Shrouded like a pilgrim, he wandered absently through the bridge, glancing periodically at one console or set of readouts after another. In the absence of any human crew, all was calm and everything in working order. He knew it would be; otherwise Mother would have alerted him. Still, he was brought to a halt by a readout on one panel. It indicated that there was activity in the main disposal bay. Curious, he activated the relevant visual feed.
A projection emerged from the console, bright and colorful in front of him. As he looked on in silence, his quiet disapproval grew. Not because of the activity that was taking place, but because of what it implied.
Daniels stood beside Walter in the disposal bay, their attention on a monitor. The screen showed a pod-like coffin that had been moved into the facility’s outer lock. The coffin-pod was rigged and ready to go—out into the vacuum.
It was utterly quiet in the bay, until Walter finally broke the silence. “Would you like me to say something? I’m programmed with multiple funerary services in a variety of denominations. I am also equipped to improvise, based on my personal knowledge of the deceased.”
“No, thanks,” Daniels mumbled. Silence resumed, briefly.
“If you don’t need or wish a funeral service,” Walter continued, “may I ask why you wanted me to accompany you?”
She looked over at him. “As you pointed out when we were inspecting the terraforming bay, the crew is made up of couples. That was the whole point of—” She broke off. “I thought you might know something about being alone. I didn’t expect you to speak to it, exactly, I—I don’t know what I was expecting. I do know that I didn’t want to have to do this by myself.”
Digesting this, Walter felt touched, in his way. From a programming standpoint, the situation was… complicated.
He was not necessarily relieved when the access door slid open to admit Tennessee and Faris, but he was pleased. Unsure whether just his presence was sufficient to mitigate Daniels’ aloneness, he knew that the arrival of two of her friends was more likely to do so. Just as he knew that the addition of the bottle of whiskey and the four shot glasses Tennessee was carrying was likely to further ameliorate her mood.
Tennessee managed to envelop her in one of his bear hugs without dropping either the bottle or any of the glasses.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said softly. “How you holdin’ up?” He released her, then glanced over at his wife.
Daniels smiled up at him. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. Thanks for coming. Both of you.”
Holding up the bottle, Tennessee favored it with an appreciative glance. “His favorite. Man with taste.” Exhibiting remarkable dexterity for one so large, he juggled bottle and glasses while pouring for all of them. “Straight up. ‘No ice, no water, no chase, no shit.’ That’s what he always said.” He eyed the remaining figure standing nearby. “Walter?”
“When in Rome.” Extending a hand, the synthetic took a glass. While the liquor would do nothing for him from a physiological standpoint, it was the gesture of camaraderie that was important.
“Amen, brother.” Faris acknowledged him by briefly raising her own glass. “That’s what I call proper programming.”
Following ceremonial sips, both to appraise the bottle’s contents and to loosen the atmosphere, Tennessee offered a more formal toast.
“To all the good people, gone too soon. Remember them.”
The response from those around him sounded in unison. “Remember them.”
More consumption followed the toast. Daniels drained her glass quickly, then turned to Walter. He said everything he could with his eyes, knowing that any additional words would be superfluous and inadequate. Or worse, wrong.
Finally Faris asked gently, “Want me to do it?”
“No. Thanks.” Daniels stepped forward. “My place.” Favoring the coffin with one final look, she reached out and pressed a button. Aural pickups conveyed the singular whoosh as air fled the disposal lock. It accompanied as well as propelled the coffin.
An external vid showed the pod shooting away from the Covenant. Very, very small against the overwhelming blackboard of the cosmos, it was swallowed up by the dark immensity almost immediately after being ejected. Together with her friends Daniels watched as it, along with the bright future she had envisioned, vanished into the void.
From his position on the bridge a silent Oram took it all in, from the solemn first moments to the improving mood engendered by the alcohol. He was not pleased. There had been no attempt to involve him in the funeral, brief as it was, nor even to inform him about it. Technically, no regulations had been broken, but it was bad form. As captain, he ought to have been told in advance and his permission, or at least his concurrence, ought to have been sought.
Instead, they had gone ahead without him. Nothing had been concealed, exactly. What had taken place and the manner in which it had been carried out was more in the nature of avoidance.
He had only been captain a short time and by accident. If the rest of the crew didn’t respect him enough to apprise him of a funeral, it suggested that he was going to have a hard time running the ship. Mulling over possible ways to improve the situation, he found little inspiration.
The worry beads clicked a little faster in his hand.
In the silence of the bridge they sounded preternaturally loud, but not so loud as to override the voice that now spoke behind him. Familiar though it was, he was still surprised to hear it.
“Come to bed, Christopher.” Clad in a one-piece suit of lightweight material that would not do for work, but was perfectly suitable for an occasional stroll, his wife admonished him gently.
“How long have you been standing there, Karine?”
She yawned and smiled. “Long enough.”
Instead of looking at her, he nodded toward the projection. “Then you see what’s going on there? You saw how she disobeyed my orders?”
“You mean she buried her husband? And without asking your permission? Tch. Shame on her.” When he continued to evade her stare, she came forward until he could not avoid her eyes without deliberately ignoring her.
“When we get to Origae-6,” she reminded him, “these people aren’t going to be your crew anymore. Once the Covenant is decommissioned so that everyone can participate in developing the colony, they and we will revert to being colonists, just like everyone who’s currently in hypersleep. They won’t be under your command. They’re going to be your neighbors. Remember that. Because they certainly will.
“So tread softly. Once the colony is up and functioning, you’re going to need them a lot more than they’re going to need you.” She searched his face. “So pissing them off now for some perceived slight or minor infraction of the rules probably isn’t the best way to proceed. Okay?”
His reluctant shrug was barely more perceptible than his reply.
“Yeah.”
She made perfect sense, of course. Karine always did. He hated that, but he loved her.
She touched his face affectionately, then dropped her hand and held it out toward him with the palm facing upward. He didn’t need to ask what she wanted—they had been down this path many times before. With a resigned sigh, he handed her the worry beads. As she folded her fingers around them she leaned forward to bestow a kiss on his cheek, then turned.
“Coming?” she asked. “You need your sleep, Christopher. It will make you a more responsive captain. And it always makes you a better person.”