“Got it.” At the navigation console, Ricks utilized supplementary instrumentation to further refine the available data. When he was satisfied, he nudged a control and the holographic image instantly zoomed in a second time to reveal additional elements. The initial fuzzy image of the distant star sharpened. Five planets became visible, along with the usual assortment of moons, asteroids, and other cosmic detritus. The navigator’s attention flicked back and forth between the holo and his console.
“Looks like she’s a main sequence star, a lot like our own, but quite old for the sequence. Very old. Five planets.” He stopped, frowned slightly, and rechecked several noteworthy readings. “And look at this—planet number four is square in the habitable zone.”
Everyone was suitably shaken. Given the amount of terrestrial effort that had gone into locating every possible habitable world within range of Earth’s colony ships, to have missed one in this sector was shocking.
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been, Oram reflected. Even in an age when deep space exploration and colonization were taken for granted, the one salient fact that people always seemed to have a difficult time grasping was simply how big space was. Add to that the fact that the system they had just discovered lay in an area replete with cosmic obscurantism—like the flare that had damaged the ship—and maybe it wasn’t so surprising it had been missed.
Nor was it likely to be the last they had overlooked.
“Okay, so it’s in the right neighborhood,” he said, “and near enough to resolve the vitals in real time. What do they look like?”
Ricks zoomed in still further, straining the ship’s resolution capabilities to the utmost. It took a moment for Mother to gather and process the requisite data so he could share it.
“It’s a prime candidate. Point ninety-six Gs at the surface. All the way around the planet. No extreme equatorial or polar gravitational distortions. Liquid water oceans. Scattered land masses, granitic and basaltic in general composition. Can’t tell about motile tectonics— we’re too far out and these are just the preliminaries. Have to spend some time there to acquire that kind of info.” He paused a moment. “Everything points to a high likelihood of a living biosphere. Leastwise, the necessary markers are all there.” His attention shifted to Daniels. “Everything I see suggests a world that exceeds the company’s and your most optimistic projections for Origae-6.”
“You’re sure of all of this?” Looking skeptical, she studied the data on his console.
He grunted. “As sure as Mother’s sensors can be. And we’ve got a damn sight better view of it from here than anyone on Earth did of Origae-6.” The implication of this information escaped no one.
“How did we miss it?” she demanded. “We scanned every corner of this sector.”
Oram was gratified to be able to interject. “View obviously is blocked from Earth. Dense nebulae, dust cloud, periodic flares screening out the infrared—maybe when the searcher for this sector made its pass, this world was at perihelion, on the opposite side of its star from Earth. Or the whole system could have been positioned exactly behind another intervening star or two. Not to mention the tricks that gravitational lensing can play with planetary scanners.” He tried for placating. “Don’t fault yourself, or the program, for the oversight.”
Though Lopé listened as intently as the others, his perspective was more prosaic.
“How far is it? Not from home. From here.”
“She’s close.” As curious as any of them, Ricks had already run the necessary calculations. “Real close. Just a short jump from our present recharge position. Maybe a couple of weeks. At jumpspeed, it wouldn’t even be necessary to go into hypersleep.”
Everyone absorbed that bit of information. No more hypersleep. No more waking up stiff, sometimes sore, with weakened muscles, shouting nerves, churning guts, and a mouth that felt like it had been chewing cotton for a decade. All that, and a potential colony site whose vitals exceeded those of the one for which the Covenant was headed.
Oram noted their reactions before turning to Walter.
“How long until we reach Origae-6?”
“Seven years, four months, three weeks, two days,” the synthetic replied promptly. “Give or take twelve hours, and barring the unexpected.”
“Hell of a long sleep-cycle.” Faris stared evenly at her husband. “Also seven years’ worth of the ‘unexpected.’ Seven additional years of brain and body knockout without knowing how well the ship is coping with the strain.”
“Gotta tell you,” Upworth put in, “I’m not crazy about getting back into one of those pods. I’ve always been a touch claustrophobic.”
Faris made a face. “Claustrophobia is an automatic disqualification for crewing a colony ship.”
The younger woman shrugged. “Okay, so I lied a little bit on the application.” She avoided Oram’s gaze. “Doesn’t bother me once I’m asleep.”
He chose to ignore the confession. It hardly mattered now. Acutely aware that everyone was waiting on him, he knew it was time to act the captain.
“All right, let’s take a look,” he said. “It’s not so far offline from Origae that stopping there will have a significant impact on the ship’s resources. If nothing else, we’ll have some interesting information to shoot back to Earth.”
Whether it was the correct decision or not, he didn’t know. What was plain was that it was the one the crew wanted. Their excitement was evident and unrestrained as they went back to work. Only Daniels and Tennessee looked concerned. While he returned to his station, Daniels joined Oram in gazing out the forward port. Intent on their assigned tasks, no one paid the pair any attention.
“You sure about this, Captain?”
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we spent a decade searching for a world like Origae-6. The company, its outside consultants, relevant government divisions—everyone and everything was focused on finding the latest, best place to put down a colony. Ten years’ effort by hundreds of specialists engaged in detailed scanning of thousands of systems, to come up with a single optimal candidate. We vetted it, we ran thousands of simulations, we mapped possible terrain based on all the information that could be gathered from a distance—it’s what we all trained for.”
“I understand that,” he began, “but the possibility of—”
Interrupting him, heedless of protocol, she plunged on. “And now we’re going to scrap all that to chase down the source of a rogue transmission?”
He chose not to upbraid her for cutting him off. “Not necessarily for a rogue transmission. For the opportunity to perhaps find a better prospect. One closer and possibly even better suited to our purpose. The transmission, its source, and origin, are incidental.” His expression tightened. “If this world turns out to be suitable for our needs, I don’t care if we ever find the source of that transmission. It can remain a mystery for the colonists to ponder as they’re establishing themselves. A ghost story to frighten children. What matters is if the planet turns out to match its stats, as reported by Mother.” He shrugged. “If it doesn’t, no harm done. We’ll continue on to Origae-6, with little if anything sacrificed in the process.”
She took a breath. “Think about it, Captain. Christopher. A transmission from, by, or about a human being out here where there shouldn’t be any humans. An unknown planet—no, an unknown system—that suddenly appears out of nowhere. And don’t talk to me about intervening cosmic debris, or stellar masking, or anything like that. Here’s a planet that just happens to be perfect for us. Or at least from a distance, appears to be. It’s too good to be true.”
He drew back slightly, startled at her intensity. “‘Too good to be true’? What does that even mean? For a scientist, that’s a pretty colloquial reaction to a still unresolved finding.”
“You want colloquial, Captain. Okay. I’ll keep it in non-technical terms. It means we don’t know what the fuck’s out there.”
Remember what your wife told you, he
reminded himself. Patience. Patience and understanding.
“Are you upset because your team missed this system?” he asked evenly. “Or recorded the system, but missed the fourth planet? Or maybe because whoever was responsible for analyzing the scans of his or her fragment of this sector overlooked its possibilities? Even the automated planetary search system itself could have missed it. Computers do experience oversights sometimes. All it takes is one transposed digit and suddenly there’s no potentially habitable world where one actually exists.”
It was hard for her to argue with the unprovable.
All she said was, “It’s risky.”
His reply was magnanimous. “Every colonization represents a risk. The trick is to minimize them. Right now I’m looking at a few weeks in hypersleep for the colonists, versus another seven years plus. Not to mention the enormously reduced wear and tear on the ship’s systems. By making this detour, if it ends up being just a detour, I’m not committing us to anything. As captain, I have to follow the path that’s laid out before me.” Looking back, he nodded in the direction of Ricks’ station.
“Navigation has provided us with a possible destination that’s closer, easier to reach, and potentially superior.” He looked back at her. “If we’re fortunate and the preliminary analysis is accurate, this may prove to be a better habitat for the entire colony. If that turns out to be the case, can you imagine the reaction when we start to revive the colonists?”
She nodded knowingly, her expression still sour.
“And you’ll be the guy to have found it.”
He chose not to argue with her, not caring in so choosing if his lack of combativeness only served to confirm her preferred conclusion.
“And we don’t want to resume hypersleep,” he said. “Nobody does. Nobody wants to get back into those damn pods. Also, there’s something else. Singing and ancient song selections aside, that sounded like a human voice. A voice in need. Nobody can deny that. The desperation was unmistakable.” His voice trailed off. “If I was a lone human stuck on a distant, unknown planet…”
“How is that even possible?” she asked him.
He was ready with an answer. “Ships go missing from time to time. You know that. Transports, prospecting vessels—not everybody takes the time and trouble to report their itinerary.” He essayed a thin smile. “Not everybody wants the government or competing companies to know their itinerary.”
She shifted tack. “We’re responsible for two thousand colonists. Whole families. They went into hypersleep on the assumption that when they were awakened, it would be on a productive, livable, safe world. They were promised Origae-6.
“This isn’t about you,” she pressed. “This is about them.”
He stiffened. “I’m fully aware of what they were promised. Karine and I were promised the same thing immediately, to occur upon the Covenant’s official decommissioning. As were you and the rest of the crew. I’m not free climbing here. I’m making a sound judgment based on all the data we have. Or are you disputing Ricks’ and Mother’s analytics?”
“Yeah, well,” she muttered, “we don’t owe the colonists sound judgment. We owe them our best judgment, Captain. And in my judgment, putting the mission in jeopardy to follow a rogue signal to an unknown and unidentified planet in an uncharted system is not the best judgment.”
He could no longer conceal his exasperation.
“It’s the decision I’m making,” he replied. “And the signal itself is secondary, at best. I’ve already said that. What we’re really going to take a look at is a potentially colonizable world that’s seven years nearer to our present position, and possibly more amenable to settlement than Origae-6.”
She drew herself up. “Well, as your second-in-command, I need to protest officially.”
“Officially?” His voice went flat. “Do what you need to do. Mother will record it in the ship’s log, and you can send it out by relay whenever you feel the time is right. I’ll acknowledge your objection, if you wish. Officially.” He turned away from her.
* * *
Seething inside, she watched him move over to Ricks’ station. There was nothing more she could do. Despite her objections, she knew that most if not all of the rest of the crew would back Oram’s decision.
The prospect of not having to endure another seven years or more of hypersleep was a powerful incentive even to those who might be inclined to support her position. She could only file her formal objection, knowing that it would take more time to reach Earth than it would for the Covenant to arrive in the uncharted system—much less for a response to come back to the ship. Given that reality, she wasn’t sure it was worth the effort to file.
Oram would know that, too, she realized.
She could retire to her cabin—hers alone now—and rage and scream and kick the walls in frustration. If she requested Walter’s presence, he would come and listen solicitously to her grievances. He might even agree with her, but it was inconceivable that the synthetic might vote against the captain. Logic and reason were her only allies, and for all the good they were doing her, they might as well be locked up in hypersleep alongside the colonists.
There being nothing more she could do, she remembered the perfect joints Walter had rolled for her. That way lay, if not redress, at least momentary contentment.
Without a word to any of her colleagues she exited the bridge. It was a measure of their excitement and anticipation that no one, not even Tennessee, turned from their work to inquire about her state of mind, or where she was going.
VI
A bluish sun flared against the blackness of space as the massive bulk of the Covenant slowed upon entering the unnamed system.
As it approached the fourth planet, every station on the bridge was manned, every set of organic and inorganic eyes and ears was attuned to the blue-white dot they were approaching. Its two moons, each smaller than Earth’s, occupied unremarkable orbits. In contrast to the world they circled, the satellites offered nothing of interest.
On the bridge, Ricks worked his instrumentation with the hand-to-eye coordination of a professional gambler. At the moment, the comparison was apt.
“I’m cycling through every communications channel, including the theoretical ones, but all I’m getting is a lot of interference and white noise, some high frequency echoes… Trying to isolate and analyze, but it’s just a mess all across the spectrum.” He pursed his lips. “Can’t even tell if some of the sources are natural or artificial in origin. Planet’s got a heavy core, ionosphere is heavily charged, and predictors suggest the poles swing a lot. Place is a real electromagnetic gumbo.” He glanced across to another station. “You hearing anything?”
Nearby, an apprehensive Daniels stayed focused on her instruments as the Covenant maintained its cautious approach.
Having recovered his worry beads from his wife, Oram was nervously clicking them against one another— but softly, softly, so as not to disturb any of the others. At the central navigation table, Walter looked on intently as Mother continuously refined the imagery of the nearing world and its two moons. As yet there were no topographic details, but he knew those would begin to become available soon.
Finally replying to Ricks, Upworth nudged one half of her headphones and shook her head negatively.
“I’m getting pretty much what you’re getting, except I’ve kept the steady signal from our friendly ghost on a separate line.” She made a face. “I’m getting pretty sick of the song, by the way.”
Tennessee let out a dramatic sigh. “The siren’s song.”
“‘Once he hears to his heart’s content, sails on, a wiser man,’” Daniels murmured. When Oram gave her a sharp sideways glance, she added with a shrug, “I’m not criticizing. Blame Homer.”
“Well,” Tennessee quipped, “whatever’s down there, it isn’t Scylla, and it isn’t West Virginia, either.”
Ricks looked over at him. “What is a ‘West Virginia,’ anyway?”
“Ancient tribal d
emarcation,” Walter explained without looking up from his position. “There once were a great many of them, back when that sort of thing was considered relevant. The world used to be full of dozens of minor political entities, all working at cross-purposes instead of for the common good of the species and the planet.”
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.”