Ngata had contacted him with the good news. The Earthsavers—the organization that had violently attempted to halt the scheduled departure of the Covenant—had been shattered, its so-called “prophet” captured and its center overrun. Once Weyland-Yutani specialists had a chance to run through the organization’s records and files, the rest of its acolytes could be identified and rounded up.
The man deserved a promotion… except that agents like Ngata did not get promoted. There was no level, no company specification, to which they could be promoted. They were simply valued, and moved around as necessary.
One more piece on the chessboard, he told himself as he stared out the window of the tower residence. Employed in service to the company. In this case, in service of getting the colonization mission under way. Yutani himself would not live to confirm the ship’s arrival at Origae-6, of course. That did not matter.
What mattered was that the last obstacle had been removed, and mankind’s destiny could proceed. Knowing that all was well, he called for a drink and settled down to celebrate… alone, as was his wont.
XXVI
“You ever done a shuttle jump before?”
Seated across from the sergeant, Rosenthal licked her lips and tried to appear less nervous than she was as she pressed back into her jump seat as hard as she could.
“Just simulations.”
Lopé nodded thoughtfully. “Simulations. They’re okay.” Peering over at the private, he tried to think of a way to reassure her. “You know there’s no danger. Jumping to orbit is a thousand times safer than crossing the street in any major city.”
“I’m aware of the statistics.” She snugged even further back into her seat. “Stats don’t eliminate the fact that you’re leaving Earth and going out into a vacuum.”
He frowned. “If you’re so uneasy about going out into space, what the hell made you sign up for a colonization mission?”
Looking over at him, she smiled tightly. “There’s only two jumps. Earth to the Covenant and the Covenant to the surface of Origae-6. I figure I can handle that.”
The opportunity to prove she could do so came with the roar of the shuttle’s engines as it lifted off from the Wash spaceport. As Lopé relaxed, closing his eyes, settling back into his seat, listening to music via an aural disc, every muscle in Rosenthal’s body tensed. She didn’t seem to breathe until the engines cut off and the shuttle entered a rendezvous trajectory in free space.
Opening one eye to check her again, Lopé hoped that if she was going to throw up, she would have sense enough to utilize the vacuum port slotted into the seat in front of her. He was pleased to see that she kept control of her guts, if not her emotions.
Shutting off his music with a sigh, he continued their conversation. It was better for her to look at him than the rotating view of the Earth outside her port. Keeping her occupied helped, until the looming bulk of the Covenant drew their attentions away from her disquiet.
Luckily docking went smoothly. Once through the main airlock, and with the ship’s artificial gravity reassuringly underfoot, Rosenthal finally relaxed. While the rest of the shuttle’s passengers disembarked and cargo was unloaded—including the private’s personal effects—they went to meet with Daniels. The captain was otherwise occupied with a never-ending series of pre-departure tasks.
* * *
“Good to see you back, Sergeant.” Daniels shook Lopé’s hand, then turned to take the measure of the security team’s final recruit. “The company has forwarded your particulars, Private Rosenthal. In addition, Lopé added some good things to say about you.”
Her zero-gee distress forgotten, Rosenthal glanced over at her superior.
“Lies. All lies.”
“Well, it’s good to recognize your own shortcomings.” There were grins all around.
Lopé excused himself. “I should see how the rest of the team is doing, let them know I’m back.”
Daniels nodded, then offered Rosenthal a smile. “I’ll show you to your quarters. There’ll be more space than you probably expect, especially for a single crew member. Not that it matters much, since we’ll all spend the majority of the trip in deepsleep. We have some luxuries you’ll appreciate. Dining and exercise area if you want human interaction while we’re awake and carrying out maintenance and recharge duties. Large shower facilities. Every little extra matters when you’re light-years from home.”
“Thanks.” Rosenthal fell into step alongside the ship’s supercargo. “I brought as much as I was allowed.”
Daniels nodded understandingly. “Seemingly insignificant things will mean a great deal more once we’re down and starting to build the colony. That’s what the psych panel says, anyway.” She was silent for a moment as they walked, then added, “Official communication says that everything has settled down on the surface, and that we have nothing more to worry about. You were part of that ‘settling,’ I understand.”
Rosenthal nodded tersely. “There was a group of anti-colonization fanatics. They were dedicated, well-organized, and had resources. They’ve been dealt with and yes, I was part of that. A small part. It wasn’t planned.” She shrugged. “One minute I was applying for the last position on the Covenant security team, and things just happened. Quickly.”
Daniels’ interest was piqued. “Once we’re outbound you’ll have to tell me all about it.”
The private looked uncertain. “Don’t know if I can. Don’t know what’s restricted information, and what’s not.”
Daniels smiled again. “I don’t think anyone will come after you if you let something slip. If you prefer, you can wait until we come out of jump for our first maintenance and recharge stop. We’ll have plenty of time to talk. Nothing really happens during maintenance and recharge stops.”
With each step the two women took down the corridor, conversation grew more relaxed, more familiar. Rosenthal quickly found that she liked Daniels. On a journey covering dozens of light-years, likeability was important, even if most of that time was spent unconscious.
* * *
“It’s always hot in Ouarzazate.” So went the refrain. There was more to the ditty, a lot of it obscene and in multiple languages, but neither shuttle pilot was in the mood for recitation.
At least it was comfortable in the crew and maintenance staging area, where the two pilots relaxed with cold drinks and hot videos. Outside, the temperature frequently topped fifty degrees c. Not uncommon in this northeastern corner of the Sahara, on the backside of the towering Atlas mountains.
North of the Ouarzazate spaceport, millions of solar collectors marched in neat, martial rows, stretching practically to the southern shore of the Mediterranean, providing power to lights, vehicles, public transport, every kind of electronics, and most importantly, air filters used from ancient Italy and Spain all the way to the pollution-choked central portion of the continent. Visible from space, they constituted one of many such installations on the planet. Even so, they weren’t enough to cleanly power a burgeoning population whose hunger for energy was never sated.
It was less than an hour to boarding when the pair of pilots were joined by two colleagues. The new arrivals looked awake and refreshed, as if they had managed to commute all the way from the service dorm to the staging area without once stepping foot out into the climate.
“Patrick Jord,” the newcomer announced as he gestured to his companion. “Ilse Spaarder. We’re your relief.”
Frowning, the nearest pilot roused his slender frame from where he had been lounging on a couch. “Haven’t heard anything about a relief team,” Sanchez peered over at his partner. Kirpathi looked equally dubious.
Jord exchanged a bemused look with his companion, then pulled his comm unit, fiddled with the controls, and held it out. Sanchez studied it, then drew his own device and instructed it to receive. Following the near instantaneous exchange of data he studied the result, looked confused, then turned once more to his associate.
“Kirpathi, can you confirm this?”
There followed another sharing of information between devices while the newcomers waited patiently. Finally, the first pilot eyed the newcomers apologetically.
“Everything looks good,” he said. “I just wish we’d been told earlier. Could’ve stayed in Fez.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “You won’t mind if we check with Central Control?”
The female pilot shrugged. “Go right ahead. Always good to double-check security.”
Nodding, the pilot worked his comm unit. A moment later he muttered something unintelligible and turned to his colleague. “It’s legitimate.”
“Why?” the other man asked. “We’re all set to go. It doesn’t make sense to do a substitution this close to liftoff.”
“Hey,” Jord declared, “if you guys want to disregard the directive, Ilse and I will be happy to stay here. The pool at the dorm is refreshed and—”
“No, no,” Kirpathi said hastily. “You two take her up. I’m sure you’ve seen the manifest. Standard supply run. You been to Station Nine before?”
“Several times.” His counterpart smiled reassuringly. “Ilse’s been up there even more than me. I usually work out of Barlee or Turpan.”
“All right then.” As Kirpathi rose from where he had been resting, the first pilot was already heading for the door. “Only checkout remaining is the final. We’ve run all the prelims. Engines, life support, everything’s good. Straight cargo run, no passengers.”
“We know,” Jord replied. “You guys have a good rest. Get in some nap time for us, and don’t let the camels pee in the pool.”
“We’re outta here.” It was a toss-up as to which pilot would be first to the security door.
Left alone in the service lounge, the two new pilots didn’t linger. Instead of relaxing like their now departed counterparts, they made their way toward the waiting vessel. Passing several electronic checkpoints and one manned security station, they arrived at the parked transport. Just as the pilots they had replaced had told them, it was fully loaded with supplies for Station Nine.
Boarding the shuttle itself, they identified themselves to the craft’s internal AI and settled into their respective seats. They then proceeded to run through the final preflight checklist one item at a time. When they were ready to launch they informed port control. Immediate clearance was given.
All six engines fired simultaneously, and the heavily laden craft lifted off. Within minutes it was higher than nearby snow-capped Mount Toubkal. Moments later it passed through the upper stratosphere. Feathering the ship’s thrust, the two pilots made several adjustments to its preprogrammed trajectory. They worked in silence, without even sharing a glance. They were utterly focused on their mission.
It didn’t include delivering supplies to Station Nine.
XXVII
Daniels was busy in the main cargo hold when the alert came through on her comm unit. It was a secure transmission intended only for active members of the crew. She made a face at it, then spoke to the two men who were standing nearby awaiting her next orders.
“Carry on without me.” She pointed down an aisle between two rows of enormous terraforming machines. “We’re almost done with these anyway. Run a final check of inventory and make sure everything’s secure. I should be back shortly.”
Their assurances followed in her wake as she turned and strode rapidly toward the hold’s exit. The alert had been urgent, calling every key crewmember to the Covenant’s bridge. No reason was given.
Probably a snap drill, she told herself. Mother was always pulling stuff like that, to ensure not only that the crew knew their business, but that they didn’t have a chance to get lazy. Daniels told herself she’d be back working the hold in just a few minutes, finalizing the day’s portion of the manifest. She didn’t stress over the loss of time. The Covenant wasn’t going anywhere until she, Jacob, Oram, and Karine all signed off.
Striding onto the bridge, she was surprised by the expressions on the faces of her crewmates. Standing between Tennessee and Faris—the two seated pilots—her husband was staring at a projection that hovered just above the console in front of him. Uncharacteristically, he hardly glanced in her direction as she made her way to his side.
Maybe this isn’t a drill, she mused. Her thoughts immediately went to the Yutani employee who had tried and failed to sabotage the ship. But enhanced security measures had been instituted in the wake of that abortive attempt, an unauthorized roach couldn’t slip onto the Covenant.
Seeing that Sergeant Lopé was also present caused her pulse to accelerate. In an emergency drill, the ship’s chief of security would have been expected to make his way to the armory, or the drive access shaft, or even the colonists’ deepsleep chamber. Not to the bridge. Something definitely wasn’t right.
She stepped up behind Jacob and put a hand on his shoulder. He barely had time to flash her a hasty smile of recognition before turning his attention back to the projection that hovered in front of him and between the two pilots.
“Hi, hon,” he said. “We’ve got us a problem here. Maybe a serious problem.” His tone was as grim as she had ever heard it.
“No maybe about it, Cap.” Faris spoke without looking up from her instruments. “Not only isn’t it slowing down, it’s continuing to accelerate.”
Daniels stood baffled. “What isn’t slowing down? What’s continuing to accelerate? What the hell is going on?”
“There’s a cargo shuttle on intercept course, darlin’.” Tennessee’s voice was clipped and tight, not his usual relaxed drawl. A big man with a scruffy beard, he wore his signature cowboy hat.
She still didn’t understand. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not scheduled.” Faris indicated a brace of readouts off to her left. “Last regular delivery craft departed an hour ago. Next one isn’t scheduled until 1800 Covenant time.” Daniels glanced at the nearest chronometric readout, and saw that 1800 was still three hours away.
“Special delivery?” she hazarded. “Supplementary cargo?” She knew better, but she had to try. From her position at Communications, Upworth looked back and shook her head.
“We checked with Central. Nothing supposed to be coming our way.”
“And they’re still not firing to slow down.” Tennessee worked controls like a concert pianist, his eyes darting from one readout and projection to the next.
“Worst case scenario?” Captain Jacob asked him.
The pilot ran some hasty computations. “They’ll hull us. Can’t say where yet—they’re still too far off. Explosive decompression wherever they hit. Casualties will depend on who’s at the point of impact. Maybe crew, maybe colonists, maybe both. At least if it’s folks in deepsleep, they’ll never know what happened.” He paused, then added solemnly, “If they impact any part of the main drive, the Covenant isn’t going anywhere for a long, long time. If ever.”
“We tried contacting them.” Ricks was Upworth’s husband and the ship’s other communications officer. He spared a quick glance for the now somber Daniels. “They answered immediately. Said they were bringing ‘extra supplies.’ Had an answer for every question.”
“Maybe they’re telling the truth,” Daniels said.
Faris gave an irritable shake of her head. “Doesn’t explain their velocity. We asked them about that, too. They replied they’d do a faster deceleration.” One finger tapped the console in front of her. “Doesn’t compute. Even if they go full decel right now they’d still shoot past us. Looking more and more like they intend to run directly into us.”
“So… a kamikaze run.” Turning to look behind her, she caught the eye of the quietly watching Lopé. He had come up silently behind her. “I thought you said the company had dealt with this nest of crazies. Rounded all of them up. Unless this is an entirely new and different bunch of crazies.”
He shrugged ever so slightly. “That’s unlikely. Seems like we might’ve missed a few on the first go-round. The ones we took into custody were far too relaxed whe
n they were being taken away. No yelling, no protesting. Now I understand why they were so calm. They’d already set this in motion. Considering that they’ve already killed repeatedly on behalf of their ‘cause,’ it doesn’t surprise me a bit that they’re ready to sacrifice everyone on board the Covenant to stop the mission. They’re that insane.” Shifting his attention to the pilots, he queried Tennessee. “Can you move? Get out of their way?”
A grim-faced Tennessee looked back at him. “This ship isn’t a repair skid. The Covenant is a colony vessel. Even if we had time we couldn’t maneuver out of the way. Their orbit will intersect ours in a matter of minutes, not hours. And we’re not fully loaded or cleared for departure. We can’t activate the main drive—that could squelch the mission as effectively as an impact. Might kill a few colonists in the process. We’re stuck.”
Jacob turned to the chief of security. “What kind of weapons do we have?”
“What you’d expect.” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lopé remained calm. “Small arms. M90s and the like. Nothing that would work ship-to-ship, and stop an oncoming shuttle. Certainly nothing with enough explosive power or enough mass.” He eyed Daniels. “What about using some of the stuff we’re taking for excavation work?”
It took her only a moment to reply. “Some of it would probably do the trick, but it’s all packed away and security sealed. Not enough time to get it out and get it ready.”
“Dammit, we need something big, and right now. Something big enough to knock them off trajectory, at least.” He looked over at his wife. “Can we throw some heavy machinery out the cargo lock?”
“We could,” Daniels told him after a moment’s thought. “If we can rotate the ship and align it perfectly and find some sort of propellant.”
“Shooting minnows in a river from the top of a skyscraper,” Tennessee rumbled. “Need something larger and more maneuverable.”
Suddenly the answer came to Daniels. “The Covenant is equipped with two landers for scouting and to use in emergency situations. I don’t think anyone in the company would argue that the current circumstances qualify as an emergency.” Even the pilots were looking her way now. “We send one out. On an intercept course.”
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