Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

XXII

Oblivious to the frenzied battle taking place behind them, Lopé and Daniels staggered out of the cathedral and into welcome, if muted, sunlight. Helping each other they made their way down the imposing, Engineer-size staircase. By the time they reached the bottom, the ache that had afflicted Daniels’ back had faded.

The same could not be said for the sergeant’s face. The alien’s acidic blood had melted it half away before the healing agents contained in the emergency medpak had begun to take hold.

“You go on ahead,” he said. “Make contact, guide them in.”

She hesitated, looking back the way they had come. The looming portal at the top of the stairway was still deserted.

“Where’s the captain?”

“Dead. They’re all dead.” Plainly in distress, he felt his face. Having reached his throat, the damage wrought by the acid was starting to impair his breathing. His chest was heaving. “I’ve got to rest here a minute, catch my breath. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you.”

She nodded, turned, and bolted into the open plaza, looking for a suitable landing site away from the sculpted colossi and other buildings. Tennessee would need adequate room in which to put down the cargo lift. Not nearly as maneuverable as the lander and possessing considerably less in the way of fuel and motive power, he would likely only have one shot at a successful touchdown. Everything needed to be right the first time.

As she ran, she yelled into her comm pickup.

“Tennessee—do you read?” Reaching into a belt pouch she pulled out the compact device. “I’m putting out a beacon, and it’s going on now!”

Quickly entering the activation code she waited until it started flashing, indicating that the broadcasting instrumentation packed inside was now transmitting. Choosing a spot in the center of the plaza’s least crowded space, she set the device down carefully.

When she straightened, she saw the beast standing directly across from her.

Crouching on all fours, the surviving neomorph gazed directly back into her eyes. It remained like that, conscious that it could intercept her at any moment and well before she could reach the nearest cover. But for some reason it did not move.

Keeping it in sight, she slowly retreated until she was once more close to the sergeant.

“Lopé, over this way. Tennessee has enough room to put down, and we need to be ready to move fast when he does. If we can keep the lift between that thing and us we’ve got a chance to…” Aware that he wasn’t responding, she turned to him.

He was not looking at her. He didn’t even seem conscious of her presence. Instead, he was looking back the way they had come, up the staircase. She tracked the direction of his gaze, and her expression fell.

The alien standing at the top of the staircase resembled the neomorph, yet was different in notable ways. Reflective metallic black instead of white, bigger, the skull similar yet different, it stood motionless as a statue as it took stock of its surroundings. The only movement was in the tail as the lethal tip twitched back and forth.

“Behind us, too.” She took a couple of steps backward. “The surviving one from the confrontation in the grass.” Her tone was fatalistic as she raised the muzzle of the carbine.

If nothing else, they would go down fighting.

Wincing, Lopé lifted his own, heavier rifle and turned away from her. Moving slowly and in tandem, back to back, they edged out away from the base of the staircase and into the plaza. Out in the open now they had no protection whatsoever. Each was acutely conscious of their vulnerability, but there was nothing else they could do.

It was more important to minimize the distance to the landing site than to run for cover. Even if they tried to do so, Daniels knew, the chance she could outsprint either of the creatures was slim. Given his current difficulty breathing, Lopé likely would have no chance at all.

For a long moment nothing moved. Not even a passing breeze disturbed the toxic tableau on the plaza. Then the Alien tilted its head to one side, the great shimmering curve of the skull catching the sunlight. It saw something, Daniels realized. Or heard something, or both.

She heard it herself. Tilting back her own head, she picked out a dark spot against the sky. It grew rapidly larger and descended almost directly toward them. The cargo lift. Tennessee. Salvation. Maybe.

Propelling itself off four limbs that were like steel springs, the neomorph launched itself out of its crouch, moving directly toward them.

Swinging his heavy F90 around, Lopé joined Daniels in attempting to stop the creature before it could get anywhere near them. Simian-agile but much faster than any ape, it dipped and dodged, making it hard to hit even in the vast open space. It was still moving in their direction when Daniels yelled.

“I’m out!” Snapping her carbine into close-quarters mode, she flicked open a slim titanium bayonet. Without much hope of doing more than fending it off, she awaited their attacker.

At that moment the Alien leaped toward them, charging downward from the top of the giant staircase, gaining speed as it descended.

The lift was still high overhead, but not so far distant that a horrified Tennessee failed to see what was taking place. Gritting his teeth he jammed the controls, accelerating the craft beyond its prescribed limits.

Now wasn’t the time, he knew, to adhere to protocols that had been set down parsecs distant by people doing programming in quiet offices out of harm’s way. Under his hands the lift went down fast and unbeautifully.

At the last instant he slowed and swerved to one side, nearly clipping one of the numerous columns that lined the edge of the plaza. As the lift rose sharply, then dropped precipitously anew, he struggled with the manual controls. It was more, he thought, like riding a bucking bronco in an ancient rodeo than steering a supposedly maneuverable piece of modern machinery.

Faris would have liked that.

His final approach occurred at an angle that would have resulted in the revoking of his pilot’s license had he been on a qualification run, instead of frantically trying to execute an emergency touchdown.

Kicking up dust and dirt, the four thrusters roared as their combined yield met the surface. Stone, artificial paving material, and desiccated bodies were blown in all directions as Tennessee fought to steady the unwieldy, ungainly craft.

At the same time, Lopé let out a pained shout.

“I’m out!”

Grabbing at him with her free hand, Daniels yanked the dazed sergeant in her direction even as the cargo lift slowed its descent. “Come on!” Half dragging him but refusing to leave him behind, she staggered toward the landing site as the Alien cleared the last few oversize steps at the bottom of the giants’ staircase. She didn’t dare look behind her. It had to be very close now. Too close.

Her thoughts got the better of her. Still wrenching and pulling on the sergeant, she looked back over her shoulder.

Just in time to see the neomorph slam into the Alien. Like two resurrected carnivores from the Mesozoic, they grappled in combat. Razor teeth slashed and bit as lethal tails arced over and around, stabbing and thrusting, each searching for a mortal spot on its opponent.

Though the lift had touched down, Tennessee had no choice but to keep the thrusters and engines engaged. He couldn’t dare risk being unable to reignite them. Safely on the ground, he kicked up a hurricane of dust, broken bone, and flying debris as Daniels and Lopé stumbled toward him.

Continuing to half drag, half guide the sergeant, Daniels watched the chaos of grotesque limbs, claws, and teeth come to an abrupt stop, and saw the Alien disembowel the neomorph. It paused a moment over the eviscerated body, standing tall, a grotesque parody of horrific triumph. Then it turned, the awful head peering eyelessly in her direction, and came toward her.

In the eddying of dust and dirt and shattered stone she could hardly see the waiting craft itself.

The boarding port—there!

“Come on, just in front of us!” she urged Lopé, willing the sergeant to follow. “Move, dammit!” She pulled hard on his arm.

Something pulled the other way.

Whirling around, her eyes filling with swirling silt, she saw the Alien clutching at the sergeant’s back, its talons slashing his shoulder and wrenching him out of her grasp, throwing the now unconscious Lopé to the ground.

Fury and frustration overwhelming her common sense and armed only with the barrel-mounted bayonet, she charged. Too out of it to think clearly, she stabbed and cut, trying to save a man, a friend, who was likely beyond saving.

Turning away from the sergeant, the Alien loomed over her and snapped. The inner jaw missed as she ducked and stabbed, the blade finally penetrating part of the huge body.

Acid blood sprayed, a few drops striking her face. Screaming, reaching for her cheek, and unable to check her footing, she stumbled. One massive inhuman hand lashed out to knock her rifle from her hands. For a second time the hideous inner maw gaped, and this time it wouldn’t miss.

A succession of shots from a heavy rifle slammed into its back. Hissing in fury, the Alien whirled and charged at this new adversary. The epitome of synthetic sang-froid, Walter stood his ground and continued to squeeze off one round after another, firing with measured, unnatural precision while exhibiting an utter lack of fear.

He looked terrible. Milky circulatory fluid dripped from his gashed face. His clothes were torn, revealing places where the synthetic skin had been peeled back as if by a commercial shredder. Clearly, the fight he had been in had been brutal and he had come out of it badly battered—but the damage that had been inflicted had not impaired his aim, or his determination. In the face of the oncoming specter anyone else would have turned and fled.

The Alien represented the apex of Engineer biomechanical warfare design, but it was not invulnerable. Repeated hits slowed it, stopped it, and finally brought it down—scarcely a hand’s breadth from Walter’s feet.

Stepping around it, he lent his considerable strength to Daniels as the two of them dragged Lopé up the barely visible loading ramp of the cargo lift. Behind them, shaking itself, a singular shape slowly rose from where it had fallen.

Once they were on the platform, Tennessee punched a control and the boarding ramp began to fold back onto the lift’s deck. He entered lift-off instructions even before it had finished retracting.

On the open, unfenced exterior platform, human and synthetic worked together to drag the unconscious Lopé toward the cab. As they struggled with the dead weight of the sergeant’s body, a sudden, anxious thought caused Daniels to look back the way they had come.

“Where’s David?”

“On his way, I am sure,” Walter told her over the roar of the engines. “His body will, of course, be actively repairing the damage I inflicted on it. A temporary immobilization at best. We have to hurry. He’s not happy.”

Despite the dust, dirt, blood, confusion, and the fact that she was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life, she had to smile.

“You look like shit.”

He grinned back. “As do you.”

Her smile faded as she looked down at the injured Lopé. “Let’s get him inside. The lift cab will have more extensive med resources than a field kit.”

The moment they appeared at the door, Tennessee unsealed it. Dragging the sergeant inside, Daniels and Walter laid him on his back in the rear of the cab. While she sat down, exhausted, Walter unlatched a storage locker and removed a much larger medkit than the one the members of the landing team carried on their service belts.

As Tennessee worked the controls and the lift began its clumsy ascent, Walter’s fingers flew over the medkit. Pulling off the simple emergency patch that Cole had applied and tossing it aside, he began applying synthein to rebuild the sergeant’s missing cheek, dressing the wound with an artisan’s skill. An adjunct blast of fen-4 to a bloody, exposed upper arm pumped a fresh dose of painkiller into Lopé’s system.

Tennessee checked the monitors to ensure that the thrusters and engines were clear for lift-off.

“We’ve got company,” he yelled. “It’s under the lift.” Jerking around sharply, his gaze fell on Daniels. His tone was somber. “I don’t know if that thing can survive outside atmosphere, but after what I saw Walter pump into it, I wouldn’t be surprised at anything it can do. We can’t take that chance. We can’t risk it reaching the Covenant.”

She nodded tersely. He wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already surmised. Picking up Walter’s rifle, she opened the cab door and headed back out onto the open platform.

Footing wasn’t any better outside the cabin than it had been within. Despite Tennessee’s best efforts, the flying platform rocked violently under her boots. Anyone else would have been at a loss how to proceed. Not Daniels. She knew every corner of every piece of terraforming equipment.

Staggering, she ripped open one of the packs mounted on the wall, removed the harness it held, and quickly slipped into it. Once it was tightened and secure, she unlocked an adjacent cable and clipped it onto the harness. Only then did she call Tennessee, having to raise her voice in order to be heard over the enveloping roar of the thrusters.

“Where is it?”

“Forward starboard thruster!” he replied, hoping she could hear him. “I’m gonna try to burn it!”

Easy, he told himself as he stared at the relevant monitor. Wait, wait…

The creature was clinging to the lift’s underside, surveying its surroundings as if trying to decide how to proceed. Finally, it moved directly toward the thruster.

Without hesitating, Tennessee applied full power.

Rising on unbalanced thrust, the lift lurched sideways. Squinting, he tried to see through the thruster flare. There was no sign of the creature.