Ricks considered that. “How did people ever accomplish anything worthwhile?”
“They didn’t,” Walter replied flatly.
“Still a lot of interference across the spectrum.” Upworth struggled to isolate and clarify reception.
Oram responded with scarcely controlled eagerness. “Bring us into drop proximity and prepare the lander.”
As the Covenant slipped into orbit, sensors and scanners continued to soak up as much information as possible about the world below. Everything was fed to Mother, who worked to compile an increasingly detailed dossier on a prospective site for the colony. The gathering of information would continue until every reading had been made redundant. Those that changed—such as for temperature and other weather patterns—would be continuously updated so that a landing party would know from minute to minute what they were likely to encounter.
While the bridge buzzed with activity, the expedition team headed for the lander’s lock, personal equipment in hand.
Bearing in mind the climate at the landing site, they wore warm gray field gear with matching heavy boots and earflap caps. Beige vests bulged with nearly everything they were likely to need. Items that couldn’t fit in the vests, or might need to be accessed more rapidly, filled their equipment belts.
Privates Rosenthal and Ankor entered the lander side by side. She was nervous, he laconic. The contrast wasn’t striking, but it was there. Observing her unease, he interrupted it with a question.
“You ever done a lander drop before?”
Rosenthal swallowed. “Just simulations,” she replied. “I was told they’re as close to the real thing as possible.”
“Simulations.” Ankor considered. “Cool.”
She shot him a glance and he smiled back. Knowingly, she decided.
Once the landing team was seated and strapped in opposite one another in the main bay, those on the Covenant’s bridge copied over Mother’s suggested vectoring. It wasn’t encouraging, but it was doable. Navigation’s holo readouts showed a storming cloud cover, replete with frequent lightning flashing directly in the intended drop path. The readouts faded and sharpened, formed and reformed as the relevant information underwent constant updating.
Relegated to running the Covenant while Oram and Daniels joined the expedition team, an unhappy Tennessee took it all in. Hoping to see some clearing in the atmosphere, or at least some moderating, he was disappointed.
“Hell of a strong ionosphere.”
“Angry weather,” Ricks agreed as he addressed his comm. “Faris, it looks like a plasma storm in the thermosphere. We’re reading some steady two-fifty winds with intermittent stronger up- and down-drafts.” He checked another readout. “Mother’s given you the best rabbit hole. Believe it or not, conditions are worse elsewhere.”
On board the lander, Faris murmured commands to the piloting console. Instrumentation adjusted according to her instructions. In conditions like those raging below, it was imperative to have a human at the controls. Autopilot was fine for putting down on a beach in the midst of a clear sunny day. When it came to landing in real weather, however, nothing could beat human reactions, especially for last-minute judgments.
Human lander pilots sometimes didn’t make the best decisions, according to the procedures described in the manuals, but they usually made the right ones necessary to survive.
Oram and Walter sat up front with her, while the rest of the landing party had settled into seats behind. The captain could hardly contain his excitement. Walter had none to contain. A few expectant whispers, punctuated by nervous laughter, rose from the group as the remainder of the lander’s systems came online.
Leaning forward slightly, Faris took note of the angle of approach that had been chosen by the ship’s computer.
“I see where we’re going,” she informed Ricks via the ship-to-ship comm. “Helluva trajectory. Storm’s gonna be a motherfucker to fly through.” Her attention flicked back and forth from the readouts to the lander’s own external sensors. “This is the best Mother could come up with?”
“Yeah, ’fraid so.” Upworth’s tone was apologetic as it echoed over the open comm. “And communications will be spotty until you’re down. I’ll do my best to keep a signal lock on you guys during the drop, but between the intensity of the storm and the likelihood that you’re gonna bounce all over the friggin’ place, it’s gonna be hard to say hello every minute or so.”
Oram eyed his pilot. She and Tennessee were the best piloting couple the company could find. He had complete confidence in them, but this wasn’t a training facility on Earth, and they weren’t dropping toward a benign surface like that on Mars.
“Safe to land?” he murmured.
Faris grumbled at the readouts. “Depends on what you call ‘safe.’”
He grinned. “Then we won’t call it ‘safe.’ We’ll just call it ‘okay.’” Finally he added, “Let her rip.”
Aside from the somber Daniels, the rest of the crew in the lander were delighted at the quip. Coming from the captain, off-hand humor was a welcome surprise. A few cheers echoed from the back, and several high-fives were gleefully exchanged.
A bit surprised at himself and pleased by the reaction, Oram turned to look back into the crew bay and smile at them. As he did so his eyes met those of his wife, seated near the front. Karine flashed him a reassuring wink, and his smile widened.
Far too busy to participate in any general hilarity, Faris was completely focused on the main console. “Preparing to lock in descent mode over signal position now. Mother, please coordinate launch sequence.”
The Covenant’s positioning thrusters promptly engaged, ensuring that the ship would remain in geosynchronous orbit above the chosen landing site. On board, two thousand souls slept on, unaware that their transportation was making an unscheduled detour that, if conditions proved favorable, might well prove to be a permanent one.
“Understood.” Mother’s voice sounded over the comms in both the ship and the waiting lander. “Coordinating position over signal location. In simultaneous orbit now. You are clear to launch, Lander One.”
“Launching now, Covenant.” Faris engaged the necessary controls. There was a noticeable jolt as the lander disengaged from its parent vessel. This was followed by a brief and expected flush of nausea among the expedition team as they dropped out of the ship’s artificial gravity field. Engines fired, and the lander began to accelerate away from the main ship and toward the roiling, angry atmosphere below.
From her position on the Covenant’s bridge, Upworth monitored the drop. Everything was going smoothly and according to procedure. Of course, she told herself, they hadn’t hit atmosphere yet. Given the prospects for a rough descent, she decided that a little early encouragement wouldn’t be out of place. Faris would know it for what it was, but there was no harm in offering it anyway.
“You’re looking gorgeous from up here, Faris. Angle on descent is perfect, drop speed is right on point. Thank goodness you’re flying, and not the old man.”
Across the bridge, Tennessee pulled an exaggerated expression. “A little less of the ‘old man,’ if you don’t mind.”
Faris grinned. “If the boot fits…”
“You know where I’ll put it,” he finished suggestively. Turning serious again, he let his gaze wander between the forward port and his console readouts. He no longer had visual on the lander, of course—but that didn’t keep him from straining to try and follow its descent through the port. Highly trained though he was, there was something in being a pilot that had always favored eye contact over instrumentation.