Orbs III

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “The aliens,” Emanuel said, pointing at the display behind them. “They are here for our water, which I think you both understand. Right?”

  Jeff nodded, while David looked at the screen and said, “Wow. How many are there?”

  “See this group?” Emanuel asked.

  Both boys nodded.

  “They are the workers,” he said, scanning the boys’ faces to see if they understood. They both stared back at him blankly. He needed a different strategy. “Surely you’ve both seen ants before, right?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes.

  “Of course you have. These aliens are like worker ants. They perform tasks for the good of the larger colony. In this case, these Spiders collect water and eradicate any threats. They likely killed your dad because he was one of those threats.” Emanuel bit his lip, unsure if his answer would upset the boys. To his surprise both boys smiled.

  “Dad was a hero!” David shouted.

  “He killed Spiders, and taught us how to kill them, too,” Jeff added.

  “He sounds like an extraordinary soldier,” Emanuel said, relieved his answer hadn’t upset them. The image behind them switched to another shot of the migration. Without his glasses he was forced to squint. This one showed another mass of Spiders marching like troops through the clogged streets of Los Angeles. Behind the cluster of aliens, several orbs floated over the empty city streets. The shot was a still image, but he could see the Spiders had moved past the glowing spheres without tearing into them. It didn’t make any sense.

  Springing out of his chair, he made his way over to the row of screens. Spreading his fingers, he zoomed in on one of the orbs. Sure enough, the translucent blue skin, appeared fully intact.

  Why would they leave behind a resource they had fought so desperately for?

  “Did the queen tell them to move?” David asked.

  “What? The queen?” Emanuel replied, still staring at the image.

  “You said they’re the workers. Don’t workers get their orders from a queen?”

  My God, Emanuel thought, the kid is right. The Organics were not moving because they needed resources, but because they were being told to do so. This wasn’t a subconscious migration.

  The theory hit him in the gut. Why hadn’t he seen this before? The aliens weren’t colonizing Earth. They were preparing to leave the planet.

  CHAPTER 7

  IT was late, and the mess hall had mostly emptied hours before. Captain Noble sat in silence, his eyes glued to a piece of cold chicken positioned sideways on his plate. He studied it, wondering exactly how many chickens were left on the planet, knowing the answer would not make the piece in front of him taste any better.

  The first bite tasted rubbery, far from the tender grilled cutlets his wife used to put on his salads. The meal was unsatisfying, and he found himself thinking that if this was the last chicken in the world, the cook had not done it justice.

  He slid the tray away and took a sip of water. His mind drifted to Alex. Noble still didn’t know why he’d taken his life. Especially after all he had been through. After surviving for days in the heat and running from the Organics, the former high school history teacher had been given a second chance. But the captain knew things had changed. It was the end of the world. The logic of the past no longer applied.

  Perhaps the survivor’s guilt had gotten to him, or perhaps Alex had decided he just didn’t want to be part of this new world. Whatever the case, Noble wouldn’t judge him. The man had seen the horrors of the outside. Alex had witnessed firsthand what the Organics were capable of and lived through the unthinkable. Noble had only watched from afar.

  Sighing, the captain checked his watch. It was almost midnight, but he didn’t feel tired. His thoughts wandered.

  He walked down to the engineering deck to clear his head. Inside, Blake Ort hunched over the sleek black profile of a drone. The whine from a power drill echoed through the chamber as he removed a panel from the craft.

  “Evening,” Noble said from the doorway.

  Ort slid off his safety glasses and smiled. He was handsome in a rough way. With dark skin and defined arms he liked to show off by rolling up his sleeves. A thick black mustache made him look much older than his thirty-some-odd years, but Noble had never seen him without it. In a booming voice Ort said, “What’s got you up this late, sir?”

  “I wanted to check on the status of our drone here,” he said, pacing into the room and eyeing the engineer’s handiwork. Like a corpse after an autopsy, the craft had been dissected. Wires snaked out in several directions. “We have a ways to go, don’t we?”

  “Not that long, sir. I should have her up and running by morning,” Ort said. “I just need to rewire her GPS system. Otherwise she won’t be able to transmit anything. Which reminds me”—he paused to roll his sleeves up farther—“the magnetic disturbance outside. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I’ve just never seen anything like it. It’s like a never-ending EMP.” He looked over at the drone.

  Noble crossed his arms and took a seat. He was pretty sure he already knew everything Ort was about to tell him, but didn’t want to interrupt.

  “Sorry,” Ort said, sitting in the chair across from the captain. “This could take a while to explain. You sure you don’t want to catch some shut-eye?”

  The captain crossed a leg and smiled. “You know me better than that, don’t you, Ort?”

  “Yes, sir. I do,” he paused. “So I spent a week with Robert and John going over the RVAMP device we received from the biosphere team at Cheyenne Mountain. The non-weaponized version, the RVM, essentially uses magnetic technology to send out a pulse wave similar to the one the Organics are using. This effectively camouflages anyone within a certain radius.”

  Ort ran a finger across his mustache and locked eyes with Noble. “The weaponized version, the RVAMP, is where things get interesting. When the pulse is reversed, it creates a powerful surge that knocks out the aliens’ defenses for miles, depending on where the device is used.”

  “Basically, it uses their technology against them?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Do you think you can figure out a way to increase the range?”

  Ort hesitated. “Yes.”

  “That didn’t sound like a very confident yes,” Noble said.

  “It’s complicated, sir. Without understanding what’s creating the electrical disturbance, or how it’s working, I simply can’t say if I can engineer anything that will work on the level you want it to. Plus, even if we do get it to work, say, over a radius of one hundred miles or so, what then? Won’t the Organics just swoop in and crush us?”

  Noble frowned and said, “Pessimists never win wars.”

  “I’m not a soldier, sir. I’m an electrical engineer. And I’m a realist.”

  “You’re wrong, Ort. You are a soldier. Every survivor left is. All conscripted to fight the most important war in the history of the human race.” He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand over the surface of the drone. “Listen. I know it seems like my plan is impossible. It may be. But we don’t have any other choice—” He thought suddenly of Alex. There was another choice.

  “Actually, I take that back. We do have another choice. To give up. Do you want to give up, Ort?”

  He quickly shook his head. “No, sir. I’m just saying—”

  “And I’m telling you to rewire that drone and have it ready to go by morning. I want to see what’s at Offutt Air Force Base.”

  Ort’s cheeks filled with a rosy blush; anger or embarrassment, maybe a combination. Either way, Noble had offended the man. He never used to speak to his crew in such a manner, but things had changed. The crew was growing increasingly cynical, and as captain it was his job to encourage and inspire them to continue the fight.

  “Listen,” Noble said. “I don’t know if this plan will work, but we don’t have
any other option. I promise you one thing. If you build me enough modified RVAMPs, I’m going to use them. I’m going to give those bastards a run for their money.”

  Ort nodded. “I’m sure you will, sir.”

  Noble stood and patted the man on one of his wide shoulders. “I’ll check back in the morning.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Ort said confidently.

  “I know,” Noble said as he left the room.

  * * *

  Emanuel stood over Lieutenant Smith, watching the emaciated woman breathe. Her closed eyelids fluttered, a sign of a very deep sleep. Inching closer, Emanuel bumped into the feeding tube snaking out from underneath the white sheets.

  He cringed as he recalled the surgery. It had been messy. Without Alexia’s guidance and support, the marine would have likely died.

  The biomonitor told him that she was relatively stable. But even under the dim lights he could see her jaundiced skin. He was a biologist, not a medical doctor, but even he knew that Smith should have been recovering quicker.

  He thought of Saafi and Timothy, his good friends who had faced similar fates, dead at alien hands. He forced himself to look away from Smith’s frail body.

  No wonder the kids are scared of her, Emanuel thought. He shook his head and walked back to his makeshift laboratory in the corner of the room.

  Alexia’s voice suddenly sounded over the PA system. “Doctor Rodriguez. May I have a moment of your time? Doctor Winston is on her way to the medical ward. I’d like to speak to both of you about Lieutenant Smith.”

  Emanuel stopped in his tracks. He spun and caught another glimpse of the marine’s thin profile just as Sophie walked into the room. She shut the door quietly behind her.

  Between the cryo chambers, two makeshift hospital beds, and Emanuel’s lab space, the small room was packed. There wasn’t anywhere they could talk without disturbing Smith, which made Alexia’s request to speak there seem odd. Still, Emanuel sat on one of the barstools at his desk and gestured to the seat next to him as Sophie tiptoed across the floor.

  The AI didn’t wait for Sophie to take a seat. “Thank you for coming, Doctor,” she said. “I’ve made a new discovery.”

  Emanuel hated the fact he could never read Alexia. Her unwaveringly calm voice was frustrating.

  “Recent scans have detected a nanotechnology in Lieutenant Smith’s bloodstream that was previously missed.”

  “Is it the same as what I found in the Spiders?” Emanuel blurted, and then stopped himself when he realized he had interrupted her. Emanuel didn’t know much about nanotechnology outside of its use in the medical field. One of his college roommates had gone on to make incredible advances in cancer treatment by developing specialized particles that attacked cancer cells.

  “Go ahead, Doctor,” Alexia said politely.

  He waved his hands. “Sorry. You first.”

  “I believe you were going to ask if this is the same technology you discovered in the bloodstream of the Organic specimen weeks ago.” The AI’s voice cut out as she transferred to the AI console. Her face flickered and solidified over the interface.

  Emanuel nodded.

  “The answer is yes.”

  “Fascinating.” He stood and walked over to Smith’s bedside. “Any idea what the technology does inside a human?”

  “You’re looking at it,” Alexia said. “It’s killing her.”

  Emanuel flinched. “It’s killing her?” He glanced over at Sophie. Her face remained emotionless.

  “She can’t hear you, by the way,” Alexia said. “Lieutenant Smith’s brain signals indicate she is in the deepest phase of REM sleep.”

  “I wonder what she’s dreaming about,” Sophie finally said.

  “What?” Emanuel asked. He was beyond puzzled. Alexia had just discovered a new alien technology killing the woman right in front of them, and all Sophie could think about were the marine’s dreams.

  “I wonder if she has seen them,” Sophie continued.

  Emanuel ran a nervous hand through his hair. “The aliens?”

  “The multidimensional Organics,” Sophie said. She turned to him, deep wrinkles streaking across her forehead.

  Emanuel didn’t know how to respond. Between her frizzled blond hair and her expression, she looked insane. He needed to pull Holly aside. Sophie needed another intervention.

  But first he needed to see what the hell Alexia was talking about. If she was right, then the discovery changed everything. Organic technology in the blood of a human? His mind spun trying to wrap around the implications.

  Crossing the room, Emanuel left Sophie and logged into the main terminal, swinging the screen around to face him. “Show me one of the nanobots.”

  “Working,” Alexia replied. Less than a second later a peppercorn-shaped image rolled across the display. Emanuel swiped the interface and the image transferred to a hologram that hovered over the metal desk.

  “Looks kind of like a virus,” Emanuel said, scrutinizing the alien tech. Smith had lost considerable weight. Her body was rejecting everything they gave her intravenously. The thought sparked an idea. “Could the bots be preventing her digestive tract from absorbing nutrients?”

  “That’s possible,” Alexia replied. “In fact, it’s highly likely. But I don’t know how. I’ve already run several tests.”

  Emanuel gestured toward the monitor. “Sophie, any ideas?”

  She looked away from Smith’s sleeping body and crossed the room to join Emanuel at the monitors.

  “Any signs of infection?” she asked. “Bacterium, virus, anything like that?” She spoke quickly and with confidence, like a completely different person had suddenly taken hold of her.

  “No, Doctor Winston. Her immune system seems to be fine; her body simply isn’t processing nutrients,” Alexia replied.

  “Then it has to be the nanobots. They must be blocking the chemical reaction that occurs after food is digested and right before it’s passed into the bloodstream.” Sophie paused to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. Then she looked at the ground as if deep in thought. “Let’s try something. Emanuel,” she said turning to him, “take a sample of her blood. I want to run another test and see what happens. We should be able to see how the technology reacts.”

  Emanuel stood there staring at Sophie, amazed at her sudden change in demeanor. Besides her weight loss and pale skin, here was the same scientist he had entered the Biosphere with two months ago. But what had sparked the change? With a nod he made his way to the medical supplies to retrieve a vial and a syringe.

  “Has she said anything today?” Emanuel asked, preparing the needle.

  “No, Doctor. She’s been asleep all day,” Alexia replied.

  Good, then hopefully she won’t feel this, Emanuel thought. He felt for the basilic vein, finding the one in Smith’s right arm bulging. Then he very slowly inserted the needle and drew her blood. He watched the marine’s eyelids flutter.

  As Emanuel withdrew the needle her eyes suddenly snapped open. Smith grabbed his wrist and snarled, “What are you doing?!”

  The biologist tried to pull away, but the woman’s grip was surprisingly strong despite her weakened condition.

  Sophie rushed over to the bed and placed a reassuring hand over Smith’s. “It’s okay. He’s just trying to collect a sample of your blood.”

  The marine looked up at her, fear radiating from her bloodshot eyes.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, her grip shaking.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Emanuel replied. He finally pulled his wrist from the marine’s grasp and walked the tube over to the electron microscope, placing the vial safely on a rack next to several others.

  When he turned, Smith had rested her head back down on the pillow.

  “Well, that was fast,” Sophie said, gently putting the marine’s hand back on t
he bed.

  Emanuel hurried over to Smith’s bed. Her eyelids were closed, having returned to their fluttering. He shook his head. It didn’t make any sense. He was used to suspending his disbelief, but for some reason this went above and beyond floating orbs.

  “How could she immediately drift back into REM sleep?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Sophie replied. “But I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” she said, gesturing toward the microscope.

  CHAPTER 8

  JEFF missed his dad. He knew his little brother did, too. They’d lost him two and a half months ago, when he had sacrificed himself to the aliens so they could escape. Not a day passed that Jeff didn’t wonder if his dad would have been proud of him. The question ate at him every night when he lay in bed.

  Jeff rolled over to study his younger brother’s profile in the adjacent bed. The boy tossed and turned, letting out whimpers. He, too, suffered from nightmares. And why wouldn’t he? The monsters were everywhere. The planet had transformed into their horrible playground.

  Rolling over, Jeff propped up his head with a palm. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be playing outside with their friends, going camping in the mountains. But instead, they were hiding inside one.

  Closing his eyes, he thought of the only thing that made him feel better. His kills. Fifteen Spiders and three Sentinels. That’s how many of the aliens he’d eliminated since the invasion. The thought made him feel a bit better, and he began to relax. In a few hours he would be training again with Bouma and Kiel. They’d already helped him improve his aim. Next they were going to teach him how to navigate. With modern communications knocked out, learning how to orienteer was more important than ever.

  Jeff had never used a map before, and he’d only seen a compass once. His grandpa had showed him and David one years ago, claiming that it could guide someone when they were lost. But Jeff didn’t believe him at the time. How could a piece of metal that didn’t even talk give you directions?