But Emanuel was nervous. He still hadn’t figured out exactly how the satellite had managed to mitigate the effects of the magnetic disturbance, and the concern that Lolo would go offline was very real. Emanuel wanted to collect as much data as quickly as possible before that happened. For now, he was happy to have some reliable data from outside the Biosphere.
That didn’t mean he was excited to share it with Sophie, though. He’d spent the morning crunching the numbers while she slept. The data confirmed that the situation outside had never been worse.
“Feeling any better?” he asked as Sophie sat in one of the chairs facing the display.
“After water, coffee is the second most important resource left. I’m not sure what I’ll do when it runs out.”
Emanuel removed his glasses and cleared his throat. “Chances are we won’t be around long enough to see that happen.”
Sophie put her cup down. “You’ve analyzed the intel from Lolo, haven’t you?”
He nodded and rubbed his eyes. “The Pacific Ocean has lost forty percent of its volume in the past two months, while the Atlantic has lost over sixty percent. There is virtually no sign of any fresh water,” he said. “Temperatures are skyrocketing worldwide. The planet is turning into a desert. If we don’t do something soon—”
She traced the outline of an explosion with her hands and then puffed her lips out. “Boom,” she said, exhaling a breath. Then she turned back to the display as if nothing had happened—as if she already knew everything Emanuel had just told her.
“This doesn’t bother you?”
Sophie looked past him, staring at the blank AI console in the corner of the room. Something about her had changed since the day they lost Sergeant Overton—the day she believed she had seen the Organics’ leaders inside the black ship. He knew it would only get worse. He was slowly losing her. She was fading right before his eyes.
“Sophie?” he asked, reaching out to touch her arm. She flinched and closed her eyes. Then she turned back to the main display.
“What do you make of this?” Sophie finally asked, pointing to a clump of numbers scrolling across the screen.
Emanuel put his glasses back on and leaned over for a better look. “Looks like some sort of encoded message.”
35084198106649246 33356308117410873
2794660982458366 4113709395892082
2566388250755238 115436431486
36651911140466001 494200007570000
Alexia’s voice blared over the com. “Doctor Winston, a preliminary scan reveals these are coordinates for the following locations in the United States: Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Camp Pendleton in California, MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida, and Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska. They are also coordinates from locations around the world including USN Bahrain, USN Camp Lemonnier Djibouti, MCB Camp Butler Okinawa, and Ramstein Air Base in Germany.”
“Do you think this might be some sort of SOS?” Emanuel asked.
“That’s very likely, Doctor. They all originate from military bases. However, their activation dates are all from the first day of the invasion. It’s likely that everyone at those bases is already dead.”
Emanuel shot Sophie an anxious look. He felt like pounding his fist against the table. Just when he had hope of finding more survivors, it was stripped away.
“One moment,” Alexia said suddenly. A second later her voice surged through the speakers. “After scanning the activation dates a second time, it’s come to my attention that one of them is actually quite recent.”
“How recent?” Emanuel and Sophie asked simultaneously. Neither of them laughed at the coincidence.
“Two days ago,” Alexia said. “At Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska.”
“I’ll be damned,” Emanuel replied. “You better get in touch with Captain Noble, Sophie.”
“That would be redundant,” Alexia said.
Sophie narrowed her eyebrows. “What? Why?”
“Captain Noble sent this data to me over the encrypted uplink earlier this morning.”
“I thought this was satellite data!” Emanuel said, his irritation with the AI growing by the second. “When were you going to tell us?”
“My apologies, Doctor. I’ve been primarily focused on another task this morning.”
“Something more important than this?” Sophie asked.
“That would depend on what you consider important. If you consider the life, health, and safety of the team important, then the answer is yes.”
Emanuel glared at the AI console. “Again, something you should have told us?”
“I was waiting for a full analysis and for Doctor Winston to awaken.”
Sophie took a long swig of coffee. “I’m awake,” she said. “And I’m waiting. So spill it.”
“I’m still piecing together all the intel, but take a look at this.”
The coordinates faded into darkness. Then several blurry images emerged.
“Magnifying,” Alexia said.
Emanuel removed his glasses and used his sleeve to wipe off a smear. He put them back on and straightened them, squinting at the monitor. At first glance the shot appeared to be of an arid region. But as Alexia magnified it, he saw clusters of buildings against the stark tan landscape, skyscrapers even.
Was it possible?
“This is Tokyo. One of the first areas hit by the invasion. As you can see, the city is surrounded by a desert,” Alexia said. “Next is New York.”
The Statue of Liberty emerged on the display. Alexia had zoomed in so that Emanuel could see dried clumps of seaweed and the corpses of rotting fish strewn across the seafloor. The polluted waters of Upper New York Bay no longer surrounded the green symbol of American freedom.
“Here is an image of the actual migration,” Alexia said.
A horde of blue aliens lit up the display. They moved across the cracked earth in one solid, roiling mass.
“Where is this?” Sophie asked.
“Upstate New York. The precise location is on the outskirts of a town called Hector. Preinvasion population 9,944.”
“That can’t be,” Emanuel replied. “Check again. That’s in the middle of a forest.”
“Doctor Rodriguez,” Alexia quickly said, “the satellite is one hundred percent accurate.”
“Check again,” he griped. He held a hand to his head, but knew the AI was right. He had to accept that things were now worse than he thought.
Alexia’s voice transferred to the com. “Satellite images show the Organics are migrating. On every continent, they’re moving toward the oceans. I’ve concluded the aliens are beginning to exhaust their resources on land and are now heading to the oceans to complete the last phase of the invasion.”
The end of the AI’s sentence struck Emanuel hard. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He had known the end would come, but not this fast, and not like this. He’d had no time to prepare.
“How much time do we have before they reach the oceans?” he asked.
“A couple of weeks. Maybe a month. They don’t seem to rest. They just keep going.”
Emanuel felt his frustration bubble over. He slammed his hand down on the desk. “When Lolo picks up the GOA’s signal again, get us a line to Captain Noble.”
* * *
David and Jeff lay in the dirt of Biome 1, their stomachs full of fresh fruit and the few vegetables Jeff had demanded they eat. With their hands cupped behind their heads they gazed up at the white ceiling, listening to the hum of the air handling units.
Closing his eyes, Jeff relaxed and licked his lips. He let out a burp.
David chuckled. “Good one.”
Jeff glanced over at his brother. David’s features were strained, his cheeks puffing as he tried to mimic his brother’s action. His face grew red and fin
ally he let out a defeated sigh. Resting his head back in the dirt, David grew silent.
“How did Sergeant Overton die?” David asked a few minutes later.
Jeff rolled to his side.
David glanced over, searching his brother’s face for an answer. “Did he die like Dad did?”
“Yes,” Jeff replied. “He died saving that marine, just like Dad saved us.”
“So he fought the aliens?”
“Lots of them. Hundreds.”
David let out a gasp of awe. “Wow.”
“Someday we’ll face them like that.”
“What do you mean?”
Jeff sat up and brushed the dirt off the back of his neck and out of his hair. “Look around you. This place won’t last forever. They’ve found us before, and they will find us again. All we can do now is train to fight like the marines do. It’s our only shot.”
David sat up and crossed his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest.
“David?” Jeff asked, reaching over to pat his brother’s back.
“I’m scared,” he said.
“I’m scared, too. But you trust me, right? I mean, we survived at White Sands. We made it here.”
David slowly nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good. Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” The promise was one that Jeff had made before and one he fully intended to keep. If it came down to it, he would give his life to save his brother’s.
Jeff eyed an apple that had fallen a few feet away. He grabbed it and tossed it into the air, catching it with a swift motion. “Still hungry?”
David nodded and then smiled. “How many apples do you think are left in the world?”
“In the entire world?” Jeff held the red fruit out in front of him, examining the shiny surface. Like most everything in the biome, the apple was fragile. It would never survive outside, and he was pretty sure there weren’t many trees left—maybe just the one behind them.
Jeff stood and tossed the apple in the air again. “This could be the last tree.”
David joined him. He stood on his tiptoes, reached for an apple dangling off one of the nearest branches, and missed. David let out a sigh on the third pass and looked to his brother.
Chuckling, Jeff handed him the apple in his right hand. He watched David’s teeth sink into the ripe fruit, the juices sliding down his chin. Then he passed it to Jeff for a bite.
They stood there under the canopy of branches, chewing on what very well could have been one of the last apples on the planet.
CHAPTER 4
THE sound of grinding metal echoed inside the mini sub. Harrington glanced through one of the side portholes and saw the smooth black surface of the X-9. The emergency lights dimmed, and complete darkness carpeted the interior of Destiny 1 as Irene steered them into position.
“Securing air lock,” Irene said against the background of hissing air.
Harrington rested his back against one of the titanium walls, unstrapped his pulse rifle, and waited for the all-clear from Irene.
“Air lock is open, proceed to the decompression chamber,” she said moments later.
With the help of one of his men, Commander Le twisted the circular lock on the hatch. The door cracked open with a loud pop.
Harrington leveled his gun at the doorway and waited to enter the bowels of the Chinese sub.
“Keep radio chatter to a minimum,” he said, raising a single finger to his helmet.
Le nodded and climbed through the open hatch. His men followed in turn. When Diego was on deck he looked to Harrington and gave him the bird.
The gesture put Harrington at ease for a moment. He chuckled, shook his head, and grabbed the handhold.
The rest of the team stood waiting, bottlenecked in a space only twelve feet in diameter. With little room to move, their armored suits clanged nosily against one another. If it weren’t for their night vision, the team would have been completely blind. Not exactly the ideal situation when entering potentially hostile territory over nine hundred feet beneath the ocean’s surface. Fortunately, NTC engineers had spent time perfecting the suit so it worked at all depths.
And thank God for that, he thought. The X-9’s subsequent compartments would likely be flooded. Irene would be able to determine that as they made their way from chamber to chamber in search of survivors.
A hiss of air broke through the opening in the next hatch. Le opened the door slowly and aimed his rifle through the gap. For several seconds the team crouched in silence, waiting. The intermittent creaks and groans from the metal hull echoed through space.
With a quick flash of his right hand Le ordered the men forward. They entered the submarine in single file, motions smooth and calculated despite the bulkiness of their suits.
Harrington swept his rifle across the hallway of the sub’s outdated interior. Metal pipes lined the ceiling, their paint chipped and faded. Large control panels with oversize buttons protruded from the walls around them. Compared to the GOA, the X-9 looked ancient.
When they came up on the first bulkhead Harrington saw they would need to split up. The hallway curved into two separate corridors.
Le was thinking the same thing. After checking the passages he divided the group into strike teams with a few quick hand signals. Harrington led Diego and one of the Chinese soldiers to the hallway on the left.
Within seconds the footfalls of Le’s men faded away.
Approaching the next bulkhead, Harrington shouldered his rifle and took in a measured breath. Around the corner he saw the first signs of struggle.
Large holes peppered the ceiling. Harrington balled his hand into a fist and stopped abruptly. Slinging his rifle behind his back, he examined what appeared to be bullet holes from a high-caliber pulse gun.
He took a step to his right directly under one of them. A gooey substance dripped from the ceiling. He flinched when a drop fell on his visor.
“What the hell?” He wiped off the glass with a quick swipe. “Turn off your NVG,” he ordered.
Setting his helmet light to low, he examined the substance.
“Blood?” Diego asked.
Harrington bowed his head and shined the light directly onto his gloved hand. He fanned out his fingers, revealing cobwebs of blue goo.
“Yeah,” Harrington replied. “But not human.”
“So where are all the bodies?” Diego asked.
Harrington shook his head and in a mild voice whispered, “I don’t know.”
They continued down the hall. Several more clusters of bullet holes pockmarked the walls and ceilings. The deeper they ventured, the more his hope began to slip away.
A steel door sealed off the next bulkhead. He stopped and shone his light up and down the door, revealing red smears across the surface.
With no sign of bodies, he knew that whoever had fired off the pulse rounds had likely closed the door in a last-ditch effort.
He blinked on his infrared and scanned the corridor.
Holy fuck!
“You getting this, Diego?”
Harrington heard the clank of an armored hand hitting his shoulder, but he didn’t balk. He stared at the steel door, watching the red heat signatures on the other side dance across his display.
“Human?” Diego asked.
The sergeant didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer. The outlines looked human, but how the hell was he supposed to know? Whatever they were, they were stuck in the corridor beyond.
Chinning the com link inside his helmet, Harrington opened a line to the team and said, “Commander Le, do you read? Over.”
White noised filled the net.
“Commander Le, report. Over.” Harrington repeated.
More static. Was it possible that the thick steel walls were interfering with their connection? Harrington had a har
d time believing it. The radios were designed to work under just such circumstances.
“Shit,” he muttered. He chinned the com again, this time opening a direct link to the GOA. “Captain Noble, do you copy?”
“Roger, go ahead,” Noble replied.
“Sir, we have lost contact with Commander Le, and have spotted contacts on the other side of a bulkhead at”—he paused to read the marking above the door and snorted when he saw a Chinese label—“Not sure where we’re at, actually. Please advise. Over.”
“Can you confirm there are human survivors?”
“Negative, sir.”
Another brief pause filled the net with crackling static. For a second Harrington thought he had lost his connection to the GOA, but Noble’s voice quickly reemerged. “Priority is given—”
An abrupt, deep hammering from the other side of the steel door vibrated through the walls. Harrington stumbled backward into Diego, nearly knocking the man to the floor. They froze, listening in horror.
“Report, Sergeant,” Noble said. “What the hell was that sound?”
“Sir, whatever is on the other side of that door is not—” Before he could finish his thought another blast hit the door, sending a tremor down the entire passage.
Harrington retreated several more steps and raised his pulse rifle to the door. Three heat signatures had clustered behind the bulkhead and now he could see their shapes clearly. They were snakelike, with no signs of arms or legs.
Someone from the X-9 had trapped the creatures in the corridor, but they wouldn’t stay there for long. They smashed against the door again. It was only a matter of time before they tore the steel apart. Harrington eyed several deep dents already showing through the metal where the aliens had rammed it.
“Move!” he yelled, finally snapping into action. He pushed Diego after the Chinese soldier, who was already running.
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