Nearly collapsing, he sat down hard, indifferent to where he landed. He was scared and making no effort to hide it. In the dark as to what was happening to him and unable to hazard a diagnosis without suitable equipment, Karine could only stand nearby and watch.
“I can’t… breathe.” The private thumped his chest. “Can’t breathe…”
A tiny droplet of blood appeared, leaking from one tear duct. Espying it, Karine struggled to hide her alarm. That kind of reaction on her part was the last thing he needed. Without knowing what was wrong with him she couldn’t begin to prescribe a possible remedy.
She—they—needed help, and fast.
“You sit,” she ordered him. “Get your breath. Try breathing slowly—don’t panic. As soon as you get your wind and feel up to it, we’re going back to the lander. I’ll pack up. The specimens can stay here.” She indicated the silent beauty of their surroundings. “There’s nothing here to bother them, and I can come back for them later.” He nodded understanding and she moved away, quietly addressing her suit comm as she did so.
“Captain Oram, come in. We have—” She stopped, considered the effect a full description of Ledward’s condition might have on the others, and resumed speaking with a more moderated explanation. “We’re going back to the lander. Repeat. Private Ledward and I are returning to the lander. There’s something wrong with him.” Switching quickly to a suit-to-suit channel, she contacted the landing craft.
“Faris,” she said, “Ledward and I are on our way back. Prep the medbay.”
Standing in shallow water that now threatened to overtop the upper rim of her boots, Faris frowned as she digested the communication.
“Will do, Karine,” she responded. “What’s going on?”
“Just do it!” the scientist said. Anxiety was plain in her voice, though it didn’t sound like panic.
Straightening from where she had been working under the bend of the hull, the pilot stared toward the distant, forest-draped mountainside. It had begun to drizzle, a fact which did nothing to improve her mood, but it was lost in her concern for the obvious worry in the other woman’s voice.
Though Karine was reluctant to make physical contact with the increasingly incapacitated Ledward, she had no choice. Without her assistance he would not have been able to stand. Given the visibly deteriorating state of his eyes, she wondered how he could even see where he was going, yet he managed to stumble around and step over obstacles in their path. Time enough later to find out how he was managing it, she told herself.
Treat the condition first, then investigate it.
He coughed, hard. Half-expecting to see blood, she was surprised when there wasn’t any. No condition sprang to mind that corresponded with whatever was wrong with him. Even as she helped him along, her mind raced as she tried to determine the cause of his distress.
Daniels and Walter were the last to emerge from the wreck. As soon as they rejoined the others, each of them performed a quick check of his or her neighbor’s gear. Finding everybody’s equipment in working order, and no member of the team any the worse for their exploration of the relic’s interior, Oram ordered them downhill and back the way they had come.
Between the cool, damp air and the fact that they were now traveling downslope, they made far better time than they had in the course of the ascent.
Daniels moved up alongside the captain.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
He shook his head, annoyed and worried at the same time. “Something with Ledward. I don’t know. Karine indicated that he’s not doing well.”
She frowned. “He shouldn’t be sick. He wasn’t when we left the Covenant. Couldn’t be. No diseases to catch on board.” She gestured at their surroundings. “Air reads clear of pathogens. Walter was positive. Bacteria and germ-wise, this atmosphere is as sterile as it looks.”
“Maybe something Ledward was already carrying got shifted around during our descent. That drop was enough to upset anybody’s insides. We’ll know soon enough.” He paused a moment. “Karine would never interrupt her research unless it was something serious.”
They hadn’t covered much distance when Hallet stumbled. At his side immediately, Lopé eyed his partner with concern. The other man was drenched with sweat.
“Tom…?”
Hallet offered him a wan smile. “Sorry, sorry. Need some air is all.” He grimaced. “Feeling a bit queasy.”
Without being asked, Lopé took the other man’s carbine and slung it over his free shoulder. As they hurried to catch up to the others it was clear that despite his denials, Hallet wasn’t well.
As they reached and entered the wheat field, it became clear to an increasingly alarmed Karine that Ledward’s struggle to stay upright was failing rapidly. The private could barely walk now, let alone run. Ignoring his feeble objections, she took his pack, slipped one of his arms across her back, and half carried, half urged him forward.
Despite the continuing weak connection with the Covenant, Faris felt it incumbent on her to inform those on board the ship of what was happening, even as she finished readying the lander’s medbay to receive an apparently ill patient. She was back on the surface-to-orbit channel as soon as she re-entered the craft’s bridge.
“Covenant, this is Faris. Karine is returning to the lander early. Private Ledward is experiencing—some kind of episode. No idea what. Karine didn’t give any details.”
To her relief, Tennessee responded immediately, though it took several tries for his reply to be understood.
“What kind… of ‘episode’?”
“No idea,” Faris told him. “She just said there’s something wrong with him, and to get the medbay ready. That’s what I’m doing.”
Her husband’s tone turned anxious. “Are we talking about quarantine protocols?”
“Repeat, I don’t know anything more. Second contact from Karine indicated that Ledward was bleeding. Didn’t say from where, didn’t say how much. No indication as to cause. Just to prepare the medbay.”
His voice steadied but the transmission did not as he sought to calm her.
“Honey, can you repeat? You’re breaking up.”
Faris tried anew. “Tennessee, I’m just… not sure what’s going on, but Karine sounded scared. I’ve heard her sound worried, concerned, but never scared. Something’s going…” She broke off as readouts—as well as the lack of response—indicated yet another break in communications.
She tried adjusting instrumentation. No luck.
Fucking storm, she cursed to herself.
“Do you read me? Covenant? Covenant?”
She gave up trying as a glance through the foreport showed Karine and Ledward staggering toward the lander. Mist made it difficult to resolve details, but she could see that Karine was carrying the private’s pack, and helping to support him, as well. There was something wrong with him, all right. Even at a distance she didn’t have to be a medical specialist to see that he was sick.
But—how sick? And from what?
With her free arm, Karine was beckoning urgently. The gesture was unnecessary. Faris was already on her way, heading for the airlock after first switching on the lander’s beacon lights.
By that time an exhausted Karine was all but carrying Ledward. His legs scarcely functioned, and he was a dead weight against her. He stumbled along face-downward, moaning, no longer able to speak. They were close to the lander, its forward lights slicing through the mist toward them, when he finally went down.