Alien: Covenant - The Official Movie Novelization

VII

On board the lander itself, there was no time to imagine much of anything. An intrusive crashing reality kept everyone’s thoughts tightly focused. One jolt after another sent the craft alternately up, down, and sideways. Each shock felt as if they were slamming into a mountainside, when in actuality it was only the wind.

Air had never felt so solid, Oram decided as he manipulated his worry beads.

As bad as the turbulence were the huge bolts of lightning that split the dense cloud cover enveloping the lander. So numerous and close were the strikes that he could frequently see inside the ship without the need of its internal lighting.

Lighting, lightning, Oram thought, trying to take his mind off the conditions. Beside him, a grim-faced Faris worked the controls, fighting to keep the ship level and on course. Not because consistent stability was necessary—the lander could fly just as efficiently upside down. But it would be better for the team’s morale if the craft’s interior remained puke-free.

An especially powerful jolt would have thrown everyone on board head-first into the ceiling had they not been strapped into their seats. It was strong enough to break Oram’s grasp on his low-tech stress-relievers, sending one round bead rolling and rattling across the deck. While he missed its comforting presence in his hand, he had no intention of unstrapping to go look for it.

Noting his partner’s distress, Lopé leaned toward Hallet, trying to impart a bit of reassurance and comfort to the other man’s space. Alone among the team, the sergeant was actually enjoying the chaotic ride.

“Relax, Tom. It’s only atmosphere,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. There’s nothing solid to hit.” He nodded forward. “Faris is the best pilot on the Covenant.”

Hallet gripped the arms of his seat so hard his fingers were turning white inside his gloves. “I hate space.” A quick glance downward showed the captain’s fugitive worry bead rolling past beneath their seats.

“It’s not like we’re flying through a meteor storm.” Lopé’s voice was calm and controlled, no different from the one he would have been using had he been in the middle of a comforting meal in the Covenant’s mess.

“That’s in space, too,” Hallet muttered unhappily.

Lopé smiled affectionately. “This is why you need to do yoga.”

His partner shot him a look, and the sergeant laughed.

A moment later the lander dropped a hundred meters as if it had been hit by a giant hammer, then recovered the lost altitude under Faris’ skilled ministrations. Lopé’s grin turned to a look of concern as Hallet blanched. The other man really was having a tough time. Eschewing any further casual banter or attempts at humor, the sergeant turned his gaze forward. While the rocking, bouncing, and general atmospheric turmoil didn’t bother him, he could not help but wonder—just how extensive was this storm, anyway?

He could have asked, but knew better. Everyone up front was far too busy to respond to casual questions from the cargo.

Then, without any warning, the terrible jolting ceased. It was replaced by an ominous but quite familiar creaking from less-than-stellar joins in the hull. A minute later even the creaking ceased as the lander dropped through the underside of the cloud layer. Pursing her lips, Faris exhaled long and deliberately.

The terrific pounding they had taken was behind them, and both the lander and its personnel were intact. They descended now as smoothly and uneventfully as if they were back in space circling the Covenant in the complete absence of weather. Emergency illumination was replaced automatically by normal lighting. The crew bay was filled with exclamations of relief, laughter, and more than one comment about needing a change of undergarments. But there had been no injuries. Straps and drop seats had done their job.

Adding to the general relief, for the first time in a while, a voice sounded clearly over the comm.

“Lander, do you read? Respond if you can, lander.”

Faris threw Oram a smile as she replied. “What, you haven’t been listening? Shame. All that fascinating meteorological information lost.” When there was no response, she continued. “Yeah, yeah. I read you, Covenant. Nothing to it. We just got tired of talking to you all the time, that’s all.” Still no reply to her joking, so she turned serious.

“Okay, it wasn’t a piece of cake. But we’re through. We’re okay. No detectable damage to the ship…” She cast a quick glance behind her. “…or its contents. Continuing descent—normally.”

The planet’s surface proved as jagged and rough as its atmosphere, with steep-sloped gray mountains whose tops were obscured by low-hanging clouds, dense forests enveloped in mist that even from several hundred meters up looked hauntingly familiar, deep valleys and fjords cut by fast-flowing rivers, numerous lakes of every shape and size. Below the main storm layer, scattered cumulus occasionally grew dark and heavy enough to unload the infrequent shower.

Faris gnawed on her lower lip as she studied the guidance telemetry and attendant readouts. The view out the lander’s wide forward port was impressive, even breathtaking—but it wasn’t conducive to an easy touchdown. They were fast approaching the coordinates of the signal source. She knew she had to make a decision, whether to glide past the source and hope for better landing prospects on the far side of the site, or set down now.

Readouts and information acquired from orbit suggested that, if anything, the topography was rougher on the other side of the signal site than what they were cruising over at present. Preferring to trust her own vision whenever possible, she leaned slightly forward to peer upward. There was no telling if or when the ferocious electrical storm might grow worse or descend to a lower altitude. If the latter, it would complicate their landing considerably.

She determined not to chance it.

“I don’t like the terrain,” she told Oram, “and I can’t get any solid predictions on what the weather might do. We’ve got several sites on this side of the signal with smooth water. Slopes verging on precipices everywhere else. I suggest we be prudent.”

He nodded his understanding. “I’m a prudent man, Faris. You’re the pilot. Your call.”

That settled it. “I’m putting us down on amphib. Anybody wants to get out and try waterskiing, now’s the time. Let me know and I’ll pop the ramp.”

Even had that been possible, there would have been no takers. Every member of the landing team had been slammed around more than enough for one day. The notion of doing so for recreation was decidedly unappealing.

The long, narrow gorge into which she descended would have made a perfect landing strip had it not been filled with water. That didn’t prevent Faris from bringing the lander in and down gently among the stark surroundings. Disturbing both moist atmosphere and cold water, the ship kicked up a plume in its wake. Slowing and hovering, she turned to port and brought them in to the near shore.

At the last moment, an unexpected clunk against the lander’s underside made her wince. No alarms sounded, meaning hull integrity had not been breached. Maneuvering carefully, she turned the vessel sideways and settled down in shallow water beside a pebble beach.

None of her companions had to tell her that she was the best, she knew as she cut the engines. That was a given.

Relieved to be safely through the terrible storm and on solid ground, the team members all but tore off their restraining straps in their excitement to disembark. Despite all the gear he was carrying, Private Cole did a few experimental jumping jacks, delighting in the feel of his boots banging against the deck underfoot.

“Real gravity!” He looked over at Rosenthal, who was crowding him. “Almost forgot what it feels like.”

“You hit me in the shoulder again, and you’ll get to experience even more of it,” she warned him. “Give me a hand with my pack, will you?”

As the expedition readied itself to go ashore, packs were slung, weapons loaded, rations counted. Everyone checked everyone else’s gear, and then had their own checked again. Up front, as Faris ran through the lander’s power-down sequence, the comm crackled anew. Despite the fact that the storm now raged high above them, it continued to interfere with reception, as well as transmission. At least, she told herself, something intelligible was getting through.

“We’re having trouble reading you… find… boost your signal?” Faris recognized Upworth’s voice. She could only respond and hope that the lander’s communications system had enough strength to punch through the swirling electromagnetic disturbance overhead.

“Roger that. Not only was it a hell of an entry, but we had to do an amphib landing, and we may have clipped something in the water on touchdown. I’m gonna check for damage, so may be out of direct touch for a bit. Will engage suit-to-ship relay and anticipate that works both directions.”

As she spoke to the Covenant, and hoped she was being heard, Daniels joined them. When Oram eyed her quizzically she opened one clenched hand to reveal the worry bead he had dropped during the descent. He took it, giving her a nod of thanks.

“Myself, I’d prefer a suitably relaxing pharmaceutical,” she told him.

He held up the bead before returning it to his pocket.

“This is non-narcotic, always available, and nonaddictive.”

She could have said something about the latter, chose not to as he peered out the foreport.

“How far?”

Walter checked his readouts. “Signal’s source is eight kilometers almost due west, but at a considerable elevation. Up a steep incline.” He looked over at Faris. “You chose the set-down site well. While there are options between us and the signal source, we really could not have gotten any closer without endangering the lander.”

“I know,” she said simply. “It’s called ‘piloting.’” More than most of the crew, she had a tendency to be short with the synthetic. She didn’t know why. Walter was perfectly pleasant, perfectly responsive, perfectly sociable. Perfectly… perfect.

Maybe that was why, she told herself.

At a command from the bridge, the portside landing ramp deployed. Spanning a bit of shallow water, the far end settled into the gentle slope of the pebble beach. Being the most expendable member of the team, as well as the only one who did not require breathing gear, Walter descended first. Standing on the solid ground, he looked around and took a deep breath. Not because he needed to do so, but to acquire a sample of atmosphere for his internal systems to analyze.

The result was comforting, as were all the other readings. He informed the others.

“Is he sure?” Peering out the forward port, Daniels watched as Walter performed a series of mundane tasks, kneeling to examine the green ground cover beyond the beach, cupping his hands to sample the water from the lake, inspecting several choice pebbles chosen from the edge of the beach. Oram frowned at her.

“It’s Walter. Walter is either sure or he’s not sure. There are no gray areas with Walter. You know that.”

“Yeah, right. Okay, then.” Looking back into the ship’s bay to where the crew was performing final prep, she raised her voice. “Walter says the atmosphere is so good we’re not going to need breathing gear. No sign of local pathogens in the air, either, right down past the molecular level. So no need for full evac suits.”

The cheers and shouts of delight that greeted her announcement rocked the ship almost as hard as had the storm.

Faris was back on the comm, hoping her signal reached the Covenant. “Atmosphere’s breathable,” she reported. “No, better than breathable, according to Walter. Downright terrestrial, except without all the pollutants. I’d say it’s ‘fresh,’ though he wouldn’t use such a non-technical term. No airborne contaminants whatsoever. Pristine.”

Edenesque? she thought. No, that designation would be premature. She waited as the members of the expedition team filed out in the direction of the airlock and the deployed landing ramp.

“The team is heading out now to investigate the source of the transmission,” she told the comm. “I’ll relay their findings if it proves necessary. Suit signals might need a boost, if the damn storm doesn’t settle down.”

When Upworth’s voice responded immediately, Faris let out a sigh of relief. Maybe the current state of ground-to-ship communications wasn’t the best, but at least it was functional.

“See if you can push more power to the lander’s uplink, honey,” Upworth replied. She, too, sounded relieved at the stabilizing of contact. “Signal’s coming through up here, but still showing a tendency to fall apart. Have to gather, assemble, and process before you can be understood.”

“Will try.” Faris rose from her seat, glad to finally be able to stand without having to worry about being slammed against the bulkhead. “Repurposing main relay. I have to go outside for a bit to check for potential damage to the hull. Then I’ll see about further goosing the uplink. Now that we’re down, maybe I can redistribute some power.”

Though there was enough cloud cover to mute the daylight, it was far from dark outside the lander. Not exactly cheery, Faris told herself as she followed the rest of the team out the lock and down the ramp, but far from unrelenting gloom. Their surroundings were just—gray. While the team worked out last-minute preparations before embarking on the hike ahead, she made her way toward the back of the ship, checking the underside as far as was possible given that it was sitting in shallow water, and then working her way carefully around the forward and aft landing thrusters.

The dent was sufficiently prominent that she noticed it right away. Any possible internal damage would have to await an instrument scan. As she continued to study the indentation, Oram came up beside her, his boots sloshing through dark water.

“Okay, Faris, we’re heading out. Keep all expedition security protocols in place,” he instructed. “And watch out for hungry dinosaurs.” It was a weak attempt at levity, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless. Oram really was beginning to relax into command.

“Will do.” Peering past him, her gaze traveled up the soaring mountainside in the direction of the signal’s source. “Don’t see anything moving yet, dinos included. Pretty peaceful.” She turned her attention back toward the damage to the lander. “Have fun, y’all.”

Turning slowly, he took in the immediate surroundings. The lake was stunning, reminding him of images he had seen of glacial lochs on Earth. The mountains that framed the lengthy body of water were equally imposing, as were the fir- and redwood-like trees that climbed their flanks. It was all quite beautiful.

Beautiful—and quiet, he couldn’t help noticing. Faris was right. The only sounds were made by the slight breeze as it caressed rocks and grass and the barely perceptible liquid clink of wavelets against the rocky shore. There were no animal calls, no bird cries, and no exotic analogs thereof. Despite the inarguable habitability of the planetary surface, despite its welcoming atmosphere, temperature, and gravity, nothing moved in the sky, in the water, on the dry land, or in the forest.

Quiet.

He gave a mental shrug. Maybe the lander had come down in a particularly sterile spot. Or maybe the local fauna engaged in mass migration. Or were hibernating in expectation of warmer weather—and fewer storms. He couldn’t spare the time to ponder on it. This wasn’t a zoological expedition. Two thousand colonists in hypersleep were waiting on what they found, and on his ultimate decisions. Which he could not make until a number of questions were answered.

Walking back to shore, he rejoined the group that stood patiently awaiting his orders. With one hand he gestured at the looming mountainside.

“If everyone’s ready…?” When no one demurred, he added, “All right then. Let’s go find our ghost. Walter?”

Without a word and holding his multiunit out in front of him, the synthetic started off. Lopé accelerated to take point in front of their guide. The rest of his squad—Hallet, Cole, Ledward, Ankor, and Rosenthal—fanned out around him, forming a standard semicircular perimeter. Daniels, Oram, and Karine followed close behind Walter.

As she collected the necessary ingredients for a standard scan-and-repair kit, Faris listened to her husband via the relayed comm.

“No way to boost the signal?” he asked her.

Kit in hand, she replied as she once again exited the lander and descended the ramp. “Not without going completely offline, and allowing the cells to recycle.”

“How long would that take?” he inquired hopefully.

Wading out into the water she halted next to the dent in the hull. Using a special tool designed exclusively for the purpose, she began opening service hatches, striving to maintain the contact with the Covenant while also trying to envision the work that might need to be done.

“I dunno. A couple of hours.” Straightening, she pulled a tech scanner from her kit. “If I take the time to do that, it would mean taking time away from making repairs down here, and I don’t even know the extent of those yet. Depending on the damage, they might require minutes, might require hours.” She didn’t say “days.”

Don’t let it be days, she muttered to herself.

Tennessee made the logical choice, as she knew he would. “It’s not worth taking time away from what you might have to do to the lander. Do what you have to do with it first. Meanwhile, let me see what we can do up here. I can try overriding the automatics with a couple of experimental resolution algorithms, see if we can maybe improve clarity without having to boost signal strength.”

“Okey doke.” Repeated attempts failed to get a particularly reluctant hatch to open, but the problem was solved by the simple expedient of whacking it hard a couple of times with a spanner. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.” She cast a squint skyward. “Viewed from down here, there’s still plenty of crackle overhead, but none of it is hitting the ground, and at least it’s not raining.” She hoped that didn’t jinx it. “Faris out.”

As communication terminated she paused to inspect the small internal portions of the lander that her efforts had exposed to view. A sudden sense of unease caused her to turn and look out across the somber landscape. She knew immediately what it was that was bothering her.

It was that damn unbroken continuing quiet.