Unable to challenge the other man’s logic, a frustrated Tennessee looked back at the holo.
“So we do nothing?”
“Sometimes doing nothing is actually doing something.” Upworth didn’t hesitate to back her husband. “Sometimes doing nothing is the right thing to do. I know that’s our people down there, Tee. I also know that there are times when one has to put emotion aside and exercise a little discipline. The ship stays where it is, and we wait for the fucking storm to pass.”
He looked back at her. “We have no idea when that will be. You heard the same thing I did in the last transmissions from the lander. Panic, fear. They’re in real trouble down there.”
“So what can we do about it?” Upworth shot back. “Even if we can re-establish communication and talk to them, we can’t do anything to help. We can’t evacuate them. If they’re in trouble they’re gonna have to figure it out for themselves. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality. You know it is.”
Tennessee turned away from her. “Mother. Bring us to within eighty kilometers of the storm. Thrusters only. Comply.”
“Understood.” The familiar synthetic voice sounded on the bridge. “Descending now.”
The slightest of jolts ran through the deck as the thrusters fired. Her arms at her sides, her hands balled into fists, Upworth was now staring at Tennessee in disbelief. “Seriously, Tee, you need to stop this before it goes too far.”
The big man’s expression was set. “And you need to return to your station. You’re going to have work to do.”
Ricks jumped in, trying to mediate.
“Take it easy, both of you.”
Now glaring at their temporary captain, she ignored him. “I know your wife’s down there,” she said tersely, “but you’re in command here, and your first responsibility is to the colonists. That’s why there’s even a human crew on this ship—to look after the fate of the colonists.”
“Duly noted,” Tennessee replied dryly. “Kindly return to your fucking station.”
She started to say something else, caught herself, and whirled. After a glance at Ricks, they both took seats at their respective consoles.
The argument over, if only for now, Tennessee moved to gaze out the main port. Below, the planet was looming slowly but steadily larger in his field of view. As was the ferocious, lightning-lashed storm.
Three figures emerged onto the roof. Looking around, Cole chose the highest easily accessible point and began to unpack the external field communications gear he carried. In the absence of any usable information from the signal locator, he boosted the power as much as he could, hoped for the best, and started broadcasting.
High overhead he could see powerful electrical discharges lancing through the upper atmosphere. The prospects for punching through the storm were not good, but they had to try.
“Come in, Covenant. Expedition party reporting. This is Private Cole. Come in, Covenant. Are you reading me? Acknowledge, Covenant. Digital if you can’t get through with words.”
“I don’t know that they’ll hear you through the storm,” David commented. Tilting back his head slightly, he peered upward. “They can be quite severe. Sometimes several storm cells will merge and cover half the planet.”
Lopé turned from Cole to regard their escort. “How long do the storms usually last?”
David shrugged. “Days, weeks, months. For a while I tried to find some pattern to them. Something resembling a predictable climate. Eventually I gave up. There is no rhyme or reason to their manifestation or to their duration.” He pointed upward. “This one could evaporate tomorrow. Or it could rage until the end of the local year.” He gestured toward Cole. “But do keep at it. I wish you luck.” Turning, he headed back the way they had come.
“I should see to the others,” he said. “This is a grand structure, this maybe-cathedral, with much dark beauty to commend it, but I have had ample time to familiarize myself with its attractions. I understand how a newly arrived human could find it somewhat… intimidating. Especially given the circumstances of your arrival.”
“Wait.” At Lopé’s request, David turned obediently. “If we can’t get through to the ship and we have to come back down to rejoin the others, how do we find our way?”
The synthetic smiled. “I apologize. It has been quite a while since I have had the company of humans. In that time I have forgotten certain things. For example, that you cannot automatically retrace steps you have taken. You may not have noticed that there were only a few side corridors leading off the one we traversed to arrive here. It should be easy enough for you to find your way back down, but if you do not feel up to the task of returning by yourselves, and you do not have instrumentation in your suits that will allow you to retrace your steps, rest assured I will come back for you.” He turned and left, leaving Lopé and Cole alone to continue their methodical attempts to make contact with the ship.
David descended from the roof, but he didn’t return to the sculpture chamber to rejoin the other members of the expedition. Instead, he turned into a side corridor and then descended another curved stairway. This terminated in a dark chamber that boasted an especially soaring interior.
Ambient light penetrating from above highlighted the lush beauty of walls covered in hanging gardens. Occasionally spotted with large, plum-like fruit, thick vines crawled downwards. Exotic night-blooming flowers opened alien petals to the unseen twin moons. From hidden sources high above, water trickled downward, feeding the vines and other clinging growths.
Avoiding the falling water, David crossed the floor to the far corner. An accumulation of salvaged, Engineersized instruments and devices lay before a large, polished slab of mirror-like material. It was not glass. Even in the absence of functioning electronics, it provided whoever looked into it a feeling of depth, of three-dimensionality. Halting before it, David stared thoughtfully at his reflection, tilting his head first to one side, then the other, before bending forward to show the top of his pate.
Reaching into the pile of paraphernalia nearby, he picked out a pair of hand-made shears. With great deliberation and care, he began to cut his hair.
Walter had found himself unable to share his companions’ relief at having time to do nothing. Possessed of a mind designed to operate without rest, he searched for something to occupy himself while the others simply sat, dozed, or murmured the usual interhuman inconsequentialities to one another.
Since no one needed him, his time was his own. An atypical situation, but one he did not reject. Leaving the main domed chamber and its brooding sculpted heads, he entered a side corridor and began to explore some of the adjacent, smaller alcoves.
Having already delved into the one that had been used as living quarters by Elizabeth Shaw, he continued onward to investigate some of the others. Most were empty. A few held inscrutable examples of what appeared to be Engineer technology or art. He was ready to concede that nothing more of interest lay in the vicinity when he came to the last in the long series of openings.
Where he happened upon David’s living quarters. Not that his counterpart required such a refuge for comfort, but it was useful as a place for accumulating helpful or interesting items. As it turned out, it was much more than that.
For one thing, it was filled with drawings. Literally filled, from the covered walls to stacks on the floor. Their number and the precision and skill with which they had been executed were wholly recognizable to Walter, since had he attempted to do likewise, the style would have been exactly the same.