To Daniels’ astonishment, Lopé then brought what remained in his palm up to his tongue, and tasted it. She held her breath. Even Walter looked up from his multiunit and watched the sergeant closely.
Taking note of her anxious expression, Lopé smiled reassuringly and gestured at the field in which they stood.
“This is wheat,” he said. “Plain, ordinary, bland, bread-making wheat. I’m from what they used to call Iowa. Believe me, I know wheat.” He took a second taste, turned thoughtful. “This is old, a primitive variety, but definitely cultivated. Too much taste to be an accidental offshoot. Or wild.”
“You’re certain?” she asked him.
He flicked what remained off his fingertip. “I don’t know much about parallel evolution, but I’d have to say that finding something here that tastes almost exactly like stuff I tasted as a boy would be one hell of a coincidence.” He eyed the synthetic. “What do you think, Walter? What are the odds of finding terrestrial vegetation this far from Earth? Never mind cultivated, edible vegetation.”
Walter’s response was concise. “Highly unlikely.”
The sergeant let out a derisive snort. “One hundred percent unlikely, I’d say.”
“So,” Daniels opined aloud, “assuming then that it didn’t get here on its own… who planted it?”
No one had an answer. No one had so much as a suggestion. In the absence of either, the team continued on through the wheat field, heading up-slope for the dense tree line in the distance. All around them the sheaves shuddered in the breeze, indifferent to the presence of newcomers, unable to reveal the secrets of their improbable presence.
“Nice place for a log cabin.” Walter glanced behind them, checking on how far they had come from the lander. “Trees to cut. Even a lake.”
Daniels appreciated the sentiment. Or more likely, she corrected herself, the cool, calculated attempt to ease the tension she was feeling. Either way, she couldn’t help but respond.
“Yes, Jacob would have loved this.”
Oram came over to join them. Now that they had set down safely and without incident, the captain was feeling confident, even boisterous. The latter was unlike him, but with the exception of the storm in the upper atmosphere, everything they had encountered thus far had exceeded his expectations.
“What do you think, Daniels?” he asked. “Looks like a perfect landing site.” Gesturing as they walked, he enthusiastically sited the new settlement. “Put the housing modules over there, civic modules across the way. Natural food source already in place—assuming Lopé’s assessment is confirmed. Access to plenty of fresh water, too. No wells necessary.”
“We don’t know how deep the lake is,” she mumbled. “Surface might be deceptive, volume might be small.”
“Easy enough to take the necessary measurements.” He shook his head, grinning and undeterred. “Act the pessimist if it suits you.” He took a deep breath. “You could bottle this air and sell it back on Earth. Trees, stone for building, probably the usual rocky world assortment of useful minerals and metals.” He tried to catch her eye. “And if this lake turns out to be shallow, there are dozens more. Just add water, and you’ve got an instant colony!”
She stayed non-committal. “I admit it shows promise. We’ll see.”
He chuckled, amused at her recalcitrance. “Oh, ye of little faith!” Flashing another uncharacteristically broad smile, he lengthened his stride to catch up to Lopé and Hallet, all but skipping as he accelerated. Watching her husband, Karine pulled up alongside Daniels.
“I know, he’s insufferable, and it’s worse when he’s happy, right?” When Daniels was about to comment, the other woman hushed her. “Whatever you’re going to say, believe me, I already know it. I live with him, remember?” She gave a conspiratorial smile and hurried to catch up with her spouse.
The wheat field surrendered to an evergreen forest, which soon grew dense. Showing bulging, almost spherical root tops, the tall thick boles closed in around them, shutting out the gray sky, muting the surrounding colors. At the same time, the slope they were ascending grew steeper, the terrain more difficult. A few places necessitated hiking sideways to avoid having to scramble up a steep cut or thrust in the mountainside.
It prompted Daniels to remark yet again on the most notable aspect of their surroundings—one that had continued to trouble her ever since their arrival.
“You hear that?”
Striding along nearby, Oram gave a listen, then frowned.
“Hear what?”
“Nothing. Still nothing. No birds. No animals. Not even an insect. Nothing. In a forest this verdant and lush, you’d think you’d hear something, even if it was just dead leaves crunching underfoot. Even if whatever was making the noise was only trying to get away from us. But it’s just—empty. There’s nothing.”
Lopé wore a strange expression, as if he found Daniels’ insistent observation unnerving. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that an exposed lakeshore might appear to be devoid of life. At the appearance of unfamiliar intruders, local animals might elect to flee, go quiet, and hide out. In contrast, the same couldn’t be said for an area full of food, like the wheat field. Or a healthy forest like the one through which they were presently climbing.
Apparently healthy, Daniels corrected. The utter absence of any fauna suggested otherwise. While she watched, Lopé made sure his carbine was snug against his shoulder and that its magazine was firmly seated.
Coming up behind the expedition leaders, Private Ankor wondered aloud, “How can you have plants without animals?”
“Typically,” Walter told him, “you can’t.” He gestured back the way they had come. “Interestingly, with wheat you can. It’s self-pollinating. A possible explanation for why it seems to thrive here in the apparent absence of any insects, birds, or bats.”
An increasingly uncomfortable Daniels found herself looking up into the brooding trees. It made no sense that this world should be inhabited solely by plants—especially advanced plants like wheat and conifers. Then she identified part of what made her uneasy—she felt as if she was being watched. Glancing around, she wondered if the others felt the same. Judging from their expressions, she was pretty certain they did.
They encountered a stream, and that lightened her mood a little. There was nothing abnormal about it, and everything familiar. It came cascading down the mountainside, full of all the life and movement that was absent from the forest. The cheerful aqueous splash broke the intimidating stillness, while providing a homey echo of Earth.
Sounding in their headsets, the voice of a concerned Tennessee offered counterpoint to the song of the stream and to their individual musings.
“Expedition team. You reading us?” he said. Oram acknowledged, and Tennessee continued. “Mother tells us the ion storm is getting worse. Maybe you’re not feeling it on the ground, but we’re having a hell of a time keeping track of you from up here. What’s your status?”
Oram responded. “We’re currently almost halfway to the target site. Stand by to monitor our communications when we get there.”
In orbit far above, Tennessee made what sense he could out of the transmission from below. At the conclusion of the captain’s reply, both audio and the hovering holo terrain map dissolved in a mass of static. For the moment, at least, viable communication with the surface and the expedition team went dead.
“Dammit.” He moved to his console, determined to continue his ongoing battle with reluctant algorithms.
Outside the lander, Faris continued to work on the components that were visible inside the open hatches. What would have taken no time at all to fix within the sterile confines of the Covenant was proving to be a frustrating, time-consuming process when standing in ankle-deep water, having to lean down and in just to see the problem.