He held his breath until he got to his door and with a smile he turned the handle and walked into his room. “Happy birthday!” he yelled, dropping his pack to the ground.
Jeff and David rushed over, nearly knocking him over with hugs.
“Hey guys!” Michael said, patting David’s mop of brown hair. The child looked up at him with a frown. “My tablet broke.”
“Sorry buddy,” Michael said. He looked for his wife and found her sitting on the couch in the darkness. “Honey, you got a kiss for me?”
She rose and slowly paced over to the three of them. With her hands on her hips she said, “Something weird is going on. I don’t like it, Michael. I don’t know if it’s safe to be here.”
Michael sighed and hugged the boys one more time before grabbing his pack and joining her in the living room. Placing a hand on her shoulder he caught her gaze and said, “You’re right, something is going on. The big dogs are here from NTC, and there’s a new ship in the hangar. But there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Can we see it?” David beamed.
“I don’t think so, bud, but I do have something else planned.”
David looked up at him. “I get to go shooting?”
Michael shot a glare at Jeff. The boy wasn’t supposed to tell his younger brother, but he wasn’t surprised that Jeff had. Even at thirty-five Michael could still remember how hard it was to keep a secret as a kid.
“Sorry,” Jeff shrugged.
Michael glanced over at Paula. “We don’t have much time if we want to do this today. So why don’t you boys go grab a snack from the fridge while I talk to your mom for a second.” He shooed the boys away and grabbed Paula’s hand.
“I’m sorry about getting redirected. I honestly have no idea what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will be okay.”
Paula pulled a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and nodded. “I missed you,” she said, leaning in for a kiss.
“Missed you too,” he said before their lips touched.
“Gross,” Jeff said from the kitchen.
Michael laughed. “Bud, why don’t you check my pack, there’s something in there for you.”
The boy smiled and rushed over to the living room, tearing into the present while David watched from the couch.
Slowly Jeff revealed the shiny metal of a hunting rifle. The weapon was half the boy’s size. A relic from the past that had been passed down through Michael’s family for several generations. It was, in Michael’s opinion, the best way to train a kid to shoot. The weapon had a kick, unlike the newly issued pulse rifles. Besides, Michael couldn’t afford to buy one of the new weapons for Jeff.
“Do I get to shoot it too?” David chirped.
“No!” “Maybe.” Paula and Michael replied simultaneously. They exchanged looks and then laughed.
“We better get going,” Michael said, planting a kiss on Paula’s cheek. “Grab my pack guys,” he said.
Michael felt Paula tighten her grip on his hand. He glanced over at her. Her features had changed. Her eyes were darker. Frightened.
“Promise me everything is going to be okay,” she said.
Michael felt Jeff nudge him with the backpack, and he reached down to grab it from the boy before answering. “I promise.”
But as Michael guided his kids into the hallway, he felt a sharp pain in his gut—the same sinking feeling he had right before the battle that cost him his leg.
CHAPTER 4
DR. Hoffman clenched his fist. It was rare for him to feel frustrated. He wasn’t an irritable man. But over the past few hours he felt himself losing control of his fate and that of the human race. As CEO of the most powerful company in the world he was almost always in control. Today was different. Today, his plans had gone astray. Today, he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it off the damned planet.
“Get the quantum propulsion engines ready,” he snarled.
“Sir, I told you weeks ago. They aren’t ready yet. We’ve only tested them twice,” Robert Bailey, his chief engineer, argued. The bald man stared back at Dr. Hoffman from behind an oval pair of glasses that accentuated his beady little eyes.
Hoffman scrunched his eyebrows together. “I’m going to be very clear right now, Robert. If you want a seat on Secundu Casu, then you are going to listen to everything I say. Got that?”
The middle-aged engineer nodded and stiffened.
“You are going to fire up the engines, do a very quick systems check, and then we are going to give our pilots the green light to get us the hell off this rock.”
“Yes, sir,” Robert replied before turning to sprint back down a metal ramp leading into the bowels of the ship.
Dr. Hoffman continued through Secundu Casu with Amy close on his heels. “Sir, more info is coming in from the East Coast. The air force, navy . . . everyone. They’re scrambling, sending out all aircraft, warships, and submarines in response.”
Hoffman stopped to overlook Biome 1, wondering what it would look like when the dirt had been overtaken by lush crops. The artificial gravitational drive better work, he thought, before turning to Amy.
“Sir?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
Dr. Hoffman recognized the mannerism. Amy’s nerves were getting worse. Rightfully so. Everyone was nervous. He was nervous. But nothing he could do or say would help the US military or any military prevent the inevitable. The Organics were coming and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.
Now, he was at peace with his decision to place biospheres across the world and leave some strategic NTC assets in place to monitor them. If he had informed the government years ago of the Organics’ imminent arrival, they would have wasted his time trying to find a way to fight back. There was no way to fight back. The magnetic technology Hoffman had researched years ago now seemed like nothing more than a futile attempt to piss the aliens off. He was an old man, and with his age he’d learned that poking a hornet’s nest was never a good idea. Especially when you didn’t know if you could win.
All they could do was run, hide, and hope the Organics wouldn’t chase what was left of the human race to Mars. Dr. Hoffman suspected they would be safe there. The Organics had already turned the planet into a desolate wasteland—he didn’t see any reason for them to go back.
* * *
The white glow of the sun guided Michael’s NTC pickup through the desert like a beacon. The lightly used trail was almost invisible after last week’s dust storm. Fortunately, he had the coordinates saved in his handheld GPS. Modern technology at its best.
The thought reminded him that he still had his NTC radio clipped to his belt. He glanced down nervously at it. Michael was still waiting for a message from Blair, telling him to hightail it back to the base, but until that message came, he was spending time with his boys. Chances were high that the extra security precautions were simply due to Dr. Hoffman’s visit.
Through the rearview mirror, he watched Jeff’s and David’s heads bobbing up and down as the truck traveled down the rough path. “How’s school going guys? Your mom says you’re both doing pretty well.”
Jeff looked out the back window. “Paula never stops bugging me about my homework. She’s annoying.”
Michael gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, sensing an argument brewing. Hopefully he could get them to the shooting range before one broke out. “That’s her job. She is your mom.”
“She’s not our mom,” Jeff replied quickly.
Nope, Michael mused, too late. An argument had already reared its ugly head.
“She is your mom, maybe not your biological mom, but she’s done a pretty good job, hasn’t she?” Michael asked.
“No,” Jeff replied.
Michael shook his head. A few hundred feet away he could see the makeshift shooting range. Perfect timing, he thought. Exhaling a long breath.
“We�
��re here,” he said, deciding against further argument. It was, after all, the kid’s birthday.
A gust of wind struck Michael in the face as soon as he opened the door. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the mixture of sweat and sand off his red cheeks. When his vision cleared, he scanned the dunes in the distance. The tips were shifting ever so slightly.
“Shit,” he mumbled. The wind was picking up. Not good for training a first-time rookie on a rifle with a kick.
Michael trekked through the sand to the back of his truck and reached for Jeff’s rifle. The stock felt firm in his hands, strong, even after all these years. His father had given him the gun along with the semiautomatic assault rifle. The assault rifle would be David’s when he was old enough, but today there was no way he was going to let the boy shoot it. The recoil was just too powerful.
He met the boys at the front of the truck and peered over at the crudely made range. A wood board was propped up with several bricks about two hundred yards away. Several empty soda cans had blown away, sprinkling the sand with litter. Michael had expected this would be the case and prepared by bringing his own sack of cans. The trick was going to be getting them to stay put in the wind.
“Let’s set up here,” Michael said, crouching to grab a plastic bag out of his backpack. “Jeff, you stay with David. I’ll be right back.”
Michael checked that the guns weren’t loaded and then propped the rifles against the side of the truck. Glancing one more time at the boys he said, “Don’t touch anything.” He watched them both nod and then ran across the sand, ignoring the numbness in his artificial leg. When he got to the board he began filling the cans with sand to weigh them down and placed a dozen on top.
Perfect.
Shielding his eyes from the wind he rushed back to the truck where Jeff was staring at his new rifle. “This thing is so cool!” the boy said.
Michael laughed. “I thought the same thing when I was your age.”
David chuckled. He sat cross-legged in the sand, scribbling the image of a spaceship into the dirt with a twig.
“Give it here,” Michael said, grabbing the rifle from Jeff. He reached in his backpack for a magazine and said, “Watch very carefully. The first thing I am going to teach you is safety.”
He jammed the mag into the bottom and heard it click. He flipped the gun over for them to see. Then pointing to the safety he said, “This is how you know if the gun is loaded and ready to fire. The gun can only fire when this is red. You should only handle a weapon when the safety is on unless you are ready to fire it.” Michael flipped the switch back and forth so they could see. Shouldering the weapon he looked downrange through the scope.
“Okay, now put your ear gear and glasses on. This gun is much louder than the ones you see in movies.”
Slipping a pair of earplugs in, Michael aimed the rifle downrange. Gripping the trigger with his index finger he lined the sight up with one of the cans. With a measured breath he steadied the rifle and pulled back on the trigger. The recoil wasn’t as bad as he remembered, and he was able to watch the top of the can disappear into the wind without falling off balance.
“The scope still works,” he laughed, pacing over to Jeff. “Okay, your turn, bud.” Michael flipped the safety back on and helped the boy shoulder the weapon. “Make sure it’s tight here, otherwise you’re going to get a nasty bruise. In fact, you might get one anyways, but that’s part of the fun. War wounds to show your buddies.”
Jeff nodded and looked down the sight.
“See the red crosshairs?”
Another short nod.
“Feel pretty comfortable?”
One more nod.
“Okay, last thing before you fire. Never ever point the gun at anyone. After you are finished firing, point the barrel at the ground. Got it?”
Jeff looked up from the scope and smiled. “Got it, Dad.”
Michael patted the boy on the back and retreated to the truck. David peered up from his doodling. The younger boy suddenly looked very curious.
They both watched the first three shots go wild, kicking sand into the air. David flinched at each shot and giggled, but Michael said, “That’s okay, Jeff. It takes awhile to get the hang of it. That’s a thirty-round clip. You have twenty-seven more shots to go!”
Another nod and Jeff squeezed the trigger. The next five shots disappeared into the sand, but the sixth blew a nice-sized hole in the board.
“There you go bud,” Michael said.
Jeff squeezed off a few more shots and finally found one of the cans. The bullet sent the can sailing into the distance.
“Yeah!” Jeff yelled.
“Cool,” David replied, still cupping his ears.
“Good work,” Michael said, stepping up behind Jeff. “David, you want to give it a try?”
Jeff looked up at his dad through his eyewear. “Paula would crap her pants!”
Michael smiled. “Paula’s not here. And if you boys promise not to tell her then—”
A massive explosion roared in the distance. The aftershock sent a tremor ripping through the ground. Bracing himself against the truck, Michael scanned the skyline for the noise. Miles away, where a few metal towers from the base peeked over the sand dunes, he could see a black ship shooting into the sky.
He watched the ship, confused. It wasn’t heading across the skyline toward another base or city. The ship was heading straight up. The ship was heading for space.
CHAPTER 5
HOW much time do we have?” Dr. Hoffman barked, his voice fading against the roar of the ship’s rockets. He tried shifting in his seat unsuccessfully, but the soft memory foam had already conformed to his body. He wasn’t going anywhere until the ship reached orbit.
A holograph shot out of the interface built into his seat and settled in front of him. Data scrolled across the display. One key number caught his attention.
Sixty thousand mph.
It was the approximate speed of the Organic fleet. Not very fast for a race capable of interstellar space travel, but this was an invasion, not a sightseeing trip across the galaxy.
The aliens would now be less than two hundred thousand miles from Earth.
The window for escape was closing by the minute.
Dr. Hoffman blinked as the information settled in. He scanned the tiny compartment that he would have to endure for the beginning stages of the flight. It was small, built for only four people. Amy sat to his right and her assistant, Tim, sat to her right. The other seat was empty. His chief science officer, Dr. Tsui, hadn’t made it out of Houston in time.
It was a shame really, considering the man had helped Dr. Hoffman with so much of his own research. There was nothing to be done now, however. The ship was finally off the ground, tearing through the atmosphere on its way into orbit.
A tremor rippled through the compartment as the ship climbed higher.
The image of the Organics’ fleet that Amy had shown him earlier crept into his mind, and he cursed under his breath. They should have jumped ship sooner. They should have left when they still had the chance.
“Ma’am, I’m picking up some chatter over the net,” Tim said. He pushed the headset against his ears as another vibration shook the compartment. “HQ just patched a message through from the Pentagon. The air force has every available bird in the sky.” Tim smiled and winked at Dr. Hoffman. “We’re ready to blow these alien bastards back to wherever the hell they came from.”
Dr. Hoffman closed his eyes. He almost laughed at the young man’s ignorance, but a wave of nausea struck him instead. He couldn’t blame Tim for being cocksure. Dr. Hoffman had purposely left most of his staff in the dark about the threat the Organics posed to the human race. If he shared everything he knew, civilization would have descended into chaos years ago. Only a select few could be trusted with the knowledge, and Dr. Tsui had be
en among the small circle.
“Any word on the Sun Spot?” Hoffman asked. “Have they launched?”
Tim grunted as a vibration roared through the compartment. “Last I heard, the ship was en route to Offutt Air Force Base near Omaha. The team is scrambling to get there.”
Hoffman winced. He had a feeling that this would happen. “They better get off the ground soon.”
Another violent quake shook the Secundu Casu. The entire ship groaned. Dr. Hoffman felt the memory foam readjust around his body, tightening as the vibrations grew. Gripping the harness around his chest, Hoffman prepared for the ship to enter the mesosphere. They had only tested the quantum propulsion engines a few times. He prayed that they would hold up. This was supposed to be the easy part. They weren’t even through the stratosphere yet.
The ship lurched forward, jolting his insides against his rib cage. Amy let out a soft cry as the force took hold of them.
“This should only last a few seconds!” Dr. Hoffman yelled.
“I sure hope so, sir,” replied Amy.
Dr. Hoffman closed his eyes and tried to relax his head. When he finally opened them again, the blue screen was relaying video from the ground. He watched a squadron of black X90 air force jets race across the desert toward some distant city. Dr. Hoffman began mentally calculating how long it would take until every single jet in the world would become a burning hunk of scrap metal.
* * *
There’s no way in hell that’s a test flight, Michael thought. He grabbed the rifle from Jeff and motioned the boys toward the truck with his chin. “Get in, guys. We’re leaving.”
“But we just got here!” Jeff protested, kicking the sand with his tennis shoe.
“Yeah! I want to shoot too,” David added.
Michael didn’t reply, he opened the driver-side door and threw his backpack onto the seat. The boys stood at the front of the truck staring downrange.
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