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.”