The clatter of alien claws over the ground was only rivaled by their rallying war cries. They powered forward like a medieval army of abominations.
All Bouma could do was squeeze his trigger and fire. Spiders and Sentinels went down with the crew’s concerted efforts. Alien after alien met their demise amid the crooked corpses of trees.
Blood flew as each of Bouma’s rounds found its target. Aliens stumbled and fell, their bodies quick to be trampled by the other swarming aliens. Still, the crew managed to wipe out a swathe of the Organics before the beasts had cleared the orchard.
They might yet stand a chance.
A high-pitched shriek caught Bouma, and he twisted. Some of the spiders had scaled the wall, putting the orchard and the massive horde between them. They’d snuck around and now clambered down toward the entrance to the supply chamber. The first one climbed up, its claws ready to strike Holly.
Bouma threw himself in front of Holly, firing his rifle all the way. Blue wounds pocked the spider’s belly, nearly splitting its carapace in two. The monster’s limbs twitched as its body recoiled and fell away.
Another spider replaced it. Bouma managed to land two shots before the thing struck out at him. He parried its stabbing claw with his rifle. The move didn’t go unpunished. The spider snatched the rifle and tore it from Bouma’s hand. A claw sliced into his arm, catching his wrist and paralyzing his hand. Even if he wanted to fight back, he couldn’t. He was pinned.
He was defenseless against the crunching mandibles of the spider. His armored suit, reinforced as it was, didn’t stand a chance. One bite, and he was finished. He would die here without ever knowing if their venture to Mars had even been worth it. Maybe his sacrifice would be in vain. The rest of the crew would die here, forgotten by the Organics. The Organics would move on, as would the universe, and humanity would lie forgotten, nothing but desiccated corpses and memories lost to the Organics’ march of unending war.
Hot saliva sprayed across his visor as the spider lowered itself for a kill.
This was it.
A flash of color shot by Bouma before the spider could finish him. It was Ort. The soldier threw his huge frame in front of the spider. The alien slammed its head against Ort’s chest, knocking away the soldier’s rifle. Ort cursed, but didn’t let the alien throw off his attack. He grabbed one of the spider’s descending claws and bent it until it snapped.
The show of force impressed Bouma.
It didn’t seem to have the same effect on the spider. The alien clamped its jaws around Ort’s waist.
Bouma dove to recover his dropped rifle. The rest of the crew was diverting their fire, trying desperately to stem the tide of spiders now flowing over their position. They offered little support. Most of their lines of sight were blocked by aliens. Holly started firing into the spider, and Bouma swung his recovered rifle around.
It was too late. The spider tightened its mandibles around Ort until there was a sickening pop. The soldier fell away in two pieces, his entrails clinging to the spider’s mouth. Pulse fire riddled the spider’s head, and the beast slumped dead.
Now all Bouma saw was red.
The red of Ort’s blood. The red of the fire still raging on the other side of the biome. The red of fury flowing through him.
But no amount of fury was going to change the tide of this battle. Bouma could already see it. He inched closer to Holly, taking comfort in being near her in these final moments. Knowing that they’d shared something powerful, if not fleeting, at the end of the world, and maybe that was enough for him. Maybe his life hadn’t been for nothing.
As the spiders overwhelmed their position and the Sentinels swung their huge claws like demonic reapers, Bouma knew what had happened.
They had lost.
— 18 —
The Organic transport groaned as if it was a wooden ship swaying in violent ocean water. If Jeff closed his eyes, he could even pretend that was where he was. The saltiness of the dried sweat over his face helped reinforce the illusion.
But when he opened his eyes, it was clear that he was in a place more unfamiliar than any he’d ever been to on Earth. Not that he’d traveled too far from home. He remembered going to Disney World once, when David could barely talk. The excitement of being there with all the familiar characters and the scenery was easy to recall. He had felt like he was in a movie.
Within the cavernous belly of the Organic ship and its ghostly blue lighting, he felt like he and David were in a movie here, too. Just the wrong type of movie. The kind their dad never let them watch.
A forest of wide tubes surrounded them, stretching from the ceiling down and into the deck. Between those tubes lay stacks of metal cratelike objects. There was more than enough space for Jeff and David to hunker down behind one of those stacks. Several of the crates near them were more like cages. They had walls of bars with enough space between them Jeff could peer through them to monitor the rest of the chamber.
“I hear another!” David whispered.
Jeff and David shrank back into the corner. There they took solace in the darkness. A strange shape—it didn’t look like a spider or a Sentinel or anything else Jeff had ever seen—moved about near the center of the massive chamber. Jeff watched the alien. It stood on two legs and had two long arms. It looked like some kind of humanoid crab, although it appeared more human than crab. It used its arms to remove something from a huge, silver cylinder in the middle of the room, a much smaller cylinder. This smaller one was about the size of a can of soda, and completely clear. Inside it sloshed a fluorescent green liquid. The alien seemed to hold it up to its face and examine it before leaving. This scene had repeated itself a number of times while Jeff and David had been hiding in this room.
They had spent a long time sneaking through the corridors. Because of all the hoses and pipes and tubes stretching from the bulkhead to the deck, it had been easy enough to find hiding places. The ship seemed more like a jungle to Jeff than anything mechanical. Still, everywhere they went in the corridors, the spiders were pacing back and forth like sentries. No matter how well he thought they were hidden, he didn’t want to be caught near a single one of them.
This room, however, was different. There were no spiders. Just the strange two-legged aliens that drifted in and out every once in a while. The aliens never turned on any overhead lights in here, so it stayed relatively dark. For the first time in Jeff’s life, he found himself really thankful for the dark. He knew there were no monsters hiding in it; just him and David.
They sat in the darkness as the ship hummed. A weight dragged on Jeff’s eyelids at the rhythmic noise. His body was telling him to fall asleep. Exhaustion had finally crept up on him.
But he couldn’t let himself relax. Bouma had always told him the first time a soldier relaxes on the battlefield, it’s his last time. That was always when the enemy got you.
David, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as disciplined. He stole a nap under Jeff’s watchful eye. Jeff hovered over his brother, careful to make sure he wasn’t in any danger, but still letting him sleep. David would need it. The path off this ship and whatever came next wasn’t going to be easy.
Another alien walked into the dark chamber and went to the silver cylinder. It took a vial of the green, glowing liquid and left.
There was something strange about the way those aliens walked. Their gait wasn’t like the animalistic prowling of the spiders or Sentinels. They seemed so much calmer. Almost like humans. Jeff shuddered. He guessed they were the ones in control of this ship, and somehow told the spiders and Sentinels what to do.
When another of the two-legged aliens walked in, Jeff squinted, trying desperately to see what its face looked like. The darkness prevented him from getting a really good look.
The alien looked up past the glowing green liquid it held in its hands. Its eyes burned an icy blue stare into the darkness.
Jeff froze. He swore the alien was looking right at him. His heart climbed into his throat, and
he couldn’t breathe. The alien’s gaze didn’t waver. A coldness swept through Jeff’s chest and his muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. If he moved fast, he might be able to fire on the alien. He could probably take it out before it ran and set off an alarm.
But then what?
The rounds wouldn’t go unnoticed. They’d need another good hiding spot. Or worse, they’d need off the ship.
Oh, please, please, please look away, Jeff prayed. Please, just go away.
His skin prickled as the cold grip of fear seethed under his flesh. Just from the way this alien’s eyes glowed, he could sense an intelligence there that wasn’t in the spiders. Those aliens were just monsters. This one was something different.
The humanoid had to know he was there.
Just had to.
The alien took a step forward, then its head swiveled. Finally, its eyes strayed from Jeff’s. The alien marched to the other side of the chamber, took a seat, then started chugging the green liquid. Messy gulps slurped from the alien until it finished. Once the vial was empty, it went back up to the huge silver drum and grabbed another before disappearing into the hall.
So, that green stuff is some kind of food?
Jeff’s belly rumbled. He wondered if he could eat it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to.
But if they were on this ship much longer, they might not have a choice.
At least his suit told him the atmosphere within the ship was nearly equivalent to Earth’s. That meant he could breathe. The suit also told him it would be like he was up on a mountain. He would find it harder to breathe because there was slightly less oxygen in the air than he was used to.
He decided that was probably okay. He’d hiked up tall mountains with David and his dad on Earth, and he remembered how he’d felt when short of breath. The sensation had been weird, but he’d gotten used to it.
His suit beeped at him. His oxygen levels were low again, and the suit would need a recharge. Maybe it was time to test the atmosphere.
Jeff sat down beside David again. His brother turned over. His eyes opened groggily, and he yawned.
“Are we still okay?” David asked, his voice sounding as if his mind was somewhere in dreamland.
“Yeah,” Jeff said, “we’re still safe, bud.”
“Good.” David stretched his arms, his hands balled into fists. “You think we’ll actually make it back to Sophie and the others?”
“That’s why we got on this ship.”
“I know, but… if you say so.”
“I do.”
David let out a soft chuckle. “Now you sound like dad.”
The reassuring whoosh of air blew through a ventilation duct overhead, rustling Jeff’s suit.
“Bud,” Jeff said, “I’m about out of oxygen again.”
“You really suck that stuff down.”
“It’s hard not to when you breathe.”
Now David sat up straighter, more alert. “Are you going to try the atmosphere?”
“The suit said it’s okay.”
David nodded, but didn’t seem reassured. “If you need to borrow the oxygen canister from my suit…”
“No, that’s yours,” Jeff said. “I’m going to let mine recharge in here.” He took a deep breath. “The suit said the air’s okay.”
He repeated the words. He knew he wasn’t just trying to reassure David. He was trying to convince himself.
It’s okay to be afraid, the words echoed through time, resonating in his head. But it’s the brave and courageous who act in the face of fear.
Jeff took off his helmet. There was no whoosh of air to signify a drastic change in pressure. It was just peaceful and calm. At least his brains hadn’t come flying out his nostrils, sucked away by the alien atmosphere.
“Can you breathe?” David asked.
His voice sounded tinny through Jeff’s helmet, which was now by his side. Jeff shrugged. He was holding his breath, afraid of what that first intake of air might mean. Maybe it was full of poison that would make his body go rigid and destroy his brain from the inside out anyway. Maybe it didn’t carry enough oxygen after all, and no matter how much he gulped down, he would suffocate.
There was only one way to tell. He closed his eyes, blew out, and sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the ship’s air. A coolness spread from his chest to his limbs. He didn’t feel dizzy, and he didn’t feel like he was suffocating. He felt relief.
The air was dry, but didn’t feel so much different than Colorado. There was a slightly metallic flavor to it, but Jeff didn’t let that bother him either.
“It’s okay,” Jeff said. He felt happy. They were no longer bobbing along in white rapids struggling for a branch to hold on to. They had a lifesaver right here. They could breathe the Organic atmosphere in the ship and recharge the suits.
Jeff lost track of time as he got used to having his helmet off. Eventually David had to take his off, too. They soaked in the atmosphere. For the first time since they’d gotten to Mars, they felt like they weren’t fleeing from something. They were on the enemy’s ship, but still, it was reprieve from all the running and fighting.
Eventually, though, it had to end. He and David would need to find the others, and they would need food and water. But for now, he traded stories with David about life with their dad, and all the animals and foods they missed from Earth. All the things they hoped they would get a chance to do when Earth returned to normal, like camping and snowboarding and video games.
It was probably all a fantasy. Unrealistic. Just like Disney World. Jeff knew that, but it felt good to pretend there might be a time when he didn’t have to be a soldier.
The humming in the ship crescendoed until a dull roar reverberated through the ship’s hull. The already dim lights in the hold went completely black. Jeff tossed his helmet on and immediately engaged the night vision elements. Almost as soon as he did, the entire ship shook. Metal groaned and settled, and a loud hissing sounded just outside their chamber.
All the lights flared back on. A persistent, low noise echoed in a ghostly wail.
“Is that an alarm?” Jeff asked.
David shrugged, looking white behind his visor.
Footsteps pounded through the corridors. Some sounded strangely like human bootsteps. Maybe it was those two-legged creatures they’d seen? Others scraped by with the familiar scritch-scratch of the spiders’ claws, and there was also the heavy thumping of the Sentinels.
“They’re getting off,” David said. He looked up at his older brother. “Should we?”
***
A wave of heat swept through Sophie’s body. The nanobots weren’t causing this, nor was it the anger of the Organics being transmitted through the miniscule machines. This was a fire of her own making. Pure rage and adrenaline coursed through her with unbridled intensity, crashing through her like a Sentinel let loose in a subway full of hapless humans. The rifle still kicked against her shoulder as she sought to bring justice to every one of the Organics overtaking their position.
Bouma was bleeding. Ort was dead. The children were screaming, and Holly was firing desperately at a spider absorbing her blows. Diego showed no expression, merely fighting like a machine without any perception of mortality.
And none if it would be enough.
The screams of the spiders, charging and dying, smashed over her in a tidal wave of fury. Sentinels pounded the deck. A fire consumed half the biome, the acrid odor of burning plastic and smoke stinging her nostrils. She couldn’t tell if her suit had been compromised or if it was just her imagination. Maybe it was the nanobots.
She had no time to whip out the OCT and check if the nanobots had passed the point of no return. That hardly mattered now. Whatever plans the Organics might’ve had for her were going to be dashed across the deck under the bloodied claws of the aliens.
“Sophie, watch out!” Emanuel yelled.
He blasted a spider crawling near her. Pulsefire tore three of the spider’s legs off and punctured i
ts thorax. Blood wept from the wounds, but still it pulled itself toward Sophie.
She aimed at the beast. Its eyes searched her, each of the compound orbs seeming to measure her up with laser-like intensity. A burst from her rifle ended the spider’s assessment.
One down, Sophie thought. Too many to go.
Another spider scrambled over the corpse of its fallen comrade. It reared back at Sophie. This time Emanuel was caught fending off a spider of his own. Sophie tried to fire at the beast, but it shot a claw forward that knocked her aim off. She barely avoided getting impaled by that plunging claw. But all she’d accomplished was delaying the inevitable.
The spider towered over her. Its mandibles snapped together, and ropes of saliva dripped from them. Everything seemed to slow down. The blast of gunfire sounded hollow and weak. The chorus of alien voices was drowned out by the blood rushing through Sophie’s ears. Her heart thumped as though trying to carry her away from this alien by itself.
There was no escape now. No more fighting back. This was where it ended.
No, Sophie thought. This isn’t how it ends. This is just the beginning. Stop. Stop. STOP!
The spider lowered its mandibles until they found her waist. An intense pressure squeezed at her insides as it began to close its mouth around her, threatening to split her just as the other one had done to Ort. All the air rushed from her lungs as the monster tightened its grip. She could no longer breathe.
STOP! she screamed in her head. She felt the vibrations of the nanobots coalescing within her, and the voices of the Organics echoed in her skull. Thousands of years of rage and a relentless quest to rebuild what had once been laced those voices.
She tried to picture Emanuel. He was the last person or thing she wanted to see before she died. Not this alien landscape that she didn’t give a shit about. She wanted Emanuel in that moment, and the Organics were taking even that small freedom from her.
Orbs IV_Exodus_A Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction Survival Thriller Page 24
