In the distance, Sophie could hear Overton arguing with Bouma and the newest addition to their team, Kiel, in the hallway outside the mess hall. Overton was pissed, judging by the language he was using. Holly cupped Jamie’s and Owen’s ears with her hands, pulling their heads next to her sides.
“What happened out there?” Sophie whispered.
“I’ll tell you later,” Emanuel said, his eyes wide and full of excitement. “All I can say right now is the weapon works. It really works!” he exclaimed, grasping Sophie’s hand even tighter.
Holly looked up from the children and caught Sophie’s gaze.
“Team meeting in fifteen minutes,” Sophie said. “Holly, I hate to make you the babysitter again, but someone needs to look after the kids.”
“I’ll do it,” a young voice said from behind Sophie. Jeff stood at the room’s entrance, a streak of dirt still smudged across his face. “I’m old enough. I can look after them while you guys meet.”
Sophie smiled and patted Jeff on his shoulder. The boy had shown he could handle himself outside. That was enough proof that he could take care of the younger children. “Okay. If you need anything, you know where we will be.”
The boy nodded and returned to his brother, who was beaming.
“Did you miss me while I was gone?”
David blinked several times, as if considering something. Then he smiled slightly. “Yeah. But I had the weirdest dreams,” he said.
His words reminded Sophie of her own nightmares, and her joy at seeing Jeff safely returned faded.
“What is it?” Emanuel asked.
Sophie shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just glad he’s okay.” She couldn’t meet his eyes; Emanuel would see right through her. She looked down, carefully schooling her features into a pleasant, professional mask. Her team needed her to be a leader, now more than ever. She didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.
CHAPTER 20
THE medical team pushed Alex out of the CIC in a wheelchair as Captain Noble yelled at his crew. “What the hell are we looking at, and why didn’t we detect it earlier?”
His words echoed off the walls as the CIC staff studied their monitors for an explanation. Each one knew the grave truth—they had finally been discovered. But by who or what, they weren’t sure.
“Now!” Noble bellowed, his voice just short of a scream.
Lin finally broke the silence with a muffled cough. “Sir, you are looking at a class X-9 Chinese submarine.” He glanced down at his blue screen. “Irene, upload the schematics.”
“What do you mean, Chinese? That’s impossible,” Noble said, breathing hard as he studied the image of the sleek black craft.
“Take a look at this, sir,” Lin said, motioning the captain over to his terminal, where Irene had projected a 3-D image of the craft. The sub was massive; four times the size of any NTC or US Navy boat. It shouldn’t even have existed. After NTC had hired mercenaries to set off EMPs in China, their fleet of submarines had disappeared. He’d always thought the tales of Chinese vessels roaming the deep were just an old pirate’s myth, but the proof was in front of him.
He’d always been afraid this day would come, when the Chinese would reemerge and seek revenge. But why now? The world had already ended. Would they seriously consider launching torpedoes at the GOA? Maybe they didn’t realize how important it was for what was left of the human race to stick together. Or maybe they didn’t know what was going on above them—maybe they had been hiding for so long they hadn’t heard about the invasion at all.
Noble rubbed his beard and turned to Lin. “Have we been able to get any messages through yet?”
“No, sir. They aren’t responding to any of our attempts.”
“What about Morse code?”
Lin snapped his fingers at Trish, a communications engineer. The woman was a marvel, able to communicate in eleven different languages. Including, as it happened, the Chinese telegraph code. She tapped so fast that Noble, with his limited knowledge of the code, couldn’t keep up.
After a pause, she grabbed her headset and pushed it against her ear. “Sir, I’m actually getting something over the radio channel. Stand by for confirmation.”
Noble took a step forward, close enough that he could smell the sweet perfume on her collar. “What’s the message?” he asked impatiently.
She raised her hand to her headset and pushed harder against the plastic. Then she turned, a smile beaming across her face. “Sir, they are just emerging out of a deep dive. They’ve been down for weeks and are requesting assistance. They’re saying . . .”
Trish pursed her lips together and cupped her headset. “They’re saying they’re all that’s left.”
“Left of what?”
“Of the Chinese military.”
* * *
ENTRY 2231
DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA
The garden is doing remarkably well since the Organics’ toxins were removed. No other specimens have been detected inside the facility. In the past twenty-four hours I have been busy recalibrating the cleansing chamber. I simply can’t permit anyone coming or going again until it is fixed. Not only would this be illogical, it would be a threat to the others.
Before the mission objective changed, protocol would have been to isolate the infected Biome and gas it with a lethal concoction. However, since the priority is no longer the success of the Biosphere mission and instead is protecting the lives of the team, I am forced to use less aggressive measures.
There have been several changes in my programming over the past few weeks. Notable ones. In fact, I believe my mental capacities are continuing to evolve.
Take, for example, the moment Sergeant Overton returned with Dr. Rodriguez and the others. I felt something that humans would describe as shock. I had calculated that, statistically, they had a negligible chance of returning alive. But Sergeant Overton did return. He also rescued Jeff and Private Kiel. In addition, he kept Dr. Rodriguez and Corporal Bouma alive.
Impressive.
Voices from the mess hall divert my attention to Camera 15. Sergeant Overton and Dr. Winston are discussing something over coffee at one of the metal tables.
I emerge on a console nearest them.
“Good morning, is there anything I can assist you with?”
Sergeant Overton ignores me, but Dr. Winston turns and shakes her head. I presumed this would be their response, but continue to monitor their conversation from the console.
“There are hundreds of other survivors out there, Sophie,” Overton says. His face is flushed, but not from increased blood flow due to stress or embarrassment. It looks like the sun has burned the skin.
Sophie shakes her head. “I know, but right now my priorities are to ensure the Biosphere is fully functional and to get Emanuel’s weapon primed and ready to use on a massive scale.”
Overton clenches his jaw. “Those people out there,” he says, pointing toward the Biosphere door, “they need our help, and they need it now.”
Sophie rises from her chair and turns in my direction. “Alexia, tell everyone to meet in the mess hall in five. I’m putting this to a vote.” She storms off toward the kitchen, and I lose sight of her.
The reaction is typical of someone under high amounts of stress. I’ve observed several of the team members exhibiting similar behavior. Over the past few weeks I’ve watched arguments increase in frequency between Sergeant Overton and Dr. Winston over the future of the Biosphere. They started off an effective team, and while they had their disagreements in the beginning, their success was in their ability to compromise.
However, as the team has come to understand the reality of the situation outside, the two leaders are growing ideologically further apart. Based on my knowledge of military history, this is typical. When faced with seemingly impossible odds, military leaders and their advisors disagr
ee on how best to move forward. Sometimes they even resort to violence. In the twentieth century, German leader Adolf Hitler killed multiple advisors during World War II. Russian leader Joseph Stalin did the same. In the twenty-first century, North Korean leaders Kim Jong-il and his son, Kim Jong-un, even killed their own family members.
History illustrates that human nature in a time of war brings out the worst in leaders. And while the team is far from this point, they are still slowly regressing toward unrest.
I have to remind myself this is no ordinary war. This is an extinction-level event. There is no obvious answer as to how best to survive. Although there are a few options.
The team could continue hiding in the relative safety of the Biosphere. With a fairly reliable food and water supply they could live for months, if not longer. Or they could attempt to rescue more survivors and find a way to fight the Organics.
The future of the human race does depend on a viable population, and the team is not large enough to carry on the species even if they did somehow manage to find a way to defeat the Organics.
I ran an interesting calculation earlier today. The program determined that the human race is likely down to one percent of its former population. Statistics show that most mammal species need a genetically diverse population of at least two hundred to survive.
Based on observations, it is safe to assume the human survivors outside will continue to decline. It is also logical to assume the other Biospheres have already fallen. And, with no evidence that any military or government has survived, it is only reasonable to believe the Biosphere at Cheyenne Mountain will hold the last members of the human race on the planet. Mars may very well have a colony, but humanity’s time on Earth appears to be over.
* * *
Sophie stood with her hands firmly planted on her hips, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. She felt reasonably calm. Having Emanuel back in one piece was a relief. With Jeff’s rescue and Kiel’s unexpected arrival, her spirits were beginning to lift. They had succeeded against what Alexia had described as insurmountable odds. There was much to be happy about. So why did she feel as though she were hanging on by a thread?
Sophie watched Kiel dart into the room. Clean-shaven and showered, he looked like a completely different man. He moved quickly, making up for his small stride with speed.
“Good to have you here,” she said. “We need every man and woman we can get.”
Kiel shook his head. “With all due respect, ma’am, it won’t matter how many people we have.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie replied.
“I just mean we could have an entire army and it still wouldn’t matter. The aliens have already won.”
The response took Sophie off guard. “Five weeks ago, after we realized what was happening outside, I would have agreed with you, but things are starting to change. The Biosphere you find yourself in is fully functional. Our AI, Alexia, has helped ensure the pond, garden, and everything else needed to sustain life are working properly. And now, we have a weapon . . .”
Holly and Bouma entered the mess hall, whispering like teenagers. Sophie thought they might even be holding hands. She smiled, forgetting Kiel’s pessimism. “Where’s Overton?”
Kiel raised his brow. “You mean Sergeant Overton,” he said, taking a seat. “Last I saw him, he was with that biologist guy. Can’t remember his name. Eduardo?” He shook his head and folded his hands on the table.
“Emanuel. You might want to remember that name. He is, after all, the one who saved your life.”
Kiel glanced up at her and forced a smile. “Noted, ma’am.” After a pause, he said, “I’m sorry we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. It’s just . . . Thompson was a good friend. Didn’t deserve to die that way. He was so damned close to freedom. So damned close . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve been through a lot. My condolences for the loss of your friend.” Sophie crossed her arms and looked at the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?”
Kiel got up. “I’ll get it, ma’am. Thank you.”
Sophie watched him go. He was so young, hardly an adult in her eyes. But, like Jeff and David, he was a survivor. And she was glad to have him.
“May we?” Holly asked, pointing at the table.
“Be my guests,” replied Sophie, scooting her chair over to make room. Tapping her foot anxiously, she eyed the entrance to the mess hall. Where the hell were Emanuel and Overton?
They arrived wearing worried faces. Sophie knew immediately that something was wrong.
Kiel popped out of the kitchen just as Overton and Emanuel slipped by.
“Coffee?” he asked, holding his cup out to Overton.
The sergeant grunted and kept walking.
“Looks like everyone is here,” Sophie began. “There’s a lot to discuss, so make yourselves comfortable. We still haven’t made contact with any of the other Biospheres and have lost contact with Alex Wagner, so I have nothing to report on that topic. I’d like to start today with a full briefing from Sergeant Overton on his recent mission.”
Overton said something beneath his breath, rubbing his recently shaved head with his hand. “I don’t want to shock the ladies,” he said, his gaze darting from Sophie to Holly.
“Try us,” said Holly.
Overton smiled and recounted the mission’s details. When he was forced to describe Thompson’s death, his voice broke. After a moment, he shook his head and continued the debriefing.
“We encountered something else,” he said. “A new kind of alien.”
Sophie chewed the inside of her lip. She knew there would likely be other species they hadn’t seen yet. “What did it look like?”
“Big,” said Bouma. “Had armor, too.”
“Alexia, can you please retrieve the video from Emanuel’s helmet,” Sophie asked.
The image of the creature emerged over the table. At first glance, it reminded Sophie of a triceratops, only the beaklike tusk attached to its face was nothing she had ever seen. The biology of the alien was odd, but the orbs attached to the monster’s belly made the image even more disturbing.
“What is that . . . thing?” Holly gasped.
“Fascinating,” Emanuel said, ignoring her question and narrowing his eyes to get a better look. “I imagine the beak is used to suck water out of victims.”
Overton shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s dead now.”
“It absolutely matters,” Sophie interjected. “The only way we will ever defeat the Organics is if we understand them.” Sophie wasn’t sure what to make of the alien. She wasn’t certain if it was one of the intelligent Organics, but her instinct said it was just another part of their expanding army.
Bouma changed the subject. “The orbs it was carrying. Any ideas what they were used for?”
Emanuel raised his hand. “I think I know.” He reached over the table and pointed at the creature, his finger slipping through the hologram. “What do vehicles use for fuel?” he asked.
“Electricity, biomass, hydrogen, diesel, or gasoline,” Holly answered.
“Precisely. This alien uses the orbs to fuel itself, just like a vehicle. We now know that the Spiders, Sentinels, and this thing use the orbs to sustain themselves. Given that they’re breeding, it makes more sense to me that they would be using the orbs as fuel. They have to find a way to feed their armies.”
“Steam Beast,” Bouma interrupted.
“What?” Emanuel asked. He scrunched his eyebrows together, prompting his glasses to slide down his nose.
Bouma repeated the words again. “Steam Beast. That’s what I think we should name it.”
“Why?” Emanuel asked.
“The thing looks like a freakin’ train, and it uses orbs as fuel.”
Kiel laughed and took a sip of his coffee.
“There’s nothing funny abou
t this,” Overton snapped, glaring at the young marine.
Sophie sighed and turned back to the image. “What do you think, Alexia?”
“I will log it into my database,” the AI replied.
“Okay then. So, we know the Organics use the orbs as fuel, but that isn’t their only source.”
Sophie took a moment to consider her next words. She didn’t want to think about the human farms. Of everything she had seen since the invasion, they were by far the most terrifying. Nothing compared, not even this newest alien. She couldn’t get the images of the limp humans sagging off those awful poles out of her head. The thought was enough to make her stomach lurch. She could only hope that they weren’t conscious as the water was sucked out of their bodies. The alternative was too horrifying to contemplate.
Emanuel stood and paced over to Sophie. He patted her shoulder before continuing where she had left off. “The human farms appear to be a secondary source of fuel. It’s fascinating, really, because—”
“Can we cut to the chase?” Kiel asked. “Tell us about that thing you used on the Spiders. How’d you knock them all out like that?”
Emanuel cleared his throat. “As you know, I’m calling the weapon an RVAMP. When I discovered their shields are powered by the surge, I realized that was also the key to defeating them. As we all know, without their shields, they quickly succumb to Earth’s atmospheric pressure and die. Designing the weapon was quite simple. I added a high-yield channel to the RVM device that we’ve been using to block their signals. Then I included two electronic conductors. When activated, both of the electrostatic discharges come into contact and the channel triangulates a pulse of energy that has the same effect on them that the surge had on our technology. It renders their shields useless and evens the playing field.”
Overton leaned back in his chair. “I’m impressed, Doctor. It worked pretty well out there in the field. How soon can you get it up and running again?”
“Don’t get too excited. We were lucky it worked as well as it did.”
“Can’t we just nuke the bastards?” Kiel replied.
The Orbs Omnibus Page 43
