Orbs III

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Orbs III Page 8

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith


  “You see him? You see him?” Kirt repeated.

  “Two are on your six. Third is somewhere above you,” Irene said.

  “I know!” Kirt yelled. “But where?” His fingers pressed the controls like a madman playing the piano. The click of buttons echoed through the room.

  Noble tightened his grip on the chair. His knuckles burned white, but he didn’t seem to notice. The images of the ruined city held a grim allure. He’d seen snapshots of other metropolitan areas in the images Lolo had transmitted. But nothing quite like what he was seeing now.

  The derelict cities of man were already vanishing. The dust storms and heat were reducing the marvels of human civilization to dust one inch of concrete at a time.

  With the drones closing in fast, Noble leaned over Kirt’s shoulder and said, “Get her out of there!”

  “Working on it, sir,” Kirt replied.

  He pulled the stick to the right and eased off the gas by clicking one of the buttons marked Engine 1. The drone turned and cut under a sagging bridge, rolling so the entire command center could see the dry lake beneath.

  The alien drones were in close pursuit, tearing through the skeletal remains of the bridge.

  “I can’t fucking shake them,” Kirt said. He tried another move, aiming the drone straight for a skyscraper. “Gonna be close,” he said. Kirt licked his lips and then violently clicked the engine buttons. The drone jerked forward and the building ahead rushed toward them on the display in a blur of metal and glass.

  “Collision imminent, take evasive measures,” Irene warned.

  Noble closed his eyes when he realized what Kirt had in mind. He cracked one of his eyelids open just as the drone crashed through the middle of the building. It exploded out the other side a second later, raining glass on the street below.

  Its rear cameras captured the larger alien crafts attempting to compensate at the last second. They rotated to slip through the broken glass, but they were too wide. They both smashed into the metal frame of the building, skidding halfway across the floor before wedging to a stop.

  The growing crowd of NTC staffers in the command center cheered.

  “Nice work!” Noble said.

  “We aren’t out of this yet,” Kirt replied. “Irene, do you have a location on the third drone?”

  “Working.”

  Noble saw it first. The other drone hovered above one of the adjacent buildings, waiting like a hawk perched on a post. It burst forward as the NTC drone shot out into the open.

  “Incoming!” Noble said, pointing at the blur of blue diving toward the bot.

  Kirt quickly hammered down on one of the buttons with his index finger. The machine braked hard, two of the three engines shutting off as it passed over a city park that was covered in dust.

  The alien craft overshot its trajectory and crashed into the ground. A cloud of debris mushroomed into the sky on impact.

  Kirt pulled his finger off the button and then typed in a command on his keyboard. But the drone didn’t respond. It puttered forward, wobbling as it flew on one engine.

  “Shit. Looks like we lost Engine 1. Irene, give me a diagnostic report,” Kirt said. He pushed the other buttons frantically and steadied the joystick.

  “Engine 2 at fifty percent. Engine 1 is fried, sir.”

  “Revert all power to Engines 2 and 3, Irene,” Kirt said.

  Moments later, Kirt had stabilized the T19. He changed course, pulling the cyclic upward and flying the drone at a forty-five-degree angle up into the sky and away from the city.

  Kirt wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over his shoulder. “That was damned close, sir.”

  Noble patted him on the shoulder. “Nice flying, son.” He looked toward the exit and ran a hand over his bald head. “Let me know when you get to Offutt. I need a shot of whiskey.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Kirt said without taking his eyes off the displays.

  * * *

  Biome 1 felt sticky, the humidity lingering in the air. Holly wiped the sweat off her forehead and reconsidered her walk with Bouma. But where else could they go? The other Biomes were teeming with activity.

  Grabbing his hand, she slipped off the platform and landed in the soft dirt.

  “How long do we have?” Bouma asked.

  “About as long as it takes Emanuel to get bored with babysitting Owen and Jamie,” she laughed. “So I’d say maybe fifteen minutes. If we’re lucky.”

  She felt his grip tighten and pulled him deeper among the cornstalks. For the past several days she’d spent every waking second that she could with the marine. He’d made her feel something she’d run from her entire life. As a psychologist, she had overanalyzed her emotions, built up walls against them. And now, at the end of the world, she’d finally dropped that wall and found what she’d always protected herself against.

  Looking around her, she knew how lucky they were. Protected by the Biosphere, they lived in relative luxury. They had food, water, shelter—all things she’d taken for granted in the past.

  But Holly knew how fragile their fishbowl was. Heck, that’s one reason she’d never allowed herself to completely commit to someone in the past: life was fragile. Even before the apocalypse.

  “Do you ever think about your family?” Bouma asked.

  The question took Holly by surprise, and she turned to face him. “I’ve kind of accepted the fact that they’re dead now,” she said. “What about you? I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

  He kicked the dirt nervously. “I know I’ll see my family again.”

  “You think they may have survived?”

  Bouma shook his head and reached into his breast pocket. He removed a gold chain and handed it to her. The cross sparkled under the LEDs as the links unspooled in her palm.

  “You’re a Christian?”

  He nodded.

  “Me too.”

  “Another thing we have in common,” he said with a half smile that covered his teeth.

  “It’s been hard, though.” She paused to consider her words. She didn’t want to offend him, but she had to admit the truth. “The invasion. The apocalypse. It’s all tested my faith. I never thought it would happen like this. It’s not supposed to happen like this.”

  “It’s not our place to question God’s plan.”

  “I know,” she replied. “But when overgrown insects are trying to spin me into an orb, I have to at least wonder.” She smiled. “Don’t you?”

  “I haven’t really had the time to think much about it, to be honest. That’s what faith is, I guess.” He chipped away at a small mound of dirt with his boot.

  “You’re right. That’s exactly what faith is.”

  She held the necklace out to him, but he cupped his hand over hers and pushed it back toward her. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to keep it.”

  “I can’t, Chad,” she said.

  “Why not? Maybe it will help you remember your faith,” he replied.

  The cross lay in her palm, glistening under the lights.

  Bouma saw her looking at it and said, “Here, let me.” He unfastened the clasp and stepped behind her, draping the chain around her neck.

  “Now you won’t ever forget me,” he chuckled. “Not if you’re wearing this.”

  The weight of the symbol on her chest prompted a sudden flood of emotions. She felt a tear welling up in her right eye.

  His smile faded into concern. “Are you okay?”

  With a nod she wiped the tear away and caught his gaze. “Thank you, Chad.”

  He smiled. “I love you, Doctor Brown.”

  “I love you, too,” she replied, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him. “Promise me something.”

  He looked down at her. “What?”

  “Promise me you won’t ever leave us.”

 
“Holly,” he said, leaning in closer. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

  An inhuman shriek interrupted their quiet moment together.

  Holly and Bouma both looked at the door to Biome 1, just as Jeff burst through.

  “Come! Come quick!” he yelled. The boy was bent over, panting, his hands on his knees.

  “What’s wrong?” Bouma asked. He was already moving, pulling Holly through the field.

  “It’s Sophie. She’s gone crazy!”

  * * *

  The GOA turned sharply. Noble braced himself against his desk and then stumbled over to the monitor with a bottle of whiskey still in his right hand.

  As soon as he saw his XO’s face, he knew something was wrong. The man wore a frightened look. The last time Noble had seen it, they’d discovered the X-9.

  “What the hell was that, Richards?”

  “Sir, Athena has detected strong currents approximately fifty nautical miles out.”

  The captain frowned. “That’s why you just about broke my last bottle of whiskey?” He had been expecting to learn they were about to be devoured by an alien sea monster. “We’ve been experiencing stronger currents than normal for a while now. I’m not sure I understand what the problem is.”

  “Sir, we don’t know for sure, but—”

  “What?”

  “Irene believes the increased current marks one of their processing stations.”

  The captain slid the bottle of liquor from view and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, processing stations?”

  “Their water collection ships, sir,” he replied. “Irene believes we are coming up on a cluster of them. We haven’t been able to confirm this yet, though.”

  “Aye aye,” Noble said. He scratched his chin. Like the dust storms sweeping the world, he’d seen only satellite images of the water collection ships.

  “Richards, will we be safe where we are? I don’t want to risk drawing the aliens’ attention.”

  “We’ve managed this long, sir.”

  The Captain slowly sat in his chair, using the moment to think. Anything he could learn from the Organics could help them win the war, even if it meant getting close to one of the collector ships. Humanity would have to be bold to win the war, and being bold meant using every resource at their disposal. The GOA had one of the most powerful nuclear-operated engines of any submarine ever designed, and he was confident they could get close without falling into harm’s way.

  “All right, Richards, steady as she goes.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Plucking the whiskey bottle off his desk, he leaned forward to pour himself a drink. Just one, he thought. One wasn’t going to affect his judgment.

  The liquor churned as it filled the glass. In the middle of the glass he noticed a small black fleck. Dirt maybe. He looked closer, holding the glass under the lights. Sure enough, a fragment of grime swirled around in the middle.

  Noble wasn’t a superstitious man, but something about the image gave him the chills. He found himself imagining the GOA as the black dot in his glass, and the liquor as the ocean.

  Was it a sign?

  He shook his head.

  No. Not a chance.

  The juxtaposition was just a coincidence. Still, he questioned his orders to recon the water collection ships. This wasn’t the first time in his career that he had a bad feeling about his orders. It was part of being a leader. His father had taught him this valuable lesson years ago.

  You will question orders before and after you give them, son. But never back down unless you are certain your first instinct is wrong, he would say.

  Only this time, Noble wasn’t sure what his gut was telling him.

  * * *

  Sophie shook Lieutenant Smith as hard as she could, but the marine would not wake up.

  “Sophie, stop it!” someone yelled.

  Sophie felt the person’s hands before she placed the voice. They were strong, and they were tightening around Sophie’s waist like a vise. She let out a breath that sounded like a woof, but she would not be deterred. She had to know what the marine saw. She shook the woman harder.

  “Tell me what you saw!” she shouted.

  The hands around her torso dug deeper. “Stop!” Emanuel shouted. “You’re going to hurt her.”

  Sophie felt more hands. Now they were pulling her back. But her resolve grew stronger. The pain in her head would not go away. She had to know what Smith saw.

  The ache had started hours before just behind her eyes and settled there, intensifying until it had become nearly incapacitating. And the humming. It felt like a beehive had taken up residence in her skull.

  She’d been mostly coherent up until now, but her thoughts had quickly become a jumbled mess of memories and questions. Sophie no longer felt in control of her body.

  “Wake up. You have to tell us what you saw!” she repeated.

  Behind the pain, she could hear a voice in her head. Dr. Hoffman had continued to haunt her. He was millions of miles away, headed toward Mars, and he was still finding his way into her thoughts.

  His voice boomed. It doesn’t matter what this woman saw, Doctor Winston. She can’t help you. The Organics can’t be defeated.

  Sophie would have believed the doctor months ago. Now she knew the truth. He had lied to her, about everything—and now his lies made her want to know the truth even more than before.

  “Wake up!” she screamed, trying to pull free from Emanuel’s grip.

  Smith’s eyes suddenly snapped open and focused on Sophie. The marine lifted her head off the pillow.

  “I saw them all,” she said, blinking.

  Sophie squeezed the woman’s wrist and said, “Saw who? Who did you see, Lieutenant?”

  She blinked again. Then sat up until she was just inches from Sophie’s face, studying her.

  “You,” she finally said. Her voice was rough and weak. “You were there.”

  “Where?” Sophie asked.

  Smith coughed, the skin on her neck tightening with each exhale. “Inside the ark. With the orbs. With the shape-shifting aliens.”

  Sophie felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders, but before she could reply her skull exploded with pain. The agony was debilitating. She immediately dropped Smith’s wrist.

  “Sophie,” a voice said. She felt a pair of hands wrap around her as she collapsed on the ground. Struggling to look up, she saw blurred faces surrounding her. The entire team was there.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE T19 made it to Offutt just as night swallowed the bleak landscape. Kirt did a quick flyover of the base to ensure there weren’t any contacts before turning to Captain Noble. “Looks clear, sir.”

  “Put her down.” Noble paused and scanned the dual monitors. “Over there,” he said, pointing toward the twisted frames of two fighter jets turned on their sides.

  Kirt acknowledged the order with a nod and tucked the machine between the two dust-covered planes. “That should protect her from some of the wind,” he said.

  “Prepare to deploy the secondary bot,” Irene interjected. Her face solidified over the console next to their station.

  “Activating,” Kirt replied.

  The sound of clicking hydraulics filled the com as the belly of the NTC drone opened and a ramp lowered to the ground. A remote-controlled robot shot onto the concrete, the hum of its small engine drowning out the hissing wind in the background.

  Kirt rubbed his eyes. “Looks like my gig’s up,” he said with a yawn. “Wake me if you need me,” he said.

  Noble wanted to shake the pilot’s hand. If it weren’t for his flying back in Los Angeles, the mission would have ended before it had even begun.

  “Rest up; you deserve it,” the captain said. “Irene, you’re up at bat. Time to find some survivo
rs.”

  “Working, sir,” she said. “Transferring camera feed—” her voice jumped to the com and after a slight pause she said, “now.”

  The dual monitors flickered and the feed transitioned to the miniature bot’s cameras. The machine kicked up a trail of dust as it raced down the tarmac toward a cluster of hangars.

  “Irene, see if you can narrow in on the source of that distress signal.”

  “I’m picking up a lot of interference, sir, but it’s still transmitting. We’re coming up on the coordinates.”

  Noble smiled. They had gotten lucky—almost too lucky. Behind them, he heard Athena shout, “Sir, the currents are getting stronger. We’re getting close to the vortex.”

  “Roger,” he replied. “Put two miles between us and the vortex, but do it slowly. We still don’t understand how their detectors work.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Through the lenses of the robot’s night vision, the tarmac looked like a junkyard. Wings from X-90 fighter jets littered the concrete.

  A crosswind spun the drone 180 degrees. The rubber tires screeched as Irene applied the brakes, but another gust of wind crashed against the lightweight bot before she could regain control. Tipping on its side, the machine started skidding across the pavement. Noble watched in horror as green sparks filled the display. The mission had suddenly derailed. They had made it so far, only to be punished by strong winds.

  “Stand by,” Irene said. Her voice sounded distant.

  “Do something,” he said. “We’re going to lose everything!”

  “Activating . . .”

  A grappling hook shot out of the front of the drone, making a whooshing noise as it sailed through the air. The drone screeched to a halt. The robot slowly tipped back onto all four wheels and fought the raging wind head on. The thin rope extended into the distance, where the hook had latched onto one of the wings of a fighter jet.

  The bot cleared the runway just as the wind picked up into a full-fledged dust storm.

 

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