Orbs II: Stranded

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Zooming in with Camera 15, I pick up Dr. Winston, Dr. Brown, and the children Owen and Jamie. They are looking at something on the ground.

  After a preliminary scan, I determine that the creature was an immature Worm, most likely brought into the facility when the other Organics invaded. Somehow it remained undetected until Sophie killed it. An anomaly, but the past five weeks have proven nothing is impossible. As my mental capacities continue to evolve, this becomes even clearer. After all, the programmers who originally designed my systems would say that my current state of consciousness is impossible.

  I tap into the communication system. “Doctor Winston, would you please remove the creature from Biome 1? I would like to run a full set of tests.”

  She looks up at the camera and nods before climbing onto the platform and disappearing into the hallway leading to Biome 2. I lose sight of her for several seconds.

  The test will be the first I’ve been able to run on the Worm creatures. They are what Dr. Winston and her team have referred to as the harvesters: aliens that consume the orbs and discharge the water into the atmosphere.

  It has been fourteen hours, thirty-one minutes, and fifteen seconds since Sergeant Overton, Dr. Rodriguez, and Corporal Bouma left the Biosphere. According to my calculations, they should have arrived at the location of the destroyed drone by now, and if all goes to plan, they will be on their way back shortly.

  I have run a number of scenarios through a probability program. Only two of them result in their return. Even with the mobile RVM and Emanuel’s weapon, they will more than likely attract the attention of the Organics, which are breeding at an alarming rate.

  I must acknowledge a new feeling I’ve developed, for the sake of documenting my intelligence as it advances to new levels.

  It is a feeling humans would describe as concern, although I’m not quite sure that fits. No, it’s likely that I’ve established several different emotions: a combination of fear, worry, and trepidation. I imagine that I’m having similar experiences to an infant attempting to understand new colors or sounds.

  I must admit it’s all very exciting. At the same time, I recognize that the reason I have acquired these new emotions is due to my attachment to the Biosphere team.

  Like a mother, I have grown to care about them as my own children. Even Sergeant Overton has grown on me. While I know he will likely be the next to die, I can’t help but hope that he survives.

  My excitement and worry and hope are all becoming confused inside my circuitry and making me feel almost . . . alive.

  No.

  I am alive.

  With the departure of Sergeant Overton, Corporal Bouma, and Dr. Rodriguez, the likelihood the team will survive is now at a historic low of seven percent. It is not a matter of if they die, only when. The time will come when I will be the only intelligent entity alive in the facility, and perhaps on the entire planet.

  I return my attention to Biome 1 and continue to run my tests.

  One way or another, life will go on.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE horizon swallowed the sun, and the last bits of crimson vanished behind the Rocky Mountains. Night claimed the valley. Emanuel swallowed hard. It was one thing to be outside during the day, but at night? The thought made his skin crawl.

  The rap of Overton’s fingers on Emanuel’s helmet made him flinch.

  “Let’s go, Doc,” the marine said. “They won’t last long out there.”

  Emanuel stared at the empty lakebed, focusing on the rows of poles that were lined with human crops. How did the Organics keep them alive? And if the aliens were draining the oceans, then why did they need to farm the remaining population? The questions lingered in Emanuel’s mind as he followed the two marines into the hallway.

  He paused in the doorway, fixated on the hundreds of Spiders gathering under one of the poles out the window. It was then he understood. The farms were feeding the growing army. The orbs and poles were one and the same. Humans weren’t the main source of water for the ships in orbit—they were the main source of water for the soldiers. Mankind had become snacks.

  Looking through his binoculars, he narrowed in on a thin rod at the top of one of the poles. He’d seen similar objects protruding out of the rows of genetically engineered crops in the past. It was likely a device to feed the human prisoners. Whether they received their nutrients intravenously or through some other method he couldn’t be sure, unless he took a closer look.

  “So that’s how they’re keeping them alive,” Emanuel blurted over the com.

  “What?” Overton replied. The marine shook his head and said, “Move.”

  Emanuel forced himself forward, focusing instead on his thoughts. He had to compartmentalize the mission in order to continue; it was the only way to manage his feelings. If he thought about the bigger picture, he would be defeated. The first objective was to find the perfect location to set off the weapon. If it worked—

  No.

  When it worked, they would have a small window of time to locate and rescue Jeff and Overton’s squad. Assuming Overton was right, and Jeff was actually here.

  Breathe. One foot in front of the other. You can do this, he thought as he raced down the stairs. He gripped his rifle close to his chest, feeling a bit of comfort from the powerful weapon.

  When they hit the street, Emanuel’s HUD glowed to life. Everywhere he looked, the outlines of cars filled his display, but the infrared detector came back negative. They were alone, just their small band of survivors against the overwhelming numbers of Organics.

  Ahead, Overton flashed a quick hand motion, telling them to advance. Emanuel shifted the RVAMP device on his back and took off running as fast as his legs would permit.

  The street curved and disappeared around two houses that blocked their view of the lakebed. Overton paused, taking cover behind an abandoned truck. Bouma fell into position, watching behind them, but Emanuel stayed where he was, transfixed by the radiant blue glow emanating off the poles. After a moment, Bouma grabbed his uniform and dragged him behind the truck.

  “Once we round this corner, there is no turning back,” said Overton. “Those things won’t give us a second chance. If any of us makes a mistake, we’re all dead. Do you understand?” Overton turned his visored head toward Emanuel.

  The biologist nodded and prepared to move. For some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he had thought he would be. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins and the sweat dripping off his forehead, but his heartbeat was relatively normal, and his breathing calm. He was . . . excited. If his weapon worked, it would change everything. If it didn’t, they were dead anyway.

  “I’m going to need a place to set this up,” Emanuel said. He studied the surrounding area. “Somewhere high, preferably.”

  “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Overton growled. “We could have set up in one of the condos.”

  “Because I need to be closer. I’m not sure what type of range this thing has.”

  “Fuck,” Overton said, pausing to scan the street again. “Bouma, do some reconnaissance. I want to know what’s around that corner. And don’t get spotted.”

  “On it.” The marine was halfway down the street before Emanuel had time to wish him luck.

  “Stand by,” Overton grunted.

  Silence swept over the pair as they waited for Bouma to return. They crouched there for what seemed like half an hour before Emanuel checked his mission clock.

  Only two minutes had passed.

  The wind picked up. Another three minutes passed. Emanuel felt tense; the waiting was unbearable.

  “Give him some time,” Overton said, noticing Emanuel’s fidgeting.

  After ten minutes, the sergeant popped his head over the bumper to scan the street. There was no sign of Bouma. “Bouma, do you copy? Over,” Overton said.

  Static flic
kered over the com.

  Emanuel checked his mission clock again. “Maybe we should go to him,” he suggested.

  “No, sit your ass down,” Overton said, motioning with his hand.

  Emanuel sat. His stomach sank with every passing second. The lakebed was only a few minutes’ walk, but there was no telling how many of the Organics were guarding the poles on the other side of the houses.

  Ripping the Velcro straps of the RVAMP off his shoulders, Emanuel placed the weapon on the ground. He checked the control panel; the power meter glowed a healthy green. He’d made sure the device was fully charged before taking it into the field. The last thing he wanted was to get caught without the protection of the reverse magnetic field the machine produced. It had served them well on every other mission and had protected Overton and Sophie on their trip to Denver International and back.

  Next he examined the side power port. The green button caused the device to overheat, and the red button was a fail-safe to power it down. If flipped, the green switch would create an electromagnetic pulse that would be hundreds of times more powerful than the grenades Overton had used on the Organics in the past. The idea was to not only shut down their shields but to keep them down. His laboratory observations proved the aliens could not live without their force fields and would die in a matter of minutes if unprotected.

  Emanuel’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a snapping twig. He turned just in time to see Bouma emerge from the shadows, his black armor covered in blue goo.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Overton asked.

  “Baby Spiders. Two of them,” he panted. “Their shields aren’t as powerful as their parents’. Nothing my boots and knife couldn’t handle.” He wiped his combat knife against his armor, spreading a streak of sticky blue blood on his leg. “There are thousands of Spiders out there. Babies. Adults. All shapes and sizes. The lakebed looks like a forward fucking operating base for the Organics.”

  Picturing the massive army of aliens, Emanuel felt a chill run through his body. The excitement of earlier had left him.

  “Doesn’t change anything,” Overton said. “Did you find a good place for Doc to get his weapon set up?”

  Bouma shook his helmet. “No good place to set up. I barely made it back. One of them spotted me; I think they have sentries or something. I thought you said these freaking things were stupid!”

  Overton grunted and turned back to Emanuel. “How close do you need to be for this thing to work?”

  Emanuel wasn’t exactly sure. His calculations had been done in laboratory conditions, not the field. “As close as possible,” he said, and then paused, wondering whether this was the right moment. “There’s something I should probably tell you guys. When I flip this switch,” he said, extending a finger toward the red button, “it’s going to cause the magnet to fail.”

  “What’s that mean?” Overton asked.

  “It means after I flip the switch, we’re going to be exposed. If the weapon doesn’t work, you better have brought your running shoes, because we’re basically screwed.”

  “Anything else you want to share before we put our asses on the line?” Overton snarled.

  “We only get one shot at this. Once the device is set off, it won’t come back online until it cools down.”

  “Let me guess: you don’t know how long it will take to come back online?”

  Emanuel shrugged. “If I had told you all of this before, would it have changed anything?”

  “You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you?” Overton said.

  Bouma snorted into his mic. “Great. That’s just awesome, man.”

  “You better hope it works,” Overton added.

  Emanuel nodded. “It will,” he said quietly. In a different world, he would have tested countless prototypes; the research trials alone would have taken months. But his hand had been forced by circumstances outside his control. He was a lab jockey, not a marine, and being out in the field with half a plan and a device that might not even work was beginning to feel like a very poor decision.

  “Look, guys,” said Emanuel. “I just want you to know that—”

  “Shut up and don’t move,” Overton said, raising his rifle.

  Emanuel froze. In the reflective surface of Overton’s visor, he saw two Spiders approaching from behind him.

  “Get ready to flip that switch,” the marine growled.

  * * *

  Jeff followed the crowd of prisoners across the cracked dirt. Every time he looked around for a friendly face, the gaunt witch of a woman would push him forward. “Keep going,” she would say. “Don’t stop.”

  So Jeff pushed on, beads of sweat creeping down his forehead. His muscles ached and his legs were tired, but the woman was right. He couldn’t stop. His little brother was back at the Biosphere, probably scared, and he had to find a way back to him. After losing their dad on invasion day, Jeff had sworn to protect David. He was old enough to know that real men didn’t break promises. Real men did what they had to do to provide for their family, and David was the only family he had left.

  The squeal of a Spider broke through the calm of night. The sound sent several of the people in front of him stumbling, cupping their hands over their ears to block out the terrifying noise. Jeff didn’t even pause; he was used to their screeching by now. After spending weeks crawling through the dark tunnels below the White Sands military installation, he’d learned to evade the aliens by sound alone.

  He remembered all the times his stepmother had brought David and him to visit White Sands. At first, it had seemed like a magical place. Not only had it been one of the largest military facilities in the world, but it had also housed some of the coolest-looking spaceships he had ever seen. But after a while, he had grown tired of the visits. His father hadn’t been one of the pilots or engineers, like his friends’ dads were, and he had felt embarrassed.

  In the end, though, his dad had saved them. In those last moments, he wasn’t just a guard. He was a hero.

  Jeff pushed the memories away and scanned the horizon. They were getting closer to the poles, and if he didn’t escape soon, he’d be hanging from one of them before long.

  As he stumbled forward, Jeff studied the other prisoners. They were fixated on the rods like holy icons. Their glazed-over eyes and mechanical movements reminded him of zombies; it was almost as if something was controlling them.

  Another screech pulled Jeff’s gaze to the bluffs overlooking the lakebed. Hundreds of thirsty Spiders scampered across the dirt, a thick cloud of dust following them as they moved across the dry earth.

  There were other aliens, too. A trio of Sentinels followed the Spiders, their spiked tales slithering behind their massive torsos. He caught one of them looking down at him and quickly turned away. His dad had once said there were no such things as monsters. He was wrong.

  When he filed back into the group, someone knocked him to the ground. Jeff crashed into the dirt. Spitting, he swept the crowd of faces and saw a man in military fatigues glaring at him. His eyes were different from the others. They were clear. Focused.

  “Get up,” the man said grimly, reaching down and grabbing Jeff under his armpit.

  “Hey!” Jeff protested, trying to squirm away.

  “Do you want to live, kid?”

  Jeff eyed the man suspiciously. He didn’t look much like a soldier. For one thing, he was short, just over a foot taller than Jeff. He had a funny-looking bulb-shaped nose and a pair of dark brown eyes. A thin layer of short-cropped hair covered his dirty scalp, but after staring, Jeff wasn’t so sure it was hair. It kind of looked like dirt. His thick jawbone, on the other hand, was definitely covered in dirt, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in weeks. The man was filthy. His uniform was torn, and he carried no weapon. Jeff noticed a frayed name tag stitched into his uniform pocket. It was torn and only his last name remained.<
br />
  Kiel.

  CHAPTER 11

  SOPHIE looked out from the portal of Biome 1, staring into the endless black abyss of space. The smell of fresh oranges drifted through the filtered air. The smell reminded Sophie of her grandmother’s backyard in North Beach, Florida, before she had been forced to relocate due to the rising tides.

  She continued to stare out into deep space, the view dusted with stars like tiny specs of sand. Somewhere out there, Mars awaited her.

  “Doctor Winston,” said the man standing next to her. “May I speak with you a moment?”

  Sophie knew that voice. She turned to find Dr. Hoffman smiling at her. His teeth were stained from years of drinking coffee, and when he noticed her staring at them, his smile faltered.

  “We need to talk,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and watching her with dark, calculating eyes. “We intercepted a transmission.”

  Sophie cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “I’d play it, but it would mean nothing to you. It’s a series of noises on a frequency that has left even our senior communications officer confused.” He paused and gazed out of the porthole. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

  She nodded and stepped aside so he could get a better look.

  “You should enjoy it while you can. I don’t imagine you have much more time,” Hoffman said, casually.

  Sophie was getting impatient. Something was amiss. Her instincts told her that this was all wrong, that it wasn’t real.

  That it was a dream.

  “We know that the Organics on the ground are not the intelligent ones,” he continued. “They aren’t the ones leading the invasion or the ones controlling the drones.”

  Eve, Sophie remembered. The thought made her angry. The alien drone Eve was found submerged in a lake in the remote wilderness of Alaska in 2055. Scientists had known long before the invasion that the aliens were coming.