Orbs

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

  Holly smiled, seeing Bouma standing in the shadows of the hallway leading to the personnel quarters. In the dim light he looked stoic, almost like a statue. With his chiseled jawline and short, cropped hair he was the stereotypical Marine, and in a way, kind of good-looking. Besides, it wasn’t like there was a huge male population left.

  The thought was selfish. She had two children to look after. And one adult who acted like a child. She watched Jamie and Owen tear into a freeze-dried packet while Timothy glared at both of them.

  “How are you doing, Holly?” Bouma said. He moved closer to her, his eyes darting back and forth from her to Timothy. He had been watching the man closely, concerned that he would try something stupid with Overton and Sophie gone.

  “Good.”

  “Okay, good,” the Marine said awkwardly. He’d never been great with women, but he knew the short answer meant she didn’t want to talk. Turning to leave he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Wait,” Holly said.

  Bouma held his breath and spun to face her.

  “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you, just as much as I am for my original team,” she said.

  “When do the kids go to bed?”

  “I’ll put them down after dinner tonight.”

  “Meet me in Biome 1?”

  Holly smiled. A walk through the gardens sounded exactly like what she needed.

  “It’s a date,” she said. She stiffened, realizing that he might take her at her word. “I mean, um, I’ll be there.”

  Bouma smiled, trying to hide his crooked teeth. “See you then.”

  * * *

  The blank white walls of the medical ward kept Emanuel at ease, but they also made him drowsy. Sleep had become elusive ever since Sophie had left. He had kept himself occupied by turning a section of the medical ward into a laboratory, where he had begun dissecting the remains of one of the Spiders. He’d performed countless necropsies on animals in his career, but this was by far the most intriguing, and also the most risky. Who knew what unfamiliar contagions or viruses the aliens were carrying? Alexia had left a subset of her personality with the biosphere to monitor its conditions, and Emanuel had put her on standby to run constant scans for potentially harmful foreign substances before he was exposed.

  Emanuel finished suiting up by covering the last of his bare skin with a pair of plastic gloves. The Biosphere had not come equipped with hazmat suits, so he had improvised and used one of the NTC suits he’d found in the decontamination chamber. Hopefully that would be enough.

  He peeled back a layer of the Spider’s translucent skin with a scalpel, clamping it open. Then, with an artist’s precision, he used a laser to cut a tiny slit in one of the blue veins running the length of the creature’s dismembered torso.

  Unfortunately, the rounds from the pulse rifles had made his work very difficult. The Organics’ defenses were clearly advanced, with their shields and supersonic shrieks, but without these weapons they were surprisingly fragile. Like jellyfish washed up on the beach, their skin and insides just seemed to melt away.

  The specimen in front of him was the most intact he had been able to find. With half a head, a full torso, and two of six legs remaining, it was plenty for him to work with.

  As he took a sample of the fluid from the vein, one of the creature’s eyeballs popped out of its socket and rolled across the table.

  Emanuel couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath; there was something almost slapstick about the moment. The sight of gore had never bothered him. And even if it had, he wouldn’t let it stop him from performing the necropsy. After all, it wasn’t every day a brand-new alien species showed up.

  It was delicate work, yielding more questions than answers. For example: How did the Spiders’ defenses work? He saw no indication of an energy source, nor any technology that would create their shields. In fact, he didn’t see a single hint of advanced biological functions, which meant they were more than likely just the grunts, conscripted to collect water and resources for their more intelligent commanders.

  The thought made him nervous. He had only begun to scratch the surface of the aliens’ chemistry and composition. Their fragile bodies weren’t what scared him, though—it was the fact that he still wasn’t sure who or what was giving them orders. Without specimens of the Sentinels or the worm-like creatures that Overton had described, Emanuel had no way to determine which, if any, was the dominant life-form. It was more likely that they hadn’t even seen the superior Organics yet.

  And why would they have? If these aliens had the ability to travel across the vast distances of space, why would they risk harm by showing themselves?

  Emanuel suddenly felt weary. Humans were never much of a threat to the Organics in the first place. If anything, humans had been a threat to themselves. After all, that’s why he was standing in a biosphere designed to help mankind venture into space, the last place they hadn’t destroyed.

  He peeled back another layer of veins and pushed the questions from his mind. Focusing on his work was the only thing that calmed him. It was also the only thing that helped prevent his thoughts from turning to Sophie. He fumbled with the scalpel and tore several of the veins open. Blood splattered onto his faceplate.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “Alexia, are you seeing anything worrying?”

  “Dr. Rodriguez, my scans aren’t picking up anything that registers in my database as toxic. However, there are several elements that are unidentified, and therefore I can’t advise on their effect on human biology.”

  Emanuel watched the blue liquid trickle down the glass protecting his face. He could no longer feel his heart beating, or the air coming through his nostrils. The sight of the alien blood so close had paralyzed him with fear. “Dr. Rodriguez, is something wrong?” Alexia said.

  He shook his head. “Well, I think it just sank in that I’m dissecting an alien life-form, but I’m fine.”

  Alexia did not respond, and Emanuel wiped the mess off his face guard. Then he snapped his gloves tightly around his wrists. He compartmentalized the fear by reassuring himself that his work was extremely important to the future of the human race.

  He retrieved a vial of the Spider’s blood and used a pipette to transfer a sample under the electron microscope. He magnified down to a single cell, moving from one cell to the next.

  Hours of studying the sample resulted in little new information. He already knew the blood contained mostly water, but it was the other elements that interested him.

  Resisting the urge to remove his glasses and rub his tired eyes, he instead sent the data to Alexia. “Let me know if you see anything I’m missing here,” he said, stretching his back and letting out a groan.

  Before he had a chance to straighten his spine, Alexia emerged on the console next to him. His sight was hazy from staring into the microscope for so long, but he could have sworn he saw excitement on her face.

  “Dr. Rodriguez. This sample of Organic blood does contain approximately 80.43 percent H2O. However, the other 19.57 percent consists of a substance very similar to plasma. I’m still breaking the data down, but it appears the blood has an electronic component, which likely has something to do with their defenses.”

  Emanuel smiled. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but he was really starting to enjoy having Alexia around.

  He moved to another station and flicked the display of the monitor. “Fascinating. Electrovalent blood,” he mumbled, scanning the data again to make sure he was reading it correctly. It was shocking, but at the same time it made sense. The shields were likely powered by the creatures’ blood. When they were feeding, their systems must shut down, and in turn lower their defenses.

  The revelation made his heart beat rapidly in his chest. If his theory was correct, then he had just found the Organics’ bi
ggest weakness.

  A strange, metallic rustling sound rang out in the ventilation above. The noise startled him, and he quickly forgot about the implications of his findings. He froze, listening intently.

  Silence.

  Emanuel was just about to shrug off the noise and return to his work when he heard the rustling again. It was growing more pronounced, as if something was moving through the ductwork.

  He grabbed the scalpel and edged toward the door. Just before he reached the sliding glass panel, he recognized the sound.

  Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

  * * *

  Timothy forced an ice pack against his jaw. His face throbbed. The painkillers had worn off. A broken jaw wasn’t something that just healed overnight, even with the incredible advances in modern medicine. It would take another week before the bones would be completely repaired and the pain subsided.

  A crack in his coffee cup reminded him of the scar on Overton’s face. The bastard had given him a scar, too. He grimaced and probed the tender spot where the Marine’s fist had made contact. The scar was only an inch long, but it would be a constant reminder of his hatred for the macho Marine.

  Timothy had hated men like Overton his entire life. They had bullied him as a child, and bullied him as an adult. But he would have his revenge somehow, presuming the man made it back to the Biosphere alive.

  He pushed the anger aside and swiped one of the monitors with his index finger. Several images of the Organics appeared, screenshots captured by the security cameras before the power was cut. Timothy grabbed the mug and took a sip of cold water, savoring it as it ran down his throat. There was a time when he’d have preferred some radioactive-colored, over-caffeinated soda. It was hard to imagine that something as simple as water would be a luxury—something they would have to ration.

  The world had changed dramatically. Things he had once taken for granted had become extinct overnight. No more fast food. No more sci-fi movies on TV. No more internet porn. Timothy wasn’t sure he wanted to keep going in a world like that. There was no way to determine how much was left outside, or if there were any survivors who could get the grids running again.

  The world was no longer the safe and convenient place he had grown to know and love. He would never be able to FaceTime with his friends on his fancy Apple sunglasses or blog his research to thousands of followers. He realized with a sickening lurch that his entire online gaming guild was probably dead. They wouldn’t be fighting dragons together anymore. No, this time the monsters were real, and it looked like they were headed for a total wipe. Game over.

  Timothy took another sip of water and focused on the images of the Spiders crawling across the screen. The first picture showed a dozen of the creatures entering the facility. The next showed the same group climbing into an air duct in the briefing room outside the Biosphere. It was when they got inside the facility that things got interesting.

  Ten of the Spiders dropped into Biome 4, where they branched off into two groups. The remaining two Spiders never reappeared after entering the ducts from the briefing room.

  He scanned the images again, thumbing to the last picture taken before the power had gone out. The other two creatures were definitely absent.

  Switching to video feed, he watched the scenes again, tracking the Spiders from the tunnel all the way to Biome 4, where they split up and disappeared. It was like the Spiders had simply vanished.

  His stomach growled, reminding him it was time for his lunch ration. He stood, stumbling slightly as blood rushed to his head. It was his first day walking without any sort of assistance, and he was still getting used to it. Fumbling with his chair, he pushed it aside and slipped through the automatic door into the dimly lit hallway.

  Somewhere behind him, a faint, metallic scratch tickled the very edge of his hearing. He halted, straining his ears to make out the noise, but it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. With a shrug he continued down the passage to the mess hall. He could see Holly and the children were already there, no doubt scarfing down the last of the mac and cheese.

  Another growl from his stomach urged him forward. He stopped in the entryway to the cafeteria to catch his breath. Holly looked up from her tray. She had a strange expression on her face. Jamie looked up next. Her mouth opened and unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.

  Timothy froze. They weren’t looking at him; they were looking behind him.

  Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

  “Oh God.” He turned his head to see the two missing Spiders from the video feed. One of the creatures hung from the ceiling, where a loose panel dangled freely. The other continued to slide across the concrete floor, its claws scratching. Its compound eyes scanned them, and Timothy had the horrible feeling that it was deciding which of them to eat first.

  He took a step back—a mistake, it turned out. The Spider seemed to finalize its analysis, and Timothy was clearly on the menu.

  He closed his eyes and waited for the Spider to tear into him. But his right eye wouldn’t stay shut. The nervous twitch had returned, just in time for him to watch the claws descend.

  * * *

  The tunnel was dim, illuminated only by a few emergency lights. One flickered intermittently, reminding Overton of the red lights from the railway crossing in his hometown. Like a subliminal warning, the light blinked on and off, on and off. It shed an eerie glow over an idle escalator at the end of the passage. It was as if they were being warned to stay out of the tunnel.

  Overton ignored the superstitious thought and secured the RVM on his back before leaping over the security lever at the top of the escalator. He began the descent into the darkness, blinking to enhance his night vision.

  The green glow of the goggles’ night vision bled across his HUD, revealing zero contacts. All he could see was the vague outline of a metal gate at the bottom of the stairs.

  Footsteps sounded behind him as he made his way down the metal teeth of the escalator. He didn’t risk turning to check on Sophie, for fear of tripping and falling.

  A few moments later he reached the bottom of the escalator. With a simple push, the entry door creaked halfway open. He frowned at the sound echoing off the tunnel walls.

  The noise was loud enough that any living thing within close proximity would hear them coming. Several strained heartbeats later, the noise vanished, and he slipped through the gateway. The main corridor was similar to the one that led to the Biosphere facility. It had been drilled with a “mole,” or tunnel-boring machine. Only a TBM left behind such smooth walls.

  Overton checked the tunnel. His HUD again blinked clear of heat signatures.

  “It’s clear,” he said. A moment later, Sophie caught up with him.

  With a nod she paced down the passage, shoulder to shoulder with Overton. At some point she’d grown rather fond of the brusque Marine. Without realizing when it had happened, they had become a team.

  The image of an idle train filled their displays as they rounded the corner. It rested on the tracks like a sleeping beast. Overton stared at the relic from the past; it had been years since he had ridden on a train. A pair of red emergency lights glowed above the front car door, illuminating the symbol of the NSA. Overton approached the train, jamming his combat knife between the car doors.

  “Help me,” he said. Working together, they pried the door open and slipped inside the empty train. It was littered with debris—rusted metal fuel barrels, a pair of rubber tires stacked neatly on top of one another, and a plastic container filled with tools.

  “Looks like someone’s used this train since it was decommissioned,” Overton said.

  Sophie shrugged, making her way past the barrels and into the conductor’s car. She guessed several airport employees who knew about the facility would have brought their families to the tunnel during the solar storms. She’d harbored a faint hope that they might have done so again, but s
he saw no sign of recent habitation. She checked her HUD for a radiation reading. It was fairly high—high enough to keep survivors out of the tunnel. There was little chance of running into any humans.

  Overton pushed his way into the tiny car and peered over Sophie’s shoulder, studying the gears. “Well, do you know how to run this thing?”

  Sophie pushed a red button on the middle of the console, and a row of lights flickered on. He patted her on the back and slipped back into the second car, taking a seat on one of the dusty benches. His stomach was growling and his throat was parched. It had been several hours since he’d had any nutrition, and a couple seconds without his helmet wasn’t going to kill him.

  “Hold on to your seat, Sergeant. If I’m correct, this train can reach a maximum of three hundred miles per hour. That should put us at White Sands in a little over two hours.”

  Overton took several gulps from his canteen, letting the warm water glide down his throat. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, and tore open an energy bar.

  The floor of the train groaned and creaked as the electric engine flared to life. He slipped his helmet back on and closed his eyes, chewing the last bit of chocolate before resting his helmeted head on the glass window. By the time the train had reached full speed, he was asleep.

  * * *

  The creature’s mandibles split and its head darted forward, straining the Spider’s thin neck as it lunged for Timothy. Oddly, in that moment of terror and confusion, he fixated on the waft of breath coming from the thing’s gaping mouth. It was odorless.

  Ever since he was a child, he had imagined what monsters would be like. He thought they would have the most disgusting, raunchiest breath possible, the scent of death and decay rolling off their tongues. It was a prerequisite for dungeon-dwelling beasts.