“Beacon?” Holly said from the doorway, back from her walk with Owen. She wiped her wet hands on her jumpsuit and paced into the room. “Thanks for the help,” she muttered as she passed Emanuel. “Owen’s sleeping peacefully,” she added.
Emanuel frowned sheepishly and moved out of her way.
“Yes, Dr. Brown. There is a signal coming from a set of coordinates on the southern outskirts of Colorado Springs.” Alexia continued.
“Could it be NTC?” Sophie blurted. Her voice was louder than she had wanted it to be. Filled with excitement. Perhaps someone was out there, more people who had made it, like the Marines and Owen. Perhaps they weren’t alone after all.
“Preliminary scans show that this is some sort of emergency beacon,” Alexia replied.
“Another survivor looking for help?” Holly asked.
“More than likely,” Emanuel said. “This really doesn’t add anything useful to what we already know. So there’s a beacon—so what?”
“So it could be someone that knows more about what’s going on than we do,” Overton said.
“Which isn’t saying much,” Holly said. “Considering we don’t know much at all.”
Emanuel shook his head. “We know enough to know it’s a bad idea to go back outside.”
“I’m going to have to agree with him for once,” Timothy quipped, pointing at the biologist.
Sophie held both of her palms in the air. “Hold on, everyone. We’re all jumping to conclusions here. We listened to Sergeant Overton. Now let’s give Alexia a chance, and then I’ll continue with my theory. Deal?”
The team looked back at her, and one by one they nodded their heads.
“Okay then. Alexia, tell us everything you know about this ‘beacon.’ ”
“Certainly, Dr. Winston. At 1900 hours our external sensors began picking up a signal from the following coordinates: latitude 38.643555°, longitude -104.930330°. It’s coming from Turkey Canyon Road, along the West Fork Turkey Creek. Please note that the creek is no longer there.”
Sophie saw Overton take out a pen and mark the location on his hand discreetly. Great, she mused. Now the Marine would have more of a reason to go back outside and look for his team.
“Due to the timing of the activation, I have concluded this was not an automatic signal. Someone turned it on,” Alexia said. “Considering there are no other emergency signals within range of our scanners, it would be safe to deduce that this is a unique event. Someone out there wants to be found.”
“Or it could be a trap. How do we know this signal is coming from a human source?” Emanuel asked with a brow raised.
“The signal is being transmitted over an encrypted NTC channel. I found it while running a scan. It’s likely from a human source, Dr. Rodriguez.”
“So it is NTC?” Sophie asked.
“Not necessarily.” Alexia’s image faded and her voice transferred to the com. “My database does not show any NTC facilities at that location.”
Emanuel ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to Sophie. “What do you think?” he whispered.
She shrugged and decided to hold off further discussion of the signal. “Let’s table this for now and talk about what we know.” Pausing, she looked around the room. Each member of her team shared the same puzzled look.
“The radio messages Sergeant Overton and his men heard indicated the sky had not only changed colors but there was some sort of mist. This leads me to believe surface water was being vaporized into the sky. If there was enough of it, from lakes, rivers, and so on, then it could potentially have this effect. But that’s not where my theory becomes stretched,” she said, strolling toward a desk in the corner of the room. She reached for a glass of water and held it for the team to see. “Most people don’t realize it, but the human body is 70 percent this,” she said, dumping the water on the ground.
“No fucking way,” Timothy said sarcastically. “Like we didn’t all learn that in middle school.”
“As I was saying, the human body is mostly water. What if the Organics have some way of scanning for it? And what if they have a way of removing it from our bodies? What if the orbs are human-sized petri dishes with one purpose: to drain the host of every ounce of water in its body?”
Overton crossed his thick arms. “Is that what happened to Saafi?”
“I believe so. When the drone’s beam captured him and Emanuel, I saw some drops of liquid rising from their bodies toward the craft. And . . .” she paused and looked at a camera protruding from the wall. “Alexia, do you recall what Saafi’s water composition was when he first got back to the Biosphere?”
“Yes, Dr. Winston. He had lost over 15 percent of his water density.”
“Ding, there you have it,” Emanuel said. “Sophie’s right. Owen survived because the Organics didn’t pick him up with whatever scanning technology they have to detect water sources. Something wasn’t calibrated right.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t figure out a way to do so,” Sergeant Overton said. “If they have the ability to suck every ounce of water from the surface of the Earth, then they will find a way to get to the hard stuff.”
“Like the pond in Biome 2,” Holly suggested.
“And whoever’s at the other end of that beacon,” Overton added.
“Exactly. I’m guessing this attack will come in surges. Get the easy stuff first and then move on to the rest,” Emanuel said.
“All the more reason to check out this signal, like, now,” Overton said. “Maybe this person knows how to stop them.”
Sophie glanced over at him. A single vein was bulging on his shiny forehead. She knew he wanted an excuse to go outside and not only find his team, but also lead his ‘offensive’. This was his excuse—this was the ammo he needed.
But could she blame him? If Owen had managed to survive and make it all the way to Cheyenne Mountain, then other people could be out there, too. Was it worth risking her team for? If someone had asked her a few minutes ago, she probably would have answered no. But the game had changed. A beacon, activated on an encrypted NTC channel—the only channel that was transmitting anything in the radius of their scanners—had been discovered. She knew it didn’t necessarily mean salvation, but it could mean answers. And that was worth the risk.
“I think you’re right,” Sophie said, pausing for everyone’s attention.
“Oh no, please tell me you aren’t going where I think you’re going with this!” Timothy interrupted.
“If Owen survived, that means other people did, too,” Sophie said.
“She’s right. There might be other people out there. Other people that need our help,” Overton said. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins.
“Timothy. You have family, right?” Sophie said. “A brother you’re close with?”
The programmer’s animated face suddenly reverted to the unemotional one everyone was used to seeing. “What does Casey have to do with this?”
“He could have survived, just like Owen,” Sophie lied. She knew the chances were slim, but she had to convince her team that it was worth leaving the safety of the Biosphere. If finding the beacon wasn’t reason enough, maybe human life would be.
“We have to save everyone that we can,” Sophie said confidently. She scanned the room again. It was time to take a vote.
“We’re all in this together now, and I believe everyone should have a voice. As team lead, I’m putting this to a vote. Those that think we should travel to the coordinates and look for survivors along the way, raise your hand.”
“I strongly object,” Emanuel said.
Sophie had had a feeling she would lose him on this one. After all, Emanuel was a man who required evidence; a signal and the possibility of finding survivors was simply not enough to warrant a yes vote from him. Surprisingly, though, the rest of the room was fil
led with raised hands. Even Holly, who was looking at the floor sheepishly, had her arm in the air.
“It’s settled, then,” she said putting her hand on her hips.
Emanuel shot Sophie a look from the corner and managed a smile. He knew at this point nothing he could say would convince her to stay. All he could do was mouth “Be careful” before he limped into the hallway and disappeared.
Overton’s rough voice distracted Sophie, and she forgot Emanuel for the moment. “Gear up, Marines. We have a job to do!”
Sophie smiled. She was beginning to like the sergeant.
* * *
Biome 4 was full of commotion. Finley and Bouma scurried about, packing up last-minute gear and grabbing freeze-dried meals and bottled water from the kitchen.
“You don’t have to come with us, Dr. Winston. It’s much safer if you stay here,” Sergeant Overton said, jamming a magazine into his pulse rifle.
“With all due respect, sir, I’m not the type to sit back and watch. I didn’t get to where I am today in my career by taking the backseat.”
Overton smiled. He liked that about her; it was something they had in common. But he couldn’t chance bringing her back into Colorado Springs. She would be a liability.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t risk losing you.”
Sophie sighed, and tried not to notice Emanuel eavesdropping from a corner near the kitchen. He’d wanted to see the Marines off before they left, and had managed to do so without his wheelchair. His skin had regained some of its pigment, and his eyes were brighter. He was healing more quickly than Sophie had predicted. But although she appreciated their concern, she didn’t need him or Sergeant Overton looking after her; she could handle herself.
“If you and your men want a base to return to, then I’m coming with,” Sophie said, offering the ultimatum in her business voice. She’d pitched enough grants in her career to know the exact tone her opponents just couldn’t refuse. “Besides, if this signal is coming from NTC, then I’m your best link to any sort of rescue.”
“Have it your way, Doc, but if you put my men’s lives in jeopardy, I won’t hesitate in booting your ass to the curb and leaving you behind.”
“Deal,” Sophie said. “We leave at dusk.”
Sergeant Overton retrieved a cigarette from his chest pocket and wedged it between his dry lips. He went to light it when Alexia’s voice sounded over the com system.
“Sergeant Overton, this is a nonsmoking facility.”
Damned artificial intelligence.
His nostrils flared as he put the cigarette back and threw the strap of his rifle over his back. “Women robots,” he muttered. Worse than women, and almost as bad as kids.
CHAPTER 15
IT wasn’t that Sophie was afraid to die. She just really didn’t want to.
Being a scientist, she knew the possibility of life after death was slim to none. She believed in what she observed, utilizing the evidence provided to her, and there simply wasn’t any data on heaven. Religion had never appealed to her, because it required her to believe in something that replaced evidence with faith. But there had been times in her life where she could recall praying. Not necessarily to a specific deity, but to something—anything—that might be listening. The first time was during the solar storms of 2055. The second was when she thought she was carrying Emanuel’s child. The third was now.
She stared out the window of the ancient Jeep Wrangler that Sergeant Overton and his men had commandeered from the decommissioned garage of the air force bunker. It had been protected by the thick granite roof of the facility, and besides a leaky fuel line and an aged muffler, it was in pretty decent shape.
By the time they hit the gravel road, she had already given up on finding the right words for a prayer. It was mostly pointless anyway. What good would praying do? It wasn’t like anyone was listening. And even if God did have an ear to the ground, there was no way she could bring herself to believe that He would intervene on her behalf. Where would the justice be in that, when so many others had suffered and perished? It was all so confusing. Another reason she preferred lab experiments over Sunday mass.
Overton killed the lights as he steered the Jeep onto Highway 115. He didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, and while driving in the dim light wasn’t the safest option, it beat trekking on foot in the dark. Besides, he had been trained to drive in similar situations—although that training was more than two decades old.
“Keep sharp,” he said over the com. “I don’t want any surprises.”
The dark blacktop was littered with empty vehicles, sending a chill down his spine. The scene was reminiscent of his time in Puerto Rico, when the Spanish had sent Special Forces in to take the island back. He was with one of the first Marine units to land on the beach. San Juan had been hastily evacuated, cars abandoned everywhere. Mike, his best friend, had taken a sniper’s bullet to the eye before his squad had a chance to set up a forward operating base. He realized with a jolt that his oldest boy was now the age Mikey had been when he died.
Get your head in the game, Marine, and remember your own rule. Don’t let outside distractions affect your mission.
He shook his head, straining to make out the shapes of the vehicles in the faint light. The sun was slowly disappearing over the horizon, and they only had minutes of daylight left. He would then be forced to utilize his night vision goggles, which was nothing but a pain in the ass.
“Shit,” he whispered, steering the Jeep around another pair of sedans and up a hill. The truck moaned, the muffler spitting trails of black smoke into the air as it crept down the highway.
Overton massaged the brakes and eased the vehicle to a stop. A shadow shot across the blacktop ahead. He balled his hand into a fist and watched as a single crow extended its wings and took off into the sky. Something had scared the bird, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t them. He scanned the skyline for drones, but it was empty, with only the faint hint of crimson on a stray cloud creeping across the horizon.
Sophie fidgeted in the backseat, gripping the pistol Overton had given her. She could feel her heart thumping, faster and faster, as they waited. For a second she regretted coming with the Marines, but she quickly disregarded the feeling and sucked in a deep breath. If there were survivors out there, she was going to help find them.
“All clear,” Finley said from the passenger seat, scanning the road with his infrared scope.
The tires began to roll and the engine groaned as Overton slowly pressed down on the gas. Sophie watched the top of the hill come into focus. A large semitrailer was parked sideways, blocking the road.
“Can you go around it?” Bouma whispered into the com.
“Negative. The shoulder is too narrow to attempt that sort of maneuver. Could break an axle. Looks like we will have to continue to the coordinates on foot,” Overton replied, killing the engine and turning to look at Sophie. “Stay close and don’t talk unless it’s absolutely vital. Life-and-death kind of shit.”
She nodded and opened her door, stepping out onto the concrete. Her first instinct was to take off running toward the semi, anxious to see what was over the hill, but she refrained. At the Biosphere she was boss, but out here she yielded command to Overton.
With every step the knot in Sophie’s stomach grew. She wondered if the Marines felt it too, but she knew Overton probably didn’t. He was one of those career military guys. The combination of his broad shoulders, defined biceps, tribal tattoos, scars, and rough voice was enough to intimidate virtually anyone. And while Sophie thought it would make her feel safer, it really didn’t. They weren’t at war with Texas anymore. This wasn’t a war against other men and women. This was a fight against an extraterrestrial life-form that had the technology to travel across light years of space. As much as she wanted to believe in Overton’s tough act, she knew there wasn’t going to be a war—“war” implied two sid
es that had a pretty equal chance of winning. There would be no such thing against the Organics. All they could hope to do was survive.
“Cover our six, Bouma,” Overton ordered.
The sergeant raced past Sophie, taking point at a brisk pace. The darkness quickly consumed him as he disappeared into the night, the matte black of his armor camouflaging his movements.
At first Overton had been reluctant to accept the suit from Sophie, but now he was glad he had. For some reason the empty streets made him feel exposed and naked. His eyes darted to the sky, scanning it for drones, and then back to the street for contacts.
Still nothing.
He pushed on, his head bobbling with every step. By the time he reached the top of the hill he was breathless. Years of smoking had finally caught up to him. Taking one knee, he craned his neck and glanced under the belly of the semitrailer. What he saw took his breath away for the second time, prompting him to scoot backward.
He caught his labored breath and slipped his helmet off, resting it quietly on the ground beside him. This was something he had to see with his own eyes, not from behind the protection of his glass visor.
Dropping to his stomach, he crawled back to the edge of the truck and squinted. About a half a klick away, a cluster of what had to be thousands of orbs floated over a parking lot. And swallowing them was a luminous worm-like creature that stretched the length of the semitrailer he was hiding behind.
A burst of static over the com startled Overton, but not enough to pull his gaze from the scene below. He watched the creature inch across the concrete, leaving a trail of blue goo in its wake. It had no eyes and no face, but as it opened its mouth to swallow another orb, he saw it did have teeth. Hundreds of them, protruding out of its circular jaws like Bouma’s crooked overbite. With one swift motion, the worm slugged forward, consuming another glowing globe in one bite.
The round lump passed through the length of the creature’s translucent blue body before stopping in its tail, where it seemed to dissolve. What came next was enough to make Overton’s veteran stomach lurch—a belch, and then a violent vibration through the creature’s body as it shot a ray of mist into the sky before finally coughing up the remains of the orb’s former occupant. From his vantage point Overton could hardly make out the contents, especially in the dark, but the faint blue glow from the creature’s body was just enough to illuminate a sack of human skin.
Orbs Page 13