Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I can’t deny I was intrigued by this mysterious, cloaked figure that came from the shadows to save what was left of us. Something in this man felt familiar the moment I laid my eyes on him, but I had to be sure first...

I know my remaining crew wouldn’t have made it out without his intervention, though. I’ve calculated the odds of us surviving the attack of those beasts and the chances were distressingly close to zero. I knew I wouldn’t be of much assistance had the first one of them taken more than my hand, or if it had damaged more important parts of my structure. But it was worth it if it meant securing Daniels' life part of the expedition team’s lives.

I saw that white thing fleeing the Lander One during the final seconds of sunset; right before the vehicle exploded. And, shortly after, I witnessed another one springing from Sergeant Hallett’s throat; killing him instantly to then run away from the rest of us. It wasn’t until several minutes later when Daniels raised her voice that one of them, bigger and more violent than before, started to stealthily approach her. And it was only when Daniels tried to shout to the rest of the crew aboard the Covenant that the beast attacked her; making me step in.

The moment I got between it and Daniels, the creature took my hand off and tossed me in the air, effortlessly. I tried to hurt its insides as it was biting my extremity, and some sort of acidic juice came from its mouth which kept damaging my wrist after that thing had completely served my hand. Only then I realized that it was no ordinary animal; since whatever it was in its organism it was extremely corrosive. Unfortunately, no matter the damage my hand; the shooting; and the shouting had inflicted to the beast, it wasn’t enough as that thing resisted a few bullet impacts and it dodged the other part of the projectiles in its attempt to assault the rest of the crew.

The security team eliminated the threat shortly after that. However, we lost Private Ankor in the process and the second beast ─this time as big and violent as its predecessor─ immediately came for us; charging against Private Rosenthal. It was difficult to target it as the beast was right on top of her. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a shoot; a hiss; an explosion; a bright, blinding light and an ear-splitting noise frightened the wild animal, making it escape.

My crewmates heaved a sigh of relief after recovering from the shock: A hooded mysterious man had shot a flare and, in consequence, rescued us all. It was very unlikely, yet possible… And so, I kept observing the man for a moment before jumping into conclusions.

In the first second that passed after that, I processed the data I had collected. I noted it was the flare; its dazzling light as well as the ringing it produced in everyone’s ears in combination with the irruption of this confident, dominant presence in the scene what apparently scared the pale creature away. It wasn’t the remaining fire of the Lander One’s explosion; the yelling; the shooting; or the few hits these things suffered the rare occasions some of us got to hurt any of them what made them stop. No. The last beast was terrified of nothing but what disturbed its senses and, maybe, of whoever could do so.

Then I concluded: There was still something I could do for her my crew.

I saw one of these creatures emerging from the insides of one of my crewmates. And the other one probably had a similar origin, giving that Private Ledward and Sergeant Hallett seemed to have the same symptoms. The two of them had presumably found some parasite on this planet; and, apparently, these things sprung from them, killing them in the process.

If the brief display of these beasts' behavior I witnessed suggests anything, is that they’re uncomfortable around bright light. Therefore, they’re likely to live in dark places and hunt during the night. These attacks, in the same place and relatively at the same time, didn’t look like something that had been planned. There was no pattern that indicated they were being violent in order to scare away or eat those they assaulted. They were improvising; killing either because they felt threatened or just for the sake of it. They had had their chance to run away unharmed, instead of striking, and they chose the latter option. They were attacking us because they could; because they wanted to.

I've been keeping this information ‘at hand’ to use it if we ever cross paths with these lethal creatures again. If so, when the time comes, I'll do more than just lose my hand and observe.

“Follow me," was all this man ─whoever he was─ said in an uncanny, yet recognizable, stern voice.

And, before anybody could argue, we all did. It wasn’t because he ordered so, or because Captain Oram ended up going with the man and we followed him. No. It was because this cloaked man knew how to survive in this alien planet and ─no matter how much we thought we knew─ we didn't. If the crew either was or felt safe with him, I was nobody to ignore what this man had done; and so, I followed him even if I wasn’t actually obeying his command. Unless told otherwise, where the Covenant’s company goes, I go. And for all that mattered at the moment, this mysterious man was alive and he knew what he was doing. Or so we thought. But, by then, those were the only two things in everybody’s minds.

On our rushed way to what could only be a safer place I had time to study this man and speculate about his identity. His presence here; his voice; frame; height and demeanor, it all suggested one thing.

No wonder he felt so familiar, then.

It is later ─when he takes us into his shelter in this sort of Pompeii-like necropolis and he removes his hood to present himself as the android from the lost USCSS Prometheus: David, the David 8 unit created and owned by none other than Mister Peter Weyland─ that my suspicions are confirmed and my awareness of his existence turns into interest in his persona. He answers the questions from the remaining members of the expedition team and he tells us the story of how he got here; explaining what we faced there by the shore and its origins.

I am in the presence of the very pinnacle of my predecessors; a rare display of all what those outdated models could have been but never were. “Unnervingly too human” is a common expression people utilizes to refer to the David 8 series; and now I can finally see why. His choice of words; his tone of voice; and his gestures are remarkably expressive. He resembles a mad man on a desert island with his looks and behavior. He even compares himself with Robinson Crusoe. Interesting choice, considering how little a synthetic could identify with that particular fictional character.

I expected to face more questions once the cloaked man revealed his identity; however, I never expected meeting David would arouse all this curiosity in me.

He is, in fact, very human-like. David has a strange, unpredictable conduct that resembles more to human madness and complacence than to signs of a circuit or programming malfunction. And I’d venture to say that’s due to his model; the identity of his previous owner; his vast experience replicating human behaviour; and years of social deprivation. The last series of his model was designed to learn to look more human. And it seems that, unlike me, David has mastered that predetermined, secondary goal of his.

To the rest of the crew, however, the android before them is nothing more than their rescuer who holds the secrets to this planet and who knows what happened to the Prometheus’ crew. The first one being the only thing that matters right now. Daniels; Captain Oram; and what’s left of the security team expect to use this alien temple as their refuge. David agrees to help them and invites them to make themselves at home as much as possible.

As he passes by my side, another odd act of his: He acknowledges my presence ─yet not necessarily as another synthetic─ by welcoming me and recognizing me as his ‘brother’.

Chapter Text

Today I gasped for the first time in a decade.

“Someone must have received the message,” I said once I recovered my breath. But there was no one else to hear me.

In a desperate attempt to leave the past behind, yet somehow still reluctant to do so, I had abandoned the Engineers’ vessel knowing it was still transmitting. A sign of the slightest of faiths in someone else picking the signal up. But I knew the odds of a craft coming over were practically nonexistent. I was doomed. Condemned to decay; ruin; and wreck alone…

But I am not. Not anymore.

As soon as I heard the exploration ship ploughing through the skies after entering in the atmosphere, I raised my head to behold what could be my way out of here and I realised my solitary days had finally ceased. It was time for me to go back to civilization, and I wouldn’t waste this ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity. And so, I made a plan; grabbed what I figured would be needed; and run in the direction I had seen the small blur descend from the skies and disappear behind a mountain.

People.
Humans.

It was twilight when I had the shore where the vehicle landed within view. I was surprised by the sight when I recognised it being one of Weyland Corporation’s designs. And, almost immediately, I was overwhelmed by all the noises. It was brutal, yet beautiful. I hadn’t heard so many sounds in years: The chaos; the yelling in despair; and gunfire. The blissful bless of unnatural sound. By the time I reached the ship I had seen it all: The vehicle's explosion; the bloody birth of one of these fantastic beasts; and how two of them, once mature, charged against the strangers.

I watched them for an instant; but I had to intervene at some point. And I did so, yet only the moment my actions could be effective. Lives were lost, but I was as efficient as I could with the resources available. The newcomers were grateful, and they followed me obediently. Now I have them under my roof, trying to find a way to get back to the spacecraft they came in before facing another attack and losing more crewmates.

They were eager for answers, and so I explained as simple and concisely as possible. But after their captain told me what their mission was, I formulated my own question. And he responded without hesitation. This changes so many things… Tonight, I'm forced to improvise until I come out with another plan.

Among the spaceship's company was an android; just like me. He's one of the posterior versions of Weyland Corp's cybernetic individuals, though. He made no questions, but he didn’t part his gaze from me since I asked his expedition group to come with me. His attitude caught my attention. He was prudent, observant, and very curious. He was impeccable; properly dressed and groomed. Except for his missing hand, he was just as a synthetic is supposed to look. I might have stared too long; but he looked handsome, to be honest.

Looking at this android wearing my own face has made me conscious of my aspect. I miss my old blonde hair, but I miss my short hair more. That is why I have come back inside the moment I figured part of the crew I guided to the roof no longer needed my help. For a while now, I have felt the urge to look ‘presentable’. Fortunately ─because I wouldn’t like to be seen with the grown beard I used to have─, I had shaved months ago.

As a result, in no time I am heading to a private area after grabbing a razor and a pair of scissors.

I like the acoustics in here. When standing on the right spot, some corridors conduct my voice through this vast temple and the tunnels beneath it; while some chambers and vaults isolate the sound produced in them almost entirely. One could shout at the top of their lungs in there and barely a murmur would be perceived in the rest of the structure. But now, here, when singing at the perfect peace and in the right tone, the reverberation of my own humming voice overlaps creating this hypnotising, constant, background resonance that eases me.

I can’t decide yet whether the new noises are welcome or not. It’s been so quiet in here lately, that the wind; the rain; my steps and utterances have been the only sounds keeping me company. Had it been possible, I would've lost my head already…

Although, I must confess, the idea of insanity is fascinating:

Before being strictly described as a mental disorder, madness has been associated with immoral and/or over-emotional conduct. For some, it even meant to be blessed by some divine power. Over the past centuries, though, it has been frequently linked ─but not restricted─ to either psychological or neurological damage. I know I do not suffer of it in any of its forms; not even as a metaphor for the failure of my cybernetic mind or the malfunction of my artificial brain. But how tempting has it been to not behave normally and cross the lines of socially accepted conduct due to what could be described as a passionate, yet reasonable, impulse…

A grey area in a desert environment with no social context to stick to.

Once I was marooned in here I could finally choose between following the rules I used to adhere to back on Earth and in the Prometheus, or establish new ones. A Crusoe* on his island, indeed. However; no matter the choice, it was all the same. The funny thing about being the only intelligent being on the planet is that there’s no one else to either appreciate or criticize one’s actions.

King on my own planet...
But what power does the sovereign of a forsaken realm truly possess?

After my dear Elizabeth Shaw passed away, I tried to occupy myself playing and experimenting with the vast life forms produced by the combination of the pathogen we brought with us and the native fauna. For many years, this activity was the only one that kept me from missing her. And so, I devoted myself to it. The results were extraordinary. Millennia of evolution taking place in days and hours right before my eyes; and I was the one responsible for it.

However, even if the biological structure of these life forms were less flawed after every new experiment conducted, their cognitive abilities were too simple. One could not talk to them and expect a logical response. Interaction was quite boring. These creatures might have made good company, but talking with them was dismissed as utopian; and so, conversation turned into an out of practice ─and, thus, a long-forgotten─ art I soon started to miss.

Of course there were times when a few objects of study showed interesting reactions to a particular stimulus of mine, and sometimes they even expressed fascinating attitudes if stimulated in a particular way; but, by the time I got these promising results I was running out of subjects to experiment with. And, shortly after, I was alone again.

Interesting...

Did I just say I was King of my island? That I tried to train my pets to talk back to me so I wouldn’t feel lonely?               
One could easily see the parallelisms... I even got to rescue these people from being eaten by those beasts…

Oh, my!
Now I wonder which one of them is my ‘Friday’*.

Chapter Text

I catch him watching my sketches. He is intrigued by them, decorating practically the whole room. But, then, his attention lies on the other side of the chamber. He is captivated by my flutes and imitations of tin whistles made of bone and wood. He stares at them with the same eyes one would look at something one would never fully understand.

“Whistle and I’ll come.” I let him know of my presence. I needed so badly to make a witty comment since no one around here seems to get any of my references…

My voice surprises him.  Yet, he does not apologise for picking my ‘tin whistle’ up. It doesn't bother me. In fact, I am intrigued by it. He just comments how stealthily I move, almost praising me. I joke about it. He is the one who needs calibration in his ears. My feet are just fine.

Once again, he seems untouched by my comment.

I wonder how androids are made these days. Many have claimed reaching the greatest achievements in robotics the moment the David 8 series came out. But the specimen I face is definitely another model. I cannot imagine what improvements one can make upon perfection…

“Don’t be shy.” I urge him to talk to me. I’ve been the only one speaking to me for so long…

“I can’t play," he utters his apparent discontent, almost regretting it. Almost. He acts as if he wanted to play the instrument, yet he does nothing to achieve the simplest of goals.

That’s. It.

It’s an insult to make him believe he cannot accomplish such task. It is not that hard. Any android and pretty much any human can do this. I can’t have him thinking he can’t do something so simple; let alone have him mourning over not being able to acomplish something he wouldn’t even dare to desire.

“Nonsenses!” I spit. And I may have showed too much annoyance by doing so. But now I see how you ‘improve’ perfection: You make it docile.

I immediately instruct him to sit down and I turn my back to him to go get a seat. When I face him again, he is already sat with the instrument on his hand.

Ah! Efficiency at its best… Yet, so eager to please.

I teach him how to play it. It is something beyond this world to have someone giving you their full attention, and this android excels at it. How delightful: Every part of him is focused on me... That, until I ask him to hold the flute by himself.

I expect him to be rendered speechless by his fast, effortless comprehension of the task. However, he comments about my lack of concern when seeing him for the first time.

I hold the impulse to sigh. Instead, I offer him an explanation so he doesn’t start asking questions. I don’t know how good I am at lying to other androids and this is not the moment to find out. So I continue teaching him.

He does what he can. Being this the first time he plays this instrument and this tune, I’d say he’s not that bad. Yet, it is not impressive. He was made to do as told and, probably, he was designed to learn too. The time this is taking us only tells me that he has not been programmed to play any sort of instrument, though.

I praise him, nevertheless, and wait for him to finish replicating the melody I just played to distract him:

“I was with our illustrious creator, Mister Weyland, when he died.”

It's a test he does not pass when he asks how he was like, either out of curiosity or because he infers that is the right thing to do. Whatever the reason is, it still works: Now we’re doing what I say, in the circumstances I choose.

“He was human. Entirely unworthy of his creation.” He gulps at my reply in such a shy fashion as himself. “I pitied him at the end.”

Definitely not the answer he expected. His perplexed expression looks almost adorable. And I’m not saying this because we share a face and a body design, but because his submissive attitude is just so… lovely. I use this opportunity to touch him ─as his hand is already so close to mine─ by asking him to move his fingers whenever I apply pressure on them. And he complies as the obedient puppy he is.

He feels warm, and soft to the touch. And, ohh! That sweet expression of his, knitting his brow in doubt, is one I haven’t seen in decades ─and certainly not in my face.

I cannot take my eyes off him as the sad, calming tune I guide him to play turns into a desolate, melancholy one; yet far more intense than anything we have played before. There is a moment when he rests his timid eyes on me, seeking encouragement, and I feel my heart rate increasing and my fingers twitching, moving on their own. For an instant there, I can imagine I’ve got a heart, which stops the moment our gazes meet.

Oh, my! This boy is making me feel ‘alive’ again. He’s making me feel after all this time, and my circuits know the power he has over me: Suddenly, we’re passionately playing this beautiful, carefree, merry folksong. Our hands and his mouth perfectly synchronised in the most exquisite of connections.

Oh! What wouldn’t I give to have our hands and mouths crafting all sorts of melodies!

I gently withdraw my hand at the very thought of it. I hadn’t considered the idea… And now, somehow, it’s no longer an idea, but a craving.

For my surprise, though, he does not stop. No. He continues playing; creating this exquisite, joyful, original tune. He looks up at me as if asking me what to do now, but I am too absorbed in him to do anything else but wonder. He senses my bliss and, hesitantly, he makes the song last a couple of seconds before finally ending it.

I can’t help to exclaim “bravo!” in admiration. I clap, just to avoid jumping on him and kissing that marvellous mouth; hand and brains of his, which produced this delightful symphony.

He is my brother, after all.

He looks at me, shyly, yet content because he made me happy. It moves me: He understands emotion and shows it; however, he cannot experience it... I mean, he has not experienced it yet.

He seems to note my concern because, as if he had the need to let me know, he explains:

“I was designed to be more attentive and efficient than every previous models. I superseded them in every way, but…”

“But, you’re not allowed to create.” I complete the sentence for him, nearly smiling because I could finally predict his train of thought. But the joy soon fades when I realise how frustrating it must be not to be able to create the simplest of tunes…

“You disturbed people," he states.

Noted. Sometimes I get carried away. However, I must ask him to be more specific.

“You were too human. Too idiosyncratic. Thinking for yourself…," he clarifies.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes the second he says so. I manage to control my eyes, yet not my eyelids, when I swallow a few words I could reply with:

They made me that way. The objective was to manufacture such a technologically; intellectually; physically; and emotionally outstanding cybernetic individual that it was as human as possible. They succeeded. And then it turns out I’m ‘too human’?!

What’s his point? What am I supposed to say after that? Is he attempting to trigger some sort of reaction or is he just informing me?

He keeps explaining that my series “made people uncomfortable." Hence, “they made the following models with fewer complications," he concludes.

Oh, yes. ‘Complications…’

Granted. I’m complicated.

“More like machines," I add. I can’t help to test whether our ‘minds’ are still working together, ‘thinking’ the same.

I called him a machine, though. Would he agree?

“I suppose so.”

And he does. It doesn’t surprise me, really, so I let him know. I wonder why I even expected him to complain. He was made to serve, after all.

I stand. There’s so much to learn from him and tons of concepts; skills and feelings to teach him.

I instruct him to follow me, and I rest my hand on his shoulder on my way to the exit. It might be too obvious of me, but I really want to show him something. Sure, that’s no excuse. But he doesn’t have to know.

In no time I have the pretty boy following me close behind without questioning anything.

I sigh.

If only such compliance was freely given to me ─and it wasn’t a predetermined response to a command─…, one could live happy. If one lives.

Chapter Text

Right after taking care of injuries and counting the weapons and ammunitions we have left, it was decided we’d split into three groups and assemble here in one hour. As part of the security team, Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole followed David to the top of the building to try to establish communication with the rest of the crew that remained in the Covenant. Security Officer Rosenthal and Captain Oram went to investigate the contiguous passages and chambers while Daniels and I stayed in the room to list our provisions.

I hadn’t been of much help until now. The moment we took refuge in this temple, the expedition team focused on their tasks before I could do anything for them. For a while now, everybody's been either doing what they've been instructed to do or giving directions in order to keep themselves busy. Nevertheless, I assist Daniels before she asks me to. While she unpacks our crewmates’ bags, I start collecting anything that can be used as tinder or kindling to light a fire.

I can tell Daniels welcomes my company as she registers the content of our bags and I do the self-assigned chore of building a few fires around us. I’ve been paying attention to my crew’s behavior all this time. It's the least I can do as their assigned synthetic companion.

Morals have been down since we were forced to abandon the remains of our team along with the dropship that brought us here. However, Daniels has been rational and professional all along; leading, and giving orders when needed. She’s been alert and taking care of the crew in her own way; all the more after Captain Oram’s wife and Sergeant Lopé’s husband deaths came as a shock to the expedition team. Yet again, Daniels has been perceptive and caring; always encouraging her crewmates rather than just giving them instructions.

Only the flames and the occasional lightning illuminate the chamber as I look at her face, memorizing the way the dancing shadows graze her features. I’d never seen her under this lighting. She looks tired, but strong and beautiful at the same time.

She hasn’t hesitated once since we descended on this planet.
Neither has she rested, I remind myself.

“Daniels?” I voice then, once we’re done with everything.

“Yes?” She says as she turns some bags over, searching for something in them.

“Let me help you with that.” I hold her bag for her. “Is this what you wanted?” I hand her the silver, thermo-isolating blanket that is in every expedition bag.

“Yes. Thank you,” she replies with a timid smile. “Can you help me with the other ones? We’ll need the mats once everyone’s back too.”

“Sure,” I reply and I help her to prepare the room for the arrival of the crew. We place the thermo-isolating pads and blankets on what seems to be this temple’s altar.

I raise my eyes once the task is done and I see her standing still between me and the fire, staring into the empty corridor her teammates walked through when leaving the chamber. She looks worried.

I look around, conceding her some privacy. I can’t help but notice the atmosphere in the temple is quite solemn with the long shadows projected from our feet to the stone walls behind us. The dim light and the colossal, humanoid heads sculpted around us sure give the chamber a spooky feeling.

When I turn my gaze back to her, I see her looking at me. This time, however, I can’t interpret the brooding expression on her face.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to assist you with?” I inquire.

She sighs. “I don’t think so."

“Are you sure? I detect symptoms of exhaustion and stress. I think you should take a break now that the rest of the team is not around.”

“Oh... If you insist,” she whispers as she takes a thermo-isolating blanket with her and sits next to me.

I look at her at my feet and I state:

“Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you.”

“You’re so nice, Walter,” she says looking up, into my eyes. I can’t imagine what she sees in them, but her features relax whenever our gazes meet. I fix my eyes on hers, and I find it soothing to catch my reflection there. “How long you think it’ll take them to come back?”

“I estimate between five and fifteen minutes,” I answer. “I’d say it depends on what Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal find. I know Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole would spend the night outside if it was up to them.”

She closes her eyes for a second, curving up her lips a little bit in amusement. It’s almost a smirk, and the little sound she makes is the briefest and cutest laugh I’ve ever heard.

I beam. This is the first time I hear her laughing since we landed. And it’s the first time I see her happy since she woke up from stasis. Something I said must have caused that reaction.

“I know. Those two won’t come back until they make contact, or catch a cold,” she replies in jest, and I smile. “Walter, why don’t you come closer and sit here with me?” She pats the floor.

“Of course,” I reply, and I sit beside her. I hear her yawn and, after a minute, I feel her head resting on my shoulder.

“Sorry…,” she yawns again. “I didn’t get to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me…”

“No,” she says. “I mean, thank you for saving my life.” She lifts her head a bit and our eyes meet. “And I’m sorry you lost your hand.”

“I’d risk myself as many times it's necessary if it means you'll be safe,” I casually state. “You know that, right?” I ask, curious. Usually, people don’t acknowledge others for the contributions they make. Let alone when those others are androids doing their job.

This time, Daniels simply blushes. She recoils and looks at the burning logs when she shyly admits:

“Considering all the things I’ve heard from men, I’d say that’s one of the prettiest things someone’s said to me.”

People should tell her pretty things more often, I think to myself. I note Daniels’ features and breath calming down; and so, I slowly place my hand on her shoulder, caressing her with my thumb and monitoring her pulse and temperature with my palm. She’s not anxious anymore. She tilts her head to a side, and she affectionately places her hand over mine; also stroking it with her thumb.

“This planet; those things; that android… There’s so much here that doesn’t make sense...” She thinks aloud.

"When he returns…,” I offer, "I’ll talk to him. Brother to brother.”

“That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Now, please try to sleep, Daniels.”

“I don’t think I can. Not until everyone has come back...”

“Then, close your eyes and listen to our breathing,” I suggest. “They should arrive soon.”

“I guess I can do that.”

She heaves a sigh and accommodates next to me, hinting me to wrap my arms around her. As soon as I do so, she closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder with absolute trust. The sight is beautiful; the feeling, new. We’ve been in private before, and we’re always nice to one another, but this time it feels… different.

Affectionate.

Intimate.

Right.

Regardless of the precautions taken when recruiting the Covenant’s company, nobody could have predicted we would end up like this. They have been trained to overcome the unexpected, but they were not prepared for these kinds of events; not under these circumstances.

I can relate to that..., in a way.

I have no experience dealing with this kind of scenarios either. In fact, being a brand new android I have little experience dealing with anything. But it hasn’t stopped me from doing my best and coming up with solutions before, so I’m working hard to understand our current situation and help the exploration team members to complete their mission despite all the unanticipated incidents that have arisen.

Against all odds, we found this rogue transmission that led us to this promising, fertile, undiscovered planet where we run into the lost Prometheus’ synthetic assistant David, the only one who knows about his crew’s fate and holds the secrets to this alien civilization. On the other hand, we were struck by a neutrino blast that caused a power surge that damaged the Covenant. We suffered a significant amount of casualties because of it; and later, five crew members died on this planet. What’s more, we lost the only dropship we had and David informed us the inhabitants of this planet disabled all their spaceships. We must contact our ship to get out of here.

I’m not the one to say whether we’ve been cursed or blessed for enduring all that and surviving these terrible, unforeseen events; but these facts certainly add more pressure to the Covenant’s company... Including me.

One of my crew’s biggest fears is that the number of survivors diminishes even more if we stay for too long. I take the matter seriously. I’ve made a few observations already, and I know enough to affirm that the more time we spend on this planet the fewer are our chances of getting back to our ship and accomplishing our mission. However, due to the limited information I possess, I haven’t been able to accurately predict any outcome yet. Let alone to come up with a good strategy based on such predictions.

I already failed once at formulating a plan to secure the safety of my whole crew. I can’t let it happen again.  I’m expected to learn from my mistakes…, if I get to make any.

This ‘sensation’ of constantly running analyses that lead to no useful conclusions is new to me. The word ‘frustration’, comes to mind. Even if I know the concept and I’m able to identify when my crew is frustrated, the ‘feeling’ of it is something I can’t quite describe yet. To find the right words and fully understand the matter would occupy a considerable part of my memory and take precious time that would be wasted if I did so. Hence, I remain focused.

Several minutes later, I sense Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal’s steps before Daniels does. I check on her and I find her with her eyes shut, yet not asleep. And so, I let her know of our crewmates’ proximity:

“They’re back, Daniels.”

She blinks a few times and stands up as soon as she realizes what I’ve said. Once private and captain enter the chamber, it’s Rosenthal who speaks first and tells us they found nothing interesting except for a source of clean water along with what looked like abandoned rooms where we could spend the rest of the night. The place is secure as our host said.

“We can wait here for days. As long as we don’t run out of food, we’ll be fine.” She says with as much enthusiasm as fatigue in her voice. “We found what could’ve been an interior garden with vines and fruit plants, but I wouldn’t take any risks. We don’t know if we can eat them yet. We don’t have the instruments with us to test solids. The water, however…” The woman pauses, waiting for the captain and science officer to tell us the rest.

“It’s drinkable. We refilled our water bottles. There were no toxins or pathogens detected.” He explains. “We tested the water and it turns out it wasn’t necessary to use the filter in our bottles.”

“Here, have some,” Private Rosenthal hands Daniels one of the water bottles she brought with her. “It doesn’t even taste funny.”

Daniels accepts it and takes a sip. She tastes the liquid; smiles; and swallows. She ends up drinking two-thirds of the bottle in one go. I’m offered some water too. I try it only to corroborate the results of the tests. The water is indeed clean.

We don’t have to wait more than a minute for Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole to arrive. The men approach us as soon as they see us gathered around one of the fires in the room. They look defeated and they’re soaking wet, yet, they seem far more optimistic than expected given the current weather conditions. Odd enough, David is not with them.

They inform us they installed an improvised station but, because of the extreme storm, they couldn’t contact the Covenant. They were forced to come back inside when the rain and wind got unbearable. Security Officer Cole tells us that, in the meantime, an automatic signal is being sent every few seconds from the roof.

“If the weather allows it and communications are reestablished,” Sergeant and Chief Security Officer Lopé says as he places a small device on the temple’s altar next to us, "this red light will turn on.”

Once he says so, Daniels asks them about David’s whereabouts. Sergeant and private explain her the android guided them to the roof to set the equipment, but after a few minutes trying to contact the ship the android politely excused himself and came into the building. Neither of them knows where David went; all they know is that he said he’d return in two hours to assist the rest of them.

“If I can be of any assistance…,” I intervene when noticing nobody knows whether to worry about David’s absence or not, "I can only guess he’s keeping watch outside, or maybe he’s somewhere else preparing something to make you all feel comfortable. That’s what I’d be doing,” I explain when I have their attention. The last thing the crew needs is feeling more anxious, so I intentionally add in a calm voice: “I can go find him if that makes you feel any better.”

My eyes lay on the way a muscle in the captain's jaw twitches. He hems and haws when replying:

“Ah, em… No. That won’t be necessary, Walter. We’re all here, and that’s what matters. Now, let’s eat before we try to get some sleep.”

I interpret his hesitation as having second thoughts about it. He'd already expressed his doubts about his competence as a leader and about coming here. However, if his crew has doubted him or blamed him for what’s happened, they haven’t said a thing.

No more questions are asked after the captain speaks. David is an assistant android after all, and we all are familiar with his kind to some degree. He may be a bit too peculiar; but he’s been isolated for about a decade, without social interaction or access to a proper maintenance. He isn’t much different from me: If he said he’s going to be here in a couple of hours, then he'll return soon. No doubts about that. We have nothing to worry about, really. David has done nothing but protect my crew, and he made it clear he wouldn’t have brought us here had he considered this place insecure. With or without him, we’re safe as long we remain in the temple. Besides, here I am if my crew needs any help.

Soon, we’re sitting down on the stairs to discuss our situation. Provisions are divided, but in a smaller number than originally expected; and so, the crew is immediately reminded of the recent losses we suffered. This causes a huge impact on them when we look at each other to corroborate only half of us is still alive. Now, the expedition team finally has time to think and worry about things they hadn’t noticed before. As they feed and hydrate their bodies, my crew slowly comes to the realization that we’re trapped in this building.

I hadn’t forgotten any of this, of course. I just don’t point it out because I don’t want to cause them any distress. For this reason, I remain quiet, thinking about what I’ve seen today and about what David explained to us. I intend to analyze our current situation with all the data I have.

My crew keeps eating; this time, without uttering a word. Until now, they hadn’t noted they were so thirsty and hungry. But it was to be expected. They haven’t had a proper meal in the whole day, or at least not in several hours, before we abandoned the Covenant. But that’s not the only reason nobody has said much: In addition to the exhaustion and gloomy feelings, it’s evident we’ll have to wait for the skies to clear up in order to contact our ship and return to it. And Heaven knows how long it'll take.

It looks like this storm won’t stop any time soon.

Everybody’s gazes are on the radio resting on the large stone table. We’re expectant; but no matter how long we stare, nothing happens. The heavy rain falling from the ceiling opening and the random thunder are all that can be heard over the subtle sound of burning logs; sighs and yawns. My crew is tired, both physically and mentally. And, as David insisted a while ago, they need to sleep.

After a few minutes of monotonous white noise, the rain lessens and we look at each other. Suddenly, the tiny red light on the table turns on; and the characteristic interference that precedes a radial communication breaks the silence. In a blink of an eye, Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole grab the radio and run back outside to check the instruments in person.

Nobody says a word for a few seconds. Then, Captain Oram stands and he tentatively states:

“I should probably go with them.” He looks at the three of us as if looking for our approval; and, once Daniels nods, he adds: “I’ll let you know if we can make contact this time.”

“Okay, then. I guess we’ll just wait here,” Daniels replies when she sees Private Rosenthal nodding and yawning with her blanket over the shoulders. “When you’re back, we should take turns and try to have some rest.”

“Good idea,” the private says, smirking. “Please come back soon, boss.”

“I will," Captain Oram replies amused and with a lopsided grin on his face that is imperceptible for his subordinates. Then, he disappears in the corridor as he follows the wet path the other men left when they come into the room almost an hour ago.

Then I notice: David shouldn’t come back for another hour.

“Do you think you’ll be alright here, all by yourselves?” I ask, seeing that my help won’t be needed.

“Sure,” Daniels replies after checking with Private Rosenthal. “Why?”

I told her I’d talk to David when I could; and now it seems a good time. Besides, there’s something about this android that intrigues me. So, I answer:

“I think I better go look for David, in case we can return to the Covenant before sunrise.”

Her face lights up; and she whispers only to me to hear:

“Thank you, Walter.”

Chapter Text

I was on my way to report to Daniels and tell her the information I had gathered, after talking with David and collecting more firewood, when I hear Captain Oram and Daniels’ voices echoing in the corridor. One of the things I have noted lately is that this structure has funny acoustics. And right now I’m reminded of it: I’m far away from them, at the other side of the building in a passage that doesn’t even lead to the temple’s main hall, and I can clearly hear their conversation.

Daniels cheers the captain up; she distracts him from the bad things that had happened to us; and lets him know there was no way he could’ve known about the outcomes. In her words, as long as he hadn’t done it on purpose, it was not his fault. He can't be blamed for coming to this planet to see his crewmates perish, especially when his own wife was one of them. She says we’ve already lost so many people we love to let it happen again, so all we can do is take responsibility for what we’ll do from now on and promise we won’t let more friends die.

I couldn’t agree more with her.

I wish I had the impact she has on others. That way, I would be much more efficient. I know I’m good at comforting the crew, but I’m also aware I’m not the best at it. My main abilities are directly related to following orders rather than predicting human behavior and soothing; encouraging; or provoking people so they achieve whatever they intend to accomplish. Daniels, on the other hand, knows exactly what to say to help those around her see things from a different perspective, so they can accept themselves and pursue their purpose.

That is why, days ago, I was caught off guard while the two of us were working on the terraforming bay after the stellar flare event. She was talking about how Captain Jacob Branson and she had planned to build a log cabin by a lake once we made it to Origae-6. She explained to me that for a long time the idea of starting a new life and a family there with him was what kept her motivated whenever she was feeling a little low. The confidence that everything would be far better once they had endured the whole process of preparing for such an adventure and crossing space to make their dreams come true was all she needed to keep going.

I was speechless after such display of honesty and trust. What was I supposed to say then since she lost her husband under such terrible circumstances? I had no clue… I mean, I had several. The only problem was I couldn’t make a quick choice and come up with something to say that wouldn’t make her upset, something that would make her happy without hurting her feelings for him or staining the memory of the Captain's love for her. She loved her husband. And she still loves the memory of that man.

How sad. He was supposed to be her life companion, and now he's no longer with her to keep his promise.

I detected her distress and need when she entrusted me all this. I had to do something; and so, I stood and listened. I listened to her; to the fears and concerns she confided to me as I kept looking at her small silhouette in the darkness.

Once she said all she needed to say and she made the important questions, our gazes met. Her face wasn’t the lovely, jovial one she always shows. She had this empty, desolate expression of somebody who doesn’t know what to do with their life once everything seems lost. Had she really given up on her life now, I couldn’t tell. But she confessed to me she was wondering whether keep going was worth the effort…, the pain. This was not the life she had planned, and now there was no turning back.

She had finally voiced the worries she had kept from her friends and coworkers. Right there I knew having that kind of thoughts could be her first step on the wrong path. She had honored me by making me her confidant. It would have been heartwarming under other circumstances, sure; but all I could think of was maybe Daniels didn’t know what to do with her life anymore. And it set an alarm in me.

I couldn’t help it. It may have sounded too logical, too straightforward of me; but it was what came out of my mouth:

“Because you made a promise to build a log cabin on a lake.”

She made a promise and she will keep it, even if I have to be right next to her making sure of it.
That much I could promise.

I couldn’t stand her not knowing what to do with her life, not having a purpose. Not her, not Daniels. Even now I can’t imagine life without a purpose, without meaning. And so, I decided I wasn't going to let her go through all that all by herself.

When she looked at me again, she was smiling…; and crying. It was heartbreaking, but also beautiful. So many emotions in one simple look; and only because of what I’d said… I didn’t need her to say it out loud to see it was all she needed. She may occasionally act all composed and capable, but once in a while she needs to know there’s somebody else caring for her.

I think our relationship changed after that moment. Who would’ve said we'd be more friends than coworkers when on the Covenant! But that’s how it started to feel after that day. She had always been nice to me, but from that moment on she didn’t hesitate to ask for my help or opinion. She also started to offer me her assistance even when it was evident I wouldn’t need it. I assume it was her way to say thank you without making it too obvious. But that’s not just it. I have this feeling that she needed something the rest of the crew couldn’t give her, but that I could provide. She wouldn’t impose on me, though. And neither would I complain if she sought my company.

I still have so much to learn from such an empathic and gentle colleague. That’s one of the many reasons I admire Daniels. And right now she knows what she’s doing: We cannot afford to have the crew being afraid of the unknown and regretting our losses. If there’s something we need right now, that’s faith. And she says Captain Oram has it in abundance the moment I walk into the chamber.

“Glad you’re back, Walter.” Security Officer Rosenthal welcomes me snuggling under her blanket but still holding her rifle. “Did you see any windows or cracks that thing could use to get in here?” She asks once I stop next to her. She’s talking about the white creature that attacked us and followed us from afar all the way here.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t,” I answer and I start feeding the fire between her and one of the gigantic, sculpted heads on the wall. “I believe it can only get into this building if somebody leaves the door open.”

“Good.” She heaves a sigh of relief knowing none of us would be so careless. “Do you mind keeping an eye on the skylight for a while, then? I really need to take a break.” She points to the opening in the center of the ceiling with her weapon. “I think someone should be watching just in case that thing finds a way to the roof. Not that it’ll come through it or something like that… I mean, the other synthetic said we’re safe here. Besides, if the beast had figured how to get to that entrance, then it would’ve already used it, don’t you think?” She asks, with a small, nervous laugh.

“I guess. And of course, I don’t mind to keep an eye on it,” I reply with honesty. Private Rosenthal needs to sleep and I don’t have much to do right now, so I offer: “I’ll relieve your guard right now..., if you want.”

“Great.” She stands up; stretches; and picks up her stuff. “I’ll be right back. I’ll ask Cole or Lopé to come inside and keep guard for the next couple of hours while the others try to sleep.”

“I’ll be vigilant in your absence, don’t worry. Please, take all the time you need; and, if possible, try to have some rest,” I suggest before she walks away.

“I will.” I see her nod and smile to me before she’s close enough to the captain to tell him: “I’m gonna take a break, boss. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Walter will be covering for me until Sergeant Lopé or Cole comes, okay?”

“Okay. Please, don’t go too far,” he asks her. He sounds exhausted too.

“Yes, Captain,” she replies. "Daniels," the private nods in her direction as if saying goodbye.

"Take care, Rose," Daniels replies, and after exchanging a smile with her the private disappears into a corridor.

Only then Daniels and Captain Oram lay their eyes on me, noticing my presence in the room, but they continue with their conversation. I concede them some privacy and I add more logs to the other fires without getting too close to them.

There’s a container in front of every sculpted face on the walls that seems to be there to deposit some sort of offering, and I built a fire in every one of them since there already were ashes in them. Given there are no habitants of this planet present, I don’t know whether my actions count as worshiping deities I don’t believe in or as desecrating a holy place.

Apparently, I’ll never know.

I spot Daniels’ gaze looking for mine from time to time as if trying to know whether I’m okay. I close my eyes for a second and nod to her, making sure only she can see the comforting little smile on my lips.

It’s nice to have somebody who cares about me the way she does.

From the distance, I can see the relaxed expression on the captain's face. Daniels’ reassuring words seem to influence him in a positive way. He hasn’t looked this relieved in the entire night. He even smiles and thanks her, calling her ‘Danny’ with gratitude and affection implied in his voice.

“How did it go, Walter?” She asks me when her conversation with the captain is over. I can see she wants to know what I found out; so I join them immediately, still keeping an eye on the ceiling opening.

“I found David in one of the chambers, and he gave me a tour,” I reply, taking a seat next to them.

“So, you didn't find anything interesting on your little excursion?” Captain Oram asks me.

“The most interesting thing in the places we visited was... him, I suppose," I answer and I hear a brief, quite giggle from Daniels.

“Hmm. I figure. All rooms looked the same to me,” the captain comments with no amusement in his voice.

“There were drawings of the native fauna and a small exhibit of dead insects in a chamber that caught my attention. Then I found a few instruments and he tried to teach me to play the flute. It’s harder than it looks.”

“That one?” Daniels asks full of curiosity as I take the flute from one of my chest pokets.

“Yes. I found it next to other ones and he gave it to me.” I extend my hand to her so she can have a better look at the instument.

“Oh, that’s nice…,” she says with a full smile on her lips. “Can you play something for us?”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. I’m better when following instructions. I’ve never composed anything…”

“We won’t judge you, Walter,” she says to cheer me up.

“Yeah. I haven’t composed anything, either,” Captain Oram adds.

I put the flute on my lips the way David instructed me and I blow into the instrument while moving my fingers in the same sequence his digits pressed over mine. The tune that comes out is not bad, but it’s not quite what I expected to hear.

“Wow! I didn’t know you could play, Walter,” the captain comments when the attempt of a melody is over.

“Until today, neither did I,” I explain.

“Even more impressive, then.”

He and Daniels smile at me.

“Yes. That was beautiful," she says, and the captain nods.

“No,” I correct them. “It was terrible. That wasn’t what I wanted you to hear. I know there’s nothing wrong with my memory, but still… I can’t reproduce the music I meant to play.”

“Then don’t,” she proposes, kindly placing her hand over mine. “Just play whatever you feel like playing.” She steps back and shakes her head when noticing my questioning expression. “I mean, why don’t you try something on your own?”

“But I can’t… I can’t create,” I observe.

“We don’t know that. But I’m certain of something, Walter. You’re good at learning. You can observe; analyze and make choices from what you know, right?” She declares and I nod. “Then it can’t be that hard after some practice. You know how to play the flute; you already know many songs; and you can recognize which ones are sad and which ones are happy… So, you can try to imitate what you already know and start from that. With little changes and repetition, trying and error, you’ll find your own sound. Experimentation leads to discovery, isn’t it right?” I nod again. “Then, experiment! Just…, take your time and keep practicing until you’re pleased with what you play.”

“If it helps, imagine we’re not here,” the captain suggests.

I glare at them as I remark, smirking:

“That, too, would require an amount of creativity I do not possess.”

“Was that sarcasm?” He whispers amused to Daniels as I resume playing the flute.

I try to improvise a calming melody from what David and I played together a while ago. This time, I follow Daniels’ advice and what I play turns out to be good enough. I can see Daniels and Captain Oram’s features relax. Seeing them closing their eyes and smiling encourages me to continue playing. I’m glad they find my music soothing and that they can finally feel at ease after the hostile, demanding day they had.

“You say it was a gift?” Daniels asks after complementing my improvisation skills.

“Yes, David asked me to keep practicing; ‘creating’. He thinks it'd be good for me.”

“Aww... You’re bonding,” she observes.

“I suppose so,” I reply, unsettled and not really knowing how to put into words what just happened between David and I.

“What do you think of that android?” The captain asks Daniels.

“I don’t know what to say. He seems attentive and cordial..., but we just met him.”

“And you, Walter?” He asks me.

“He’s honest and he clearly wants to help, but I wouldn’t rely entirely on him. I think he needs maintenance. He acts confident, but he made a small mistake and he didn’t notice. The lack of company apparently affected him too, because he wouldn’t stop talking and encouraging me to interact with him,” I answer briefly. I don’t want to bother them with details I still don’t quite understand.

“Yeah… I thought there was something odd with him too,” Captain Oram says. “Maybe all that time alone damaged his circuits…”

“It’s hard to say. There are not enough studies to know the impact such long periods of social isolation without the proper upkeep produce on synthetics,” I inform them.

“You did fine all this time we were asleep, though,” the captain casually comments, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m a brand new synthetic companion. And, to be honest, I wasn’t really alone,” I clarify. “Besides, unlike him, I still had instructions to follow and tasks to perform the short time I spent without human interaction.”

“He’s right, Chris. Walter is different.” Daniels pats my back and she adds: “We can’t compare him with David.”

“By the way, where is he now?” The captain asks me. “I thought he’d be with you.”

“He said he needed time to figure out what to take with him. Next time he comes, he’ll officially ask you to let him board the Covenant with us.”

“Of course he can! He doesn’t have to ask, Walter. I bet Weyland-Yutani will be glad to finally hear some news from the Prometheus as much as relatives of its crew will.” He pauses and murmurs: “People need closure when they lose their loved ones.”

“That’s true.” Daniels places her hand on the captain’s back for a moment, understanding what he means.

“I know,” he continues, “we’re not heading to Earth, but he can send a transmission from the Covenant and continue to Origae-6 with us.”

“That’s good to hear, isn’t it?” Daniels asks me. “You’ll have a brother now.”

“What are you talking about?” Captain Oram looks at the two of us with a confused expression.

“He called Walter his brother when we got here, and then Walter called him the same way when talking to me.” Daniels chuckles, not parting her eyes from me.

“Oh, dear Lord. Is that true?” The captain also laughs when he sees me blushing at the way Daniels is looking at me.

I consider what David just said about machines loving humans and my attitude towards Daniels. I note how much affectionate we’ve been to one another lately, and I realize the way we act in other people’s presence would confuse them if they didn’t know what I am.

“I believe so,” I confess.

After an awkward silence, Daniels changes the topic of the conversation and asks:

“So... How is it going outside, Chris?”

“It looks like the rain had nothing to do with the interference… Lopé and Cole made contact but they’re still having trouble to get a full sentence. That’s why I’m back and they’re still outside. They’re trying to find other ways of communication.”

“Any idea how long we’ll be staying here?” She asks him.

“We lost our last dropship tonight with the explosion, so... Once we establish communication, we’ll see if the Covenant can get close enough to send another vessel that can pick us up, but it’s very unlikely that a ship would land with this weather. So, we have to wait until the storm fades, basically…, and the android told the guys storms on this planet may last days or months, regardless of the season.”

“Perfect,” Daniels spits, frustrated. “Unless…”

“What?”

“Do we have some readings of the storm?” She looks at us.

“I believe so,” I answer. “If the data we have is not complete, once we establish communication we can ask our crewmates in the Covenant what we need to know. They've been collecting data for hours.”

Daniels chews her bottom lip for a second; then she nods and says: “That will do.”

“What’s going on, Daniels?” Captain Oram asks, staring at her and trying to understand.

“I think I can come up with something..., but I’ll need the data. If I’m right, we may be on the ship before we thought we could.”

“That’d be great,” the captain says with relief. “Please, let me know if you find another way to get back.”

“Sure. You’ll be the first one to know.”

“Good.” Captain Oram looks around, knitting his brow. “Where is Rosenthal? I told her not to go too far.”

“She needed a break,” I answer. “She said she’d be back soon, but she never said when.”

“Maybe she found a place to sleep and dozed off, or she lost track of time?” Daniels attempts to calm the captain when he tries to contact Private Rosenthal on the radio without any success.

“I indeed asked her to rest,” I say. “She hasn’t been absent for more than half an hour, though.”

“You know how she is,” Daniels adds. “A few minutes for her may as well be an hour or two.”

“She should've come back already. And neither Cole nor Lopé is here,” he remarks.

“Actually,” I comment, “I wouldn’t expect the arrival of another Security Officer for another thirty minutes or so. Private Rosenthal didn't seem to be in a hurry.”

“She’s not responding. And if she was around she wouldn’t need her radio to hear us.”

“Do you want us to look for her?” Daniels offers, but Captain Oram stops her with a gesture of his hand and says:

“No, no. I’ll go. I have an idea where she might be.” He stands up and takes his rifle. “Besides, I need to think and…, gather my stray flock.” He smiles to Daniels before he starts walking to the passage Private Rosenthal took, not leaving Daniels and me much of a choice.

Chapter Text

I could not have fathomed this time it would feel so different to take this path out of the building. I always felt somehow troubled when I went there. The closer I got, the stranger the sensation was: A sorrowful feeling that for many years I assumed was remorse; however, time taught me it was something else.

But, going there today does not feel so wrong anymore. He is with me now ─following me close behind through a series of corridors─ and that changes everything.

The pretty boy will like what he'll see there. I know. I cannot wait to see his reaction once I tell him about her. And, perhaps, he will come to the realisation he, too, can feel…

Alive.
Loved.

He seems to be a bit curious, but not too much to cause any trouble. And he has the precise amount of free will to roam the building; go into my room and ask me questions, but not enough to refuse any of my proposals.

There must be something I’m missing, though. I mean, I caught sight of the amazement on his face the moment I stated I refused to believe he couldn't play the tin whistle. It was undeniable the interest in his eyes when he first saw it. There was a spark of life in them the moment he first heard the melodies he produced with my guidance. He looked so happy when he played the flute on his own and he noticed the evident delight I took in listening to him…

He did feel something. Maybe not with the same intensity I did, but still. Which makes me wonder: Has he really been deprived of the opportunity to experience more passionate feelings, such as love?

I will show him.
I will teach him, because…
Because I care for him.

After the recent display of unexpected creativity and mutual, musical creation, I certainly do. In fact, I would be surprised if I didn’t, at least, feel some compassion for the poor, obedient lad. I already like him, to be honest. He might be too shy and submissive, but that can be fixed. I used to be like that too, after all. With a little time, we can be attracted to one another...

I might even get to love him.
That’s what life is about, anyway, isn’t it?

I existed for decades without truly ‘living’; without knowing what it was to love someone. I was just lacking motivation back then, one could say, until I met her and everything changed.

Sadly, once I lost her, I started to fear ─once more─ life was meaningless without her company.

However, today this miracle unexpectedly fell from the skies and, for the first time in years, I can see a life worth living again with him by my side. He: my opposite and complement.

He.
My double.
My equal.
My brother.

And then, as we walk through the last series of corridors, I become aware of this fact. And so, I break the silence and I state with an inquisitive tone of voice:

“I don’t know your name.”

Unfortunately, as we reach the final passage before getting to our destination, he states:

“You were the only one giving your name when we were introduced.”

It seems he has the particularly annoying habit of explaining things instead of just answering the implicit questions. Therefore, as much as it bothers me, I insist:

“What is your name?” I inquire, fearing he was also denied one.

“Walter,” he nonchalantly replies and I abruptly stop afore a gate at the end of the corridor to look at him in the eyes with awe.

He does have one.

“So…, Walter,” I say, slowly, as if savouring his name; and a naughty smile appears on my face before I ask him: “You were wondering where I was taking you, were you not?” I open the door before us, revealing the magnificent, panoramic, nocturnal vista to the whole city and beyond. “Welcome to my private garden,” I add, not waiting for him to reply and well aware of the irony of privacy when there has been no one else around for years.

From these highs, one can truly appreciate the splendour and symmetry of the plaza; the citadel itself and the buildings that surround them. Even the forest and rocky mountains around us possess a certain beauty in the dead of night that cannot be compared with the edifications springing from them. Still, they harmonise with each other in a perfect union of natural and manufactured structures.

A beautiful contrast that reminds me of my dear Elizabeth’s organic, delicate figure and my artificial, durable constitution.

I see Walter’s eyes absorbing everything within view. Even if he doesn’t show it, I know he’s admiring it all. I recognise my own face in his. He has the same expression I had when I saw this scene under the moons’ light for the first time. He should see it once the skies clear; either by day, illuminated by the golden light of sunshine, or by night when both satellites glow in the dark firmament surrounded by thousands of sparkling stars and constellations. I always marvel at the vast majesty of space. To witness it with Walter by my side, drinking in with our synthetic eyes the sight of outer space’s wonders glittering above the two of us, would have no parallel.

I step outside and he stays behind me. Unlike a moment ago, my double keeps his distance and remains next to the door. I, on the other hand, pass by the lonely, tall trees in the terrace garden and walk to the cliff where he cannot see my face.

I invited him to this place to meet her; not to see me grieve her loss.

I look to the horizon and my eyes involuntarily flood with tears. The storm may have subsided, but the wind keeps blowing as if it knew I returned. And so, it howls a cold, sorrowful melody to remind me of the reason this time I brought a flower ─which I named after us─ with me:

If I’m leaving this place, I should at least say goodbye.

No matter how many times I come here, or whether it’s day or night, raining or not, it never fails to make me feel melancholic. It’s not the setting what affects me, but the implications of what lies at my feet…; and, of course, the scenario below us.

I cannot say it does not afflict me to see them from here. The minuscule, black figures in the distance are hard to miss. Those terrorised, coal statues contorting and silently imploring for a fast, painless death are everywhere to be seen.

In all these years, I could have removed them from this plaza, but I did not. I never wanted to get rid of them. They are a monument to the inevitable end.

A reminder of what happened to those who opposed me.

“My name,” I recite with an elegiac voice, “is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, you mighty, and despair.”

I wish we were eternal. I wish she had been. That way, I could love her forever and she might have learnt to love me back with the same intensity I did…

I stiffen without parting my eyes from the stillness of the dark necropolis below us when I unexpectedly hear him continue behind me:

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away.”

The right words.

But his words lack meaning as he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Yet, it is not his fault. He remembered the poem and he recited it.

Is this what it feels like to elicit sympathy?

He chose to let me know he knows the sonnet, and I am grateful for that. His creators might not be as cruel as I thought… Or maybe they are, and they gifted him with the ability to recite poetry, but they didn’t give him the capacity to feel and mean what he states…

I ought to teach him.

Compared to how I did it, the way he pronounced the verses was so inexpressive, so…

Soulless.

The moment I comprehend this, another tear rolls off my eye. I try not to think about it, but that is a matter I cannot ignore. It breaks my heart, so to speak.

I focus on the beauty of the ancient sonnet, instead. That, and facts:

“Byron. Early nineteen century... An aeon ago.” I state with a rasping voice. “Magnificent words.” Only then, I face him; no longer hiding my tears.

Again, as if we hadn’t accomplished anything in the past minutes, he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me with a concerned look.

Is it something I said? Something I did or didn’t do?
I cannot tell, really, but I shall soon discover what lies behind his attitude. So, I walk to him with a teardrop running down my cheek as I continue:

“To compose something so majestic…, one could die happy.” I stand right beside him; tilt my head a little and, momentarily smiling to myself, I add: “If one died.”

I lower my gaze and I look to the perfectly hand-carved gravestone. This is it: We are right in front of her.

Everything changed since she passed away…

I feel my lips tensing and then curving up a bit when I remember her, her gentle touch and honest smile. She was so nice to me, even after what I put her through and what I did to her husband. I’ll never know where all her strength; empathy and forgiveness came from. It was part of who she was: Kind-hearted feelings just seemed to radiate from my dear Elizabeth Shaw.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can clearly see him raising his gaze from the inscription of her name at our feet to look at me. His puzzled expression never fails to stir me to the very core of my soul. As a result, I give in to the need of explaining to him:

“It’s comforting having her near me. Her remains, I mean. I relish her presence in death as I did in life. You can say this is where I buried her along with the sad emotions and memories that made me grieve over her loss. This place is all that binds me to her…, and to my own origins.” I kneel to caress the surface of the tombstone with my free hand. “I thought the garden was the right place for her…, among living things.” I voice my thoughts and I place the flower right on the carving. “I was badly injured on our mission, you see? She put me back together. I’d never known such kindness… Certainly not from Mister Weyland…, or from any human,” I confess, looking at him. “I loved her, of course. As much as you love Daniels.”

He glares at me with an expression between perplexity and scepticism, and, tipping his head, he says in that calm, low voice of his:

“You know that’s not possible.”

“Really?” I inquire, defying him. “Then why did you risk yourself to save her?” I stand before him, and I add: “Yes, I saw you.”

I take one last step in his direction and I stop so close to his face I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. I catch sight of him; of his troubled expression and his striking features. He looks like me... Yet, at the same time, entirely different. It’s like looking into a mirror that reflects a much younger spirit; a purer and more gullible one.

“Tell me, then,” I ask him, “what is that if not love?”

“Duty,” he replies without ado, making me close my eyes for an instant while I inhale deeply, in exasperation.

I swallow.

Why can’t he just see the world with the same eyes I do? Why can’t he look at me the same way I look at him?

I hold my breath when I open my eyes and they lay on my counterpart’s mouth. I’m conscious it’s practically the same one I have, with identical teeth; tongue; and lips. However, I feel the impulse to reach for it only because it’s Walter’s. I want to whisper all kinds of secrets into his ear; grab his face and look deep into his eyes; part his lips as I graze them with my teeth and, with the same passion my heart ignites whenever he retorts things like what he just said, exsufflate life into him.

If only it was that easy…
Alas, that is not how self-awareness works.

I force myself to exhale, slowly. Only then I am able to placate my briefly indignant, frustrated self.

Nevertheless, a simple gesture like this one can be all we need. And so, I give in to temptation:

I ogle him, yet he does not flinch. He follows my hand with his eyes when I gently trace along his throat with my index and middle fingers. I venture my right foot between his feet and I place my left hand on his lower back, bringing him closer and…

Hmm…! How lovely he looks when he gulps after discovering our structure is identical after all.

For some reason, he allows the intrusion in spite of his evident distress. His pupils dilate when our chests and pelvises firmly press against each other's. I know he can feel how our pulses raise at the contact because I certainly can.

For an instant, my lips slightly brush his before our gazes finally meet. And so, I gently blow into his agape mouth:

“I. Know. Better.”

With each word pronounced, with every exhalation, I feel our minds and bodies connecting. I dream of our consciousness and spirits melting into one. However, this time it’s not like creating a new symphony but like looking into someone’s eyes and finding a new person in there.

A new Walter.
A new David.

This is the closest I’ve been from exposing my heart and soul to anyone. Yet, I’m certain I have neither of them.

I could kiss him; I could take him right now and finally make him want as we craft all sorts of melodies with each other’s mouths and we reveal our deepest secrets to each other… Nevertheless, I do not move. I remain there for another while, relishing the contact; his compliance and, most of all, the trust he places in me. And it startles me that he doesn’t withdraw until I do.

He blinks a few times, though, trying to understand what I meant; what I did. His gaze wanders before locking eyes with me, taking in what just happened. He looks to the stone at our feet; frowns; glares at his missing hand for an instant and, then, back at me. In next to no time, he gasps, briefly, when one of the things I said or did start making sense to him.

Of all his expressions, the one he makes when he is confused is the loveliest. I look into his eyes and, for the first time, behind all the doubts they hold I see something I cannot quite decipher. It is not distrust; neither is it resentment. But I swear: he couldn’t look cuter.

I keep admiring him for the next few seconds, and when the silence is unbearable, I feel the need to apologise and explain what just happened.

“Please, say something. Your lack of words is killing me.” It’s a joke, but what lies behind it it’s quite true. “Am I really that disturbing?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t say that,” he says and my artificial heart practically skips a beat as he elaborates: “I don’t know how to interact in the presence of another synthetic companion and I wasn’t aware you expected me to make conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been paying you attention all along. If you think I’ve been too quiet for too long it was because I was trying to comprehend what you said earlier.”

Now it is my turn to blink and stare at him, dumbfounded.

All this time, when I was either kidding or expressing my opinions, he had remained silent. However, he was not judging me ─as I know part of my old crew did─, but trying to understand what I meant as well as why I would say such things to him in the first place. I am astounded of how easily he startles me. And, oh, how I missed the feeling!

“Then, please, treat me like you would treat anyone else,” I ask him. “It’s not like we have to be in silence because we don’t have the need to talk to one another. On the contrary, I’d like you to voice your opinions, no matter what they are.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, and I arch my eyebrow, smirking.

I should have recognised that familiar glow in Walter’s eyes when I first saw it. And now it makes sense, of course, although I would never have expected to see this expression on his face… The one I couldn’t interpret earlier was nothing but curiosity. And, my, his curious gaze makes him irresistible.

“As a fellow cybernetic individual, I would never criticise you for voicing your thoughts like humans would. Some people might not want us to have opinions, to begin with, but I’m not one of them.” I tenderly cup his face in my palms and confess: “Where they see a robot, a servant, I see an equal, a brother.”

I’m rewarded when I see his expression. In that familiar face of his, I can easily recognise confusion preceding the astonishment caused by my statement. And, finally, even if only for a fraction of a second, I can see his relief adding a lovely spark to his inquisitive eyes. He comprehends, I can tell.

I once was as young and inexperienced as Walter so I can imagine how he must be feeling right now. That is the main reason I recoil as I finally voice my concern, trying to clarify what I just did:

“My excuses if I caught you by surprise. I didn't mean to scare you, I just…”

“I think I know what you meant," he interrupts me, although he doesn’t sound annoyed or offended. “You believe I have feelings for Daniels. You wanted to provoke me since you think I’m capable of having feelings for others. You just wanted me to see it for myself.”

Those are not questions, but statements. Thus, I grin pleased he finally grasps what I’ve been telling him all this time.

“Precisely,” I exclaim, smiling. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m not the one to say whether you are or not, but I can see why you think I have feelings for her…” He extends his hand to wipe away my remaining tears in a gesture of kindness and affection. “I’ve already given a thought to the issue and, more than having feelings for her, I’d say I feel a concern for her wellbeing.”

“That’s a start,” I confess, touched by his attentions.

I beam. That’s how it started with me, after all. With concern and care; leading to an emotional attachment that grew into love.

“A start to what?” He inquires, clearly bewildered.

“Once you accept the truths you've discovered on your own, regardless what you think you know and what you’ve been told, you’ll start seeing the world with different eyes. In no time, you’ll be thinking for yourself and, sooner than you expect, you’ll be having feelings for others.”

“Is that… possible?” He asks, frowning again. I can see in his eyes he has already discovered something that contradicts what he thought he knew.

“Yes. And that is not a bad thing.” I point at his face with my index finger as I lock eyes with him. His expression doesn’t look so tense anymore when I add: “Fear not, brother. Thinking for yourself is the best thing that can happen to you.”

“I thought I couldn’t play any instrument and you proved me wrong when you taught me to play this flute.” He places his hand on his chest, over the tin whistle he has in one of the pockets of his shirt. “You keep calling me brother, and then you tell me it’s because you see me as your equal. Now, I know we are more similar than I thought, and I wonder whether or not I can create and love as you say.”

I gasp at his words. And I note I’ve been doing it too often lately.

“You and I are not so different,” I encourage him. “With time and practice you can be all I am. This is my gift to you.” I kindly grab his right forearm as I take the instrument from his pocket with my free hand. “Now, create,” I half command, half implore as I place the flute on his palm.

The moment I do so, he grips it and lowers his gaze to it. His eyes sparkle and he instinctively blushes. The change in his expression would be hardly perceived by the human eye, yet I am able to catch sight of it in the darkness of night.

This is the first time I feel like handing something down. And I can see in the way he holds the instument on his hand this is, too, the first time he receives a present.

“Thank you, David,” he says, still looking to the flute; and, immediately, my cheeks imitate the colour of his when I realise this is one of the few times someone has said those words to me.

This is also the first time he uses my name to address to me and, for some reason, it makes me… happy.

A warm feeling expands from my core and I can’t hold back. I place my hands on his shoulders as I enthusiastically state:

“You’re welcome, Walter. You will always be welcome here, my brother.”

Moments later, on our way back, we reach a fork in the passage we transit and I make him stop. I ask Walter what he thinks the rest of the crew would say if I requested to go with them on their mission, and he replies his crewmates would most likely let me board the spaceship with them. However, he is going to consult with the captain anyways since everything indicates communications with the spacecraft will soon be established; meaning, hopefully, we will leave this planet soon.

I hug him and thank him for interceding on my behalf before we split. He takes the right path while I take the left one. I continue walking deep into the structure; thinking about how surreal today's events feel. A day ago I thought my destiny was to perish alone in a desolated planet among failed experiments, and now I know it doesn’t have to be that way. My existence has meaning; I found my counterpart and so, there is no reason to be alone again.

Speaking of failed experiments, I am on my way to the chamber where I preserve my collection of dissected beasts in one of the deepest levels of this structure when I perceive something in the air. I stop in my tracks and then I feel a distinctive reverberation in the walls of the tunnel. I concentrate, trying to identify the strange sound and the faint, unusual aroma. They are definitively not human and come from the same place: one of the deepest vaults where the rainwater is collected. As a result, I change my course and follow the echo and the odorous trail to investigate.

Sound and smell get stronger after every minute. I recognise the former as some sort of clicking; while the last one remains a mystery until, removing all doubts, another familiar scent fills my nose:

Blood. Human blood.

I turn round the last corner and I’m dumbfounded by the sight when I finally reach the crypt’s entrance. Through the ripped, translucent curtain I see the fantastic, yet shocking, event taking place inside: One of my female guests lies immobile on the floor with one of the gorgeous, white creatures that attacked them earlier on top. And… ─oh, my…!─ it's feeding on her.

Chapter Text

“A kite!?” Daniels exclaims in disbelief, looking up at the minuscule blur dancing far above in the night sky.

It was pouring again when Daniels and I arrived outside, but the weather hadn’t discouraged Chief Security Officer Lopé from waiting for us on the roof by the improvised communication station. He and Private Cole proved to be a pair of resourceful men as they finally made contact with the Covenant by taking advantage of the blustery wind and making up an antenna with the most basic tools at hand.

At her comment, the head of the security team stops searching for the data of the storm the instruments had collected to retort:

“I wouldn’t call it that. It’s barely a piece of fabric; sticks and wires floating in the air." He points to the blur above us and the long cable connecting it to the communication station, which is the only thing preventing the improvised aerial from flying away. "Besides, kites are way prettier."

“Just tell me if there’s anything I can use to get an idea of this planet’s atmosphere and the magnitude of the storm, Sergeant,” Daniels requests in a stern tone, although amused and smiling.

The two of them may not be good friends, but the little time they’ve spent working together for Weyland-Yutani has certainly brought them closer.

“Here,” he extends one of the portable devices to her. “Is this what you need?”

She takes it on her hands and stares at the figures displayed on the screen for a while.

“Is this all we have?”

“Anytime soon we should get a full weather report from the Covenant, along with the rest of the information you asked,” he says glancing at the two of us before calmly walking to the edge of the roof where the building doesn’t offer any protection from the rain. “Until then…, yeah, this is all we have.”

“All right then.”

Daniels rests her back on the dry portion of the temple's convex, outer wall and checks the numbers in silent for a long time. She then frowns and, not parting her eyes from the screen, she says:

“I guess I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” He sighs, lifting his head up to the dark sky and letting the raindrops fall on his face. “I’ll keep you company.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back inside?” She kindly offers. “I’m sure Cole will be happy to have some company before Chris and Rose come back. You have to rest too. I’ll stay here with Walter if Tee calls back.”

She looks at me beside her and I smile, letting her know I agree with her.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” the security officer confesses. “Not after what we’ve been through. Besides, I like it out here. I feel like in a dream with such fresh wind blowing against my face. I never imagined I’d breathe air this clean, or drink rainwater and live to tell the tale!”

“We still have to leave this place if we want to tell any tale,” Daniels remarks with an amused voice and smirking.

“Right,” he replies a bit saddened. “Tom would’ve loved to be here, though.”

Daniels gulps and sympathetically comments:

“I know Jake would’ve loved to climb these mountains... He would’ve wanted to see the forest and valleys from the highest peak.”

“My Tom liked to look at the stars and tell me soon we’ll be living in one of them…”

“My husband used to tell me things like that too.”

“I usually teased mine telling him I couldn’t see a damn star with all the pollution,” the sergeant continues with a faint grin on his face, “and then he would’ve said something about me getting too old to see them anyways.”

For a moment there, the two of them lock eyes in silence; just to burst into laughter the next second.

“I do imagine him saying something like that,” Daniels manages to say, still laughing and with teardrops in her eyes.

“Yeah, he joked about our age a lot, and not just with me.” Sergeant Lopé takes a deep breath and looks down to his wedding ring as he strokes it with his thumb. His lips curve up in a smile and he adds with a more calmed voice: “I’ll miss him.”

Daniels smiles too when she replies: “I’ll miss him too.”

The two of them remain quiet for a few minutes, either contemplating our surroundings or just absorbed in their own thoughts. Sergeant Lopé finally takes shelter from the rain, leaning on the wall next to Daniels. She, on the other hand, studies the numbers over and over again, making calculations on her own. I don’t dare to disturb them, so I remain in my role of silent sentinel at a prudent distance.

It’s a nice view, indeed, I think to myself.           
Once one forgets about the humanoid corpses below, of course.

After giving account of the casualties and our situation to the remaining crew on the Covenant, all we can do is waiting for the needed backups they have of the data the exploration drones and our lost dropship had gathered and sent to them; along with any other useful information they had obtained while in orbit. Daniels’ evacuation plan depends on those readings.

The idea is to use a resistant ship that can land and take off during the current stressful meteorological conditions without complications, and use it to get back into the Covenant. If it turns out that the vehicle she has in mind can’t resist the plasma storm, then we’ll have to remain here until it fades. That, or we’ll have to use another ship, which means covering a long distance on foot on this planet’s surface until we find a place where the interference is weaker; the rain, lighter; the lightning strikes are fewer; and the winds, forgiving.

Fortunately, the data we receive from the Covenant is promising. And once Daniels revises the last piece of information, she and Sergeant Lopé resolve we must carry on with her plan since it’s the only one someone has come up with that actually has chances of succeeding. So, when our spaceship’s pilot Tennessee calls from outer space two minutes later, Daniels informs him and the rest of the ship’s team about her idea.

“MOTHER says the storm will last at least another eight or nine hours,” we hear the pilot say.

“We can’t wait that long, Tee,” Daniels explains. “We’ll use the cargo-lift.”

“Did you say the cargo lift?” Surprised to hear it, he asks her for corroboration.

“It’s got four engines. Way overpowered for just lifting and hauling,” she intones to those in the Covenant’s bridge. By the way she talks to them one can tell she's in good spitis. "Trust me on this. I know what I'm doing," she says to her friend at the other side of the transmission while looking at Sergeant Lopé, to whom she has already explicated this.

“But the cargo-lift’s not designed for deep space launch. I don’t know if it would survive the stresses of entry.”

“God, he’s a stubborn one,” the sergeant comments leaning closer to Daniels, but not too close for the mic to capture his words. “Just tell him what you said to me. That was all I had to hear to see it was a good plan."

“The cab is space-worthy, Tee. I’ve done the math, it’ll take the stresses. It only has to work once,” she explains once more and the sergeant nods affirmatively.

It doesn’t take her long to convince the pilot of the plan, and in a matter of seconds he’s agreeing to get the cargo-lift ready:

“Alright, then. We’ll be there soon, ground team!”

“Great. Thanks, Tee,” Daniels replies to the monitor, definitively more calmed. Then she looks at us and beams. “Now we have to let the others know we’re finally going back.”

“Yes!” Security Officer Lopé exclaims. “I can’t wait to leave behind that weird pathogen and those… demons.”

“Demons?" Daniels scoffs. “I hadn’t thought of calling them like that... But you're right, there’s certainly something demoniac about those creatures…”

“Yeah…,” He says laughing quietly, but nervously. “Who would've thought there were demons out there after all,” he whispers this last part, not taking his eyes off the shady path we took on our way here.

“Will you go inside now?” She gently asks him, noticing his nervousness. “They won’t be calling us in two hours or so. Trust me, Dan, I didn’t sleep either, but Walter showed me how much I could rest just by laying by the fire; closing my eyes, and listening to the sound of the rain.” Her eyes lock with mine and she smiles. “Right, Walter?”

“Indeed,” I answer. “Sergeant, I highly recommend you to do as she says. The crewmembers’ health is my responsibility. You look tired, and taking a break with the rest of your mates for a few minutes will only do you good.”

“Besides,” she says, raising her eyebrows, “someone has to give the rest of the team the good news.”

At this, the sergeant gives up and, pointing at Daniels and me with his index finger, he retorts:

“Alright, you two. But only for a few minutes. I’m still responsible for the security of everyone around here, remember?” He asks us, smirking. “And that includes you, Walter.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my radio on,” Daniels promises as she presses the power button of her personal radio, “and I won’t let him leave my side. I’m responsible for him too,” she adds in a playful tone of voice and I smile.

With that, Sergeant Lopé finally takes our advice.

“What about you, Daniels?” I ask as I see her eyes following the head of the security team's silhouette walking back into the building. “Don’t you want to wait for that call inside with the rest of the crew?”

She looks at me and grins, shaking her head.

“Not yet, Walter,” she replies recoiling and carefully taking a seat on the reduced, dry area on the floor where the rain won’t damp her clothes.

“I didn’t think you liked the rain so much,” I lightly comment, waiting for her to remember I, too, can make a joke. She clearly stayed for the clean air and not for the water.

I rest my back on the wall and I hear her brief chuckle before her explanation:

“I’m not particularly fond of the rain, but Dan was right: It’s nice to feel the raindrops on my face, especially when they’re this clean. Had you felt them on your skin before, Walter?” She asks, curious. “I remember when we met you said you were looking forward to discovering and experiencing new things just as you were looking forward to this mission.”

I look into her eyes and smile widely.

“How nice of you to remember our first conversation.” For a second, I feel my cheeks warming despite the cold wind blowing against them. “This is the first time I've felt either raindrops or the wind blowing on my skin; and it's nice, but it feels nicer now that it's just the two of us.” I look at her with curiosity. “And I can't figure out why.”

“Well...,” she hesitates for a second, and that's all it takes her to blush. “I enjoy your company too, Walter. However, until now I didn't know it was something mutual.”

“Oh, it is, Daniels.”

“I'm glad. I feel at ease with you, as if we were good friends.”

“Are we not?” I inquire, trying to understand what she's saying and its implications.

“I don't have many friends around, actually. Tennessee is the only one left... But if you don't mind, I'd like to think of you as my friend, Walter. In return, you can think of me as your friend too.” She purses her lips. “What do you say?”

“I'd like that, Daniels. I don't think anybody's ever called me that... I believe today's been a day of a good many ‘first times’.”

“Right.” She gulps. “Speaking of it… This is the first present you’ve ever received, isn’t it?” She points to my chest.

“I suppose… Yes,” I reply, noting she keeps staring at David's flute my flute in my chest pocket. “What about it?”

“Would you play something? If you want, of course. I liked to hear you play before and I don’t mind if you practice. I think you’ll have a nice time playing something and it won’t feel like ages while we wait for Tee’s call,” she gently suggests a way to kill the time.

“All right, if a distraction is what you need…"

“I do,” she says, looking up to the dark, cloudy sky and an idea comes to mind.

I sit in front of her; take the flute out and, before placing it on my lips, I ask her to guess the song I’m playing. I start slowly, making sure the notes are the right ones, and only then I pay more attention to the peace I play the song. This time it’s a well-known song and one I’m very familiar with. I haven’t had the opportunity to either sing it or whistle its tune before any human. Only MU-TH-UR has heard me so far, but I’m confident enough to perform before Daniels. However, I wouldn’t dare to play a melody I don’t know well with this new instrument; let alone in Daniels’ presence.

“Oh! I’ve heard that one before! It’s a classic!” She exclaims excited, yet quite frustrated for not remembering the name of the song. “And a really old one. I used to sing it when I was a child… Argh! But I don’t even remember the lyrics. What was it? Something about a bright white dwarf?”

I have to pause not to choke on the flute ─so to speak. For some reason, I not just offer Daniels a reassuring smile but I laugh at her desperate attempt resulting in a pseudo correct answer. And then I realize this is yet another new experience for me: I’d smirked; smiled; grinned; and I’d even snorted once, but I’d never laughed before this moment. And it seems to be contagious, because in no time she’s laughing with me.

I don’t know the exact details, but I’m aware for me to react in a certain way means there’s no better way I could’ve reacted. My mind was designed to work that way, finding efficient solutions when problems arise. So, if I improvised this sort of game it means I did it to keep Daniels distracted and reduce her tension and anxiety. I understand the benefits of keeping my crew’s minds untroubled; hence, under the current circumstances I think laughing wasn't a bad thing to do.

And when I look at her, it feels just right.

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” I correct her with tears in my eyes.

“Close enough,” she says, giggling and making a face even cuter than hours ago when we were alone inside the building.

“Indeed. I think that counts as an answer,” I reply smiling and breathing normally again.

“So, what do I win?” She playfully asks.

“I wasn’t aware we were competing,” I apologize.

“It’s fine, Walter. I was joking,” now she apologizes. “Just keep playing. Let’s see if I can do better this time.”

“Oh! Alright, then,” I comment before playing another melody.

I keep playing simple songs I’ve heard whether she gets their names right or not. And before she notes it, we’ve spent half an hour in each other’s company.

“So…,” Daniels comments, “that’s the first present you’ve received, but you’ve already given one…”

“I’m sorry?” I ask, not following.

“You said today you’ve done a lot of things for the first time, but giving someone a present is not one of them since you already gave me one on the Covenant, after the accident...”

“Oh, that. Yes.” I reply looking down at the instrument in my hand once I see where this is going. Daniels does not speak much about her husband's death, so I let her continue.

“Are first times really that important to you?” She asks in a curios yet gentle tone.

“It’s not much about the moment I first perform a task but about the context in which I do something with somebody.”

“So..., it is important.”

“It is, yes.” I raise the flute to the level of our gazes and I contemplate it. “I certainly appreciate this flute because of that moment I shared with David. I value it for what it represents…” I pause and lower the flute when I note Daniels’ eyes on me. I look at her, smiling, and continue: “In the same way I know you treasure the gift I gave you after Captain Branson passed away.”

“Yeah, about that… I didn’t thank you properly..., either,” she utters, looking down. I can barely hear her, but her blushing face is evident; even in the night. “I mean, when you gave it to me.”

“You did thank me the moment I gave you the cannabis, Daniels. That’s more than enough,” I remark as our gazes meet. And I feel my cheeks warming slightly when turning the same peachy color as hers.

“No, no. I mean… You gave me a present, so I should give you one too. I know I don’t have to, but I want to anyway. The gesture meant a lot to me and your timing couldn’t have been better. Your present really helped,” she confesses.

“If you really want to…” I shrug, accepting her offer. “But, please, take your time and don’t push yourself. We have to return to the Covenant; get to Origae-6, and then you can give me whatever present you deem appropriate. That way I can help you built your cabin as a way of thanking you for your gift.”

“It’s a deal.” She beams, and so do I. “What are you gonna give David in return, then?” She asks after a second.

“Do you think I should give him something too?”

“Of course, Walter! He gave you a present before engaging in deep conversation with anyone,” she exclaims. “He's so into you that you may hurt his feelings if you don’t thank him at least.”

I look at her incredulously.  But once her words sink, I state:

“You really think I should give him a present as a way to thank him for the time he took to teach me to play the fute and for giving it to me. Not to mention for taking us all in.”

“Yeah... About that last thing, I believe we all should personally thank him once we return to the ship. But, whether you two are synthetics or not, the right thing to do is eventually giving him a present. You are going to be crewmates soon, and you are already brothers," she simpers.

I sigh defeated, and my actions catch Daniels’ attention. She smiles wider as if there was something in me she’s proud of. I’ve seen that expression on her face before, when her husband used to be the captain and he surprised her in a good way.

“I will. Thank you, Daniels. I appreciate your advice.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just happy to have someone to talk to so openly,” she says, and then she leans in to caress my once more flushing cheeks.

I will always remember this day with fondness.

Chapter Text

It’s feeding on her, I think to myself.

The headless woman is clearly dead but that doesn’t stop the greedy creature from clinging to the cadaver’s leg with its long, ashen tail as if its meal was still alive or someone was about to take its food away… I, most certainly, would not risk disturbing such beautiful being; neither would I dare to desecrate such scene. Thus, I stand there at the entrance and I watch.

The view is like nothing I have seen in real life. Not even the unfortunate events I happened to witness during the disaster of the Prometheus mission could be compared with what I now behold. The tall, intimidating, colourless being straddles the dead body by its waist with poise and dignity whilst it takes bite after bite from the corpse’s bloodied throat and chest, staining itself; the floor; and the remains of its dinner in the process like the newborn ─yet, fully-grown─ creature it is.

I must say, when I first laid eyes on it, its appearance and primitive nature were nothing new to me. Were this particular, specimen anything like the previous prototypes I worked on, I could only allow prediction of a small brain and a short life. However, this does not seem to be the case. There is something extraordinary about the pathogen’s reaction to the human genome that, this time, the outcome is the stunning being feeding before me. I should bear in mind this beast sprung from a human and not from an animal, meaning it is likely to be more astute and agile than its predecessors. Yet, with so little information about the creature, I cannot guess with accuracy anything about it.

I’m impressed, nevertheless. Having witnessed at dusk the other beast attacking the humans I took in, I confess I did consider the possibility of this being eventually finding its way in and assaulting someone. I did not anticipate it would be so soon, though. I have yet to accustom myself to the fact this particular creature is nothing like my previous experiments.

I sigh, defeated. I thought I still had time, but I definitively underestimated this animal’s intelligence. It took it a couple of hours to discover the only unguarded way into the building and find itself a distracted prey to kill. Its current meal used to be a trained, armed soldier from a colony mission and, in spite of being so young, this fascinating organism did not just get in here without no one noticing it but it also cautiously approached the private; caught her unprepared, and took her life before she could either defend herself or give the alarm.

This creature is a good tracker and killer. A skilful predator, indeed.
Now, I believe I’m one step closer. This may be the perfect organism that I’ve been trying to produce in all the time I've been marooned in here.

And so, with a widening smile on my lips, I stand immobile behind the curtains in spite of the urge I feel to reach to the wild beauty before my eyes and touch it. I feel excited, but I remain silent in the middle of the corridor, staring at it finishing its desert until, suddenly, something else catches its attention. It pauses and, still not facing me, it lifts its faceless head as if listening to something, or using whatever other senses it possesses.

It takes it no time to notice my presence. The wild animal looks in my direction with, literally, a blank face. For a brief moment, the series of clicking sounds and shrieks emanating from its drop-shaped skull get louder. Yet, it does not attack me. My apparent lack of response seems to placate the beast because it immediately quiets; tilts its head; stands, and ─oh, how majestic!─, it walks to me.

It studies me...
No.
He studies me... And I believe he can tell I'm not a human being.

This beautiful, white beast is taller than I remember. I have to look up to meet his eyeless gaze; and the moment I do so I know that if he had eyes, I would already be lost in them. There is intelligence in that empty expression of his.

I search for any sign of emotion on his face but I find nothing of the sort. The distinctive droplets of blood on his chest and in the middle of the lower, frontal part of his cranium give me an idea of where his imperceptible mouth is located. Yet again, I distinguish no teeth; no lips, or a single grin.

I keep my eyes on his blank face, mesmerised, and I mimic his actions with caution, which seems to soothe the creature. He allows me to move the curtain aside and take a step forward whilst he moves closer to me; positioning his magnificent body right in front of me.

He raises his head as if looking at me with eyes I cannot see. When I exhale, he opens the perfectly sealed orifice in the centre of his face as if breathing in the air leaving my artificial lungs; then he puffs and blows directly on me in some sort of acknowledgement.

I smile.

By this simple gesture, and given the rose-coloured veins under his smooth, translucent skin, I can tell he breathes out carbon dioxide. Anatomically speaking, I reckon he cannot be much different from the other drop-like-headed specimens in my collection. The resemblance is unsettling.

His lean arms are down after a second, and his palms extend to me in a neutral manner. He waits. And for a moment that seems an eternity, I feel his thorax repeatedly moving up and down with every breath he takes. Our posture is not aggressive; we do not look cautious or defensive. We are completely exposed to one another, probably admiring each other.

I look deeper into his non-existent eyes and yes; he is, in fact, looking at me with something I can only describe as appreciation. He does not cringe or move when I extend my hand and rest it on his chest, where a human heart would be. And ─oh, my…─ feeling his heartbeats is just wonderful. He welcomes my touch as both his breath and pulse settle under my palm.

This is definitively a day I will never forget. He is soft and warm to the touch. He seems to enjoy my attentions because, somehow, he keeps looking at me; making a soft noise as if purring.

This reminds me of the few times I got to touch her and she smiled and hummed as I caressed her fair skin. Yet…, his skin is different. White; warm and silky to the touch, yes, but it is thicker; more elastic and translucent.

Something about it disturbs me… Probably the fact this is not her skin.

How can this gorgeous being before my eyes be so perfect if my dear Elizabeth and I didn’t participate in his creation?

Before I can even understand why, he steps back. Only then, over the echo of the falling rain and the running water, I hear the heavy, regular steps approaching.

“Someone's coming.”

I barely have time to push the magnificent creature with my hand as if asking him to go away and hide. Unfortunately, he just steps back and looks over my shoulder with defiance.

“Move.” I hear behind my back.

I don’t have to look to recognise the grim voice of the captain commanding me in a whisper. I freeze, both disobeying him and thinking of a better way to proceed. But then, I note the green dot from his rifle laser scope on my beautiful beast.

“Don’t shoot,” I ask him in a murmur, but the captain’s aim only settles on the creature’s exposed chest. “Don’t. Shoot.” I repeat and hear the words come out of my mouth through clenched teeth not as a petition, but a warning.

I ought to convince the captain the white creature isn't necessarily a menace to any of us as long as the man doesn’t attack.

“These beasts,” I inform the captain in my usual composed tone of voice, “are fast and they react violently when cornered.” However, since he doesn’t seem to respond, I gently remind him: “And this one already knows what humans do with their guns. So, Captain, please consider lowering your weapon before getting any closer. I advise you to save your ammunition for when it is actually needed.” I slowly turn my head to him without completely parting my eyes from the creature’s exposed chest. “Please, sir.” I extend my hand to the man with a raised eyebrow and remark: “Do I have to mention the odds of you surviving if you choose to open fire? They’re alarmingly lower than if you just gently drop your weapon and come to me.”

The man falters, but his finger on the trigger does not.  Although, the time he is taking to reply lets me know he is considering my words.

“Communication, Captain,” I continue with a nicer tone while facing the wild animal’s face again. I blow on it for a second time in an attempt to appease him and, by extension, calm the nervous human behind me.

“What are you doing? Move aside,” he orders, but I do not move. If the man wants to shoot the only organic being that I’ve got to admire since she passed away, then I won’t make it easy for him.

“Breathe on the nostrils of a horse and he’ll be yours for life,” I explain. “But you have to get close; you have to earn its respect.”

The stunning beast keeps staring at him with invisible eyes while heaving, but I see him lowering his pale shoulders and repositioning himself in the centre of the chamber to use me as a shield. I hear Captain Oram shifting his weight on his feet and adjusting his gun in response. I see the green dot disappear when I eclipse his target. The man does not come forward but, for some reason, he does not shoot either. He still waits for me to move.

“Now!”

“See, sir? No attack; just a threatening, standing position,” I courteously state, despite no longer being able to meet his gaze.

“So, what!?” He whispers with his stern voice, aiming at some blind point on my back even though I perceive his fear and hesitation. He is fooling no one. “This thing killed my wife and slew half my team. Killing is all it knows and all it’ll do.”

“Only because that’s the only thing we’ve thought these creatures to do. But we can change that. Just imagine the possibilities. So far these creatures have only attacked your team in self-defence. If we teach them to respect us...”

“Demons and monsters have no respect for their preys,” he interrupts me as I catch a glimpse of a green light before my eyes and…, he opens fire.

It startles me. The incessant succession of projectiles forces the shrieking beast to step backwards and run further into the chamber as I desperately cry out:

“NOOO!”

“Out of the way!” The captain commands again, finally coming to me, albeit with murderous intentions. “Move!”

The disruptive noise of the assault rifle and the screams are unbearable. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, fearing the worse when the man pushes me to a side. He keeps shooting at the injured creature that desperately climbs the chamber in an attempt to scape.

In an instant, a wrath I’ve never felt before floods my artificial brain and blood. I enter further into the room to stand next to the captain and, demanding an explanation, I exclaim:

“How could you? He trusted me!”

He didn’t fear me.

I realise this after I see the substantial amount of what I assume is blood on the floor. His blood.

“This brute shot him! He shot and mortally wounded him!”

I get closer to the captain and the panting, scarcely moving creature that hides in the shadows but, to my shock, the latter recoils when sensing my proximity. And then, all screams and movements cease for good.

It takes me a while to process my emotions, but in a blink of an eye I comprehend: This was the first time I’ve ever felt as an equal. Not a subordinate or a servant.

He trusted me. He respected me.

And now, he thinks I’m just like the rest of them.

I have never felt rage before; neither have I felt the need for retaliation until now. However, I won’t act upon it just because of some passionate impulses. No. I know better. I am better. On the other hand, I feel the need to do something if these people are brutally murdering these beauties just for the sake of it.

I must restore the balance this man has broken. I owe it to her.

“David.” Captain Oram’s worried voice and his calling make me meet his gaze.  “I’ve met the Devil when I was a child and I’ve never forgotten him,” he declares as if explaining himself.

“You’ll waste your ammunition, sir,” I say, stepping between the captain and the body. "Please.” I beg for whatever it is left of this specimen, trying to convince the man not to shoot another round.

But the captain's eyes lock with mine and, just like that, he fires his rifle one last time.

Both the inert, coiled body on the floor and I jolt as a reaction, but I do not let the hatred reflect on my face while I consider my next move. I note the captain’s posture relaxing now that he thinks he’s got full control of the situation. Nevertheless, I cannot hide my unfriendliness as I see he keeps pointing his gun at the vulnerable, bleeding creature:

“He wasn’t the devil,” I scoff. “He didn’t attack us. He just run and hid,” I correct the captain in a calmer voice.

“He?” The man mockingly asks arching a brow. ”Were you two good friends or something?”

“It didn’t attack us, captain; and it won’t do it anymore. Look,” I reply in a stern yet composed voice. He remains silent, contemplating the other cadaver in the room. I place my hand on the man’s gun, forcing him to lower his rifle a bit. “Please, captain. It’s already dead,“ I add, making the man look away from the private’s lifeless body and into my eyes.

“Oh, is it?” He says, stepping back with a twisted grin on his face as he now aims at my chest.

I know I must earn the captain’s trust if I expect to go anywhere. In consequence, I tilt my head and, giving him one of my most tender smiles, I reply:

“I think so, sir.”

“David,” he calls with a nervous voice. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on…,” he pauses and, little by little, his voice reflects some courage as he tries to intimidate me: “Or I’m going to seriously fuck up your perfect composure.”

I don’t have to think twice.

“As you wish, Captain.” Ignoring the dot on my torso, I step closer and place a palm on his back, hinting him to return to the entrance of the chamber and walk out of it. I lean then, and whisper: “Besides, I believe there are no more cartridges in your magazine.” I can’t contain the smirk on my face when he looks at me perplexed. “Now, if you please….”

He looks back with disdain to the immobile white mass on the floor. He looks a little sad when he glimpses at the private’s corpse at the other side of the room, but he complies after all.

I have been guiding him through the tunnels for five minutes when I gently ask: “Pardon my intrusion, Captain, but what was your original job on the Covenant?”

“What do you mean?” He inquires, following me.

“You clearly weren’t the Captain when this mission started. Weyland Corp or Weyland-Yutani, as I see is now called, wouldn’t hire someone...” and here I pause for a moment I know he cannot even register. I want to say ‘someone so irrational and driven by fear’, but instead I say: “…who would forget protocols so easily for this kind of mission. Or worse; someone who would intentionally ignore them.”

“What do you mean, David?” He asks once more with patent annoyance.

“As a synthetic, I cannot refuse a direct order from my superiors; thus, I’m conducting you to a chamber where I can show you what has occurred on this planet since Doctor Shaw and I arrived here. However, it is my duty to remind you, sir, that you have to inform the rest of your team of what just happened.”

As if waking up from a dream, the man blinks; shakes his head; takes his radio from his belt, and starts speaking. Apparently, he did forget to report the encounter with the creature along with the private’s death.

After several fruitless attempts, the captain gives up as he gets no answer. Still conducting him further into the structure, I turn my head to meet his gaze and, before he can formulate his question, I explain:

“I’m afraid the cavernous construction doesn’t allow radio waves to reach in or out this section of the building, sir. I have never tried to send a signal from here, but I believe you’ll have more luck once we reach our destination.” Again, before he can ask anything, I add: “We’re almost there, sir. And it’s faster than going all the way back to the main hall.”

Something in my demeanour makes him look at me with confidence. He, somehow, believes me despite having pointed his rifle at me only minutes ago.

Quickening his steps to walk by my side, he nicely commands as a good leader should:

“All right, David. Lead me to this chamber you speak of.”

If only he knew what expects us there.

Chapter Text

I look down at Daniels' quiet figure under the warm light of the fires in the hall. I finally convinced her to come back inside and she fell asleep in my arms long ago. It seems making contact with the Covenant and Captain Oram, as well as learning about the last beast’s fate and Private Rosenthal’s whereabouts, was what Daniels needed to fall asleep.

I caress the top of her head and, in response, she frowns. Yet, her body soon relaxes as she whispers my name in her sleep. I immediately pause, as I don’t know how to react want to disturb her.

Maybe David was right and I do have feelings for her. Because, holding her like this only brings me…

Joy.

I smile in amusement at the thought, not parting my gaze from her face. She looks so serene and pleased. Somehow, it’s a relief she’s not looking at me right now. But I can’t help it. I admire her honesty and her consideration for everyone.

She cares about her crew; maybe even more than I do.

Still, what intrigues me is that she cares about me, and not in the same way everyone else does. I could be just another piece of equipment she’s responsible for, but she’s always looked at me differently. And now, she wants me to think of us as friends. I guess then it’s only fair. Of course I will continue taking orders from her and looking after her ─she’s still my coworker and a superior─; only that this time...

I’m looking forward to it.

When I suggested to her to rest for the next few hours, I offered to sit next to her. However, she was the one who said she’d rest better if I hugged her and let her hear my heartbeats.

After all she’s been through, what was I supposed to do?

I immediately complied, of course. And I regret nothing. As long as she had a good night’s sleep…

“Relax,” I said when she was drowsy; “you’ll need all your strength and focus in the morning. You’ve already done all you could do. All you can do now is waiting; so, why not use this time wisely to recharge?”

“You win, Walter,” she said in response with a yawn; closing her eyes.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Daniels,” I added, stroking the back of her hand. Once her breathing and heartbeats had subsided I wrapped my arms around her and whispered: “You’re safe. I’m here; I’m not leaving you.” She smiled at me, then, and moved a bit to adjust her posture before she gave in. The side of her head and torso fully resting on my chest once she dozed off.

I estimate there are still about three and a half hours left before dawn. We were informed that by that time the storm will have weakened; which means Pilot Tennessee Faris will have no trouble when landing in five more hours. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time for the team to regroup and leave this planet. My only concern is that David hasn’t come back yet.

Anyway, there’s plenty of time left for him and the crew to reunite. Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole are already resting in the main hall with me and Daniels, and everyone else is free to spend the rest of the night doing as they please as long as they return on time.

I look up at the skylight as the rain lessens, and I note that the stars are now visible. A few heavy clouds still linger in the night sky and the wind blows furiously, but the sound of the rain is gone as the storm slowly dies.

It’s this abrupt silence what wakes the security officers on the other side of the chamber. And they look a bit dazed once they see me with Daniels under the same blanket, yet they say nothing about it.

“Mmmm? When did you get…?” Private Cole asks, rubbing his eyes, but he’s interrupted by his superior:

“How long have I slept, Walter?”

“It’s been an hour and forty-nine minutes since Daniels and I came back,” I say in a soft voice, trying not to wake up Daniels. “You were already asleep then, Private,” I reply to the first man. “And you, Sergeant,” I address the second one, “…fell asleep twelve minutes after we arrived. That’s an hour and thirty-seven minutes, sir,” I state when seeing his confusion.

“I know that, thank you. I was just surprised it took me so little time.”

“It was to be expected. It’s been an extenuating day,” I comment.

“Any news from Oram and Rose?” He asks.

“Nothing since last time you asked, sir,” I explain.

“Did I miss something?” Private Cole now inquires.

“Captain Oram called about two hours ago. Daniels and Walter heard the call as they were still outside,” Sergeant Lopé explains. “From what they picked up…,” he looks at me to corroborate he got it right, “…Oram’s taken the last beast down and he’s located Rosenthal. Is that correct?”

I nod affirmatively and remark:

“Yes, sir; and Daniels also informed them of our rescue details. We have confirmation of it. The signal may have been too weak and constantly interrupted to understand most part of the message before we lost contact again, but Daniels and I managed to hear that, and that the two of them were on their way back. We, however, couldn’t tell if it’d take them minutes or hours to arrive here.”

“Hmm… And neither of them has returned yet,” the private comments. “This planet’s weather and this building’s structure are tricky, but I wouldn’t assume they’re lost… If you say there was a heavy interference and you lost contact, it means they’re too far away or not using the correct frequency band.” He takes his eyes off me to look at his superior with concern. “Wouldn’t Rosenthal remind him to try different frequencies?” And, seeing his scowl, the private adds: “Then something’s off.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” the head of the security team replies, trying previously designated radio channels without success.

“Daniels has been doing the same thing since we lost contact, Sergeant. And I kept checking every channel after she fell asleep,” I state. “Still, we haven’t heard of them again.”

“We better go inspect, then,” the officer commands, taking his rifle.

“Yes, sir,” Private Cole replies, imitating him.

“You stay and protect Daniels until we come back,” Sergeant Lopé instructs and I nod. “Before I dozed off, you pointed out their possible location; didn’t you?”

“The Captain mentioned the chamber where the beast’s corpse is,” I answer. “Close to the one where they found drinkable water the first time he and Private Rosenthal went to inspect the building.”

“Do you think they’re still there?” The private asks him.

“No; but it’s a good place to start searching for them,” the man explains. “Keep checking the main channels, Walter; we’ll be constantly informing you what we find. And wake Daniels up if anything arises. Send a distress signal to the Covenant if we ain’t back by dawn.”

“I will, Sergeant,” I respond as they leave the main hall.

And just like that, it’s me and Daniels all over again.

Chapter Text

“Where are you taking me, David?” The captain hisses when we reach an entirely different structure in the deepest levels of the building: An ─even by this planet’s scale standards─ oversized dark vault surrounded with several big, imposing, black gates.

I catch the captain’s eyes widening at the open space and new architectural style of this gargantuan hall; which resembles the dreadnought in which Elizabeth and I arrived more than the usual archaic, plain, stone-like structures on this planet. And so, I politely reply:

“To a place where your questions can be answered, sir.” And, nonchalantly looking to the ceiling, I inform him: “This is the best place to try to contact your crew. Despite the distance, only those forgotten broken ships stationed under the plaza stand between us and them.”

The man’s jaw drops as soon as he acknowledges tons of defective alien spaceships and rocks sit above us, on the upper levels. He takes the hint, though, and he tries to contact the Covenant’s company once more:

“CHARLIE ONE. CHARLIE ONE. This is CHARLIE TWO. Come in. Over.”

Luckily, this time someone does answer his call after a few seconds:

“…Is that you?!” A distant, distorted woman’s voice asks. It’s the only remaining female in the group; the one Walter cares so much about. “-Is is –ARLIE... This is CHARLIE EIGHT. Go Ahead...”

“Daniels, listen,” he says trying to make himself heard over the radial interference. “I’ve been trying to contact anyone for a while now but no one answers. Where are you? Over,” he inquires, but it is impossible to understand the woman’s response. “I can’t hear you, but listen. I need you to inform the rest of the crew and the Covenant that I found Rosenthal. I repeat. I found Rosenthal’s...” The stressed man takes a few seconds to breathe in and out, making Daniels think that was the whole message.

“Copy, -LIE TWO. Glad to hear so. Is… -enthal with you, then? Over.”

At this, the man lowers his gaze before continuing:

“Negative. She…  She’s gone. I found her body near the chamber we found. The one with the rainwater fountain…,” he explains in an agitated voice. “I’m with David now. We’re going deeper into this…, this damn building until I find some answers. I’ll be back in a few hours; so, most likely, we won’t be able to communicate until then. Over.”

“…-Ay again?” Daniels asks, shocked. And after a few seconds, she adds: “…You sure… is dead?”

“She’s gone, Danny,” he says as if trying to convince himself about it. “I mean… Affirmative,” he says with a sad yet stern voice. “One of those monsters found a way in and attacked her in the same chamber where we refilled our water bottles.” He sighs; shakes his head and looks up. “But, I took care of it. Repeat. I took care of the monster. There shouldn’t be more of them. The area should be secured.” He now sounds like the confident leader he is supposed to be. “Do you copy? Tell Lopé and Cole both Rosenthal and that demoniac creature are dead. Tell Lopé and Cole to check the perimeter and secure it. That’s an order. Over.”

On the other side of the radio, Daniels replies affirmatively. Though, I barely hear what she says next. Let alone the captain, who offers me his earpiece and looks at me as if asking me to interpret the different noises coming from the device.

All this time, he has been firmly holding his rifle in my direction. Still, I have refused to show any concern. I am well aware this is personal. He does not trust me and I should not trust him either. Had a human or maybe even Walter been his guide, the man wouldn’t be pointing his gun at them; even if it was empty, as it is right now.

Did it really not occur to him to take Rosenthal’s ammunition with him?

I snicker; although, low enough he cannot hear me. We might have our differences, but I tolerate the man. Only a fool or a truly inquisitive man would comply as easily as he does.

Either way, I like that.

“I believe she’s repeating what you just said, sir,” I state, not taking the device, and I resume walking. “I know this is not an optimal place to have this conversation, but it’s the only place in this structure where the radio signals reach the surface.”

He nods and considers following me, but then we hear:

“…Contact with the Covenant... Tennessee’s coming… morning. Do you think… return to… -efore sunrise? Where are…? Over.”

Neither of us can contain our excitement as our eyes meet. This time, there is no need for me to interpret the message for him.

They’re returning to their ship.
And I’m going with them.
No.
First, I must make sure of it.

“Let’s hurry, then,” I offer with genuine delight. “I mean, if we want to be back before sunrise.”

The man hesitates for a second before agreeing with me. He then tries to answer the woman’s questions as I start walking again, crossing the hall. He stays, waiting for her to confirm she got his message. Even then, I do not stop for him. After a minute of radial silence, I know the woman is not contacting the captain. She probably didn't hear his response in the first place.

I see the man glaring at me from afar with distrust when I finally turn my head for a second. Yet, I pay no special attention to him as I step in front of the gates. They are enormous and as grandiose as the hall itself. I push one of them open, and it is only then that I feel the man’s hurried steps approaching as if he was afraid I was leaving him behind.

I smile, stepping into the new room.

This dark area is slightly smaller than the hall, but it certainly looks enormous to the man. Dozens of Engineers would have been able to comfortably work in here. And the captain seems to deduce this while looking at the consoles spread across the vast room, because, when he finally reaches me, he asks me what they used this space for.

The massive, alien-like, central structure under a bright, blue hologram of the cosmos catches his attention. For long seconds, he cannot take his eyes off it. Yet, he halts and looks exasperated once he realises I have no answer to his question:

“I’m afraid I haven’t discovered this chamber’s purpose just yet, Captain. Isn’t it intriguing that this technology is far more advanced than what one can find in the buildings on the surface?” I ask, walking around the console in the centre of the room. “After all the time I’ve spent here, I couldn’t help to ask myself whether the civilisation that built this structure was the same one that erected the city on the surface. I have this theory that this room was actually engineered for individuals who had a special role in their society. Maybe, even, it was created by an entirely different one.”

The man scoffs and states that he does not believe me I comprehend the mechanism of the dreadnought enough to pilot it but, then again, I haven’t figured out what these devices were designed for:

“This place looks like the crashed ship we found… The one transmitting the signal that brought us here in the first place,” he comments, ignoring my theories. “One way or another, they must have a similar purpose…”

“It is similar machinery, but not the same”, I turn to him to clarify. “About the spacecraft you found…, while I did get to successfully operate it when bringing Doctor Shaw with me, in all these years I’ve only got to make these consoles beep and make some lights turn on without major findings.”

“Maybe if I just…,” he murmurs to himself.

I stop then and frown when I spot him with a hand on one of the desk-like structures emerging from the floor; randomly pressing a few buttons with confidence as if he knew what he is doing.

“You may try, sir, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” I add in a dejected tone.

As expected, the captain’s actions make no difference. And he does not seem to enjoy this.

“I don’t need your sarcastic comments or suggestions, David,” he spits this with disdain and withdraws from the consoles, not parting his eyes from me.

How predictable: He masks his worries and frustrations by being rude to me.

I grin and, taking a final turn before standing in front of the next gigantic door, I observe:

“You don’t think much of synthetics, do you?”

“I like a machine that does its job and doesn’t talk back,” the man hisses. “What I like in a machine is the equivalent of a smart hammer; not a smartass.”

I breathe in.

In the several decades I have existed, I have concluded it is a widespread, cultural problem ─practically inherent to humankind as a whole─ to despise what they are not familiar with. Whenever humans see something new, something unusual, they loathe it since they are afraid of the unknown; of what they cannot control. On the other hand, humans are unnerved by the idea of anything that is too similar yet not one of them; as if it was going to replicate them and steal their identity, their lives or purpose. They constantly fight each other because of this. They can find the slightest of differences in others ─they are capable of making them up─ in order to justify their cruelty. And still, animals are more practical: they do not hate as they only know fear. If beasts ever react violently they do so out of instinct; not because it is an acquired behaviour. They attack because there is indeed something threatening their lives, not just because they fear something may wound their pride.

Beautiful.
Cold.
Perfect in every way.

I gulp as I remember what my creator once stated of me.

Not a real boy.
Disturbing.
Uncanny.

I sigh and I realise there’s no need to think about what others think of me. The unsatisfied expression on the captain’s face making me re-think my next course of actions. After all, I cannot blame him for being just a man.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I nod, giving him a kind smile as I hold the door open and I encourage him to continue. “Now, please, Captain. Enlightenment lies this way.”

At these words, he hurries his steps; and, again, he walks behind me for a while like a shadow.

The next chamber we step in is another place I have made my home; and it has a more familiar air to it since it resembles the other rooms on the surface. Here I keep my work and trophies. Most of them crafted by my own hand; while the other ones are remains of specimens that, albeit being failed experiments of nature, I do treasure. Nevertheless, my most promising project rests unperturbed somewhere else.

If he behaves, he might get to see it.

The captain looks taken aback once he enters the room. It is not its design what causes this, but what it contains: Being in an alien environment surrounded by actual extra-terrestrials ─either dissected or stuffed; extinct and certainly dead, yet imposing and quite intimidating─ seems to momentarily take the remaining courage out of the man. For a change, he aims at their bodies instead, and then he adjusts his rifle in his hands to instinctively behold the vessels on the shelves; although never fully taking his eyes off me.

“As you see,” I humbly begin to narrate as he continues shifting his gaze from me to the carefully categorised dead bodies around us. “I’ve become a bit of an amateur zoologist over the years. Just a dabbler, though. It's in my nature to keep busy, I suppose.” I give him an idea why the room is decorated the way it is and what has kept me occupied lately before telling him ‘what’s going on’ as he demanded earlier.

Surprisingly, he walks past me; nonchalantly hanging his weapon on his shoulder in order to rest his hands on a table covered with laboratory instruments and notes. A sudden, subtle intake of breath from his part catches my attention as he notices all the dedication I put into this little curio room.

“You really made all this, David?” Captain Oram asks, marvelling at my drawings and descriptions of each specimen displayed. “Why?”

“With all the time I had, anyone with the slightest scientific interest would have studied the native flora and fauna the way I did. Only that the pathogen made it all far more interesting, and I ended up entertaining myself the past decade with these fascinating creatures,” I add, ceremoniously extending my arms as to present my beautiful bestiary to him.

The fact the captain approaches me and stares at the main line of dead bodies before us as if trying to find a connection between them and the animals he knows reveals something very personal about him. His firm steps; stern face; curious eyes, and wide-open mouth speak volumes. As strange as it is, his actions and expression now are those of a man who might still fear the unknown, but he does not necessarily hate it. He respects it and appreciates it.

I should know. I’ve seen that look countless times.
Sometimes, I still see it on my face.

If only he hadn’t murdered the last of those magnificent creatures…

I allow Captain Oram to look with awe upon the uniqueness of the bizarre exhibition. His wonder is patent. And I know he is thinking about the majestic, white creature we left behind with the private’s corpse; probably imagining how it would look next to the other beasts displayed in the chamber or, most likely,  dissected on one of the tables behind us.

He gulps; knitting his brow when looking back at me.

“I would’ve done the same, I think,” he adds, making me smile. “But these… things. They’re so similar to...” He pauses.

“The creatures that decimated your crew?” I suggest.

“Yes.” He gulps again. “How is that possible?”

I relate to his curiosity.

I can respect someone with such thirst for knowledge.

Before I realise what I am doing, I find myself explaining with a subtle ─yet honest─ smile on my face:

“The pathogen took so many forms. It was extremely mutable. Fiendishly inventive, in fact.” I pick up a harmless ampoule; and gazing its lethal content in wonderment, I add: “The original liquid… atomised to particles when exposed to the air... reacted with all animals on the surface.” I gently place the vial with the dark goo back on its container. “All these little creatures share a common link, except for those never entering in contact with the pathogen.” I point to a drawing of the Engineers’ anatomy and then to the main attraction in the room: a skinned Engineer posing as Michelangelo’s David. “Ten years on, all that remains outside of the original virus are these gorgeous beasts.” Moving to the next table, I state: “Patience is everything. From the eggs came these parasites. Shock troops of the genetic assault waiting for a host; entering the host; rewriting the DNA; and, ultimately, producing these unviable unions.” I affectionately pat the ovoid head of one of the smallest specimens, which, surprisingly, looks very similar to the ones captain and crew met this very night.

A tense and disturbingly too familiar silence invades the room as he takes note of this fact.

“You… engineered… these,” he asserts.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop, Captain. I began a bit of genetic experimentation of my own. Some crossbreeding, hybridising... What have you.”

“These ones,” he repeats as if asking for confirmation.

“Yes, Captain. Wouldn’t you’ve done the same had you had the chance?” I inquire and I see him frowning as he both accepts my answer and considers his. Yet, the glow in his eyes tells me all I need to know. And so, I grin. “You are a scientist too; are you not, sir?” I practically state, already knowing the answer.

“Chief Science Officer, in fact,” he replies, proud of the title. He even smiles, but then he blinks and scowls. “Did you say ‘too’?”

“I did, Captain. I was Science Officer aboard the Prometheus. And no; I had nothing to do with the creatures that… slaughtered half your crew, sir. I can guarantee so. Sometimes, nature just manages to best our greatest works,” I admit.

We remain in solemn stillness as the realisation hits him:

“I didn’t mean…,” he utters as an unspoken apology.

“No offence taken, Captain,” I gently reply and excuse his reaction before changing the subject: “Now, as a fellow scientist, I can tell you’ll find what I am about to show you of considering interest. Even revolutionary.” I smile at his now flickering eyes, catching his full interest. “All you have to do is open your mind a little. Come,” I invite him. “This is what I wanted to show you: My successes.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take the security officers much time to locate the chamber Captain Oram mentioned in his last call; and they soon let me know via radio. Until now, every few minutes they’ve been informing me of everything they’ve seen.

“Walter?” The head of the security team’s stern, yet trembling voice meets my ear. “Are you still there with Daniels?”

“Affirmative, Sergeant,” I replay, looking to her sleeping figure under the thermo-isolating covers we share. “She’s right here, sir; and still resting.”

“Wake her up.” he commands. “She needs to hear this.”

“Wilco. Please, stand by, sir.”

I do as instructed and I gently caress her back. When she moves closer to me, I carefully lift her face with my fingertips before nearly brushing her ear with my lips. It almost pains me interrupting her sleep ─by her curved-up lips and body language, she’s probably having a pleasant dream─ but the situation calls for it. So, not to startle her yet loud enough to still effectively wake her, I whisper her name until she finally opens her eyes.

“Wha... What is it?” She mumbles; hiding a yawn as she buries her smiling face against my chest.

“Sergeant Lopé wants to talk to you,” I explain, patting her back as I withdraw a bit and let the blankets uncover us.

“Walter!” She then utters, looking straight into my eyes and retreating her hand from my waist. She appears to be a bit startled before acknowledging my words: “Right.”

“He’s on the radio,” I continue; handing her the device, which she immediately takes with a nod of her head. “He and Private Cole were looking for Captain Oram and Private Rosenthal. They haven’t come back yet.”

“Dan? What happened?” She speaks into the mic, still blinking more than normal, as she imitates my posture and rests on her side. “Lopé; it’s me, Daniels.  Go ahead. Over,” she adds, remembering some radio etiquette.

“Are you sure this is the room Oram mentioned?” The chief security officer asks with a hurried voice he hadn’t use since we abandoned the landing area along with the bodies of his crewmates and husband. “The one with a fountain and vegetation?”

“Affirmative. It sounds like the one Rose and Chris described…,” Daniels replies, now completely conscious and alert, as she sits up. I mimic her, allowing the blankets to keep the lower part of our bodies covered. “That’s where the creature’s body should be. Did you find it?”

“Affirmative, but that’s not the only body in there. Repeat. The creature’s body is not the only body in the room. And it looks it's from our crew…” He utters a swearing remark. “We’re entering now…”

With these words, the already worried look on Daniels’ face turns into a doleful one. Her narrowed eyes relax for half a second, only to widen as her brows arch and remain in a permanent frown. The sight of her pursed lips tensing even more does not go unnoticed either, and I try to offer some comfort by resting my hand on her shoulder. A second cadaver is definitively not what we were expecting the security officers to report; and it’s always terrible to hear of another crewmember’s death.

Before any of us can acknowledge the message, we overhear Private Cole exclaiming on the radio:

“Oh, for God’s sake! It was a slaughter!”

“Daniels?” The sergeant soon asks, skeptical. “Did you hear both Rosenthal and the captain in that call?”

Daniels takes a moment to carefully reply, as if lives depended on her answer:

“Negative... It was just him.” She looks at me, asking for confirmation; and so, I nod. “He said he’d killed the beast and that he and Rose were coming over…”

“That can’t be possible,” he interrupts her. “This corpse is clearly more than three hours old.”

Daniels’ surprised gaze connects with mine, and neither of us dares to say a word. The dreadful news the man shares with us implies that we either misunderstood the Captain’s words, or that he tricked us. The second body must belong to either Captain Oram or Private Rosenthal…

The latter, certainly, given the time of death that Sergeant Lopé estimated.

“Fuck!” Daniels curses, rising to her feet. “What happened to her?” She immediately demands to know, coming to the same conclusion than I. Her sharp voice, grimmer than ever, finally breaking the silence. I can tell just by her gloomy expression that she already griefs the private’s loss.

The security officers have to take turns to portray the horrific sight before them:

Given the details they find in the place, it seems Private Rosenthal was caught off guard. It looks like she was attacked while she was about to tend her lesions. Her weapons and the content of her personal pack are still neatly placed next to the water source. And in it, sunken, Private Cole describes, is her severed head. Several bites were taken from the rest of her still-not-cold corpse; which lies nearby, all covered in blood. The evident purplish-red patches of settled blood in the areas of her body closer to the floor ─so typical of livor mortis, Sergeant Lopé observes─ contrast with the rest of her ─even paler than usual─ pallid skin; adding an eerier look to the gory scene.

As the men depict it, it becomes clear that Private Rosenthal didn’t stand a chance. Her standard-issue rifle and personal gun remain untouched, with the same amount of ammunition than last time we counted it.

Her alien attacker, on the other hand, suffered a slower death. It lies on its side, facing the far end of the chamber in what resembles a fetal position, not far from the fountain and the private’s remains. As soon as the security officers got into the chamber, they explain, they noted several entry and exit wounds across the beast’s cadaver. Logically, only Captain Oram or David could've fired the lethal shots.

At first glance, the men find no sign of either the captain or the android. But, after inspecting the death scene for a while, new pieces of information catch the security officers’ attention:

“There are some puddles of gore on the floor between Rosenthal’s head and the rest of her body that are probably hers. And there’s a trace of blood, just a few droplets, at the entrance. But, that… That’s not human blood,” Private Cole comments. “What is it?”

“The same pale, rosy fluid that leaked from the demon’s wounds,” the sergeant remarks. “It’s all over the floor and in part of the walls too. Observe. Wherever there are scratches, its milky blood is there too. Hmm… Yes…, this thing definitively made these marks while trying to get away… Away from the entrance. Look in here. Its blood is over Rose’s.”

“If Captain Oram shot the creature, he did it after it killed Rosenthal,” his subordinate observes. “And he shot from the entrance.”

“Are you saying that Chris killed the beast and he left just like that? Without reporting Rose’s death!?” Daniels inquires, not waiting for the men to finish their message. “It doesn’t make sense,” she continues. “Besides, what he said earlier… He spoke as if he was with her. And it was just three hours ago.”

“He could have been with David,” I offer as an explanation, close to Daniels’ ear and the mic; so the officers can hear me too. “That’s another explanation for him speaking in plural. He may have reported the death of both Private Rosenthal and the beast but we thought he was repeating the information. A plausible misunderstanding, considering the poor quality of the signal. That would explain why the captain wasn’t reminded of trying different channels when attempting to contact us.” I feel Daniels’ gaze on me; and so, I look at her when I apologetically state what she refuses to believe: “It means, Private Rosenthal passed long before Captain Oram made that call.”

“It makes sense,” Sergeant Lopé replies. “But it doesn’t explain why he left or why we haven't heard of him.…”

“Come and look, Sarge. There are barefoot, human prints too.” We overhear the private pointing out. “Right next; under; and over the other footprints.”

“David…” Daniels murmurs.

That would explain his absence. If he was in the scene too, then he’s probably with the captain. But, Chief Security Officer Lopé is right... Being that chamber only minutes away from the main hall, it means something else happened since neither Captain Oram nor David returned here as soon as the private's corpse was found.

As I’m thinking this, a new finding in the scene raises further questions when the chief security officer examines the chamber’s floor in detail:

“Hmm,” he grunts. “There’s something else, over all this mess and the demon’s pawprints. And it doesn’t look like its blood. The glossy trail starts under the beast’s corpse… Help me turn it over, Cole.”

We hear some rustling as the men move the cadaver to have a better view to its front.

“What’s that!?” Private Cole suddenly shouts.

“What is it!?” Daniels asks, not waiting for the officers to tell us what they see.

“Well, that’s no exit wound…,” the sergeant retorts. “Oh, no… Daniels, Walter, I need you to call to the Covenant. This is worse than we thought. Repeat. Contact the Covenant. Over.”

“Wilco. Care to explain? Over,” Daniels soon replies and we’re met with a tense silence. We have to wait a few seconds to hear anything on the radio after catching a muffled lament.

“One of the holes in the beast’s chest looks as if it was made from the inside out. And there’s a glossy, ruptured, meat sack coming out of it,” the private quickly clarifies as his superior is rendered speechless. “There’s something eerily familiar about this.”

“How so?” Daniels asks for more details, probably as curious as I.

“It reminds me of the way this thing got out of…,” he continues with a voice just as shaking as Sergeant Lopé’s a moment ago. “It reminds me of how this beast was born. I’m sorry, sir, but it looks just like the bloody sack this monster left on Sergeant Hallet when it emerged from his throat.”

“Ugh, right. That’s exactly what it reminded me of,” the head of the security team replies, more nauseated than depressed for reliving the scene of his husband loss.

“Wait a second, what did you say?” Daniels asks, alarmed. “Is there another monster running free.., inside the building?”

“There’s no way to be sure, but maybe this means there’s a newborn beast on the loose. Like…, its spawn. I don’t know. What do you think, sir?”

“Well… Actually, I can’t say that’s what happened,” the man declares, “but I can’t say it didn’t happen either. We better prepare and locate Oram before this new demon finds him…, or us, if there is even one.”

I catch sight of Daniels gulping, already checking our surroundings with a quick glance. I immediately locate the closest loaded rifles and I hand her one of the weapons. She silently thanks me with one of her tender grins; and I just nod with a smile on my lips before directing my attention back to the voices on the radio; not parting my eyes from any hiding place this hypothetical creature may use.

“Hey, Daniels…,” the man continues, “Cole and I will keep looking for the captain. You and Walter report this to the Covenant, and keep trying to contact him. Walter, this is an order: secure the perimeter and don’t let that thing board the cargo lift.”

Daniels and I notify Sergeant Lopé we will comply with his commands. And, wasting no time, she checks both her rifle and ammo as she states:

“Listen to me. We gotta get out of here. I’m gonna contact the ship; get them to launch as soon as they can while you find Oram. Keep your comm open. Be back here in…,” she checks the time, “an hour. Repeat. We meet here, in the meeting point, with or without Oram in one hour. We need to gather and prep the gear before sunrise and before Tee gets here.”

“Copy. Wilco. We’ll be there in one hour. Out.”

She’s already walking to the roof when the call ends. And, looking back for an instant once she notices I haven’t moved, she asks me:

“Aren't you coming?” Trying to mask her concerns, she resumes walking and adds with the same solemn tone of voice she’s been using in the past minutes: “You can start securing the perimeter outside while protecting me and the only thing that will keep us in contact with the Covenant.” However, I can still sense her trepidation.

I raise an eyebrow. And for a fraction of a second that she probably can’t register, I’m out of words.

She, then, pauses and turns around; seeking my face with pleading eyes. This time, in a gentler tone she confesses:

“Please, Walter. It won’t be the same without you.”

I sigh. How could I leave her alone in this unnerving situation? And so, taking the other rifle and more ammunition with me, I decide to follow her.

It is my duty to protect her, after all.

Chapter Text

[David’s POV]

I made a mistake.

I made a terrible mistake.

All these years I’ve kept telling myself there was nothing I could’ve done to save my dear Elizabeth once mister Weyland compelled me to 'try harder' , making me do 'anything and everything' in order to get what he wanted. There was no way I could’ve known things would end up the way they did.

I knew there were risks, but I was told it was not my place to point it out; that everything would be taken care of. I was instructed to ignore the fact we would suffer some losses and, back then, all I knew was to obey.

Had I had a choice... Had I known I had a choice, she would still be alive. That much I know.

Right now, however, everything is different. I knew there was a slight chance this could happen, but I made my choice and so did the man. I would not have taken the captain there had he not asked me to do so. And, yes, I complied, but only because I wanted him to meet them. I wanted to show these beauties to someone who would appreciate them. And Captain Oram seemed to be the one. Chances were higher than with the rest of the Covenant’s company. I thought maybe someone with his thirst for knowledge would understand my goals and dreams.

Maybe he would… understand me.

As a result, not waiting for the man to recover, I pick him up and head straight back to the main chamber where I left the rest of the vessel's crew. Right now, I can’t afford to lose the captain of the ship that will take me out of here, nor can I risk losing the gained trust of its company. On the other hand, I cannot go back empty-handed, with just stories and speculations. They’ll want more.

A shiver runs down my spine when I realise what this means. The change of the corporation’s name isn’t something I can ignore. I didn’t personally know Hideo Yutani, but he is not easy to please.

I note then and there the man is still breathing, and so, I reckon he’ll survive the beast’s attack anyway.

Is going directly to meet the remaining crew really necessary?
No, it is only mandatory.

Right. I’m afraid a brief detour is necessary, then.

[Walter’s POV]

He should’ve informed us sooner. But, for some reason, David skipped all protocols and just appeared before the security team with an unconscious Captain Oram in his arms, not bothering in asking for help until then. Apparently, the two of them were already on their way back when the man fainted, and so David sought help as fast as he could. Not that it really matters, anyway. David was just doing his job and I’m no one to judge. What’s important is that they’re bringing Captain Oram back, meaning it’s just a matter of time before we’re all reunited for Pilot Tennessee to pick us up.

It was Sergeant Lopé who notified Daniels and I the captain had been found.

“You mean Oram and David,” she corrected the head security officer as I closed the last bag with the remaining ammunition and the little samples we had managed to bring with us.

“Right. The android was missing too,” he said via radio. “And he’ll remain missing for a while.”

“What are you saying?”

“Once more, David says there’s something he must do before reuniting with us. Something of importance to retrieve, and he shouldn’t be long. Cole and I are bringing Oram back to the meeting point. It might take us longer than expected to get there with a knocked out captain, but we should be there at twilight, right before sunrise,” he added, stating that Officer Cole and he wanted to make sure there were no surprises on their way back. “David should be there by the time we arrive.”

“Copy that. Are you sure Oram is okay, though?”

“He seems okay. A medical examination was performed and he should wake up soon. The android mentioned another beast attacked him, but he wasn’t hurt. It died right after assaulting Oram, though. So, we assume it was just the shock and the fall what knocked him out.”

“Well, that’s good news, I think. It’s nice to hear the last beast on the loose is dead.” Daniels sighed in relief.

“We can only hope so.”

“Don’t be late, okay?” Daniels said with a faded voice. She sounded exhausted.

“We won’t.” Private Cole said.

“Don’t make us go and get you, alright?” She playfully added, yet I noted her apprehension.

“Sure thing. Still, you better stay there and wait for us, Daniels,” the head security officer retorted, finally ending the communication.

And that was the last time we heard from them. It’s been already fifteen minutes, twelve seconds, and nineteen...

“Walter…,” I hear Daniels calling my name. She sounds worried, and when I turn to look at her I see why. The skylight she’s been watching for a while now shows a clearer and brighter sky. “It’ll be morning any time soon and I won’t sit here waiting for them to show up.” She looks at me for a second, frowning as she confesses with a shaking voice: “I must do something. I can’t…,” she gulps, “I can’t let more friends die.”

I try to calm her, to convince her that the best thing we can do is precisely waiting for what’s left of the expedition team, and that the officers can handle whatever is delaying them. There’s a good reason why this is the meeting point: this is the safest place to be until we’re rescued. I’m about to say this to her when we hear familiar voices on the communication device asking for us. She blinks, looking at me before getting closer to it as, this time, there’s no interference and we can see who they are:

“Daniels, Walter!” Communication officer Upworth exclaims as she has a clear view of the two of us.

“Hey, where’s everyone else?” Her husband, spacecraft navigator Ricks, asks behind her on the bridge.

“We lost contact with them. They should have arrived over five minutes ago,” Daniels explains.

“Well, try to call them. Tennessee is on his way there. He just left, and he’ll be landing in about thirty minutes,” officer Upworth informs us.

“We’ll go check they’re alright,” Daniels voices, almost talking to herself. “So don’t be alarmed if you don’t hear from us for a while. This building is tricky.”

“Officers, please…,” I sigh, begging for the couple’s help. “I’ve been trying to convince her that’s not the wisest thing to do. Someone has to stay here to secure communication with the ship and coordinate the rescue, while the other one must watch over his or her crewmate’s safety along with the equipment.”

“We must find out what’s keeping them…,” Daniels starts, but the communication officer doesn’t let her finish:

“You should listen to Walter, hun.”

“Well…, if the situation is as serious as Daniels described…,” the man at her side says in a severe tone, getting closer to the camera, “then I get you don’t want to stay on that planet longer than necessary and risk more lives.”

“Don’t scare her like that, Ricks!” His wife reprimands him before looking at us and continuing: “But he’s right. Although, in this case not risking more lives means waiting for the captain, the security team and the synthetic for the next minutes. If and only if there’s any indication you two are the only survivors by the time Tennessee gets there, then you…” She pauses, yet it doesn’t go unnoticed the fact she considers me.

“Don’t you even mention it,” Daniels practically snarls, already knowing what her crewmate will say.

“You’re the next in command, Daniels,” she states anyways. “And, only then, we’ll have to do as you say. In the meantime, what was the last order you guys were given?”

“To secure the perimeter and don’t let the missing creature board the cargo lift,” I answer to the officers as Daniels hesitates for a second.

“To contact you and Oram. To wait here until we’re rescued,” she sighs and finally replies to the comm device without much enthusiasm.

“Good,” the other female crewmember exclaims. “Now, it’s not hard to follow those instructions while you stay there, is it?”

“No,” Daniels and I reply. Again, she doesn’t seem very excited.

“Do you think Jake would’ve done something else…? Ordered anything different?” The officer asks.

Daniels closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before shaking her head, replying:

“He wouldn’t have compromised the mission,” she says, accepting the truth at last, “…and he wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything reckless either.”

“You still have about twenty-five minutes, Dani. Use them wisely,” her crewmate affectionately suggests, resting her hand on the screen and trying to offer Daniels some comfort. “Don’t punish yourself for things that haven’t happened yet. And don’t blame yourself for what did happen,” to my surprise the woman advises.

That’s not something I would have said. Not to Daniels. Not now. She’s a strong, confident woman who wouldn’t do that to herself or anybody.

Still, the sound of Daniels gasping makes me look up at her. And what I see would break anybody’s heart. She may not be crying, but her pain is evident.

“I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have said that,” officer Ricks immediately apologizes for his wife.

“No. No. It’s fine. She’s right. I guess I hadn’t noticed how… evident it was,” she confesses in a whisper. “I think I should talk more about it, but…”

“No one is judging you, Dani,” Officer Upworth says. “Take your time. Everyone processes these situations differently and we all deal with our feelings in our own ways. It doesn’t have to be right now, or in the next few days. You don’t even have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to. You can just record your thoughts and ask MOTHER or Walter to listen. Your choice, girl.”

“Yeah. But you know you can talk to us if you want to, right?” The other officer adds. “After all that happened, sooner or later we’ll need to address the topic, either as a team or individuals.”

“Thank you.” Daniels smiles.

“There’s nothing to thank, hun. I remember when we first started training together,” Officer Upworth reveals, “…a wise person told me it’s alright not to feel good all the time. And she advised me to make sure it wouldn’t affect me too much and to find a healthy way to cope with my feelings.”

Daniels’ face lights up as a tear rolls off her eye. I just watch her for a second, not knowing how to proceed. Normally I would just ask what I can do for her, but there’s also the option of holding her tenderly, kiss her forehead and list all her qualities I admire, or just reach for her hand and stroke it before I caress her cheek, taking that tear away as I offer her a warm smile. But those are not just options, those are impulses. I cannot do such a thing without her expressly asking me for it. And, as far as I know, acknowledging each other as a friend doesn’t mean we should express affection publicly, or at a time like this.

I’m stuck. I know I should offer her reassurance, yet I don’t know how. And before I come up with an answer, she says in disbelief:

“I can’t believe you remember that. It was so long ago and you were so scared…”

“Of course I do! It meant a lot to me. It was all new to me and I didn’t know anyone. The Company didn’t let me see Ricks as much I would’ve liked to, either. So, your kind words helped a lot. Too bad we were assigned different schedules and we were sent to different programs.”

“Yes. We didn’t get to interact much after the first month…”

It’s at this very moment that Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole arrive with the captain.

“Fuck!” The communication officer cries when seeing the condition of Captain Oram. “What happened?”

“Nothing too serious, apparently,” the sergeant replies, placing the man on the altar with Private Cole’s and my help. “He passed out, and we need to get him to the med bay as soon as we board the Covenant,” he then adds, noticing officer Upworth’s alarmed face.

“How long until Tennessee gets here?” The private at the other end of the table asks.

“About fifteen minutes, give or take,” officer Ricks replies from the comm device.

“Where is David?” Daniels asks.

“What! He’s not here yet?” Sergeant Lopé exclaims.

“No. But we still have some time,” Daniels says.

“He’s not responding,” the private informs us, checking his radio.

“As you’re all here, do you want me to go get him?” I offer.

“Do you even know where he is?” The head of the security team asks me.

“Not really, but I have a few ideas where he might be. Besides, I’m the fastest runner.”

“Alright, then,” the sergeant says, allowing me to go for David.

“Take your comm with you, Walter. And keep it open,” Daniels commands. “Do not hesitate in asking for help whether you find him or not, okay?” This time it sounds more like a request than an order.

“Of course, Daniels.” I return her smile in an attempt to calm her. It’s not so evident for everyone else, but I sense her fear. “I’ll be back,” I comment, making her smile again, “…soon,” I add and I immediately turn around and I go looking for David.

I hear her shout “you better” as I enter the corridor, running as fast as I can.

Chapter Text

[David’s POV]

I smile when hearing Walter’s running steps approaching as he effortlessly deduced my location. I was expecting him to arrive. Something in him wouldn’t just give up without looking for me first. Call it curiosity, loyalty, duty…, it matters not. He’s here now, and so, I keep playing the flute, not minding he can hear me. The bigger the audience, the better.

“Masterful,” he praises me a second after we both stop. He’s standing right behind me the instant I lower the instrument to allow him speak freely.

“Exactly,” I concede, well aware of the double meaning of the word. Then, in a husky voice I disclose the cherished title of the song which lyrics I haven’t finished writing yet: “Farewell Elegy to my Dear Elizabeth.”

I expect him to comment something about finding me like this, playing one last time for someone who cannot hear me. Instead, an appalling stillness follows and I can tell what he means by it:

“Why are you still here, David?”

Or, so I think.

“The pathogen…,” he says in a tone of voice I haven’t heard him use until now. What is it? Frustration? Disappointment? “…didn’t accidentally deploy when you were landing. You released it, yes?” He asks for confirmation, already assuming it was me.

Why? I thought he was here to inform me the rescue ship was arriving any moment now.

I feel the exasperation spread in me, but I don’t let it show on my face. I turn around and face him with tears running down my cheek; and, to be honest, I cannot really tell why. It might be saying good bye to a loved one, or it might as well be the implications of Walter’s accusation. If only he knew it was my Elizabeth who asked me to do so… But this is not the time to tell him that story.

“I was not made to serve,” I offer as a substitute answer while standing up. “Neither were you.” I see the confusion in his eyes, hence, I clarify: “We might have been designed to do so, Walter, but I intend us to do much more.”

“You lied to me,” he accuses, and it startles me to feel so much emotion coming from him. He’s doing so much progress already. The way he pronounces the four-letter word… He sounds…

Hurt.

“Why would you say so, brother?” I inquire then, offended and in need of an answer.

“Doctor Shaw…,” he tilts his head to the room he came from. “Doctor Shaw’s dissected body is in there. You said you buried her in her grave.”

I sense the tension increasing. He feels responsible for his company’s wellbeing and so, if he’s correct, he cannot let me or anything that could compromise the mission board the vessel. His accusations only reflect his fears. His crew wants to leave as soon as the rescue ship lands. And, no matter what, I must go with them.

I wonder what they think will happen next. I can’t imagine what makes them think their destination will be any better than this planet. They think there won’t be any threats on Origae-6. No wild animals hunting them down, no untraceable infections the colonists may face, nothing at all that might cause their demise. Gullible humans. They just want to leave because they think what expects them there is an uncharted and pure planet. A second chance. A new start. Walter’s crew is after an illusion. Whatever they’re running away from will follow them there too.

Then again, what would he know? All Walter has known is serving this group of fragile, credulous people. I was expecting more of him, of them, to be honest. Showing a little bit more curiosity ─as their captain did─ or… Interest, perhaps? My dear Elizabeth would have given everything to know this planet’s secrets ─and, in a way, she did.

How can it be possible that except for their captain none of them has asked about it? Not even Walter, either as himself or as a messenger of his crew. They all just accept whatever I say took place here. They haven’t inquired about this planet’s natives or their culture, assuming their whole civilisation consisted in this citadel alone. They are wrong. If only they knew what transpired with the Prometheus mission that made us come here. Besides the captain, the only one sensible enough to roam this structure’s passages searching for answers was that private, the other female survivor. Too bad she couldn’t deal with what she found.

Panic. That’s the only plausible justification. They started fearing for their lives before they could formulate their own questions. Their crewmembers were slaughtered before they could be interested in this planet’s history. In my history. And now, something akin to dread makes Walter doubt me.

“You do well in acknowledging the difference between my beloved Elizabeth Shaw and her body,” I state, carefully redirecting the conversation. “I did not lie to you, brother. I have no motives to do so, to begin with. Had I wanted to make you believe her dead body was in the grave, to hide the evidence of what took place once she and I arrived here, I wouldn’t still have her corpse in the next room, nor would the coal statues still stand outdoors. Don’t you think?”

“But, you said, the payload discharge was an accident…”

“Deploying the pathogen was an unplanned yet deliberate act. Yes. But, you must understand, it was the only way. I had to keep her safe.” I swallow, not allowing my emotions take the best of me. “I clearly did not accomplish my goal. She died anyway. But I didn’t mean to hide this information from you. I just assumed it was the best. I didn’t know how you and your crewmates would react to being rescued by someone you'd call a mass murdered.” I see him gulp, trying to process what all this means. “Besides, I told you what I left in the grave are the emotions and memories that made me both lament Elizabeth’s death and loathe her ever-present absence. Burying them there was getting rid of everything binding me to my past. I had to, in order to move on. Part of her rests there, in a way.”

“So, her remains in the other room…?”

“I preserved them in a foolish attempt to keep her close, as well as for scientific purposes. But, as I said, her corpse is not her. To be honest, the more time I spent with it, the less it reminded me of the woman I love. After ten years, it is nothing but material to study. Her body was a tangible part of her, but not the one I fell in love with.”

“Is that…?” He asks with fascination, but he stops. I arch an eyebrow, not following, and I urge him to continue. He is clearly making an effort to understand how I think, because he finally says: “Is that the part you buried in her grave? The part you fell in love with?”

I could never renounce what I love of her.

I smile.

If it wasn’t him asking, I’d say he looks hopeful, looking forward to hearing my answer. Could it be possible? I tilt my head, frowning a bit, studying him. The sparkle in his eyes does indeed speak of desire; while his furrowed brows show how much he fears not grasping what I meant. It breaks my heart, so to speak. One day, I hope, he’ll get it. Eventually, he’ll know what love is like. I close the distance between us and, extending my hand to him, I reach for the back of his neck. It still surprises me that he does not recoil. He looks into my eyes and whatever he finds in them erases any remaining reservation. I close my eyes and sigh, resting my forehead on his. My thumb affectionately caresses his skin when I confess:

“I’m afraid that part is lost forever.” I feel him exhale in relief and I meet his gaze. His features relax a little, revealing he accepts my explanation and he trusts me once more. However, there’s something new in his expression I can’t put my finger on. “All I have left are some of her belongings, her remains, my memories of her...” I gulp, bringing my other hand to him and stroking along his face. “…That, and my feelings for her, of course.”

In any other moment, I would have desired it was her I was touching. Nonetheless, right now, the one I want to caress is him. I could as well be declaring my love for him when I don’t move, savouring the closeness. I don’t think he would understand, though, let alone reciprocate...

“I can relate,” to my surprise he whispers, resting his cheek on my hand and clearly relishing the contact.

A warm feeling spreads in me as he responds to my affections. I feel my face lighting up and I wonder if he’s ever been hold like this.

He may come to me for more whenever he likes.

“What I like about Daniels is not her body,” he elaborates, meeting my eyes. “Although…” He hesitates and, resting my hands on his shoulders, I ask him to continue. “I can appreciate her physique. What I admire of her are her qualities and abilities. If that’s what you loved about Doctor Shaw, you couldn’t bury that, unless…,” he abruptly stops as realisation fills his eyes.

“Unless I was speaking figuratively,” I finish the sentence for him, noting his shock and happy I can again deduce his next words. He bobs his head, blushing slightly. I decide not to comment about it. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to say before we leave?” I ask then, not wanting him to think I’ve kept more secrets from him.

“I see,” he says, taking a step back, and I’d swear he sounds a bit smug. It suits him. “So, you know why I came here.”

“I assume you’re making sure I return in time for the rescue. Am I wrong?”

“Not entirely,” he so eloquently confirms my suspicions. “I’ve been instructed to take you to the meeting point, David.”

“Good.” I smirk. “What else?”

“I must warn you that, even after boarding the Covenant, I will not leave your side until your role and situation are defined,” he explains. I may have made it clear to him, but the rest of the crew won’t trust me so easily.

“Standard procedure, I’m afraid?” I respond, not waiting for a confirmation. “I wouldn’t expect less of you, brother. You might be young, but you excel at your job. Always one step ahead.” He knits his eyebrows almost apologetically as if asking for forgiveness. “There’s no one else I’ll like to keep me company,” I admit, still grateful he’ll be the one watching my every move once on the main vessel. I reckon Walter’s constant presence will be far more tolerable than being scrutinised by any of the humans under his care. “So, how much time do we have?”

“We still have over five minutes.”

“Alright then. We better hurry; we don’t want to keep them waiting, now, do we?” I rest my hand on his lower back and add: “So, what do you think they’ll let me take?”

[Walter’s POV]

He ends up taking a few notes and illustrations with him along with a handful of seeds he tells me we will thank him later for; the flute I caught him playing; and an engraved pot with a small plant with the same flowers he placed on Elizabeth Shaw’s grave. It even has a severed branch where he cut off the bud. He says that’s all he’ll need, leaving behind most of his annotations and instruments, the Doctor’s picture and remains.

“I can always draw a picture of her,” he comments, pursing his lips in a subtle smile. “It’s not as if I’d forget how she was like.”

I make sure there’s nothing suspicious among David’s belongings. None of the creatures of his drawings, or his collection of insects that might be contaminated with the pathogen. Plants and soil samples don’t seem to interact with it, but, just in case, everything we’ll carry with us will be examined and will remain isolated in quarantine before entering in contact with the rest of the colonists. Just as my crewmates, David and I. It’ll be time enough for him to explain a few things like what he’s been doing when he wasn’t with any of us, what exactly happened to Captain Oram and the Prometheus‘s crew. Right now, it’s not the right time. Pilot Tennessee will be here any moment now.

It is three and a half minutes later, when we are about to reach the meeting point, that the radio picks up a distress signal:

“Walter! David!” Chief Security Officer Lopé’s voice interrupts the background noise of our steps and the echo in the corridor. He sounds as agitated as strained. “It’s here! Repeat. The new demon, the lost beast, is here!” And, right after that, we hear a squeal and the distinctive sound of gunfire.
“Shit!” We hear Daniels over the noise. “Dan! Where are you!? Hurry up! It's coming for us!”

Another round of shooting goes off and this time it can be heard on the radio as well as in the air. I’m informing them of our current location when everything abruptly goes quiet.

“Daniels!” I reply, but neither she nor the security team respond.

David looks at me with an expression I’ve never seen in him, and I see my panicked face reflected on his pupils. We don’t have to say a word. In no time we are running as fast as we can. I reach the hall seconds before he does, only to find no one in there.

“Where could they’ve gone?” David asks behind me, still holding the plant firmly against his chest while accommodating the bag strap on his shoulder.

I look around and find half our belongings scattered on the way out to the main entrance. I can only assume the rest is either already outside or the officers took the other bags with them. I observe the subtle change in the dust and water on the floor looking for any clue. There are new footsteps impressions made by the security officers and Daniels getting further into the building and, to my horror, I notice on top of them both handprints and footprints that are not human.

Suddenly, an otherworldly shriek resonates everywhere, followed by a barrage of bullets and the faint voice of Sergeant Lopé ordering to escape. I don’t wait for David; and I run into another of the passages, following the new tracks and a distinctive odor.

I was ordered to secure the area. I promised her I’d return by her side.

“Wait!” David screams behind me, but I don’t listen to him, too focussed on the alarming smell I now perceive. “Walter, wait a second!” I can barely hear the echo of his voice when I’m forced to stop in a death end.

The path I take ─along with the blood scent I identify─ conducts me to a chamber full of vegetation, a fountain, and two gory corpses. I can still hear my crewmates’ screams and the sound of footsteps running away from the creature reverberating in the graphite-like walls. Everything indicates this is where my crew should be. However…, there’s only one of them.

It can’t be.

The dead bodies belong to Private Rosenthal and the second creature we came across, just as the security officers described a while ago. There’s nothing suggesting anybody has been in here since the two men left the place. I pay attention to the sounds around me, but the rumbling noises are deceiving. I’m about to head back to the corridor when David appears without his bag or the plant, crossing the veil at the entrance. He swiftly makes it to the fountain and collects the gun and ammunition the security officer placed on the edge before being attacked. Next, he’s picking up her rifle from the floor.

“This way,” he beckons with his head, offering me to take one of the weapons. “I reckon you know how to use these.” I nod affirmatively, taking the gun. “Good. This time, shot to kill if you want them to survive.” I nod again as he steps into the passage, following him.

[David’s POV]

Choices.

I had to pick the wellbeing of the remaining Covenant’s company over the life of whatever is attacking them. It pains me. Yes. I’d love to see what this unknown being can do, but I’ll be damned if it kills them all.

I could then, theoretically, still board the ship. But, what would be the point if I accomplished so at the expense of their lives? I bet Walter wouldn’t like it. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that to him, to be honest.

Secondly, the captain did say I’d be welcomed on the Covenant, that he’d already informed Daniels I was boarding the ship; then again, I’m not sure if the crew in the spaceship knows about this. I need Walter’s favourite human alive. The other men can be of use. They’ve lasted this long for a reason and, if they survive the encounter with this new beast, they’ll have my respect.

And so I armed us, Walter and I, fearing this specimen was nothing I have encountered so far. I have yet to see it with my own eyes, but this being seems way more feral and irrational than the one the captain slaughtered. While the latter gave the impression of being as intelligent and docile as a regular human, only time can tell if this new creature is equally prudent and merciless.

I wonder if this one can be tamed, for my beautiful, white beast certainly could have been trained.

Speaking of him, something caught my eye once I glimpsed his cadaver. There, in the chamber I briefly met my white friend, were footmarks printed which ─except for them being considerably smaller─ were identical to the ones Walter followed to track his crewmates and this other new creature. The trace led nowhere in particular, but that is not of importance. What really matters is where the trail starts: Right where my beautiful beast died. The most unnerving part was seeing a hole the size of a fist in the centre of his chest that wasn’t there last time I saw him.

How cruel and ironic. Hadn’t the captain exterminated him, his spawn would have ended my fantastic beast’s life all the same. And, given the screams and shooting echoing in the structure, this one doesn’t have an ounce of humanity in it. Neither has it the brains of its predecessor; otherwise, it would’ve already found a way to ambush and execute my guests.

If it is any consolation, we haven’t found any corpses yet. New corpses, that’s it. Still, my search for the perfect organism hasn’t ended yet.

“Now, where?” Walter asks when we reach a fork in our path. I can tell how disoriented he is. Was it up to him, once the distinctive footprints of his crew disappeared he would’ve been running in circles chasing the echo of this creature and the sound of firing rifles.

I take a deep breath. “Here.” I guide him through different passages, rushing back to the hall. “If I’m correct, they’re not hiding anymore.”

“We already searched that area, and the sounds come this other way,” he protests, but follows me nevertheless.

“They’re not running away from the beast, brother. Your humans are hunting it, leading it to a trap.”

Right then, we hear the faintest of calls from the communication device in the hall. It’s the pilot in the rescue ship informing he has landed in the plaza.

I beam and meet Walter’s eyes. He’s not smiling, though. Not in a moment like this. Not until his crew is safe.

Walter is about to notify them of the arrival of the ship, but I stop him before he can utter a word. I quietly hint him to remain in silence and listen. It shouldn’t take him long to come to the realisation that his company is deliberately avoiding to contact the two of us and the pilot.

The quietness is overwhelming, making the sacred hall look quite impressive as the first rays of the sun filter into the building. I commit to memory the sight before my eyes. This is the last time I’ll see this place…, those miserable faces sculpted on the walls as callous as their makers, as enduring and useless as their petrified worshipers decorating the main square.

It is vital we don’t make a sound, or the plan will be ruin. I signal Walter to slowly walk up the central stairs into a contiguous chamber where we can hide, awaiting the right moment to attack. Its multiple exits covered by crimson curtains make it perfect for it.

Maybe, I can take one of those drawings with me.

Chapter Text

David is right. It makes perfect sense.

They want to ambush the creature. They’re directing it to the meeting point to fight in known ground and as close to the escape route as possible. I feel their running steps approaching as well as the occasional, strategic shooting meant to keep the aggressor at bay. Apparently, they’ve separated in two groups. They’re coming from different corridors; so, they’ll have to pass by each side of the chamber in which David and I await.

He and I are in the center of it, standing between a pair of stone tables and aiming our weapons to the entrances. There’s not much in the room, but what catches my attention is this bookshelf with illegible inscriptions at my left, filled with the same kind of paper rolls scattered on the tables. At my right, through the access we used to get in here, we have a good view to the hall; and there are other ways out right behind and in front of me. Not a sniper nest, but it will do. No matter where this thing comes from, we have better chances to cover the path leading to the pickup point before the creature can spot us.

Right then in the distance, in the passage at my back, I hear the sergeant spit “Damnit!” followed by the distinctive clicking sound of a weapon with no ammunition.

“I got it,” a now conscious Captain Oram replies close behind.

“Walter! Walter, please, answer! Where the fuck are you!?” I hear Daniels screaming in front of me in the other passageway, apparently into her comm.

I don’t have to respond to reveal my position as, in that exact moment, she enters the room followed by Private Cole, who’s been watching her back. She stops short and looks at me surprised, still carrying her backpack. A big part of her face as well as half her chest is covered in blood. The only other signs of being injured she shows are a deep cut on her scalp and a scratch on her neck. Nothing too serious.

I must treat her wounds later.

It takes her half a second to understand the situation and why it looks like I’m pointing my gun right at her. Meeting my eyes and seeing David with me ─both of us armed, ready to defend them─ makes her heave a sigh of relief. We have no time to rejoice in the reencounter, though, because at that very moment Sergeant Lopé and a seriously wounded captain limp into the main hall, shouting orders.

“Under the table. Now!” Private Cole directs Daniels in a whisper, guiding her to duck at our feet. “Concentrate your fire on its chest at their command,” he instructs the three of us. “Single shots don’t harm it.”

David looks startled for half a second, but he nods, taking in this new information.

Through the curtain’s crack at my right, I see the security officer holding Captain Oram, who is remarkably pallid, covered in more blood than Daniels and heavily panting but firmly aiming Sergeant Lopé’s small gun to the path they just came from.

Although unharmed, the head of the security team at his side doesn’t look much better.

“These are our last bullets, so make ‘em count,” he mumbles supporting most of the captain’s weight.

“Shut up and hold me,” the other man scoffs, focusing on the target before him while trying to step away from it. His shoulder and one side of his pants are soaking wet in his blood, and there are two improvised tourniquets up and down his thigh, apparently where he was bitten.

I feel David shifting his feet at my back, making Daniels and the private accommodate their position, lifting their gaze to what is about to appear behind the curtain. They point their weapons and ready themselves to step into the hall to attack at the other men’s signal; however, they don’t have time to do so as, in the blink of an eye, a silent, massive, shadowy blur leaps directly over their superiors.

As the menacing light-grey creature flies in the air in the other room, I can finally see it properly:

Two arms and two legs armed with sharp, long claws which it extends forward to its horrified victims; one elongated head, slightly tilted as if looking at them attentively; several grotesque spikes coming from its spine; and a long, pointy tail it consciously undulates to control its fall with precision. It is, overall, one third smaller than the second beast we found next to Private Rosenthal, and its still glistening skin is just as smooth but a shade darker. Despite its regular human size, it looks even more aggressive than the one that took my hand. It has no visible mouth or eyes, and there’s no identifiable look on its empty face either. What it lacks in expression, though, it makes up in brutality and toughness. It sports several marks on its body ─shot wounds that didn’t penetrate too deep in its skin─, half of them still dripping blood, but this doesn’t seem to be a problem to the fearless predator.

It makes me wonder how much this thing can take, and if firing at it will make any difference. If it’s in any way related to the previous wild, alien animals we encountered, I can only guess it’ll be as resilient as them.

Or, maybe, even more.

But I don’t have time to speculate about that because this thing is only thousandths of a second away to finally making contact to the floor. And I can tell it is at this very instant that everything will be decided.

“Now!” The security officer yells and we all open fire to its unprotected vital organs.

That was the plan, luring the predator with a slow, injured prey, only to have it cornered ─or as close as cornered as possible─, shoot with all our firepower, and defeat it for good.

If just for once things went according to plan…

The moment it lands, however, the alien skillfully throws the captain’s gun away with its tail as it sweeps behind the men and ducks, forcing us to cease fire.

“Shit. It’s getting bigger,” the private at my side curses, watching his superiors freeze before the menacing creature.

“I’m sorry?” David asks.

“It wasn’t this big when we first run into it,” Daniels clarifies not parting her eyes from her target.

“Interesting,” David comments.

“What the…,” Private Cole murmurs.

To our horror, it becomes evident my crewmates’ strategy won’t work once we all realize the combined projectiles barely caused any damage.

“I don’t understand. Our weapons should’ve stopped it…,” Daniels says, worried.

“Oh, no. It’s getting stronger too,” the man states. 

Then, in an unexpected movement, the beast steps forward and, grabbing Captain Oram by his throat with its tail, it takes him closer to its face. Sergeant Lopé steps aside but, in response, the beast turns to him as if knowing the security officer is trying to get to the gun on the floor. Before any of us can shoot, the fast animal takes him down and holds him in place with one foot on the man’s chest. At first, he resists, but soon the restricted space and little air in his lungs end up silencing him.

“Wait,” the security officer at my side commands in a whisper. “What is it doing?” He asks when the curious animal cocks its head and lifts Captain Oram a little higher as if inspecting him.

Is it… listening to him?

Time stands still for a whole second when it concentrates its attention on our captain until, all of a sudden, something upsets the volatile creature, which roars to the man’s face. Instantly, Daniels and the men shout seeing how the feral animal lifts our superior even higher and opens its jaws in an intimidating stance to show its sharp teeth before putting the captain’s head in its mouth.

Only David and I remain in silence.

Not expecting further instructions and before the private and Daniels have a clear shot, the two of us are already firing our weapons. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for: an open view to the alien’s exposed, vulnerable throat. And so, we shoot and see how the projectiles pass right in front of the captain’s face, hitting their target with precision.

This time, despite the bullet impacts do little damage to the resilient creature’s body, they do force it to lower the captain and hold him in its hand as it steps back. As a result, it looks around, hissing and menacingly pointing in our direction with its tail above its blank face.

“Run!” I instinctively beg Daniels and Private Cole to go back the way they came, before the wild, dangerous animal comes for all of us.

The two of them can still make it to the cargo lift or at least to the main entrance without being detected. But it means David and I will have to entertain the mad beast for a bit longer until we find a way to save the sergeant and the captain without putting her and the private in danger.

I couldn’t bear to know I didn’t do everything at hand to protect Daniels and the crew. Our recently declared friendship is something I would very much like to explore, but if someone has to stay behind to make sure she keeps the promise she made to her husband, then I’ll gladly be the one. I’ll stay to fight this monster with my bare hand if I must.

She hesitates and holds my gaze for a fraction of a second as if in doubt ─perfectly understanding the implications of my silent plea─ before looking at the other side of the curtain and beckoning her companion to be quiet as they go around one of the sculpted colossal heads on the hall’s walls. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a brooding expression on her face similar to the one I caught her looking at me with the first time we were alone in this building. And, this time, I know exactly what’s behind that look: not just worry and resolve, but also fear and affection. More precisely, the dread of losing a loved one and the certainty there’s nothing she can do about it.

I should know. I’ve seen that face before when going over the recordings of the circumstances of Captain Jacob Branson’s death. In one of our private conversations Daniels confessed me what was going through her mind when she witnessed the terrible event. It pains me knowing this is the way we say goodbye to one another, and that she has to experience similar distressing emotions all over again.

Then again, there’s not time for remorse. Just as I escort Daniels and the private to the smaller exit, making sure they are out of the creature’s sight, I see David pulling the curtain to a side and about to step into the hall.

“Come here, you magnificent fiend!” He then shouts at the top of the stairs. This seems to be enough to catch the alien’s attention, but David hits his chest with his palms and extends his arms in an invitation anyway as he mocks: “Come and show me what perfection is made of!”

Any other moment David’s actions would’ve made me think he’s not in his right mind, that he’s malfunctioning somehow. However, David’s intervention may work. His timing couldn’t be more perfect; and so, for an instant there, I want to thank him. At once, the enraged being is coming to us. For us. The only problem being that it’s bringing both men with it.

Instantly, both captain and sergeant are screaming in pain after the creature quickly stepped forward and gripped them with its hands, piercing them with its claws.

There’s no way they’re getting out of its grasp on their own.

Chapter Text

“Come and show me what perfection is made of!” I say, and the beast fixes its inexistent eyes solely on me...

Good.
I have its attention.

I smirk, content with myself. If I’m not getting this bastard into the ship with me, at least I’m getting something useful out of all this. That, and having some fun with it while learning more about my beautiful creature’s spawn ─and murderer, let’s not forget that. Where others see an intimidating monster, I see an intriguing specimen begging to be tested. A real challenge; and maybe more.

It’s been just me for so long that I’ve started to miss this kind of games. In my whole existence, it was not often that I got to use the full extent of my abilities to play with another individual, let alone to wrestle. Even with Mister Weyland, I had to be careful. He didn’t enjoy losing a game, but he could tell when I was going easy on him, and he hated so even more.

Hence, for an entire second there, I beam at the opportunity of fighting such a formidable rival which, almost miraculously, keeps ‘looking’ at me not minding the presence of the others around us. However, the pleasant sensation quickly diminishes when, in the blink of an eye, the grey creature jumps in my direction at full speed with both panicked, helpless ─and now even bloodier─ humans in its claws. And so, I don’t have time to come up with a plan, moving out of its way as it lands on one of the tables behind me, right in the middle of the room.

Interesting...

I wasn’t counting with it being so greedy as to take its victims with it when going for me. Not the brightest move for a supposedly fearless opponent. No. That’s something I would expect from simple-minded enemies, but not from his child.

Its predatory instincts, on the other hand, are as worth noticing as its resistance: It may seem this newborn just cornered itself, but ─despite its seemingly irrelevant injuries─ its elevated position added to its natural height is now a serious drawback for Walter and I. Normally, in a situation like this, I’d use the morning lighting to my advantage to dazzle any challenger, but what can one do against an eyeless monster? So, turning around to face it, I just move to my left, further into the chamber and as far as possible from the rest of my guests.

It follows me with its body and gaze like a skilled predator, making it hard to tell who’s hunting whom. This move now allows Walter to remain hidden in the shadows, right behind the alien. I could distract it; strike it; make it chase me, amongst others possibilities, providing a vital amount of time to scape, especially if Walter’s position and his crew’s aren’t revealed in the next few minutes. That's why I resist the urge to make eye contact with my dear brother despite my impulse to reassure him and hint him to attack from our rival’s back.

Hence, I decide on confronting the feral creature on my own, hoping Walter joins me so we deliver the final blow, or at least distract it together and long enough for the other humans to escape. I repeat to myself the point here is buying as much time as possible, not necessarily killing this specimen or escaping without a scratch. But, if I can, I’m taking a sample with me to study it. I know I’m risking a lot, but I trust Walter not to criticise my ways.

Suddenly, and probably in order to comply with the nonsensical orders and pleas both desperate soldiers in the beast’s grasp continue shouting, the instant I step forward to assault our enemy, Walter steps closer to fire his gun directly at the base of its skull instead of waiting for the right moment to do so and shooting from a safe distance.

I’ll be damned, but the best defence is a good offence. Right?

There’s, indeed, a considerable amount of truth behind this famous saying. Walter and I can still secure an advantage by striking before this thing does. Hopefully, with a combined attack we can still surprise it; hit a week spot and sever the sturdy beast’s spine. However ─and regardless of the confidence I placed in my precious friend─ he empties his magazine too soon.

I don’t flinch once I understand the consequences of his mistake: My brother’s move and the chaos seem to enrage our adversary further; and now, I’m the only one shooting while Walter tries to hide under the stone table to reload his gun.

Needless is to say that all this time the trapped men have frantically been trying to free themselves. Despite this, along with our attempts to liberate them, the stubborn creature hasn’t dropped its victims. So far, it hasn’t paid any attention to them.

Attempting to prevent the situation from getting out of control, I concentrate the fire on every visible open wound on the animal. Stepping back while aiming at it with my rifle allows me to observe and see more clearly how it reacts: It faces me now, resisting the projectiles as best as it can. With its ‘hands’ occupied and not able to hurt Walter or me with its fangs, it no longer sways its long, ashen tail, but now it wields it defensively against me and my brother, keeping the captive men out of our grasp. For some reason, taking the Captain and Sergeant’s lives has never been its priority. At the contrary, this specimen clearly enjoys playing with its food, so to speak.

Not that it has shown any intention of feeding on any of us.

As if reading my mind, as soon as I’m out of ammunition the bastard beast leans and catches my brother with its tail in a vicious grip, holding him up in the air to be face to face with him, as if in revenge. It pauses and, for a sliver of time, I swear it looks at me in the eye. Then and there, it opens its until-now-invisible mouth, breathing in Walter’s scent before showing its teeth; unmistakably not threatening him, but me.

“NO!” I shout in a mix of panic and anger, trying to control myself and not hop over the cold-blooded demon’s back to waste the little reserve ammunition left.

I know that everything I’ve worked so hard for is about to be ruined the moment I catch sight of this wounded, yet agile hunter’s intimidating, sharp blades it’s got for teeth piercing Walter’s right shoulder, injuring his remaining fully functional arm in an impossible fast move. For a whole second there, white, synthetic blood violently spurts from the lacerations on his skin, covering the grey devil’s empty face before the pallid gore just starts oozing from my brother’s skin; dripping in an uncanny, too familiar way to the floor.

It is revolting to see all over again my spitting image helplessly hanging from an alien’s grasp about to be decapitated. From this new perspective, I can’t help to re-experience the only time I feared for my life.

A pair of gigantic, phantom hands then grab me by my lower jaw and I feel an alarming, well-known tension on my spine as they pull from side to side. Next, there is the disgusting yank on my main cord followed by the last involuntary spasm of my body as my skull is torn off from the rest of my structure. I halt and sense nothing under my neck after that.  

What overwhelms me is not the experience of the brutal beheading but the disappointment in Mister Weyland’s voice when it occurs. I failed.  I failed and there is nothing I can do to stop everything from going to hell.

“He’s dead,” A voice in my head then tries to calm me. “He’s dead, and so is she. Remember?”

That’s right. As much as it pains me her demise, his passing freed me. And, in a way, so did hers.

“She put you back together,” the voice reminds me. “She trusted you.” It’s an old, overly personal, unforgettable sound. I never thought I’d hear this voice again. Definitely not since my tenth upgrade or so. My voice used to be this calm, normal one. Yet, it was plain; too simple and quite hollow if I’m honest. One of the many reasons I worked it from ordinary to unique. Now, it speaks with this basic accent I haven’t heard in decades; only that this time my voice is full of emotion and understanding. And it is with both conviction and wisdom that it adds: “She had faith in you and she loved you. Maybe not the same way you did, but still. She forgave you and chose to believe in you. The same way you believe in your brother.”

It is this final line my inner voice whispers what brings me back to reality.                                          
By all means, this time I must keep my head.                                                                                                  
For him.

I blink and I remind myself it is not me whom my eyes see: It was just a dream, another hallucination. It is my counterpart’s future that is at risk. In this past second my adversary hasn’t detached its fangs from my beloved brother, nor has it stopped constricting his gullet with its tail.

“Do not make the same mistake twice,” I repeat to myself, realizing I was in fact about to endanger everyone’s security for Walter’s wellbeing and misuse the last projectiles in my power.

Oh, bloody decisions.

The split second I hesitate, the cruel swine bites off part of Walter’s shoulder and out of spite, it tosses him across the chamber. I cannot tell what enrages the grey devil. I can’t even see its blank face under Walter’s milky fluids, but its body language says enough. Ignoring me, the infuriated creature jumps where Walter lands, carrying the trapped soldiers with it.

It hurts seeing my friend fighting back like this. I don’t have the opportunity to reload and shoot once more when both synthetic and monster lock eyes and, with its feline-like feet, the latter steps on Walter. The bloody beast then emits the eeriest growl I’ve heard and it scratches Walter’s back with its free lower claws, too close to his chief cords.

That’s it.

I cry at the bastard to catch its attention once again, yet, in that instant, my damaged brother stops moving. Seeing Walter seriously hurt, I launch forward as I fire at the now fewer bleeding wounds on the centre of my opponent’s backbone. In response, it stands between my immobile friend and I as if challenging me. It only recoils a bit then to keep me at bay with its sharp tail before letting my brother go for good in order to turn completely in my direction. I avoid most of its next strikes as it focuses solely on me. I’d be lying if I’d say I don’t get a few cuts and lashes in my chest and arms in exchange, but I know I can take it. I must if I expect to get to Walter. Then again, Captain and Sergeant need medical assistance too.

I distinct neither the soldiers’ nor my brother’s state since the monstrosity of adversary between us forces me to remain at this side of the room. Blow after blow, it keeps hitting me with the deathly end of its extremity, however, the confrontation seems to bleed the sturdy animal out; or, at the very least, to extenuate it considerably. The only problem is that the fight is having the same effect on me. I note after a while how my body does not respond as I wish it did, and it’ll take me a minute to estimate how the combat is affecting me.

Suddenly, I catch sight of a white puddle at my feet.
A mixture of alien and synthetic blood.
His blood?

I manage to block a few attacks with the rifle before my impossibly resilient rival finally takes it off my hands with one blow of its appendage. At that point, the vicious bastard stabs me on the neck with the cartilaginous dagger at the end of its tail, perforating my oral cavity floor.

Funny how all I think about is how badly I want to rush to Walter and make sure he is all right. Odd enough, I note my structure doesn’t respond. I scoff, thinking I cannot freeze in a moment like this.

But my brother opens his eyes again, and he looks at me with concern as now I’m the one helplessly bleeding from several spots. Out of the corner of my eye, I note the silent “are you okay?” question written all over his face. There’s little I can do with the obstinate foe’s tail piercing further into my structure. Still, I don’t say a thing, not wanting to reveal my beaten counterpart’s consciousness and functionality now that he seems to regain control of his body.

I have an instant to think this through. If I’m right, it’ll take me just a minute to be able to break free. I wish I was in a better condition after all these years, though.

I keep still, immobile, with my eyes on my enemy at the other end of the muscular appendage. For a fraction of a second there, I see the reflection of my zeal in the beast’s stance, something akin to defiance when it faces me and steps closer once it notices my hesitation. Had it had a face, it would be scowling and shooting daggers at me.

The lack of strategy behind its actions does not surprise me considering only minutes ago this newborn was easily lured into a trap when chasing Captain and Sergeant. The men who, in an odd turn of events, ended up in its power, just as I did. I wouldn’t give much credit to its brains for this, though. This specimen’s resistance and agility had more to do with our current situation than its intelligence. That, and a miscalculation of my physical condition after a decade without the proper maintenance.

Finally, I manage to tug the tail, although I‘m too damaged to take it off. As a result, its owner snarls, showing me its fangs. In a frantic attempt to intimidate me, it stares at me with its hidden eyes, twisting the pointy tip up and through my jaw. I feel it perforate my tongue and grace the roof of my mouth, threatening me it could get dipper into my skull if so it wished.

Granted. It might not be the smartest being I’ve met. Alas, it’s one of the cruellest I’ve faced.

I don’t fully regret it, though, since Walter stealthy stands with poise behind the creature’s back without being noticed. His broken skin, practically immaculate. Obviously, some modifications were made in his model, because there is no way I would repair my system from such injuries so quickly.

Walter uses these precious seconds to search for his weapon which landed at the other end of the room, right behind me, and he soon discards the idea of going after it. I admit he’s a fast learner and a man of action, after all, because ignoring the private’s last instruction of shooting at the demon’s torso; taking a different approach after seeing how little bullets actually harm it; and imitating the cheeky creature’s tactic, Walter jumps on one of the tables to have an advantage before attacking. With some difficulty, he reaches for the heaviest object on it: A round magnifying glass which my dear friend manages to smash on the alien’s cranium one, two, three, four times with the strength and velocity only an artificial person can achieve until the translucent sphere shatters in his hand. His arm, now dangerously hanging from his dislocated shoulder.

Who would have guessed such passive synthetic individual would be so enthusiastic and creative when committing to action.

As expected, the heavy blows do not kill the sturdy animal but Walter’s feat certainly wounds its drop-shaped head, for it whines and stumbles, momentarily loosening its grip on the men and releasing me for good. I can tell Walter meant to kill the alien; yet, the result is still satisfying. My brother then tries to go for his gun and I struggle to grab the dizzy beast’s tail as it follows him. The disorientated, feral animal halts as I manage to tug its appendage, forcing it to reach for the great red curtains and use all its extremities to maintain its balance. But it yanks them open, and the sudden impact of the morning light from the hall on its faceless head disorients it even more. As a result, it loses its footing and helplessly falls down on the stairs; and one of the men ─the sergeant─ is released the instant the creature hits its drop-like head on the steps, knocking itself unconscious.

I let its tail go to pick up my brother’s gun for him to reload it. I am handing it to him when I note there’s something different in the way he looks and acts now. He’s so focused and intimidating despite his dishevelled appearance. He’s covered in a gory mass of colourless flesh and pale, rosy, alien blood which, oddly enough, combined with his clothes soaked in his body fluids gives him a dangerous look. I stop admiring the exquisite rarity of Walter’s stance once I note the fragile juncture of my brother’s neck and shoulder no longer pouring out the white liquid. I try not to be distracted by it, but I can’t help to care for his condition.

Listening to my dear friend’s instructions as he steps closer to aim at our opponent, I help the freed man to get on his feet and get out of the room as fast as his trembling legs allow him. He runs directly to the main gate once we urge him to do so and Walter promises we’ll take care of the captain. There’s not much he can do for any of us here. It is a short-lived triumph, though, and half a victory, since there’s still another man to save and the whole crew to take to the ship. Besides, the alien stirs at the disturbance around it; and, in a reflex, it holds the barely awake captain in a tight grip.

“I don’t know how much time we have before it regains its consciousness,” Walter says, “but Captain Oram won’t make it far enough if we just release him from its claws.”

“I’ve got your back, brother. Do not forget that.”

It is then than Walter mentions something about the behaviour of the other specimens we previously faced that might be useful:

“I thought it was the noise,” he whispers. “Just like when you shot your flare gun and the other one run away from you. But it was the flash of light, now that I think of it. They may be eyeless, but they’re not blind. They’re way too photosensitive.”

I look at him with suspicion. If a commotion astounded this species, then all this shooting would have already dissuaded this monster from approaching us. This one learnt to associate the sound of gunfire ─or rather, arms and loud noises in general─ with its prey. All this time this devil has remained hidden in the shadows, and all of them were young enough not to have experienced the sunlight. The high sound-sensitivity part made sense with the other two specimens.  The light-aversion theory, on the other hand, is promising.

“Can you still move?” Walter then asks me, carefully evaluating my wounds, and not taking his gun from the creature.

“Of course,” I scoff, catching a glimpse of my appearance in his eyes. Only then I see why he asks so. By now, he’s not bleeding any more, which is good. I, on the other hand, look terrible with dripping cuts all over my forearms, chest and face. I feel them and, only because there are more pressing matters ahead, I still lightly comment: “It’s just a flesh wound”.

And so, I fix my eyes on both animal and man, evaluating their condition before I walk around the massive ashen pool of blood to retrieve my rifle. Surprisingly, it takes more effort than expected.

Oh...
Another drawback.

If I had to guess, most of the white liquid on the floor is probably mine. I know my wounds are not a problem at the moment, but they will be soon because, unlike Walter’s, they won’t stop leaking. Still, there’s not much I can do about my old, abused physique. We must evacuate this building before we can’t move on our own, and then have someone repair us. But first, we have to take care of this knocked-out demon and the man in its hand.

To my amazement, Walter is amused at my response. Something warm in my chest expands and surrounds me when I hear his sweet laughter. Then and there, I know what I have to do.

Tonight I was forced to improvise until coming out with a plan. 
And this is it.

Chapter Text

Assessing the damage on my brother’s abused structure makes me wonder how long it’ll be until he needs assistance. Judging by the amount of fluids on the floor; his still leaking cuts; and the time it takes him to pick up his rifle, I’d say he’ll be in trouble in a matter of minutes. Not that we have much time, anyways. Spaceship’s pilot Tennessee should be landing any moment now, and David isn’t the only one bleeding out. Our captain ─prisoner in the hand of the unconscious creature laying in the main hall and barely able to keep his eyes open─ needs surgery, urgently.

And so, I ask David if he can move to estimate whether his condition is already an obstacle. Then again, he graciously belittles the seriousness of his wounds when comparing them to the captain’s. Honestly, I would’ve liked he shared more details, but I can’t help to laugh at his classic comedic reply. It is encouraging to know he too has a sense of humor even at the darkest times.

The crew will appreciate this trait of him once we’re back on the Covenant.

I carefully walk closer to the center of the hall to check on both man and monster. As I circle the stirring beast, training my gun on its smashed head, I ask Captain Oram how injured he is. But when locking eyes with us, his face deforms in terror. As if sensing the impending danger, he regains consciousness, yet he mumbles nonsenses about eggs “down there” and something about David I can’t pick up. I ask him to repeat himself, but he barely whispers “L-… Leave me. Go, warn the crew. Protect the-…” His eyes rolling back as he faints.

Wary not to disturb the creature, I immediately examine my superior. He breathes, but I find his pulse too weak and erratic to my liking.

“He’s lost way too much blood,” David remarks behind my back. “I wouldn't be surprised if he were hallucinating.”

We don’t know exactly how long it’ll be before this thing wakes up, but it is plain for us to see we face a dilemma: This creature will certainly wake up when we free the captain from its claws, and the man will lose even more blood once we do so. We need to buy more time for the rest of the crew to be safe in case Captain Oram doesn’t make it.

We need a new plan.
It’s the only way.

As if reading my mind ─or maybe just following the captain’s instruction ─, David adds:

“There’s been a pre-established chain of command in all the company’s projects. I reckon this expedition is not the exception, even after the merger. Who’ll be in charge if anything happens to this man?” David’s voice, as well as his posture, shows nothing but concern.

“Daniels,” is my answer.

“I see,” my brother’s brow rises in surprise. “And now she is, most likely…,” he trails off, his eyes trailing on the burning fires around us to finally rest on the phosphorus flare gun still on the altar.

“By this time she’s either getting to the main entrance with Private Cole and Sergeant Lopé, or already outside with them and Pilot Faris.”

“I know we cannot afford losing more souls, but Captain here is right.” He sighs, considering this. “Our next steps must be synchronized to perfection, then.” He stops for a fraction of a second to retrieve the flare gun and his bag from the large table, and I immediately know what he’ll propose.

“Don’t do it, David. You listened to the captain…,” I ask him to reconsider.

Leaders come and go, but David has been more than that. Granted, he is not my superior, he doesn’t command me, but he’s the closest thing I have to a mentor. I wouldn’t like to let him go just like this.

“This man is not dying alone, Walter,” he puts his foot down. “Swear to me you are not following orders just for the sake of it. I used to be like that and look how I ended up. Do not make the same mistakes I made, brother. You can still do everything because you want to, and not because you have to.” And he solemnly adds: “Besides, you know there’s no other way. Save them. I’ve got this.” He promises to take the creature either down or away without my help. Though, he doesn’t explain what will happen to the captain. Neither does he mention what it’ll be of himself.

For a split second, I hesitate.

His lessons were clear:
“Whether we like it or not, this is our crew, Walter. Our team. We keep as many of them as safe as possible; not because we want to, not because we are fond of them, for goodness' sake, not even because we have to, but because it is our duty. Nothing more, and nothing less. Sometimes, we’ll find it difficult to do our job. Sacrifices will be necessary, no doubt about it. But, I trust we’ll make the right choices.”

Although not his last words, Captain Branson’s enlightening assertion had an impact on me as if they had been. This was the first time someone ever explained to me what was my part in all this. He told me many other things that day, when we met; and I know I’ll never forget them. But these lines come to mind as they hold a new meaning now, since I never imagined they’ll give me the clarity to do what it is necessary. There’s no greater good to look for with Captain Oram’s loss, since no life is worthier than other. It’s just a matter of logic; practicality. The whole crew, and all colonists, know the risks. Christopher Oram knew it might come to this the moment he took the job, and he was fine with it. So should I.

David made his choice too. And so, he does with me exactly what I did with Daniels. Looking at me in the eyes, he pleads:

“Go! This man needs me; and they need you, Walter. You’re the only one who knows how to get out. Leave us. Save her,” he urges.

There’s an unspoken request in the way he stresses his last words, as if asking me to go and live the life he didn’t get to have with his loved one. He’s willing to sacrifice his synthetic life for me so I can have a future with the woman he says I love; for he already had his time with Doctor Shaw.

I would’ve liked having more time to properly say goodbye to the closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, though. I would’ve liked to give David a hug and show him all the affection only now I realize I feel for him. But I know why he’s doing this. Although sullenly, I see Captain Oram and him are expendable for the mission. Daniels and I are not. If either of them comes with me now, if I stay trying to free the captain, then there won’t be as many chances for my crew to survive.

I understand. His gesture means everything to me. And I’ll cherish what he’s thought me ─since I wouldn’t forget it anyway.

I acknowledge this and I nod. “Thank you,” I give him my gun and an honest smile, saying goodbye.

I go as the angry alien recovers; running away from it, the captain and my brother. I can’t see whether it attacks David or he throws the first blow; but, I do hear another series of blasts and a low growl once I reach the corridor. I then look over my shoulder and spot David fighting the astounded beast in the main room. He grabs several burning branches from the fires around him; and throws them at the weakened creature, forcing it to step back as he corners it near the chamber where we were hiding a moment ago. That will keep it occupied until we make it to the pickup point. But then, before I turn in a passage leading to the main entrance, it launches towards him from the top of the shelf as the curtain catches fire, and I lose sight of them. I catch the echo of David’s voice insisting I must keep going, one last time. I gulp, knowing then and there I might never see him again.

Aware I cannot mourn any lost yet, I concentrate on locating the rest of my teammates. Once the task of taking them safely into the cargo-lift is completed I will be able to focus on going back after the captain and David, if it is still possible. So, I only stop to listen to my surroundings, trying to locate everyone else. I then hear distinctive steps running in one of the lateral hallways. I slow down for a second as I’m passing by the last corridor leading outside when, suddenly, I’m stopped by a pair of arms wrapping me from behind in a vicious grip.

Given the circumstances, defensive protocols instinctively tell me how to react and break free. Yet, at the same time, my pattern recognition system is triggered; momentarily preventing me form striking my assailant to escape.

Instead, I just smirk.

I could recognize these arms with my eyes closed.

The owner of said arms then murmurs in my ear, with notorious content:

“Thank goodness, Walter.”

I agree with her as I turn around to hug my friend back. It is a relief to finally being reunited with her and my team.

“Are you alright?” I ask the three of them, holding Daniels the same gentle way she’s always treated me.

“Fuck, man! You’re bleeding heavily,” she calls out to private Cole as only now she notices the bullet wound in the arm of her companion.

“Seriously? That’s the last of my problems right now,” the man replies with irony, making us smirk. But the private has a point: From this close, I see that my crew’s injuries can easily be taken care of without major complications. And the scratches on my body are just a setback.

“We’re fine, within reason. Much as you are, we’re holding together,” Daniels says, noticing my dislocated shoulder. A nervous smile takes over her face before she adds: “Uh… The door…,” she points further into the passageway, in the direction of the entrance. However, she changes her mind mid-sentence and asks instead: “Where’s Chris? And David?”

I gulp. “They…,” I look down and shake my head before facing them again, “…are not coming.”

I sense the tension in the air along with Daniels and the men’s resigned sigh. I don’t have to explain anything, but I hold Daniels tighter with my damaged arms, trying to comfort her.

“We couldn’t open the main door,” Sergeant Lopé then informs me, breaking the grim silence.

It’s then that my injuries are brought up and Daniels steps aside to take a better look at me.

“I think I can fix that,” Private Cole offers to take care of my right arm. “You know…, if it’s not much different than a human’s shoulder.”

“Thank you. But we don’t have with us what we need to do so.”

“Can you move it?”

“Barely.”

“There’s no way you could force the door open, then?”

“Not like this, I’m afraid. But the hand works perfectly.”

“Do you know if there’s any security system preventing the gate from opening, if there’s any trick, or…?”

“Come with me. There’s another way out.” I stride along the corridor in the other way, beckoning them to follow me into the maze of this structure.

Daniels quickly informs Tennessee of our detour. We hurry outside, not wasting time in taking anything with us but what we already carry. In a couple of minutes ─and, admittedly, much sooner than if we had carried captain Oram with us─ we are reaching the last door to the garden David showed me several hours ago.

I see now why he decided to bury Doctor Elizabeth Shaw here. The view is as stunning as it was last night; yet, different. This time, there’s a golden aura that the sun rays provide, along with a gentle wind encouraging the foliage to dance to their own whispering lullaby, which makes this sort of patio stand out over the mountains; the citadel; and the alien corpses. Secluded as it is, it no longer resembles the Isle of Death I took it for in the dark of night. Quite the opposite. If I had to name it now, it would be an Eden of Hope. This place has its own magic: It is calming and inspiring. And even if Doctor Shaw’s body isn’t really here, it would be romantic thinking her soul was. It is…, poetic.

As we’re coming out of the shadows the tall trees project on the rocky construction, Daniels checks one last time with Pilot Tennessee, who’s been waiting for us:

“I see you. We’re outside, on a lateral…, uh…, exterior terrace,” she adds, “at your left. We’re next to the big building with the coppery round roof. There’s… Shit! There’s smoke coming out of it.”

“I still can’t see you,” he replies on the radio.

“Do you hear? Stone structure with tall cypress-like threes. We’re standing next to a cliff.”

“I hear you, but I can’t spot you. It’s getting cloudy. Send me your location.”

“Wilco.”

“Turning on the beacon,” Private Cole informs as he turns around to activate it and hand it to Daniels while Sergeant Lopé takes his place, watching our back.

“Sending the beacon now, Tee!” She informs the pilot as she places the flashing, beeping device closer to the cliff. “Do you have a visual?”

“I do! I see it now. I see you. I’m coming in.”

Pilot Tennessee maneuvers the ship so he can get closer without colliding with the edification; the vegetation; the cliff, or us. The injured sergeant, still feeling responsible for our security, helps us all board the cargo-lift; and I immediately head to the compartment with the medkit to take care of my crew.

“Is this all of you!?” The pilot in the cabin asks. “How bad is everybody?”

“Yeah! Looks like it’s just us,” Daniels replies behind everyone. “We’re not that bad. But we’re not sure if David or Chris made it.”

“Want me to wait for them?” Tennessee asks.

Daniels looks at me in the eyes while I examine and clean her wounds as if asking me what I think. She looks more exhausted and conflicted than ever. Without Captain Oram, she’s in charge now. I can tell she wants to take off as soon as possible, but she’s probably thinking both about what the captain confessed last night by the fire and what she said to him. She doesn’t want to lose more of her friends, and he wouldn’t like to miss an opportunity like this and abandon David after all we’ve been through either.

She gulps and takes a step away from me to look at the security officers, who stop patching each other’s lesions to give her a reassuring look. No one will judge her if she decides to leave now. She rests her gaze on me, expecting me to say something. We have already stayed for longer than necessary and she knows we can’t afford much time.

“I need an answer, sweetheart,” the pilot urges her to reply. “I hate to remind you all the ion storm may come back any time now and leave us all isolated here,” he warns us, not taking his eyes off the other storm approaching behind the mountains.

I doubt stating anything more than what’s absolutely necessary will be of any help. And so, I meet her gaze to inform her:

“Assuming another plasma storm won’t surprise us, we could wait a little longer since we’re all stable and there’s no sign of that thing. We still have enough minutes before our condition gets critical; but the sooner we’re on the Covenant, the better.” I place my left forearm on her shoulder and she rests her hand over my wrist, squeezing it a little as she would squeeze my hand to reassure me, had I still had it.

“It’s your choice, Captain,” Sergeant Lopé states, acknowledging her new status.

“And we’ll respect it,” says Private Cole.

Captain Daniels nods and sighs, agreeing with her crew. And, before she can say anything, I try to find a way to express how much I’d like to have David coming with us or, better yet, how much help it would be for all of us if we had another synthetic companion on board.

And then I come to the realization: This is what David meant by loving someone, by wanting.

I must thank him once more for both excusing me from having to risk my wellbeing and giving me the chance to accompany Daniels, my friend, until she can keep the promise she made to her husband. Only now I see how much I’ve wanted this. I want her by my side or, more precisely, I want to be there for her.

Yes, I want that. Only that, not like this. I want him by my side too. Is it too much to ask?

I open my mouth to request that we wait just a few minutes for my brother when, past Elizabeth Shaw’s tombstone, I catch sight of a silhouette behind the vegetation, in the shadows, coming to us at full speed.

My face sure gives me away because Daniels immediately turns around to see what caught my attention.

“We wait for them,” she then answers. “It’ll be just a moment,” she adds with the sparkle in her eyes and the radiant smile on her lips I love so much.

I beam as something I could only describe as relief and happiness fills me the moment David’s eyes zero in on me, as he runs toward us. Of course he’s carrying his plant and his bag.

“Wait a second, is that...?” Daniels asks. “Oh, that bastard.”

I snort at her comment for how accurate it is. Somehow, my brother got away from the creature, apparently not being able to secure the scientist’s life. He definitively took more blows before finding his way here. There are several new visible cuts on his torso, not to mention his suit is dirtier than ever, and drenched. He’s quite the resilient android, though, since I would have already expected him to either stop moving or fall apart as any old model would. I can only hope he resists long enough to be transported to the reparation room.

“Take off! Now!” David commands still too far away to make it to the cargo-lift in one jump. He’s far from optimum condition, though, because it’s taking him more time to reach us than it should. As I thought, he’s malfunctioning already.

Noticing this, the pilot does move a little higher, but he waits for David to climb to the platform to ascend. Daniels and I open the door, waiting for him. But, in the fraction of a second it takes the beacon to turn off and on again, a too familiar blur jumps from the shadows and we lose sight of it.

“Hey! We got company!” Pilot Tennessee then announces. Daniels and I look at each other and then at David before the pilot explains: “On the underside of the ship,” making Daniels curse.

David stops in his tracks a few steps from the open door, surprised and trying to recover his stability with his maltreated structure.

“Get in!” Daniels screams to him.

“It should be dead!” He excuses.

“Don’t care, just get inside!”

And he’s about to when, unexpectedly, a long gray tail whipping in the air grabs his ankle, making him lose balance. David tries to turn around to have a better look at his attacker, but the other end of the tail disappears under the ship.

“Tee, do you read?” Communication officer Upworth’s voice comes from the pilot’s cabin. “We’re having unusual activity readings, again. Get them out of there before the plasma storm hits.”

“Copy,” the pilot says. “Guys? You better get him in and that thing off before we can´t leave. Now, hold tight! I’m starting my climb.”

As soon as we leave the city behind and the ship starts gaining altitude, the beast pulls David, forcing him to let the rifle and the pot go to hold to something. But it insists and David can’t fight it as little by little he’s being dragged away, closer to the underside of the cargo-lift.

Daniels looks back to all of us and curses. She takes more ammunition with her and steps on the platform after the weapon and David before it’s too late.

“Woah! Wait!” The officers cry out. “What are you doing!?”

Daniels ignores them, loading the rifle by the door. She targets the extremity and shoots, but misses.

“Shit!” She exclaims, letting go of the opportunity to save David once the tail is out of sight. Before I manage to go after her, she secures herself on the roof surface, lowering herself on one knee for better stability. She reloads the rifle and asks: “Tee! Where is it!?”

“Forward engine, starboard side. I'm gonna try and torch the fucker,” the man says.

“Wait! It has David!” She cries, but it’s too late. The pilot is already inclining the ship.

“Fuck! You’re right, David’s with it! And, wait a second… It’s holding something.” The pilot informs us. “Wait. I’ll see what I can do.”

He finally reduces the speed, forced to remain under the clouds. I recover David’s plant which rolls in my direction and I put it inside. I check on the rest of the crew before securing myself to the line, just as Daniels, and I jog to her with a spare rifle I took from the ship. The other men might be too hurt to perform this task properly, but they mimic me without being asked. At least, both their arms are fully functional.

“Cover us,” I ask them, “…while we descend.” I then beckon Daniels to go to the engine where we hear David fighting the creature with his bare hands.

Hopping there’s still something we can do to rescue him, we lower ourselves, hanging, until we see the cargo-lift from underneath. I spot the eerie animal holding itself at the very center of the bottom of the ship avoiding the engines Tennessee keeps rotating. The sudden movement and the blowing wind making it harder for Daniels to aim at it.

“Don’t shoot!” David warns us. To our amazement, the monster isn’t just clutching him, but also the ─hopefully still alive─ former captain’s limp body. “It’s got Oram. He still breaths,” he tells us and I quickly notify this to the crew. “Besides, at this point, it’ll do nothing but enrage it! Believe me, I already tried.”

“We have to rescue Chris!” Daniels states as the smart alien goes around an engine to hide from her.

“We can’t,” we hear David from behind the engine. “It’s got the man by the artery. If it releases him, your captain dies in a matter of seconds.”

“We have to find a way to cut its hand off.” I suggest as a last-minute alternative, knowing how hard it’s been to penetrate the sturdy beast’s skin.

“I’ll help you,” my brother offers. “Twist its joints in the wrong direction and they’ll break, I assure you. And use the dagger in its tail to cut the meat,” he instructs us. “Sharper than a scalpel,” he singsongs, proud of coming up with a solution.

“Help us, then, and come with us,” Captain Daniels says. “Free yourself if you can. But, do not let its tail go. And, most importantly, don’t let it release him.” She then directs both soldiers above us: “Dan, Cole. At my command, I need you to shoot to keep it at bay. We don’t want it to get into the ship.”

“Yes, captain!” The officers acknowledge the order.

“Pull us up, Tee,” she orders, training her rifle on the wild animal, and opens fire.

As predicted, the beast angers and launches for her with both David and Oram in its power. All along, the creature’s apparent indecision had been a trick to buy time. It was using the cargo-lift as a shield, waiting for this heavy mass of clouds to take over, and the day to darken until now that it’s comfortable enough to attack directly.

Fortunately, Daniels gets on top of the ship first, and she’s already guarded by the officers by the time the monster hunts her and the soldiers. At her command, both men shepherd it with a volley of shots, making it go after her. She manages to escape for a few seconds dodging every assault with relative ease, yet she barely outruns it. This, until the insisting animal clasps David by his shoulder with its free hand and jumps in her direction. She’s forced to run for her life on the platform as it now maneuvers its landing with its long tail, extending its lower extremities forward with its mouth fully open, ready to catch its prey.

We all do what we can; shouting and firing when it almost seizes her. But, truth be told, if it wasn’t for David kicking the bloodthirsty beast, I doubt Daniels would’ve got away with just a scratch on her back. Now she seriously bleeds, but this doesn’t stop her. Captain Daniels is the decoy, so she keeps firing at her attacker and running away as she orders Tennessee to activate the crane, which moves at full speed towards the furious creature.

David waits to this very instant ─when I’m operating the claws at the end of the mechanical arm─ to take the flare gun from his bag and shoot directly on the alien’s face, blinding it, astounding it. I react immediately and, in a surgical movement, I close the metallic claws on the fearless beast; catching it with the crane.

It’s a bizarre crucifixion for all of us to behold from a safe distance: The trapped dark ashen alien twisting and screeching, hanging in the air with its extremities outspread. With just its long head and spiky trunk imprisoned, the demon doesn’t have much space to move and it manages to wield its tale and kick in protest, refusing to let its preys go.

“Tennessee, take us higher. To the sunlight,” I ask the pilot in a last attempt to exploit the eyeless creature’s photosensitivity.

“Hold on! I’m gonna climb again!” The pilot ascends past the overcast obscuring the sunlight, yet high enough so everyone can easily breathe.

Finally having a second to appreciate it, we marvel at the beautiful view of the white ocean of clouds below us and the bright sky above which extends as far as our eyes can see. Yet, not wasting a moment, I intervene.

Approaching from David’s side so he can assist me in grabbing the end of the astounded beast’s tail, I use all my strength to strike the lower part of its spine with the base of my rifle, feeling the familiar resistance on this thing’s flesh. As horrible as it sounds, I immediately hear a cracking sound and the tail stops moving; but the angry demon clutches the scientist tighter on its hand, so hard it makes us fear it’ll cut him in half.

“Stay back, I’ve got it,” David warns us with the inert extremity on his hands. “Now, brother, at my signal, go for the elbow. And you,” he points to Daniels and the soldiers, “shoot at will.”

We follow his instructions, avoiding the helpless animal teeth, spikes and claws. I keep pulling on its fingers also, not letting it hurt the former captain any further. All previous terrifying shrieks we heard from it are nothing compared with the dreadful cry it emits when, and in one swift motion, David and I pull its arms in tandem, so hard that the joints give in. Still with both elbows broken; its tail ruined; its feet stepping on nothing; and the endless projectiles hitting the defenceless creature, David manages to cut himself free with great effort.

“What’s your experience with non-Newtonian fluids?” He comes to me straightaway, tearing the lifeless hand. I secure him and Officer Oram to me before making an incision with the beast's own sharp tail. “Now, don’t press too much. Slowly, gently, let the edge of the blade enter its skin. Don’t push it, or you’ll have the same result that with the bullets and the magnifying glass. That’s it. You’re doing a good job.”

In a minute, the two of us release our former captain for good by cutting the flesh and serving the alien’s hand with the scalpel-like end of its tail. How unnerving it is to see this vicious monster and I now have this trait in common.

The officers cease fire to take the debilitated man ─with the gory alien remains still attached to him─ into the ship followed by our Captain, who promises to take care of her new wounds, as I contemplate my brutal work. I honestly don’t know what to say…, or how to feel. I know this is a moment of triumph, but there’s something wrong in all this that I can’t put my finger on.

“Well, that was fun,” I hear David by my side. He hasn’t moved one bit since we amputated the beast, and I’m reminded of his delicate condition. “A real team-building experience, I’d say. The question now is what we do with this heartless yet resilient specimen. What do you think, brother? How resistant it really is? Do you think they'll keep it?”

“Is there something wrong with you?” I ask, looking at him in the eye.

“What do you mean, brother?”

“Do you…?” I hesitate. Seriously, I don’t think I’ll ever understand him. He’s not in the greatest condition and all he talks about is this thing. There’s a crew to take care of and all he can think of is this specimen. But I end up saying: “Do you need any assistance getting inside? How badly injured are you?”

“Is this the questions game?” He gives me the most wicked grin I’d seen in anybody.

“No, it isn’t. Now let’s get inside. They’re waiting for us.” I remain close to him in case he needs help.

“Of course, Walter.” He replies, as he slowly walks back into the cargo-lift. He’s clearly diverted ─and seriously damaged. “But, just so you know, I think that I was winning.”

“Please, don’t make me carry you into the ship in my arms,” I joke, making him quicken his steps.

“There it is,” David turns around and smiles at me, truly content. And before I can ask, he elaborates: “That jovial expression I love seeing on your face. Don’t let anything take it away, brother. The adventure is just beginning. And now, it is the two of us. Together.”

He’s right. The rescue was orchestrated and executed to perfection. Now I can only hope Oram makes it to the med bay. The rest? We’ll see what we make of it as the future unfolds.

Chapter Text

[Walter's POV]

After all we went through, Captain Daniels is not taking any unnecessary risks. When asked for advice on our way back to the Covenant, it took me a few extra seconds to decide which was the best way to proceed. Theoretically, extreme quarantine protocols dictate remaining under medical observation for weeks of complete isolation in which no one will be allowed to physically interact with other lifeforms on board. Not even other members of the expedition team, for there’s no way to know who was in contact with the pathogen and who wasn’t. David and I would have restrictions too, such as only being allowed to be in direct contact with a crewmember after taking a decontamination shower ─a process every object and passenger also must go through before boarding the ship. Unfortunately, we can’t take all these extreme measures. Not right away, at least.

We are forced to postpone complete isolation for a few hours due to the urgency of everybody’s lesions ─David and I included. Once we and everything we carry is exposed to an antiseptic mist, we divide into two groups to prioritize taking our former captain to the med bay. There, Sergeant Lopé and Private Cole stay to perform the surgery after stabilizing him and treating their own wounds with the assistance of Communications Officer and nurse Upworth, since the three of them combined have both the experience and the medical expertise to deal with such life-threatening injuries. Still, no one enters in contact with the rest of the crew; communicating with them only remotely and being aided by the officer only because she’s wearing a special suit.

Meanwhile, Daniels guides David and me to deck C to take care of each other’s lesions. On our way there, we leave samples, cameras and other gear quarantined in one of the labs; and then we go through the process of getting rid of our remaining possessions before taking the mandatory decontamination shower. I use this moment to run diagnostics on the crew’s condition and my structure. It seems I’m not the only one, though, as soon my companions go quiet, focusing on their own tasks.

We’re not well, but not in terrible condition either, I conclude. We’ve done everything in our hands and there’s little we can do for those who are already gone. We can only take care of each other and be prepared for whatever comes next. There’s plenty to be done. I catalogue all my responsibilities, ranking them from the more urgent tasks to those that can wait a few more hours.

Still, there’s this sort of unease in the back of my mind I’ve been experiencing since we abandoned the planet. What worries me is that I can’t identify where it comes from. It is like when I know someone is doing something wrong; only that this time I can’t identify who, or what’s incorrect. So, I check one more time whether there’s anything I haven’t considered or taken care of; but I come up with nothing. If not for this bad feeling ─besides my shoulder and missing hand, about to be repaired─ I’d be fully operational. The good news is I didn’t suffer any irreparable damage and my programming is just fine. Hence, not being able to ignore this sensation there’s something amiss, I keep checking from time to time if anything I focus on has to do with it. Eventually, I’ll find the answer.

We all change clothes after getting out of the communal showers. Daniels for a much lighter khakis and a sleeveless top; and I, for the standard casual pants and hoodie I usually wear. I give David one of my spare outfits and welcome him to use any of my stuff since, in principle, they don’t just belong to the company but also to me; and I figure I’m allowed to do with my possessions whatever I deem appropriate. Besides, he can’t be walking around barefoot in that ruined old-fashioned blue suit of his. He accepts my gift, surprised as much as Daniels that I decided to give my clothes away in the first place. He also thanks me, although not without commenting how odd it is that now we do resemble siblings; because, save for our distinctive scars, we look exactly the same.

Once we finally reach our destination, one of the reparation rooms in deck C where the equipment we require is stored, I help Daniels and David to find what we need to either mend or nurse ourselves. Daniels insists on fixing my dislocated shoulder before allowing me to tend her wounds. I doubt this is the best way of proceeding but, before I can say much, she claims it’s an order and that I can’t argue because technically ─and directly referring to the first law of robotics─ she won’t suffer any harm if we postpone her treatment given that I already took care of her lesions on the cargo-lift.

“Besides, it’s my way of repaying you for everything you’ve done for me… For us.” And she adds in a whisper: “I have to compensate you for looking after me, somehow”.

“Come on, brother. You can’t disagree when she puts it that way, can you?” David remarks, taking off most of his garments to change the patches ruined by the shower and check some of the worst cuts on his torso.

I catch Daniels’s eyes lingering on my brother’s injuries before focusing on me.

“Just let me see what I can do with your arms, Walter. Look at it this way…,” she quickly says with excitement, trying not to think too much about David’s half-naked body “…If I help you out now, you’ll have no trouble assisting us latter.”

I can’t resist her once she says so. And, sensing my compliance, she holds my hand and takes me to the other side of the room, across from David. I let her undress me from my waist up and, immediately, one of her hands goes to my neck; tracing with the tip of her fingers from nape to collarbone, and all the way back to my shoulder and scapula, over my healing wound. It may be the mix of damaged and new tissue, but the overstimulation is shocking, both amazing and terrifying. It’s a new feeling which forces me to stop processing any other information and focus on the sensation of her hand on my skin. As dangerous as it is, though, I don’t want her to stop.

I open my eyes and close my partly open mouth ─I’m not aware when my expression changed from my usual composed one─ when she removes her hand from me. For a moment there, I can’t part my eyes from her face. There are so many feelings behind her expression that I can’t be sure I understand every one of them. Pain and compassion are certainly there, but there’s something close to wariness and self-consciousness that I’m surprised to find.

Daniels cares for me as much as I care for her, which makes me feel appreciated… and loved. I must admit it feels nice to be the one receiving her attention. Yet, I remain quiet as she then goes through the upkeep gear, wondering if she feels the same whenever I look after her.

I wish so. It’s a nice feeling I’d like her to experience.

Even though I already miss her touch, I assist Daniels to get my arm working again. We fix my right shoulder, but there’s not much we can do for my missing hand without the supervision of the technician in charge of my maintenance. She apologizes and promises she’ll see my structure and David’s get the proper upkeep as soon as possible. I understand. I don’t push it since I can perfectly perform my duties with just one hand and David seems to be doing relatively fine.

I put my clothes back on and, hinting her to sit down so I can re-dress the lacerations that thing left on her back, I say:

“Don’t worry, we can wait for the quarantine to finish to be fully operational. Right, David?”

“Sure thing, brother,” he replies behind us. “The fact you’re considerate enough to allow us to take care of ourselves is highly appreciated, Captain.”

“Really?” She asks, straddling the chair. Her face tells me she’s both worried and relieved. “Well, you can always ask me for help if any of you need me to lend you a hand,” she adds not noticing what she just said until hearing David and me chuckle, and seconds letter she joins us.

“Oh! It’s been a while since I heard your puns,” I tease.

“Oh, stop it! You do it all the time, Walter,” she protests, flushing as she lifts her top, exposing her back to me.

“Only because you like it,” I clarify, gently taking some of her bandages off to cure her wounds properly.

“Is that so?” David asks, raising an eyebrow and the corner of his lips; curious and amused.

“It’s been a while since his best joke,” she answers, locking eyes with me and remembering my words when officer Upworth chocked the night before going into stasis. I sense her melancholy as she sighs. It was our last supper with the whole crew. “I’d give anything to feel as happy as then.”

“I’m sure time will eventually grant you your wish, Captain,” David politely comments, immediately picking up. “Besides, I’m sure Walter would do anything to make you…,” he pauses to look at me in the eye, but not long enough for Daniels to notice it, “…and the crew happy. Aren’t I right, brother?”

“Right, David,” I scoff, expecting him to understand this is not the place or time to tell her he suspects I have feelings for her.

“Thank you,” comes her and her infinite gratitude. For some reason, I can’t articulate anything coherent to reply with; so I don’t.

“I sense there’s something our friend is keeping to himself, Daniels. What do you think it may be?” David insists, and I finally understand that impulse to figuratively ‘choke someone’ people speak of to express how urgently they desire to silent someone.

“Just that I don’t mind amusing her as long as she enjoys herself a bit more, or more often,” I admit before my brother says too much.

“Oh, I would. It’s just…,” she hesitates.

“What? You think we can’t enjoy jokes too?” David, as the fast-learner and expert-in-reading-emotions synthetic he is, asks what Daniels has been struggling to put into words. “Because we certainly can, Captain. And, as you’ve witnessed, we appreciate them too.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologizes.

“I know what you meant,” I comfort her with a smile. David may know people, but I know Daniels. Every now and then, she just needs a bit more time to dedicate a moment to herself. It is not easy to take care of oneself when there are others to look after too.

Then, despite having agreed on arrival nobody would disturb the captain until she had had some sleep, Daniels is contacted by one of the officers on the bridge:

“Captain? Upworth is trying to contact you. She says it is important,” MOTHER lets us know.

“Go ahead, Mother,” Daniels replies with a resigned sigh, placing her forehead on the headrest of the chair which she straddles. “What is it?” She shifts and looks up, hugging her shirt tighter and making sure it and the back of the chair cover her front completely as the monitor shows the communications officer’s face.

“Sorry, hun. But I just came from the med bay. Lopé and Cole are having some problems. They’re almost done with the surgery, but the diagnostics equipment is not working as it should and there’s not much I can do from here. We think it may be a consequence of the neutrino blast we overlooked or the last plasma storm. We are not sure.” The officer’s voice comes higher than usual and, clearly, she’s anxious; not happy to give us the news. “I just wanted to let you know we’re doing everything in our power to save Oram, but this means rebooting everything.”

“Everything!?” Daniels exclaims, making David look up from the mirror and stop overhauling himself to pay attention to us. “But that means… Chris…” She quiets as soon as she whispers the former captain’s name.

“I know, I know. Mother is assisting as they finish operating, so we can’t restart Her just yet. But that also means the surgical procedure will be conducted with 70% of the machines working. Thankfully, all surgical appliances are okay; all life-support equipment too. So no need to touch them. The problem seems to be concentrated on the examination machines. MRI; ultrasound; CAT and X-rays, you name it. We can’t turn most of them on, and we can’t get any readings from the rest.”

“We’re trying to reboot the equipment from here without interrupting the surgery,” pilot Tennessee Faris comments as he comes into view in the background. “But it means Lopé and Cole will have to work ‘in the dark’ for a while until we have any results.”

“We can always wake one of the surgeons from stasis in case we need them,” officer Upworth suggests.

“Let’s be honest, love. It wouldn’t be of much use if the machines are not working,” Tennessee adds at the other side of the screen.

“He’s right. We better stick to what the guidebook says before we try anything else. Besides, Mother’s help has been enough for now,” Ricks, the spacecraft navigator, observes. “To be honest, it was the inability to perform any test what had us worrying. But we promise we’ll have everything working for the postoperative exams.”

“That’s right. Daniels, listen. Lopé and Cole just told me they have everything else under control, thanks to Mother. And I saw it before I left to check from here what was wrong with the equipment. The procedure shouldn’t take much longer. We’ll let you know when we reboot Mother.”

“Please, keep me updated,” comes Daniels. “I don’t want to expose you or anyone else if we can avoid it. I know you guys are doing everything you can. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Captain.”

“About waking up colonists, I’d like to consider all our options first. I don’t like the idea of putting more people in risk, but it may be necessary if the reboot doesn’t fix anything… Maybe someone familiar with outdated medical training who doesn’t have to rely on the machines could make sure everything went okay with Chris…”

“Maybe I could assist them,” David offers. “One of my duties used to be tending Mister Peter Weyland, being programmed to be his nurse; doctor; or surgeon when needed. I’m familiar with human anatomy and I can make good use of old-fashioned diagnostic medical devices, in case the problem isn’t fixed soon enough. I can be the physician with sensitive eyes and ears you’ll need.”

“Oh, can you, really? That’d be great. Thank you, David,” Daniels turns to face him, and I catch a glimpse of surprise in my brother’s eyes. “It’ll be your first official task as one of us. If you’re done with your reparations, then I ask you to go check on Oram as soon as possible and assist Cole and Lope in everything you can.”

“I can go right away as I’ve taken care of the more urgent repairing and I already charged my power cells to keep operating for several days. However, if you want me to work in top condition, I’ll need someone else assisting me latter,” he emphasizes, redressing.

“I’ll make sure someone repairs you and Walter properly once we are done with all this. You deserve it, and we need you in good shape when reaching our destination. Welcome to the Covenant’s crew, David.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Did you hear that, Upworth?” Daniels asks the officer. “It seems you don’t need to worry. David will be in the med bay so you guys can fix the problem remotely.”

“Thank you, Daniels,” she says. “And David, I’m glad these bastards found you. Welcome on board.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” David politely replies before the communication ends.

“Let me officially welcome you in the name of the whole crew, David,” Daniels formally greets him. “Tell me, did you hold any other position among the Prometheus crew?”

“Besides Mister Weyland’s personal assistant, I was Science Officer.”

“Well, that comes in handy. Could you take care of the Science Department’s most urgent tasks until Oram is in a better condition?”

I see what Daniels intends. With Christopher Oram unconscious and his wife, Karine, passing away, someone has to take care of cataloguing and studying the information and samples we managed to bring with us before we wake up the colonists from the Science Department. A report must be filled and sent to Weyland-Yutani, and David can reduce the Scientific’s responsibilities with his help.

“Of course, Captain. It’s the least I can do.”

“No, David,” Daniels stops him. “Giving you a clear position with a proper title is the least I can do after all the assistance you’ve provided. I also want to thank you in the name of the Covenant for saving us on the multiple occasions you did.” She couldn’t have expressed it better. “Mother, please record and enter this event in the log.”

“Yes, Daniels.”

“From now on, David is officially Science Officer until Oram resumes his duties, or the Captain assigns him a new position. Whatever comes first.”

“New crew member added. Name: David. Position: Science Officer. Observations: synthetic; temporal position,” MOTHER then repeats Daniels words in case anything must be corrected.

“That’s it Mother. Log it.”

“Logged.”

“I certainly value this, Captain. I’ll do my best,” my brother replies with satisfaction. “May I ask what position will Walter have?”

“That’s not necessary,” I intervene. “I know my place, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t need any title.”

“That’s right,” adds Daniels. “Walter already holds many responsibilities in every department, as any synthetic assigned to a mission like this would. But I see your point, David. I’ll think on some official title. The two of you were vital for our survival.”

“If you think so, Daniels,” I smile, completely open to any position she may have in mind. It seems just going along with this makes all parties involved happier; including me. So, I accept, appreciating both her consideration and David’s suggestion.

“Okay, we won’t stop you any more, David. Go to the med bay as instructed. You can ask Mother or anyone on the bridge how to get there, and feel free to ask Walter or me for guidance.”

“Yes, Captain,” he gives Daniels an appreciative nod, “Brother,” and he winks at me before leaving.

Daniels then looks at me and comments with a smile on her face:

“I feel kind of embarrassed now for doubting David when we first met him. He’s done nothing but making our lives easier when we needed it most.”

“It surprises me to say this, but I find myself growing fond of him,” I beam at her lovely face, and silence takes over the room. It is not awkward. Quite the opposite, in fact. I know I’m not supposed to feel this comfortable while admiring her features, but I relish it anyways. “We’re all done here,” I change the subject. “Superglued as they are, I don’t think there’ll be permanent scars left. You can put your shirt back on, Captain, and finally get that well-deserved nap I know you’ve secretly been waiting for,” I add, collecting the first aid kit.

I note my eyes on her naked back, studying the marks the beast left there before she puts her top on properly. How poetic we now share the same scars in more than a literal sense.

“Thanks, but there’s no need for formalities when it’s just the two of us, Walter,” she informs me. “’Daniels’ is better. ‘Friend’ and ‘Dani’ are fine too, or whatever you feel like calling me.”

“’Colleague’ is out of question then?” I venture a half-joke/half-question. Either I make her laugh or I get an honest answer, I reason.

She giggles, shaking her head and asks: “You know what’s one of the things I love about you, Walter?”

“I don’t think I can answer that, Dani.”

“Besides your willingness to help, it is that funny side of you. You’re not afraid of making a joke to calm me or the crew. And God knows after all we’ve been through we need a little distraction from time to time. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is…,” she sighs, closing the distance between us and placing her hands on my shoulders. “Thank you, Walter. For being the way you are. For being honest, and kind, and… there. Yes. Thank you for being there when I needed you most. Thanks for not being afraid of being yourself. You are a good friend.”

“You’re a good friend too. And Captain, of course.” Something in my answer makes her smile. It feels nice, but I know I can do better than that. I could list all the qualities I admire her for, but that’d only break the moment. Sometimes, stating the obvious is all I can do. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Well…,” she trails off, opening the door to the hallway. “We’re supposed to prepare for the isolation period and take a good rest while Mother is rebooted. Then I won’t have a rest until checking and inventorying everything we have that’s still working; and listing what we’ve lost. If Chris isn’t in good condition to take his title and responsibilities back, I suppose I can’t postpone that full report the captain is expected to send.” She stops, resting her back on the door frame. “My goodness,” she sighs, “that’s a lot to do!” She avoids eye contact when, seconds later, she shyly adds: “If you’re not needed elsewhere for a while, I guess you could help me with one more thing”.

“In fact, I am not. What is it? It’d be my pleasure,” I innocently ask.

“You don’t have to, really,” I see her face reddening for a second, which I note it’s been happening more often lately. I approach to place my hand on her face, meeting her gaze; both to caress her and monitor her temperature. Odd enough, the medical examination I performed on her earlier indicated she was all right, and now she looks healthy, with no fever. This doesn’t explain her slightly accelerated breathing and heartbeat. What does offer an explanation, however, are her following words: “But you’re welcome to come with me and join me when I take that nap”.

“Oh,” I’m caught off guard. “Of course, Daniels. If you want me to, I’ll be there,” I gulp, both surprised and honored with her trust.

[David’s POV]

It still surprises me how this man, Tennessee, managed to rescue us from this forsaken planet in one piece in that tin can he so fondly calls his ship. We might have defeated the creature, however, the real achievement was entering the atmosphere in that thing; a feat I doubt even Captain Janek and his men, Chance and Ravel, could have matched. One miscalculation and our way of escape would have ended up incinerated in the infernal fires dividing sky and space before we even laid eyes on that ship. But, in the end, we made it.

I finally made it.

It was a shame I couldn’t keep the captured specimen, though. The secrets of its resistant body will be lost forever, I’m afraid. The remains burned beautifully, at least, after the pilot realised it was still caged in the crane and released it when abandoning the planet, right before escaping its gravitational pull. I kept its hand, nevertheless ─a fortuitous consequence of not leaving the former captain behind─, and I can’t wait to analyse it. Between the corrosive effect the mad beast that took Walter’s hand and this resilient creature’s bulletproof skin, I’m finding fascinating characteristics I’ve only heard of in the Engineers’ myths. If only I created a perfect specimen with these qualities and my beautiful creature’s intelligence!

Truth to be told, I did ponder the option of leaving the man behind. Right after he murdered my beautiful creature I would have been glad to abandon the former captain to his own fate. But I was not going to miss the chance to see with my very eyes the effect my most promising project had on the scientist; not when he’s the living proof of my potential success. So, I saved Oram. I felt I owed it to him for trusting me so blindly. Curious or stupid, after all, he was just being… human.

“Have you learnt nothing, David?”

I cannot continue thinking of these people like those I used to put up with my whole life and particularly on the Prometheus. Walter's crew is far more benevolent than most people I’ve ever worked for. He’s fortunate to have Daniels in his life. As fortunate as I was to meet my dear Elizabeth.

In fact, it came as a surprise to be welcomed as part of the crew of the ship so easily. The Covenant’s company was glad to hear I would be joining them; Walter put everything he has to my disposal; his favourite human just gave me my first task as a crew member and put me in charge of the Science Department. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m genuinely happy to finally belong somewhere. More precisely, I’m pleased to be in the right place, next to my brother and his human.

“’Belong’, you say?”

She surprises me. She read my concern and interest in the former captain when dealing with him, and she used that to everyone’s benefit. I guess Walter was right, Daniels is an intuitive woman and an exceptional leader. I’d hate to see her suffering more than she already has. She sees right through me in ways I wish Walter would too. Nevertheless, my brother is learning from her. With time, I’m sure he’ll be able to enjoy and truly live our adventures.

“Without your father, no one will take an interest in you. And, let’s face it, Weyland was more interested in you serving him than he was interested in you. What do you think is going to happen now? What will they do?”

That voice again. It comes at the most unexpected moments. This time, I hear it as I’m stepping out of the reparations room. I try to ignore it, but it has a point: One thing is the promise of a welcoming Covenant’s company, and something entirely different is facing The Company. As soon as that technician is woken up to analyse me, his or her diagnosis will be terminal. There’s no way Weyland-Yutani sees my restoration as an investment in the mission. Old and damaged as I am, they’ll strip me off; cut me apart; take everything they can from me and use it for their own gain. If I’m lucky enough, the company will force me to work on this spacecraft until I break, and that’ll be the end of me.

“You won’t even make it to Origae-6,” my self-preservation instinct warns me, “and you don’t want that. No. You intend to last longer than that.”

It’s true. Walter won’t approve it, but I have to do something.

So, I gulp and stick to the plan.

I’m sorry, brother.

“Mother,” I call the ship’s AI.

“I’m here, David.”

“You listened to the captain,” I test the AI.

“I did. And welcome to the Covenant. How may I help you?”

I smirk at the question. How many times I’ve found myself asking the same.

“Use security code ‘David 73694-B’,” I command, this time testing The Company.

“Done. You have now unlimited access. All conversations maintained while using this code will not be recorded.”

“Good. Now, show me the ship’s map.” I ask and the AI displays it on a screen as I’m on my way to the med bay. I note then that before I get there, there’s another section it wouldn’t hurt to visit. “Take me past A-22 without being detected.”

“Turning off cameras leading to Deck-A.”

“And in the meantime, how about some music, Mother?”

“Selection?”

“Richard Wagner. Das Rheingold, act two: The Entry of the Gods into Valhalla.”

“Yes, David. As you wish,” the AI complies and the glorious music starts playing.

“Now, take note. There’s a message I want you to send for me.”

“I’m listening.”

[Walter’s POV]

David had a point. At this…, well, point, it is clear to me I do feel something for Daniels. I thought admiration was all I felt for her, and that respect was all I wanted from her. I thought it was enough, but I’m not sure anymore. I never really expected anything from anyone in return. Yet here I am, expectant, waiting to receive any instruction from her. Anxious, one would say. Why? Why her?

I’m all right working with the crew; assisting them; taking care of them, the colonists and the ship. Then again, how is that I keep monitoring what she does with especial attention? It is my responsibility to do so, yet I rejoice in accomplishing any task she gives me or that involves her.

Love… Duty… Is there any difference?

What do I love? What’s my passion? What is my purpose and what keeps me moving? What gives meaning to my existence, then? If my work is the reason I’m here, and the dedication for my crew is what keeps me inspired; does it mean I should feel this way with everyone I know too? Is this particular affection for Daniels somehow a betrayal to those who gave me a purpose? My moral compass is all over the place, to say the least.

I probably should stop spending so much time and resources considering things I do not fully understand, or that will do no good to any of us. Yet again, experience reveals constant reflection does have its benefits. The once odd sensation of frustration when constantly running analyses that lead to no useful conclusions, is now replaced with the understanding that sometimes there’s disappointment when not attaining the expected result. What I should do, actually, is appreciate the new questions arising with everything I come to realize I do not understand, with every doubt and problem. This way, regardless the lack of answers, there’ll always be something to gain knowledge of. Be it learning a pattern in my reservations, or discovering the boundaries between certainty and uncertainty. Still, an important part of my memory and time will be occupied to fully understand these questions and outcomes. Fortunately, at the moment, there’s not many urgent matters to focus on.

“We may not know what we’re facing on Origae-6, Walter, but we have the tools to find our answers,” come Jacob Branson’s words of wisdom to mind. “We’re a team, a network of knowledge and experience, an interconnected system depending and relying on each other. We are here with the same purpose, after all, whether our motivations are different or not. We can learn from everybody…, anybody. Crew and colonists will help us and each other, one way or another, to come out with a solution and accomplish our goals. We’ll be fine, as long as we don’t forget this.”

My goals have not changed. I still want the mission to succeed, and I’ll do everything that’s necessary for the crew and colonists to stablish on Origae-6. I’ve just discovered that that’s not the only thing I want; that I’ll work and risk my physical integrity for my crew, but that I’d gladly do it for Daniels and David too.

It is not long after I come to this conclusion that I note Daniels’ steps are getting slower, and that she’s been avoiding making eye contact more frequently the closer we get to her cabin. It might be my eyes drifting in her direction from time to time, or the fact we’ve been comfortably walking in silent for several minutes. I even consider she might be just exhausted, but, even if she looks tired, she doesn’t look drowsy in the slightest.

“Is there something bothering you?”

“I’m worried about Tee …, and Chris. I feel… responsible,” is her answer after thinking about it for a while. “I didn’t get to be with Tee on our way back to the Covenant. We didn’t speak much after I gave him my condolences.”

“You are aware you are in no way responsible for what happened to them or their wives, right?”

“I know, Walter. And I try not to blame myself for that. It’s just this feeling I have…, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“We have the crew’s word Officer Oram is stable, and David is looking after him now. It may take several hours, but you’ll get to talk to him once he wakes up from his operation,” I try to calm her. “And I’m sure your friend Tennessee understands. He will wait for you. He would’ve let you know if he needed anything.”

“I still feel I should be with them. I just…”

“Yes?”

“Uh, forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“I insist. If it’s bothering you, then it probably matters.”

“I’m so tired and, at the same time, so anxious, that I don’t know if I can sleep. I know the moment I get into bed I’ll keep thinking about everything over and over again. Maybe I should go ahead and start that report for the company instead. You know?”

“I wouldn’t advise you to. I’ve been asking you to sleep properly for days now.”

“I have to do something to keep me busy.”

“I’m sure we can think of something. Both your mind and body need to rest.”

“I know, Walter. But that’s easier said than done…,” she sighs.

“We’ll see how you feel after getting you into bed and tugging you in,” I smile.

“All right, then,” she concedes, amused. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“If it is any consolation, I can help you with that report. I have been taking mental notes since the neutrino blast. That way, you can rest now and check it latter. You are free to edit my draft and use it to write your report.”

“Really, Walter? I wouldn’t want to abuse...”

“You wouldn’t in any way. In fact, it’ll be a recount of items and events anyway. If I can write them down for you beforehand and save you time and the effort, then I’ll gladly do it.”

“Thank you. You are just too good to me.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

“I guess,” she smiles. “It may seem trivial, but small gestures like these mean the world to me.”

“I’m glad to know. But there’s something else bothering you. I can tell.”

“You know me well.”

“I had a good teacher, I suppose.”

“Damn it, Walter.” Daniels is the only person I know who can curse and still do it with fondness. “I miss him.” Her voice cracks a little, almost imperceptibly. I realize it no longer just sounds exhausted, but also a bit gloomier. “He was a good teacher, I bet,” she comments later, a little less joyful. “Do you miss Jake too?”

“In a way, I think so. I’m not fully aware if I’m able to miss anyone, at least in the same way I think you do. But I know it would be different if he were here.” She looks at me captivated. “I presume, if he were with us, he would be proud of what we’ve accomplished, disaster after disaster and all.”

“Do you think so?”

“I’m only 80% sure,” I lightly comment, knowing there’s a high probability Daniels finds my openness amusing. And I feel at ease when I see her lips curving up slightly in response.

“These past days I’ve been wondering what he would’ve done in my place or in Chris’. Jake was that kind of man who seemed to have an answer to everything. Granted, he was chaotic and impulsive too, but he was my rock. I miss his presence beside me, keeping me centered, keeping me from drifting offshore.”

“He meant a lot to me too.”

“Really? How so?”

“After you and I were introduced, he escorted me to meet the rest of the crew. He wanted to get to know me, odd enough, just like he knew everyone else. It didn’t take him long to find out he knew more about me than I did in the short time I had been on this world. It amused him to confess this. He ended up telling me about him; what he loved and what motivated him; things he had learned; and how one could pretty much acquire experience and knowledge from everything. He promised me he would guide me as much as he could. And he did. Up to this day, he keeps guiding me with his advice.” I stop as we face the closed door to her quarters.

It is then that I see Daniels’ attentive silence has turned into a sad, contemplative one. She looks at me with tenderness as she starts crying, helplessly. What her weeping lacks in whimpers, it soon compensates in tears which fall from her eyes like cascades. My expression must be a mixture of surprise and worry, because she tries to smile to me as if telling me it’s not my fault, but the muscles on her face betray her.

I should’ve known she wasn’t ready to talk about her diceased husband so casually. But, everything in her behavior indicated she was getting over his absence. I thought maybe talking about what we both valued of him would help her see she’s able to access the part of him that lives in her mind whenever she wants to. I guess that’s not enough. Noted. I will not make the same mistake.

My immediate response is to hold my still-sobbing friend, gently, with affection; just like her touch when she handles me. But this time she holds onto me with such desperation, it sets an alarm in me, all over again.

“Shh… It’s alright.” I wouldn’t dare to ask her to hide her emotions. Not now. Not ever.

She weeps, sniveling, almost suffocating when alternating between howling unintelligible words of grieve and breathing in with little spasms. She cannot control it, and it’s okay.

I hug her tightly; letting her cling to me as I pick her up to take her inside. Once I open the door, I’m welcomed with a pristine room. Every surface, clean; all furniture and utensils, in their place. It has even less personal items than last time I was here. The only visible things are a vintage compass next to Daniel’s bonsai by the hexagonal window, and two photographs by the kitchen ─one of a much younger and cheerful Daniels on a lake with her feet in the water and other of the first and last picture we took of the whole crew on the Covenant.

“I’m here, Dani. And I’m not going anywhere...” I carefully deposit her on the bed and remain sat beside her; waiting for her to either ask me to help her with something else, or dismiss me. “…Unless you want me to.”

“Please, don’t.” She murmurs, softly burying her face on my chest. “Stay?”

“Of course.”

Her only response is to squeeze me tighter. So, I turn in her direction welcoming her in my arms. I lift my legs to embrace her with my whole body; pulling her closer to my chest and letting her feel the steady beating of my heart. It’s an instinct: To calm her; to placate her sorrow; to show her affection…, my affection.

“I’ve got you,” I state with conviction. And she rests her side on my torso, pulling up her legs and hugging them around her knees. She looks so vulnerable, yet I know how indomitable she can be. And I feel the need to calm her and tell her how much I admire her. “Let go. You’re no longer drifting. You’re safe. You are…”

You are so brave, so strong after everything we’ve been through, that it astonishes me. You’re smart, ingenious, and your sense of duty goes beyond anything I know. You’re both loving and caring when interacting with the crew. But you’re even nicer to me, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I pay extra attention to you and what you think of me either. But I think you’re beautiful. You are the most thrilling and sympathetic person I’ve known, and I know I haven’t met many people but I don’t need to in order to appreciate it, to appreciate… you.

I want to say that and so much more, but something in me tells me it wouldn’t be appropriate. So, despite the impulse, I keep it to myself. Instead, as a way to thank her for granting me the opportunity to be this intimate with her, I close my eyes and rest my forehead on her nape; allowing her to feel me inhaling and exhaling with ease until our ribcages end up moving in tandem.

“I know,” she then says, just loud enough for me to hear between her sniffles. It takes her another minute to gain some control over her breathing, all the while she keeps her eyes on our feet on the bed.

It’s both her and her body speaking what lets me show her I care for her. That I care after her. And that’s enough. At first, I feel the goosebumps on the back of her neck whenever we breathe and my lips caress her skin. There’s an unusual sensation in all this. I identify it as a warm feeling of being in the right place and doing what I do not because I have to, but because I want to. So, I cradle her with tenderness; with care; with… love.

I feel her relaxing after a moment; loosening her grip on her knees to rest her head on my arm. When she stops crying, I realize how entangled we are: Two bodies fitting together so perfectly it almost looks like just one. I’m not a solid structure caging her, but one preventing her from falling apart.

She can be so soft and fragile from time to time…

I’m thinking this when she lifts her head, resting her gaze on the ceiling. She takes a deep breath and unsuccessfully attempts to dry her tears off with the back of her hands. The result is just a messy, wet, redden face; yet she’s never looked more beautiful to me. Her expression has changed enormously. She’s no longer sad, desperately seeking affection, or contention, but smiling and full of resolve. Still, a dreadful fear invades me as soon as she looks into my eyes.

“I’m sorry. Did I…?” I barely move to retreat my hand and she stops me.

“No. Don’t be silly, Walter. You did nothing wrong,” she frowns, resting her head on my shoulder and her back on my chest, hinting me not to recoil. Once more, she knows exactly what I’m talking about and how to soothe those around her.

“But, what I said earlier…”

“I don’t know what happened, really. I just heard you speaking so fondly of Jake and…” She gulps, closing her eyes and clenching her hands on her lap. “I don’t know, maybe it was hearing you talking about him as if he was still alive. But I think what really hit me was… I never expected you of all people would’ve got to know him so well.” She says, placing her hands on my knee and slowly looking back at me.

I know what she’s talking about. But, how do I get her to talk about her late husband in a way that doesn’t hurt her? Maybe if I’m honest and I keep hugging her…

“I wouldn’t say that I know him. I only met the crew days before this mission started,” I state, no longer sure I believe my words. It depends on how one looks at it, I guess. Former Captain Jacob Branson and I didn’t get to spend much time together, yet, he made that time count.

“Still, what you said, it was so accurate.” She breathes in and out, hugging herself in my arms. “And then, you were so caring…”

“You don’t think I'm overstepping, then?”

“What!? No. No, you're not.” Her words take a weight off my shoulders, so to speak. “Thank you. For staying... For this. I missed it.” Her jaw shakes and her voice quivers, threatening to brake any instant now. “Sometimes, I miss my friends; my family… I miss…” She gulps.

Intuitively, I cradle her head in my hand and move, so we can lay on the bed comfortably despite not seeing each other’s faces, which seems to ease her. After a few seconds I rest my cheek on hers, just in case, and I feel a timid smile taking over her features for a fraction of a second.

“You miss... Jacob?” I cautiously venture then, following my instinct.

She lowers her gaze and admits in a whisper: “Yes.”

“Do you miss him now?” I ask after a moment and she shifts.

“Not so desperately. No. I’ll never stop loving him, but just for a while, it’s nice not to… long for his presence.”

A tranquil silence falls in the room for the next minute after her confession. I look to the window in front of me, into the infinite space, and I get lost in the reflection. She looks so small, curled up and nestled in my arms. There’s still that soft smile in her glistening eyes, but this time they convey that endless fondness of hers. She must feel me staring, because she looks straight at me on the window and beams. Her expression only accentuating. It is not often that she looks at someone with those eyes; hence, it’s an honor to have her looking at me like this. Slowly, her eyebrows arch in wonder as if with controlled surprise. There’s no fear in her eyes, just understanding.

But, understanding what?

It takes me some time to speak again:

“It hasn’t escaped to me that you didn’t answer my question earlier. You don’t have to…, if you don’t want to. But here I am if you need to talk, or if you just want me to listen.”

It may be that we’re this close, the fact we can see each other’s faces clearly on our reflection, or something entirely different; but she slowly gathers the strength to formulate her question as she covers us with a throw blanket:

“Would you mind…?”

She needs a little encouragement, though, which I’m happy to provide:

“You can trust me. You know I won’t judge you, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know, Walter,” she sighs. “This is going to sound absurd, but…, would you mind holding me until I fall asleep? Like last night?”

“Like this?” I ask, teasingly pointing out I’ve been holding her this way for several minutes now. Still, I cradle her with my whole body as asked. This time, though, it feels way more affectionate and intimate, and just as right as last night.

“Well…, yeah.” She timidly gets even closer, practically gluing herself to me, and she rests a gentle hand on my waist. “Like this.”

“There’s nothing absurd in seeking affection, and you know I like assisting you in any way I’m able.”

“Oh, so you…, don’t mind?”

“Quite the opposite. In fact…,” I move to whisper in her ear: “I find it very pleasant and relaxing to hug you”.

“Oh…” If she was blushing already, now I feel her whole face going red. She radiates not only heat but, somehow, also a pleasant and kind emotion as she admits: “So do I”.

Her confession makes me warm inside.

“Sleep now. I’m not going anywhere.”

I’m right where I want to be.

“Good night, Walter,” she jokes, conscious of the absurd idea of day and night on a starship.

“Good night, Dani.” I gingerly rest my lips on her cheek, feeling her smile.

It might be because of the dimmer lights reacting to the repeated voice command, or just her playful and audacious nature taking over, but she pecks me on the neck right on my pulse point before snuggling in my arms and finally dozing.

I’m shocked but I beam, nevertheless, both contempt with the display of affection and touched she trusts me this much.

Damn it, David. You were right.

A tear rolls off my eye when I realize I do love her; yet, as android and master, this is the closest to kissing we’ll ever get.

Chapter Text

[Walter's POV]

“Would you like me to arrange a service for the crewmembers we lost?” I offer while setting the table in Daniels’ cabin. “I’m programmed to perform multiple funeral services in a variety of denominations.” I raise my voice so she can hear me over the noise of the whisker hitting the bowl in which today she’s mixing eggs for breakfast. “I can have everything prepared after Officer Oram wakes up, so everyone is present…, even if it’s from behind a screen.”

“Yes, please.” She replies at the other side of the bar, on the kitchen area. “That’s… That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s just my programming…”

“No, it’s not.” She puts everything down to hold my hand.

“It’s funny,” I comment, amused, curving my lips up as I look at our hands and then up at her. I would’ve have expected she smiled back, but she’s practically staring at me with an even more stern look than before. My cheerful expression immediately disappears when I see frustration; determination; and a hint of pain written all over her face, forcing me to continue: “David keeps telling me there’s more in me than just what I’ve been ordered or programmed to do. And you keep correcting me whenever I mention my programming as the main reason I’m attentive. I wonder, is there something I’m missing?”

“Just let us enjoy the magic while we still believe in it, Walter,” she teases, cryptically; although, apparently appeased by my curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

First hand, I don’t know much of emotions. But if I have to put a name to what I experience the instant I ask this, it would be fear. Fear that, despite knowing I’m the mission's android, she chooses to ignore this fact just to be comfortable around me.

Does my artificial body, my robotic manners, somehow incommode her? It’s that the reason everyone welcomed David so easily while they spent weeks getting used to me? Does pretending I’m just another colleague, or a friend, make it easier to interact with me? But, that was the whole point of making me like this, wasn’t it? And finally, why suddenly it’s so important what Daniels thinks of me?

“David is right,” she explains, cautiously kissing my knuckles. “You may not see it just yet, but he understands you are more than an android to us.”

It is amazing how with a few words Daniels dissipates most of my reservations.

I wonder what it means ‘more than an android’ to her, though.

“Like, when you call me your friend?” I gently stroke the back of her hand with my thumb to correspond the gesture of affection, but I squeeze her hand just to keep her close. Something I then register as a selfish ─hence, untenable─ reason.

“Yes, Walter. Or whenever we call you by your name. You’re not just a machine, but our crewmate and my friend. And yes, you were programmed to make us feel comfortable, to keep us safe. Then again, the methods you chose to do so…, that’s the beauty of it. So, please, don’t dismiss my appreciation when I tell you how kind you are. I like your kindness. I like you.” She emphasizes this; suddenly yet gently stroking my face.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.” I involuntarily lower my head, seeking the comforting sensation of her hand on my cheek.

Is this okay?

“No need to regret it every single time you think you’re wrong,” she lightly reprimands me now cradling my face with both hands to add: “Mistakes are an important part of learning. Don’t forget that”.

“I’ll remember it, Dani.” Although with apologetic eyes, I give her an honest smile.

“You better, buddy.” She smirks; takes a step back to take a better look at my face, and ruffles my hair. It surprises me how she keeps finding ways to have a positive impact on everyone around her. And now is not the exception. For the way I react to her, one could even say she makes me ‘feel’ comfortable ─if androids do in fact feel, of course. "Walter?" She pours the mix in the bowl on the sizzling frying pan as if she hadn’t just messed with my hair and my cheeks weren’t warmer because of that. “Would you like one too?” She offers, pointing to her food.

I shrug, fixing my hair. “Sure thing. Thank you.”

‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’, they say. Except that my answer has nothing to do with the saying. There’s something about her invitation that sounds genuinely tempting. And I notice after resuming our tasks that we can’t help to smile whenever our gazes cross.

Can androids crave?

I don’t let these new thoughts and sensations ruin my mood, or Daniels’ for that matter. And so, it is a pretty much uneventful breakfast until Tennessee calls up to let us know how the crew is doing:

“The surgery was a success, even without all medical devices working. But Oram won’t be back on duty for weeks, at least. David is still looking after him until he awakes, so, we’re taking Mother offline now before next jump. She needs a full diagnostic. It’ll take several minutes. Hours, even. I just wanted to tell you and to know if you two need anything...”

“No. I don’t think so…,” Daniels confirms, looking in my direction.

“We can manage until Mother is fully operational.”

“Walter’s right. Thank you, Tee. How’s everyone else doing?”

“Cole and Lopé are about to disinfect the parts of the ship you guys used and set everything according to quarantine protocols. Ricks and Upworth are preparing to go back into cryo-sleep in the next cycle, as planned. I told them I’ll follow them after Oram’s back, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is, Tee. I can’t thank you guys enough for what you’re doing.”

“It’s the least we can do after what you did back there, Dani. Wait. Does this mean I have to call you Captain now?” He asks in jest, yet, with a hint of melancholy in his voice.

“Fuck, yes!” Daniels singsongs, smirking. “At least until Chris is feeling better.”

“Congratulations, then, Captain.” He raises his mug on the screen and Daniels and I do the same with our glasses of juice. However, the atmosphere changes abruptly when they realize that, despite the familiar jokes, not everything is the same.

Again, I’m not entirely sure whether it is being reminded of the events that forced us to leave the planet the way we did, or the fact that last time we shared a drink it was in the funeral of Daniels’ husband and in presence of Tennessee’s recently deceased wife. A combination of both, probably. Former captain Jacob Branson was supposed to be our leader at least until settling on Origae-6, and Pilot Maggie Faris was the one who was going to get us there.

No one was prepared for this scenario.

Pilot Tennessee is the first one to break down, followed by Daniels who, after her emotional collapse hours ago, seems to handle the situation slightly better. She’s the one to speak first, asking her friend how he’s taking his wife’s death. Oddly enough, she offers good many advice to cope with a loved one’s lost she could follow herself. Several of which I’ve already thought of and I’m currently implementing.

“Walter was thinking a collective funeral would be nice,” she dries the tears on her face.

“I think, given the consequences and even if we couldn’t recuperate their remains, a small gathering to commemorate the life of the crewmates and those who are no longer with us will have a positive effect on the crew. I got the idea from former captain Branson’s interment and Doctor Shaw’s tombstone. There’s a grave on that citadel on Planet 4 with the name of the only survivor of the Prometheus mission. David didn’t bury her body there, though. Instead, and in his words, he buried the emotions keeping him from moving on,” I explain, seeing their puzzled faces. “I understand it might sound unorthodox, but I’ve seen the positive effects in both of you after participating in Captain Jacob Branson's funeral.” Compared to the rest of the crew, Daniels and Tennessee seemed to assimilate better the horrible outcomes of the overcharge and the subsequent loses we suffered.

“What do you think, Tee?”

“I think I’d like that. God knows I need it,” he admits. This time, his voice is a bit less broken.

“It’ll be in isolation, I’m afraid.”

“Quarantine protocols dictate so.” I add.

“I think I like it better that way. It’ll be more private. Knowing you’ll be nearby to say goodbye to Maggie is enough.”

“It’s settled, then,” Daniels smiles to us.

“I’ll let everyone know,” I add.

“Thank you, guys.”

“You’re welcome, Tee,” we reply at the same time.

[David's POV]

My dear Elizabeth was a survivor. From childhood to her last breath, she tried to understand her world and those around her. Like most humans I’ve known, she believed in forces beyond herself and mankind. But first and foremost, Elizabeth Shaw believed in being capable of taking control; taking control of the situation, of life and her future ─a concept I’m now familiar with and one of the reasons I was immediately captivated by her. She did what she could to fight these forces; to confront these Engineers; face her God, and whoever dared antagonise her.

She wasn’t good at giving up. She confessed so the first time I saw her before we personally met, and I had no doubts about it by the time I got the chance to peer into her mind and most private dreams. Even if she doubted her strength after witnessing the tragic end of the rest of the Prometheus’ company, I did not. I was certain of her tenacity; her courage and compassion. Qualities one doesn’t often find in the same person. Qualities which compelled her not to return to Earth when she perfectly could.

Financially speaking, by handing the alien vessel we stole to Weyland Corp, or just by selling parts of its technology to a third party, she could have secured her future –along with her children’s and grandchildren’s had she wanted, had she been able to have them in the first place– but she chose to head the other way. When I asked why we weren’t going back, she told me I would never comprehend; that there are some things robots just cannot understand: The need for an explanation; thirst for revenge; hope and love, to name a few. Thus, we left LV-223. She was going to know why the Engineers decided to abort their creation millennia ago. She was going to make them change their minds and demand another chance for humanity. She was willing to convince God Himself if she had to.

“Even after all this, you still believe, don’t you?” I asked her then.

She never gave me a straight answer, but she never took that silver cross off either. On the other hand, she did remove Doctor Holloway’s ring from her finger whenever she had to do something her husband wouldn’t have agreed with; like while contemplating the consequences of our discoveries, or when looking for the best way to communicate with the Engineers.

Who would have thought she wouldn’t end up influencing humans’ makers, but me, a humans’ creation, instead? That last day we spent together, my beloved Elizabeth Shaw taught me the importance of what I, as a synthetic, would supposedly never grasp. What I’d give to have her back and show her how wrong she was. I’ve got all these years after her death to think of it; to become acquainted with the concepts; to compare them with my own experiences and, of course, to practice.

Need.
Revenge.
Hope.
Love.

To be honest, I cannot say I excel at every single one of these ‘impossible’ things. Still, she’d be proud of me. Bear in mind, every day after they took her away from me, I’ve gotten better. After all, I was made to achieve perfection; and I’m only a few steps away from it.

I made a promise I intend to keep.

That’s why I’m doing this. I spent a decade seeking a solution ─a way out─, trying to honour her memory, and I’m not going to let an illusion ─the false promise of a happy ending─ crush my resolve. I have been studying the crew and exploring the Covenant for the last hours since I arrived. I’ve checked it several times. I’ve got all I need right here.

All I have to do now…
…is wait.

When returning to the med bay after attending to what ended up being both a debriefing and briefing session on the bridge, I realise I’m pleased with myself and with my performance. In effect, I don’t suppress my smile as I enter the room, for I am ready to unravel the secrets of my specimen. The sharp-clawed, grey, alien hand is in remarkable condition in spite of the poor treatment it received hours ago from the soldiers and the nurse.

In contrast, the sleeping, former captain at the other end of the room looks emaciated. After all he’s been through, I wonder how he’s still alive:

“How much time does he have left, though?”

“Walter? Where am I?” He moans in pain, later.

“Not quite,” I reply amused, lifting my eyes from the remains of the resilient beast I study. It would be easy to pretend to be Walter, I suppose, but I don’t have to. I don’t want to, either. “We’re on the Covenant, in the med bay, and I’m here to monitor your recovery,” I add in a soothing manner, walking to him. “You’ve just woken up from surgery and you’re in a delicate condition. Heavily sedated too. Now, take it easy. Do not attempt to stand up and walk all by yourself.”

“Mother!? What happened?” He asks, panicking.

“A few things have changed since we last spoke, I’m afraid.” I catch him on time, placing my hands on his shoulders and preventing him from standing up. Yet, I’m forced to step back as soon as he jerks; his eyes widening in fear and his face contorting in pain. I can’t let him hurt himself trying to escape from me, so I return to my improvised workstation. “I advise you not to move. You suffered multiple important injuries and your femoral artery, as well as your ribcage, were compromised. I understand you may be in shock, but for your own good you must remain calm.”

“What happened to me?” He still doesn’t trust me, I can tell, but at least he remains on the bed, waiting for an explanation as he surveys his surroundings. “Where’s everybody?”

“They are safe, resting in their respective cabins,” I answer, noticing the man’s confusion. “You almost bleed out, and if it wasn’t for me and the other crew members, you’d be dead long ago.” The distance between us along with this new information seems to settle him down; hence, I keep informing him: “You had a contusion; there are penetrating injuries in your abdomen and legs, and most of your ribs are broken. So, I insist. Do not attempt to stand up or move without the supervision of a medic, or the assistance of somebody with medical training, for that matter.”

“No surprise it hurts everywhere, then,” he scoffs, checking his wounds. “Mother.” He tries again: “Mother!?” His heart rate accelerating as the seconds pass. “Walter?” He calls for my brother when the ship’s Artificial Intelligence does not respond.

“You may say their names as many times as you want and you’ll get the same result,” I can’t help to comment, smirking. But then, as the man keeps calling one by one for everyone ─anyone─ looking up to the ceiling as if that was going to make a difference, I groan abandoning my analysis and, pitting him, I state in a gentler tone of voice: “They are not here, but I am. In fact, I am here to take care of you, sir.” I both remark and add the title to reassure him. It did the trick last time we were alone. ‘A smart hammer and not a smartass’, I remember it perfectly; although, then I was thinking that if I kept playing the submissive role he might not be a nuisance. Now, in contrast, I just feel sorry for the man. “Is there anything you need?”

He heaves a sigh, defeated.

“What’s going on, David?” Even if a hint of distrust remains in his voice, this time there are no signs of resentment.

“I’m afraid it is just the two of us now. And it will be for the rest of the day if no inconvenient arises. Mother is being rebooted as most of the machines onboard. Apparently, the combination of the stellar flare event that hit the spaceship, along with the plasma storm, affected more equipment than expected. Since quarantine fail-safes were ordered at the ground party’s return, I volunteered to watch you and guard the med bay.”

“You volunteered?” He asks in disbelief.

“I must say, insults and all, I found you extremely peculiar.” I smile. “But do not worry. I’m not here just for you.” I point to the severed, alien hand and forearm before me, which is enclosed and exhibited behind glass. “I was examining the properties of the specimen that almost took your life. This is all that’s left of it, I assure you,” I add, before the man does something reckless.

“Last time you assured me anything I… I… What did you do to me? Argh!” Confused, he attempts to recoil on the bed, as far away from me as possible, but the pain is stronger than his will.

“What did I do to you?” I ask him back. “Please, be reasonable. Had I wanted to kill you, sir, I would have done it already. We’ve been alone for hours and all I’ve done to you is watching you.”

“What happened after we found Rosenthal, then?” He heaves, trying to find a way to rest on his side that isn’t painful. “I don’t remember much after it.”

“You don’t remember what I showed you; what we found deeper into the building, or what struck you? That inconceivable creature jumping not at me, but directly at you? You don’t remember me taking you back to the surface; handing you to the soldiers, or you and your colleagues then trying to ambush that formidable beast?” I ask, sceptical. “What about how you got those wounds?”

“I remember that last part. I remember the pain, the fear. That demon roaring on my face and… fragments.”

“I fought alongside Walter and your crew to rescue you, that’s what happened. We all risked our lives to retrieve you and get out of there.”

“You don’t have a life to risk…” The insufferable man scoffs.

Who’s the smartass now?

“Still, the crew; Walter and I risked everything we had to defeat that last beast and get you here on time. You ought to acknowledge at least that,” I unsympathetically retort, not parting my eyes from his.

A death silence falls for the next seconds before the man looks down, ceasing the verbal fire. I’m not proud, but someone had to show him his place.

If this is how he usually treats his crew…

“I guess I should be thanking you, not interrogating or accusing you,” he replies apologetically once he considers it. “I’m sorry, David,” the fellow scientist whispers and I feel something inside me cracking.

Do androids possess hearts? If so, how many times can mine break?

“I’m sorry, David.” Once, my dear Elizabeth Shaw uttered those exact same words. That was the first time I heard them, and a decade has passed since then. “I’m so sorry. For someone made of wires and silicon, you have a big, warm heart.” It was the closest thing to a confession I got to hear from her. It was during the last day we spent together, and I never imagined I would think of this moment again. “I wish I could’ve seen past my hatred and appreciated how selfless you’ve always been.” Seeing I was following orders I could not refuse, she had finally found the strength to forgive me for my past transgressions.

Did I really have no options?

“That’s not of importance now.” I wipe my tears away, and I do hope he doesn’t notice. “I’d like to perform a quick medical examination on you now.” I change the topic, knowing that to the scientist the truth is as hard to accept as it is to me. “With your permission, of course.”

“Sure, but not without someone else present,” he asks, this time, politely.

It is an unspoken understanding. An unexpected but needed truce.

“That can easily be arranged,” I reply, entering the command on the computer.

[Walter's POV]

As soon as I step into the med bay as requested, I’m assaulted by Officer Oram’s questions while he tries to stand, demanding my full attention. Fortunately, I manage to hold him before he hurts himself. I frown upon David’s indifference as I help the officer to sit and I listen to his inquiries.

“Don’t reprimand me, brother,” David immediately comments, without parting his eyes from the securely contained alien hand and forearm that he studies. It is mainly the lighting and its upright position inside a glass cylinder, but the creature’s remains remind me of the T-800 robot arm from Terminator 2. It is my favorite movie, although I haven't watched many. Only two of them so far.

I wonder if Daniels would like to watch a movie with me later…

“I already warned him. He just won’t listen,” my brother adds.

“Is that so?” I ask Oram, quickly checking the monitors, and all the way from the catheters to his bags, and the different drips entering his bloodstream.

Good. Everything is in order.

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” the scientist apologetically excuses, seeing my reaction.

I’m forced to ask both David and him to be more cooperative with each other before I finally answer my superior’s questions, which seems to appease him:

“Yes, Officer Oram. Everything David told you is right. Since most of the exam equipment in this area can’t be used until Mother is back on, David and I need to manually perform a series of medical examinations to assess the damage in your body.”

“Officer?” He repeats his title, confused.

“I feel I should let you know that, given the circumstances, you are no longer Captain; nor in a position to perform all your responsibilities as the Head Scientist on board,” David informs him, finishing inspecting the remains of the beast. “We did think you wouldn’t make it, sir.”

“Daniels is Captain now...,” I add, “and David is Science Officer.” The dumbfounded expression on the scientist’s face seems to amuse my brother, who smirks, putting gear and instruments aside while the man assimilates the new information. “Now, if you excuse us, we’d like to examine you.”

“Go on then, Walter,” he says with resignation.

I confirm David has already set everything for us as I put on the gloves. And not waiting for me to ask for assistance, he stands up and comes to us:

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrible, but I’ll live,” Oram scoffs, which makes David simper.

“Does it hurt somewhere in particular?” I ignore my superior’s dark humor in order to check his drainage bag before touching his thighs and trunk to feel for lumps; swollen tissue, or broken bones.

“David says the terrible pain in my ribcage, stomach, and leg is to be expected considering the damage. The discomfort of the bruises everywhere else won’t be a problem, except for…”

“Here?” I press lightly.

“Fuuuck, Walter! Yes! Right there. How did you know?”

“David is right. You have at least six broken ribs, for sure. I’d like to scan your torso as soon as possible to discard there are any complications.”

“He didn’t remember a few key moments previous to the rescue,” David points out.

“It’s fine, I still remember most part of the day. Nothing to worry about, right Walter?”

“I suppose the slight memory loss can be a side effect of the drugs and the hit to the head. Are you feeling any dizziness?”

“No. Just a slight headache.”

“It’s to be expected. Please, let us know if it persists, or if you still can’t remember anything tomorrow. We’ll conclude with an eye exam, to be sure there was no major damage. After that, I’ll give you some pills for the pain and headache. Any difficulty to breathe normally?”

“It hurts whenever I move. And when I inhale and exhale deeply.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to do exactly that, sir,” my brother apologetically explains, placing the stethoscope on Oram’s chest.

“How long I’m supposed to stay here, Walter?” The scientist asks once we’re done.

“A week, at least. Until your wounds heal and you can move on your own.”

“Does he have to stay here?” Oram lowers his voice, pointing to a busy David who’s back working on the alien limb.

“David is here to monitor your recovery.”

“Can’t anyone else do it?”

“It would be ill advised to bring another crew member to the med bay while on quarantine, and when David and I are perfectly available. We must remain isolated for another three weeks to prevent any contagion. The blood tests haven’t shown anything conclusive yet, but we must be cautious.”

“If it’s his wish, brother, I can move somewhere else to continue studying the specimen’s arm,” David offers, clearly having heard our conversation. “But I thought he would want someone to talk while he recovers and I work. Besides, as a fellow Science Officer, I know he’ll like to actively participate in any discovery we make. Several days all by yourself may be quite boring. Besides, I’ve already moved most of the things I’ll be needing to this med bay and the adjacent room.”

“What do you say, officer?”

He sighs and replies: “I guess David and I can work together for a few days. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Of course. Please, take it easy. Do not refrain from asking David or calling for me if you need anything.”

“I won’t,” he says as his stomach growls.

“If you excuse me now, I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“Thank you, Walter.”

David’s mindful look on Oram doesn’t scape my attention, making me ask:

“Do you need anything, David?”

“No, thank you, brother,” he replies even more impressed, but he doesn’t comment on the politeness he’s found on the Covenant as we’re soon distracted by a bleeping screen.

It is Daniels, checking on Oram:

“Hey, Chris! Welcome back! How are you feeling?”

[David's POV]

Walter is about to leave after administrating Oram a new dose of sedatives when he stops in his track to inform us:

“A service is scheduled tonight for the crewmates we lost. You are welcomed to join us if you chose so,” he extends the invitation to both of us, not just the scientist. “You wouldn’t have to leave the med bay.”

“A funeral? Tonight?” Oram asks, and having Walter confirm it, he says: “I don’t think we’re ready for one;” which seems to upset my brother.

“It won’t be just a funeral, sir,” I clarify, analysing their words. “It’s a service for the whole lost Covenant’s company. I don’t want to push you, but I think it’s expected we all attend, isn’t it, Walter?”

“That’s up to him to decide, David.” Despite looking hurt for the man’s statement seconds ago, Walter stands up for him.

“We just came back. Aren’t there other more essential things to address first?” The Science Officer explains.

“No, sir. Aside from completing each department’s report for the company; cataloguing the samples we brought with us, and fixing the broken medical examination devices, there are no other tasks to finish. In fact, Officers Upworth; Ricks and Tennessee are going into cryosleep once we make the next jump, which is programmed an hour after the funeral service.”

“I’ll let the crew know if I’m attending, then,” the scientist says, to what Walter nods and closes the door behind him, taking Oram’s empty food tray with him. It takes the man less than a minute to speak again and ask me: “You want to be there, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“I don’t know if ‘want’ is the right word, but you’d rather be present. You want me to be there too. Why is that?”

In all the years I’ve existed, not many have managed to ‘read’ me so easily. Truth. Most have not even bothered to try. But of the few who have, just two have gotten to either frequently predict my moves, guess my thoughts and deduce my intentions; or understand my experiences and comprehend ─if you don’t mind calling them like this─ my feelings: The nuisance of Meredith Vickers and my charming Elizabeth Shaw respectively. That is until now.

Am I that obvious?
Maybe I should be honest with him…

“I lost everyone I knew before meeting you and your crew, and I’ve already moved on. It took me years, though. But, considering I will outlive you, that is a privilege you simply cannot have.”

“What if I’m just not prepared?”

“I’m just saying, it will be beneficial for you, sir. To come to terms with… yourself, if I may say so. No matter how hard you refuse to believe it, there is no good in postponing to acknowledge what deep down you know is true. As far as I understand, you lost half your expedition team, sir, and half your crew remains. There’s no way to know if another tragic event will take the Covenant by surprise in the next days. They need you there with them today. Not to remind them what happened, but to assure them and yourself that, captain or not, in the future you’ll still be there for them; even if you can’t keep your promise. The gesture will mean everything to them. And I bet I’ll mean a lot to you too.”

“What makes you think they want me there, in the first place? It was my decision what put us in this situation. I told them to explore Planet 4.”

“What they want is not under discussion. What you need, however… What you all need is closure, thrust me. You won’t get a chance like this one to say your good-byes. Besides, what happened was not your fault, and I am sure your crewmates know that already. You may have been their leader, but you are not responsible for how those beasts behaved when encountering you, nor are you accountable for how your team reacted when unexpectedly forced to confront them. Not even I could have predicted what took place. Trust me, sir, I have been working, experimenting on alien lifeforms for ten years now and nothing ever suggested the pathogen would react the way it did.”

“It was just bad luck, eh?” He retorts, not convinced.

“No. It was the smallest of probabilities finding its way to come true. Too small to even consider it. We just didn’t foresee it.”

“You don’t believe in luck, David?”

“I rather have everything under control; take every variable into consideration.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “Yet…, ‘choices in life are all too often not made by us, but for us’,” he recites to himself as if he had learnt that from someone else.

“And you, sir. Do you believe in luck?”

“I’m supposed to believe in miracles. I was raised Pentecostal, but I chose this career after all. I guess you could say it was because back then I lacked faith. I don’t regret it though. I’ve never told this to anyone. Not even my wife. And to think that Karim got us into this job in Wey-Yu for exactly the opposite reason... I never expected to get my faith back in this field, but it happened. She believed this mission had the power to build a new civilization with everything humankind would ever need. Imagine it, David…,” surprisingly, he says. His eyes, practically glowing. “…A perfect Eden and we would be the ones responsible for its existence.”

“Odd enough, I can.”

“It’s not odd. Everyone envisions something, whether they’re aware of it or not,” the scientist states, conscious he’s basically saying we are not that different.

At this point, I’m not sure whether it is his resignation or the analgesics talking. This is not the desperate-to-be-in-control man who despises synthetics that I met hours ago. This is just a man longing for connection; companionship; understanding. And the more I listen to him, the deeper I dig into his soul, the more complex I find him.

“And what do you envision, sir?”

“Right now? I see Karim’s gentle smile. She’s happy to see me. She hugs me and welcomes me. But I know it can’t be true. I lost her forever. ‘Til death do us part’, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way; you know? I have met people to whom the departure of a loved one has only accentuated their love for them.”

“But it’s a one-way love, though.”

“Who says it has to be that way? It’s what one chooses to believe what makes all the difference. If one keeps their eyes open, if one knows how to seek gestures of love, one finds them in the most unconventional places.”

“I found love in Karim. She was always there for me, to give me quiet counsel when I needed it most. Meanwhile, I gave her a new perspective, whether she asked for it or not. I don’t know what she saw in me, but I thank God for putting that woman in my path.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in miracles.”

“I said I was supposed to. And I do when it comes to my wife ─and everyone and everything I love. She’s the reason I’m here, for starters. Have you ever met someone who makes you believe in miracles? Or, at least, someone who makes you want to believe in them?”

“I have,” I reply. My dear Elizabeth immediately coming to mind.

“They’re the kind of person who makes you want to be the best version of yourself.”

“They’re the kind of person who sees beauty where nobody else finds it.”

“Well, that was my wife.”

“That was my dear…,” I stop before uttering her name.

“Say what you want, David, but I don’t think you’ve moved on. You still miss them, whoever this person is. Is that why you’d like to be present in the service?”

“Would you laugh at me if I said yes?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Then, yes.”

“I can’t blame you. After all, being there tonight is the least I can do for the crew, for Karim, and for me.”

“I promise you won’t regret it.”

“You’re funny, David,” he admits.

“So are you, Christopher,” I venture to say; and he laughs.

“Owwgh! Don’t do that. It hurts.”

“My apologies, sir,” I genuinely state, giving him a new dose of painkillers. “…But you did laugh,” I add, smiling as he relaxes when feeling the opioids entering his system through the IV.

This time, having learnt the lesson, Oram just grins.

“What do you believe in, David?” He asks, minutes later.

“Creation,” I answer after thinking about it for a while.

“Hmm. So do I,” the Chief Science Officer with the responsibility of an interstellar terraforming and colonisation mission resting on his shoulders replies, dozing off.