Orbs IV_Exodus_A Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction Survival Thriller

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “That virus, or whatever it is that’s stopped us, is from the Organics, isn’t it?” Emanuel asked.

  “That is correct,” Sonya said.

  Compromised as she was, Sonya hadn’t mentioned it because they hadn’t asked.

  Too late now.

  “Looks like we’ll have to take the ship after all,” Ort said, already standing.

  “I don’t think that’s going to be possible, is it?” Emanuel asked, looking back at the display. “Sonya, are you able to power up the Secundo Casu’s engines?”

  “No, I am not,” Sonya replied.

  “The same program is preventing you from doing so,” Emanuel said, unable to keep the defeat from his words.

  “It is.”

  Emanuel looked at the display that showed the approaching Organic ships. They would be on them in minutes. Going by foot seemed to be about their only option. But then they’d be run down in a matter of seconds, cut down by the Organics before they even got out of sight of the malfunctioning Rhino.

  There was only one other option that Emanuel could think of. It seemed insane, but he wasn’t sure they had anything to lose at this point.

  “Sonya,” he started, “do you think you can control an Organic ship?”

  — 16 —

  “Doc, if this actually works, I’m going to buy you the biggest damn drink on Mars,” Bouma said.

  The others trailed behind him as they abandoned the Rhino. The sky was still full of brilliant stars, and Bouma wondered which of those might be an Organic ship waiting to descend on them. His fingers itched for the rifle strapped across his back.

  But if Sonya was right about how many ships were headed toward them, he doubted a few EMP grenades, RVAMPs, and rifles were going to win them any battles. Turning one of the Organics’ weapons against them, on the other hand, sounded more promising. At least it offered them a better mode of escape than hoofing it.

  They ran back to the vehicle hold of the Secundo Casu.

  “You know what?” Ort said, his voice rumbling over the comms in their helmets. “I’m getting real sick of this ship already.”

  “Don’t get too sick of it,” Emanuel said. Owen was running beside him, hand-in-hand. “If this Organic ship can get us out of here, then that’s all that matters.”

  “It was probably something that came from this stupid ship that got us stuck here in the first place,” Ort said. “And you want to try to get it to work now?”

  “Look, if that program was meant to subvert human software, it may not have the same effect on Organic software—or whatever it is that controls an Organic ship,” Sophie said. They plunged into the first corridor of the cavernous biosphere ship, their bootsteps echoed noisily in the otherwise quiet structure. “You’ve got to remember that the Organics were probably trying to lock down human technology. They weren’t trying to sabotage their own ships.”

  “God, I hope you’re right,” Holly said, holding Jamie’s hand as they ran.

  Once they reached the vehicle hold, they dashed straight toward the Organic ship. The craft sat there, alone in the vast space, taunting them in the near darkness. Blackness, like the shadows around it, covered its hull. Gun barrels jutted from the front of the strange ship like tusks.

  Emanuel reached the ship first. He brushed his hand along the side of the smooth hull as he ran toward the forward hatch. Lines were etched into the side of the ship, marking the location of the hatch clearly. To his surprise, a simple tug on the handle-like orifice released the door. The hatch opened the rest of the way automatically, and a short ramp extended down at his feet.

  “That’s it,” Emanuel said, standing frozen before the ship. He took a step back. “That’s what was bugging me about this thing.”

  Fear suddenly wrapped its icy grip around Bouma’s heart. He reached for his rifle, pulling it free. “What is it, Doc?”

  “The hatch is human-sized,” Emanuel said. “Sure, there are doors big enough for spiders and even a Sentinel to get out, but that hatch is perfect for a person. Why would they do that?”

  Goosebumps prickled along Bouma’s flesh. The only human-sized thing he’d ever seen working for the Organics was Lt. Smith, when her body had been ravaged by nanobots. “Maybe there’s some other alien we haven’t seen yet,” he offered.

  “Maybe,” Emanuel said.

  “Well, we going to get on this thing or just sit here talking about it?” Diego asked. He pushed past them and strode into the vessel. Pivoting on his heels, he pointed his rifle into the ship. Suddenly, lights burst to life within it, offering an evanescent azure glow. “Clear!”

  Bouma entered the ship next. The blue overhead lights illuminated a cabin that was nearly as dark as the outer hull. Hoses draped from the ceiling looked much like pulsing blood vessels, and consoles sprouted from the bulkhead like they’d grown there. The ship looked more like a living thing than it did a piece of machinery.

  The others filed in.

  Holly paused near the hatch. “Should I close it? You think we’ll get stuck in here if I do?”

  “If we’re going to try flying this thing, we’ve got to shut the door,” Bouma said. “Besides, if we get stuck in here, the Organics will probably be nice enough to let us out.”

  “Not exactly a scientist over here, but I don’t see any data points to make a hard connect,” Diego said from what appeared to be the cockpit.

  Bouma joined him in there. “What the hell is this?”

  The space looked eerily like it had been made for a human crew. There were actual seats and controls that could fit a human ass and human hands respectively. What looked to be display panels were positioned in front of two seats in a configuration not so different from what was in the Rhino.

  Those seats actually looked inviting. Bouma slipped into one. “Fits just like a glove. It’s like they—”

  Black cables suddenly protruded from under the seat’s headrest. They snaked over his body and pressed him to the chair.

  “Bouma!” Diego shouted.

  But the cables stopped just short of constricting him.

  “I think I’m okay,” Bouma said. He gave them a tug for good measure. “These seem like some kind of automated harnesses.”

  Trying to test the limits, he threw his body against them. They withstood the sudden movement. But when he tried standing slowly, they loosened and retracted. They seemed to know he was trying to stand, and let him.

  “This is amazing,” he said. Before he let himself get too enraptured with the marvels of the strange ship, they had to get the thing flying. “This craft seems to respond to human touch, so, uh, why don’t we try touching things.”

  Ort raised a brow, but pressed his palm against one of the vacant panels at the front of the ship. The display buzzed to life. A swarm of indecipherable characters scrolled across the screen. Their brilliant sapphire show nearly blinded Bouma. He had to shield his eyes until his pupils adjusted to them.

  “Can’t read alien,” he said. “Can you?”

  Sophie joined them in the cabin and leaned over his shoulder. She squinted at the screen. For a second, he thought she might actually be able to decipher it. Maybe those nanobots were doing the work for her. But she shook her head and leaned back.

  “I could just try pressing things again,” Ort said.

  “Yeah, let’s not,” Diego said. “Sonya, we could use your help. By the grace of God, do you know if you can connect to the Organic ship’s computers?”

  “There is a live connection from the Secundo Casu to the Primitive Transport,” Sonya answered.

  “Primitive Transport?” Bouma asked. “That’s what this ship is called?”

  “That is the identifier given to the ship in English by the ship’s systems.”

  “Okay, well, whatever this thing is, can you get this transport moving?”

  There was a moment of silence. “It appears that I can.”

  “Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding,” Bouma said. “Strap in everyone, w
e’re going for a ride!”

  The others found their seats, and the tentacle-like harnesses secured them in place. If this worked, Bouma was going to take back all the negative thoughts he’d had about the compromised version of Sonya.

  Bouma settled into the pilot’s seat and wrapped his hands around the controls. “Does this thing work like a human ship?”

  “No, the engines are quite different,” Sonya began.

  Bouma cut her off before she could continue. “I mean, do the controls steer the ship just like the controls do on our human ships?”

  “It would appear to function in a similar manner.”

  Bouma shrugged. “Close enough. Sonya, how long before contact?”

  “Five minutes,” she said.

  “Sonya, can you help me fly this thing?” Bouma asked.

  “I can attempt to aid in control management,” Sonya said.

  Bouma let out a long exhale, before mouthing a prayer to himself. “Okay, then feel free to make the attempt. Let’s start this thing up.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Sonya, that’s your cue,” Bouma said.

  “I am attempting engine startup procedures, but the system is requesting a biological input.”

  A panel shimmered blue in front of Bouma. The display looked like a thin layer of iridescent water on glass. Part of it gave way, revealing a black shape eerily representative of a human hand. “I’m assuming that’s the input.” He pressed his gloved hand against the screen and held his breath, waiting for the engines to roar to life.

  Nothing happened.

  “Maybe it’s like a capacitive screen or something,” Emanuel offered. “You might need skin-to-screen contact.”

  Bouma stripped off his glove.

  “Organic ships are now within three minutes of our position,” Sonya said.

  His heart was pounding, threatening to climb out of his throat and sprint away across the deck. This had to work. This had to take them out of here. It was absolutely crazy, but…

  He pressed his splayed fingers against the screen. An electric discharge flowed from the screen and into his flesh. An instinctual urge told him to retract his hand, but he couldn’t. An invisible force seemed to be holding it there.

  The fluid-like display rippled like his hand marked the spot where a pebble had been thrown into a pond. A low buzz hummed from the computers in the cockpit, and other lights flashed from displays. Those indecipherable characters continued to flow across all the screens.

  “What’s going on, Sonya?” Bouma asked.

  Sparks of electricity seemed to emanate from his lips, and the world around him began to turn blue. The flow—or whatever it was—coursing through his body warmed his flesh and tightened around his throat.

  Oh, God, this was probably not supposed to happen.

  Then it all stopped.

  The electricity seemed to flow right out of Bouma and back into the screen. Whatever force had been holding his hand to the screen let go, and the display went black.

  “I am currently deciphering the script to translate the messages I am receiving,” she said. “There is a key provided by the ship to translate into human languages.”

  “A key?” Sophie asked. “Why would they have a translation key like this?”

  No one had a good answer for that one. Not even Sonya.

  “I am unsure of the reason for the key’s existence,” Sonya said, “but I have translated the failure message.”

  “And?” Bouma asked, anxious to try something, anything to get this transport ship flying.

  “It appears to have performed a genetic analysis on you,” Sonya said. “While the scan was successful, it detected only human genetic material within your cells. To start this ship, the person who initiates it must have approximately fifty percent human genetic material and fifty percent Organic-derived genetic material. In simple terms, the person must be a hybrid between human and Organic.”

  ***

  The suffering, the constant torture of being thirsty, hungry, and cold. The endless boredom. The mental anguish of knowing he’d lost everything. The torture was almost over now. There would be no more shivering in his orb. There would be no more thinking about his wife and daughters. He wouldn’t have to curl up and sob like a filthy, naked animal in his prison.

  But he wasn’t entirely sure that being sacrificed to some alien gods was all that much better.

  He sat on the freezing floor of the orb, shaking from the cold, and waiting for the conveyor belts to click back to life. There seemed to be a jam somewhere along the line, but Noble couldn’t see where. And none of the multi-dimensional entities were within his line of sight either.

  The other orbs ahead blocked his view inside the massive pyramid. Ribbit was trying to push himself up, but kept slumping back to the ground. He continued to croak intermittently, but his utterances were getting further and further apart.

  Ribbit didn’t have much time left, but Noble wasn’t sure it mattered any longer. Soon they would be sacrificed to the great realm of light, whatever the fuck that meant.

  His eyes flitted to the curved façade over the entrance to the pyramid, and the hieroglyphics carved into the blue blocks. He wondered what they meant, then just as abruptly decided he didn’t give a shit.

  A blast of light shot out of the pyramid. The usual vibration shook the belt and rocked the orb. Noble steadied himself by holding his arms out.

  The belt clicked back on, pushing the orbs inexorably toward the entrance of the pyramid. He stood, let his arms fall to his sides and stiffened his back. If this was it for him, he wasn’t going out like a sniveling coward. Captain Rick Noble would show the Organics what it meant to be human.

  “Come on!” he shouted, pounding his chest with a thump. “You want me? Come get me, you fucking assholes!”

  The curved entrance to the pyramid continued swallowing the orbs ahead. A torrent of rumbles and booms followed.

  A melancholy alien wail reverberated through the conveyer belt in the respite between the horrifying noises. It lasted for several seconds before silencing. Noble found the sad cry fitting.

  “Let’s go, assholes!” he yelled even louder.

  The curved rim of the entrance flashed blue across the hieroglyphics, giving Noble a vivid view of the different shapes and figures carved into the stone. There were species from Earth, including humans, giraffes, rhinos, sharks. The list went on and on. But there were also alien shapes. Some looked like Roots, others appeared like the gas and puddle creatures from the chamber of the zoo ship. There were also Organic spiders and the Sentinels. He even saw what Doctor Sophie Winston’s team had called a Steam Beast. There were hundreds, and…

  “My God,” he whispered as the belt drew him in. The images and shapes didn’t stop on the façade above the doorway. They were carved into every block that made up the five hundred-story structure. There had to be millions of different aliens represented here. He pushed his palms against the wall of his orb, straining to see, but the pyramid swallowed his prison before he could get a better look.

  Darkness consumed Noble, but he could still sense motion. His eyes adjusted just a few seconds later, and he saw blue flames glowing in sconces far across the chamber. This place had to be about a mile long and just as much wide.

  In the center of the open space, a triangular platform sat directly below the pinnacle of the roof. Eight multi-dimensional aliens hovered around the raised platform.

  For the first time, Noble saw their true forms. They were simply a drape of wrinkled tan skin. No arms. No legs. No faces. Just a bed sheet of skin, about the height of a man.

  In the center of the raised platform, a drain emptied goo into the bowels of the pyramid.

  Spiders standing between the two rows of belts used their talons to pluck orbs off the belts one at a time and then roll them toward the shrine. Working together, the creatures pushed the orbs up a ramp. At the top of the ramp, the orbs were then moved, one by one, onto the center pl
atform, where a metallic clamp held them in place.

  A brilliant light flashed, liquefying the orb and the prisoner inside instantaneously, before blasting the remains through the opening at the top of the pyramid. To his right, the aliens trapped in the other orbs were all screeching and moving inside their prisons. Each must understand to some extent what was about to happen.

  The gust of energy from the blast slammed into Noble’s orb. He crashed into the gooey wall. The skin of the orb came off in his mouth, but he didn’t care about the sour taste.

  He was too focused on the next orb moving up the ramp. Ribbit was pulled off the belt by a pair of spiders. They rolled the ball onto the triangular shrine.

  “NO!” Noble shouted. “You sick fucking pieces of alien shit! Let him go!”

  A cackling noise and a crunching came from behind. Noble glanced over his shoulder to see Roots trying to cut his way through the wall of his orb with his twig arms.

  Noble swallowed hard, and in a fit of rage threw a punch at his orb wall. His fist pushed the thick skin outward.

  “Don’t hurt him!” Noble screamed. He pulled his arm back and punched again, and again and again, until a window opened to the outside world. He reached out with both hands and began prying away the skin, screaming.

  The other aliens were creating such a ruckus that he couldn’t hear anything over the din of grunts, croaks, and otherworldly wails.

  This is a most dishonorable way to acknowledge your contribution to the great realm.

  He blocked the multi-dimensional alien out of his mind.

  “Fuck your honor!”

  Noble ripped the wall of his orb open, his muscles contracting across his chest. He let out a war cry as he pulled the gooey hide back and stared out over the platform.

  A dozen spiders all pivoted toward his orb.

  “Let Ribbit go!” Noble shouted.