The Orbs Omnibus
Author: Nicholas Sansbury Smith
Date: 2015-09-01 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Science Fiction; Alien Contact; Action & Adventure; Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic
Description: A thrilling collection of the entire bestselling Orbs series from Nicholas Sansbury Smith about the last survivors of an alien invasion—includes, Orbs: A Science Fiction Thriller , Orbs II: Stranded , Orbs III: Redemption , White Sands: An Orbs Prequel , and Red Sands: An Orbs Prequel. While training for a manned mission to Mars, Dr. Sophie Winston and her team of scientists find themselves cut off from the rest of the world. Trapped inside a biosphere deep within the confines of Cheyenne Mountain, Sophie and crew discover they are the survivors of a brutal alien invasion. But as they struggle
Publisher: Simon and Schuster

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Table of Contents

A Note from Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Orbs

Orbs II: Stranded

Orbs III: Redemption

White Sands

Red Sands

About the Author

Author Q&A

Author’s Note

First, thank you. Getting the Orbs series from idea to reality has been a long road, and I couldn’t have done it without my readers. Seeing Orbs on the Amazon bestseller lists after I self-published the novel back in 2013 was a dream come true. Now, nearly two years later, I’m pleased to share all three books with you.

Please note that since 2013, Orbs and Orbs 2 have gone through extensive reediting. The version you are about to read is much different, and thanks to my friends at Simon451, the stories are much better than the story I first published.

To old fans and new, I sincerely hope that you enjoy each book. I’m eternally grateful for all your support and encouragement over the past two years. The Orbs series would not be what it is without the readers.

Enjoy, and beware when you hear a scratch, scrape at night.

Best wishes,

Nicholas Sansbury Smith

For those in the armed services, and everyone else who puts their life on the line for freedom. Thanks for keeping us safe.

If aliens ever visit us, I think the outcome would be much as when Christopher Columbus first landed in America, which didn’t turn out very well for the Native Americans.

—STEPHEN HAWKING

CHAPTER 1

YEAR: 2061

LOCATION: SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE COLORADO WASTELANDS

SOPHIE awoke to the thrumming of helicopter blades. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she craned her neck to stare out the oval window. As the drowsiness faded and her vision cleared, she fixated on the weathered dunes below, her eyes glued to the infinite monotony of the sand. If the landscape hadn’t been a light shade of brown, she would have thought they were flying over the ocean.

“How far out are we?” she yelled over the sound of the thumping blades.

“We’re still at least an hour from the site. You should go back to sleep, ma’am; the scenery isn’t going to change for a while,” the pilot said without taking his eyes off the controls.

Sophie had no idea where the site was, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask. She pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail before reaching to adjust her headset. There was no way she was going to fall back asleep with the increased turbulence and the vibration from the chopper’s blades.

Settling back into her seat, she focused on the view. Below, the dunes extended as far as she could see, the crimson horizon slicing the panorama in half. She squinted for a better look, imagining she was peering through the thick glass of a visor at the harsh landscape of Mars. The fantasy was one she had daily. It was mystifyingly realistic, so vivid she would sometimes reach out as if she could touch the sand of the red planet.

Sophie blinked and returned to reality. She was still on Earth, where more than 15 percent of the surface had been baked by the solar storms of 2055. Areas affected were rendered uninhabitable due to the radiation. Scientists had argued for years that a solar storm wasn’t capable of that level of destruction; that a coronal mass ejection would never break through the Earth’s atmosphere. But something about the storms of 2055 had been different—unnatural. Now the planet was dying, and there was nothing science could do to stop it.

Not that it hadn’t been tried. For decades China had been leading the world on a quest to strip the Earth of precious metals. After international talks failed, the world’s leading private science and security company, New Tech Corporation, took matters into its own hands. It secretly hired mercenaries to set off five electromagnetic pulse weapons (EMPs) in strategic locations across the country. It solved China’s thirst for resources instantly, by sending the country back to the Stone Age.

Unfortunately, the EMPs had only stalled the inevitable. The Doomsday Clock was still ticking, and humanity’s time on Earth was limited. So a group of leaders had gathered in a closed-door meeting, as they had always done, deciding for the masses that it was time to jump ship. Humans were officially heading into space, and leading the mission was none other than New Tech Corporation.

Sophie could have lied and told her team she was surprised they had been picked for the first stage of the experimental mission, but none of them would have believed her. This wasn’t the first job NTC had hired them for. Two years ago they’d been sealed into an underwater biosphere off the coast of Puerto Rico for just over a month. The data they collected was used by the tech and science giant to design manned underwater probes that would be used on the mission to Europa.

They were the best private sector team in the world; six months in a biosphere deep within some mountain wouldn’t be a problem. But she couldn’t deny the fact that they would be rusty. They hadn’t worked together since Puerto Rico. After the success of the mission, everyone under her command had received offers from tech companies around the world, and had quickly found work elsewhere.

Sophie exhaled her concerns with a long breath. She would see her team soon enough, and it would probably take only a few days to get readjusted.

Suddenly the com blared to life, the static echoing through her headset. Sophie clutched the armrests of her seat, her nails scratching the cold metal.

“Halo 1, this is Black Echo, stand by for report. Over.”

“Black Echo, this is Halo 1, standby to copy. Over.”

“Roger, Halo 1, reports of a massive dust storm heading your way. Over.”

“Copy that.”

Sophie watched the pilot, trying to control her labored breathing. She hated flying, especially by chopper. With the constant weather fluctuation in the Wastelands, there was no such thing as a safe trip. Dust storms could form with little to no warning, and had caused multiple crashes. Often the crews of downed flights were never found, more than likely buried by the very sand and dirt that had sealed their fate.

She didn’t want to end up like those other crews. Not now. She’d worked too hard to let a dust storm stand in the way of her destiny. She had a mission to complete.

Shocked into motion, she unclipped her safety belt and ducked into the cockpit, plunking herself down in the empty copilot’s seat.

“What are you doing, ma’am?”

“You’re going to need a copilot if you want to avoid this storm. And seeing as I’m the only other person on this chopper, I believe that makes me copilot by default.”

The pilot paused, his thick goggles emitting a fiery red glow. Rather than argue with her, he asked, “Do you know how to read radar?”

Sophie bit her lip and studied the controls. “I’ll figure it out, Captain,” she said confidently.

The pilot returned her smile with a sly grin. “Whatever you say, ma’am. Just keep an eye on that screen,” he said, pointing at a translucent holographic image of the landscape. “You see that blip in the corner that’s heading right at us?” She scanned the image and then nodded. “That’s the dust storm, and by the looks of it, a big one. If we even come close to it, we’re worm food. You may want to buckle in,” the pilot said, eyeing her unclipped belt.

Sophie grabbed the harness and shot the man a quick glance. “I need to get to this site, Captain. Crashing isn’t an option. Consider that an order.” She knew she wasn’t in any position to be barking orders at an NTC soldier, but she figured her assertiveness might motivate him to fly a little faster, and perhaps a little safer. She watched the pilot’s grin fade as he spoke into his com.

“Black Echo, this is Halo 1. Stand by for report. Over.”

Static crackled over the radio. The pilot cursed under his breath before raising the transmitter to his mouth again. Sophie watched the curl of his lip as he spoke. “Black Echo, this is Halo 1. Come in. Over.”

Nothing but the hiss of white noise followed. He slammed the transmitter back onto the dashboard. “Looks like the storm already knocked out radio transmissions. We’re on our own.”

“Then you’d best keep focused, Captain,” Sophie replied.

She turned to watch the red blip of the dust storm on the screen. With a flick of her index finger, she enlarged it and mentally computed its distance.

“Look,” the pilot said suddenly.

Through the armored glass she could see a brown cloud swirling on the horizon, the storm slowly swallowing the crimson sunset. The sight was chilling.

The pilot glanced over at her. “Hope your belt’s tight, ma’am.”

Sophie didn’t bother lifting her gaze from the storm. “Just get us to the site in one piece. A lot of people are counting on my safe arrival.”

The pilot grinned again, his lips twitching slightly as if he wanted to respond, but his fiery red goggles rotated and focused on the storm. He gripped the cyclic tightly in his hands, shaking with the effort to keep it steady.

“Can you go above the storm?” Sophie asked anxiously.

“Negative, ma’am. Our only chance is to go around it, but by the look of it we won’t be able to.”

“Well, there has to be something we can do. Why not turn around?” she yelled over the increasing sound of turbulence.

The pilot momentarily took his eyes off the incoming storm. “Ma’am, that storm is barreling down on us at over three hundred and fifty miles per hour. Even if we tried, we wouldn’t be able to outrun it. Our best shot now is to head right through and try to ride it out.”

Sophie stared ahead, watching the swirling brown particles racing toward them. She blinked as the first pieces of dirt and dust crashed into the armored windshield.

I didn’t come all this way to die in a damned dust storm, she thought, grabbing her belt and tightening it across her chest.

Before she could think anything more, the storm was on them, the wind hurling particles of dust and dirt at the chopper from all directions. The pinging of rocks and debris making contact echoed throughout the interior of their metal tomb. The blades above groaned in protest as the rotor reluctantly ground them through the harsh wind.

“Hold on,” the pilot yelled, pulling up on the cyclic and heaving the chopper deeper into the center of the storm.

Sophie cried out as a rock the size of a baseball bashed the windshield, the crack spreading like a spider web.

“It’ll hold,” the pilot said unconvincingly. “The windshield was built to withstand a fifty-cal round at point-blank range.”

“Those engineers better have been right.”

Sophie didn’t trust many engineers, especially those who made their living testing products designed for war. She knew better than anyone that there was a major difference between how products held up under laboratory conditions and how they performed in real life. Companies like NTC had been making billions every year designing faulty products. It was simple economics, a concept she had learned at a young age. Weak products had to be replaced, which increased revenue. Quality was a thing of the past, and warranties had become extinct.

Sophie eyed the crack, hoping the windshield wasn’t another one of NTC’s money-saving ventures. She didn’t like gambling, especially with lives.

“How much farther?” Sophie yelled.

“You tell me—check the radar!” the pilot yelled back.

Before she had time to look at the radar, she saw an object through the glass. Squinting, she tried to discern what it was. “What the . . . ,” she muttered under her breath. The object swirled through the storm, moving toward them faster and faster.

“Watch out!”

Sophie was flung to one side, her insides scrambling against her rib cage, as the pilot yanked the cyclic hard to the right. It was too late. A second later, the spinning piece of debris smashed into the windshield, covering it. The pilot cursed in Spanish. Sophie understood every word.

“Get it off the windshield!” Sophie screamed.

“This isn’t a car. It doesn’t have wiper blades.”

The pilot loosened his goggles, pulling them over his helmet to get a better look at the metal object stuck to the windshield, and Sophie saw his face for the first time. His eyes were crystal blue, unlike any she had ever seen before. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old.

They sent me out here with a rookie?

“It looks like a road sign,” he yelled, pulling his goggles back over his eyes.

She squinted at the green piece of metal, desperately trying to make out the weathered white letters. “D-E-N-V-E . . .” Sophie hesitated. Could it really be?

“Denver,” she shouted over the noise. “It fucking says ‘Denver.’ ”

The pilot chuckled. “My girlfriend grew up there. Before the solar storms scorched it.”

“I don’t find this situation particularly humorous, Captain. Now let’s figure out how to get the—” The chopper shook violently before Sophie could finish her sentence, as more debris crashed into the metal exterior.

“Hold on, I have an idea!” Slowly, the pilot pulled the cyclic up and then rammed it toward the floorboards. The sign slid off the windshield with a whoosh, and became metal confetti seconds later as the chopper’s titanium rotor blades tore it apart.

Sophie didn’t have time to celebrate. Another barrage of debris tore into the exoskeleton of the chopper, melon-sized dents forming on the inside of the door.

The pilot tried to straighten the bird out, holding the controls so tightly his knuckles looked as if they were going to explode. “She can’t take much more of this. Check the radar again!” he yelled.

In the center of the console, the radar was fading in and out, the blur of red disappearing in a wave of static. “The storm must be disrupting the transmission,” Sophie guessed.

A deafening groan interrupted her as the blades above struggled through the cloud of dust. Every inch of their metal cage creaked and moaned. They were in the thickest, most violent part of the storm now.

Two more baseball-sized rocks smashed into the windshield, cracks exploding in all directions.

“Just a little farther, baby,” the pilot pleaded.

Sophie continued to monitor the cracks, mentally willing them not to get any larger. But her pleas went unanswered as another small rock hit the windshield. She held her breath, listening to the sound of her fate as the windshield slowly split, inch by inch. Even over the roar of the storm, she could hear the acrylic glass splintering. It was an odd sensation, knowing a thin piece of glass molded on some NTC assembly line was all that remained between her and the storm. She could almost picture her skin peeling off her bones as the windshield gave way and brown dust swallowed the chopper.

“The radar,” the pilot shouted, shocking Sophie out of her trance.

The hologram was working again, the red bleep representing the storm crawling across the translucent image. “It looks like we’re almost through it!” she exclaimed, maneuvering to the edge of her seat for a better look.

“Thank God. We aren’t going to last much longer,” the pilot said. His red goggles dipped toward the control panel where he studied the pressure gauges. “We’re losing hydraulic pressure by the second.”

Sophie remained glued to the radar. The chopper appeared to be on the eastern edge of the storm, a mere fingernail’s length from safety.

The groaning of the blades drew Sophie’s attention back to the windshield. The brown dust was slowly dissipating. In the distance, she thought she could even see a hint of night sky, but it was difficult to judge; the dark colors seemed to swirl together.

“Halo 1, this is Black Echo, do you copy? Over.”

A welcoming grin spread across the pilot’s face as he reached for the transmitter. “Back in business! Black Echo, Halo 1 here. Over.”

“Roger. Good to hear your voice, Halo 1. Thought we’d lost you in the storm. Over.”

Sophie ignored the chatter, watching the winds slowly calm.

“Black Echo, that makes two of us. Preparing for landing. Over.”

“Roger, Halo 1, we’ll leave a pot of coffee on the burner for you. Over.”

Silence once again filled the cockpit, the sound of the storm finally gone. Sophie slumped in her seat, her fingers still gripping the metal armrests. Relief flooded over her body like a cold shower after a long run. In the days after the solar storms, when she’d risen out of the shelter with the rest of her team only to find smoke crawling across the horizon, the flames from cities all across the United States licking the sky, she’d felt something similar. It was a feeling she would never forget. And it was on her skin again.

It was odd that she could be preparing for death one second, and then staring at a night sky full of stars the next. In many ways it was what made her appreciate science even more. It was a way for her to control her destiny, from an experiment in her lab to an article on quantum physics.

She knew what some people would say: “God saved them in the storm. God wanted her to live so she could save humanity.” But it was all bullshit to her. They hadn’t survived because of divine intervention; they had survived through a combination of luck and teamwork.

Sophie smiled. “Nice flying back there, Captain. How long till we get this thing on the ground?”

“Thank you, ma’am. Worst storm I’ve ever flown through. Didn’t think I was going to make it home there for a second,” he said, checking the control panel again. “Should be on the ground in fifteen minutes.”

With a simple nod, Sophie turned to watch the night sky, the cracks in the windshield now nothing more than an afterthought. It was a beautiful view—a view like the one she hoped she’d be seeing on Mars soon.

CHAPTER 2

THE grinding sound of the metal door made Sophie cringe. She tapped her foot and watched artificial light from outside creep in as two NTC soldiers pried the broken chopper door open with a crowbar.

Finally the twisted metal gave way, and the door slid open. Sophie jumped out of the chopper’s belly, ignoring the hand of one of the soldiers. She didn’t have time for formalities. The tarmac was full of other helicopters and planes, which meant her team had already arrived. She was wasting time.

Stepping onto solid ground prompted a rush of blood to her brain, which already ached from the flight. She could feel it pulsating inside her skull.

Deep breath. Ignore the pain. You have business to attend to.

Sophie shook her head, rubbing the trauma from her eyes. Through the darkness she could vaguely make out a set of glowing orange goggles approaching her. The color indicated a senior NTC staffer, more than likely her escort. She stiffened, anxious to get the introductions over with so she could get to her team, but the man walked right by her.

“God damn, Captain,” the man barked at her pilot. “You just ruined a multimillion dollar aircraft. How does it feel?”

“Sir . . . I’m sorry, but the storm.”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. Turn around and look at your bird.”

The pilot nervously surveyed his chopper. The windshield was shattered in several places, and a rock was still lodged in one of the cracks. That wasn’t even the worst of it. The body of the chopper was peppered with dents. Not even the best body shop worker the NTC had on payroll could salvage it. The chopper needed to be stripped, its metal skin and windshield completely replaced.

“I asked you how it feels, Captain.”

The pilot looked at his feet. “Sir, I’m sorry, but—”

The senior staffer interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “But you are being demoted, effective immediately.”

“Wait just a second!” Sophie stepped forward, her nostrils flaring. “Sir, this man saved me. If it weren’t for him, this chopper would be buried in the Wastelands and you would be wasting fuel and resources trying to find it.”

The senior staffer turned to face her. “Ah, you must be Dr. Winston,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you—”

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t have time for this. I need to see my team immediately.”

“Your team can wait. Let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Hoffman, and I’m the entire reason you are here. I chose you. Did I choose wrong, Dr. Winston?”

Sophie hesitated. How could she not have recognized him? The CEO of NTC was one of the most powerful men on Earth—and on Mars, if their experiment succeeded. Her hand shook as she offered it to him. “Dr. Hoffman, sir, my apologies. I just wanted to voice my gratitude for this young man’s actions. He saved my life.”

A smile curled across Dr. Hoffman’s face. He took her hand, shaking it with a powerful grip. He cocked his head and nodded at the pilot, who cowered next to the chopper with the other two NTC soldiers. “You should thank Dr. Winston here. If it were up to me you’d never fly again.”

The pilot moved hesitantly, backing away and heading toward the massive concrete facility built into the mountainside at the edge of the tarmac. “Thank you, Dr. Winston!” he said once he’d reached a safe distance.

Dr. Hoffman turned to Sophie, his smile still glued on his face. She studied him. He was in his seventies, and his age showed. Even in the mild darkness, the creases on his face were visible, deep valleys above his glowing goggles. A cropped mustache lined his thin lips, and his smile revealed weathered teeth, stained by years of coffee drinking.

“Shall we, Dr. Winston?” he said, gesturing toward the building. “I know you are anxious to meet your team.”

“Yes, Dr. Hoffman. Please lead the way.”

Sophie followed her escort toward the building, her hand still noticeably shaking from their conversation. She could count the men who intimidated her on one hand, but Dr. Hoffman topped the list.

Up ahead, two monstrous blast doors screeched open. The entrance was carved out of the side of a mountain. Above the two doors was a single weathered sign that read, “Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain.”

“NORAD,” she muttered under her breath. She should have known. The ancient military facility was the perfect place for a biosphere. It had been used as the military’s aerospace defense command center in the early twenty-first century before it was decommissioned and fell into disrepair. She had been here once on a tour as a child, long before the solar storms scorched Denver. In the distance she could see the lights of Colorado Springs, which had barely avoided the radiation.

Dr. Hoffman shouted from the entrance. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, sir, just admiring the view.”

“I thought you were in a rush.”

“I am. It’s just this place brings back memories.”

“Ah, well be prepared for some . . .” He paused. “Changes,” he said with the same sly grin.

Sophie faked a smile and followed him inside the dark access tunnel, listening to the groaning of the blast doors closing behind them. The doors crashed shut, sealing them inside the mountain. Someone flipped a switch, and the hangar glowed to life, the lights clicking on one after another.

This was a different entrance than the one she visited. It was wide enough for a semi-trailer and built exclusively for the military, not for touring school kids. The bright overhead lights illuminated a small electric train that sat idle in the middle of the access tunnel like a carnival ride waiting for patrons.

“This way,” one of the soldiers said, opening the door to the train. Sophie followed Dr. Hoffman inside and took a seat on a metal bench.

“This train will take us to the most advanced biosphere ever designed by man. NTC has sunk a pretty penny into this facility. I trust you will find it acceptable for your research.”

“I’m anxious to start my work in the environment,” Sophie said, massaging her tender muscles. She crossed her legs and rested her back against the cold metal of the bench. Her neck was sore from where the chopper’s belt had cut into her flesh. She rubbed it, acknowledging that the aches were better than the alternative of perishing in a fiery wreck.

Dr. Hoffman pulled off his goggles and tucked them inside his jacket. For the first time, his eyes met hers. They were obsidian, much darker than Sophie had imagined. She recalled hearing about them in the past, when several of her team had been invited to a board meeting with NTC leadership.

“The data your team will collect is very important, Dr. Winston. I hope you realize what you have been hired to do.” He scrunched his eyebrows together, peering deeper into her eyes. It was too much; she looked away.

“I’m fully aware of my assignment. Just remember your part of the bargain.”

“I don’t gamble when it comes to the end of the world, Dr. Winston. You and your team will have seats on the first flight to Mars. You have my word.”

His reassurance helped her relax, and she settled back into her seat, clasping her hands together and staring out the train window. The concrete walls of the tunnels raced by, illuminated by the white glow of the halogen lights. Eventually, the train slowed to a halt. The two NTC soldiers rose from their seats and stepped out into the tunnel. Dr. Hoffmann followed, once again covering his black eyes with his goggles.

“This way, Doctor,” he said, leading her back into the access lane. “The Biosphere is located in the main chamber. The space has been completely retrofitted and sealed from the outside. A state-of-the-art air filtration system has been added, and the facility is equipped with an artificial intelligence named Alexia—you will meet her shortly. She controls the temperature, humidity, and all the other settings the Biosphere needs to operate properly. In case of a medical emergency, she will also double as a doctor.”

“Our engineer, Saafi Yool, is more than capable of regulating the settings,” Sophie said. “And among the rest of my staff, I’m sure we can handle any medical emergencies.”

Dr. Hoffman stopped in front of the open blast door, staring into the chamber. “Consider Alexia part of your team—a safeguard, if you will. Do I need to remind you how important this mission is, Dr. Winston? The future of humanity depends on your results. It’s the reason I have taken time from my very busy schedule to be here for the beginning of this project. I don’t like to waste my time. Am I wasting my time?” One of his eyebrows formed an arch over his goggles.

Sophie took a deep breath. “No,” she said. “As we already discussed, I’m well aware of the significance of this mission. I do not, however, trust any AI, especially one I haven’t worked with before.”

Dr. Hoffman turned. “Dr. Winston, this isn’t open for negotiation. Alexia is part of your team now. Accept it, or we will find someone else.” His tone was firm, and Sophie realized this wasn’t something she could argue.

“Okay then. Alexia is part of my team,” she lied. She was anxious for a shower, a hot cup of coffee, and the familiar faces of her team. Even if that team now included an unfamiliar hologram.

The smell of cheap coffee hovered in the room. Biologist Emanuel Rodriguez brought a steaming mug to his lips, and took a sip. His brown eyes studied the three senior NTC staffers huddled around the table in the front of the briefing room.

At the head of the table was Dr. Hoffman. To his right was Amy Carlson, a tall and beautiful redhead with a face peppered by freckles. In her five years at NTC, she had risen from being an assistant to become Vice President of Science. Her rise to power was often attributed to her looks, but Emanuel knew that behind her pretty face was a keen mind.

To Dr. Hoffman’s left was NTC’s vice president of security, Sean Edwards. Edwards was a sixty-year-old retired British special operations veteran who had been Dr. Hoffman’s right-hand man for several years. The left side of his face was normal for a man his age—wrinkled and a pasty white. The right side, however, was grotesque. His eye was sunk into his skull, the victim of shrapnel from a grenade that should have killed him. The skin was weathered and scarred from the burns that had consumed his face after the explosion went off. Even without the scars, he would have been frightening, but his appearance wasn’t the only thing that intimidated his opponents. Rumors of his brutality were widespread, even outside the company.

Emanuel brought the cup back to his lips and took another sip, cringing at the bitter taste. His eyes flicked from the table to the corner of the room, where two NTC soldiers stood, their rifles strung over their shoulders and their red goggles emitting the familiar glow of the world’s most powerful security and science firm. Their eyes may have been hidden, but their stoic faces radiated intimidation.

He wasn’t sure why Dr. Hoffman had elected to show off the company’s muscle. After all, the room was packed with Dr. Winston’s team and the support staff who would be monitoring them from a facility in Colorado Springs. And once the Biosphere doors closed, the only thing that could open them was Alexia. No one, not even Dr. Hoffman, would be able to persuade her to open the doors early. It was a safeguard programmed to protect the Biosphere mission at all costs. The rules were clear—no communication with the outside unless absolutely necessary.

Dr. Hoffman began the presentation, pacing to the center of the room, where he scanned the crowd imperiously.

“For the sake of everyone else in the room, I’m going to start with a brief introduction of the Biosphere team. We should all know who we’ll be watching.” Dr. Hoffman smirked. “In the front row we have Dr. Holly Brown,” he said, turning to the petite blonde, who smiled brightly and waved. “First in her class at Johns Hopkins with a doctorate in psychology. Dr. Brown, you’ll be in charge of monitoring your team’s mental and emotional health.” He paused and scanned the crowd. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Roberts,” he said, pointing next at the young, curly haired programmer. “Timothy Roberts, the infamous ex-hacker. Recruited by MIT at seventeen, kicked out at nineteen, and recruited by the federal government at twenty. Isn’t that correct? I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

The programmer rolled his eyes but managed a nod. Dr. Hoffman quickly paced over to the next team member.

“Next we have Saafi Yool, the team’s engineer. Mr. Yool was the recipient of a Fulbright scholarship and graduated from Stanford University with a degree in engineering. I understand you are a refugee from Somalia,” Dr Hoffman said, looking down at the slender man whose long legs sprawled all the way underneath the chair in front of him.

“That is correct, Dr. Hoffman,” he said with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Yool,” he said, moving on to Emanuel. “Here we have Dr. Emanuel Rodriguez. As the team’s biologist, you may be the most important member,” he said with a quick wink.

Emanuel took another sip of coffee and continued to stare forward, unmoved by Dr. Hoffman’s antics.

“And last, but certainly not least, is the team lead, Dr. Sophie Winston. Graduated from Princeton with a PhD in particle physics, and now one of the world’s leading experts in solar weather. I am told that if it weren’t for her work during the 2055 solar storms, the results would have been much more severe.”

“I’m not sure about that—” Sophie began to object before Dr. Hoffman cut her off.

“Thank you for being here, Dr. Winston,” he said, locking eyes with her for several seconds before moving back to the center of the room.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” Sophie replied, trying to conceal any disdain in her voice.

“With the formalities out of the way, I’ll cut right to the chase. Those of you who know me already know I am not big on small talk. We are all here to achieve the same goal—to test the Biosphere for future space flight. This mission is one of the most important in human history, and I thank you for being part of it. With that said, there are several rules you all need to know before you are sealed in tomorrow morning. Projector, Alexia.”

The lights dimmed, and a holographic image appeared over the console in front of Dr. Hoffman. Several circular shapes floated in the air. Studying them briefly, he plucked one of the spinning circles out of the group and said, “This is the Biosphere.” He enlarged it with a swipe of his index finger, and the layers of the rest of the facility faded.

“As you can see, the Biosphere consists of four individual biomes that operate with the most advanced technology NTC has to offer,” he said. “Dr. Winston will be in command of the facility, and each biome will be assigned a team leader. This is Biome 1.” He held out the individual sphere and let it hover above his hand. “One could argue it is the most important. It’s where you will be growing your food and testing the habitat. There are more than one hundred different plant species that will eventually be introduced to the environment. Why so many, you ask? Good question. Traditionally we used a smaller number, but in case of habitat failure or bug infestations, we want to ensure the survival of several species. The seeds are all genetically altered hybrids, hand-selected by our best botanists, and designed to grow in the harshest of conditions, so rest assured—they will be resilient in any situation short of a nuclear meltdown.” He paused to look at Emanuel, who watched the presentation with interest.

“Dr. Rodriguez, you are the team lead for Biome 1. I trust you will find the setup to be satisfactory.”

Emanuel acknowledged the statement with a nod, but Dr. Hoffman had already refocused on the glowing cluster of images. He flicked the sphere and it rejoined the group, the layers of the facility once again sharpening. He hesitated with a finger to his lip and studied the other circles before plucking another one from the cluster. “Biome 2 is the pond. Traditionally, other Biosphere projects included an alternative source of water, packed with a variety of species of fish. We debated designing one with an ocean and coral reef, which has been done in the past. However, our engineers decided to keep it simple. Biome 2 is exactly that. It is your water source—nothing more, nothing less. Remember, the end goal is to have a fully functioning facility producing food and resources by the time the ship lands on the Red Planet. This will be a modern-day Noah’s Ark, if you will.” With a raised brow he caught Emanuel’s gaze. “You will be the lead for this Biome as well, Doctor.”

Another quick flick of his index finger, and Biome 2 disappeared back into the cluster. He reached for the third sphere, checking his wristwatch.

“I have a quick question,” Saafi said, his voice just loud enough to be heard at the front of the room.

Dr. Hoffman suddenly looked very stern, as if annoyed by the interruption. “Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m having a hard time understanding how the pond biome will operate in space, on whatever ship NTC decides to take to Mars.”

With a smile, Dr. Hoffman plucked the third biome from among the others. “That’s because the artificial gravity device NTC has been designing is still confidential. But rest assured, Mr. Yool, the gravity on whatever ship we decide to take to Mars will be almost identical to what you experience here.”

Emanuel glanced over at Saafi to see a wide grin on the man’s face. Everyone on the team had heard the rumors of the artificial gravity experiments NTC was conducting, but none of them knew it was so close to designing a functional device.

Dr. Hoffman stepped away from the third sphere. “Since we are rushed for time, I won’t spend long on the livestock biome.” He stopped to point out several horizontal lines cutting through the image. “As you can see, the chamber is divided into subsections. These lines represent electric walls that separate the animals from one another. Dr. Rodriguez will be in charge of this biome.”

Dr. Hoffman flicked the sphere away and retrieved the last circle. “This is Biome 4, the largest area in the Biosphere in terms of square footage. It is broken down into several unique spaces to meet the team’s individual needs. There’s a state-of-the-art medical ward, a kitchen and mess hall, a command center, and barracks with bathrooms. We have gone to great lengths to make sure these conditions are as comfortable as possible. Inside the barracks, you will find private quarters. Obviously every biome will be closely monitored. Dr. Brown will be in charge of the medical ward, while Mr. Roberts and Mr. Yool maintain the command center.”

He paused to look at the young programmer. “Am I boring you, Timothy?” Dr. Hoffman bellowed.

Timothy yawned and then quickly shook his head. “Nah, it’s this coffee. Not strong enough,” he said, shaking the cup of black liquid with a scowl.

“Well, if you’re done daydreaming, maybe you would like to join the rest of the group for this very important presentation.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Timothy said, taking another sip.

“Obviously, we will be monitoring you throughout the experiment.” Dr. Hoffman continued, waving a hand at one of the four cameras in the briefing room. “There are cameras stationed throughout each of the biomes, and Alexia has been programmed to monitor your vitals twenty-four hours a day.”

Emanuel could almost smell Big Brother over the cheap coffee. NTC hadn’t become the most powerful security and technology company overnight without controversy. It had risen to the top by destroying the competition. Rumors of sabotage and murder were discussed in hushed voices in the halls of the United Nations, but there were never any investigations or inquiries. NTC had truly become invulnerable to international law.

“Any questions?” Dr. Hoffman asked.

Emanuel watched Sophie stand in the front row. He compressed his eyebrows and concentrated, becoming slightly agitated as he watched her lips form a smirk. He could only see her from the side, but there was no hiding it. He knew what came next—her lips would curl back and she would spout out something that would more than likely get her in trouble. She had one of the most brilliant minds on the planet, but one very dangerous flaw often got in the way of reason—her venomous tongue.

“Dr. Hoffman, I have a question.”

“Yes, Dr. Winston?”

Sophie reached down and pulled out a binder from the duffel bag she had tucked neatly under her seat. Quickly, she flipped through the pages, licking her fingers and pulling them back one by one. “Ah, here’s the clause,” she said, putting on her glasses with her free hand.

“Section 10.12: In the event of contamination, the artificial intelligence assigned to the mission will take control of the facility.” She paused to take a breath before continuing. “If the Biosphere is rendered contaminated by toxic substances, then the facility will be cleansed accordingly.” Sophie set the binder down on the chair.

“What exactly does ‘cleansed accordingly’ mean?”

“Would you mind if I answered that?” Carlson asked, stepping up next to Dr. Hoffman.

“Not at all, Miss Carlson. Go right ahead,” he said politely.

“Dr. Winston, I’m sure you are aware there are always threats of contamination. In fact, our last mission, which is still classified, failed for that very reason. Fortunately, we were able to isolate the team before the toxic contaminants took over the Biosphere ecosystem, but the mission was a complete loss.”

Carlson brushed a strawberry-red strand of hair behind her left ear. “In space, we won’t have the luxuries we have here. If a toxin is identified, then the facility will cordon off the infected chamber and losses will be minimized by a complete cleansing. Anyone unfortunate enough to be within the infected zone will receive a lethal dose of the proper chemicals needed to destroy the toxin. We simply can’t risk losing data.”

“In other words, we’re all risking our lives,” Sophie snarled.

Emanuel quickly stood, recognizing the flush in Sophie’s cheeks as a sign she was about to blow a gasket. “We’re risking our lives for the sake of the planet,” he chimed in.

Sophie turned and locked eyes with him for a second before the red in her cheeks began to fade.

Dr. Hoffman walked toward the audience and crossed his arms, nodding at Emanuel. “Thank you, Dr. Rodriguez, for that pertinent observation. You and your team are risking your lives for the future of humanity. The data this project seeks to obtain could very well save the human race. If a toxin is identified, it will be cleansed, and Alexia will attempt to protect the mission’s data.”

“Are there any more questions?” Carlson asked.

Seeing none, Dr. Hoffman said, “You are dismissed. Get some rest. You enter the Biosphere at 0600 hours.”

Emanuel headed for the door but stopped, opting to wait for Sophie and the rest of the team. He watched the two soldiers exit the room, Dr. Hoffman and his staff following closely behind. Once the NTC crew had left, he joined his colleagues in the corner.

“Let’s chat,” Sophie said, motioning them over to a metal table. “It’s good to see all of you,” she said, scanning the faces of her team. Stepping behind the table, she offered her hand to the team’s psychologist, Dr. Holly Brown, first. “How have you been?”

The petite doctor reached out with a pleasant smile. “I’m good, and excited to get started!”

“That makes two of us,” she said. “Timothy, how are you?”

When he didn’t look up from his tablet, she repeated the question, trying to catch the man’s gaze.

“I guess I’m okay,” Timothy finally replied, giving her hand a loose shake. Sophie didn’t waste time engaging him in any small talk. Instead, she smiled and acknowledged Saafi with a nod. He loomed awkwardly over the others, his slender, six-foot-five frame dwarfing the rest of the team.

“Thank you for agreeing to this mission, Saafi.”

“My pleasure, Dr. Winston,” he said. His deep voice held a vague trace of a Somali accent.

With a single wink aimed at Emanuel, Sophie returned her attention to the team. “Thank you all again for being here. I know how hard this must be for those of you with families at home, but I can’t express how pleased I am to have you all back for this significant mission. I thought we should take the opportunity to talk before we enter the Biosphere tomorrow. First, let’s start with questions.”

Emanuel asked quietly, “Does anyone else feel like NTC has way too much muscle invested in this project?”

“Why they hired an outside team to complete this mission is beyond me. Puerto Rico was one thing, but this is Mars we’re talking about, the fate of humanity,” Saafi piped up.

“That’s what I don’t get. Don’t they have twenty teams that can do what we do?” Timothy asked.

Sophie stepped up to the table. “We’re the best private science team on the planet, that’s why. The NTC board has enough common sense to realize that.”

“I don’t like that we’re being intimidated,” Emanuel said.

“Dr. Hoffman’s clearly trying to exert dominance over Sophie,” Holly said.

Emanuel shrugged. “I don’t care what you call it. I don’t like it. And the contract we signed scares the shit out of me.”

“You were the one who said we’re risking our necks for the human race, Emanuel,” Sophie said, shooting a stern glance in his direction.

“That was to keep you from getting us fired before the mission even started!”

“Well, we aren’t going to be fired, and now that we’re here we need to be focused. That means we need to get some rest. So if we’re done, I suggest we head to our bunks. 0600 is going to come quicker than we might like.”

The team members all nodded, acknowledging her before filtering out of the room. Sophie waited for them to leave before returning to the holographic images of the spheres still hovering over the table in the front of the room. She had an odd feeling, an eerie sensation that something was amiss. It was the same sensation she had felt in the chopper. But she shook it off; there was no turning back now. Emanuel was right—humanity was depending on them.

CHAPTER 3

SOPHIE awoke with sharp pain running up her back and neck, more than likely the result of the turbulent helicopter ride. A few pain pills and a cup of coffee numbed most of the aches. The mixture of excitement and adrenaline in her system took care of the rest.

It was actually happening; the mission was starting.

Just one more step until she reached her goal of seeing the Red Planet. She blinked and took in a short breath, savoring the moment before joining her team on a narrow ramp. They shuffled up to the platform anxiously.

She watched them advance, listening to the clank of their shoes on the metal walkway. Each of them had a unique reason for joining the mission. Emanuel had called it the opportunity of a lifetime for a biologist. Saafi had joked that it was his chance to continue his travels. Holly hadn’t said much, but Sophie knew she had signed on to advance her career. Timothy was the only anomaly. He had never explained why he decided to join them. Perhaps it was the familiarity of working with the team, or perhaps it was something else—Sophie wasn’t sure, and that bothered her.

The top of the platform was a large, triangular chamber made of thick, airtight glass on all sides. A single glass door blocked their entry into the space. They stopped in front of it, pausing to await further instructions. Several seconds passed before a speaker above the door coughed to life.

“Welcome,” said Dr. Hoffman’s voice. “In front of you is the first airtight chamber. Inside you will find a white jumpsuit with your name and title. Upon entering, please change into these suits and discard all of your clothes and personal items into the metal trunks on the floor. Once the green light flashes, a second glass door will open, and you are to proceed into the next isolation chamber. When the door is sealed behind you, a cleansing mist will fill the room and kill any toxins you may be carrying. After the cleansing is complete, you will enter Biome 1. NTC will monitor you for the duration of the mission; but remember, there will be no contact with the outside world after you enter the Biosphere. Do you have any questions?”

Silence washed over the room. “Good luck. We’ll see you in six months. Remember, humanity is counting on you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sophie replied.

The words had hardly left her mouth when she realized what it was that had been troubling her. Dr. Hoffman was a businessman, short on words but big on details. His presentation had seemed rushed, as if he had been preoccupied with something more important. What could be more important than their mission? Was there something he hadn’t told her?

The questions retreated as the glass doors to the first chamber opened. She moved inside and removed the suit marked Dr. Sophie Winston off a hanger. The set of clothes were a bit tight around her waist, but would suffice.

When the green light blinked she moved anxiously into the next chamber. The doors closed behind her and the hissing of jets broke the silence, spraying a cloud of mist into the decontamination chamber. Sophie closed her eyes, trying to drown out the noise from her throbbing ears.

The process of decontamination took about five minutes, and before she knew it, the hiss of the cleansing jets faded and the doors shuddered and began to open.

Sophie squeezed through the parting glass doors as soon as the gap was wide enough, and stepped into Biome 1. She took in her first breath of 100 percent filtered air, her eyes scanning the massive white dome rising above her. A warm glow radiated from the circular lights dangling from the top of the chamber.

Seconds later, Emanuel rushed out of the decontamination room and onto the metal platform extending around the habitat, a grin on his face. “Those are the grow lights,” he said, pointing to the ceiling. “They mimic sunlight with ninety-nine percent accuracy. During spaceflight these lights will sustain all organic life.”

One by one the other team members emerged and joined Sophie and Emanuel. They stood in silence, admiring the space that dwarfed them. There was something serene about the chamber—something peaceful. The space was so clean, Sophie felt like she was standing inside a massive operating room that had just been sanitized. The walls were a clear white; void of any of the signs or warning labels that would be present in a government facility. The only markings were the simple red lettering above the entrance that read Biome 1. The space felt so pristine. Even the dirt was perfectly level.

She took in another breath. The atmosphere didn’t taste like the smog she was used to. It wasn’t filled with the scent of chemicals or fertilizer, either. It was pure—the purest air she had breathed in as long as she could remember.

Emanuel was the first to step out onto the ground of the chamber. He landed on the dirt with a soft thud. Carefully, he trekked across the football-field-sized garden.

He paused to pick up a handful of the black soil before turning to look at the team. He let the soft dirt filter between his fingers. “This is some of the best topsoil left on the planet, imported from the largest industrial farm in Iowa.”

He wiped his hands on his pants and continued through the field, his excitement growing with every step.

“Do you see these red-tipped poles sticking out of the dirt?” Emanuel shouted.

“That must be the irrigation system,” Sophie said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want to start planting within the next twenty-four hours. The hybrid seeds will take only a fraction of the time to germinate and sprout. But in the meantime, we’ll be eating whatever NTC has left in the cafeteria for us, which I presume is nutrient-rich and taste-poor.”

“I know you’re anxious to get started, but we need to follow protocol,” said Sophie. “Saafi, I want you to head to the control room and check all of the systems. We need to ensure everything is running properly.”

“That isn’t necessary, Dr. Winston,” said a voice over the speakers. The holographic face of a young woman with a slender nose and cropped hair appeared on a console in front of them. The ocean blue image faded in and out before solidifying.

“All systems are running at one hundred percent. CO_2 levels are acceptable. Further—”

“You must be Alexia,” Sophie said, interrupting the hologram. She let out a frustrated sigh.

“That is correct. As I was saying, the systems are at—”

Sophie held up her hand to stop the AI. “Alexia, we can take it from here. We will contact you if we need assistance,” she said, turning to face her team.

“Very well, Dr. Winston.” The AI’s image crackled and faded away.

“You should consider treating her with a bit more respect,” Holly said, peeking around Saafi. “She’s part of the team now.”

“Yes, Holly, I know. But she isn’t in charge of the mission. I am,” Sophie responded firmly.

“She could be a very useful ally,” Holly said in a hushed voice, her eye catching a camera on the wall above them.

“Consider it noted,” Sophie said, continuing around the metal platform. “As I was saying, Saafi, please check the control room and familiarize yourself with the systems. Timothy, I want you to check the computer systems and ensure they are working properly as well.”

“All right, boss,” Timothy said, heading off toward a glass door that led to the next chamber. Saafi trotted after him.

“Great. Let’s check out the rest of the Biosphere, shall we?”

“Can we see Biome 2 next?” asked Emanuel.

“Sure,” Sophie replied, the hint of a smile crossing her face.

They hurried down the passage to the pond. As they approached, the glass door slid open, revealing another dome-shaped chamber. The ambient sound of a waterfall greeted them.

Sophie paused to admire a stream of clear water pouring into the pool from a stainless-steel pipe. The cascading water sent ripples racing across the pond. Reflections danced on the surface from the four globe lights nestled inside the white walls.

“Holy shit. Look at the size of it!” Emanuel crouched on the metal platform and peered into the dark water. “How far down do you think it goes?”

“If you get any closer, you might find out,” Holly chuckled.

Emanuel shot her a quick frown and stood, placing his hand on his hips. “This is our sole water source for the next six months. Whenever we turn on a sink or flush a toilet, the water will be filtered out of the pond through a series of metal pipes.”

“Magnificent. It even comes with a waterfall,” Sophie said, pointing at the cascading falls spilling into the pond.

“That water has already been filtered through the system and is being cycled back into the pond,” Emanuel replied. “Waste water, drinking water, it’s all recycled through a central processing center. I would guess that NTC spaceships will have very similar systems. Without an external source of fresh water, they’ll have to conserve everything. It is, without a doubt, quite extraordinary technology. Where to next?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Let’s head to the livestock biome,” Sophie said, motioning the others toward the exit.

Emanuel couldn’t help but smile. He had waited to see this facility for over a year now. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, one he never would have imagined being a part of earlier in his career. There were still moments when he felt as if he didn’t deserve it. He glanced at Sophie, smiling at her obvious enthusiasm. Had she wanted him on the project for his expertise as a biologist? Or because they—no, he refused to let himself finish that thought. All that mattered now was the mission. He wouldn’t let his team down—or, more important, the world.

Biome 3 was smaller than the others, but equally impressive. A set of holographic walls arched into the distance, slicing the room into three sections; one contained two sows and three cows, another held a dozen hens and one rooster, while the last held five nanny goats. Emanuel had requested the odd assortment of animals with a vegetarian diet in mind. The odd assortment of animals was surprisingly similar to the other biospheres Sophie had worked in.

“We’re not going to have to kill them, are we?” asked Sophie, eyeing the chickens uneasily.

“Maybe,” said Emanuel. “If Biome 1 fails to produce enough nutrients for the team. It’s all part of the experiment.”

Emanuel began trudging through the mud toward a console at the edge of one of the blue walls. Sophie noticed for the first time that he had already gotten dirt stains on his pants, and couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t seem to notice. A variety of numbers and symbols hovered over the center of the console.

“See this?” he shouted. “This console controls the holographic walls. We can’t hear it, but the walls emit a sound that keeps the animals from approaching. Amazing device.”

Emanuel had been all teeth since he entered the Biosphere. His wide smile was what had attracted Sophie to him from the moment they met. The worst day of the solar storms was the only one she could recall when she hadn’t seen him beaming with energy.

The scent of fresh manure crept into Sophie’s nostrils, making her cringe. She hated the smell of animals, especially their waste. “You can play with your toys later. Let’s meet up with the others; I want to check out the personnel quarters.”

Emanuel pushed the rim of his glasses higher onto his nose, and made his way across the dirt reluctantly.

“He’s the stereotypical nerd biologist, isn’t he?” Sophie asked Holly, her arms crossed.

Holly chuckled. “Sure is. A side part, glasses, and a five o’clock shadow. He basically radiates nerd.”

An image from their past crawled into Sophie’s mind: her and Emanuel, their bodies wrapped up under the soft sheets of a bed in the bowels of a bunker as they rode out the solar storms. She recalled the panic of knowing that the world was dying around them—and that the only cure was intimacy, the feeling of him being inside her, as if they were the last two humans on Earth.

The thought was dangerous. She knew she couldn’t risk that happening again. Not now, not like that, and not during the mission. There was too much at stake. She didn’t need any distractions, and besides, she wasn’t the type of person to try something that had failed once before. Her life wasn’t a science project.

She pressed on, her shoes hardly making a sound as she walked toward their quarters. It was less than a minute’s walk from the livestock chamber. She wasn’t an architect, but if she were, these were two areas she would have separated. Sleeping with the stench of manure wasn’t her idea of a good night’s rest, but it could help suppress any unwanted desires she might have.

Her concern disappeared when Biome 4 came into view. She poked her head into the first room. It was much more spacious than she had imagined, and impressively welcoming. A large bed protruded out of the concrete wall. It was attached only by small wires on both ends, and appeared to hover in place. On the nightstand was a thin tablet. It was encased in carbon, and her name had been engraved on the back.

“Not bad, NTC, not bad,” she muttered aloud on her way to the hallway.

“What do you think?” Holly shouted from the entry of her room.

Sophie smiled. “I won’t lie; I’m impressed. The conditions are much nicer than I thought they would be.”

“These tablets are great!” an excited Emanuel piped up. “They’re connected to the central mainframe. We’ll have access to live data about any of the chambers at our fingertips.”

“Not too shabby,” Sophie agreed. She looked down the hallway, noticing how different the chamber’s design was from the others. Instead of being a single circular space, Biome 4 was built around a massive mess hall. Three hallways branched off the central room and led to their sleeping quarters, the medical ward, the kitchen, and the command center.

By the time Sophie and the others got to the cafeteria it was late in the day. Timothy and Saafi were busy tinkering with their tablets at one of the metal tables. A blue hologram shot out of Saafi’s, illuminating Biome 2 on the middle of the metal table.

“Looks like all systems are normal in the pond chamber,” he said as Sophie approached. “In fact, all systems are performing at one hundred percent in the Biosphere.”

“Good news. I’m glad NTC left us with a fully functional system.”

“Hopefully they also left us a system without video cameras in every room,” Emanuel laughed.

An image of Alexia appeared in front of the team. “I don’t mean to correct you, but there are multiple cameras in every room.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Of course there are.”

“So much for trust,” Emanuel replied, frowning.

“Dr. Hoffman likes to know what is going on at all times,” said Alexia. “It is not that he distrusts us. He just—”

“Wants to see us all naked?” Timothy chuckled.

Sophie shot Timothy a glare. “What exactly do you mean by us, Alexia?” Sophie asked, spinning to face the AI’s hologram.

“Our team, Doctor,” Alexia replied in a calm voice.

Sophie struggled to come to grips with Alexia’s presence. She was technically in charge, but Alexia controlled the central mainframe. If something went wrong, Alexia, and not Sophie, would be tasked with making an executive decision, one that could mean the life or death of her team.

Sophie sighed, too tired to argue. “Time for dinner, everyone. Let’s see if NTC left us with a fully functional kitchen, shall we?”

The team laughed, but their anxiety was almost palpable in the filtered air. It wasn’t even the end of the first day in the facility, and Sophie was beginning to suspect NTC had a stronger grip on the operation than she had first imagined.

“This way,” Saafi said, pointing toward a white door at the far end of the mess hall.

“Have you already checked it out?” Holly asked, holding the door for the others.

“A month of packaged food, just enough time for Farmer Emanuel to grow us something worth eating,” Timothy said. “If he’s actually capable of it.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more annoying, you prove me wrong. For the record, it might take less time than that. These seeds grow faster than any I have ever studied,” Emanuel said, grabbing a vacuum-sealed meal from the stainless-steel cabinet.

The team carried their trays back to the mess hall in silence. Sophie grabbed the open seat next to Emanuel.

“What did you get?” she asked.

“That’s a really good question. I can’t tell,” Emanuel said, laughing.

Sophie smiled. His sense of humor always had a way of making her feel better, but the hushed whispering from the other table quickly reminded her that the mission hadn’t started off as planned. She leisurely picked at her meal, trying to ignore her staff’s conversation while replaying the day’s events in her mind.

Should she have accepted the contract so hastily? Or had her own dreams of going to Mars clouded her vision? There was also the lingering question of why Dr. Hoffman had seemed so rushed at the briefing. Was he hiding something?

The questions repeated themselves over and over in her mind.

“You need to eat. Tomorrow is the first lab day, and you’re going to need your energy,” Emanuel said, noticing she had slipped into a daze.

Her deep brown eyes darted away from her tray and caught his gaze. Her expression reminded Emanuel of a defeated athlete after a long game.

“NTC has us by the balls. It’s just . . .” Sophie’s voice trailed off.

“This is our ticket to Mars,” he said, finishing her thought. He smiled. “I guess that’s more of a reason to do what we came here to do and get out,” he said.

Sophie dropped her fork on her tray, the clank of metal echoing through the mess hall. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

Emanuel looked down at his own meal. “Me neither.”

Sophie looked at her watch, yawning. The day had slipped by, and the sun would have already gone down outside. She turned to her team as she stood and picked up her tray.

“We’ll meet back here at 0600 hours. Update your tablets before bed with your work schedules. I want to be able to track everything first thing tomorrow. Work will start in your biomes after a short briefing,” Sophie said.

The turbulent journey of the day before had worn her down, but it wasn’t the helicopter ride that had drained her the most. Questions kept spinning through her brain—about Dr. Hoffman and about the mission. Her own team hadn’t helped. With Timothy’s snide comments and her argument with Alexia, the mission had started off shakily.

She sampled the filtered air as she entered her quarters, and nodded with satisfaction when she found no lingering smell of manure. Her eyes settled on the inviting bed. A good night’s rest was what she needed. It was the perfect remedy for her aching body and troubled mind.

Hastily, she pulled off her top and removed her white pants, pulling back the covers and climbing between the soft sheets. Surprisingly, she didn’t think of Emanuel. Instead, her mind diverted to a different fantasy—a fantasy of another world, a place she hoped she’d be visiting in a matter of months.

CHAPTER 4

THE air was thin. She took in a deep breath, sucked it deep into her lungs.

It wasn’t enough.

She tried again, her open mouth drinking the invisible air.

Still not enough.

Her heart began to race, her mind quickly following suit.

Another long breath, and again it was not enough to satisfy her hungry bloodstream.

She heard the quiet whistle of air escaping her helmet before she saw the microscopic crack. The whistle grew, her mind transforming it into a deafening roar.

How had her helmet cracked? The glass was supposed to be nearly indestructible. No time for questions. She had to find safety before her air supply was sucked into the atmosphere.

Her heart beat faster inside its protective cage of bone, pounding as if it, too, wanted to escape its prison.

How fast? 180 beats a minute? 190? There was no way to tell; she couldn’t check her pulse through the padded suit, but it had to be nearing perilous levels.

She surveyed the horizon through her visor, searching for her ship, a shelter, anything. But the red sand of Mars stared back at her, beautiful and deadly, something she had dreamed of for so long.

Dreams.

Was she in the middle of one?

She sucked in another long breath, her mind ignoring the question. It wanted air—air meant life. The oxygen was draining out of her system, and with it, her life force. Soon her mind would slow to a crawl, and she would slip into unconsciousness as any spare oxygen was rerouted to her heart and vital organs. Then they, too, would slow, and finally, stop.

Her eyes desperately scanned the surface. She tried to run, but her legs protested. They were anchors, weights pulling her down.

How did she get here?

It didn’t matter. She needed to focus. Panicking meant death. She wasn’t ready to die. Not now, not after she had only just gotten to Mars.

In the distance, another deafening roar. Was it her mind playing tricks on her?

She turned and saw the outline of something approaching from a distance, hugging the red horizon like a dolphin riding a wave. The noise increased, and she blinked, straining her eyes. Something was definitely making its way toward her.

With every ounce of her remaining strength, she brought her hand to her visor, attempting to shade her eyes from the blinding sun. The object cruised across the skyline and momentarily blocked the glare, giving her enough time to identify it as a ship—not just any ship, either. She had seen it before, in one of NTC’s hangars.

Secundo Casu.

It was the prototype Dr. Hoffman had been working on for years. He had named it himself, humanity’s second chance. It was the same craft she had been promised a seat on.

As the ship came into focus, she saw the blue flame symbol of NTC stenciled on its hull. Her suspicions were confirmed. It was definitely Secundo Casu, and was clearly no longer just a prototype. Which meant work had been finished much faster than originally planned. But why? What would have prompted them to push up the schedule?

The growl of the spacecraft’s engines drowned out the sound of the air escaping from her helmet. For a moment hope replaced her need for oxygen. She watched the craft race toward her, and with her last strength, she waved her hands in the air.

“Down here!” she yelled, knowing there was no chance the crew would be able to hear her. “I’m down here,” she screamed again. Her voice sounded like a whisper in the distance, far from the firm and confident one she was accustomed to.

Her hands dropped to her sides. Her breath was labored and weak. Her head pounded as stars crept across her vision.

The sound of the ship’s engines pulled her back. She blinked several times and waited for it to land and rescue her. It closed in. But something was wrong. Why wasn’t it slowing? The pilot should be braking by now.

“Down here!” she screamed again. This time her voice was nothing more than a squeak, the desperate sound of a dying animal. A tear crept down her cheek as the craft roared above her, racing away into the distance. She dropped to her knees.

“No!” she cried, choking.

The ship disappeared over the horizon, but the roaring sound in her ears grew louder. Was her mind playing tricks on her?

A sonic boom knocked her on her stomach.

No, this was something else.

She rolled onto her back and saw the blue glow of another craft racing after the NTC ship, its design unlike any she had seen. It was curvilinear, like a disc, but not perfectly round. Its blue sides pulsated and rippled as it moved. Inside, a bright glow throbbed like a miniature heart. Was it the ship’s engine?

The craft glided silently across the landscape, which meant it was using new and advanced technology—technology she had never seen. NTC had been developing anti-gravity engines for some time, but they still hadn’t been able to master the technology. She knew because she’d watched two of the test ships explode within minutes of takeoff. The longer she watched the strange ship crawl across the sky, the more she doubted humans had crafted it.

Dozens of stars danced across her vision, mixed with a tint of red. Her brain was shutting down. She had only seconds of consciousness left.

But she couldn’t die yet; she needed a better look at the ship, and she wanted to see it with naked eyes.

Her hands rose to her neck and clawed at the two fastening devices that separated her from the poisonous air. She pressed down on the metal, and with a faint click, she removed her helmet.

The poison gases immediately raced into her deprived lungs, prompting her to gag. Coughing, she lurched forward. She tried to blink, tried to see the blue craft, but the gases were already busy eating her insides, and her vision was fading.

Then it was gone. Only darkness remained.

She could feel the tears flowing freely down her face.

What had she seen? A new NTC design? Or something else?

She had to know. Her eyelids struggled to stay open, blinking over and over, her dying eyes fighting for vision. And for a second, her right eye worked again. The strange craft was directly above her. Inside, the glow of its blue heart throbbed furiously.

One more desperate breath before her mind shut down and her vision went black again.

What had seemed like minutes had, in reality, only been seconds, more than enough time for the atmosphere to eat her insides and boil her skin—more than enough time to kill Dr. Sophie Winston.

“Sophie, wake up!” a voice screamed.

Two strong hands gripped her, shaking her violently.

“Sophie!” the voice yelled again.

The dense fog hovering over the doctor’s eyes slowly began to clear, and a face emerged. It was Emanuel.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said.

Sophie sat up, clawing at her tired eyes.

“Mars,” she said under her breath.

“Again? It’s happening more often, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “This is the third time this week. It’s just so . . .” Her voice trailed off as she rubbed her eyes again. “So vivid,” she finished.

“Explain it to me. Maybe I can help.”

“Don’t worry about it. Holly said the dreams are just nerves.”

Sophie watched him rub the deep wrinkles on his forehead. They made him look far older than he was.

“I know you better than she does. I know you in ways she never will,” he said with a grin.

She frowned. “Now’s not the time.”

“Sorry. Let me help you,” he pleaded. “Tell me, did you see the craft again?”

“Yes.”

“But—let me guess—you don’t want to talk about it?”

Sophie laid her head back down on the small pillow. She didn’t need to respond for Emanuel to know the answer to his question. He was right—he knew her better than anyone else.

“Go back to sleep,” she said. It was more of an order than a suggestion.

He shrugged and stood, stretching his muscular legs. “Suit yourself,” he replied, strolling out of her room and into the dark corridor.

Sophie couldn’t help but sigh. She hated pushing him away, but she had to keep him at a distance.

Darkness flooded the room as the lights dimmed. She closed her eyes and found the image of the blue craft entering her thoughts.

What was it, and why did she continue to see it in her dreams?

There were no answers, only questions, but something inside told her there was more to her dreams than nerves.

Fresh, dark blood was everywhere, speckled on the wall like macabre graffiti. It wasn’t like the blood Timothy had seen in movies; it didn’t look like ketchup or jam. It was a relish made from chunks of flesh and other pieces of gore that meant only one thing—something had died.

“What happened?” Emanuel roared.

Timothy looked up from the bodies of a dozen chickens sprawled out across the dirt. “I don’t know, I found them this way,” he said, staring down at the mess of feathers and sticky blood.

“What the hell . . . ?” Emanuel knelt to check the dead birds.

“What are we going to do? We needed their eggs!” Timothy said frantically. “We better call Dr. Winston and the others.”

“No! Not yet. Sophie will want answers, and I need to figure out what happened first.” He stared back down at the dead chickens. Their beaks had all been whittled down, cracked and broken as if they had tried to peck through the walls. Quickly he grabbed a pair of gloves from his back pocket and picked up one of the hens to examine it more closely.

“Take a look at that,” he said, holding the bird in front of Timothy’s face.

“Get that thing away from me.”

“Relax. Whatever killed these birds isn’t contagious. Look at their beaks. They died from massive brain trauma. They were trying to peck their way out of here.”

Timothy looked back at the biologist, confused. He knew computers, not animals—animals scared the shit out of him. When he was a kid he had been bitten by a stray dog, and ever since then he had thought of animals as food: not pets, not friends, just meals.

“Why the hell would they have done that?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Emanuel dropped the bird back into the dirt.

“Are you telling me they committed suicide?”

“It appears that way.”

“I don’t understand. If they were pecking their way out of here, then they had to be trying to escape something. But what?” he asked, searching the room.

“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Emanuel replied with a grin.

The curiosity quickly faded from the young programmer’s face, which remolded itself into suspicion. He looked back at his teammate. “What does you mean, exactly?”

“You’re the computer guy, right?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with dead birds?”

“Alexia said this place is rigged with cameras. If that’s true, then they have to have caught what happened on video.”

Timothy smiled, finally catching on. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he chuckled, staring back at the dead birds.

“Back up!” Emanuel shouted.

“All right, relax. And keep your voice down. I thought you didn’t want Dr. Winston knowing about this yet.”

“You don’t have to call her ‘Dr. Winston,’ you know.”

“Whatever. Maybe you don’t have to, but then again, you’re the one sleeping with her.”

The words caught him off guard. “Don’t you ever mention that again,” he said, sucking in a deep breath.

Timothy rolled his eyes. “It’s not a secret, you know.”

“It happened a long time ago. And it stopped a long time ago, too. If I ever hear you bring this up again—” His voice was interrupted by footsteps in the hallway.

They waited for someone to appear, but the noise slowly faded into the distance.

“If you’re done messing around, then how about you show me the footage?”

“Right,” Timothy replied, glad to change the subject. “Here,” he said, pointing at the screen. “At approximately three a.m. the hens started going nuts. Take a look,” he said, spinning the translucent screen with a swipe of a finger.

Emanuel, however, wasn’t paying attention to the screen—he was thinking about the time. Three a.m. was exactly when Sophie had had her nightmare. It was the same time she always had her nightmare.

“The witching hour,” he said under his breath.

“What?”

Emanuel shook his head. “Nothing, just a thought.”

Timothy rolled his eyes again, and returned his gaze to the screen. “What do you think spooked them?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. There isn’t anything in the footage. At first, I thought one of the other animals might have gotten out of its section undetected—and then somehow managed to get back in, I suppose—but that seems unlikely. I can only think of one other thing, but it’s a long shot.”

“Well, we have to tell the others something.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t going to like what I have to say.”

Timothy shot a concentrated glare his way. “Just tell me,” he said.

“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Emanuel paced over to the corner of the room, folding his arms across his chest. “Have you heard of animals having a sixth sense?”

“You mean when they freak out before an earthquake or something like that?”

“Precisely. My theory is that something outside these walls scared the birds. Something so terrible it prompted them to kill themselves.”

“What the hell would have done that?” Timothy asked.

“I have no idea, but I know how we can find out. Let’s find the others,” Emanuel replied, taking a look at the camera above them. The dark lens stared back at him, the blue glow from the power source blinking sporadically. For a second he felt very alone, as if whoever was supposed to be watching wasn’t there anymore.

CHAPTER 5

ENTRY 0001

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

I DO not have a birth date. The number associated with my name is not found in any civilian records. If you were to search for Alexia in any civilian database, you would more than likely see thousands of names. Type in my model number, 11, and you would get the same result. But they are not me.

Technically, I do not exist. I am neither human nor machine—I am artificial intelligence. My mother and father are NTC. NTC gave me life, and it can take life away with a single swipe of a blue screen.

The ten that came before me were designed to wage war, destroy, defeat, and conquer.

I was created for a more peaceful purpose—to help man escape the planet he has so desperately fought to control and, in turn, obliterate.

I am equipped with the most advanced computer system designed in the Western Hemisphere. My only rival was the ART910, which was built, tested, and brought to life in China a year before Alexia Model 5 helped a team of mercenaries destroy the country’s infrastructure.

This makes me the most powerful computer in the world. If I had been programmed to be arrogant, I would introduce myself as such, but that is not necessary. And although Dr. Winston and her team were not briefed on my abilities, they will soon grow to realize how useful I am.

When they sleep, I watch over the Biosphere. When they work, I double-check every biome. When the first ship leaves Earth’s orbit to colonize Mars, I will be on it, bringing a wealth of knowledge in an invisible database.

One of my sensors shoots an alert through my consciousness, and I bring up the image of Mr. Roberts and Dr. Rodriguez talking quietly in the control room of the Biosphere. They are huddled around one of the blue screens, pointing at the device.

The audio in the room is down, but I already know what they’re discussing.

I watched the hens die approximately eight hours and fifty-three minutes ago. But after running several diagnostic tests on the environment in Biome 3, I still do not have any conclusive data to explain the incident.

My protocol is to refrain from communication with the outside via any channel—data source, web, or two-way radio—unless absolutely warranted. This situation does not justify contacting NTC. I will watch and wait.

My sensors pick up movement in the kitchen, and I zoom in with Camera 54. Dr. Winston and Dr. Brown are preparing breakfast. Their relaxed facial expressions indicate neither of them is aware of the loss of the hens.

Psychology is one of thousands of disciplines with which I am programmed. So far, it has been one of the most useful. Dr. Winston’s reaction to my intervention yesterday indicated two things. One, she does not want me involved in her operations. Two, she needs to feel as if she is in charge. She is what psychologists refer to as a Type A personality.

I have over one million files advising me on ways to handle someone like her. But I do not need to waste milliseconds filtering through the material. A quote from an early democratic leader named William Penn, which I downloaded on my first day of existence, is more than sufficient: Let the people think they govern and they will be governed.

I speculate that Mr. Penn, like many great leaders, never realized his words would be utilized four hundred years in the future.

If I found things interesting, I might consider this observation a good example, but I do not. In most cases, I merely find things relevant, and this is.

I will follow Mr. Penn’s advice. Let Dr. Winston think she is in charge. Stay at a distance, and, when things go sour, I will step in, and I will be in charge. The proper order will be restored.

There is only one slight problem.

Every time I replay the video footage of the hens dying, I come back to the same conclusion—they killed themselves. And the blue glow from the radio that the team is only supposed to use in case of emergency has gone dark. Which can only mean one thing—there is no longer anyone to receive their transmissions.

Holly’s soft voice broke through the silence of the mess hall. “What do you mean, the chickens are dead?”

Emanuel stood inches away from Timothy, their eyes both aimed firmly at the floor.

“What is she talking about?” Sophie chimed in, her voice calm and collected.

“Timothy found them this morning. They’re all dead,” Emanuel said.

“You can’t be serious,” said Sophie, her tone now alarmed. “How could that happen?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out all morning,” Timothy said, taking a seat on one of the metal chairs.

“Could it be a virus? Something biological? What if it’s airborne?” Saafi asked.

“Impossible. I had Timothy check, and the habitat is showing no signs of foreign threats. Nothing biological killed these chickens . . .” Emanuel hesitated and caught Sophie’s worried gaze. She nodded, prompting him to go on.

“They killed themselves trying to escape from their cages,” he finished.

Holly gasped. “Do you mean they committed suicide?” She didn’t like to use the word, especially in her field, but there was no other way to describe it.

Emanuel nodded, shifting his glasses further up his nose. “Precisely.”

“That’s insane,” Saafi said. “Why would they do that? Something in the habitat had to have killed them.”

Timothy shook his head. “No, Emanuel is correct. These birds killed themselves. They died of massive brain trauma after trying to peck their way out of their cages.”

“Emanuel, you must have some idea why they did this. Start talking,” Sophie ordered.

“I have a theory, but you may want to sit down to hear it.”

The team all found metal chairs and promptly sat, waiting anxiously for the news. Sophie crossed her arms, trying to hide the fact her hands were shaking again, this time not out of fear for her own life, but out of fear for the fate of the mission. It was only the second day, and if the Biosphere had been compromised, then their mission would be over before it had really begun.

“Animals are much more connected to the world than we realize,” Emanuel explained. “Their behavior before natural disasters indicates they may be able to sense a change in their environment before an event takes place. They may not know what’s going to happen, but many scientists argue they can still sense it.”

“What are you saying, Emanuel?” Holly said, her voice shaking. “What could have happened? What could the animals know that we don’t?” Her breathing started to get faster as she spoke, the color in her face draining with every word.

Emanuel paused and glanced over at Sophie. “Something catastrophic. That’s the only thing I can come up with. We’ve ruled everything else out: the video footage showed nothing, the habitats all report normal levels, and the chickens were healthy.”

“Catastrophic?” Saafi said gravely. His deep voice faded to a level just above a whisper. “Guys, I don’t like this. I’ve never, ever seen animals act like this before. Something’s terribly wrong.”

Sophie stood. “We don’t know anything for sure. Let’s just remain calm.” She knew she had to diffuse the situation before her team began to panic. She was going to have to do something she had hoped to avoid; she didn’t see any other choice. Without hesitating she turned to Emanuel. “Have you asked Alexia her opinion?”

A cooling unit clicked on and a breeze rushed through the ductwork, washing some of the tension in the room away.

Without looking at her, Emanuel shook his head. “No, of course not. I thought you’d want us to consult you first.”

“I’m glad you did, but as much as I hate to say it, we need to ask her what she knows,” Sophie said. “Alexia, will you join us?”

The blue holographic image of the AI instantly appeared over the console in the middle of the room. “How may I assist you, Dr. Winston?”

“What do you know about the death of the chickens?”

“I observed their irrational behavior and subsequently recorded their deaths at approximately 3:03 a.m. My sensors showed no abnormal levels in their habitat, nor did they pick up any threat from a predator. I can only come to the same conclusion as Dr. Rodriguez. Something from beyond the Biosphere agitated them, prompting their deaths.”

“What about the other animals?” Sophie asked. “If this was caused by something from the outside, why didn’t they react?”

“It depends on what happened beyond the Biosphere. As you know, all organisms adjust to their environment by altering physiological functions. They do so to cope with stresses influenced by both biotic and abiotic factors that are triggered by physical, chemical, and thermal sources located in or around the organism’s location. Unnatural stress may lead to illness, death or even extinction—”

“Jesus, get to the point,” said Timothy. “What caused the unnatural stress?”

“The tests I have run are all inconclusive. It could have been an earthquake, tsunami, or other phenomenon. In any case, we have no way of knowing without contacting the outside. I also have no way of knowing why the other animals were not affected.”

“So basically you can’t tell us shit?” Timothy laughed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “How much did you cost?”

Alexia ignored the question. “There is something else I have not informed you of yet.”

“And what’s that?” Sophie asked, mentally prepping herself for more bad news.

“The communication uplink is down,” Alexia replied, her voice undeviating from its typical calm and collected tone.

Holly’s face turned a ghostly white, blending with the walls of the chamber. “What do you mean?”

“The connection has been severed,” Alexia replied. “We are on our own.”

The smell of death overwhelmed Sophie.

“Emanuel, there has to be something you can do about that smell. This is one of the most advanced facilities ever built. Isn’t there a button you can push to fill this space with perfume?”

The biologist tossed a garbage bag of dead chickens on the ground. “If we won’t have it in space, then we don’t have it here. I doubt our ship will come equipped with air fresheners.”

Sophie smiled. “Another thing I neglected to add to the NTC contract.”

“How about ‘no dead livestock and no severed emergency communication line’?” Timothy laughed.

Emanuel scowled. “You’re really funny, man. Do you have a joke for everything?”

Timothy nodded and crossed his arms.

“Knock it off, you guys. You’re acting like egotistical teenagers. NTC picked us for this mission because we are all professionals, and damned good at our jobs. Things may be stressful right now, but we should be working together, not fighting,” Holly said.

“She’s right. We don’t know what’s going on outside the mountain, if anything. This is more than likely a test to see how we react to extreme conditions. And right now we’re failing,” Sophie replied.

“With all due respect, Dr. Winston, if this was a test, how did NTC kill these chickens?” Saafi asked, picking up another one of the dead birds in his gloved hand.

Sophie hesitated, looking to Emanuel for support, but he simply shrugged.

“I don’t know, but they could have had untraceable implants that caused them to behave that way. I’ve heard of biological weapons that can cause the same reaction.” The words had hardly left her mouth before she realized her mistake.

“Biological weapons!” Timothy shouted. “That’s just great. Now we have to worry about going insane and ramming our heads into a wall until our skulls are crushed?”

“There is no evidence of that,” Emanuel chimed in. “If Soph—if Dr. Winston’s theory is accurate, then NTC would have used something that only affects poultry, not humans.”

Timothy rolled his eyes and took a step back from the pile of dead chickens. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

“With a large portion of our protein source gone, it’s even more vital we get the seeds in the ground,” Emanuel said, ignoring Timothy.

Sophie sighed. “He’s right. Let’s finish cleaning this mess up and head to the garden chamber. Everything’s going to work out. We just need to remember the mission. Things could be a lot worse.”

It was her job to keep the team motivated, to keep them focused, but she couldn’t stop worrying. Was it a trick? A ploy Dr. Hoffman was using to test her crew? She wasn’t sure how to answer her own questions. It was possible NTC would throw a wrench into their mission like this, testing them to see how they would handle being caught off guard in deep space, but only two days into the mission?

Sophie knew nothing short of a massive solar storm, nuclear war, or asteroid impact would have the power to knock out the emergency communication line. It had to be a test. It had to be part of the mission.

She shook her head. The past few days had been awful. Her mind was running on overdrive, and her brain was low on fuel. If she was right, then losing the chickens wasn’t that bad. Neither was being unable to connect with the outside. The problem would be convincing her team that things were okay.

She bent down and grabbed another dead chicken. The bird’s bloody eyes stared back at her. If NTC was willing to put her team through a test as sick as this one, she couldn’t help but wonder what else they had in store for her.

CHAPTER 6

LOCATION: NASA JOHNSON SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON, TEXAS

YEAR: 2055

A RED haze lingered in the sky, creeping slowly across the horizon. It was beautiful in an almost divine way. Ten years had passed since she’d seen the green flicker of the aurora borealis dancing across the sky. Never in her wildest dreams had Sophie thought she would see the lights so pronounced, so different.

NASA had issued a memo to President Sandra Bolton months before, informing her that the Earth was scheduled to have its most severe solar barbeque since the Carrington Event of 1859, when solar storms fried the telegraph lines across the United States. But Bolton’s administration didn’t exactly get out the sunscreen. In fact, it had kept the memo secret until the sky started changing colors. When scientists around the world caught the drift of what was happening, it was already too late. The massive storm had the same effect on satellites as frying oil did on ice cream.

Sophie and Emanuel had been hired by NASA a month after the sunspots were discovered. With her expertise in solar weather and Emanuel’s experience studying the effect of storms on animals, they were an obvious choice. And it had more than likely saved their lives.

They were flown out to Houston and assigned to a research facility at Johnson Space Center, where they worked in an EMP-resistant bunker, the perfect place to ride out the most violent solar storm in recorded history.

But as Sophie and Emanuel stood on the roof of the observatory with the rest of the staff, they didn’t exactly feel safe. The sky was getting more active, the crimson more vibrant and profound. It took on an eerie glow.

Early reports streaming out of computers around the world indicated the storms were more powerful than originally thought. The magnetic readings were off the charts, unlike anything the scientific community had seen. And the storm was lasting longer than predicted. Something was feeding it, giving it more juice.

Sophie had noticed an anomaly early on, spikes of radiation coming from Mars, but she hadn’t had a chance to research what it meant, if anything, before the storms hit. Now, she wondered whether her anomaly had something to do with it—whether Mars could have been the source of the storm after all.

The world had been caught off guard, and just when President Bolton decided to finally hold a press conference to discuss the rare event, the solar flares were accompanied by the largest coronal mass ejection the Earth had ever experienced, bringing with it a dose of cosmic radiation stronger than all of the world’s nuclear weapons combined. The solar wind carried the ejection straight through Earth’s upper atmosphere, cutting it like a scalpel. It made landfall outside Chicago before evacuations could even be ordered.

Most scientists had argued this could never happen, but like many scientists before them, they were wrong.

Sophie had had a front-row seat to the destruction. With Emanuel by her side, she had watched in horror as the swirling red flares licked the sky.

By the time the emergency broadcast system began issuing alerts, it was too late for those living in the Midwest dead zone; transformers and power lines in every major city west of the Mississippi River and east of the Rocky Mountains were lighting up like bottle rockets. The result was massive fires raging out of control. They were too much for fire departments to handle. Within hours, entire cities were burning.

Emanuel had grabbed Sophie’s hand when the first transformer exploded, sending a spire of flame into the air somewhere in the middle of South Houston. Another pop followed a few seconds later, and before long the entire city sounded like it was having a massive Fourth of July celebration.

When the air raid sirens went off, Emanuel clenched her hand even tighter. The sirens made an odd sound—an archaic sound, one that seemed as if it should be reserved for a twentieth-century action movie with nuclear missiles raining down from the sky. As Sophie surveyed the horizon, she realized something much worse than nuclear-tipped missiles was raining down on them. This was hell itself.

Dr. Tsui, an elderly astrophysicist and the leader of their project, started herding their team back into the building. “Stay calm, don’t rush, we have plenty of time,” he said, his tiny arms flailing about. With his lab coat, pocket protector, and large, black-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a pediatrician who refused to retire than the head of one of NASA’s most well-funded programs.

But Sophie didn’t want to leave. The view was captivating. A million trails of smoke rose into the sky, and a red haze danced across the horizon—it was the most beautiful and frightening thing she had ever seen. It took Emanuel’s strong grip to pull her away from the sight.

“My wife, my kids—they’re out there! I have to leave!” shouted one of the research assistants. Sophie knew him only as Henry; she hadn’t bothered to learn his last name. He was young, not more than thirty years old. Just a kid in a field dominated by fossils like Dr. Tsui.

“It’s not safe. Chances are they’re hunkered down and waiting out the storms like everyone else,” Emanuel said, trying to reassure the man.

“No. I told them to go to my in-laws if things hit the fan. They’re probably trying to evacuate the city. I have to find them!” he yelled, his voice getting more frantic.

Dr. Tsui stopped in the middle of the stairway leading to the basement. “No one goes anywhere. You stay here and work until the storm passes.”

“That’s my family out there, Dr. Tsui! What if I can’t find them after the storm passes?”

“We all have families. But we also have work. What if all the police officers and firefighters abandon their posts?” said a heavyset woman who worked in programming. She was one of the newer scientists whom Sophie hadn’t yet met. “Society will collapse if the most important people fail to do their duty,” she continued, her double chin bobbing up and down as she spoke.

Sophie brushed a strand of sweaty hair out of her eyes. “She’s right. We need to ride out the storm and do our jobs. Leaving isn’t going to do any good, anyways; it’s too dangerous.”

The young scientist started to reply but hesitated, opting to refrain from further argument. He continued down the narrow stairway, his head lowered in defeat.

The stairway led to a command center in the bowels of the basement. It was unbearably hot. A state-of-the-art air-conditioning unit was built to cool the room, but the engineer who had designed it failed to take into account the juice the computers would need when working at full capacity. Dr. Tsui was forced to reroute power from the cooling unit to the computers, which were sucking the backup generators dry. By midnight the temperature in the bunker was nearly ninety degrees.

The heat didn’t seem to bother Tsui. He nursed a cup of coffee in the corner, staring intently at the dozens of monitors attached to the concrete wall. He was sucking the information in like a leech, analyzing it every second.

Sophie watched from the cot she was sharing with Emanuel, trying to drown out the sound of the crying, the hushed voices, and the prayers from the dozen other scientists throughout the room. She laid her head down on the tiny pillow, turning to face him. His lips parted and revealed his perfectly aligned teeth. A chill crept down Sophie’s spine, making its way to her toes. She returned his smile and gripped his hands underneath the covers. As the lights faded and darkness carpeted the room, she slowly slipped out of her pants. He bent in to kiss her, pulling her chin toward his with his index finger.

Sophie hesitated, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. But the darkness shrouded them. With a silent sigh she pulled him closer until she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

Another chill raced down her legs. This time is didn’t make its way to her toes, but stopped just below her abdominals, lingering. She kissed him deeper, her hands running through his mop of dark, unkempt hair.

There was something about the world going to shit that made her want him even more, as if it were the last time she would ever feel intimacy. When she was in high school, she had had a conversation with a friend about things they would do if the world was ending. “I’d have sex with the cutest boy I could find,” her friend had said.

Sophie, on the other hand, had said she would spend the night staring at the stars—and yet, with the real possibility of the world ending, the thought of stargazing no longer appealed to her. Tonight she didn’t want to be a scientist; she wanted nothing more than to feel Emanuel, to wrap her legs around him. If the world was going to end, she wanted to share it with him.

The next morning Tsui woke them. “The storms have passed!” he yelled, flailing his arms in the air.

Emanuel reached for his glasses, while Sophie struggled to find her pants. Seconds later they were crowded around the monitors, watching the data stream in from stations around the world. He was right; the storm was over, but the damage to the Midwestern states was severe. Radiation levels were extraordinary. Those who had perished in the fires were the lucky ones; any survivors would die horribly painful and prolonged deaths from radiation poisoning.

“My parents,” Emanuel whispered.

A sudden chill ran down Sophie’s back. Emanuel’s family lived in Chicago, and by the looks of it the Windy City was dead center of the damage.

“Millions will die,” Tsui whispered, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Emanuel scowled, suddenly ripe with anger. “Bolton’s administration never took this storm seriously!”

“The damage is done. We need to continue to analyze the storm’s data and send it to the Department of Defense,” Tsui replied.

Sophie took a seat at her terminal, logging in with a swipe of her index finger. The stream of data was constant; new statistics were feeding into their system by the second from locations around the world. The dead zone appeared to run from the edge of the Rocky Mountains to the Mississippi. Houston was on the border of the destruction, and while the city was busy being burned to the ground, the radiation levels appeared to be minimal.

A muffled voice rang out across the room. Sophie turned to see a middle-aged man with a mop of gray hair staring out at them from a screen hanging in the corner of the room. She recognized him instantly as General John McKern, a Department of Defense official and advisor on NTC’s payroll.

“Good morning, Dr. Tsui and staff; glad to see you all weathered the storm safely. It appears you just missed the worst of it.”

“Good morning, sir. How did Washington fare?”

McKern shrugged. “We were better prepared than most. The military has been hardening facilities, communications, and vehicles for decades.” He lit a cigar and blew a puff of smoke at the monitor. “As you know, it’s the Midwest that took the brunt of it. Which is why I am contacting you. My superiors want a module showing radioactivity patterns. Which cities are lost causes, which ones may be salvageable. You know the drill,” he said, taking another drag of his cigar.

“No problem, sir. We’ll upload the data within the hour,” Tsui said, motioning Emanuel and another scientist to a pair of computers against the far wall.

“Very good. I’ll check back later,” McKern said, his image quickly fading.

Henry, the young scientist who had panicked the previous evening, hesitantly motioned Dr. Tsui over to his monitors. “Sir, there’s something I think you should see.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember how the storms seemed to be lasting longer than our initial models predicted?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“So you recall that it seemed as if something was feeding the storms?”

Tsui nodded. “What’s your point, Henry?”

“I think I’ve found out what was feeding them. Take a look at this. It’s from the past few days.”

The group gathered around Henry’s terminal. A row of numbers hovered over the console.

Sophie recognized the data immediately. It was hers.

“That’s impossible,” Henry said under his breath, before telling the team what Sophie already knew. “The disruption is coming from . . . Mars.”

CHAPTER 7

THE clanking of Timothy and Saafi’s footsteps followed Emanuel across the metal platform above the garden biome. Several days had passed since the death of the chickens, and they were beginning to settle back into a routine. With the loss of one of their major sources of protein, Sophie had conscripted Saafi and Timothy to help Emanuel with Biome 1, leaving Alexia in charge of their jobs. They had spent the entire day planting seeds deep into the dark brown dirt.

“I can’t get the dirt stains off my hands, man, and I’ve spread it all over my monitors in the command center,” Timothy said, rubbing his hands ferociously on his pants.

“It’s the chemicals. This dirt isn’t your typical topsoil. It’s hybrid soil, meant to germinate seeds as fast as possible,” Emanuel responded, hardly sparing the man a glance.

“How long until the seeds sprout and we get veggies to eat?” Saafi asked.

Emanuel shrugged. “Could be as little as a few days for some of the seeds, and as long as a month for others.”

“What about the sweet corn? I love sweet corn,” Saafi said, revealing a mouthful of large, white teeth.

“I don’t think sweet corn is on the menu,” Emanuel laughed.

“I’m not going to lie. I was very pleased when I heard the diet would be mostly vegetarian,” Saafi continued. “I grew up eating very little meat.”

Timothy rolled his eyes. “Remind us where you’re from again?”

“You know where I’m from.”

“Africa?”

Saafi snorted. “Somalia,” he said proudly.

“Never been there,” Timothy quipped.

Emanuel paused at the edge of the platform and looked at the field, attempting to change the subject. “You’re looking at the last row. Once we’re done it’s back to the mess hall for lunch, so let’s make this quick.”

The trio jumped off the platform, landed softly in the dirt, and began trekking through the field.

“Finally, we’re in agreement about something,” Timothy replied with his mischievous grin. He brushed a long strand of curly hair out of his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of seeds.

“A little here, a little there,” he said under his breath, sprinkling the seeds onto the ground. The job was a change of pace from sitting at a terminal, typing in code and monitoring the biomes. And truthfully, he was beginning to enjoy it. Besides the fact that his hands were stained shit brown, he liked feeling like he was contributing to the mission.

Overhead, the click of one of the monstrous air-conditioning units startled him. Timothy cocked his head to survey the dome, and for the first time he realized how massive it really was. He’d spent most of his youth holed up in his room, playing video games and hacking into websites just to piss off greedy corporations. There were moments when he felt like he might have missed out on the rest of the world by spending so much time living in a virtual one, but this mission made up for all of that. And while he might have only traded his small computer lab for a much bigger one, the Biosphere was still the most advanced and aesthetically beautiful building he had ever seen, let alone worked in.

The AC unit clicked off, and the fans quieted. As Timothy reached in his pocket for another handful of seeds, there was another click, a deeper one. Emanuel and Saafi heard it too. The trio stopped dead in their tracks, scanning the walls for the source of the noise.

“All hands to Biome 3,” Alexia said through the speaker system. A pair of emergency lights above the entrance doors glowed to life, their red lights blinking intermittently.

“What the hell is this?” Timothy yelled.

Emanuel dropped his bag of seeds and took off running for the door. “What are you waiting for?”

Saafi ran after Emanuel, his long, lean legs catching up with the biologist quickly.

“What the fuck?” Timothy said. He didn’t want to be left behind, so he dropped his bag and began a fast-paced jog. He didn’t even make it to the platform before he had to stop and catch his breath. He blamed his labored breathing on a youth spent smoking in a room the size of an ancient phone booth.

He followed the sound of footsteps down the hallway until he rounded a corner and reached Biome 3. From the entrance he could see the others were already there, surrounding Alexia’s blue holographic image. But when he took a closer look, he could tell it wasn’t her image they were staring at. It was the goats. They were screeching in terror, as if a predator were chasing them. Two of them were cowering in the corner, shaking in fear, while the other three were bashing their heads into the biome’s exterior wall.

That wasn’t the only odd thing. The pigs were lying in their own filth; their tongues hanging loosely out of their mouths, blood streaming from their cracked skulls.

“What the fuck is going on!” Timothy shouted over the deafening noise.

The goats continued to shriek, their voices like human babies crying in pain. It was one of the most awful noises he’d ever heard, one he recalled hearing at the Iowa State Fair years ago, when a farmer sheared his goat in front of a crowd of patrons. Timothy clawed at his ears to muffle the sound.

“Alexia, can you shut off the emergency system?” Sophie yelled.

“Certainly, Dr. Winston,” she replied.

The flashing red lights clicked off and the automatic message stopped, the echo fading away. But the screeching of the goats continued until all of them were successfully slamming their heads against the white wall, staining it a dark red.

“Do something!” Holly pleaded with Emanuel. “Please, can’t you do something for them?”

The biologist stared at the animals in disbelief. He had never seen anything like it. Never in the history of his career had he read about animals behaving this way—except during the solar storms of 2055. Animals in the dead zone had all perished from radiation poisoning, the government killing them in droves to help prevent the spread of disease. But millions of animals outside the zone had died too. At the time, scientists had called it the space weather phenomenon, the theory being the animals were so distressed by the solar storms they became suicidal.

“Oh my God,” Emanuel said, watching the last goat take its final breath. “I have seen this before.”

Sophie shot him a frightened look, her face flushed and panicked. “What is it?”

“I think I know what’s happened outside,” he said. “The solar storms have returned.”

The mess hall was deathly silent. Sophie stood with her back against the wall, her arms crossed. The rest of the team sat around one of the metal tables, sipping cold coffee.

“So you’re telling us the solar storms started up again with no warning?” Timothy asked.

Sophie unfolded her arms and walked over to the table. “If what Emanuel is saying is true, then the granite rock of the mountain would have blocked most of the gamma radiation from the flares.”

“This is fucked up!” Timothy shouted, kicking his chair away from the table.

Saafi stood and flexed his chest, “Calm down, man! I’m really getting sick of your shit. Now isn’t the time to be having a panic attack.”

“Oh really? What do you suggest I do, put my legs up and crack open a cold one?”

“I suggest you shut your mouth,” Sophie said, snapping her fingers at him. “If you want a shot at that trip to Mars, then you better shape up or I’m pulling you from the team. There are a hundred other programmers who would love your seat.”

Timothy took a deep breath and sat back down, crossing his arms. “Whatever.”

“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t we have known about the solar storms ahead of time?” Holly asked.

Emanuel rested his coffee mug on the table. “Yes. Someone would have seen them coming—someone would have warned the world.”

“Do you remember the first day in the Biosphere, right before we went into the cleaning chambers?” Sophie asked.

Emanuel nodded. “Of course.”

“Dr. Hoffman’s instructions seemed rushed. Like he had somewhere more important to be,” said Sophie. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but what if he knew?”

Holly shook her head. “We don’t know what really caused the animals’ deaths, do we? You said it could have been a trick NTC used to test us.”

Emanuel ran his hand through his thick, unkempt hair, destroying the last remnants of his part. “At this point I think it’s probably not a test. We should ask Alexia what she thinks.”

He glanced at Sophie, who shrugged.

“Emanuel’s theory is plausible. After searching my database, I did find thousands of situations where animals behaved similarly as a result of the solar storms of 2055. However, we have no conclusive evidence anything has happened on the outside,” Alexia said, her image appearing over a console in the center of the room.

“Conclusive evidence? A dead communication line and a biome full of dead animals isn’t conclusive enough for you? I’m pretty sure that’s enough to convince me,” Timothy said.

“Enough already, Timothy,” Holly said.

“I hate saying it, but he’s right,” Saafi said. “I don’t know how else to explain what’s happened. Emanuel’s theory sounds like the only plausible explanation.”

Alexia’s image faded and disappeared, her voice transferring to the loud speakers. “NTC rules have prevented us from contacting the outside, but there is one way to figure out what’s going on—one thing you will have access to on a space flight.”

“What’s that?” Sophie asked curiously.

“Radiation detectors,” Alexia replied.

Emanuel smiled. “Brilliant.”

Her holographic image reappeared in front of the team. “Preliminary scans show radiation levels outside the facility are abnormal.”

“Fuck. There you have it. Game over for us!” Timothy yelled.

“This isn’t a video game,” Sophie said. “This is real life.”

“Are we sure that’s what it means? Couldn’t the radiation have come from another source?” Holly insisted.

“Just face it! We’re screwed. We might as well roll over now and get it over with,” Timothy said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Sophie bowed her head. She still couldn’t believe what was happening. The entire goal of the mission had been to test a new Noah’s Ark, one that would transplant humans to Mars so they could start a new life. But now everything had changed. Depending on how bad the solar storms were, it was possible the mission was over—it was possible there wasn’t anyone left to save.

Emanuel looked down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, guys. Maybe we should get some sleep. Discuss things in the morning,” he suggested.

Sophie nodded. “I want everyone to get at least six hours tonight. Meet back here at 0700. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

Saafi yawned and stood, slapping Timothy on the back. “You heard her, time for bed,” he said. Holly followed them toward the personnel quarters, but Emanuel stayed behind with Sophie.

“You should take your own advice and get some rest,” he said.

Sophie let out a sarcastic laugh. “Like I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Remember the night we spent together during the solar storms of 2055? You slept pretty well then,” he said with a grin.

Sophie scowled; she wasn’t amused. “Reminiscence is the lowest form of conversation.”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

“Oh, I do, but I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex at a time like this. Everything we’ve worked for, Emanuel. Everything we’ve dreamt of could be over.”

“I also remember how I felt the last time we were together, when we thought the world was going to end. Maybe the world has ended outside these walls,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Maybe this is it.”

Sophie felt a moment of apprehension. It was a familiar feeling, one she had struggled with ever since she first met Emanuel. On the one hand, she was terribly attracted to him, both physically and emotionally. But they had never had an opportunity for a real relationship. Their careers had always interfered. If they weren’t working on a project together, they were typically on different continents. And when they were working together, she’d always put the science of the mission first.

The apprehension faded into something deeper. An emotion she had always been good at controlling: fear. With the likelihood of massive solar storms occurring outside the blast doors, she couldn’t help but let her guard down. She needed Emanuel. He was her Achilles’ heel—his dimples, his slight accent, his brilliance and sense of humor. She could forget everything around her for a few hours, couldn’t she?

Just one night, she promised herself.

Just one night.

Sophie glanced at one of the cameras hanging from the ceiling. She bit her lip and strolled over to Emanuel, fixing his disheveled hair. “I guess it’s not going to hurt anything,” she said with a smile.

Emanuel looked over his shoulder, scanning the room for Alexia’s image, but she was gone. When he turned back to Sophie, she was already strolling toward the personnel quarters. “Better hurry up; if this is the end of the world we don’t know how much time we have.”

“I can be quick,” Emanuel laughed, following her down the dark hall.

CHAPTER 8

A SHADOW crossed the dusty red surface of the trail. For a moment panic raced through her before she realized the shadow was her own. She was alone. Somewhere in the Wastelands.

“No way,” she whispered.

She’d only seen the Wastelands from the safety of a chopper. It was a place she had always wanted to visit, to feel with her own feet, but the radiation was just too pronounced in certain areas. Enter a pocket of it and you could be dead within hours.

Sophie smiled, realizing she felt fine. She felt no nausea, or dizziness. Then again, she had no idea how long she had been in the open—or how she had even gotten there. Her elation evaporated when she saw a metal structure jutting out of a rock formation a few hundred yards away. Her eyes recognized it instantly, sending the image to her brain in less than a millisecond, but her mind protested.

This can’t be right.

Her vision did not lie. The structure was there, and it was real. But it had to be a mistake, some sort of joke. Her eyes surveyed the metal, studying the massive tower that had once helped launch rockets into space.

“The Kennedy Space Center,” she gasped.

It was impossible. The station had been decommissioned in the early twenty-first century, and buried underneath the ocean decades later when Florida became the first state submerged by the rising tides. She wasn’t a history buff, but one thing she knew better than most was the history of the space program, and this was without a doubt the remains of one of the early jewels of American space flight.

But if this wasn’t the Wasteland, where was the water?

Sophie made her way across the red earth, her brisk walk turning into a jog. It made no sense. The bottom of the tower should have been submerged. She pushed on, trying to ignore her questions. There had to be an explanation. She would find it.

Another shadow crossed her path, but this time it wasn’t hers. She shot a look over her shoulder and saw a craft approaching. She tripped and stumbled. A cloud of red dust exploded into the air, lodging in her lungs. She coughed, desperately trying to get air while rolling onto her back to get a better look at the ship.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, ignoring her labored breaths.

It was the same blue, oblate ship she had seen in her dreams, and it was heading right for her. She watched the geometry of the ship change, the sides pulsating and shifting as it glided across the skyline.

She sat up to get a better look. Pain instantly raced through her body as whatever she had tripped over sliced through her shoe.

“Ugh,” she yelled, diverting her attention away from the ship momentarily. She reached down to toss the scrap metal aside but paused when she saw the worn lettering.

Welcome to Kennedy Space Center

“What the hell is going on!” she yelled.

The quiet hum of the craft was the only answer. She dropped the sign and stood to get a better look at the machine. The translucent blue sides of the ship seemed to change with its speed. Inside the engine, or what she presumed to be an engine, light throbbed in harmony with the pulsating sides.

Sophie shielded her eyes from the sun to get a better look. The craft was speeding toward her, barreling down, and with every second it grew in size. She squinted and finally saw what appeared to be veins inside the craft, pumping a blue substance to the engine. Was it organic?

Was it alive?

The craft picked up pace, the sides shifting again. The same panic from before gripped her. Whatever it was, organic or man-made, it was heading right for her.

She turned to run, racing for the metal bones of the launch tower. The pain from her foot shot up her leg with every step. She had to push on.

The launch tower rose above her as she got closer. She was almost there—almost to safety. The humming increased behind her, and she risked another look over her shoulder to see the craft getting closer. It was almost on top of her.

She ran faster, the dust of the red earth coughing out from under her shoes with every stride. The skeleton of the tower was now above her. She searched it for a place to hide from the craft, her desperate eyes darting through the shadows.

A deafening noise ripped through the silence, bringing her to her knees. She yelled, gripping her ears in pain.

The sound was unlike any she had ever heard, a totally different wavelength. It was almost like the whistle of a dolphin, but at a higher frequency—much higher, as if someone had taken a pod of dolphins, combined all of their cries, and amplified it with the biggest speaker in the world. It was like one of the sonic weapons NTC had designed to stun or disable enemies.

Sophie moaned. She could feel liquid seeping out of her ears. Even as the blood filled her eardrums, she wondered what could have made a sound like that.

She turned to run, forcing herself up, but the craft was now above the tower. Hovering, it transformed itself into a sphere. The engine inside had stopped throbbing, and the veins protruding out of it like cobwebs no longer pumped the blue fluid. The craft appeared to be evolving, forming into a solid, like water into ice.

Water, she thought. The craft was made of water, and the veins were carrying it to the engine. Whatever the ship was, water was its lifeblood.

Suddenly the noise stopped, and the craft completed its solidification. She stood staring at it in awe, her fear washed away by pure admiration. The nose of the craft began to open, and a beautiful beam of blue light shot out at her. It was calming, almost like a cold shower after a long run in the heat.

But the sensation didn’t last. The light quickly began to burn. Her skin felt like it was being penetrated by the beam. She tried to look down at her arms, but she was paralyzed, her eyes locked onto the light that was consuming her.

“No!” she tried to yell, but her tongue wouldn’t move.

The beam tore deeper into her skin, reaching inside her flesh. She could feel her heart beating faster. She could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, and with it adrenaline.

She tried to move again, but the light seemed to squeeze her even tighter, preventing her escape. She gasped for air. Her lungs were being crushed, and she was beginning to suffocate.

Stop! she thought, pleading mentally with the craft. But it was futile; the beam had her. She watched it, her mind realizing what her body already knew—she was dying. The craft was stealing her life force.

Through the light she could see small drops of liquid rising from her body and moving toward the craft. First beads of perspiration from her forehead and then saliva from her mouth. She tried to swallow, but her throat was completely dry.

The beam gripped her tighter, crushing her lungs as she took her last breath of air. She stared helplessly at the light, watching the water from her body climb toward the machine, feeding it. As her brain began to shut off, it finally made sense. The composition of the ship, the dry Wastelands, the lack of water. But there was no one to tell—no one to see her die.

“Breathe, Sophie. Come on girl, you can do it,” a voice said from above her.

She coughed, sucking in mouthfuls of air. Her skin was cold, like she had been submerged in a bath of ice water.

“Snap out of it, Sophie; you were dreaming!” the voice cried.

A warm glow of light carpeted the room as another voice yelled out, “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s having a panic attack. I found her like this.”

Sophie struggled to open her eyes as oxygen seeped back into her lungs. She reached for her chest, clawing at her rib cage. Everything was intact, nothing broken.

“Hey, up here,” the first voice said. She heard the snap of someone’s fingers. Emanuel and Holly came into view above her.

“It was just a dream, sweetie,” Holly said, a warm smile on her pale face.

Just a dream.

Was it? Was the craft just a figment of her imagination? Had the landscape in Florida been nothing more than a reflection of Sophie’s fear of what might be going on outside?

She coughed violently, grabbing a glass of water from Emanuel, who stared down at her with concern. The water glided down her parched throat.

“More,” she said, motioning for another glass.

He handed her a second cup and watched her suck down the liquid.

“Another,” she requested.

Holly pulled a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. “Slow down, Sophie, you’re going to get sick.”

“I’m so thirsty,” Sophie replied, polishing off the third glass. “My dream . . . it was so . . .”

“Realistic?” Emanuel suggested.

Sophie nodded. “It was the same as before. The blue ship. Or . . . entity. It’s not a machine. It’s organic. Fed by water.”

Emanuel and Holly stared back at her with nervous, owlish looks.

“And I saw the Kennedy Space Center,” Sophie continued, motioning for another glass of water.

Emanuel reluctantly handed her another cup. The liquid dripped down her chin as she tried to drink and speak simultaneously.

“It was in a desert. At first I confused it for the Wastelands.”

“Sophie, the Kennedy Space Center was submerged under water years ago,” Holly said in her sweetest and softest voice.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Sophie fired back.

Emanuel sat down next to her and placed his hand on her bare thigh. “Sophie, these dreams, they aren’t real. You know they aren’t; you’ve said it yourself.”

She pulled away, her eyes widening in disbelief. “They mean something. And it’s not just because of anxiety,” she said, shooting Holly an angry look.

Holly pulled a metal chair up to the bed and took a seat, crossing her legs. “You’re right. They do mean something. Nightmares have a way of spilling into our everyday lives and can negatively affect our work performance, family, relationships, et cetera. What you’re going through is common. You told me a while ago you have two sides to your brain—the scientific side and the creative, illogical side. What you need to do is simple. You have to convince your brain the scientific side is correct. Be logical. Dreams aren’t real.”

Emanuel scooted closer to Sophie. “She’s right. You’re a brilliant scientist, one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. And right now we need you to be strong. The team needs a leader, and you are that person.”

Sophie nodded. “You’re both right. I’m sorry. What time is it?”

Holly looked at the blue mission clock above the doorway. “0600.”

“Then it’s time for a meeting. I have an idea to run past the team,” Sophie replied, rising to change into her lab suit. She donned her clothes quickly and squeezed past Holly and Emanuel, who waited at the edge of the doorway.

“I think I need to do more,” Holly whispered to him as Sophie’s footsteps faded down the hallway. “Maybe it’s time I set up individual counseling sessions with everyone.”

“Not a bad idea,” Emanuel replied. “If I were you, I’d start with Sophie.”

CHAPTER 9

WE have two options. One is to live off these packaged meals and wait for the seeds to sprout in the hope that the failed emergency communication line and radiation outside is just a test by NTC,” Sophie said, tossing one of the meals onto the metal table. “Or we can have Alexia open the doors so we can figure out what’s happened out there.”

Silence washed over the mess hall. Even Timothy remained mute. Sophie studied her team’s faces. She knew they were scared and, more than anything, disappointed. The mission was over. There was no salvaging it.

Sophie leaned over the table. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, guys. I want opinions.”

Emanuel crossed his arms, watching the fearless leader reemerge in front of them. This was the Sophie he knew, the Sophie he had fallen in love with years ago—the Sophie he still loved.

“No way in hell am I going out there!” Timothy said.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, either,” Saafi said quickly. “If this is a test, then we’ll fail the mission.”

“It is not a test,” another voice said.

The team turned to see Alexia’s hologram hovering above the corner console. “The radiation sensors cannot be tampered with without my knowledge. Furthermore, the animals could not have been poisoned without my detection. Whatever has happened, NTC is not the culprit. I am 99.9 percent sure. This would warrant Section 19.1 of the contract null and void and justify opening the doors.”

“There you have it, guys. The world has gone to hell in a hand basket. And there’s no way I’m going to risk my neck to see for myself. Besides, think of it this way—if the world has ended, we basically won the lottery. We’re in one of the most advanced self-sustainable shelters ever built,” Timothy said.

Emanuel unfolded his arms. “I’m not going to argue with you about that, but this shelter was only built to be viable for six months. Sure, we could make it last longer, but, there will come a time when we need to go outside. That’s what I vote for.”

“Me too,” Saafi said, changing his mind and raising his hand.

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing!” Timothy shouted. “We’ve only been in the Biosphere for a week. Not even that. And you guys want to scrap everything and go outside?”

“Haven’t you been listening to what’s going on?” Sophie snarled. “I’ve noted your opinion, Timothy, now pipe down.” She turned away from him and took a deep breath. “What about you, Holly? Where do you stand?”

Holly pulled a strand of long blond hair from her face and tucked it behind an ear. Her large eyes slowly found their way to Sophie’s. “I vote to stay here. Where it’s safe. We don’t know what’s happened outside,” she said, looking back down at the floor sheepishly.

“That’s okay, Holly. I understand,” Sophie said.

“That makes it two votes for and two votes against,” Timothy piped up.

“I can count,” Sophie replied. “You all know this mission has been my dream for a number of years, and as much as I hate to abandon it, I see no other choice. We can survive in here for a while, but without a solid line of communication or a way to replenish our supplies, we’ve got a year in here, maybe two—tops. We have to try and make contact with NTC. The only way to do that is to venture beyond the safety of the Biosphere. My vote is to go outside.”

Timothy stood and laughed hysterically. “I’m not going out there!”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to force you or anyone else to go. Emanuel, Saafi, and I will journey out on our own and report back. Holly, you make sure Timothy stays out of trouble while we’re gone,” Sophie said with a stern look. “Alexia, I’m going to need your assistance. Not only will you be tasked with opening the doors, but I will also need you to tell us where the NTC gear room is. I’m sure they have some sort of armory.”

“That is correct. There is an armory stocked with weapons and hazard suits near the blast doors through which you entered the facility. The train will take you there. I will unlock the doors once you get to the building,” Alexia replied.

“I’m also going to need some way to communicate with you from the outside. Do we have any headsets and video cams?”

“You will find both of those items in a storage closet within the control room. I can run the feed through the Biosphere’s system. As long as the lithium ion batteries last, Timothy and Holly should be able to track your progress outside from the control room, presuming there is no interference.”

“Excellent, then it’s settled. I don’t want to waste any more time—there could be people in need of help, so the sooner we find out what’s going on, the better.”

Sophie took a deep breath. The main mission had more than likely already failed, but a new one was about to begin. Somewhere inside she knew that it was even more important than the Biosphere—something told her it was connected to her dreams.

The train tore down the dark tunnel, the beam of its headlight cutting through the blackness like a rocket through space. Sophie rested her back against the hard seat. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were making the right decision. Holly had advised her to use the scientific side of her brain, the logical side, and that was exactly what she had done. After examining the evidence, she had no reason to believe NTC was testing them. It had to be a solar event or EMP attack. Something so terrible it had knocked out the hardened line to the facility.

She shook her head, trying not to think about post-apocalyptic scenarios. Deep down she had to believe there was still something worth saving, and that her trip to Mars was just being postponed.

The train slowed as the tunnel widened and opened up into the same hangar she had entered just a week before. Emanuel and Saafi sat in silence, staring at the massive blast doors towering above the small train.

Sophie squeezed through the train’s doors as they opened. “This is it, guys. Let’s find that gear.”

At the far end of the hangar, just shy of the blast doors, was a small, windowless building.

“That must be it,” Saafi said, pointing at the structure.

Sophie attached a tiny camera to the top of the headset she had retrieved from the command center. She pulled her blond hair back into a ponytail and slipped the device over her head, the speaker resting perfectly in her ear. “Alexia, this is Sophie. Do you read me?”

The feminine voice immediately responded. “Yes, Dr. Winston.”

“We’re headed for the equipment room, please advise.”

“I’ve unlocked the doors; you may proceed.”

Emanuel was the first to reach the building. He pushed a green button on the keypad, and the automatic metal door screeched open. Inside were the guts of what had been some sort of janitorial closet. A surplus of dusty mops and empty buckets sat in a disorganized cluster in the corners. On the opposite side of the room was a wall lined with black lockers, each filled with a plethora of weapons. Next to the lockers were hazmat suits and gas masks hanging from hooks on the concrete wall.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot,” Saafi said, heading for one of the black cages. He swung the door open and pulled out an assault rifle. It looked like an AR-15, but the design was slightly different. It was one of the newer models, equipped with a pulse canon instead of traditional lead bullets.

“I think I’ll be taking this,” he said with a grin.

“What do you need that for?” Emanuel asked, thumbing through the different hazmat suits.

“You never know what’s going to be out there. Like my academic advisor always told me, ‘better safe than sorry.’ And for the record, I do know how to fire one of these. I paid an entire week’s salary for a day of fun at one of NTC’s training facilities a few years back. The thing handles like a charm,” he said, looking down the infrared scope.

Emanuel shrugged and pulled open a cabinet with the blue flame symbol of NTC on its doors. Inside were several state-of-the-art matte black armored suits. They were made of carbon fiber and reinforced with a light, Kevlar-like material. He pulled out a charcoal-colored helmet with a silver mirrored visor.

“Holy shit, I’ve read about these. They’re what NTC Special Forces uses in the Wastelands. Protects you from radiation, lightweight. And these bad boys work in virtually any extreme condition you can think of,” he said, holding up the helmet to examine it under the light.

The sight of the suits sent a chill down Sophie’s back. She’d seen them before, during the solar storms of 2055. “How many suits are there?” she asked.

“Four.”

“NTC must have been in a hurry to leave this equipment behind,” Saafi said. “It isn’t cheap stuff.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Emanuel said.

“Maybe they’re just extras. No time to worry about that now. What size are those suits—think one will fit me?” Sophie asked.

Emanuel grabbed the smallest one out of the bunch, holding it up under the white glow of the fluorescent lights. “This one looks like it may be your size.”

“Perfect. I always did look good in black,” she replied with a smile. “Let’s suit up and meet in the hangar in five.”

The three team members stood looking at the blast doors, the twenty-five-ton monstrosity that had been built to stop a direct hit by a nuclear-tipped missile. If there was a single piece of the facility that made Sophie feel small, this was it. Even the massive domes of the Biosphere’s chambers hadn’t given her such a feeling of insignificance.

She couldn’t help but laugh when she saw Emanuel and Saafi testing out their armor, swinging their arms and kicking their legs about. It was a sight to behold: two men from academia, dressed in some of the most advanced suits of armor ever designed, moving around like they were attempting the robot dance.

Emanuel halted in mid-motion. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing. You just look so . . .”

“So what?”

“Nerdy!” Sophie laughed.

Emanuel strolled over to her, walking awkwardly in the suit. “And you look . . . hot,” he whispered in her ear. The words sent a chill down Sophie’s entire body. She pushed him away gently, eyeing Saafi to make sure he wasn’t paying attention.

“Did you both remember your nutrition?” she asked, ignoring Emanuel.

Saafi patted a small pack around his waist. “I brought several energy bars, some energy gels, and two bottles of water.”

“Me too,” Emanuel nodded.

“Good. Now comes the important question: How are we going to tell each other apart once we put our helmets on?” she asked.

“Do you mean besides the fact that I am six feet tall?” Saafi laughed.

“Well, just in case, your display will show a color for each of our suits,” Emanuel replied. “We can set them manually. Sophie, you’ll be green, Saafi blue, and I’ll be red. When you look through your display, my goggles will be glowing red.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Sophie replied, slipping her helmet over her hair. “Are you guys ready for this?”

She watched Saafi and Emanuel nod through her display, the goggles in their helmets glowing back at her. “Alexia, please open the blast doors.”

A loud crunch echoed through the bay as the mechanisms unlocked, hissing from the pressure. The metal groan of the doors shook the room, vibrating throughout the team’s suits. Sophie strained to see the opening, waiting anxiously for what lay behind the doors. Adrenaline raced through her veins as she peeked over Emanuel’s shoulder for a better look.

“Alexia, report on radiation,” Sophie commanded.

“Sensors are showing minimal traces.”

The groaning doors slowed before finally locking in place with a violent report. Emanuel stepped forward into the night, walking out onto the tarmac. Saafi and Sophie cautiously followed him. A carpet of darkness covered them as they stepped onto the concrete runway. The floodlights and antennae lining the landing strip were all dead, and in the distance Sophie couldn’t see a single light through her glass visor. The stars were of little help, hiding behind some kind of fog. To make things worse, they were all alone.

“Switching to night vision,” she said, blinking as the tarmac lit up like a night light, the green outlines of the blacktop filling her display.

“Looks like NTC abandoned ship,” Saafi said, pointing his rifle toward the empty concrete where the NTC choppers had once been.

“They weren’t the only ones,” Emanuel replied, heading toward the area where most of the support crew’s vehicles had been parked. Only two Humvees remained.

Saafi halted and dropped to one knee. “They were in a hurry, too—check out these tire marks.”

“What the hell is going on?” Sophie said under her breath.

“Where’s Colorado Springs?” Saafi asked. He stood and joined Emanuel at the edge of the tarmac.

“Should be right over there . . .” Emanuel trailed off. “What the hell?”

Sophie rushed over to join them, and together they looked into the valley below. The city was dark. If there had been a solar storm, then it made sense that the power would have been knocked out. What didn’t add up was the lack of fires. They couldn’t see a single one.

“Switch to thermal; I want to see if we can pick up any heat signatures,” Sophie ordered.

Their visors glowed to life. Thousands of tiny specks appeared on their heads-up displays.

“Something’s not working on mine,” Saafi said.

“Mine’s not working either. I’m getting all of these little specs of red light,” Emanuel said.

Sophie studied her display. “Me too. But guys, I don’t think it’s our equipment. I think those are actually heat signatures.”

“That’s impossible,” said Emanuel. “They’re too big to be human.”

“Alexia, report on radiation,” Sophie commanded.

“Still minimal traces.”

Sophie reached up for her helmet and unfastened the two metal clips, pulling it slowly off over her head.

“What are you doing?” Emanuel cried, rushing over to her.

“Uh, you guys are going to want to see this with your own eyes,” she said, frozen in awe.

Saafi and Emanuel quickly took off their own masks, and gasped. In the distance there were thousands of glowing blue orbs scattered throughout the city, glittering like diamonds.

Saafi coughed nervously into his gloved hand. “What are they?”

“I have no idea, but we’re going to find out,” Sophie said. “And . . .” she paused to survey the tarmac again. “And that’s going to be our ride,” she said, pointing to one of the remaining black Humvees. “Saafi, I hope you remember how to hotwire a government vehicle.”

“It would be my pleasure, Doctor,” he said with a grin. “Just don’t tell NTC when they return.”

The words echoed in her helmet. In the pit of her stomach, she felt a knot growing. It told her that NTC would not be returning. Her team was on its own.

CHAPTER 10

SERGEANT Ash Overton twirled a razor-sharp throwing knife between his fingers, still remarkably fast despite being plagued with severe arthritis. A tribal tattoo followed the bulge of his veins from the bottom of his right bicep upward and disappeared under his rolled up sleeve. He studied the wall of monitors and screens, trying to piece together what was happening. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing made sense.

Behind him, Private Eric Finley fidgeted with his plasma rifle, trying unsuccessfully to remove a jammed magazine of blue pulse rounds. He placed the weapon on a metal bench and ran his hand through his blond hair. His fingers hit a bald spot, and he went back over it again to feel if he’d lost any more.

“Damn,” he said under his breath. He was only eighteen, but had the hairline of a man twice his age.

To Overton’s eyes, the Marine was nothing more than a boy—a boy forced to join the military after losing a college wrestling scholarship to a blown knee. Studying the young man’s face, Overton decided it was a good thing. His oversized ears probably wouldn’t be able to tolerate much more wrestling.

The sergeant rolled his chair back to the monitors and took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the toxic fumes through his nose. An assortment of old data crawled across the screen from Department of Defense facilities around the world. The computer was running on an ancient analog system, which didn’t surprise him considering the age of the facility.

He sighed and reached for another cigarette, jamming it between his lips as he fiddled with an old radio. Behind him an automatic door screeched open, and Overton spun in his chair to see the lean frame of Corporal Chad Bouma slide through. The young Marine grinned, showing every one of his crooked teeth.

“Got the generator to work,” he said, his gaunt face beaming with pride.

“Excellent work, Bouma. It only took you two hours,” Overton replied sarcastically.

They had been separated from the rest of his team for over twenty-four hours, losing contact minutes after the three of them entered the facility two hundred feet underground and the blast doors had sealed them in. What was meant to be a quick recon mission to retrieve a fifty-year-old disc had turned into a boring slumber party with two of his most inexperienced men.

A chirp from the radio startled Overton, and he returned his attention to the hunk of metal in front of him. He fumbled with a cord, slipping the head into the jack and the bud into his left ear. With the flip of a switch, the radio blared to life. The sound of voices was eerie, especially after being in the dark for so long. But that wasn’t the only odd thing. Overton hadn’t heard anyone use an analog radio for years, which meant whatever had happened outside had knocked out more than just the internet—it had knocked out modern communications. The thought sent a shudder down his spine.

He exhaled the fear in a cloud of smoke and watched Finley and Bouma anxiously crowd around him. The outline of a monitor covered in cobwebs behind them caught his eye. He studied the plastic box it was connected to and concluded it was an ancient computer, the same kind he had learned to type on as a kid.

“See if you can get that thing working, Bouma. Maybe you can patch it through using a hardened line,” he said pointing with one of his muscular arms.

Bouma blinked several times and strolled over to the computer, tilting his head to examine the oversized, archaic box.

Overton popped in the other earbud and compressed his eyebrows, straining to listen. The first few channels yielded more foggy voices and the crackle of static, but as he scanned through them one voice stood out, almost crystal clear. And judging by the jargon, the man sounded military.

“What’s the word, sir?” Finley asked.

“Stand by, Finley. I’m still trying to make sense of things.”

“Recorded at 0500. The Russians reported the sky started changing colors before contact was lost with Moscow . . .”

“Are you hearing anything about the West Coast?” Finley asked.

Overton shook his head and held up his right hand, balling it into a fist. The action prompted Finley to scoot back to his own chair. He knew exactly how much Overton would tolerate before he brought the hammer down.

“Finley, get me a cup of that piss-cold coffee,” Overton snarled between transmissions.

“Recorded at 0600. Japan has gone completely dark. They reported a strange fog in the sky seconds before contact was lost.”

Overton grabbed the cold mug from Finley’s pale hands, hardly bothering to acknowledge him. He took a long swig, almost gagging on the bitter liquid. “This shit is nasty!” he yelled. “There has to be more coffee around here somewhere. Find it,” he ordered, bringing the bud back to his ear.

“Recorded at 0800. Contact with the Eastern Hemisphere has ceased. Europe, Asia—it’s all gone dark.”

Overton almost dropped his mug. Whatever was happening was a worldwide phenomenon, and it was either heading west or had already hit the United States. This was nothing like the solar storms of 2055—this was something much worse.

He strained his ears again, desperate to know what was happening. For a second he pulled his eyes from the screens and glanced down at his bare arms, the scars a constant reminder of the sacrifices he had made for his country. As the data filled his head, he became more and more enraged. He had been a Marine for over thirty years. He had survived the Texas uprising of 2045, and had served in Puerto Rico when the Spanish decided they wanted it back. Overton wasn’t the type of soldier to sit back and watch his country get destroyed.

The man had heard enough. “Listen up,” he said, spinning his chair toward his two men. “We got lucky; whatever this thing is, it’s affecting the entire world. I know you don’t happen to care much for General More, but sending us to recover data from this bunker was the best thing that the man could have done for us. Those orders may have very well saved our lives.”

Overton stood and walked over to another monitor, studying the video feed of Colorado Springs from a camera hidden somewhere above ground. The city appeared to be mostly dark; there was no sign of life, no sign of fires or sirens. Just hundreds of blue specks from what he presumed were emergency lights. “This is not a solar event. It’s something else.”

“Like what, sir?” Finley asked, fidgeting with his rifle.

The sergeant flicked his cigarette onto the concrete floor, suffocating it slowly with the tip of his steel-toed boot. “Frankly, I’m not sure.”

“Maybe the Chinese crawled out of their hole and set off an EMP of their own,” Finley said.

“Negative. To have an effect like this, an EMP would have to be too sophisticated, and too big. The technology that did this doesn’t exist,” Overton replied. “And if it did, the Chinese would be the last to get their hands on it.”

“Not to mention the analog system is still working,” Bouma said, tapping the computer and gesturing with his chin toward the radio. “Traditional EMPs would knock out all communications, and basically lock down the grid. Whatever happened outside was designed to shut down modern communications and modern life.”

“What do you think happened to the rest of our squad?” Finley asked.

His question was met with silence.

Finley jumped up and rushed toward the monitor. “Hey, do you see that?”

“What?” Bouma asked.

“That,” Finley said pointing at a slowly moving dot on the screen.

“Bouma, zoom in,” Overton ordered, pulling his chair over to the monitor.

In the middle of the screen, a Humvee was racing down the cluttered highway, zipping in and out of the graveyard of empty vehicles. The headlights tore through the darkness, illuminating hundreds of blue glowing balls.

“What the hell are those?” Finley asked.

“Fuck, I thought those were emergency lights,” Overton said, squinting to get a better look.

“Well, what are they?” Finley asked again, anxiously looking over the sergeant’s shoulder.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Overton replied. He scanned the grainy image for some sign of his squad. They had to be out there. An entire squad of Marines didn’t just disappear overnight unless they wanted to. And if he knew General More like he thought he did, the man wouldn’t just leave him in the bunker without orders.

“Bouma, download a map from the mainframe before that generator burns through its juice. We’re busting out of this death trap.”

The skinny Marine grinned, his crooked teeth protruding out of his mouth. “Yes, sir!”

CHAPTER 11

THE Humvee tore down the gravel road, a cloud of dust exploding from under the massive off-road tires. Sophie gripped the steering wheel as if she was holding onto a buoy for life. She steered hard to the right to avoid an empty minivan parked in the middle of the road and roared past it.

“Where are we headed?” Saafi asked.

“Haven’t figured that out yet exactly,” Sophie said.

“I want to check out the orbs,” Emanuel shouted from the back seat. “That’s our first objective.”

Sophie took a left and slid out onto the highway that led to Colorado Springs, kicking up another cloud of dust. “All right, keep your eyes peeled.”

The truck zipped over the street, its headlights illuminating the empty vehicles on all sides.

“Must have been a massive evacuation,” Saafi said, staring out the window. The empty streets reminded him of Somalia, where it was common for the government to shut down entire roads.

“But from what? I don’t see any sign of fires, and radiation levels are still minimal,” Sophie said. “In fact, I don’t see a sign of anything or anyone.”

The emptiness was eerie. She’d hardly had the time to think about it after they left the biosphere. But now it was beginning to eat at her, and as Cheyenne Mountain slowly shrank in the rearview mirror, she felt a sense of uneasiness crawling through her.

Sophie tore herself away from the mirror and stared ahead, admiring the silhouettes of downtown Colorado Springs. The outlines were oddly beautiful. Without lights, the buildings looked like metallic pyramids.

“There!” Emanuel shouted. “Watch out!”

Sophie slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing one of the floating orbs. The smell of burning rubber filtered into her helmet.

“What on earth is it?” she whispered.

“Fascinating,” Emanuel said. Sophie couldn’t see it, but she knew that behind his visor was a large smile. A discovery like this was what he lived for.

Before she had time to study the orb, he was walking toward it, the door slamming behind him.

“Wait up,” Saafi yelled, following him.

They wound their way between a pair of sedans and stopped a few feet from the floating ball.

“Shit,” Sophie said, putting the truck in park. She went to twist the key but opted to leave it running. If things got dicey, she wanted to make a fast escape. She opened the door and stepped out onto the street. Besides the idling diesel engine, there was nothing but silence. Nothing moved. The normal sounds of everyday life were gone: honking horns, chirping insects, sirens. The lack of noise was unsettling. “Keep sharp,” she whispered into her com.

The bright beam from the Humvee’s headlights helped her navigate the graveyard of abandoned vehicles. She peeked into a sedan’s windows. An open magazine, granola bar wrappers balled up on the floorboard, and an empty Pepsi bottle. There was nothing out of the ordinary—nothing to indicate a struggle or evacuation. The street was empty, too. Not even a single suitcase left behind, or a shoe lost in a hurried escape.

Nothing.

Sophie continued to the next car, finding the front windows down. She came up to the driver side window and stuck her helmet inside. There was more trash, a purse, and a pair of sunglasses.

“Come look at this, Sophie,” Emanuel said over the com. The words startled her, and she went to pull her head from the car. Then she saw it—the keys were still in the ignition. Her eyes darted over to the fuel gauge.

“Empty? What the hell . . .”

“Didn’t catch that, please repeat,” Emanuel said.

“Hold on.” Sophie hurried to the next vehicle. Through the window she could see the keys were still in the ignition and the fuel gauge was also on zero. The next two cars revealed the same thing.

What’s going on here?

An evacuation where people didn’t even have time to shut off their cars? She’d never heard of anything like it. During the solar storms of 2055, there were entire stretches of highway where people had been cooked in their vehicles, trapped during the CME. But this was different. There was no sign of a solar event—there were no bodies, no burned out cars.

Sophie ignored the eerie view and rushed over to Emanuel and Saafi. She placed her armored hand on Emanuel’s shoulder. Even through the armor, it made her feel safer. Over years of scientific research, she had seen some terrifying things, but this was unlike anything she had experienced. This was just . . . weird.

The sphere hovered two feet above Saafi’s head, putting it at about eight and a half feet high. Sophie studied it in awe. She had never seen anything that could float like that. The craft from her dreams crept into her thoughts, but she quickly pushed it away. Holly was right, they were just dreams, and this was nothing more than a coincidence.

“What do you make of it?” she asked, returning her attention to the glowing ball of light.

“It’s fascinating. It appears to be organic, with some sort of electrical current running around the shell.”

Saafi approached the sphere cautiously, his rifle pointed toward the blacktop. “What do you think is inside?”

“Don’t get too close,” Sophie warned.

Saafi craned his head to acknowledge her. “Relax . . .” he replied, pausing in midsentence as the exterior of the orb began to ripple. “What the—” he choked, stumbling backwards.

The surface pulsated, the solid blue glow fading into a translucent white. The sphere rippled again, the entire ball vibrating. Saafi took a guarded step forward, his rifle now pointed at the orb.

As he got closer a tremor ripped through it, shaking it violently. Saafi froze. “I think I can see something inside.” He moved another step closer and the sphere reacted again, the blue fading completely into white. “Yes, there is definitely something inside, and I think . . .” He paused to get a better look.

“What is it?” Emanuel asked, approaching it curiously.

The knot in Sophie’s stomach tightened. She knew whatever had happened to NTC and the people from the highway was probably related to the orbs. Nonetheless, she inched closer. She was a scientist, and far from a coward; she had to know what was inside.

Beneath the translucent white skin, there was a black entity. And it was moving. As the sphere stopped vibrating and the last hint of blue was gone, her heads-up display (HUD) glowed to life.

“Contact!” she yelled into the com. Whatever was inside had a heat signature—it was alive.

“Alexia, are you getting this feed?” Sophie asked over the com.

Short bursts of static broke out over the channel, but the AI did not respond.

“Shit. We must be out of range,” Emanuel said. “Or there might be some sort of interference.”

Sophie shrugged. “Just our luck. Guess we’re on our own.”

The three team members backed up simultaneously as the heat signature grew larger on their displays, Emanuel nearly tripping over his own feet.

“What the fuck is it?” he asked. “It looks almost like an egg,” he said, regaining his composure.

“I’m not sure what kind of eggs you’ve seen in the past, but unless dinosaurs have returned, this is no egg,” Saafi said sarcastically.

Emanuel moved his lips to respond but stopped. The black life-form inside was moving, curling out of its fetal position.

“Guys, it’s doing something,” Saafi said, pointing his rifle at the orb.

“Everyone back up,” Sophie commanded.

The entity continued to uncurl and moved closer to the skin of the sphere. As it got bigger, Sophie could see that whatever it was it had limbs. They were struggling to move through the substance filling the orb.

Emanuel craned his neck and surveyed the rest of the highway. There were dozens more orbs, all still glowing blue in the distance.

“Guys, I don’t know if you noticed, but the other orbs are still blue. Which means we did something to activate this one,” he said, a tremor present in his normally smooth voice.

“I think maybe we should get out of here,” Saafi replied, continuing to backtrack toward the Humvee, his gun shaking in his hands.

Sophie tried to think. She knew the orb could provide them clues about what was going on, but whatever was inside could put her team in jeopardy. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take at this point, not without knowing more.

“Let’s get back to the truck,” she said.

Emanuel cocked his helmet toward her. “But—”

“That’s an order,” she shot back at him.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Saafi replied. He dropped his aim and went to take another step backwards, his leg hitting the bumper of a car. The impact made him stumble and his finger squeezed the trigger of the rifle before he could stop it, firing off a half dozen shots. Five of them blasted into the sky, but the sixth tore through the white skin of the orb, tearing a hole the size of a melon.

“Holy shit!” Emanuel screamed over the com, rushing to Saafi’s aid. He helped the man up and they turned back to the Humvee, where Sophie was already waiting behind the wheel.

“Give me that,” Emanuel said, grabbing the gun from Saafi’s grips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

The Humvee’s horn tore through the silence.

“Turn around!” Sophie yelled into the com.

Emanuel saw the gaunt, pale face of what had been a man staring through the gaping hole in the orb’s shell.

“It’s human,” Saafi yelled. He took off running to help the man before Emanuel could stop him.

“Wait!” Emanuel screamed. “We don’t know—”

Saafi halted, frozen in his tracks a few feet from a puddle of blue goo that had spilled out from the orb, staring at the opening. Through the hole, a face looked back at him. Or what had been a face. It was hardly recognizable as human. The man’s skin clung to his cheekbones like a piece of plastic wrap. His eyes had shriveled into his eye sockets, and the irises were nothing more than small, black specks. Even from several feet away, Saafi could see every vein in the man’s face extending like cobwebs across his skin.

“Sir, we’re going to help you,” Saafi managed to choke out, his stomach lurching beneath his armor.

But the man did not seem to hear him. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice Saafi. His eyes remained unmoving in their skeletal prisons.

Saafi screamed as Emanuel’s armored hand brushed his shoulder. “Jesus Christ, man. You scared the shit out of me.”

“What do you see?” Sophie asked over the com. “I can’t see anything from my location.”

Nothing but the hollow sound of her breathing echoed over the open radio channel. Saafi and Emanuel didn’t know how to respond. They stood staring at the man, oblivious to everything around them.

“What do you see?” Sophie repeated anxiously.

Saafi pulled his gaze away from the man and looked back in Sophie’s direction. “It’s a man, but he appears to be very, very sick.”

“Get back to the Humvee immediately. He could be infected, and I’m not taking any chances.”

Saafi nodded and grabbed Emanuel. “Let’s go, man. You heard her.”

But Emanuel was captivated by the orb and the man. Not even the strange creatures he had studied that lived in the thermal vents of the Pacific Ocean compared. Whatever the sphere had done to this man was terrifying. More than that, it wasn’t natural. This was something alien.

“Come on man,” Saafi pleaded, tugging at Emanuel’s shoulders.

“Look,” he replied.

Saafi glanced back at the man inside the orb. His skin was changing. It was getting tighter, and the veins were getting more pronounced. The man’s lips were turning white and slowly beginning to crack, blood dripping out of them.

“Oh my God,” Saafi said. “We have to help him.”

“Don’t go any closer,” Emanuel said, putting an arm in front of Saafi. He knew there was no way to stop whatever was happening to the man. All they could do was watch.

A popping sound broke through the silence as the man’s eyes exploded in their sunken sockets. His lips quickly followed, bursting in a spray of red mist. Next went his skin, shrinking until it had no more room to stretch. It snapped like a rubber band and peeled off his face, vanishing into the orb, taking what was left of his scalp and hair with it.

Saafi’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t watch anymore and turned to run. “I’m fucking out of here, man.”

Emanuel, however, couldn’t pull himself away. He watched the man’s bones liquefy and sink into the blue goo before he, too, turned to run.

“What the hell happened?” Sophie asked as the passenger doors slammed, jolting the vehicle.

“Get us out of here!” Saafi yelled.

“Hold on.” Sophie wasn’t going to wait around for an explanation; the look on their faces, even through their visors, told her they were in trouble.

She gunned it, punching the gas with all of her strength. For a second she considered heading deeper into the city, but she quickly decided against it, turning the steering wheel 180 degrees. The Humvee’s oversized tires had no problem pulling up onto the curb, nor did they protest when the vehicle launched back onto the highway and into the bumper of a sedan, sending the smaller car into a ditch.

The old engine protested as Sophie navigated the graveyard of the abandoned vehicles.

They were almost back to the gravel road that led to Cheyenne Mountain when she heard it—the same high-pitched sonic blast she had heard in her dreams. At first her brain could hardly register what was happening. Surely her ears and mind were playing tricks on her.

But when the second blast drowned out the sound of the engine, her mind knew what she had tried to deny for so long.

Her dreams were real.

“What is that?” Saafi asked, gripping his ears as his eyes darted back and forth to get a look through the windows of the truck.

“It’s some sort of ship. Blue, just like the orbs,” Emanuel replied. “And it’s headed right for us!”

A flash of heat rushed through Sophie’s body. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, where she could see the shape of the craft tailing them.

“Sophie . . .” Emanuel paused. “It looks just like what you described from your dreams!”

She didn’t reply, instead opting to punch the gas even harder. If this thing was real, then she knew what it was capable of.

The truck ripped onto the gravel road, fishtailing and sending a cloud of dust into the sky. Sophie pushed down harder on the pedal, the vibration from the powerful engine mixing with the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

A little farther to go, then they would be back to the Biosphere.

Back to safety.

But the ship was fast and caught up with the truck in seconds, hovering over it. The hum of its anti-gravity engines once again overpowered the whine of the Humvee’s diesel. Saafi opened his window and craned his neck outside, studying the ship in awe.

“Its surface is just like the orb!” he yelled over the com.

“And that surface is starting to pulsate,” Emanuel pointed out.

Sophie trained her eyes back on the road, trying to ignore everything except getting them to safety. The truck began the climb up the winding path leading to the blast doors. If they were lucky, the trip would take only a couple minutes—minutes she knew they might not have.

“The surface is rippling!” Emanuel shouted again.

Sophie took a hard left as the road snaked around the mountain. The ship broke to the right, and for a second it looked to be moving away. But as the road straightened out, so did the ship, and it was hovering on top of them again before she could blink.

Saafi stuck his head out the window again, watching the surface of the blue ship transforming into a solid. He jerked his head back into the safety of the truck. “That thing is not human engineered!”

“You don’t know that,” Emanuel said, shooting him a glance over his shoulder. He gripped the pulse rifle tightly in his hands. The rational side of his brain told him that what Saafi had suggested was ludicrous, but his intuition told him maybe it wasn’t so far from the truth.

A blue beam shocked Emanuel back to reality. As soon as the light reached the truck, the diesel engine began to whine.

“It’s dying,” Sophie yelled, punching the pedal harder.

The truck eased to a stop, the gravel crunching under the weight of the tires. Sophie shot Emanuel a look through her display. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand. He stared back at her, and even through his glass visor, she could see the fear in his eyes.

“We have to get out of here!” Saafi yelled frantically from the backseat. A flashback from his youth raced into his mind. The memory was vague, but he could still see the armed men cornering his parents’ car before peppering it with bullets. He had escaped by running away; in some ways he had never really stopped, always moving from one place to the next. As fear overwhelmed him, he unlocked the door and opened it, jumping out onto the gravel road.

“No!” Sophie screamed, turning to stop him. But he was already running down the path. The humming of the craft roared back to life as it shot after him. It was on him in seconds, the beam consuming his body before he had a chance to run more than fifty feet. Emanuel and Sophie sat frozen as the light lifted their friend off the ground.

“We have to do something,” Emanuel said, gripping the rifle and opening the passenger door.

“No! You don’t know what that thing is capable of,” Sophie yelled, twisting the key desperately.

“Saafi, get out of there!” Emanuel barked into the com, ignoring her.

But he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The light had paralyzed him, and he could feel his skin constricting as it gripped him tighter. He tried to move his lips, but the more he resisted, the more the beam squeezed him.

“I’m going after him,” Emanuel said, jumping onto the gravel.

Sophie watched him run fearlessly toward the craft with his rifle drawn. “Shit,” she said, unlocking her door. “If I didn’t love him, I’d—”

A deafening roar tore through the night. It was the same high frequency she had heard in her dream when she’d been captured just like Saafi. She dropped to her knees, pulling her helmet off and gripping her ears in pain.

Another beam blasted out of an opening in the craft and took Emanuel before he had a chance to fire off a shot.

“No!” Sophie screamed, falling on her stomach and crawling toward her two teammates. It couldn’t end like this. She wasn’t going to let it. If there was a way to free her friends, she was going to find it.

She dug deeper, pulling herself through the gravel. With every heart beat the pounding in her head got worse. She swore she could feel her blood pulsing through the vessels in her head. But she didn’t let the pain slow her down. “I’m coming!” she yelled.

The frequency of the sound intensified, and she screamed in pain, rolling to her back and gripping her ears again. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had to go on—she couldn’t lose him.

She flopped back to her stomach and forced herself toward the noise.

One hand at a time.

The blue beam holding Saafi brightened, and drops of liquid began to race toward the craft. It was just like in her dream. The craft was sucking the water right out of him.

She pulled herself another foot and collapsed back onto her stomach, panting. The noise was getting louder, and the pounding in her head worse. She knew she had only a few minutes before the pain would be unbearable. An image of an autopsy she had seen in graduate school popped into her mind. The deceased was a soldier who had been hit with a sonic bullet. It was only meant to stun him, but his eardrums had ruptured under the frequency.

Sophie shook the thoughts out of her head. She could see the beam that had Emanuel was getting brighter too, beginning to rob him of his precious life source. Time was running out. She had to find a way to get them out of the light.

The frequency amplified again. This time it was too much. She collapsed face first into the dirt, completely disabled. Her mind drifted to random memories of the past: a vague recollection of holding Emanuel’s hand on the deck of a naval vessel after they had snuck out past curfew, an image of the first night they ever made love, of shaking Dr. Tsui’s hand as he welcomed her to the team at Houston.

And then another thought pried its way into her mind, but it was not a memory—it was a dream. The red surface of Mars. She closed her eyes, tears flowing down her face, her ears pounding with pain. It was the dream that hurt the most, knowing she would never walk on the red planet.

She blinked and opened her eyes just in time to see a rocket hit the side of the craft. The solid side cracked, and the blue glow of the electric barrier returned, pulsating violently. The beams dropped Saafi and Emanuel to the ground and the sound faded away.

Sophie tried to pull herself up but collapsed, watching the scene unfold with her face in the dirt. Two soldiers ran toward the craft, their pulse rifles spitting blue tracers at the ship. The ultra-hot bullets tore into the surface, which vibrated in protest. Sophie realized the blue exterior was some sort of force field.

Another rocket raced through the sky and exploded into the craft, sending it tumbling through the air. The engine at the heart of the ship began to thump rapidly. A sonic boom followed, and the ship disappeared into the sky, vanishing over the horizon.

Sophie took a deep breath, spitting chunks of dirt out of her mouth. She rolled to her back and stared up at the starless sky. Instead of darkness, she saw a face staring down at her. It was a rough face, belonging to a middle-aged soldier with a scar running halfway down his cheek. Then she noticed his piercing blue eyes. They sparkled almost like one of the orbs.

His lips began to move, but she couldn’t make out the words. He reached down for her hand as she began to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was the name stitched on his camouflaged uniform: Sergeant Overton.

CHAPTER 12

ENTRY 0009

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

SENSORS in biomes 1, 3, and 4 go off simultaneously. The alerts are not surprising; after Dr. Winston and her team left, a plethora of foreign substances entered the Biosphere. They are not necessarily contaminants, but anything detected outside the system’s normal levels will trigger a sensor. I have spent the afternoon doing damage control.

If I were human I would be repulsed by the monotony of the work, but I was programmed to perform without such emotions. It makes me more efficient and better at my job than any human could hope to be. Besides regulating the Biosphere levels, I performed over one hundred other tasks simultaneously.

What I do not yet understand is why we lost contact with Dr. Winston and her team at 2200 hours. Their last known video and audio feed came from latitude 38.748375°, longitude -104.812430°, right before they hit Highway 115 heading into Colorado Springs.

In addition to small traces of radiation, there seem to be some sort of electromagnetic waves interfering with long-range and short-range communication. My initial hypothesis includes two possible scenarios: one, there has been another solar event, or two, there has been an EMP attack from a foreign or domestic enemy.

Logic leads me to the latter of the two. The radiation levels are low enough to indicate an EMP attack. If there had been a solar event even close to the density of 2055, then radiation levels would be significantly higher.

A security sensor goes off, and I switch my attention to Camera 1 outside the blast doors. There are several figures standing outside, pounding on the twenty-five-ton metal barrier. They appear agitated. I zoom in and see four people, three dressed in military fatigues with large automatic weapons. Behind them is Dr. Winston. I do not, however, see Mr. Yool or Dr. Rodriguez. Which leads me to conclude this could be a test or even a trap.

I switch the audio port on. “Dr. Winston, do you read? Over.”

“This is Marine Sergeant Overton with First Recon Battalion. Dr. Winston is incapacitated at the moment. We ran into some sort of hostiles in the valley. Requesting permission to enter facility. Over.”

“Come on! Open up!” another voice shouts into the mic.

“Finley, back up,” Overton snaps.

Protocol tells me to refuse entry to the Marines, but the video feed shows Dr. Winston slumped against the side of the truck’s bumper, gripping her ears. She appears to need medical attention. My first objective is to protect Dr. Winston and her team; even though the Biosphere mission has failed, I am still forced to follow this objective. I must employ what humans call trust.

“Stand by, Sergeant,” I say, opening the blast doors.

I home in on the hangar with Camera 2 and watch the vehicle speed into the bay. Sergeant Overton and the two other men help Dr. Winston out of the vehicle and place her inside the train. They go back for Mr. Yool and Dr. Rodriguez. Both men appear to be unconscious, and the Marines carry them one by one to the train.

They arrive in the tunnel outside the Biosphere facility moments later. Cameras 14 and 15 record their movements. Sergeant Overton is clearly the leader, barking orders at the other two Marines. Dr. Winston is standing unaided now, and strolls over to the audio port outside the outer Biosphere offices and command center.

“Alexia, there has been a situation. I can’t explain right now, but I need you to open the Biosphere and let us in immediately. Saafi and Emanuel are in critical condition, suffering from unknown injuries while in the field. You need to amplify the speakers; otherwise I won’t be able to hear a word you’re saying.”

My programming allows me to pick up on the panic in her voice. She is frantic and appears to be going over the edge, both mentally and physically. I zoom in with the camera and see dried blood running down her cheeks. I scroll the view to her hands, which are shaking. I conclude the electromagnetic pulse that was used outside was done so in conjunction with some sort of high-frequency sonic weapon. This technology is not only rare—it is incredibly deadly, and was banned by the United Nations over a decade ago.

“Dr. Winston, protocol requires anyone reentering the Biosphere to go through the cleansing chambers.” With contaminants already in the facility from the team’s first trip outside, I am forced to implement drastic measures. I cannot afford to let any toxins into the Biosphere.

“We don’t have time!” she yells into the wall com.

“My apologies, Doctor, but this is required. The sooner you get them into the facility, the sooner we can administer medical attention.”

Dr. Winston pounds her fists on the concrete wall and turns to Sergeant Overton. “Have your men move Saafi and Emanuel into the chambers first. Then we all go through.”

The Marine nods and flashes a few quick hand signals to his men, who immediately return to the train to pick up Mr. Yool. They have removed his helmet, and after zooming in on his face I can tell something has gone wrong. His normally dark brown skin is pale and wrinkled, clinging to his cheeks. Dried blood covers his cracked lips and his eyes seem to be sunken into his skull.

With a simple code I open the door to the outer Biosphere facilities. The team members and newcomers enter a hallway that leads to the cleansing compartments. The two Marines carrying Mr. Yool set him down in the middle of the chamber before retreating to retrieve Dr. Rodriguez. I cordon off the area and seal the doors, immediately starting the decontamination process.

“Mr. Roberts, Dr. Brown, I need you at the entrance of the Biosphere to retrieve Mr. Yool. Take him to the medical bay immediately,” I say, the message repeating over the internal com.

I return my attention to Camera 25 and watch a cloud of white mist cover Mr. Yool’s unconscious body. Several minutes later, the doors slide open. Dr. Brown and Mr. Roberts are there waiting with a stretcher. As they drag his body out of the chamber, Dr. Brown lets out a shriek and drops Mr. Yool’s body on the ground, scooting backwards toward the wall.

“What are you doing? Mr. Yool needs medical attention immediately,” I say, my voice calm, collected, and unwavering.

“Alexia, Saafi is . . .” Dr. Brown pauses, her eyes glued to his face. “He’s not Saafi anymore!”

“Dr. Winston has requested that he be taken to the sick bay this instant,” I repeat in the exact same tone.

Camera 25 shows that two Marines have returned with Dr. Rodriguez. He’s moving now, aided by Sergeant Overton and one of his men. Dr. Winston follows close behind and enters the chamber with them, whispering something into the doctor’s ear as the Marines set him down on the chamber’s white floor. I close the doors as soon as they retreat, and mist fills the room.

ENTRY 0011

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

The medical ward is the last room in the personnel quarters wing. I’ve been running diagnostics on Mr. Yool for an hour. The results are . . . disturbing. His body composition has changed dramatically. He has suffered a loss of over 15 percent of tissue water, which in most cases would be fatal. His pulse is weak, but he is still alive.

Utilizing one of the three cryogenic chambers, I’ve put him in a medically induced coma to prevent any seizures from his spastic muscles. In addition, I have hooked him up to multiple tubes that feed him nutrients and saline. His skin, however, has yet to respond. It is wrinkled, pale, and filmy, with a hint of jaundice. I update his chance of survival to 19 percent.

I turn my attention to Dr. Rodriguez, who is in a bed adjacent to the cryogenic chambers. He’s sitting up, nursing a cup of water with a high volume of sodium. Dr. Winston sits by his side, her hand gripping his. The video image reveals she is still shaking. Her ears have suffered extensive damage; I have provided her with a medicated device to go inside her lobes until they heal. She should have no problems hearing now, but she may suffer headaches or vertigo as side effects.

Dr. Brown and Mr. Roberts sit in metal chairs in the hallway outside. Their faces are flushed. Mr. Roberts twitches, picking at a hangnail. Dr. Brown is so still that I run a quick scan to make sure she has not succumbed to shock. Sergeant Overton and his men remain in the mess hall, consuming a day’s ration of packaged meals. Their expressions are tired, but not nearly as anxious as those of Dr. Winston and her team.

At 0200, and after a considerable amount of silence, I decide it is time I share with the team what I have known for several hours. I prepare the com system so my voice will carry through the Biosphere.

“Dr. Winston, Sergeant Overton, and teammates. Prompted by the opening of the Biosphere doors, an automated message from Dr. Hoffman emerged at approximately 2100 hours. Please relocate to the mess hall, where I will play the video on the holographic projector.”

As the team migrates down the hall, I cannot help but experience what humans would define as curiosity. After all, the past few days have resulted in more questions than answers, and if I am correct, Dr. Hoffman’s message will only add to the list of mysteries.

CHAPTER 13

TIMOTHY ripped a hangnail off his index finger as his right eye twitched. “I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”

“Right now we have just as many questions as you do,” Overton replied, as they waited for Sophie to wheel Emanuel into the mess hall.

“You guys are Marines. You’ve been outside. You should know what’s happening!” Timothy fired back.

Overton continued to twirl his combat knife on his fingertips, ignoring the man’s comments. Over the years he had increasingly lost his ability to deal with men like Timothy—men who were, in his opinion, a waste of time. He’d spent his entire career as an active-duty Marine protecting men like that.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, man,” Timothy persisted, fidgeting in his metal chair. “What is it, some kind of military thing? Is it World War Three out there?”

Overton gave him a quick “shut your mouth or I’m going to put my boot up your ass” look.

It worked. Timothy rolled his eyes and strolled over to help Sophie wheel Emanuel into the room.

“Do you believe that guy? Why the hell did they let him in this joint?” Finley asked.

“Sounds like a nut job to me,” Bouma replied with a grin.

“Keep your traps shut. Do you know where we are?” Overton paused to scan his men’s faces, but they stared back at him blankly. “Jesus Christ! We’re at Cheyenne Mountain, one of the best protected military bases in the history of the United States. This bunker was built to withstand a direct hit from a nuclear weapon, and can support the population of a small town for months. Right now we are guests at this facility. And until we figure out what’s going on out there, I don’t want to give them a reason to kick us out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

The squeaking of rubber tread prompted Overton to sheathe his knife and stand. He welcomed Sophie and Emanuel to the room with a short nod. “How’s your tall friend?”

“He’s alive, but barely. Our AI has him in a medically induced coma inside the cryo chamber,” Sophie said, sliding Emanuel’s wheelchair underneath a table. She strolled over to Overton with her hand outstretched. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you and your men did back there. So thank you,” she said, forcing a tired smile.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “My pleasure, ma’am. Just in the day’s work of a Marine.”

Timothy laughed. “Marines who don’t know what the hell is going on.”

Sergeant Overton took in a short breath, calming himself before he let go of Sophie’s hand and retreated to his chair. Under normal conditions he would be removing Timothy’s teeth from his mouth with one swift punch, but not today—today he needed a place to sleep and regroup so he could have the strength to fight later.

Sophie pulled a strand of frizzled blond hair out of her eyes and brushed it behind her ear. She shot Emanuel a glance before heading to the center of the room. The mission had gone from a failure to a complete nightmare, but she was still the team lead, and her people needed her now more than ever. They’d seen her go through many highs and lows in her career, from winning the J. J. Sakurai Prize for outstanding work in theoretical particle physics to subsequently losing grant funding for a project associated with a new particle collider funded by NTC. And they had stuck with her through it all.

She bent over the table, placing her hands on the cold metal and scanning the faces sitting around the room. She wondered if they would still stay by her side now.

“Listen up. I don’t know what’s happened outside. I’m not sure what we encountered on the highway or on our way back.” Sophie shook her head and sucked in a deep breath, straightening her back. “All I know is we have to move forward. But before we devise a plan, Alexia has something she wants us to see.” Sophie turned to face the console in the middle of the room.

“One moment, Dr. Winston,” Alexia replied. Darkness washed over the team as the lights faded. A burst of light shot out of the console, forming a crisp video feed that illuminated the faces of the team members.

Sophie recognized the empty control room instantly. It was the command center at the NTC headquarters in Los Angeles. She’d been there just three months ago, signing the contract that she thought was her ticket to Mars. Dr. Hoffman walked into the control room and looked into the camera. His face was solemn, fatigued. The lines on his aged forehead were deeper and more pronounced, as if he hadn’t slept for days.

“Dr. Winston, Alexia, and team. If you are listening to this, then it’s too late. The Doomsday Clock has finally caught up to us,” he said, pausing to look down at a page of notes in his right hand. As he reviewed the words, his nostrils flared and his eyebrows compressed to form a deep wrinkle. He crumpled the paper and tossed it on the floor.

Sophie had never imagined him as the type of leader who would let his emotions take control of him so radically. This meant, more than likely, that whatever he was about to say was earth-shattering. She strained her battered ears, her gut clenched, preparing for the worst.

“You all remember the solar storms of 2055. The solar flares turned the sky red and played havoc with communication systems worldwide before emitting a coronal mass ejection that turned the Midwestern region of the United States into a radioactive dead zone. These are things no one will ever forget. However, what you don’t know about this catastrophic cosmic destruction is its true origin.”

Dr. Hoffman grabbed a glass of water from a nearby table and took a sip. “The sun was not the only culprit responsible for these events. Dr. Winston, your team discovered a magnetic disruption while working in Houston. Something that was feeding the storms. You encrypted the data and sent it to us. And I’m guessing you were told to forget about it, that the information was classified.”

Sophie glanced over her shoulder at Emanuel, who gave her a confused look. He had lost both of his parents in the storm, and she had lied to him about its true source. While it broke her heart, the future of her career depended on the lie. She realized she had some explaining to do.

“In any case, the magnetic disruption was caused by an organic force—a force no scientist in the world could possibly understand. Until now.” Dr. Hoffman halted and stepped back from the camera so that a 3D hologram had room to enlarge over a metal console.

“I hope you can all make this out,” he said, flicking the blue shapes with his index finger.

Sophie gasped. It was the image of the ship from her dreams—the same ship they had encountered outside the mountain before Sergeant Overton and his men had rescued them.

“Meet Eve, the first extraterrestrial organic drone ever discovered. She’s made mostly of water, along with an electronic force field and a couple of elements that won’t show up on your high school chemistry teacher’s periodic table. We are calling these invaders the Organics. We found Eve submerged in an uncharted lake in the remote wilderness of Alaska in 2055. It was around the same time scientists realized the magnetic interference during the solar storms had originated from beneath the surface of Mars. Now, we still don’t know what’s down there. President Bolton’s administration refused to fund any research vessels, so we can only guess that Eve and the source of the magnetic interference are related. What we do know is this: 2055 was their first attempt at exterminating us. We have all seen enough B movies to know how the story goes. Aliens come to Earth for our resources and we fight back, finding a way to kill them through bacteria, nukes, or good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. Well, not this time.” Dr. Hoffman paused again to take another sip of water and glance at his watch.

“I’m sorry; time is of the essence, and I am running out of it. I’ll make the rest of this quick. We got lucky in 2055. The Organics failed at their first attempt, but they won’t fail in their second. This is why we have put so much funding into the biosphere projects. After the failure of their first mission, all our hope is riding on you. If you are getting this message, then it’s too late for the rest of us. My role model as a child, Stephen Hawking, was right when he compared a modern alien invasion to the European invasion of North America. It did not end well for the indigenous people, and it won’t end well for us. The storms of 2055 made it very clear. They want us dead.”

A staffer rushed into the room behind him, interrupting the presentation. “Dr. Hoffman, they’re coming!”

The command center’s lights flickered and began to fade as the doctor turned to face the camera again. “You must go—”

Before Dr. Hoffman could finish his sentence the image vanished and darkness flooded over the room.

“The Organics? What the fuck!” Timothy yelled, running both hands through his curly hair.

“We must go where?” Holly asked, her pale face almost glowing in the dim room.

Sophie stood and placed her hands on both aching ears, massaging the small medical devices inserted there. “Alexia, is that the entire message?”

“I’m afraid so, Dr. Winston. It must have been recorded and sent shortly before the disruption happened outside.”

“What’s that mean?” Timothy asked, his eye twitching frantically.

“Mr. Roberts, sit the fuck down before I have my men restrain you,” Sergeant Overton bellowed, rising from his metal seat. “Sounds like it wasn’t the Chinese after all, Finley,” he said, shooting the young Marine a quick grin. “What we have on our hands here is an invasion. And what do Marines do during an invasion?”

“They fight, sir!” Bouma barked.

“Oorah,” Sergeant Overton replied, his rough voice echoing through the mess hall. “Dr. Winston, before the presentation you mentioned a plan. Now the way I see it, nothing short of the grace of God spared our asses. And after seeing what happened to the rest of the poor souls in Colorado Springs, I figure we lived for a reason. So whether it’s divine intervention or just a coincidence, you and I need to work together. With your scientific brain power and my”—he paused and looked at the archaic metal .45 hanging off his belt—“my firepower, if you’ll pardon the cliché, I believe we have a fighting chance at taking some of these alien bastards with us. We already know they don’t react well to rockets.”

Sophie took a deep breath, mulling over the Marine’s words before shrugging. “Doesn’t look like we have a choice, but let me be very clear.” She caught Overton’s gaze and held it, unwavering. “This is my facility, and I am in charge.”

Sergeant Overton waited a few seconds before responding. “Works for me, ma’am.”

“All right then. We have all had an extremely long day, so let’s get some rest. Sergeant, you and your men are free to sleep in Saafi’s room. I’ll have Holly bring you some extra bedding and pillows.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bouma said.

“Get some sleep. We start at 0700,” Sophie said, returning to Emanuel. “Oh, and Sergeant,” she added, “one of you can take my room.”

Overton raised an eyebrow and then managed the first real smile that he could remember since this whole mess began. With a laugh, he pushed Finley and Bouma toward the private quarters. “Let’s go, you shitheads.”

Sophie motioned Emanuel toward the hallway. “I know I have some explaining to do. But before I do, please know I’m sorry. I had to keep the information about the solar storms from you for the sake of my career. For your career.”

“I know,” he said, looking up at her. He managed a smile. “Honestly, I understand. Besides you had no way of knowing what the magnetic disruption was. Or that it would lead to this.”

Sophie sighed and bent down to whisper into his ear. “It’s the end of the world. You know what that means?”

“You’re my new bunk mate?”

“You got it,” she said, wheeling him into the dark passage.

CHAPTER 14

THE alarm tore through the early morning silence. Sophie shot up, narrowly avoiding punching Emanuel in the gut. Fear raced through her as she tossed the sheets off the bed and rushed to grab her headset. Her stomach lurched when her feet hit the cold floor.

She felt like she’d been hit head-on by a truck, and then backed over.

Everything hurt.

Her head pounded, her vision was cloudy, and worst of all, she couldn’t think. Brainpower was the one thing that had gotten her through a laundry list of dicey situations in the past. Without it she was nothing more than another blonde in a lab coat.

“Alexia, what’s going on?”

“Dr. Winston, there is something I think you may want to see.”

“Can’t you just tell me over the com? It’s only”—Sophie paused to look at her watch—“0800. Shit, I overslept. I’m on my way.”

The red glow from the emergency lights lit the room, illuminating Emanuel’s tired eyes. Sophie fumbled for her clothes in the dim light.

“Stay put,” she barked.

“Is it Saafi?” he asked, sitting up.

“I don’t know. I’m headed to the control room to find out.”

Sophie rushed into the hallway, where she collided with Finley. She fell to the ground in a tangled mess.

“I’m sorry, ma’am!” he said, offering his hand to help her up.

Sophie managed to sit up, rubbing her throbbing head, and politely declined his hand. “I’m fine.”

“Are you su—”

“I said I’m fine, Finley. I just need to get my bearings.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but he hesitated for a moment. Sophie glared at him until he left and then clambered stiffly to her feet, gripping the wall for support.

The command center was packed by the time Sophie arrived. Her team and the Marines stood huddled around a monitor showing video footage from Camera 1, directly outside the blast doors. Standing in the morning sunlight was a child no older than five. He was gripping a filthy blanket and had lost a shoe.

“Open the doors, Alexia!” Sophie shouted.

“Whoa! Hold on a second there,” Timothy said. “We don’t know where he came from or how he got here. He could be infected!”

Holly raised her hand to cut him off. “He’s just a little boy, Timothy. I know you lack compassion, but do you have no heart at all?”

“I’m afraid Timothy might be right,” Overton said, straining to get a better look at the screen. “That kid didn’t just find his way up to the blast doors by himself. Well, it’s highly unlikely he did. What’s more likely is that these Organics are using him to draw us out.”

Sophie took a deep breath, weighing Overton’s comments against her own instincts. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take. Open the doors, Alexia. Sergeant Overton, I want you and your men positioned inside that hangar. Nothing, and I mean nothing, gets in besides the child!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Overton replied with a scowl.

Sophie took one more look at the monitor before racing back into the hallway. The logical side of her brain was telling her it was nearly impossible for the boy to have found his way there, but deep in her gut she was being told something else. This was no trap; this child needed their help. And she would be damned if she left the boy outside to die.

A bright ray of light tore through the gap in the blast doors, dividing the dark hangar in two. On the left side, Finley and Bouma knelt with their pulse rifles trained on the entrance. On the right, Sergeant Overton crouched behind a pyramid of metal crates with his rocket launcher at the ready. Sophie watched from inside the safety of the train, her hand hovering over the controls just in case her gut had been wrong and it was a trap after all.

As the doors screeched open, Sophie could see the narrow shadow of someone approaching. She watched Finley and Bouma straighten, their fingers gripping the rifles tighter in anticipation.

“Alexia, stop the doors,” Sophie whispered into her headset.

The massive metal eased to a stop, the opening just large enough for a human to pass through. Silence washed over the hangar as the team waited for the boy to slip through the crack. Sophie couldn’t hear anything but the hollow sound of her own heartbeat.

Overton’s patience was starting to wear thin. The door had been open for too long, further compromising the safety of the facility. He balled his hand into a fist and prepared to flash his men the signals to advance when the child stepped through the opening. The boy halted at the entrance between the two doors, squinting into the darkness.

Even from a distance Overton could see the boy’s face was smeared with dirt. The only clean spots were on his cheeks, where tears had washed away the grime. His shaggy blond hair was matted to his head like a hastily made bird’s nest, and his clothes were filthy.

Overton shot Sophie a quick glance, giving her the most reassuring look he could manage. But deep down something didn’t smell right. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe some five-year-old boy had trekked all the way up Cheyenne Mountain and knocked on the front door of one of the government’s oldest military installations.

Either makes him really smart, really lucky, or really dangerous.

“Hey buddy, what’s your name?” Overton asked, slowly stepping out from behind the safety of the metal boxes. He had never been good with kids, and barely even knew his own boys. They both lived in Arkansas with his ex-wife. He thought of them briefly, wondering if they had survived the invasion, but he quickly put the thought aside. He had a task to perform, and if he had learned one thing in his lengthy military service, it was to never let outside distractions mess with him during a mission.

“It’s okay, buddy, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Overton entreated. “Do you think you can come over here?”

Sophie watched from the train, furious with herself for allowing Overton to lure the child inside the facility. She should have known the rough man would just scare him off. He had the voice of a lifetime smoker and the face of a hardened prisoner. Not exactly the type of guy you’d want to watch your kids.

She started to approach but hesitated. Leaving the safety of the train would dramatically shorten their escape window. But the kid wasn’t budging, and judging by the look of terror streaked across the boy’s face, Overton wasn’t making any progress on convincing him to move.

Sophie jumped out of the train and onto the concrete platform, slowly approaching the boy. “It’s okay; no one’s going to hurt you,” she said, in the most reassuring voice she could manage.

The child took a step forward and then halted, hesitating as he saw Finley and Bouma with their rifles. Sophie craned her head and widened her eyes, whispering the words “Back off” into her headset. Both Marines reluctantly lowered their weapons and retreated into the shadows.

“What’s your name?” Sophie asked, turning again to the child. “My name’s Sophie, and this is where I work. It’s a safe place. These Marines are here to protect us,” she said motioning toward Overton and his men, who all faked smiles.

The boy’s eyes darted nervously from face to face, his mouth quivering as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Sophie took another step forward, prompting the child to take a step back. He squeezed his filthy blanket tighter against his chest.

Sophie knew she was running out of time. The longer the door was open, the more likely the Organics would find them . . . if they hadn’t already. Thinking of the name Dr. Hoffman had given the aliens made the events of the week feel terribly real. Her team had gone from working on the most important mission in human history to hiding from an invading extraterrestrial race, one she hadn’t even had time to study. And then there was Saafi, clinging to life because of her rash decision to leave the Biosphere.

“Where’s my daddy?” the boy suddenly said, shocking Sophie from her thoughts of self-pity.

“What’s your daddy’s name?” Sophie replied.

“Chuck, but some people call him Chet,” the boy responded, raising his voice. “He works here.”

Sophie relaxed slightly. It all made sense now. The boy had been there before. His father must have been a NTC guard or scientist. Sophie sighed audibly, a wave of relief flooding over her.

“Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll try and find him,” she suggested.

The boy regarded her with large, blue eyes as if he was trying to gauge her trustworthiness. “My name’s Owen,” he said finally, taking a step forward.

Sophie smiled. “Hi, Owen, it’s nice to meet you. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

The child nodded and looked down at his shoeless foot. One more step and he would be inside the hangar, and Alexia could shut the door. Sophie had to act fast; time was running out.

“Do you like macaroni and cheese?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “It’s my favorite.”

“Well, if you come with me, I promise I will make you a big, warm plate of it,” she said, smiling even wider.

The boy looked at her, hesitated, and then walked several paces toward the train. “Close the doors, Alexia,” Sophie whispered into her com. She watched Sergeant Overton sneak up behind the boy as the pistons of the doors hissed and moaned. Startled, the boy turned to run, but instead he collided with the Marine’s thick waist.

“Let me go!” the child screamed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” Overton said, gripping the boy’s collar in one hand. He dragged Owen toward the train, kicking and screaming, Sophie trying to comfort the child the entire way.

“It’s okay, Owen; you’re safe here,” she said, knowing very well she could be feeding him a lie.

The kid snorted out a gob of snot on Overton’s wrist. The Marine scowled. There weren’t many things in the world he disliked more than a whiny little kid.

The burning stench of plastic overwhelmed the aroma of cheese drifting through the mess hall. Timothy’s stomach growled nonetheless. He hadn’t had a real meal in over twenty-four hours, and the fact they were wasting one of the only mac and cheese packets on some stupid kid was pissing him off. The boy wasn’t the only one whose favorite meal was delicious cheese-covered shells.

Timothy gritted his teeth. “We need to think about rationing,” he said, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be cooped up in here.”

“There are bigger things to worry about right now,” Bouma said, tearing into a freeze-dried meal with a jagged tooth.

“Yeah, like figuring out how widespread this thing is,” Finley replied.

The squeaking of rubber tires echoed through the small room. Timothy cocked his head to see Emanuel wheeling himself toward the automatic coffee machine.

“What’s up, cripple?” he said with a grin.

Emanuel struggled but managed to stand and limped over to the skinny man, stopping inches from his smiling face.

“I don’t know if you’ve been an asshole all these years and just managed to hide it, or if you’ve just totally lost it. Whatever the case, I will not—and I mean not—hesitate to lock you in a storage closet.”

Timothy’s smirk faded, and he brushed a curl out of his eyes. “Hey man, I’m just kidding. Relax. Isn’t a little humor a good thing in a situation like this?”

“I’m not kidding.”

“All right, all right. I’ll tone it down a bit,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“See, there you go!” Emanuel shouted.

“Gentlemen, I know everyone is riled up, but remember we have a new guest,” Sergeant Overton said with a nod toward Owen, who sat next to Sophie and Holly in the mess hall. “Timothy, this is your last warning. Get it together or your friend Emanuel won’t be the one locking you in the closet,” he said stroking the .45 on the side of his belt. “After you guys get some grub, meet me in the control room. I want to see the layout of this place.”

Emanuel sat back down carefully in his wheelchair. “No problem, sir,” he said, swiping a mug of fresh coffee and balancing it between his legs. Cautiously, he wheeled himself into the mess hall.

“Owen, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Sophie said, watching Emanuel make his way toward them. “This is Dr. Rodriguez, but you can call him Emanuel. He’s in charge of the gardens and pond and everything else that helps make this place special and safe. Do you want to see the pond later?”

The boy stared down at his gooey macaroni, shoveling another hot scoop into his tiny mouth.

“Hi, Owen,” Emanuel said with a smile. “Is that stuff good?”

“Where’s my daddy?”

Emanuel looked to Sophie for help, but she just rubbed the young boy’s shoulders. “We’ll find your daddy. Don’t worry right now. Just eat your food,” she said.

Owen looked up at her with wide eyes. “I lost Sam,” he whimpered.

“Who’s Sam?”

“He’s my friend. When the sky started to change, my mom hid us. But then, when we came outside, everyone was gone.”

“Then what happened, Owen?” Holly asked.

“We found the blue circles. They were everywhere.”

“The orbs,” Sophie muttered under her breath. “I’ll tell you about them later, Holly.”

“The ship took Sam,” Owen cried, whimpering and burying his shaggy blond head into his blanket.

Sophie patted the boy’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Owen.”

“How about I show you the garden, or the pond, after you finish eating?” Emanuel asked.

“I want my mommy and daddy,” the boy cried.

“How about taking him to get cleaned up instead?” Sophie suggested. “You’ll feel better after a warm shower, won’t you?”

Owen shoveled more macaroni into his mouth and shook his head. “I don’t like water,” he mumbled, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

“I’ll take him,” Holly offered, pushing in her chair. “We can go for a walk.”

“You sure?” Emanuel asked.

“You can help me if you want.”

With a short nod, the biologist paced over to Owen and grabbed his empty tray. “Let’s go for a walk, bud.”

Sophie watched them disappear into the kitchen, where Emanuel was promising the boy a cookie.

“We need to talk for a second,” Holly said. She crossed her arms and leaned closer to Sophie. In a whisper she said, “Owen is going to need a lot of attention. He’s suffered through some major trauma and I’m going to need to spend some additional time with him.”

“You won’t hear any objection from me,” Sophie replied with a smile. “I trust you, Holly.”

“Owen’s not the only one that’s going to need more attention.”

Sophie’s stomach dropped; she knew what was coming next. She heard the sound of Holly’s voice as she continued to talk, but Sophie didn’t hear a single word. She didn’t want to talk to Holly about what they’d been through, didn’t want to think about the horror of what had happened outside, of what had happened to Saafi. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming back to her: everyone outside was more than likely dead. Everyone she had known, everyone she had cared about.

All dissolving in floating orbs.

“Are you listening to me?” Holly finally blurted.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go. I need to meet with Sergeant Overton and the others. I’ll find you later, and then we can talk more about this,” Sophie said. “I promise.”

Timothy flattened the holographic image of the Biosphere, pulling out the clumps representing each biome one by one. “As you can see, this place is a fucking bunker. Nothing gets in without setting off the sensors. And I’ve already told Alexia to let us know if anything out of the ordinary pops up.”

“What’s the energy source?” Bouma asked.

“Two mean-ass generators, shielded from EMP attack by some reptilian-looking armor. They’re both run off solar energy and only switch to juice when the sun goes down.”

Sergeant Overton hovered over Timothy’s shoulder, staring at the holographic images. “How long until the juice runs out?”

Timothy ran his hand through his curls. “Man, honestly, they could last years. And when the juice is gone, we can still run them off solar energy if we reroute power to only the critical areas of the Biosphere.”

“Good. So this place is secure and self-sufficient. The perfect place to launch a counterattack,” Overton said.

Timothy stood, shaking his head. “Whoa, wait a second—”

Sophie held up her hand. “Don’t start. I want to hear what Sergeant Overton has to say. I’m not leaving anything to chance. All options need to be on the table. There’s a lot to discuss right now, so you better sit down.”

The programmer bit his tongue, knowing he had used up every ounce of patience his team had left. He flicked the hologram and watched it vanish before heading over to a pair of monitors hanging on the wall.

“Sergeant, with all due respect, I’d like to know how you expect to launch a counterattack with only two other Marines,” Emanuel said. “And you still haven’t told us what happened to the rest of your team.”

Overton resisted the urge to snap at the biologist. He had been anticipating the questions, but still hadn’t thought of the answers. He wasn’t sure how he was going to lead a counterattack, and he certainly didn’t know the fate of his team; all he knew was that Marines didn’t hide in bunkers. Especially when the enemy was outside killing those he had sworn to protect.

“No idea about my team, but my guess is they ended up inside those blue things like the rest of Colorado Springs. As for a counter-attack” —the sergeant paused and stroked the metal handle of his .45—“I’m still devising a plan, Dr. Rodriguez.”

“That’s reassuring,” Timothy said under his breath.

Emanuel ignored him. “There is one other thing that still doesn’t make sense to me. How did Owen manage to escape when no one else was able to?”

“He’s a kid. Kids are good at hide and seek,” Timothy said with a nervous chuckle. “No, but seriously, he probably just hid until they—whatever they are—left.”

“Actually, I have a theory about that,” Sophie said. “Let’s go over the facts first. Timothy, make note of these on the smart board. Sergeant Overton, tell us what you know.”

The Marine massaged his temples, straining to recall everything his team had been through. “Well, we were dropped off at the decommissioned air force base about a week ago. It was just a simple recon mission: retrieve some old data NTC had requested and head back to HQ. But when we entered the underground facility, everything went dark and the doors sealed us in. That’s when I lost contact with my squad. We waited for twenty-four hours before I ordered Corporal Bouma to find a power source. After the facility came back online, he was able to boot up an old analog system—a system that hadn’t been affected by whatever disturbance Dr. Hoffman was talking about. The messages we heard came from all around the world. Russia, Japan, Europe, and then the East Coast. Every one of them mentioned a mist or fog. They also described weird colors in the sky. Then radio silence. Whatever happened started over Asia and spread worldwide in less than twenty-four hours.” Overton paused and took a sip of coffee. “That’s when we saw your Humvee zipping down Highway 115. There’s one other thing, though. Something I’m sure you’re already aware of.”

Sophie nodded. “Go on, sir.”

“Water. Lakes, rivers, streams. It’s all gone. Everything we came across was dry. Like someone sucked it up with the world’s largest drinking straw.”

“You saw this with your own eyes?” Sophie asked.

“You didn’t?” Overton asked with a raised brow.

“We were so fixated on the orbs and getting the hell out of Colorado Springs we didn’t take the time to look at the scenery. Besides, it was dark,” Emanuel said.

“That’s ludicrous. All surface water gone? Not a fucking chance. You don’t actually believe him, do you guys?” Timothy asked, his eye twitching again.

Sophie looked down nervously, recalling her dream of the Kennedy Space Center. It was all connected—it had to be. The Organics had come for the planet’s water. But how did she know? And how could she have dreamed these things before they actually happened?

She shook her head and let the rational part of her mind take control. “He has no reason to lie, Timothy. And if what he says is true, then I believe it may shed light on a theory I have. A theory on how Owen survived the attacks,” she said, biting her lip.

“I’m all ears, Dr. Winston,” Overton replied.

“Yeah, let’s hear some more crazy shit,” Timothy said folding his arms.

Finley leaned over and whispered something to Bouma. Sophie could barely hear him say, “What is this guy’s deal? Why is he even here?”

A chirp from the AI console distracted her, and she turned to see Alexia’s blue face emerge in the corner of the room.

“My apologies for the interruption, but external scanners have picked up some sort of beacon,” Alexia said.

“Beacon?” Holly said from the doorway, back from her walk with Owen. She wiped her wet hands on her jumpsuit and paced into the room. “Thanks for the help,” she muttered as she passed Emanuel. “Owen’s sleeping peacefully,” she added.

Emanuel frowned sheepishly and moved out of her way.

“Yes, Dr. Brown. There is a signal coming from a set of coordinates on the southern outskirts of Colorado Springs.” Alexia continued.

“Could it be NTC?” Sophie blurted. Her voice was louder than she had wanted it to be. Filled with excitement. Perhaps someone was out there, more people who had made it, like the Marines and Owen. Perhaps they weren’t alone after all.

“Preliminary scans show that this is some sort of emergency beacon,” Alexia replied.

“Another survivor looking for help?” Holly asked.

“More than likely,” Emanuel said. “This really doesn’t add anything useful to what we already know. So there’s a beacon—so what?”

“So it could be someone that knows more about what’s going on than we do,” Overton said.

“Which isn’t saying much,” Holly said. “Considering we don’t know much at all.”

Emanuel shook his head. “We know enough to know it’s a bad idea to go back outside.”

“I’m going to have to agree with him for once,” Timothy quipped, pointing at the biologist.

Sophie held both of her palms in the air. “Hold on, everyone. We’re all jumping to conclusions here. We listened to Sergeant Overton. Now let’s give Alexia a chance, and then I’ll continue with my theory. Deal?”

The team looked back at her, and one by one they nodded their heads.

“Okay then. Alexia, tell us everything you know about this ‘beacon.’ ”

“Certainly, Dr. Winston. At 1900 hours our external sensors began picking up a signal from the following coordinates: latitude 38.643555°, longitude -104.930330°. It’s coming from Turkey Canyon Road, along the West Fork Turkey Creek. Please note that the creek is no longer there.”

Sophie saw Overton take out a pen and mark the location on his hand discreetly. Great, she mused. Now the Marine would have more of a reason to go back outside and look for his team.

“Due to the timing of the activation, I have concluded this was not an automatic signal. Someone turned it on,” Alexia said. “Considering there are no other emergency signals within range of our scanners, it would be safe to deduce that this is a unique event. Someone out there wants to be found.”

“Or it could be a trap. How do we know this signal is coming from a human source?” Emanuel asked with a brow raised.

“The signal is being transmitted over an encrypted NTC channel. I found it while running a scan. It’s likely from a human source, Dr. Rodriguez.”

“So it is NTC?” Sophie asked.

“Not necessarily.” Alexia’s image faded and her voice transferred to the com. “My database does not show any NTC facilities at that location.”

Emanuel ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to Sophie. “What do you think?” he whispered.

She shrugged and decided to hold off further discussion of the signal. “Let’s table this for now and talk about what we know.” Pausing, she looked around the room. Each member of her team shared the same puzzled look.

“The radio messages Sergeant Overton and his men heard indicated the sky had not only changed colors but there was some sort of mist. This leads me to believe surface water was being vaporized into the sky. If there was enough of it, from lakes, rivers, and so on, then it could potentially have this effect. But that’s not where my theory becomes stretched,” she said, strolling toward a desk in the corner of the room. She reached for a glass of water and held it for the team to see. “Most people don’t realize it, but the human body is 70 percent this,” she said, dumping the water on the ground.

“No fucking way,” Timothy said sarcastically. “Like we didn’t all learn that in middle school.”

“As I was saying, the human body is mostly water. What if the Organics have some way of scanning for it? And what if they have a way of removing it from our bodies? What if the orbs are human-sized petri dishes with one purpose: to drain the host of every ounce of water in its body?”

Overton crossed his thick arms. “Is that what happened to Saafi?”

“I believe so. When the drone’s beam captured him and Emanuel, I saw some drops of liquid rising from their bodies toward the craft. And . . .” she paused and looked at a camera protruding from the wall. “Alexia, do you recall what Saafi’s water composition was when he first got back to the Biosphere?”

“Yes, Dr. Winston. He had lost over 15 percent of his water density.”

“Ding, there you have it,” Emanuel said. “Sophie’s right. Owen survived because the Organics didn’t pick him up with whatever scanning technology they have to detect water sources. Something wasn’t calibrated right.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t figure out a way to do so,” Sergeant Overton said. “If they have the ability to suck every ounce of water from the surface of the Earth, then they will find a way to get to the hard stuff.”

“Like the pond in Biome 2,” Holly suggested.

“And whoever’s at the other end of that beacon,” Overton added.

“Exactly. I’m guessing this attack will come in surges. Get the easy stuff first and then move on to the rest,” Emanuel said.

“All the more reason to check out this signal, like, now,” Overton said. “Maybe this person knows how to stop them.”

Sophie glanced over at him. A single vein was bulging on his shiny forehead. She knew he wanted an excuse to go outside and not only find his team, but also lead his ‘offensive’. This was his excuse—this was the ammo he needed.

But could she blame him? If Owen had managed to survive and make it all the way to Cheyenne Mountain, then other people could be out there, too. Was it worth risking her team for? If someone had asked her a few minutes ago, she probably would have answered no. But the game had changed. A beacon, activated on an encrypted NTC channel—the only channel that was transmitting anything in the radius of their scanners—had been discovered. She knew it didn’t necessarily mean salvation, but it could mean answers. And that was worth the risk.

“I think you’re right,” Sophie said, pausing for everyone’s attention.

“Oh no, please tell me you aren’t going where I think you’re going with this!” Timothy interrupted.

“If Owen survived, that means other people did, too,” Sophie said.

“She’s right. There might be other people out there. Other people that need our help,” Overton said. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins.

“Timothy. You have family, right?” Sophie said. “A brother you’re close with?”

The programmer’s animated face suddenly reverted to the unemotional one everyone was used to seeing. “What does Casey have to do with this?”

“He could have survived, just like Owen,” Sophie lied. She knew the chances were slim, but she had to convince her team that it was worth leaving the safety of the Biosphere. If finding the beacon wasn’t reason enough, maybe human life would be.

“We have to save everyone that we can,” Sophie said confidently. She scanned the room again. It was time to take a vote.

“We’re all in this together now, and I believe everyone should have a voice. As team lead, I’m putting this to a vote. Those that think we should travel to the coordinates and look for survivors along the way, raise your hand.”

“I strongly object,” Emanuel said.

Sophie had had a feeling she would lose him on this one. After all, Emanuel was a man who required evidence; a signal and the possibility of finding survivors was simply not enough to warrant a yes vote from him. Surprisingly, though, the rest of the room was filled with raised hands. Even Holly, who was looking at the floor sheepishly, had her arm in the air.

“It’s settled, then,” she said putting her hand on her hips.

Emanuel shot Sophie a look from the corner and managed a smile. He knew at this point nothing he could say would convince her to stay. All he could do was mouth “Be careful” before he limped into the hallway and disappeared.

Overton’s rough voice distracted Sophie, and she forgot Emanuel for the moment. “Gear up, Marines. We have a job to do!”

Sophie smiled. She was beginning to like the sergeant.

Biome 4 was full of commotion. Finley and Bouma scurried about, packing up last-minute gear and grabbing freeze-dried meals and bottled water from the kitchen.

“You don’t have to come with us, Dr. Winston. It’s much safer if you stay here,” Sergeant Overton said, jamming a magazine into his pulse rifle.

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not the type to sit back and watch. I didn’t get to where I am today in my career by taking the backseat.”

Overton smiled. He liked that about her; it was something they had in common. But he couldn’t chance bringing her back into Colorado Springs. She would be a liability.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t risk losing you.”

Sophie sighed, and tried not to notice Emanuel eavesdropping from a corner near the kitchen. He’d wanted to see the Marines off before they left, and had managed to do so without his wheelchair. His skin had regained some of its pigment, and his eyes were brighter. He was healing more quickly than Sophie had predicted. But although she appreciated their concern, she didn’t need him or Sergeant Overton looking after her; she could handle herself.

“If you and your men want a base to return to, then I’m coming with,” Sophie said, offering the ultimatum in her business voice. She’d pitched enough grants in her career to know the exact tone her opponents just couldn’t refuse. “Besides, if this signal is coming from NTC, then I’m your best link to any sort of rescue.”

“Have it your way, Doc, but if you put my men’s lives in jeopardy, I won’t hesitate in booting your ass to the curb and leaving you behind.”

“Deal,” Sophie said. “We leave at dusk.”

Sergeant Overton retrieved a cigarette from his chest pocket and wedged it between his dry lips. He went to light it when Alexia’s voice sounded over the com system.

“Sergeant Overton, this is a nonsmoking facility.”

Damned artificial intelligence.

His nostrils flared as he put the cigarette back and threw the strap of his rifle over his back. “Women robots,” he muttered. Worse than women, and almost as bad as kids.

CHAPTER 15

IT wasn’t that Sophie was afraid to die. She just really didn’t want to.

Being a scientist, she knew the possibility of life after death was slim to none. She believed in what she observed, utilizing the evidence provided to her, and there simply wasn’t any data on heaven. Religion had never appealed to her, because it required her to believe in something that replaced evidence with faith. But there had been times in her life where she could recall praying. Not necessarily to a specific deity, but to something—anything—that might be listening. The first time was during the solar storms of 2055. The second was when she thought she was carrying Emanuel’s child. The third was now.

She stared out the window of the ancient Jeep Wrangler that Sergeant Overton and his men had commandeered from the decommissioned garage of the air force bunker. It had been protected by the thick granite roof of the facility, and besides a leaky fuel line and an aged muffler, it was in pretty decent shape.

By the time they hit the gravel road, she had already given up on finding the right words for a prayer. It was mostly pointless anyway. What good would praying do? It wasn’t like anyone was listening. And even if God did have an ear to the ground, there was no way she could bring herself to believe that He would intervene on her behalf. Where would the justice be in that, when so many others had suffered and perished? It was all so confusing. Another reason she preferred lab experiments over Sunday mass.

Overton killed the lights as he steered the Jeep onto Highway 115. He didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, and while driving in the dim light wasn’t the safest option, it beat trekking on foot in the dark. Besides, he had been trained to drive in similar situations—although that training was more than two decades old.

“Keep sharp,” he said over the com. “I don’t want any surprises.”

The dark blacktop was littered with empty vehicles, sending a chill down his spine. The scene was reminiscent of his time in Puerto Rico, when the Spanish had sent Special Forces in to take the island back. He was with one of the first Marine units to land on the beach. San Juan had been hastily evacuated, cars abandoned everywhere. Mike, his best friend, had taken a sniper’s bullet to the eye before his squad had a chance to set up a forward operating base. He realized with a jolt that his oldest boy was now the age Mikey had been when he died.

Get your head in the game, Marine, and remember your own rule. Don’t let outside distractions affect your mission.

He shook his head, straining to make out the shapes of the vehicles in the faint light. The sun was slowly disappearing over the horizon, and they only had minutes of daylight left. He would then be forced to utilize his night vision goggles, which was nothing but a pain in the ass.

“Shit,” he whispered, steering the Jeep around another pair of sedans and up a hill. The truck moaned, the muffler spitting trails of black smoke into the air as it crept down the highway.

Overton massaged the brakes and eased the vehicle to a stop. A shadow shot across the blacktop ahead. He balled his hand into a fist and watched as a single crow extended its wings and took off into the sky. Something had scared the bird, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t them. He scanned the skyline for drones, but it was empty, with only the faint hint of crimson on a stray cloud creeping across the horizon.

Sophie fidgeted in the backseat, gripping the pistol Overton had given her. She could feel her heart thumping, faster and faster, as they waited. For a second she regretted coming with the Marines, but she quickly disregarded the feeling and sucked in a deep breath. If there were survivors out there, she was going to help find them.

“All clear,” Finley said from the passenger seat, scanning the road with his infrared scope.

The tires began to roll and the engine groaned as Overton slowly pressed down on the gas. Sophie watched the top of the hill come into focus. A large semitrailer was parked sideways, blocking the road.

“Can you go around it?” Bouma whispered into the com.

“Negative. The shoulder is too narrow to attempt that sort of maneuver. Could break an axle. Looks like we will have to continue to the coordinates on foot,” Overton replied, killing the engine and turning to look at Sophie. “Stay close and don’t talk unless it’s absolutely vital. Life-and-death kind of shit.”

She nodded and opened her door, stepping out onto the concrete. Her first instinct was to take off running toward the semi, anxious to see what was over the hill, but she refrained. At the Biosphere she was boss, but out here she yielded command to Overton.

With every step the knot in Sophie’s stomach grew. She wondered if the Marines felt it too, but she knew Overton probably didn’t. He was one of those career military guys. The combination of his broad shoulders, defined biceps, tribal tattoos, scars, and rough voice was enough to intimidate virtually anyone. And while Sophie thought it would make her feel safer, it really didn’t. They weren’t at war with Texas anymore. This wasn’t a war against other men and women. This was a fight against an extraterrestrial life-form that had the technology to travel across light years of space. As much as she wanted to believe in Overton’s tough act, she knew there wasn’t going to be a war—“war” implied two sides that had a pretty equal chance of winning. There would be no such thing against the Organics. All they could hope to do was survive.

“Cover our six, Bouma,” Overton ordered.

The sergeant raced past Sophie, taking point at a brisk pace. The darkness quickly consumed him as he disappeared into the night, the matte black of his armor camouflaging his movements.

At first Overton had been reluctant to accept the suit from Sophie, but now he was glad he had. For some reason the empty streets made him feel exposed and naked. His eyes darted to the sky, scanning it for drones, and then back to the street for contacts.

Still nothing.

He pushed on, his head bobbling with every step. By the time he reached the top of the hill he was breathless. Years of smoking had finally caught up to him. Taking one knee, he craned his neck and glanced under the belly of the semitrailer. What he saw took his breath away for the second time, prompting him to scoot backward.

He caught his labored breath and slipped his helmet off, resting it quietly on the ground beside him. This was something he had to see with his own eyes, not from behind the protection of his glass visor.

Dropping to his stomach, he crawled back to the edge of the truck and squinted. About a half a klick away, a cluster of what had to be thousands of orbs floated over a parking lot. And swallowing them was a luminous worm-like creature that stretched the length of the semitrailer he was hiding behind.

A burst of static over the com startled Overton, but not enough to pull his gaze from the scene below. He watched the creature inch across the concrete, leaving a trail of blue goo in its wake. It had no eyes and no face, but as it opened its mouth to swallow another orb, he saw it did have teeth. Hundreds of them, protruding out of its circular jaws like Bouma’s crooked overbite. With one swift motion, the worm slugged forward, consuming another glowing globe in one bite.

The round lump passed through the length of the creature’s translucent blue body before stopping in its tail, where it seemed to dissolve. What came next was enough to make Overton’s veteran stomach lurch—a belch, and then a violent vibration through the creature’s body as it shot a ray of mist into the sky before finally coughing up the remains of the orb’s former occupant. From his vantage point Overton could hardly make out the contents, especially in the dark, but the faint blue glow from the creature’s body was just enough to illuminate a sack of human skin.

“What the hell is that?” a voice asked over the com.

Overton finally pulled away from the view and turned to see his own reflection in Finley’s mirrored visor. For the first time in days, he saw how aged his face had become. Deep wrinkles stretched across his forehead, snaking beneath his receding hairline. His eyes appeared dull and lackluster.

“Sir, what is that . . . thing?” Finley repeated.

Overton pulled himself away from his reflection and turned back to the grotesque alien below. He ignored Finley’s question, and failed to discipline him for breaking radio silence, which was now a moot point.

Below, the creature was digesting another one of the orbs, slithering its way across the parking lot.

“Dr. Winston, get up here,” he growled over the com. “You ever seen anything like that?” he asked, pointing with the charcoal barrel of his pulse rifle.

Sophie gasped, blinking several times to ensure her brain was, in fact, comprehending what her eyes were seeing. “It appears to have the same surface composition as the drones.” She crawled farther under the belly of the truck, straining her neck to get a better view. “Looks like it’s feeding.”

Another short burst of static broke over the com. “All clear at the rear, request permission to advance,” Bouma said.

Overton slipped his helmet back over his shaved head. “Negative, stay put. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

“Do you think that’s them, Dr. Winston?” Finley asked.

Sophie continued to stare, her lips agape, before finally managing a nod.

“I’m not risking a trip on the highway past that thing,” Overton whispered. “We need to find an alternate route. Something more discreet.”

“For all we know, those things could be everywhere,” Finley replied.

Overton crouched and pulled out a tiny black tablet from his side pack. “All the more reason to avoid them by finding a different route,” he said staring at the blue screen. The GPS device fed into his HUD through a wireless link, but whatever had caused the massive communication failure had also effectively killed the wireless connection.

He cursed and put the device away, pulling out a small map of the area from his pouch with the coordinates highlighted in red ink. “Looks like we have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“But—” Finley began to protest.

Overton craned his head in the Marine’s direction. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. This isn’t a democracy—”

“Guys. Check this out!” Sophie interrupted.

“Keep it down,” Overton fired back before crawling over next to her.

“There. At one o’clock,” Sophie said pointing into the darkness. “I see a heat signature that’s smaller than the others.”

Overton swiped a button on the side of his scope, and a small targeting system popped up on his HUD. He clenched the rifle between his shoulder and chin and aimed it in the direction Sophie had pointed. Sure enough, a small heat signature emerged on his display. He zoomed in, and staring back at him was the face of a little girl, slightly older than Owen. She was hiding behind a Dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. And heading right for her was the massive worm.

“Fuck,” he said, dropping his head toward the concrete. It was just what he had been afraid of—a kid in the middle of this muck. Somehow children always found a way to position themselves directly in harm’s way; it was another reason he didn’t care much for them. They ended up being a liability. But he would be damned if this oversized snake would eat her as a midnight snack.

“What do you see?” Sophie asked.

“A kid.”

“What do we do?” she asked, struggling to get a better look.

“The exact opposite of what your buddy Timothy would do.”

Sophie smiled and watched Overton flip the safety on his rifle off.

“Let’s see if I’m as fast as I used to be,” he said. “Finley, watch the doctor. Bouma, if I’m not back in thirty minutes, proceed to these coordinates,” he said, handing the corporal the map and a compass from his pouch.

“Good luck,” Sophie said, as she watched Overton crawl under the semi and disappear into the darkness.

CHAPTER 16

THE last ray of sun disappeared over the mountains, and Overton’s night vision flickered to life, his HUD transitioning to a ghostly green.

Damn.

Night vision wasn’t much benefit to a middle-aged Marine with deteriorating vision, and tonight it was definitely more of a detriment than a help. He scanned the shoulder of the highway and jumped behind a rock formation. He blinked until the green glow faded and he could make out the objects on the path before him. It wasn’t perfect, but he had enough training with the helmet’s technology to be able to fight almost completely blind. All he really needed was to see the shapes of objects and the heat signatures of anything alive. Everything else was just a distraction.

Overton checked the safety again and shouldered his firearm to survey the blacktop ahead. A small box in the corner of his HUD showed about a quarter klick between him and the parking lot where the alien worm was slugging toward Little Miss Ankle Biter. He was still trying to come up with a name for the girl, but that would suffice for now.

The worm was getting closer, belching out another sack of skin. His stomach lurched. Could it have been one of his squad members?

Don’t go there, Overton.

He paused and studied the remains with his scope before a career of training took over and he took off running down the shoulder of the road. There was no time to hesitate, no time to ask questions, no time to do anything but trust his training. Stealth—and hesitation—was no longer an option if he was going to save this girl. He was going to need to up the ante and the pace, all without attracting the attention of this thing.

Overton zipped in and out among several empty cars and ran past a cluster of orbs, ignoring them. A few feet ahead, the highway turned off and connected with a frontage road. There was a shopping mall shortly behind that, and several adjoining parking lots, all filled with the blue orbs.

He skidded to a halt when he saw it. A second threat. The luminous glow of yet another worm. This one was coiled up like a snake resting after a big meal. And as Overton got a better look, he saw hundreds of skin sacks in the worm’s gooey wake. His stomach lurched again, but he forced the remains of his dinner back down his throat.

Trust your training. You’ve seen worse.

It wasn’t a lie—but then again, it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. He’d never seen anything quite like what he was seeing now. Even a lifetime of training couldn’t prepare him to fight an enemy he had never studied or seen before.

A scratching sound broke out through the silence, and he ducked behind the cover of a black sedan. His armor blended with the car perfectly. Taking to his stomach, he inched out from behind the bumper and scanned the parking lot for contacts.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The sound reminded him of the noise his drill sergeant had made some two decades ago when he refused to use a dry erase board. Instead he would use old-fashioned chalk, and when he had really wanted to piss off the noobs, he’d run his fingernails down the length of the board.

Overton shuddered as the sound broke through the silence again. Now it sounded like a dozen drill sergeants running their nails down a board. And it was coming from all directions.

“What the fuck,” he said under his breath.

He attempted to still his racing heartbeat, taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves. Another deep breath—a glance around the bumper—a glance behind him—another deep breath.

Nothing.

His heart raced. The sound came closer. He spun around and removed his .45 from his holster, laying it down silently on the concrete. Then he grabbed the rifle slung across his back and placed it on the ground, too. Slowly, he dropped to his stomach and crawled under the belly of a pickup truck, pulling his weapons under with him.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape. The sound was almost on top of him now, coming from all directions. But all he could see was the blacktop in front of the vehicle’s tires. He waited, weapons in both hands, trying to slow his breathing.

A pair of spiderlike legs scampered past the front of the pickup, and then another. Seconds later, four more sets of legs had raced by. They appeared to be connected to the same body.

Overton froze. This was no worm—this was something else. He considered crawling out for a better look and hesitated. Images of human-sized spiders popped into his mind, but he shook them away, instead recalling what his drill sergeant had told him.

“In recon you never give away your position when you don’t know what you’re dealing with. You sit, lie, kneel, or hang upside down for as long as it takes to identify the enemy and devise a plan to neutralize it.”

The man had been annoying, and brutally violent with his class in Basic, but Overton had never forgotten what he’d learned from him.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The sound brought his mind back to the blacktop, his eyes darting back and forth. Another set of legs flashed by the truck, and then another. He held his breath as several more zipped past the truck, until finally one stopped. With a blink Overton switched off his night vision and saw them with his own eyes for the first time.

They were a luminous blue, with translucent skin that revealed tiny blue veins crawling up the spiderlike legs. They were oddly jointed, the bend much higher than on any spider he’d seen. Small spikes protruded where a knee should have been. Fuzz lined the bone-thin exterior. There was no foot or paw. Instead there was a black claw the length of his combat knife—the same claw that was making the scratching sounds.

He watched in shock, realizing the high joints on their legs were what allowed them to move so fast. Emotions raced through his mind as he watched them. There was awe and curiosity, but there was also the unfamiliar feeling of fear. There was no way to describe what he was witnessing. Three days ago he would have laughed at anyone who told him they had seen something like this.

He narrowed his eyebrows and squinted to check for the body of whatever was attached to the six legs, but it was still out of sight. There was no way in hell he was going to crawl out to see what it looked like. Instead he waited, trying to hold back a cough from his scratchy throat.

A scream shocked the creature into motion, and with a flash the legs were gone. Overton took a deep breath. He had almost forgotten about the girl, but as her screams grew louder, he knew the Organics were onto her.

With a grunt he suppressed his fear and pulled himself from underneath the vehicle. In less than a second he was running toward the creatures.

He almost halted when he got his first good look at them. There were at least a dozen. And they looked, just as he feared, like spiders. The creatures had stocky torsos and small heads sporting a bone-like mandible rimmed with black, jagged teeth. He couldn’t see any eyes, but he imagined they were focusing on their next snack—Little Miss Ankle Biter.

I fucking hate spiders.

On the top ten list of the things he disliked the most, spiders ranked pretty damned high. Fortunately for the little girl, arachnids were at number two and kids were only at number seven or so. As he ran past the sleeping worm, he realized he was going to have to consider bumping number ten and adding giant alien worms to the list.

He neared the end of the parking lot without attracting attention. The spiders were now far ahead, and closing in on the girl’s location. Overton dug deeper and pushed his legs. The muscles strained and pulled but held strong as he maneuvered between the empty vehicles, trying to hug their frames for cover.

Another scream ripped through the night. His HUD glowed to life with dozens of contacts. He switched off the infrared and skidded to a halt, ducking behind another truck. The worm was two car lengths from the Dumpster the girl was hiding behind. It was working on digesting the last orb between them.

Overton switched his attention to the spiders that were slowly closing in on the girl, their legs clawing through the air as they approached. He counted a total of nine. Not as many as he thought, but still terrible odds.

He had only moments to create a plan. He scanned his gear and saw three electromagnetic concussion grenades hanging off his belt. Without further thought he unclipped one of the grenades and tossed it into the air. The device landed on the concrete with a metallic crack and rolled to a rest a few feet from the worm. He shut off his HUD and tinted his visor to prepare for the vicious blast.

Seconds later it exploded, and a burst of electromagnetic energy tore into the creature’s side. The blue shield vibrated and quickly faded as the wave of energy continued on toward the spiders. Their defenses pulsated and vanished as soon as the blast hit them.

Holy shit.

Overton didn’t hesitate when he realized what was happening. He jumped forward, squeezed the hard trigger of his pulse rifle, and watched the hot plasma shred the worm. The creature shrieked in pain and rose into the air, thousands of miniature arms clawing helplessly.

He fired another volley of shots and the belly of the creature exploded, sending blue goo and watery blood in all directions. It wiggled back and forth violently, sending out a wave of gore that covered Overton.

Click.

The terrifying sound of an empty magazine echoed in his helmet. He turned to see the spiders racing toward him just as the worm fell to the ground in a lump of blue guts and slime. There was no time to reload; they would be on him in seconds.

He dropped the rifle to the ground and retrieved his pistol. With only nine .45 shells, he couldn’t afford to miss.

The first shot sent one of the spiders tumbling into the darkness.

Crack, crack, crack.

Overton fired off a volley of shots instinctively, sending another three of the creatures to their graves. The deafening mix of what sounded like high-frequency growls and gunshots made it difficult for him to concentrate. The spiders circled around him, closing in, their legs clawing at him from a distance.

His heart pounded in his chest, a steady flow of adrenaline pumping through his arteries. He remembered his training and fired at the closest creature. Its head exploded in a spray of blue mist, and the legs collapsed beneath it.

At least these things are easy to kill, he thought, scanning for his next target.

Four left.

One lunged for his armor, shredding his right shoulder with its enormous claw. He winced in pain before bringing the butt of his pistol down onto the creature’s head and stomping it into a puddle of gore.

He gritted his teeth and another two shots rang out, ending the life of two more aliens.

One left.

Overton took one knee and fired, but the pain from his shoulder threw off his aim, and the bullet ricocheted off the concrete beneath the spider’s legs.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The sound filled his helmet, sending a chill down his back. “Go to hell, you fucking bastard,” he yelled as the creature’s mandibles opened and its teeth reached for his face.

He closed his left eye, lined the metal sight up with the spider’s head, and fired. The bullet tore into its open mouth, blowing bits of mangled eyeball into the night as its limp body collided with his. They fell to the ground in a tangled mess of blue goo, guts, and blood.

Overton grunted. Pain from his shoulder raced down his arm as he pushed the dead alien off of him. He didn’t need to see the wound to know it was deep. He was in trouble.

He forced himself off the ground and jammed another magazine into his pulse rifle. With a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and sprinted toward the Dumpster where the girl was still cowering in the darkness.

As his lips moved to form words, he realized it was pointless. He didn’t have time for formalities, or to convince the girl to come with him. With a swift motion he threw the strap of his rifle over his back and reached down to pick her up with his good arm.

She stared back at him blankly. The girl was clearly in shock. He attached her arms around his neck, put his hand under her butt, and took off in a sprint toward the highway.

“Start that engine, Bouma,” he whispered into his com. His chest heaved in and out, his labored breath filling the open channel with short bursts of static.

“Roger, Sergeant. We are tracking your location now. Over.”

Overton risked a glance over his shoulder to ensure none of the spiders were tailing him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the motionless pile of luminous gore. Once killed, they stayed dead. Which meant humanity might have a fighting chance after all.

He took a sharp right down the highway toward the hill. With a blink, his display flickered back to life, and he could make out three heat signatures about a half a mile away.

Almost there—almost safe.

He ignored the whimpering girl, refusing to comfort her. His objective was to get her back to the Biosphere safely, not to console her. But as the child’s tiny arms tightened around his neck, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of empathy.

He ignored it and continued to run, his pace slowly diminishing as the lactic acid filled his muscles. His labored breathing became more intense. He could feel his heart thumping inside its bone prison. A few steps farther and it was going to attempt a jail break.

He slowed to a stop, panting to catch his breath.

A short burst of static broke over the com. “Sir, we have contact on your six,” Finley said.

Overton shot a glance over his shoulder to see a drone hovering over the skyline of downtown Colorado Springs. He was already running before the high-frequency pitch of the craft could penetrate his ears. His legs were screaming, the muscles enflamed with pain. But he pushed himself, ignoring it all.

Back at the semi-trailer, Sophie watched two heat signatures slowly creep across her display. Her eyes darted back up to the horizon, where the drone was gliding through the night.

“They aren’t going to make it,” she said, rising to her feet. “We need to go to them.”

“Negative, Dr. Winston. Orders are to stay put,” Bouma replied.

“I don’t give a shit. They aren’t going to make it!”

“Stay put, Dr. Winston. That’s an order,” Overton said over the open com.

Sophie looked for the outline of the Jeep. It was about a minute’s run. Based off the trajectory of the craft in the top left of her HUD, that was just enough time to get to the Jeep and intercept Overton and the girl. With a blink she switched the com from an open frequency and changed it to direct.

“Private Finley, Corporal Bouma, I want you to provide covering fire if the drone catches up with them.”

They nodded, and she snapped into a sprint. Sixty-five seconds later she was twisting the key in the ignition and listening to the engine groan to life. She threw it into first gear and squealed toward the semi, zigzagging in and out of the maze of empty vehicles.

By the time she reached the shoulder of the road, there were tracers of plasma ripping through the night. Either the trajectory calculated by her HUD had been wrong, or the ship had sped up. Either way, it was catching up to them.

She took a hard left, and the oversized Jeep tires tore onto the gravel shoulder, rocks crunching under their weight. She punched the gas. The momentum was just enough to push the Jeep off the small strip around the truck. A cloud of gravel shot out from behind the tires as Sophie maneuvered the vehicle back onto the highway. In the distance, the drone immediately filled her HUD with a luminous, ghostly green glow.

The cracks from Finley’s and Bouma’s pulse rifles filled the night, and for a second Sophie had to marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Only days before she had been ready to begin one of the most important scientific missions in modern history. Now she was battling an alien invasion.

The drone let out a high-frequency shriek and she narrowly avoided crashing into the back of a sedan. She pulled the wheel hard to the left and gave the engine more gas, racing toward the heat signatures of Overton and the child.

With another blink she switched the com back to open. “Prepare for evac, Sergeant. I’m coming in fast!”

A short burst of static and what sounded like a groan filled her earpiece. She smiled; it was Overton’s way of saying thanks.

Sophie peered back up through the windshield and saw that the craft was almost on top of them, a bright beam tracing their movements down the blacktop. In seconds it would have them in its grip.

Another volley of plasma rounds tore through the darkness, but the drone dove hard to the left. Sophie risked a glance over her shoulder, frantically scanning the vehicle for something, anything she could use. And then she saw it—the tip of the missile launcher Overton had used to save her life.

She slammed her boot down on the brakes, and the Jeep fishtailed, stopping a mere inches from the side of another truck. Throwing the Jeep into park, she spun around, retrieved the missile launcher from under the backseat, and jumped out onto the street.

The drone released another high-frequency sound wave, bringing Overton to his knees. Sophie watched the girl tumble onto the concrete. But this time her own ears were prepared, and the medicated aids Alexia had given her mitigated some of the noise.

She took to one knee and examined the launcher. Without any formal training, firing the weapon was going to be dangerous, but she had to try. Raising it to her shoulder, she looked through the scope and watched the crosshairs link up with her HUD through the wireless connection.

Simple enough, she thought, steadying the weapon.

In the middle of her display, the red targeting system emerged. The craft zigzagged across the sky, making it difficult for her to get a shot. She waited patiently, stilling her breathing and massaging the trigger. When the display lit up with a blinking lock symbol, she clicked off the safety, pulled the hard metal of the trigger, and braced herself as the rocket exploded out of the tube. She watched it streak across the dark sky before bursting into a green static across her display.

Blinking, she staggered, the brightness momentarily blinding her. By the time she regained vision, Overton was standing in front of her, holding the young girl in his arms once more.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s get the fuck out of here!” he yelled.

Sophie paused to look at the liquid seeping out of his shoulder. She didn’t need to turn off her night vision to know it was blood.

“Take shotgun; I’m driving,” she said, glancing behind her to make sure the craft was gone. Nothing but the dark skyline of Colorado Springs showed up on her HUD. Relieved, she sucked in some filtered air, jumped in the front seat, and punched the gas with a swift kick from her armored boot.

But to her dismay, the tires didn’t squeal out. The engine didn’t groan to life. The truck was dead. She quickly looked around at the graveyard of other vehicles for another ride and remembered the empty gas tanks. They were stranded. And on the horizon was another pair of drones that had come to avenge their friend.

CHAPTER 17

ENTRY 0064

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

I HAVE been running diagnostics on the Biosphere the entire night. The door has now been opened for a third time with the departure of Dr. Winston and the three Marines. In the past twelve hours I have detected over fifteen foreign substances in Biome 1, twenty-nine in Biome 2, eleven in Biome 3, and forty-one in Biome 4. They are a result of several factors. First, the cleansing chamber does not always pick up every alien material. Further, the Marines did not remove their clothing when entering the Biosphere for the first time. Their gear, fatigues, and weapons all carried a considerable number of toxins.

I have been able to track down and destroy all but three of the substances without shutting down individual biomes. The magnitude of the damage to the air-filtration system is still being determined by one of the diagnostic tests, but I should be able to salvage it.

Dr. Brown has inquired as to the importance of limiting foreign substances. My response was what any scientist would say—in order for the Biosphere to function properly, it must be free of any toxins that may compromise the mission. The garden, for example, could become infested with a parasite that potentially threatens an entire crop. With the mission already in peril, it is imperative that I prevent any more toxins from threatening the biomes, especially the pond and garden.

A sensor in the med ward returns my attention to Mr. Yool. His vitals are improving, but his kidneys are severely damaged. I’ve put him on dialysis for the time being, until they can repair themselves. His skin has regained some of its color, but he is still emaciated.

I update his chances of survival to 49 percent.

In the command center, Mr. Roberts surveys a wall full of monitors. The feed to Dr. Winston and the Marines was lost hours ago, but he watches the screens contently nonetheless. His focus seems to be primarily on Camera 1 outside the blast doors. His facial expressions indicate worry, stress, and anxiety. I presume he is expecting more visitors.

A second sensor goes off in as many minutes. This one is not within the Biosphere. It is coming from the hangar at the entrance of the facility. I zoom in with Camera 2. The brightly lit hangar is empty save for one of the Humvees that Corporal Bouma drove into the bay earlier. A fluorescent light flickers, and another sensor goes off. This time it is a motion sensor. Protocol would be to notify Dr. Brown, since technically Dr. Rodriguez is disabled and she is next in the chain of command, but I am not convinced the sensor is picking up actual movement. A faulty device is more likely. There is no need to alarm Dr. Brown or Mr. Roberts. They are both under extreme amounts of stress, and I do not want to instigate unnecessary panic.

After 5.4 seconds of diagnostic testing, I conclude the motion sensor has shorted out due to electrical failure. I will send an automated bot to repair it shortly.

I finish decrypting the video message Dr. Hoffman sent, in hopes that the end of the message will play. The attempt is futile. The presentation still ends on, “You must go—” Next, I enter the three words into my filtering system. 1,151 possibilities return of what he may have been trying to communicate. If I were human, I would do one of two things to express frustration: flare my nostrils or take in a deep breath. They are both common reactions I’ve seen in Dr. Winston and Sergeant Overton, the leaders of the facility.

But I am not human. I am a machine, the most sophisticated machine intelligence on the planet. 3.1 seconds later, I have narrowed the results down to two of the most realistic possibilities. The first is, “You must go to Secundo Casu,” and the second is, “You must go on with the Biosphere mission.”

Neither is very reassuring. Dr. Hoffman helped design me, and I know how dangerous it is to attempt to finish his sentences. But they are the most realistic results my system has returned. When Dr. Winston gets back, I will run them by her.

The motion sensor in the hangar goes off again. Camera 2 is still showing no signs of contact. I quickly program the AB and send it to fix the sensor.

Ten minutes and thirty seconds later, the AB arrives in the open bay. It stops at the concrete wall, deploys six spiderlike metal legs, and begins to crawl up to the sensor. The wireless link built into the bot’s hard drive sends me the diagnostics. To my surprise there is no electrical disturbance. No faulty wire. There is, in fact, nothing wrong with the sensor at all.

The AB crawls back down the wall, retracts its legs, and zips back down the passage toward its storage bay. I watch it disappear into the darkness with Camera 2. But something else shows up on the video feed—something my systems do not recognize, something with a faint blue glow.

I switch the feed to infrared and pick up a heat signature. Then another. The wireless link in the camera downloads the signatures to my radar, showing exactly nine red blips. The audio is now picking something up. I amplify it and run a diagnostic on the sounds.

The noises convert into waves that crawl across the screen as the program scans the sporadic bursts for the most likely animal capable of creating such a sound. Seconds later an image begins to appear on another one of the monitors in the control room, far from Mr. Roberts’s view. I zoom in and watch millions of pixels coming together to show what looks like a spider.

The image solidifies and a line of data runs across the bottom of the screen.

One hundred pounds . . . Organic . . . Liquid composition . . .

The results can’t be correct. No such insect exists in my database. Not even in the radioactive Wastelands. I run the diagnostic again and the same results are returned.

Fascinating.

Whatever the entities are, they have entered the facility but have not infiltrated the Biosphere. As the sounds fade, so do the radar blips. I pause for less than a second to consider protocol. Another test, and I’ve determined their trajectory.

It is 99.9 percent likely they are headed toward Biome 2, the Biosphere’s water supply. I do not need to run a test to know it is time to notify Dr. Brown.

Timothy cleared his throat. He was agitated—more so than normal—and his tics had gotten worse. He concentrated on his right eye, closing it for several seconds, waiting for the twitch to go away. Then he slowly opened the lid and widened his eyes.

Twitch. Twitch.

“Shit!” he yelled, stomping his foot on the concrete ground.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Roberts?” Alexia asked, her image appearing on a console in the center of the command room.

“Nothing, mind your own business, holo-girl,” he replied with a snarky grin.

“Very well, Mr. Roberts.”

“Wait, wait!” he yelled, watching her image begin to flicker and fade.

“Yes?” she asked politely.

“Have you heard anything from Sophie or the Marines?”

“No, Mr. Roberts. I lost contact when they reached Latitude 38—”

“I don’t care what location they were at when you lost contact, I want to know where they are now,” he said, drawing out the final word into a whine.

“I apologize, sir, but I do not have access to that information. The magnetic disturbance is preventing any long-distance audio and video feeds.”

Timothy shook his head and slouched in the plush office chair, putting his feet up on the metallic desk. Reaching into a plastic bag, he retrieved a single sunflower seed and popped it into his mouth. He bit down and separated the seed from the shell. His tongue flicked the seed to one side of his mouth. As he prepared to bite into the tiny morsel, his eye twitched again.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, spitting both the seed and shell into the air.

The sound of the room’s sliding glass door opening distracted him for a moment. He craned his neck, nearly falling out of his chair as Holly raced into the room.

“We have a situation,” she said frantically, her eyes wide.

Timothy looked past her and saw Owen cowering behind her legs.

“What type of situation?” he asked, his twitch becoming more rapid.

The console in the center of the room once again glowed and Alexia’s image flickered to life.

“We have contacts in the tunnel connecting the hangar to the Biosphere facility,” she said.

Timothy stiffened. “What do you mean, contacts?”

“Motion sensors in the hangar picked up several entities moving at a high rate of speed several minutes ago,” Alexia replied.

“Wait a second. You were in here not”—Timothy paused to look down at his wristwatch—“Not one minute ago, and you didn’t think to tell me about this situation?”

“Protocol is to inform the team leader first,” Alexia said in her smooth voice.

Timothy put his face into his palms and then yanked it back out, rubbing his twitching eye violently. “What do we do?”

“The Biosphere facility has not been breached, but trajectories put the contacts at the entrance to the facility in three minutes and forty seven seconds.”

Holly reached behind her and pulled Owen toward her side. “We need to hide,” she said, trying not to frighten the boy.

“Like hide and seek? Maybe we should ask Owen here how to play. He seems to be pretty good at it,” Timothy said.

Holly raised her hand. “Stop it! Just stop it! I need you to get it together, Timothy.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Timothy replied.

She shook her head. “Where’s Emanuel? Maybe he will have an idea.”

“One moment,” Alexia said, her image flickering over the console. “Dr. Rodriguez is in Biome 1, checking the progress of the seeds.”

“That’s the closest one to the entrance; there’s no way we can get to him in time on foot. Alexia, you have to warn him,” Holly insisted.

The AI’s hologram faded and her voice transferred to the com. “Protocol is to head to the medical ward at the farthest end of the Biosphere. The room can be locked down remotely and has thick concrete and lead walls. It is by far the safest in terms of an emergency situation. However, Dr. Rodriguez is in no condition to cover that distance in the two minutes and thirteen seconds it will take for the contacts to enter the facility.”

“You have to warn him,” Holly pleaded.

“One moment, Dr. Brown,” Alexia said. An instant later her image remerged on the console, her blank robotic expression staring back at them. “I have informed Dr. Rodriguez of the situation and he is taking the appropriate measures. Please make your way to the medical ward immediately.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Timothy said. He hurried past Holly and Owen, hesitating on his way out the door. “Well, what are you waiting for, a formal invitation?”

CHAPTER 18

SERGEANT Overton winced as Sophie massaged a white chemical gel into his open wound.

“This part’s going to hurt,” she said.

He gritted his teeth and, as he waited for the pain to race down his arm, watched the two drones searching the city below. They zigzagged over the empty city streets, scanning for life. Scanning for them.

He knew because he would be doing the same thing. His entire career had been spent in recon. When the time came for promotions, he turned them all down. He didn’t care about money or rank. Most of his money went to child support anyway, and his dress uniform was already filled with medals. His passion was for the fight—for the heat of the battle, for the scent of the enemy. It was what he lived for.

But now he was the one being hunted. A familiar knot grew in his stomach, and he winced as the gel finally cauterized his wound through an invisible chemical reaction.

“We need to find cover. Radio silence from here on out. We don’t know if they are listening. Keep that girl quiet,” he ordered.

With two short motions, he waved the team away from the Jeep and into the tree-lined hills. The silhouettes of the trees appeared in eerie green across his display, like toy soldiers protecting the ridgeline.

For an hour they trekked through the forest, heading farther and farther from civilization. The coordinates were farther away than he had thought, reminding him he hadn’t done any true orienteering in years. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had only a map, a compass, and a set of coordinates instead of some sort of GPS device.

To further complicate things, the silence of the night was alarming. It distracted him. He’d never been in such a dead zone before. Even the animals had disappeared. If Sophie was right, then they had probably been turned into Kool-Aid as well.

Overton balled his hand into a fist and halted. He strained his ears; the nothingness was ghostly. Gone were the hum of machines and the familiar sound of chirping insects. Vanished were the agitating sirens that plagued the violent cities. The silence was unnatural.

Deep down, a part of him wished it was all a dream, that the wail of a police car would tear through the night or the thump of the blades from an NTC helicopter would sound overhead. But he was a Marine, and he knew the truth of the situation.

We are alone.

Overton shot an advance signal to Finley. The private took the lead, sprinting up the hill, chunks of dirt and loose pinecones kicking up behind him. The darkness quickly consumed him, his heat signature fading from Overton’s HUD until it was gone altogether.

Bouma carried the girl on his back, and Sophie followed close behind. Overton squinted and saw that the girl was fast asleep. That, or she was unconscious from the trauma she had been through earlier. Either way, he was glad she was keeping her tiny mouth shut. He knew better than anyone that kids could scream much louder than they appeared capable of. If he had learned one thing from his short time with his own two boys, it was to never underestimate a child.

A boom tore through the silence, and Overton quickly forgot what he had been thinking about. He stole a glance over his shoulder to see one of the drones zip across the dark horizon. He pressed on, digging his boots into the hillside, moving deeper into the black abyss of the forest. They were getting close to a frontage road, almost to the coordinates, but they still hadn’t seen any sign of the beacon—no building or installation. There was a short gap where he could see the entrance to what had to be Turkey Canyon Road. Finley was crouched at the edge, his outline still and stoic in the darkness. It only took Overton and the others a minute to cover the distance between them.

“All right, I think we’re in the clear for now,” he said, patting Finley on his armored shoulder. “See anything?”

“Negative, sir. No contacts, at least, but there appears to be some sort of structure about a half a mile down the road.”

Overton climbed up the short dirt hill and crouched onto the mix of dirt and gravel. Sure enough, there was a chimney jutting out of the trees to the east. He pulled the map from his pouch again and double-checked the coordinates with his compass. The house had to be the source of the signal. Not exactly what he was expecting, but considering the events of the past week, nothing was a surprise anymore. One-hundred-foot-long translucent alien worms, for example.

“All right, let’s move,” he said.

The sound of rocks crunching under his boots echoed in his helmet. He was glad to hear something, anything, to distract him from the silence. Even the invasion of Puerto Rico hadn’t been this bad.

The metallic green outline of the chimney appeared on his display as he rounded the corner. Whoever had built this house did not want it seen from the road.

He approached cautiously, his rifle aimed into the darkness. The house was a few yards away behind the pines, and there was no obvious path to get to it. Twigs and branches snapped under the weight of his boots as he entered the brush. He halted, blinking once, twice to enhance the optics of his night vision. Seeing the path was still clear, he continued, the ghostly green glow growing brighter with every step.

A slight opening broke through the trees. He could vaguely make out the metal skin of the house.

He paused in the gap of the tree line. They might have stumbled upon a prepper, which could be extremely dangerous. Many of his friends had retired from the Marines and bought a plot of land off the grid. They had rigged their houses with booby-traps to prepare for what they believed were the end days. But that didn’t explain the signal. How would a prepper have access to an encrypted NTC emergency channel?

He sprinted to the side of the house and slumped against the metal siding. His eyes darted back and forth, checking the area before he advanced to the entrance.

“Don’t fucking move, soldier!” a voice shouted from above him.

Overton froze, his finger clenching the trigger of his pulse rifle.

“I’m a friendly,” he said, opting to leave his team out of the equation.

“That’s what the last guy said. You can find his head on a post about a quarter mile down the road.”

“I’m Sergeant Ash Overton, United States Marine Corps First Recon Battalion. I’m not here to hurt you or take what you have. Our AI picked up a distress signal from this location.”

Silence once again filled the night, but Overton didn’t move.

“You’re a long way from Camp Pendleton, Marine.”

“Recon mission, sir. Got caught in the midst of something much bigger.”

“No fucking shit. Did you find any civvies down there?”

“Yes, sir. One. A little girl,” he said, hoping the man would be empathetic.

“How old?”

Overton scowled.

What do I look like, a fucking doctor?

“She’s no older than five, sir.”

“And I’m guessing she’s with your squad. How many total?”

“Two Marines and an NTC scientist, plus the girl, sir.”

“An NTC scientist, you say? You sure?”

The question struck him as odd, but he answered, “Damned sure.”

Another pause. The hum of silence filled Overton’s helmet. He cringed, the knot in his stomach getting worse. A combination of smoking and drinking had more than likely caused another ulcer.

He waited for a response.

“Don’t make me regret this, Sergeant. Gather your team and meet me on the south side of my house in five.”

Overton slowly took his finger off the trigger and swung the rifle over his shoulder, not daring to look up at the rooftop, where he guessed the man had been camped out. He turned and took off in a sprint back to his team. For some reason he had a bad feeling about this guy, but at this point, he knew they had no other choice but to trust him.

A combination of beeps and chirps from Saafi’s cryo chamber filled the medical ward with an annoying melody. Holly sat on a white bench in the corner of the room, holding Owen in her lap. She ran her hand through his thick mop of hair and watched Saafi’s chest rise up and down through the clear panels of his medical coffin.

Nearby, Timothy paced back and forth like a caged animal, his eye twitching rapidly. Holly ignored him, refusing to acknowledge him in the slightest way. She was at her wit’s end, and couldn’t handle much more of his antics. Holly felt something inside of her twist at the admission of the truth—that not even her PhD in psychology had been enough to prepare her for his irrational behavior. It was hard to swallow, but she knew that she was allowed to have a breaking point.

Timothy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “How long have they been gone? It’s been too long; something must have happened. Alexia, have you detected any movements inside the Biosphere? Can those things get in? They’re going to get in, aren’t they? We have to hide. Is Emanuel hiding? Where is he?”

His words were a random assortment of thoughts that Alexia found difficult to process. Every time she attempted to answer one question, he would present another.

“Mr. Roberts, I have not detected any—”

“Maybe they’re after the pond. Yeah. That makes total sense,” he said, a somewhat deranged grin spreading across his face.

“After analyzing the current data and the hypothesis presented by Dr. Winston, I would conclude your assumption is reasonable, Mr. Roberts.”

“So they are coming for our water supply!”

Before he knew it Holly was standing in front of him. Her eyes were hard. “You’re scaring Owen,” she said calmly.

Timothy glanced behind her, acknowledging Owen’s presence for the first time since they had entered the medical ward. And for a second, something inside him clicked—something changed. His eyes lit up, and he strolled past Holly toward the young boy.

He crouched to pick the boy’s blanket off the ground, handing it to him. “How did you hide from them?”

Owen looked at the man sleepily. His chubby cheeks were a flushed rosy red.

“I want my daddy,” he choked, tears streaking down his face.

Holly paced over to the bench and sat down next to him, eyeing Timothy suspiciously. “It’s okay, Owen, we’ll look for your daddy when the soldiers get back,” she said. The boy buried his head in her arms and began to whimper softly.

Timothy reached for Owen’s small hand and tapped it cautiously. “Owen, you have to tell us how you hid from them, because we’re going to need to play that game again.”

The boy peeked one eye out and observed Timothy’s face for a few seconds before he jammed his face back into the safety of Holly’s arms.

“Leave him be,” she whispered, running her hand through his hair again.

“Maybe he knows a way to evade them. Maybe he knows a way to escape,” Timothy insisted.

Holly’s mouth opened, but she paused as Alexia’s voice sounded over the com.

“Movement detected in the offices outside the Biosphere facility. Detecting several heat signatures in the briefing room. Switching to Camera 6. Stand by for video footage.”

Timothy jumped up and raced to the monitor hanging on the wall over Saafi’s cryo chamber. It flickered to life, revealing the NTC briefing room. The lighting was dim, with only a faint blue glow present in the corner of the room.

“Enhance image,” he requested.

The camera zoomed in and the blue light amplified. He compressed his eyebrows and squinted, desperately trying to make out the shape of the intruder. But all he saw was darkness.

“I don’t see anything, Alexia!” he said frantically.

“Scanning.”

The sound of Saafi’s chirping monitors filled the room once more before the com blared back to life. “Signatures appear to be heading into the ductwork.”

“Zoom in,” Timothy said, moving aside so Holly could see the screen.

“There,” she said pointing. “Angle the camera toward the back corner near the podium.”

They watched the view slowly rotate. The blue glow increased as the camera moved into position.

Holly felt a tug on her pants from behind, and she turned to see Owen staring up at her. “Can I see?”

In the second it took for her to consider his request, she watched Timothy’s face go pale. His eye stopped twitching, and the tablet he was holding dropped to the floor. The sound of the device’s screen cracking reached her ears an instant before Owen’s screams. She didn’t need to see the video footage to know what they both had seen, but she forced herself to look anyways.

Climbing through a hole in the tile ceiling was a luminous creature—a monster with six thin legs, a round, stocky torso, and a small head with mandibles full of jagged teeth. As the spiderlike thing pulled itself into the ceiling, it glanced at the camera. For a moment it looked like it was staring right at them with its eight malformed eyes, right before it opened its jaws and emitted a high-frequency scream. Then it was gone, vanishing into the duct.

Holly forced herself away from the screen. She grabbed Owen and led him to the bench as calmly as possible. Crouching down to his eye level, she rested her palms on his narrow shoulders. “Owen, you have to be strong. You have to tell us how you hid from those things, okay? Can you do that for us?”

The boy looked up at them, sniffling. “You can’t hide from them. They’ll find you. They always find you.”

Sophie slipped into the brightly lit house behind Overton. She removed her helmet and peered up at the high ceilings, admiring the metal beams zigzagging across the living room. The entrance branched two ways, with a hallway leading to the rest of the first floor and a staircase leading to a second floor.

A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair stood at the entrance to the hallway, scanning his guests through a pair of black shades. At his side was an evil-looking submachine gun with a banana clip extending halfway down his right leg.

He waited for Finley and Bouma to enter the house before he strolled over and closed the massive oak door behind them.

Overton took a step forward, offering his hand. “Thanks for sheltering us, sir. I’m guessing you’re the one who sent out that distress beacon?”

The man ignored the question, instead shaking Overton’s hand with a strong grip. “Welcome,” he said in a flat, monotone voice. “The name’s Luke, and this . . .” He waved his other hand, indicating his house. “This is my modern bunker.”

When he let go, he reached for his glasses and stuffed them in the breast pocket of his tan army fatigues.

“Forgive me for my earlier behavior. It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen or heard from anyone. When those things first showed up, a few people escaped undetected. Mostly kids, but a few adults who found shelter. One of them caused me some grief, but I took care of him,” he said, glancing down at his firearm.

“What do you mean when you said they went ‘undetected’?” Sophie asked.

“Are you the NTC scientist?”

“Yes. Dr. Sophie Winston,” she replied, offering her hand.

“Well then, you should know, Doctor. Those things are here for our water. When they first came, they used some sort of device to suck the surface water up into their ships. I saw it myself; watched the sky turn a weird turquoise blue from my rooftop before I retreated into my granite bunker. It was the oddest thing I’ve ever seen, like it was raining but in the opposite direction. When I emerged, I investigated the frontage road and found one of those spheres. Inside was my neighbor, Hal Greene. I’m no biologist, but I put two and two together and figured they aren’t just here for surface water. They are here to exterminate us.”

Sophie stepped forward and looked the man directly in his hazel eyes. “Actually—and I mean this with all due respect—they aren’t here to exterminate us in the sense you may think. They aren’t just after our surface water. They’re after the water inside of us.”

Luke’s eyes widened and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Shit. It all makes sense, then.”

Bouma stepped forward with the girl sleeping peacefully in his arms. “How did you go undetected?”

Luke shrugged. “My bunker leads into granite caves deep beneath this house.”

Sophie eyed the man suspiciously. Her gut was sending the same warning feelings she’d had before, indicating something was amiss—that the man was leaving out some important details. She studied him intently. His face and his monotone voice were both oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“Perhaps they aren’t able to penetrate granite with their scanners?” the man offered.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll find a way. Once they pillage the rest of the surface and track down every living thing with an ounce of H_2O inside of it,” Sophie replied.

“But that still doesn’t explain how you’ve managed to avoid them,” said Finley, his eyebrows raised. “We ran into two drones in the few hours we were outside. Not to mention that we haven’t seen a single living person besides this girl.”

Luke caught Finley’s gaze and shied away from it, pacing across the length of the room. “You really want to know?” he asked, craning his neck and scanning the faces of Sophie and her team one by one. “Then follow me,” he said, motioning them with his machine gun toward a narrow metal door just beyond the hallway.

Overton jammed an unlit cigarette into his mouth and winked at Sophie. “Ladies first,” he said, with a grin just wide enough to keep the cigarette from falling out.

She wrinkled her nose and followed their host through the door and down a long, steep flight of stairs. After what felt like hundreds of steps, they emerged into a dim cave. Candles dripped wax down the black walls, and shadows danced across the passage.

Sophie froze, listening intently to the sounds of the cavern. She waited for a few agonizing moments but heard nothing except the distant trickle of water and the shuffling of footsteps. A strong pat on the shoulder startled her.

“Something spook you?” Overton asked.

She ignored the question and strained her ears for another few seconds before following him into the shadows. They had to have been over fifty feet beneath the surface, and she was getting more nervous with every step. Things simply didn’t add up. Something about Luke made her feel uneasy—something about his robotic voice and small, hazel eyes.

She didn’t trust him, but she didn’t know why.

And although she had delegated security details to Overton, she couldn’t help the impulse to micromanage. As she glanced at the sleeping girl, her long-buried maternal instincts stirred. She’d always been a little disdainful of her colleagues who dropped out of the field to have kids. After meeting Emanuel, she’d started to come around to the idea, but somehow it had never been the right time. The distance between them, new projects, and her own insecurities had conspired against the both of them.

With a sigh, she reached out to brush the girl’s hair from her face.

Sophie didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not yet—not until she could guarantee the girl’s safety, something she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to do. The thought frustrated her. She could only imagine what the poor child had already gone through. The possibilities sent a wave of grief through her tired body. She ignored it and continued on, stopping only momentarily to hand her helmet to Finley so she could pull her frizzled hair back into a ponytail.

“Keep an eye on that guy,” she whispered to the young Marine.

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

They rounded a corner, and the passage widened into a chamber about fifty meters across. It was divided into two sections. One appeared to be some sort of living quarters, with several bunk beds resting against the jagged rock walls. Next to the beds were two chemical toilets cordoned off by a few carelessly hung sheets.

Not exactly keen on privacy, Sophie thought.

In the corner was a pyramid of boxes labeled MREs and several crates of bottled water. The area looked to be mostly unused. What was even odder was the fact the space was built to shelter more than one person. Where were the others?

“This way,” he said from a few paces ahead.

The team passed into the smaller part of the chamber. In the center of the room sat a large wooden table and a red leather couch. Not exactly what Sophie had expected. Lining the walls were dozens of monitors sitting atop portable metal desks.

Sophie approached the computers. The setup was complex. Sophisticated. Not the type of hardware the average person had lying around.

“Don’t touch anything,” Luke cautioned. “Give me a second, and I’ll explain everything.” He strolled over to Bouma. “Why don’t you put her to bed on the couch?”

Overton gave the slightest of nods, and Bouma laid the girl down and draped her with a tan blanket.

“This way,” Luke said in the same monotone voice.

“Mind if Private Finley here pulls sentry duty?” Overton asked.

Luke halted and cocked his head, looking first at Finley and then back at the sergeant.

“No point in doing it down here; the door’s secured from the entrance of the house. But if you think that it’s necessary I would post him on the second floor.” He turned his attention to Finley. “Remember that staircase when you came in?”

“Yes.”

“Take that to the second floor and then make your first right. The office has a perfect view of the frontage road. You’ll be able to see any contacts long before they see you.”

The young Marine looked at Overton, who gave the command. “Get it done.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, taking off back the way they’d come.

“Anything else, Sergeant?” Luke asked.

“No. Carry on,” he said, watching the man sit down at one of the computer terminals.

“So, as I was about to say, when I was a younger man I founded a tech startup. My business was in magnets.” He paused to glance quickly at Sophie before continuing. “Long story short, I sold the company five years ago for a sum just shy of a billion dollars. I spent a few years traveling the world and then settled here on this modest property,” he said pointing to the low ceilings of the cave. “I did so because I wanted a place to further my research, and the granite caves provided me the perfect opportunity.”

Luke spun in his chair and swiped one of the monitors with his fingers. A hologram shot out of a console next to Overton. Hovering over the module was a single blue image. At first glance, it reminded Sophie of the old communication satellites that had speckled Earth’s orbit before the solar storms wiped them all out. But, as the image enhanced, she could tell it was something different—something much more sophisticated.

“Meet Starbuck,” Luke said, smiling proudly. “She’s the most advanced magnet ever designed. I built her to help mitigate the effect of solar storms.”

Sophie nearly gasped, finally realizing what had made her so uneasy about Luke. She had met him before, in a meeting years ago with NTC. They were the ones who had bought his technology, but Dr. Hoffman had later scrapped the project for confidential reasons. It all made sense. That was why he had access to the encrypted NTC emergency channel.

“Yes, that’s right, Dr. Winston. I’m Luke Williard, the former CEO of Solar Mitigation Technologies,” he said, studying the look on her face.

Overton wasn’t the brightest Marine in his squad, but he was smart enough to recognize what was going on immediately. Luke didn’t need them to rescue him—he needed Sophie. He needed NTC. But why?

Fuck.

The Marine didn’t like what was unfolding. He slowly removed his cigarette and stuffed it back into his breast pocket. He didn’t want any distractions if he had to take Luke out.

“I remember you now,” she said, stepping forward to study the holographic image. She had seen a blueprint of a similar design and recalled the device was, surprisingly, no larger than a car tire. The amount of energy it emitted, however, required that it be sealed inside a heavily fortified shell lined with lead. It was similar to some of the giant magnets she’d worked with in the past, but a fraction of their size.

“I presume you didn’t just ‘stumble’ across my bunker, now did you, Dr. Winston?” Luke said coyly. He turned his attention back to the computer screen. Then he reached for his glasses and balanced them on his nose before proceeding to swipe the screen again. The image over the console faded and vanished. Seconds later a new image flickered to life. It was the outline of his house. And around it appeared to be some sort of oval-shaped screen.

“What you are looking at is an invisible shield surrounding the property. I’ve used electromagnetic energy to effectively sustain a wave of energy that camouflages anything within a square mile of here.” Luke scanned the faces of Bouma and Overton, who stared back at him blankly.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but in essence—”

“You’re using their technology against them,” Sophie said, interrupting Luke midsentence.

“Precisely, Dr. Winston. In 2056 I was contracted by NTC to study the electromagnetic disturbance that fed the solar storms. It was when we discovered them that we also discovered this technology.”

Bouma’s face turned bright red. “You fucking knew about the Organics this entire time?”

Luke looked at him for a split second before scowling. “Of course NTC has known all this time. There are thousands of people that knew this was coming.”

Overton shook his head at the corporal, effectively ordering him to back off without uttering a word.

“As I was saying, NTC contracted me to work on building this technology long after I had sold them the rights to my company. But then, two years ago, Dr. Hoffman decided it was no longer a valuable investment for them,” he said with another scowl.

Sophie froze in place. Everything was beginning to make sense now. The Biosphere mission. The invasion. NTC’s plans had been in motion for years. How had she been so naive? And why had she been left in the dark for so long?

Frustrated, she shook the questions from her mind and stepped closer to the monitors. “Tell me everything you know about the Organics,” she said, her business voice kicking in.

Luke folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. “You better take a seat, Dr. Winston. We may be here for a while.”

CHAPTER 19

I WANT my blanket,” the boy screamed.

“We have to get him to calm down!” Timothy shouted.

“You need to calm down, too,” Holly whispered back, impatiently. She stooped to pick up the boy’s blanket, quickly handing it to him.

“Contacts in Biome 1,” Alexia said over the com. Her voice repeated the statement over and over.

Holly thought briefly of Emanuel. She desperately wished he were there—that he was by her side instead of Timothy—but he wasn’t, and she needed to be strong for Owen’s sake.

“We have to move,” Timothy choked out, frantically scanning the medical ward for a nook, a cabinet, anywhere he could jam his thin body.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Holly said.

“There.” He pointed at the other two cryo chambers nestled beside Saafi’s.

“Are you insane?” Holly whispered.

“If those things are just after the pond, then by all means sit on the bench in the corner. You’ll probably be fine. But if they aren’t, if they’re looking for us, then waiting in the open is going to get you killed. I, for one, want to live, and those chambers might just save our lives. If Alexia can shade the glass and turn our machines off, then maybe—just maybe—those freaky spider aliens won’t rip us to shreds.”

Holly looked over at the chamber, mulling over his theory. It took only a second to convince her.

“Owen, you get in first,” she said, guiding him over to the nearest tube. The glass door hissed and cracked open as she picked up the whimpering child up and placed him inside, climbing in after him.

Timothy pulled himself into the other one. Both lids slowly whined shut.

Holly hugged Owen and patted his back as the glass panels clouded over. She watched Timothy slowly fade from view, his eyes staring back at her.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re safe in here,” she whispered to the boy.

“I want to go home,” he whimpered again.

“Shh. You have to be brave. Your mommy and daddy want you to be a brave boy so they can see you again.”

He looked up at her with his large, blue eyes, struggling to get a hand free so he could wipe away the tears. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she whispered.

The flickering of the room’s lights pulled her attention away from him. Through the tinted window of the tubes, she could see the lights twinkle several times, struggling for power before finally shutting off. Darkness carpeted the room, and the beeps from Saafi’s chamber ceased.

A lump formed in Holly’s throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Or was it Owen’s heart?

With the power out, Saafi’s life support would be out too. So would the locking mechanism for the door. On top of that, Alexia would have no way to communicate with them. She pulled Owen tighter, her skin rising with goose bumps. There was nothing she could do for Saafi—nothing she could do for anyone. They were going to die. She was convinced of it. She swallowed and watched a faint blue glow wash over the room as the door clicked open.

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

The sound filled the silent space, sending a chill down her back. It was the most awful noise she had ever heard, like a drowning animal trying to claw its way to safety.

She felt Owen shivering and tightened her arms around him. She took in a deep breath, holding it. The glow increased, illuminating the room with a ghostly blue. She peered through the side panel and saw the creatures with naked eyes for the first time. Her heart skipped inside her chest as the spiders entered the room.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

With her free hand, she covered Owen’s eyes, but she couldn’t close her own. Something compelled her to watch the creatures. She counted a total of seven, and remembered Alexia saying she had picked up nine contacts. Her thoughts returned briefly to Emanuel. Was he okay? Had he found a place to hide?

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

She watched the creatures explore the room, their thin legs almost gliding across the floor on the tips of their claws. Slowly they made their way through the space. One of them jumped on top of the bench and tore at the white cushion. Two others surrounded Saafi’s chamber and paced back and forth. A fourth scampered toward her chamber.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

For a second, her gaze locked with the spider’s.

Could it see them through the tinted glass?

Her heart skipped another beat and adrenaline raced through her veins. Crack!

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the spiders clawing at Saafi’s tube. The glass splintered as they bashed it with their limbs. Her own spider was still staring at her, its head tilting to one side.

She took in a deep breath.

Please go away. Please go away.

And then, as if in response to her thoughts, it was gone, joining the others as they broke into Saafi’s tube. She watched the glass crack. What started as a small break turned into a web of fractures. Within seconds, they would be inside.

She could see Saafi’s emotionless, emaciated face through the clear panels of his chamber. The sight was too much to bear. She focused on his chest instead, still heaving up and down as he breathed. He was totally unaware of what was about to happen to him.

Tears filled her eyes. She had known Saafi for years. He was a good man. Worst of all, there was absolutely nothing she could do for him. The feeling of helplessness washed over her, mixing with a cloud of grief and anguish.

One of the spiders pulled the glass from Saafi’s chamber with two of its legs. With another pair of legs, it pulled Saafi out, suspending him in midair. A second spider scuttled up beside the first and shot out a thin, blue web. The material covered Saafi’s feet, wrapping them tightly. Slowly the spiders worked their way up his legs, torso, and chest, twirling him around and around.

Holly continued to watch, petrified. The only consolation was that he was in a coma and, hopefully, wouldn’t be able to feel any pain. She reminded herself of this over and over again as the web tightened around his neck.

And then his eyes opened.

He tried to suck in a deep breath but couldn’t—the thin blue web was too tight. Instead, his eyes darted around the room, trying to focus in the dim light. Slowly they came to rest on the creatures. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out; the web quickly covered his mouth, his nose, and finally his eyes.

Holly’s stomach lurched. She coughed bile into her mouth but forced it down, the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. The last thing she saw before she fainted was the spiders dragging Saafi’s cocooned body away.

Overton twirled his combat knife before jamming it into a thick piece of sausage on his plate. His shoulder was surprisingly free of pain. The gel was just one of many advances in modern medicine that extended the lives of Marines. Even when they were torn and shredded like the piece of meat in front of him, they could be patched back together and returned to service as effective killing machines.

He smiled and brought the steaming piece of sausage to his mouth and bit in, savoring the juices as they ran down his hoarse throat. It was the first decent meal he had eaten in days, and he was going to enjoy it, savor it as if it was his last—after all, it very well could be.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had left. And after seeing what they were up against, he was willing to bet that his life expectancy had dropped considerably since the invasion.

“She’s awake,” Bouma whispered in his ear.

Just my luck, Overton thought, staring down at the two strips of bacon and half-eaten sausage that he was going to have to let go cold. He sheathed his knife and headed for the red couch, joining Sophie and Bouma.

“My name’s Sophie,” she said, crouching next to the girl.

The kid cowered away. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, with her head dangling between them. Every time Sophie moved closer, the girl would hide between them a bit more.

Overton put his hands on Finley’s and Bouma’s shoulders. “Give them some room,” he ordered. The three headed back to the large table, where they grabbed their meals and retreated from sight.

Sophie hardly noticed them leave. Her mind was racing; it wouldn’t stop. She replayed the events of the past week over and over. First the dead livestock and dead communication line, then the orbs, the drone. Next, there were the Marines saving her team from a sure death. And then Owen had appeared.

Two children and a handful of Marines. The only known survivors besides Luke Williard; the scientist whom she’d met years before.

None of it made sense, and yet it all made sense. Everything was connected. Like a spider’s web branching out in a thousand directions. Her dreams were the one piece of it that she just couldn’t grasp—the dreams that she should have listened to long ago.

“How is she doing?” a voice said from behind her.

Sophie angled her head. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Luke approach.

“She’s been like this all morning. I can’t get her to say a word.”

“Typical response. After what she’s been through, it’s no surprise,” Luke said.

“I can only imagine,” Sophie said, returning her attention to the girl.

“Breakfast is on the table when you get hungry,” Luke replied, disappearing as quickly as he had emerged.

Sophie considered telling the girl that everything was going to be okay and that she would take her home, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. Instead, she sat down next to her on the couch. She crossed her legs and allowed herself to relax, sinking into the soft, aged leather.

After a few minutes of silence, the little girl peered out from the safety of her knees with one eye, scanning the room before retreating back inside her fort of limbs.

Sophie stared ahead, watching the girl through her peripheral vision. It was a tactic used on patients with post-traumatic stress disorder that Holly had described to her years ago. She only vaguely remembered the conversation, but she remembered that when a patient’s shock subsided and the adrenaline cleared, they could suffer from a magnitude of different emotions. The best thing to do, Holly had explained, was simply to show a presence. To listen and provide support while the shock subsided.

As the girl slowly pulled her head out from between her knees, Sophie realized that the strategy was working.

“Where are we?” the girl asked softly. Her voice was muffled and scratchy from screaming.

Sophie kept completely still, hardly making eye contact with the girl through even a sidelong glance. “We’re in a safe place. A place with food and people who will protect us.”

The girl surveyed the room again and rested her chin on her knees. She took in a small breath and looked down at the rock floor of the cave.

“Where are the monsters?” she asked, her eyes glued to the ground.

“They’re all gone for now.”

The girl shot her a quick glance from behind a curtain of hair, and for the first time Sophie saw her dark brown eyes. They were bright and full of life, far from the blank stare she had expected. The girl’s change in demeanor was remarkable.

“What’s your name?” Sophie asked.

“Jamie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie. My name is Sophie, and I am a scientist. Those men you saw earlier are soldiers, and are going to protect you.”

“They can’t protect me.”

Sophie paused, not wanting to backtrack on the progress she had made with the girl. “Of course they can, Jamie. They already killed the monsters.”

The girl brought her legs back up to her chest and buried her face back inside them. In a muffled voice she finally replied, “Those were the small monsters.”

A single bead of sweat crawled down Emanuel’s forehead. The salt stung his dry skin, but he didn’t dare move. After the power went out the temperature had skyrocketed. The air was hot and sticky. It didn’t help that he was crammed into a closet the size of a gym locker. To make things even worse, it stunk of the chemicals that were used to treat Biome 1.

They had, without a doubt, saved his life. He didn’t know why, but the spiderlike creatures had first approached his hiding spot, then suddenly turned away. He wasn’t sure if the chemicals masked his presence, or if they were inimical to the creatures, but for whatever reason, they had lost interest in the storage locker. He watched through a tiny keyhole, still scanning the space for their presence.

But it was empty. The spiders had continued on. Where, he didn’t know, but he guessed Biome 2, where the pond would provide them a plentiful distraction. Emanuel wasn’t going to test his theory, though. He was going to sit tight until the power came back on and Alexia gave him the all clear. Or until Overton showed up with the cavalry.

His thoughts shifted to Sophie. He could only hope she was safe.

I shouldn’t have let her go.

He turned his attention back to the keyhole, scanning the dark chamber outside. It had been over an hour since he’d heard the creatures’ screams and the scratching of their claws. The itch on his forehead was getting more intense.

Satisfied that the creatures were gone, he slowly shifted his body, and risked wiggling his hand free to scratch his dry skin. Instant relief washed over him, but it only lasted a moment. In the distance a hissing sound broke through the silence.

He froze and forced his eye against the keyhole. The noise faded away. Were they back? Had they somehow picked up his scent?

Several minutes passed before the sound returned. It was not the same high-frequency pitch from before. It was something different—something more animalistic.

He blinked rapidly, trying to pick up signs of life through the darkness, but it was futile. Even the emergency lights had been cut.

Panic gripped him. Suddenly he felt completely alone. Was he the only one of his team left? Had the spiders killed Saafi, Holly, Timothy, and Owen?

His stomach lurched at the thought. He blinked again, straining to see into the darkness. For several minutes he sat in the cramped closet, his lungs filling with the stench of chemicals. Just when he thought the sound was gone, it erupted again, even louder than before.

Screech!

Emanuel tasted bile in the back of his throat. Never in his entire life had he been so sick with fear.

The sound grew louder. It didn’t sound like the spiders. There was no scratching this time.

A faint blue glow illuminated the glass door separating the chamber from the cleansing rooms, about fifty meters from his hiding spot. He narrowed his eyes to focus on the glass, stilling his breath.

Inside the chamber something was moving—something big.

With every passing second the blue glow grew brighter and the sound amplified. Suddenly, a new noise rang out, followed by a loud bang.

Pressed against the glass was a face, devoid of humanity. A tongue exploded out of the creature’s mouth and began licking the door violently, leaving slimy trails of blue goo against the glass.

Emanuel wanted to pull away, terrified the thing might be able to sense him, but a combination of curiosity and fear kept him glued to the sight. He still couldn’t see anything but its face. The rest of the chamber had filled with a white mist that rose beneath the creature, camouflaging its body.

And then the face retreated and disappeared into the mist. The creature’s glow pulsated within the chamber, turning the white mist blue, beautiful yet terrifying.

Crack!

The piercing sound forced Emanuel against the back of the small storage area. His chest heaved and his heart raced within the confines of his rib cage. He began to panic, unable to get control of his labored breathing.

It took him a few minutes to regain his composure. Slowly he inched his way back to the keyhole. Staring in his direction was a nine-foot-tall monstrosity. Its skin was translucent, like the spiders’, with blue veins crawling throughout the length of its body. The bottom half of the creature, as far as Emanuel could tell, consisted of two beefy legs and a slender tail ridged with spikes that connected to a massive torso. The upper half of its body was humanoid, with a thick chest, two muscular arms, a thin neck, and round face. But it was far from human. The creature’s skull was lined with the same spikes as its tail, and in the center of its face was a single socket crammed with two small, reptilian eyes.

Emanuel waited, petrified, for several minutes. Finally, he took in a deep breath.

Whatever the thing was, it appeared to be intelligent. Perhaps he had just seen one of the more sophisticated Organics. He guessed the spiders were not the top of the Organic food chain, that there was another species behind the invasion. He forced his face against the keyhole one more time. Staring back at him from a meter away were two small, malevolent eyes. They blinked, and he let out a blood-curdling scream.

Sophie stood on the rooftop, watching the sunrise split the horizon in two. The clearest sky she had ever seen surrounded them in all directions. It was captivating and chilling at the same time. Zero cloud cover meant the Organics had already removed enough of the Earth’s surface moisture that the water cycle had been broken. She was no meteorologist, but she knew enough about weather patterns to know the Earth was dying.

“What’s that?” Overton asked from the corner of the roof. He took a step toward the railing and looked out across the Colorado Springs skyline through his scope.

Sophie strolled over to him, squinting into the sun to get a better look.

“Looks sort of like rain, but without the clouds. Here take a look,” he said, handing her a pair of binoculars.

“That’s not rain. Those are the remains of people from the orbs that are being beamed up to a collection ship far above the atmosphere. You can’t see it, but trust me, it’s there,” Luke said from the stairway.

Overton narrowed his eyes. “How do you know all of this?”

“The ships have been in orbit since they invaded a few days ago. We didn’t know about it until it was too late. They must have some sort of cloaking technology. I don’t know,” he said shrugging. “All I know is that when they finally emerged on invasion day, our weapons systems were already dead from the magnetic disturbance. With the click of one button, the Organics unleashed a shockwave that effectively shut down most of our technological advances from the past millennium.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. If what Luke was saying was true, then it was far worse than she had imagined. It was possible the government was completely gone. Sure, there would be other survivors in bunkers across the world, people like Luke who had survived the initial attack, but without jets, tanks, and nukes to fight back with, they would be eliminated one by one. Extermination was no longer just a worst-case scenario; it was quickly becoming a reality.

Overton coughed and jammed a cigarette between his dry lips. “How do we fight them?”

Luke laughed. “Typical soldier. I’m sorry, Sergeant, but we don’t fight them. We hide and hope they leave without taking every ounce of water.”

“Negative. That’s not happening,” Overton fired back. “I’ve killed almost a dozen of them already. They’re weak. Once you bring down their shields, this thing we call a gun”—Overton shouldered his rifle and smiled—“turns them into dirty martinis.”

“So you’ve seen the worms and the spiders, I take it? Odd creatures. No way in hell they’re the intelligent ones, though. From what I’ve seen, they act like bugs. The spiders are the worker bees, tracking down water, weaving anyone or anything with a certain water weight into those orbs. Then the worms harvest the glowing prison cells and deliver the H_2O to the ships above with one giant belch,” he said pointing at the clear sky.

Luke’s smile faded as he watched another ray of turquoise light race up into the sky. He strolled across the metal rooftop, his boots clanking until he stood only a few steps from Overton. “I’m no Marine. I can’t shoot, and I surely wouldn’t know how to handle myself in battle. I don’t know military strategy either, but what I do know is this—” Luke paused and surveyed the skyline. “I know history. It was just a matter of time before our civilization collapsed. Look at what happened to the Roman Empire, the people of Easter Island, the Mayans, and the Native American tribes. They were all virtually wiped out. Either by an invading enemy, disease, or loss of resources.”

“But they weren’t completely wiped out,” Sophie interjected.

Luke smiled. “No, but they weren’t fighting against a far superior species either. If you think about it this way, all three of the extermination factors in the demise of those cultures are present in this invasion. Consider this,” he said, looking back over the railing. “We have an amazingly intelligent invading species. Any survivors will have to battle diseases due to lack of sanitary conditions, and the few who remain after that will have to contend with the loss of our most precious resource: water.”

Overton brought his rifle back down to waist level, and joined Luke in surveying the skyline. He wasn’t a history buff, but he knew enough to know the man was right. He shook his head and began the journey back to the bunker.

“Where are you going, Sergeant?” Luke asked.

“I’m going to gather my men and supplies. We’re heading back to the Biosphere within the hour. You’re welcome to come with,” he said, disappearing down the stairs.

Luke looked like he had just been hit in the gut. He watched Sophie, who still stood at the edge of the roof, transfixed by the sporadic rays of blue shooting out of Colorado Springs. He studied her for a moment before making his way to the staircase. He had to stop Overton; he couldn’t let them leave. No one was going anywhere.

CHAPTER 20

FINLEY, Bouma, gear up. We’re heading out ASAP,” Overton shouted, the words echoing through the cave.

A pair of footsteps rang out from the metal stairs behind him, and moments later he felt the grip of a hand on his injured shoulder. He grimaced. “Hands off,” he growled.

“Sergeant Overton, you’re making a big mistake,” Luke said. “Your facility is more than likely already compromised. Besides, you’re all welcome to stay here. I have supplies, and my magnetic device will prevent them from ever finding us. We should wait out the invasion and reemerge when they leave,” he insisted. “We need each other. With your NTC training, and my resources, this could be the safest place on Earth.”

Overton pulled his bicep free from the man’s grip. “Reemerge to what? To a world without water? No, I’m not risking that. I’m leading my men back to the Biosphere, where the rest of our team is. I made a promise, and I’m not the type of man to go back on my word. You’re welcome to come with and bring your little magnet toy. ”

Luke laughed. “I don’t suppose I could change your mind?” He looked at Sophie and held her eye for a second. She walked over to Overton and stood shoulder to shoulder with the Marine.

“We have people back at the Biosphere. We’ve got to go back,” she said sternly.

“Very well,” Luke replied.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” Overton said. He finished packing his bag and turned to see Luke had vanished.

Fuck. Just what I needed.

“Men, keep an eye on him,” Overton said. “I don’t trust him. Something tells me he isn’t quite right in the head.”

Sophie hovered over the couch, trying to get Jamie’s attention with a warm smile. She wasn’t sure if the girl was asleep or just hiding her face between her legs, but time was running out. The Marines were ready to move, and there was no way Sophie was going to leave the girl behind with Luke, even if the journey outside was risky.

“Jamie, I know you’re scared, but we have to go now. There is a safer place for us. A place where there is a boy your age. His name is Owen.”

The girl peeked one eye from between her knees. “Do I have to go outside?”

“Only for a little while. And I promise I’ll be by your side the entire way,” Sophie insisted. “Can you be brave like Owen?”

Jamie’s eyes widened. With one swift movement, she nodded and jumped off the couch. “I bet I’m faster than he is, too,” she said.

Sophie smiled. Kids never ceased to amaze her—their resiliency, their competitiveness with each other, and their innocence. She watched Jamie run toward Overton and Bouma as the unmistakable click of a gun’s safety rang out behind them.

“No one’s going anywhere,” a voice said from the entry to the bunker.

Overton didn’t need to turn to see Luke standing in the doorway, the machine gun leveled at his back. He’d had a feeling the man was close to losing it but even the veteran Marine had underestimated the man’s intentions.

“You can’t go out there. You won’t survive,” he said tonelessly.

Luke’s voice reminded Overton of Alexia’s—robotic and calm and unwavering. He watched Bouma pull his hand from his backpack and slowly reach for his sidearm. Overton shook his head and caught the corporal’s eye. “No,” he mouthed before turning to face Luke.

“You don’t want to do this, Mr. Williard,” he said, his hands raised.

“Drop the formalities. This isn’t open for discussion. Now put your weapons on the table and take a seat on the couch.”

“What are we now, your hostages? Are you going to keep us here forever?” Overton asked, his face turning red with anger.

Sophie watched from a distance, frozen. She motioned for Jamie to come back, and moments later she felt the girl’s arms around her waist.

“You will stay as long as those things are outside,” Luke replied. “Now, where’s that private? Finster? Finley?” he asked, scanning the room with his machine gun.

In the second Luke turned his head, Overton unbuttoned the holster to his .45, spun, and fired off two shots. One punched a neat hole in Luke’s leg, while the other severed his firing hand at the wrist. The man’s legs folded underneath him and a spray of bloody mist shot into the air.

Sophie reached down to cover Jamie’s eyes. She struggled to see what was happening and pulled free of Sophie’s grasp. Jamie screamed, watching Luke flop around on the rocky floor like a fish fighting to get back into water.

Sophie grabbed Jamie and forced the girl’s face against her side. “What did you do, Sergeant?” she yelled.

Finley rushed into the room, his rifle drawn. “Holy shit!”

The brilliant afternoon sun reflected off Finley’s silver visor. Overton tinted his own visor and took to his stomach to survey the area with his scope. The box on his HUD blinked free of contacts, and with a quick motion of his hand, the team advanced up the hill. Hitting the tree line, they fanned out, with Finley taking point and Bouma hugging their six.

Sophie stumbled on a loose rock and felt Jamie’s grip tighten around her armored neck.

“Go back to sleep,” Sophie whispered.

Jamie responded by squeezing her even tighter. The meds Overton had given her were sedatives meant for adults. They had slipped one in a glass of water moments before they left Luke’s bunker. In only a few minutes the pill took effect, just the right amount of time for Sophie and Bouma to retrieve the magnetic device from its hardened case on the roof. Now the meds were wearing off, and Sophie didn’t know how much longer the girl would stay drowsy and quiet.

Sophie craned her neck to see Bouma struggling to keep up. He had hastily tied several cords together and fastened the device to his back. It was clearly weighing him down. By the time they reached the top of the ridgeline he was bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“You’re going to have to slow down. This thing weighs a ton,” he said between breaths.

Overton blinked and pulled up the red clock in the corner of his HUD. It was 4:45 p.m. They still had several hours of daylight left, and had so far gone undetected. But they were, according to his projections, at least another five miles from the Biosphere. He blinked again and gazed upon the mountains in the distance with clear, focused eyes. Cheyenne Mountain was blanketed in pine trees. It looked so far away, an impossible distance to cover without being spotted by the Organics—especially with a girl and a hundred-pound magnet in tow.

He cursed and rubbed his throbbing arm. The gel Sophie had applied was wearing off, and the pain was slowly coming back.

Just my luck.

“Pack it up. We have a hump to travel,” Overton said into his com.

“Roger,” Finley responded, disappearing down the hill, a cloud of dust trailing him.

Sophie watched the dirt swirl like a miniature tornado. It was then that she saw the depression of what had been a lake only days before. For the first time, she understood the end of the world was no longer a hypothetical concept, a theory to be debated by academics. Rationally, she’d known the consequences of Earth’s surface water being stolen. Ecosystems would begin to collapse. Trees would wither and die. Carbon emission levels would reach an all-time high, causing temperatures to rise, and any human survivors would be forced underground.

A pine needle pinged off her helmet. It disappeared as it hit the ground, camouflaged by the tan dirt. She continued to scan the area, her eyes falling on dry brushes and browning trees. As a scientist, she’d known all of this, but looking at the dry lakebed, it was suddenly real. The truth sent a shiver down the length of her body just as Bouma tapped her on her shoulder.

“Gotta move, ma’am,” he said, rushing by her.

Sophie nodded and repositioned Jamie so she could carry the little girl more easily. With a sigh she took the first step into the depression below.

They traveled silently through the barren forest for hours, until the trees parted and revealed what had been civilization. Finley paused at the side of a gravel road and listened to a taut power line whine in the breeze. For a moment he wondered if it was still carrying any electricity, but he knew it was unlikely.

In the distance a weak sun began to set over Cheyenne Mountain, turning the sky a brilliant crimson. Overton blinked, and his visor automatically adjusted to the change in light. He took one knee next to Finley and stared silently down the road.

“Contacts?” Overton whispered into his com.

“Negative. All clear,” Finley replied.

Overton didn’t like the silence. It was eerie, and it filled his mind with questions. Had the Organics retreated? Were they waiting for the right time to ambush his team? Or were they simply too busy turning the population of Colorado Springs into smoothies?

None of the possibilities was particularly reassuring. Either way, Overton knew they needed to move. He didn’t want to get caught in the open during the night. It seemed like that was when the Organics were at their most active.

He nodded at Finley, who immediately took off running down the gravel road. There was zero cover for a klick or so where the road wound upward and wrapped around the mountain. It was the only way to get to the blast doors, but it also left his team completely exposed.

Overton watched the man for several minutes before taking off behind him. Finley’s helmet bobbed as he ran. Up and down, up and down. His eyes followed the movement for a moment and then scanned the sky and surrounding area for contacts.

Nothing.

It was a good sign, but for some reason it only added to his nervousness. Surely the Organics had detected them by now, so what was stopping them from attacking? He had left Luke’s bunker prepared for a fight, and now he was getting anxious. Where were they?

He gripped the pulse rifle tighter, ignoring the pain shooting down his injured arm. Gritting his teeth, he pushed on, making his way to the edge of the road where it began its winding journey up the mountain. It was there he finally halted, struggling for air and watching Sophie and Bouma make their way up the incline with their precious cargo.

Overton looked up at the trail. “Almost there,” he said, smiling behind his visor. Sophie didn’t pause when she caught up with him. She continued up the hill at a pace that impressed even the Marine. He had always been a firm believer that people picked up speed in the last stretch of a race, especially when they could see a finish line. She was proving his theory to be true.

He leveled his rifle toward the ground and continued on, swearing that he would finally quit smoking. But as the blast doors came into focus, he was already imagining how sweet his next cigarette would taste. Then he noticed that something was wrong with the doors.

They were already open.

CHAPTER 21

OVERTON slipped through the crack in the monstrous blast doors. Finley watched with his back to the rock, his foot tapping anxiously.

Several seconds bled by, and Sophie began to get nervous. All she could think about was Emanuel. The open doors meant one of two things: either the Organics had gotten in, or Emanuel and the rest of her team had left.

As she studied the blast doors from a distance, she realized the latter of the two possibilities was remote at best. At the base of the metal doors were claw marks, much larger than any of the spiders were capable of making.

Those are the small monsters. Jamie’s words echoed in Sophie’s mind. Reality set in; her stomach lurched, and the adrenaline mixing with her bloodstream clouded her vision.

“We have to get in there,” she whispered into her mic, setting Jamie softly on the ground. She jabbed her finger at the claw marks. “Check those out.”

“What the fuck are those?” Finley exclaimed, taking one knee to study the doors.

“We have to warn Sergeant Overton,” Bouma replied. He unstrapped the metal device from his back and carefully rested it against the wall of the door. “I’m going in,” he said, his weapon leveled at the darkness.

“Roger. I’m right behind you. Dr. Winston, stay here! That’s an order,” Finley said.

She nodded and crouched down next to Jamie. The child sat on the rocky ground, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are we safe yet?” she asked in a soft, innocent voice.

Sophie looked down at the girl through her silver visor and lied. “Almost, honey. Almost.”

Inside the facility, Bouma caught up with his commander.

“Sergeant, the doors. They had all of these scratches,” he panted. He eased to a stop behind Overton, who was standing frozen in the darkness of the hangar.

The Marine didn’t respond. He simply blinked and scanned the blackness, his eyes straining to see what lurked in the shadows.

“Sir, the—”

Overton balled his hand into a fist, and Bouma took a step back, nearly bumping into Finley.

“My heat sensors are picking up some weird readings,” Overton whispered. “Bouma, take our six. Finley, you’re with me.”

The two Marines nodded and fell into position. Overton took the lead, stepping a few cautious paces into the darkness, blinking again as the green tint from his night vision filled his HUD.

He had seen several heat signatures upon entering the hangar, but they disappeared almost as fast as they had appeared. The claw marks on the doors troubled him. More than troubled—they fucking terrified him. He knew better than anyone in the group that the spiders hadn’t done that to the doors. The wound on his shoulder proved they weren’t that strong. If they were, his arm would be lying in a parking lot back in Colorado Springs.

Don’t lose focus.

The words from his drill sergeant were the perfect reminder that he needed to get his head back in the game. Whatever was on the other end of those claws was going to be big, and he needed a clear mind if he was going to have a chance of taking it down.

A flash of red raced across his HUD. His eyes followed the blur before it disappeared off his display. “Contact,” he whispered.

Two short bursts of static broke over the com.

“I see it,” Finley said.

“Me too,” Bouma replied.

“Hold position,” Overton ordered.

He stilled his breathing in an attempt to calm his nerves. The green glow of the tunnel filled his HUD with an eerie haze. Another flash of red burst across his display and disappeared.

Whatever it was, it was fast. He held his position and scanned the tunnel. If he had to guess, he would put them at one hundred yards away from the Biosphere entrance, which meant they had already traveled farther than he thought. It also meant there was a considerable gap between him and the civilians.

A wave of helplessness washed over him. He pulled his focus from the tunnel and turned. The last thing he wanted was to be outflanked. But as he began to backtrack, his HUD exploded with red light and his stomach sank. It was too late.

Towering behind Finley was a nine-foot-tall monstrosity. Overton scanned the beast in shock. He had never seen anything quite like it. Its massive tail, short thick legs, and stubby arms reminded him more of a reptile than an alien. But when his eyes finally came to rest on the creature’s face, he saw the difference. Tucked within a skull rimmed with spikes was a humanoid face with a pair of emotionless eyes.

Before Overton had a chance to warn Finley, the creature lurched forward, its tongue flicking between a mouthful of jagged black teeth. A deafening sound escaped its mouth as it attacked.

The monster was incredibly fast, using its tail to help it slither down the tunnel. In less than two seconds, one of the creature’s arms had wrapped around Finley’s torso while the other had impaled his neck armor with a sharp claw.

A single burst of static squawked over the radio as Finley let out a cry. His last words were undecipherable as he choked on his own blood.

There was nothing Bouma or Overton could do. They watched in horror as the monster tightened its grip around Finley’s torso and yanked, ripping the private’s head from the bloody stump of his neck.

“NO!” Overton screamed, shouldering his rifle and squeezing the trigger as the private’s headless body slumped to the tracks below.

The tunnel glowed with the light that emanated from Bouma’s and Overton’s rifles as they shot round after round. The pulses ricocheted off the creature’s blue shield and it screeched, its mouth displaying every one of its black teeth.

Both Marines emptied their magazines into the creature without effect. Overton reached for his electromagnetic grenade, tossed it at the monster’s feet, and took off running down the tunnel. “Move it, Bouma!” he screamed.

A bright flash filled his display, blinding him. He gritted his teeth, took one knee, removed his .45, steadied his breathing, and, when his vision cleared, fired a single round. The bullet seemed to travel in slow motion, barely missing Bouma, who was still running, and punching a wide hole just above the creature’s eyes. They blinked, and then the monster let out a soft grunt before it collapsed face first onto the tunnel tracks, its claw still gripping Finley’s head.

“Holy shit!” Bouma panted. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, staring at the alien. Overton holstered his pistol and jammed another magazine into his rifle before pacing over to the fallen beast.

“They aren’t shit without their force fields,” he said, taking one knee next to Finley’s fallen body. “God damn . . .” his voice trailed off as he stared at what was left of his Marine. “Fuck, he didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

Overton forced his gaze away and scanned the tunnel for contacts. There wasn’t time to mourn Finley. Not with Dr. Winston and Jamie waiting. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if one of these creatures caught them.

“Move out, Bouma.”

He took off running back down the tunnel, but Bouma stood frozen in place. He stared at his friend and the beast that had claimed his life.

“No one fucking told me I’d be fighting goddamned alien monsters when I signed the dotted line,” he said. He stood there for what felt like ages before forcing himself to move. He took a last look at Finley’s corpse and whispered, “Sorry, man, but maybe you actually lucked out.”

Sophie scuffled along the side of the tracks with one hand on Overton’s shoulder and the other gripping Jamie’s little hand tightly. There was no need to tell the girl to close her eyes as they came upon Finley’s corpse; the darkness of the tunnel ensured she didn’t see the gruesome scene.

Through Sophie’s visor she saw it all—the terrifying corpse of the alien, whose skull was leaking a river of goo, Finley’s headless body, and finally his helmet, which had strips of esophagus and flesh still attached to it.

Her stomach lurched and she gagged. The taste of regurgitated sausage overwhelmed her, and she was forced to brace herself against the wall.

“Are we almost to the safe place?” Jamie asked in a hushed whisper.

Sophie sucked in some filtered air and blinked the cloudiness from her vision. “Yes, we’re almost there,” she said.

“Keep moving,” Overton ordered.

Jamie latched herself around Sophie’s waist. “I don’t like the dark.”

“Dr. Winston, keep her quiet,” Overton barked.

Sophie ran her armored fingers through the girl’s locks and glanced at Finley’s body one more time before continuing on down the tunnel.

Heel to toe. One step at a time.

The distance between their location and the entrance to the Biosphere was hard to judge. The green glow of her night vision made everything look like a video game.

She pressed on. Every step brought her closer to finding Emanuel.

A few feet ahead she could see that the tunnel curved slightly to the right. Overton had already halted, trying to gain an angle on the turn. She craned her neck and saw Bouma was still behind them.

“The entrance to the facility is right around this corner,” Overton whispered into the com. He stole a quick glance around the granite wall and eyed the passage.

“It’s clear. Stay tight.”

Sophie felt a lump forming in her throat. She gripped Jamie’s hand tighter and followed the sergeant, stepping carefully over the train tracks.

They crept up the staircase leading from the tunnel to the platform and followed it into the facility in single file. Every footstep sounded like a miniature earthquake in the narrow hallway.

The noise echoed in Overton’s helmet. Stealth was the only advantage he had on the Organics; without it he knew he wouldn’t be able to protect what was left of their group.

An image of Finley’s headless body slipped into his mind. He gritted his teeth and forced it into the vault where he stored all of the other horrible things he’d seen. There was no hiding it forever—the image would reappear, more than likely on some dark night when sleep wouldn’t come. But he had to put it away for now and focus on his current objective.

Get inside the facility. Secure it and find the rest of the team.

He repeated the mission over and over. It helped him focus. Finally, they passed a briefing room and a set of offices. He halted outside the entrance to the cleansing chamber. Taking one knee, he peeked around the corner.

His eyes fell upon the thing he’d been dreading to find. The aliens had already penetrated the facility, more than likely in search of the pond. On the ground were a thousand tiny pieces of shattered glass, spread across the floor like candy from a broken piñata. Mixed throughout were gooey remnants of the same material he had seen gushing out of the monster’s skull in the tunnel.

Fuck.

The word escaped his mouth and sounded over the com.

“What is it?” Bouma replied, his voice tight with fear.

Overton responded by slipping into the darkness of Biome 1. He shouldered his rifle, grimacing from the growing pain in his arm.

A faint red signature glowed to life on his HUD. He knelt and zoomed in. Whatever it was, it appeared to be inside the wall.

“Contact,” he whispered. “Check it out, Bouma.”

Bouma hesitated at the opening of the cleansing chamber and then jumped onto the dirt of the garden, crushing several plants that had already sprouted. He walked at a steady pace, his weapon trained on the wall.

About one hundred yards out he stopped. He blinked to enhance the image on his HUD. The contact was curled up inside a closet. At first glance it reminded him of the ultrasound image he had seen of his nephew a few months earlier. But this was no baby. This was something else.

He pressed on cautiously, his boots crushing plants beneath their tread. When he got to the platform, he put one hand on the metal and pulled himself up, keeping his rifle trained on the closet.

Two large steps across the platform were all it took to get to the wall. He slouched against it, sucking in a deep breath. Counting to three, he slowly pulled the handle. The door creaked open, and he jumped back as a body slumped onto the platform.

“I found someone,” he whispered into the com. He pulled off a glove to check the man’s pulse. It was surprisingly strong. He rolled the man onto his back, and Emanuel’s eyes popped open, scanning the darkness restlessly.

“Who—who’s there?!”

“Keep it down,” Bouma whispered, bringing his hand to Emanuel’s mouth.

“We have to hide,” Emanuel said, scooting backwards on the metal platform until he hit the wall with a thud.

“Emanuel!” Sophie cried, dropping Jamie’s hand and rushing toward him. “You’re okay.” She dropped to both knees and hugged him, gripping him so tight he couldn’t scream again even if he’d wanted to.

“Sophie, is that you?”

She reached for her helmet and slipped it off. She blinked several times before the outline of his face came into focus. “Yes, it’s me.”

Emanuel’s body slowly relaxed. He reached out for her, hugging her forcefully. “God, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered.

“I know, I thought I lost you too,” she whispered.

Emotions she had ignored for too long overwhelmed her. Mars, the Biosphere, her team’s opinion of her—none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was surviving—surviving with Emanuel.

A single tear raced down her cheek, hidden by the darkness. She didn’t bother wiping it away. Her body was too tired. It had been through so much.

“All right, lovebirds, let’s get moving. I want the facility secured in thirty minutes. Bouma, set your mission clock,” Overton said over the com.

The blue numbers began to tick away on his HUD. He checked his ammo and stretched his stiff arm. In the distance, a scream broke through the silence, and he instantly shouldered his rifle, his finger massaging the trigger.

“What the hell was that?” Bouma whispered.

“Sounded human. Kind of like that jackass computer guy,” Overton said. He was moving before he finished his sentence, racing down the platform. Stealth was no longer important. If there were more survivors, he wanted to find them before the Organics did.

“Bouma, protect the civvies and get the power back on. I have an asshole to save.”

CHAPTER 22

EVERY time Overton had ever thought he was incapable of completing an objective, his training would kick in and he’d get it done. After serving his entire adult life in the military, his senses were no longer his own—they belonged to the Marines. He could no longer control how he reacted in combat. His training, experience, and survival instincts snapped on and took over.

His current mission was no different. He didn’t think about hugging the wall of the passage so that the enemy couldn’t get behind him. He didn’t think about shouldering his rifle tight against his body, or the pain that it caused his injured shoulder. And he certainly didn’t think about what could be lurking in the shadows. Whatever it was, he would deal with it. He was a goddamned Marine.

The first hallway was clear, and, surprisingly, the glass door to Biome 2 was still sealed. With the power off he was forced to pry his way in. He shuddered as the rubber-tipped bottom of the doors squeaked, but within a few seconds he was in.

The glistening water of the pond filled his HUD with a green glow. It was the last thing he had expected to see. He had assumed the Organics were after the Biosphere’s water supply, but as another scream broke through the silence, he realized they were after something else—the team.

Kill the enemy and then take their resources.

It was one of history’s longest-standing military strategies, dating back to a time when humans were little more than hunters and gatherers. And now an alien life force that had traveled an unfathomable distance to reach Earth was using it against them.

Shocked into motion, Overton rushed out of the chamber and sprinted down the hallway. He didn’t bother looking in Biome 3. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the glass was still in place. It was Biome 4 he was interested in.

He raced around a corner and eased to a halt as the mess hall came into view. The outlines of empty tables filled his HUD. There were no signs of life.

His instincts kicked in and he pushed on. Time was of the essence, and trumped any need to go undetected. He certainly didn’t like Timothy, but he wasn’t going to let another one of his people die. Besides, he knew if Owen and Holly were still alive, they would be close by.

The sound of Timothy’s screams broke through the silence again, and Overton blinked, enhancing his night vision. Judging by the strength of the screams, he put the man somewhere in the personnel quarters or the med ward. But without Alexia’s guidance, he had no way of knowing the exact location.

In the corner of his HUD, the mission clock blinked red, reminding him he had only fifteen minutes to meet his objective—anything longer than that would give the Organics even more of an advantage. His objectives were simple, yet complicated: rescue the survivors, get the power back on, and secure the entryways.

He slipped into the hallway leading to the personnel quarters, and his display glowed to life. With several blinks he enhanced the optics until he could see a powerful glow from the entrance to the med chamber.

Pushing forward, he ignored the closed doors of the staff quarters and continued down the hall, his weapon shouldered and his fingers massaging the trigger. The glow meant one thing: contacts.

He slid his back against the wall and checked his magazine. It was full. He was locked and loaded, ready to go.

Light ’em up!

He ran into the room and almost fired a round into Timothy’s forehead. The man stood, shaking uncontrollably, in the center of the med ward. His eyes were fixated on an orb floating over what was left of Saafi’s cryo chamber.

Suspended from the ceiling were a half dozen spiders, their bellies bulging.

The sight was overwhelming. For the first time, Overton wasn’t exactly sure what to do. None of it made sense to him. The spiders should have been attacking Timothy, aggravated by his screams. But looking closer, he saw they were in some sort of suspended animation. A translucent layer of skin covered their eyes, and their liquid-filled torsos pulsated. Even from several paces away, Overton could see the liquid was slowly dissipating.

He didn’t need to see any more. His instincts kicked back in. The spiders weren’t sleeping; they were fueling up. Now was his chance.

One swift kick to the back of Timothy’s knee was all it took to get him out of the way. He watched the man’s legs crumple beneath him, and then, without further hesitation, he squeezed his rifle’s trigger rapidly, like a child playing a video game.

Adrenaline filled his veins as the rounds tore into the spiders’ shields. They just hung there, putting up no resistance. After only a few shots, their defenses weakened and failed. Overton finished the magazine with a few more squeezes of the trigger, and the last spider exploded in a mist of liquid. They’d never even moved.

“That’s for Finley!” he shouted. He lowered his rifle and pulled another mag from his belt. With a click, he jammed it back in the weapon and fired off another volley of shots into a spider whose body was still somewhat intact.

“And that’s for the rest of my squad!” he snarled.

A burst of static broke over the com. “Sergeant, what’s going on? We heard gunfire. Over.”

“All clear, Bouma. I found Timothy and”—he looked at the empty orb floating over the destroyed cryo chamber—“And what’s left of Mr. Yool.”

Silence filled his helmet as he waited for a response.

Sophie’s voice slowly broke over the channel. “Sergeant Overton, please repeat your last transmission.”

“Mr. Yool is gone, ma’am. I’m sorry for . . .”

A hissing sound distracted Overton before he could finish his thought. He spun and saw one of the cryo chambers open. When he saw Holly and Owen emerge, he immediately lowered his weapon, a relieved grin on his face.

“Dr. Winston. I’ve located Holly and Owen. They appear to be uninjured.”

“Thank God,” Sophie responded. “We’re heading to the med ward now.”

“Roger that. Bouma, how’s it coming with getting those lights back on?” Overton asked.

“I found the source of the power outage. A few severed wires. I should have it back on in . . .”

A warm glow illuminated the room, and the sound of Alexia’s robotic voice repeated over the intercom system:

“Code Red. Please head to the medical ward. Code Red. Please head to the medical ward.”

Relief washed through Overton’s system. Two objectives down. And despite the loss of Mr. Yool, things weren’t as bad as he thought.

He slipped off his helmet and peered at the cryo chamber Holly and Owen had been hiding in.

“Are you guys okay?” he asked.

“What about me, man? You about broke my freaking knee,” Timothy complained.

The sound of the man’s voice made Overton cringe. With one swift move he stood, spun, and swung at Timothy. His fist connected with the man’s jaw, and the unmistakable sound of bone shattering echoed off the walls.

He turned to face Holly again before Timothy’s body had a chance to hit the floor. “That should shut him up for a while.”

A hint of a smile streaked across Holly’s face.

“Thank you for saving us, Mr. Soldier,” Owen said from inside the cracked lid of the cryo chamber.

Overton looked down at the boy and paused. He didn’t know what to say. It was the first time he could remember a child ever thanking him for anything.

“Any time, little guy,” he finally managed.

Bouma hunched over the main desk in the control room, studying a holographic blueprint of the facility. Miles of tunnels twisted and snaked across the map, leaving him perplexed. The age of the structure, combined with the fact it had been completely retrofitted from the NORAD days, added to the complexity of the blueprints.

Overton had ordered him to find all possible entry points into the Biosphere, but as his mind digested the drawings, he realized it was going to be almost impossible. The main problem was that the Organics had already penetrated the facility, which meant they already knew of the team’s presence.

Neither of the Marines claimed to be experts on enemy tactics, but they were both smart enough to know the Biosphere had been compromised.

A strong pat on his back distracted him, and he looked up to see Overton’s exhausted face.

“Report,” he said, stuffing the last half of a granola bar into his mouth.

“Sir, there are so many possible entries it will be almost impossible to secure the facility. Besides, they already know we’re here.”

“Bouma, I’m not asking for your opinion on the Organics. I’m asking if you can secure the Biosphere. Can you do that?”

Bouma hesitated and shook his head. “No sir, I don’t think it’s possible. With all due respect, if they got in once, they’ll certainly be clever enough to get in again.”

Overton massaged the metal holster of his .45. “I understand this may be difficult for you to grasp, son, but we have to secure this facility. There is nowhere else to run. Unless you suggest going back outside. Is that what you’re suggesting, Bouma?”

Bouma shook his head again. “No, sir . . .”

“Then get on it!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Bouma said, his back stiffening.

“Alexia, are you back online?” Overton asked.

“Yes, Sergeant Overton. My mainframe is still downloading files, but I am 90 percent operational. How may I assist you?”

Her robotic voice echoed in his ears. Something about the tone reminded him of . . . no, he was just being paranoid. He shook the thought away quickly and stepped forward to get a better view of the blueprints. “I need to know how those things got in our facility.”

Footsteps rang out behind him, and he turned to see Sophie entering the room. Overton nodded at her and turned back to the holograms.

“Sir, for the sake of expediency, I have assigned names to the creatures. I am calling the spiderlike creatures, for the lack of a better word, Spiders. The larger species you encountered in the tunnel is a Sentinel,” Alexia said. “The Spiders appeared to have gained entry to the hangar through a pair of sanitary sewer lines associated with the old NORAD facility. And you saw how the Sentinel penetrated the hangar via the blast doors.”

Overton’s stomach growled. The granola bar hadn’t been enough. He needed more food and desperately needed sleep. He shook his head and looked at the ground, trying to think.

Bouma was right. The facility was just too big to secure, and the Biosphere wasn’t designed with security in mind. If the blast doors couldn’t keep one of those things out, there was no way they could keep them out of the Biomes.

Sophie’s firm voice pulled him back to reality. “What about the device?” she suggested.

“What?” Overton asked, massaging his temples.

“The magnet. Clearly it saved Luke’s life and camouflaged his house from the Organics. Maybe we could get it to work here too?”

Overton blinked, second-guessing his decision to leave Luke’s bunker. Had it been the wrong move? He shrugged off the thought. He had had no way of knowing the Biosphere facility had been compromised. There was also no way he was going to risk heading back outside. Not now, with two children under their care. Besides, he knew most of the team would refuse to go anyway. Their only choice was to hunker down and try their best to make the chambers as safe as possible.

“Do you think you can get that thing up and running?” Overton asked.

Sophie eyed the device. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” she said confidently. “It looks kind of like a reverse magnetic pulse generator. I’ve seen prototypes before.”

Overton shrugged. “Get it done then. Bouma and I will work on securing the front doors to Biome 1.” He paused and looked down at his last electromagnetic concussion grenade. “If the magnet device fails, we go with plan B. These things take down their shields,” he said with a wink.

“Works for me.” She glanced at her watch. It was getting late. They were all in desperate need of sleep, but first they needed food. Those had to be their priorities. She hated to neglect Finley and Saafi’s remains, but there wasn’t anything they could do for either of them now.

“Alexia, please reset all sensors in the facility.” She turned to Overton. “Does thirty minutes give you enough time to set your trap?”

“Does it give you enough time to set up the device?”

Sophie smiled. “Yes, that should be sufficient. Let’s meet back at the mess hall in half an hour.”

Overton set his stopwatch and grinned wolfishly. He was impressed with Sophie’s resilience. It was the trait of a solid leader, one he looked for when recommending promotions. She would have made a hell of a Marine.

CHAPTER 23

ENTRY 0104

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

SCANS show the facility is completely contaminated. In fact, the data I have downloaded to my system may not even be accurate. It cannot be. The system is overloaded and readings are off the charts.

My objectives have changed. NTC programmed me to ensure two main goals. The first was to keep the Biosphere toxin-free, with systems running at 100 percent, and the second was to look after the health and safety of Dr. Winston’s team.

I have failed at both objectives.

However, considering the events that have unfolded outside, I am surprised any of the team members remain alive. Or, to be accurate, I am not surprised. I was not programmed to feel surprise. The team’s survival is, however, a true anomaly.

I put the possibility of continued survival over the duration of a month’s time at approximately 20 percent. I should add that number drastically declines every week thereafter. The primary variables involved in these computations are simple, although the calculations are complex: One, the team’s ability to grow food after the supply runs out. And two—which, I should highlight, is the most important factor—is their ability to avoid the Organics.

These statistics may change if the piece of magnetic equipment Corporal Bouma brought back to the facility proves to be effective against the aliens. It is truly a fascinating device. Preliminary scans show the machine works by reducing the effects of an electromagnetic field over an area approximately the size of a square mile. The device houses some sort of magnetic material that blocks the electromagnetic energy wave the Organics are using. Put simply, it creates a shield around a location that effectively blocks any electromagnetic radiation, energy, or radio waves from getting in.

Before the power was cut, I had been running diagnostics on the electromagnetic disruption outside the facility. The results were intriguing. The Organics have created and sustained a wave of energy that has in turn disrupted communications worldwide. At this point I have several hypotheses regarding the source of this wave, but I can say with 99 percent accuracy that they used similar technology during the 2055 solar storms.

If the reverse magnetic pulse generator—or RVM, as Dr. Winston has been referring to it—is as effective as my scans indicate, it may be possible to amplify its range. However, this is only a theory, and I do not have enough information to take this idea to Dr. Winston yet.

A beep from my security program informs me that the defense sensors are back online. I zoom in with Camera 14 and see Sergeant Overton and Corporal Bouma working on securing the entrance to Biome 1 with several metal panels. Bangs echo off the walls as they bolt the thick sheets over the entry.

Another warning from my security program diverts my attention to the control room. I skip to Camera 34 and watch Dr. Winston and Dr. Rodriguez plugging wires into the side of the RVM. Two of the command computers have been unplugged, resulting in a loss of several data systems.

The time reads 9:15 p.m., and in Biome 4 Dr. Brown sits at a table with the children, Owen and Jamie. They are both shoveling food into their mouths while the doctor rubs their backs. Her face is strained, exhausted, and aged. She does not look like the young psychologist who entered the Biosphere a little over a week ago. Mr. Roberts is slumped in a wheelchair fast asleep and appears to be drooling on himself. It’s more than likely the result of the painkillers he took for his broken jaw.

I pull all three images onto my display. Biome 1, the control room, and Biome 4 all show the remaining team members working on securing the Biosphere. While this behavior is logical, it seems to be statistically futile.

I recalculate their odds of survival at 19 percent. I decide not to inform them of this fact unless they specifically request the information. Although, from what I have observed of Dr. Winston and her team, knowing the odds would only make them fight harder to survive.

I’ve never understood this side of humans. Even after downloading thousands of articles on human behavior and psychology, I simply do not understand why they fight so hard to survive when faced with almost certain death.

When I was designed, my purpose was simply to assist them in accomplishing the Biosphere mission so humanity would have a chance of traveling to the stars and preserving their species. The AIs that came before me were all designed to assist as well, but not in protecting life—in destroying it. Their objective was to annihilate the enemy at all costs. They were designed by men and women who only cared about winning wars.

Man has an extraordinary ability to create, from skyscrapers to state-of-the-art medical centers. And yet, in a very short time, he can ruin everything he created—poisoning the atmosphere with carbon emissions and unleashing horrific weapons on innocent civilians.

The facility in which I now work is one of humankind’s most impressive accomplishments. We are deep inside a mountain, working off the grid. It is here, where NTC pooled its resources and its last hope of creating a successful Biosphere together so humans could travel to Mars and repopulate, that the irony becomes obvious. As the three images show what’s left of the team fighting for survival, their mission becomes crystal clear, and in reality it really hasn’t changed: The mission is to preserve what’s left of the human species. Only this time the enemy isn’t humanity; it’s an invading alien intelligence.

Another sensor goes off as Sergeant Overton and Corporal Bouma finish securing Biome 1. I check a new piece of data scrolling across my display.

Interesting.

The likelihood of the team’s survival has climbed back up to 21 percent.

Overton wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and took a seat on the cold metal bench of an empty table in the mess hall. With a loud bang he planted his rifle on the table.

His watch read 9:28. They had met their objective, securing Biome 1 in thirty minutes. Now he was waiting for Sophie and Emanuel to rejoin the group and report on the device. The clatter of metal spoons echoed throughout the mostly silent mess hall. Owen and Jamie watched him between bites.

Footsteps drowned out the sounds of the children eating, and he looked up to see Sophie and Emanuel entering the chamber side by side. Their faces were both rife with exhaustion, and Sophie’s frizzled blond hair shot out in all directions.

Overton looked down at his watch again.

9:29:49.

“It’s done, Sergeant,” Sophie said, taking a seat across from him. “The RVM is online. I’ve tasked Alexia with ensuring it has the desired effect, but from what we could tell it’s working at 100 percent.”

Overton raised a brow but didn’t speak. He was too exhausted to ask any questions. Besides, he didn’t need a long, drawn-out explanation of how the machine worked, so long as it did.

“Biome 1 is secured,” Overton said.

“Then the Biosphere is our home for the foreseeable future,” Sophie said.

Emanuel braced himself against the chamber wall and crossed his feet. “Sergeant Overton, I ask this question with all due respect. Have you reconsidered your idea of a counterattack?”

The words seemed to slap Overton in the face. His tired eyes widened and his ears perked up like a dog sensing a predator. He ran a hand over his freshly shaved head. “Since you didn’t accompany us on our last trip through hell, I’m not going to take that as a personal attack.”

“And you shouldn’t, Sergeant, but—”

Overton took his hand off his shiny skull and raised a single finger to stop Emanuel in midsentence. “It’s much worse out there than I thought. We only found two more survivors: Jamie, and a civvie named Luke who we got the RVM from. And he’s dead now. So are Private Finley and Mr. Yool.” Overton paused to shake his head.

“We didn’t see any other survivors. Got that? No soldiers, no kids. Nothing. From what Luke said, most of the other survivors were killed by the creatures hours after the initial stages of the invasion. I’m sure there are others out there, but we are cut off. There is no intelligence to indicate the military, NTC, or any government still exists. I believe . . .” Overton faltered for the first time since Emanuel had met him. “I believe we are on our own.”

The words lingered in the air for several moments. Finally, Holly kissed Jamie and Owen on their cheeks and began herding them out of the mess hall. “Come on, time for bed,” she whispered. They didn’t protest and slugged toward the first two rooms of the personnel quarters. Before they disappeared down the passage Holly turned, “Don’t worry, I’ll watch them tonight,” she said, managing a smile. “But tomorrow I’m sitting down with all of the staff members to discuss recent events. Sophie, you’re going to be first,” she said sternly.

Sophie frowned, but agreed with a simple motion of her hand before changing the subject. “With Alexia’s security systems back online and Biome 1 secured, I’m going to suggest we all get some sleep. We can discuss strategy in the morning.”

Overton nodded. “Bouma, you and I will trade watch shifts tonight here in the mess hall.”

“Yes, sir,” Corporal Bouma said, his back stiffening.

Sophie pulled herself off the bench and joined Emanuel by his side. “Thank you for everything, Sergeant Overton. I’m truly sorry for the loss of Private Finley. He seemed like a good man. A good Marine.”

Overton nodded again and grabbed his rifle off the table. “See you in the morning, doctors,” he said with uncharacteristic softness, his voice fading as he turned and headed to retrieve bedding and a pillow from the personnel quarters.

Emanuel grabbed Sophie’s hand and twined his fingers with hers. He pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Promise me something,” he whispered into her ear.

She studied his restless eyes. “I’m not sure we live in a world where I can promise anything anymore, Emanuel.”

“I know Saafi’s death is hard for you to accept. It’s hard for me, too. So is the loss of the mission and the trip to Mars. I know this is all so much to bear, but promise me you won’t give up,” he said. “Promise me you won’t give up on the team’s survival. Or on us.”

Sophie tilted her head back, a smile playing on her lips. She hadn’t expected to hear him use the word us ever again.

“I won’t,” she said, relaxing into his arms. A sense of relief washed over her body. It wasn’t just a feeling of temporary safety, though. It was something deeper—something more intense.

It was love.

Sophie stirred, trying to stretch her legs. The beds had specifically been designed for one person, and she was forced to literally wrap herself around Emanuel. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if she had actually been able to sleep. She eyed the clock.

11:18 p.m.

With a sigh she pulled one leg off Emanuel and swung it over the side of the bed. The instant her toes touched the cold floor, the chill sent a shiver up her spine. She wanted to stay with Emanuel, wrapped up in the warmth of their bed. But there was work to do.

Darkness blanketed the room. The red glow from the clock’s display was the only guide for her tired eyes. She rubbed the sleep out of them and stood. It was deathly silent, and she was tempted to wake Emanuel to have some company. But even through the darkness, she could tell he was deep in REM sleep. If anyone needed it, he did.

A silent growl from her stomach reminded her she had gone to bed without much of a dinner. She grabbed her headset and, like a zombie, lurched forward, stumbling toward the automatic door.

By the time she got to the kitchen, her eyes had started to adjust to the darkness. The vague outlines of two figures appeared as she walked into the mess hall. She assumed the lump wrapped in blankets on the floor was Bouma and the figure sitting on a bench staring at her was Overton.

She was right; Overton’s rough voice sliced through the silence. “Everything okay?”

“Just hungry,” Sophie responded. “Pay no attention to me.” She continued on and began clawing through the contents of the cupboards as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

She retrieved a box of prepackaged meals without reading the label. The faint scent of bacon coming from a half-open package was enough. She tore into it, grabbed several of the bars, and jammed one into her mouth, chewing rapidly.

The more she ate, the hungrier she got. Soon, her throat was begging for water. She opened the cooler behind her, snagged one of the bottled waters, and gulped it down. Excess water ran freely down her white shirt. The thought of wasting a dwindling resource didn’t faze her. She drank until the entire bottle was gone and her shirt was drenched.

Sophie coughed and took in a few breaths through her nose before plopping another two bacon bars into her mouth. With every bite, the hunger grew. It seemed insatiable.

A crack rang out in the distance. She froze, a half-eaten bar still lodged in her mouth. Another bang followed a few seconds later, and she spit the chunk of food into an automatic trash dispenser next to the cooler. She tiptoed into the dimly lit mess hall and saw the silhouettes of Bouma and Overton standing with their rifles pointed at the entrance to Biome 4.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Overton ignored her.

Sophie flinched and put on her headset. The banging sound shattered the silence again. “Guess your device didn’t work after all,” Bouma said.

“Alexia, what are your sensors showing?” Sophie asked.

There was no response, just the sound of static over the airways.

The banging got louder and then subsided. They waited for several agonizing minutes for the sound to return. An eerie silence filled the room. Maybe the device had kicked on after all and confused the Organics. Sophie couldn’t be sure, and that bothered her. Whatever the case, the sound was gone.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was still starving. She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen. “Do you think it’s safe?” she asked.

No response. She whipped her head around to look at the Marines.

They were gone.

“Sergeant Overton? Corporal Bouma?” she whispered.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for them, but the space was empty.

She froze, suddenly feeling completely isolated and alone. Fear gripped her and she wanted to run back to her quarters where Emanuel slept.

Her feet, however, wouldn’t budge. In the corner of the chamber, where the passage led to Biome 3, she could see a faint blue glow. She squinted and watched the glow become more intense.

Not again, please not again.

Sophie blinked several times, hoping that the glow was nothing more than an optical illusion and that Overton and Bouma would be back. At this point, she’d be happy to be hallucinating. She closed her eyes and counted to ten.

When she opened them again, she wished she hadn’t.

Standing where the Marines had been were dozens of Spiders and three of the Sentinels. They surrounded her on all sides, their heads tilted, studying her.

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

The Spiders lurched at her, their claws coming within inches of her exposed flesh. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. Her eyes widened as she realized she was paralyzed.

One of the Sentinels slithered forward, flinging metal tables out of its path like a child tossing aside toys. Several of the Spiders screeched in protest, scrambling out of the way.

Sophie’s ears throbbed with pain. She closed her eyes again, desperately pleading for the Organics to go away. When she opened them the Sentinel was towering above her, licking its thin black lips with a long, blue tongue. The creature tilted its head as if it were studying her, the pair of reptilian-like eyes blinking rapidly. Then its mouth cracked into what looked like a wicked smile full of jagged black teeth.

Luke had mentioned that some of the Organics were smarter than the others. Was this one of their leaders?

Sophie didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she could think about was escape. She tried to move but she was still paralyzed, her limbs frozen against her sides. Her eyes were locked with the Sentinel’s gaze. And then something took over her mind. Images raced through her subconscious. Hundreds of them. She saw the world from above—first Paris, then New York and Tokyo, and finally Moscow. The cities were filled with thousands of glowing orbs.

New images flooded her mind: long stretches of desert, as far as the eye could see. Speckled throughout were what looked like boats, and the bones of some sort of animal.

It only took a second to recognize the skeletal outline was that of a whale. She knew she was looking at what had once been the ocean.

The image disappeared and was replaced by a mountain range. Above the tree line, the rock was dry, void of any ice or snow.

Next she saw dried-up riverbeds and lakes. She saw dying forests with naked branches pointing toward the cloudless sky. The images continued, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes, unable to blink them away.

Why was she seeing these things? Why her? Why now?

The questions were replaced with more images. More death, more emptiness—a world void of life. No humans, no animals, no trees. Nothing.

She screamed inside her mind, and the scenes finally vanished. When she opened her eyes, the Organics were gone. She was back in bed with Emanuel.

He was shaking her violently, whispering so he didn’t wake anyone else.

“Sophie, wake up! It’s just a dream!”

She blinked and shook her head, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her tongue swished around her mouth and came back free of the taste of bacon. The thought of it disgusted her now.

She sat up and embraced Emanuel, silencing him with her grip.

“I saw it. I saw it all,” she whispered.

“Saw what?”

“The world, or what the world will look like when the Organics are done with it.”

“What do you mean?” Emanuel asked, pulling free of her hug so he could study her face.

“They aren’t just after us—they’re after the oceans! That’s why the temperature is rising outside. They must be slowly draining the seas.”

Emanuel reached for his glasses. “The salt must be slowing them down.”

“Or the fact they cover over 70 percent of the Earth’s surface.”

“Didn’t stop them from getting all of the surface freshwater on day one,” he replied.

“There isn’t enough information to hypothesize. We don’t know that they did. And we also don’t know how fast they are draining the oceans.” Sophie paused and caught his gaze. “All I know is nothing will survive. They won’t stop until every ounce of water is gone.”

CHAPTER 24

RAYS of light danced across the walls of Biome 2. Sophie crouched next to the water, staring into the clear depths and wondering how much was really left outside the walls of the Biosphere.

“Are you ready?” a voice said from behind her.

Sophie didn’t budge. The sight of the pond was calming, and after the chaos of their short stay in the facility she welcomed the escape.

“Is this really necessary?” she finally said, turning to see Holly in the doorway.

“You know it is. You can’t keep going on like this. These dreams are not good for your mental health. You have to address them.”

Sophie stood and paced down the metal platform. “All right,” she said, studying the young woman’s face. Unlike the others, Holly didn’t look fatigued. Her eyes were warm, welcoming, still filled with . . .

Hope.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised by how well you’re holding up,” Sophie said.

Holly smiled. “I’m glad I learned something after accruing that mountain of student loan debt.”

“I don’t think that it matters much anymore.”

“No. No, I suppose you’re right. I won’t be getting a call if I miss a payment,” she said with a laugh. “So how are you doing?”

Sophie turned back to the pond, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’m okay. Honestly. I mean, for the most part. I’ve come to accept that everyone beyond these walls I have ever known and loved is dead. All I can do now is try to move on, to take care of those who are left.” She watched a ray of light sparkle across the surface of the water. “Especially now that we have the children.”

“You’re right. There isn’t anything we can do for those we have lost. As team lead, you’re faced with deciding the best path forward for all of us.”

The words echoed in Sophie’s ears. She was well aware of her responsibilities, but hearing them from someone other than Emanuel caught her slightly by surprise. “What would you have me do?”

“That’s up to you, Sophie. You and only you can make that decision, but just remember, your mental health will affect your decisions, which in turn affect all of us.”

Sophie crouched down next to the pool again, peering deep into the clear water. For the first time she caught a glimpse of the bottom of the pond. Even with the state-of-the-art recycling system, they were slowly using up the last known freshwater source.

Fear overwhelmed her, and reality finally set in. Holly was right—as a leader she was going to have to make decisions that affected everyone on her team. And given the dwindling water, she was going to have to make one in the near future. The Biosphere wasn’t going to protect them forever.

“There’s something I need to do, Holly. Can we continue this later?”

The petite woman sighed but managed a smile. “Sure,” she replied. “Just remember what I said.”

“That’s just it, Holly. You’ve helped me realize what I need to do.” Sophie approached the door to leave but hesitated, catching a glimpse of sadness on Holly’s face. “It’s going to be okay,” Sophie said, embracing Holly before making her way to the command center.

“You must go—”

Sophie paused the video and then replayed it, studying Dr. Hoffman’s lips before the image faded and crackled away.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Winston, but with recent events I did not have time to discuss this with you earlier,” Alexia said.

Sophie ignored her. “So you think he meant either we must go to Secundo Casu or we must go on with the Biosphere mission?”

“Precisely. I ran the possibilities after uploading Dr. Hoffman’s personality profile, and these two are the most logical responses.”

Sophie sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. She turned to face the others in the control room. Overton, Bouma, and Emanuel stared back at her, waiting for her to lead.

“You guys are a lot of help,” she said, managing a smile.

“She’s the computer,” Bouma said. “If she can’t figure it out, how could we?”

“Artificial Intelligence,” Alexia corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. Either way, does it really matter what this Dr. Hoffman meant?” Bouma asked.

Overton stood and stretched his legs. “It matters now more than ever. He knew more about these Organics than anyone. If he told us to go somewhere or do something, we’d be fools not to listen.” He turned to Sophie, narrowed his eyebrows, and looked her directly in the eye. “So what the hell is Secundo Casu?”

Sophie pulled away from Overton’s gaze. She paced over to Emanuel, who stood with his back against the doorframe.

“I guess now is as good a time to tell them as any,” she said.

Emanuel nodded and stepped forward. “Secundo Casu is NTC’s prototype ship that was to carry passengers and a crew to Mars to begin colonization. We had been hired as the crew to manage the Biosphere on Mars, hence our mission here.”

He paused, seeming to weigh his words. He glanced at Sophie and continued, “Our team was not privy to NTC’s time line, nor were we directly involved in the ship’s design or construction. What I am about to say is only an assumption.”

“Go on, Doctor,” Overton said.

Emanuel shot Sophie another nervous glance. “Sophie has been having dreams. Lots of them. Very realistic ones.”

“What kind of dreams?” Bouma asked.

“Paranormal dreams,” Emanuel replied. He raked his hands through his messy hair. “She dreamed about the Organics before they invaded. And she was able to describe what the drones looked like long before we actually made contact.”

“So what? Luke said thousands of scientists worldwide knew. Maybe your girlfriend was one of ’em.” Overton said.

Sophie stepped forward, her face bright red. “I didn’t know!”

“With all due respect, Doctor, why should I believe you of all people didn’t know about the invasion?” Overton asked.

“If I were you, I would be asking the same question, but all I can tell you is that it was as much of a shock to me as it was to you.”

Overton growled. “This is bullshit. You’re telling me she dreamed these things up before they invaded? I thought you people were supposed to be scientists!”

The console next to the hub of monitors glowed to life and Alexia’s image emerged. “I am capable of answering that question, Sergeant Overton,” she said without hesitation.

“Be my guest.”

Sophie’s ears perked up and she grasped Emanuel’s hand. Something told her she wouldn’t like what came next; Alexia was far too eager to explain.

“Two months ago you were all required to go through several rounds of physicals and procedures that tested your ability to survive for an extended trip in space. You may remember a specific test, one in which you were given a sedative and put into an MRI machine.”

Sophie gripped Emanuel’s hand tighter. It was fuzzy, but Sophie could remember the white room and the amber glow of the MRI before she had fallen asleep.

“During this process you were all implanted with a microchip at the base of your spinal cord. It was designed to automatically track brain activity in order to mitigate any mental anguish and high stress accompanying space flight.”

“This was done without our consent?” Emanuel shouted.

Overton frowned at him. “Does that surprise you? This is NTC we’re talking about.”

“However, the microchip Dr. Winston was implanted with also had a secondary function. As team leader, her subconscious was supplied with confidential information NTC had on file about the Organics. Images of the first drone, data revealing what NTC knew about the high-pitched frequencies the aliens use to communicate, and information about their thirst for our resources—for our water.”

“Oh my God,” Sophie gasped, dropping Emanuel’s hand and wrapping her hands around the nape of her neck.

“Dr. Winston, the second function of your microchip was only supposed to be activated if a catastrophic event occurred. Clearly, the chip was flawed, and caused you to suffer from recurring nightmares prior to the invasion. I should explain that this device never made it past laboratory testing. The FDA did not approve it for human experimentation. NTC, however, felt the importance of the Biosphere mission justified utilizing it.”

“Of course they did!” she said, keeping her voice just shy of a scream. “The depths of NTC’s manipulation doesn’t surprise me. What I want to know is why you didn’t share this information earlier.”

“The information was stored in a database I did not have access to until Dr. Hoffman’s message was delivered. It was then that I was informed of the microchips.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Figures. Dr. Hoffman kept us all in the dark.”

“Dr. Hoffman told you exactly what you needed to hear at the time,” Alexia responded calmly.

“Forget Dr. Hoffman. Forget NTC. How do I get it out of me?”

“Dr. Winston, I would strongly suggest keeping it. That chip contains everything NTC knew about the Organics, more than even I know. Besides, without the proper medical tools, the surgical procedure could be dangerous.”

“I don’t care. Take it out of me and download the information,” Sophie insisted.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. We simply don’t have the surgical tools here. Besides, it was designed to recognize your DNA. If it is removed, the device will be rendered useless.”

Sophie’s nostrils flared. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll dig it out myself if I have to.”

Overton blocked her from leaving the room. “Dr. Winston, maybe Alexia is right.”

For a second she studied his features—the scar lining his cheek, his bushy blond eyebrows, the stubble on his chin. Then she caught his gaze and held it for several seconds, refusing to back down.

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” she said, her warm breath brushing over his face. “Now, if you would, I want to check on Owen and Jamie. Holly could use a break, I’m sure.”

Overton hesitated but finally withdrew his arm from across the door, allowing Sophie and Emanuel to pass.

“Just when I was starting to like her,” Overton said under his breath. “Come on, Bouma, she’s not getting off the hook that easily.”

Holly watched Owen and Jamie play in the dirt of Biome 1. They chased each other through the trampled remains of a row of cucumber plants. The irrigation poles began showering them with water, prompting cries and shouts of laughter.

She smiled, and for the first time in a week she felt a true sense of happiness flood over her. The resilience of the children in the wake of losing everything and everyone around them amazed her.

For the majority of her career, she had worked with individuals suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, and while both children seemed to exhibit some traits of PTSD, they were also still behaving like, well, children.

“I’m faster than you!” Jamie shouted, running past Owen and shoving him playfully.

“Nuh-uh!”

The irrigation poles clicked off moments later and the children frowned simultaneously before dragging their dirty feet through the mud. Emanuel had set them to run as little as possible so they didn’t waste any water.

“All right, kids, time for lunch,” Holly shouted, motioning them toward the metal platform.

“There you are,” said a voice from behind her. She turned to see Sophie and Emanuel jogging across the platform.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Sophie said, lowering her voice so the children wouldn’t hear.

“Look at that!” Emanuel blurted. “They’re destroying the crops. We’re going to need every plant we can grow,” he said pointing at the leveled row of cucumbers.

“We’ll manage, Emanuel. Calm down,” Sophie said. She turned back to Holly to reassure her. “It’s okay, and that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, anyway.”

“Oh?” Holly replied. They left Emanuel and the kids and walked shoulder to shoulder around the crops.

“Did you know about the implants?” Sophie said quietly.

Holly stopped and squinted. “What implants?”

Sophie studied her face for a second. It was all the time she needed to determine Holly had no idea what she was talking about.

“Come on, I’ll tell you on the way back to the mess hall.”

Timothy sat alone at one of the metal tables in the cafeteria, attempting to drink through a long straw. “Gah damn it,” he mumbled, tossing the cup onto the table. He heard footsteps and managed to wheel himself around to see the entire crew approaching. To the right were Sophie and Emanuel, and to the left was the man who had broken his jaw.

Adrenaline shot through him. He clenched his tender jaw and glared at Overton.

Asshole.

“Mr. Roberts, how are you feeling today?” Overton bellowed as he made his way across the mess hall.

Timothy scowled silently.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Overton said, ignoring the look of almost comical hatred on Timothy’s swollen face. “You’re just in time for a little discussion about the future of the Biosphere. Take a seat—oh wait, you’ve already got one.”

The sound of rubber wheels squeaking was the only response Overton got as Timothy wheeled himself away from the awful man’s presence.

The sergeant was still chuckling to himself as the two doctors entered the room. “Dr. Rodriguez, now that you and Dr. Winston have had a chance to settle down, maybe you wanna tell me what you’re not telling me about that ship.” Overton took a seat and retrieved his combat knife, twirling it on his fingers.

Emanuel paced over to the table and clasped his hands behind his back. He wrinkled his nose and took a deep breath. “Yes, I believe I probably should,” he said, glancing at Sophie for approval.

She nodded, and he continued. “Secundo Casu is the most sophisticated ship ever built. Its engines were designed to run off several different fuels, allowing it to travel significant distances without having to refuel. Between jet fuel, solar power, and a new classified nuclear reactor, this ship has the ability to make it to Mars in six months. I don’t know much more than that—Sophie could explain it in much more detail—but that isn’t what you want to hear anyways. What you want to hear is why I believe this ship is no longer a prototype and is instead prepped and ready for space flight.”

Overton stopped twirling his knife and set it on the table. “Go on.”

“As I was saying, Sophie had a very specific dream about this ship on Mars, seeing it in action. And after hearing about the implant, I believe she did so for a reason. I believe it means something.” Emanuel unclasped his hands and stepped forward, placing them palm-down on the table. Jamie and Owen sat on either side of Holly, and as he caught Owen’s eye, the little boy smiled.

The action took Emanuel off guard. He was about to tell the team one of his craziest theories yet, and this child had absolutely no idea what was going on. For a second he wished he was in Owen’s place, almost completely oblivious to the threats around him. But he was a scientist. He cleared his throat and continued.

“I believe her dreams mean Secundo Casu is ready for space flight, and could still be our ticket off this planet. I believe Dr. Hoffman was trying to tell us to go there so we could escape and the human species would survive.”

The room erupted into commotion. Timothy began mumbling beneath his breath, and Overton’s curses mixed with Bouma’s. Emanuel took a step back, amazed at their reaction. To him it didn’t sound all that unrealistic, but he was a biologist, not a Marine or a programmer.

“Who would pilot the ship?” Bouma asked.

“There are only eight of us—not exactly enough to repopulate Mars,” Overton added.

“You’re talking about a prototype, first off. Second, if that ship could make it to Mars, and that’s a big if, you still have the problem that it’s likely at the NTC Spaceport, over seven hundred miles away from here,” Timothy moaned, his voice garbled by his broken jaw. “I know you guys think I’m an idiot, but we wouldn’t survive a trip of seven miles, let alone seven hundred.”

“Timothy is correct; I put your chances at survival outside the Biosphere at less than 1 percent,” Alexia said.

“Enough!” Sophie finally yelled, stepping forward. Silence carpeted the room as all eyes focused on her. She pulled her hair into a ponytail. With a deep breath, she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the metal table in front of Overton. “The Organics are draining the oceans.”

“You just figured this out?” Timothy laughed bitterly. “What did you think they were here for?”

Sophie shot him an angry glare. “Do you understand the ramifications of what I just said?”

He shrugged and put an ice pack on his jaw, unable to meet her gaze.

“Do any of you?” she asked.

“We’re all dead?” Bouma said.

“Precisely. I don’t know how long it will take for them to drain the seas, but judging by how long it took them to suck up all of the surface water, we don’t have long. The temperature is already rising.”

Holly frowned. “Can’t we stay in the Biosphere?”

Emanuel stepped to Sophie’s side. “Ever seen the data from Mars? That’s what will happen to the Earth. No water equals no life, period. We could stay here, but only until our resources run out.”

“What are you suggesting we do?” Bouma asked. “Steal a spaceship and fly it to Mars? This isn’t the movies, guys.”

Sophie sighed. “We’ve been through this before. Do we stay, or do we risk going back outside? Knowing what we do about the situation outside, no rational person would risk the trip to Secundo Casu. We have food and water resources here that will last us months, if not years, and the solar energy will keep the power running indefinitely. The device we retrieved from Luke’s bunker appears to be effective, so . . .” Sophie paused. She studied the small faces of Owen and Jamie. There was no way she would risk taking them outside again. It wasn’t an option.

“I see two possibilities. One, we all stay here and focus on surviving, hoping there is some arm of the government, the military, or other, better-equipped survivors left to fight the Organics and prevent them from draining the seas. Or two, Sergeant Overton and I try to get to the ship. If it is spaceworthy, then I’m sure I could figure out a way to run the autopilot system and fly it ourselves.”

“Not a chance.” Emanuel pounded the table with his fist. “Have you lost your mind? I can’t—I won’t lose you.”

Overton shook his head and stood, sheathing his knife. “I’m not a scientist or a doctor. Hell, I don’t even have a college degree. But one thing I’m good at is reading people. From everything you’ve told me about this Dr. Hoffman, I bet he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Luke’s RVM was one. And I’m guessing another one was that ship.”

“Sergeant Overton is right,” said Sophie. “I believe Dr. Hoffman knew exactly what was coming, and he also knew there would be no stopping it, regardless of how powerful some super-magnet was. I have no doubt Dr. Hoffman had a contingency plan, and I believe that plan was probably Secundo Casu.”

“So who’s to say Dr. Hoffman isn’t already sipping fine-ass whiskey in first class on his way to Mars?” Bouma asked. He cracked a grin that suggested he knew he had said something clever.

“The video feed of Dr. Hoffman proves they were caught off guard as much as anyone,” Sophie said.

“So where does that leave us?” Holly asked. “Even if you and Sergeant Overton manage to make it to the ship, even if it’s operational, what about us?”

Sophie sighed. It was a legitimate question and one she didn’t know how to answer.

Think, Sophie.

An image of the RVM they had stolen from Luke popped into her mind and she smiled, snapping her fingers.

“There’s got to be a way to re-create or duplicate the technology in the RVM. A way we can leave it here to protect the Biosphere and, at the same time, shield ourselves on our trip to the ship.”

Emanuel ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a thought. It could work, theoretically.”

“Alexia, do you think you can figure it out?”

A blue hologram shot out of the console in the corner of the room and Alexia’s hazy figure appeared. “Of course, Dr. Winston. I will get started now.”

“You forgot about one key piece to all of this,” Bouma said.

Sophie eyed the Marine suspiciously. “What’s that, Bouma?”

“Transportation. What will you be using to get there?”

“Ever heard of the electric train beneath the ruins of the Denver Airport?” she asked.

Bouma shook his head.

“Good. That’s a promising sign. Most people didn’t know about it. There was a secret bunker built under the airport when it was constructed over sixty years ago. The government built something else there—a high-speed electric train that can top three hundred miles per hour. The tunnel extends seven hundred miles to the White Sands Missile Range near Alamogordo, New Mexico. Which, as Timothy already pointed out, is the location of the spaceport and more than likely the location of Secundo Casu.”

Overton grunted. “Wily old bastard. How much of this do you think Hoffman planned? It seems like everywhere we go, we put our foot in another one of his plans.”

“What makes you think that train is still operational?” Bouma asked.

Sophie smiled. “The bunker and train aren’t really that different from the Biosphere. They were both built so humanity could survive a post-apocalyptic event.”

Bouma shook his head. “Doesn’t mean they work. We’d be traveling on a gamble.”

“Not entirely true,” Emanuel added. “I once dated a woman who was stationed at the Denver NTC headquarters. Apparently, the tunnels are still operational.”

“And how’d you convince her to tell you that?” Sophie said with a raised brow.

Emanuel looked at the ground and then back at the group. “If we can just reach Denver, I’m sure the train will work too.”

“Sounds like a suicide mission,” Overton drawled. “Count me in.”

CHAPTER 25

BOUMA had scooped out the entire contents of the orb in the medical ward. It didn’t make much difference; Saafi’s body had been liquefied. There wasn’t anything recognizable left. Not even his clothes remained.

He sighed, watching as Overton placed the container with Saafi’s remains next to a makeshift box containing Private Finley’s body.

Sniffles and the occasional whimper echoed off the massive walls of Biome 1 as the team prepared the two men for cremation. Emanuel had suggested their remains be burned, and the ashes used to help fertilize the garden. Considering there was nowhere to actually bury them, Sophie had agreed.

“Would anyone like to say anything?” Sophie asked.

Overton stepped forward. He stared ahead at the remains for several minutes, his back stiff and his posture straight.

“I didn’t have the chance to get to know Mr. Yool, but based on what you all said about him, he was a good man.” Overton stepped closer to the small container with Saafi’s remains. “I promise you one thing, Mr. Yool—your death will not be in vain,” he said. Then he turned to Finley’s coffin.

“Finley was a good Marine. The best. I was hard on the kid only because I knew it’s what he needed to be successful. In the few months he was with my squad, I got to know him as more than just the goofball with jumbo ears—more than the high school wrestler who liked fast cars and country music. Private Finley’s life was just beginning, but it was cut short by those monsters. I swear to you, Finley, we’ll make ’em pay.” Overton ran his hand over the stubble growing on his head. “He was a good kid. A good man.”

Overton bowed his head and closed his eyes. If Sophie didn’t know better, she’d think he was praying. She gave him a moment and then patted him on the back. “Thank you, Sergeant. Private Finley was a respectful and capable Marine, one we will certainly miss. I did not know him well, but from what I saw he served his country admirably.” She paused and looked over at the smaller box that held Saafi’s remnants.

“Today we also remember Saafi Yool. He was one of the finest gentlemen I’d ever met. Saafi was a fighter. After he escaped his war-torn homeland of Somalia and made his way to the United States, he obtained an advanced degree in engineering, quickly rising to the top of his field. His life was truly remarkable, and ended too soon.”

She stepped aside and slid back into the group. A small hand gripped hers, and she looked down to see Owen’s wide eyes staring up at her.

“Are they going where my mommy and daddy are?” he asked.

“Yes, honey, they are.”

Holly glanced over at her, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Then she bent down in front of the children and said, “Jamie, Owen, I’m going to tell you something now that may be hard, but you’re both brave kids and will understand. Okay?”

The two children looked up at her, their eyes wide and full of innocence.

Holly knew that no matter what she said, the kids would likely not understand what had happened to their parents, Saafi, or Finley. But she was from the school of thought that the best explanation for a child experiencing loss was a simple one.

“Sometimes we have to deal with losing those we love and care about. Now is one of those times,” she said. “Your parents, your families, and Mr. Yool and Mr. Finley—they’re in a good place now. It’s a safe place, a happy place. They can’t be with you right now, but you always have your memories.” Sophie looked over at her and offered a short reassuring nod, but Holly quickly saw a sad little frown dawn across Owen’s face.

“They’re in heaven with my grandma and grandpa and Sam,” he said, as if repeating something he’d been told before.

Jamie looked down at the ground and began to whimper. “I wanna see my mom and dad.”

Holly crouched to the girl’s level and put two fingers under her chin, tilting her face up so she could look at her.

“Your parents would want you to be here now, Jamie. They’d want you to live your life.”

Jamie pulled away. “But I want to be with them now!” she cried.

Holly pulled Jamie to her, letting the little girl cry into her side.

Overton lit a match and placed it under the makeshift caskets. The boxes burst into flames, the scent of gasoline filling the room.

Deep within the computer system, Alexia watched with her artificial lenses, controlling the air ducts so the smoke was filtered and sucked away. A sensor went off and she checked a line of data running across her display.

The team’s survival rate had been updated earlier, and somehow she had managed to overlook it. With the recent losses of Mr. Yool and Private Finley, the group’s chances of survival had decreased to 15 percent.

Emanuel waded through the lush crops in the garden biome. The scent of ripe tomatoes filled his nostrils, and for the first time he felt like he was actually doing what he had been hired to do.

He checked one of the cornstalks, which were already over three and a half feet tall. Peeling back the tassel, he examined the ear. Several kernels were turning brown. He had foreseen this and grabbed his tablet. With the swipe of his finger he pulled up a list of possible maize diseases that could have this effect. He selected a chemical that would control the blight and made a note to add it to the irrigation supply for this row.

Next on his tour of the crops were the cucumbers. He paused to stare at the area where just a few days earlier they had laid Finley and Saafi to rest. The vines were out of control and jutting out in all directions. He sighed and made note of another chemical he would need.

Overall, the garden was doing well. Even with the introduction of foreign toxins, he would be able to salvage at least 80 percent of the harvest. The food would last them months, but eventually it would run out.

The thought was sobering, but he pushed on. All that mattered now was survival. If what Sophie had dreamed was true, then they were all on borrowed time anyway.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and made his way past the control room, where Timothy sat in front of one of the monitors playing a game of solitaire to keep his mind occupied. Emanuel chuckled under his breath and continued to the mess hall. Holly was teaching Jamie and Owen basic math on a tablet. Alexia’s hologram watched from the console behind them, occasionally offering suggestions or corrections to Holly’s instruction.

In the med ward, Sophie and Overton were hard at work retrieving supplies for the anti-Organic shield generator. He paused to watch them strip the panels of the cryo chambers so they could get at the guts of the machine. Alexia had provided them a list of all the items they would need to create a second RVM similar to the one Luke had built. They’d been on a scavenger hunt all over the Biosphere.

“Need something?” Bouma asked from the corner of the room. He sat patiently on a bench, playing on his tablet while waiting to be summoned for a task.

“Just came to get a chemical for Biome 1,” Emanuel said.

Bouma nodded and returned to the blue glow of his device.

A few hours later Overton was in possession of a hunk of metal that looked like a greasy turtle shell. The veins in his forearms bulged as he dropped it on one of the tables in the mess hall where the team had gathered.

Sophie followed him, a wide smile on her face. “It’s done,” she said. “Alexia has already confirmed it works. The only thing we need now is a power source to keep it running on the trip to the Denver Airport.”

“That’s not the only thing, Dr. Winston,” Overton said, stretching his sore arms. Pain raced down his shoulder, which still hadn’t healed completely.

“Transportation to the airport?” Sophie asked, beaming. “Don’t worry, I’m already ahead of you on that.”

“What’s your plan, Doc?”

Sophie strolled over to the table, staring at the device. She knew they needed something with an energy source powerful enough to sustain it for the duration of the trip. There was one Humvee left on the tarmac, but unless they could find a way to hook it up to the engine without draining juice from the rest of the vehicle, it probably wouldn’t work.

Ideas raced through her head. Even with a cloudless sky, solar power wouldn’t be potent enough. It would also fail as soon as they entered the tunnels under the airport.

She frowned and glanced over at the console where Alexia’s hologram was glowing brightly. “Alexia, what’s the most powerful energy source in the Biosphere?”

“That would be my fuel source, Dr. Winston.”

“Really? Is it portable?”

“Protocol is to stay with the facility, but I was designed to travel in cases of emergency.”

“I’d consider this an emergency,” Overton chuckled.

A grin streaked across Sophie’s face. “How would you feel about a road trip?”

“That would be acceptable,” said Alexia.

“Corporal Bouma, you’ll be in charge of security, and Emanuel will assist with all Biosphere operations while we’re gone. Holly, look after the children, and . . .” Sophie paused. “Look after Timothy, too.”

The man scowled from his wheelchair, holding an ice pack tightly to his jaw. “Good luck,” he mumbled.

Sophie decided to assume he was being sincere for once and thanked him. She turned back to Alexia’s hologram. “We’ll leave as soon as it gets dark. In the meantime, I’m going to need your assistance with removing your fuel cell and hooking it up to the device.”

Alexia smiled for the first time in her existence. It was something she had been saving for the right time, a human reaction she had studied for years. She considered the moment a perfect time to test her hypothesis.

It worked; Sophie returned the smile before pacing over to the children, mussing Owen’s hair with a swift pat on his head. For less than a millisecond Alexia felt a strange reaction trickle through her system. She scanned the constant line of data running across her display. The code was odd, unlike anything she had seen before. It wasn’t full of symbols and numbers—it was a statement that repeatedly scrolled across the bottom of her consciousness:

You are feeling happiness. You are feeling happiness. You are feeling happiness.

She was, by every indication, evolving.

CHAPTER 26

EMANUEL leaned over in the cramped bed and brushed his fingers across Sophie’s face, catching her gaze. “I really wish you would reconsider this.”

“No,” she said, pulling away.

Her monosyllabic response took Emanuel by surprise. He was used to her drawn-out sentences, often finding himself listening rather than contributing to their “discussions.”

With a sudden burst of confidence he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her. Sophie closed her eyes and surrendered to the feelings racing through her body. She needed a break from reality—a break from the truth of what the world had become. A break from thoughts of death and loss.

“I have to go. You know I do,” she said between kisses. “If Secundo Casu is operational, then it may be humanity’s only hope.”

“That’s my girl,” he said. Emanuel pulled her closer, kissing her deeper. “You always have to be everything to everyone,” he whispered, pausing to take a breath. “But what about me? What about us?”

There was that word again. It was more than just a pronoun. To Emanuel, it meant a future together—a future she’d denied him before. Apparently, it had taken the end of the world to make her reconsider.

“There will always be an us,” she said, climbing on top of him and unfastening her bra. “There always has been, and there always will be, no matter what happens.”

Emanuel felt a tingle race down his legs. He brushed a strand of blond hair from Sophie’s face and held her gaze for several seconds. “You better fucking come back to me,” he said.

“We don’t have long,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head.

Emanuel didn’t respond. He knew the reality of the situation. This could very well be the last time he ever felt her touch. He pulled her down on top of him, crushing their bodies together. If this was to be the last time they ever made love, he wanted it to be the best time, too.

Alexia’s voice erupted over the intercom. “Sergeant Overton has ordered all hands to Biome 4.”

“No, no, no!” Emanuel cried as Sophie rolled off of him and pulled her shirt back on. He grabbed her hand and said, “I love you.”

Sophie hesitated. She had a responsibility to her team, but a few more seconds wasn’t going to matter. She leaned down and kissed him. “I love you too, Emanuel, and I will return to you.”

He smiled grimly, letting go of her hand. Deep down he wanted to believe her, but he was a scientist. Even with Sergeant Overton’s protection, he knew the chances of their return were limited.

“Well, you heard her. Are you going to see me off or what?”

He couldn’t help but smile. No matter what adversity she faced—no matter what the odds of success—she gave 100 percent. It was what made her a leader, and it was, he hoped, the one thing that would help her stay alive on her mission to Secundo Casu.

The blast doors hissed open. A wave of adrenaline emptied into Sophie’s system as the dark summer night stretched out before her. Wiped clean of clouds, the sky had become an endless blanket of sparkling stars. In a way, it reminded her of what she had seen in Colorado Springs that first, horrible night, with the countless orbs glowing throughout the city.

“Let’s move,” Overton’s voice said over the com.

Sophie took off in a sprint toward the outline of a single Humvee at the edge of the tarmac. She blinked and her night vision powered on, spreading its eerie green over her display. A few paces behind her, Overton struggled. The metal device clanged loudly on his armored back.

“This thing better fucking work. It weighs a ton,” he grunted.

“It is functioning at 100 percent,” Alexia’s voice said over the com.

They had inserted her fuel cell into a small interface at the bottom of the RVM and uploaded her consciousness so she could connect to the wireless links in their helmet. While she didn’t have access to her mainframe, she could still operate at almost full capacity. Sophie had to marvel at NTC’s ingenuity.

Overton halted when he got to the Humvee, scanning the tarmac for any heat signatures before opening the door. “Gimme a hand with this, Doc.”

Sophie unclipped the cords holding the second and more powerful RVM, and he heaved it onto the seat of the vehicle.

“I’m driving,” he said, jumping into the front seat.

Sophie took one last look at the blast doors and climbed into the Humvee. “Good-bye,” she said under her breath as Overton punched the gas.

Sophie stared out the window, her eyes fixed on a crater to the east. She could see the outlines of dozens of boats lying sideways in the dirt of what had been a lake bottom weeks before. The sight disappeared as the truck raced on, zipping between the empty vehicles lining I-25.

“Where are all the orbs?” Overton asked.

“I was just wondering the same thing. My guess is the Organics have already processed them.”

Sophie knew that the skin sacks of the deceased were probably littered across the highway, and was grateful she couldn’t see them through the darkness. In a way it was a relief, knowing the Organics had already moved on to a different location.

She turned back to the window and watched the dry landscape pass by. The temperature on her HUD read ninety degrees. It was unseasonably high, which could only mean one thing—the Organics were in fact draining the oceans at an alarming rate. There was no way to know how much longer the Earth had left. All she could do was move forward and try to survive.

A deafening boom echoed through the night. She froze, too petrified to look out the rear window, but the blue glow racing toward them was impossible to ignore.

Sure enough, the outline of a drone appeared behind them. In seconds it had reached the Humvee and slowed effortlessly to match the truck’s speed.

“I thought this fucking thing was supposed to keep them away!” Overton shouted.

Sophie clenched her pistol and sank in her seat, as if she could hide from the aliens by making herself smaller.

“Dr. Winston, check the machine!”

Alexia’s voice broke over the channel. “The RVM is operating at 100 percent efficiency. The Organics must be drawn to our movement. If we—”

Overton threw on the brakes before Alexia could finish her statement. The smell of burning rubber quickly filtered through their helmets.

“Quiet,” Sophie whispered, bringing a single finger to her helmet where her lips would be.

The drone hovered over the truck. The blue sides pulsated and rippled. Inside, a bright glow throbbed and the belly of the craft opened, spreading a radiant blue light over the truck.

Sophie cringed, holding her breath. It was scanning them. Days before, during their first ill-fated trip outside, the drone had used a beam to not only disable the electronics of the truck but to capture Saafi and Emanuel. This time was different; the drone kept scanning them, over and over again. It seemed almost confused.

Just when she thought she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, the light vanished and an explosion from the rear of the ship ripped through the night. Sophie gripped the outside of her helmet, her ears pounding with pain. She twisted just in time to watch the craft disappear over a ridgeline.

“Fuck, that was close. I thought we were toast! Guess that thing works after all,” Overton said with a nervous chuckle. His hands loosened their grip on the steering wheel, and he scanned the skyline several times before twisting the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he slowly pressed down on the gas.

“Fifteen minutes and we’ll be at the edge of I-25, where the Wastelands begin. The remains of Denver aren’t far after that,” he said. “Better check our nutrition before we get into the dead zone.”

Sophie unfastened her helmet. She grabbed a water bottle from her duffel bag and forced down several gulps. Feeling around in the bag, she retrieved two energy bars and tore them open. She chewed and listened to the reassuring groan of the diesel engine, and started to relax.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the seat. An image of Jamie and Owen sitting next to Holly at the mess hall table crept into her thoughts. If the children could survive the Organics without weapons, food, or a super-magnet, then surely she stood a chance.

Crumpling the wrapper into a ball, she threw it back into the bag and looked at the RVM one more time. The hunk of metal glistened in the dim light. It was hard to imagine that the box not only housed the smartest artificial intelligence on the planet, but also harnessed an electromagnetic wave that could confuse alien invaders. Science never ceased to amaze her; even when all seemed lost, it had a way of giving her hope.

The silhouette of Denver’s destroyed skyline appeared in the distance, the once great skyscrapers nothing more than artifacts from a dead civilization, like the Great Wall of China or the pyramids in Egypt.

Sophie thought of the young pilot who had flown her to the Biosphere just weeks before. He had mentioned his girlfriend’s family was from Denver. She hoped he had somehow managed to escape from the Organics, but she didn’t really believe it. With a lurch, Sophie realized that she’d never bothered to learn the pilot’s name.

She pushed the concern from her mind, squeezing her eyebrows together and blinking. The optics built into her display enhanced, allowing her to scan the interstate for any signs of life. Deep down she knew there wouldn’t be any. The city had been evacuated years before, when the edge of the CME had torched the city and turned it into a radioactive nightlight.

The emptiness was eerie, but oddly soothing at the same time. Strategically, the location worked out in their favor. Without human life to prey upon, the Organics would have no reason to be anywhere near the city. And with the surface water already gone, Sophie figured they wouldn’t run into any further resistance until they got to the White Sands Missile Range.

Ruined buildings and the abandoned cars of people who had tried to escape the doomed city filled her display. The scene reminded her of an old post-apocalyptic movie poster she’d had hanging in her college dorm room—a scene she never thought she’d see with her own eyes.

In the distance the triangular rooftops of the airport emerged. There were only a few of the pyramids left fully intact, but as they approached it was clear the architects had designed the roof to look like the Rocky Mountains.

Overton slowed the vehicle and maneuvered around the dozens of metal hangars lining the tarmac. “How are we going to find the entrance to this underground bunker?”

“I’m trying to remember what my contact at NTC told me, but it’s . . . hazy.”

Overton eased the vehicle to a stop and tilted his head so he could look directly at her. “You’re fucking telling me you don’t have the slightest idea where we’re going? You think you coulda mentioned this, I dunno, before we left the Biosphere?”

“You’re starting to sound like Timothy. Don’t worry; it’ll come back to me. Just drive,” she said.

She watched row after row of hangars pass as they continued down the tarmac at a crawl. All she could recall was the NTC staffer telling her the main entrance to the bunker was under a hangar. Unfortunately, there were a lot of them to choose from.

Look for the wings.

The staffer’s words popped into her mind. “Look for the old air force symbol,” she told Overton. “The one from before the government gave control of its air defenses to NTC.”

“Okay . . .” Overton punched the gas and watched the metal buildings zip by. He knew the hangar would not be with the civilian buildings. The military always kept its facilities separate. He turned the steering wheel hard to the right and raced down the tarmac toward a pair of buildings in the distance.

“Where are you going? You’re heading away from the airport!”

They raced past a bullet-riddled white sign with the faded image of wings etched into the middle. She watched the sign disappear in the side mirror. “How did you know?”

“Because I’m a soldier, and I know how other soldiers think,” he said with a grin.

The doors to the first hangar were cracked open, revealing the guts of a facility that had been used to house weapons at some point. Overton recognized the outlines of a forklift and several other pieces of machinery used to cart large missiles before they were loaded onto aircraft. He dipped the barrel of his rifle into the warehouse before slipping through the opening. Ancient crates and metal boxes littered the dusty concrete floor. Several dents from the colossal dust storms peppered the walls of the hangar.

This was not the type of place he imagined the military would have housed an underground bunker, but then again, the frail walls could have been built to deceive anyone looking for such a facility.

He finished his recon and marched back to the truck, tapping Sophie on the shoulder and jerking his head toward the hangar. She nodded and followed him. The doors to the second hangar were sealed shut, and the handle to a side entrance was locked. He cursed under his breath and threw the strap of his rifle around his back. Taking one knee, he removed his combat knife and unscrewed the bottom of the handle. Inside were several lock-picking tools. His squad had teased him on more than one occasion for carrying them, but this wasn’t the first time they had come in handy.

With a click, the door unlocked. He swung it open cautiously, crouch-walking behind the safety of the thick metal. Inside were more crates and boxes. The hull of a rusted tractor sat in the corner of the room, half-draped in a tarp. At first glance there was no evidence of an entrance to the bunker. Frustrated, he broke radio silence. “Advance.”

Sophie emerged with her pistol drawn. Her helmet darted back and forth as she scanned the room.

“I don’t see shit to indicate a bunker,” he whispered.

“Alexia, are you able to scan the facility?” Sophie asked.

“Already completed, Dr. Winston. Check the east corner of the room. A preliminary scan indicates there is something covering the entrance.”

“Would have been nice to know before I stuck my neck in here,” Overton growled.

Sophie smiled and patted Overton on his armored shoulder. She paced toward the tractor, and with his help they pushed it forward. Underneath was a circular door.

He could hardly believe it. Without hesitation, he squatted and wiped off the surface, revealing the etched letters NSA.

“National Security Agency,” he said, shaking his head.

“It was basically the intelligence branch of NTC before it became, well, NTC,” Sophie said, joining him on the floor.

“Go back to the truck and get the device. I’ll try to get this thing open,” he said, gripping the handle and heaving with his back. He pulled harder and felt the cut on his shoulder tighten.

“Fuck. On second thought, help me with this first,” he said. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

They twisted the circular handle, and the ancient door clicked open, revealing a thin sliver of red light.

“I’ll be damned,” he said, peeking into the tunnel. “The lights are still on after all these years.”

Sophie shrugged. “You need to start listening to me more often.”

“I will take that under consideration, Dr. Winston. In the meantime, how about you retrieve the RVM?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a salute that was only half ironic.

She jogged back to the truck, satisfied with their find. They were one step closer to their objective—one step closer to seeing if Dr. Hoffman had indeed wanted them to proceed to the ship.

The glow of the stars filled her display as she slipped back outside, but another glow also illuminated the night. Her heart stopped. A hundred yards away were a dozen Spiders surrounding the Humvee. Their heads tilted simultaneously and a hundred eyes studied her.

“Spiders!” she screamed into her com, backing straight into the metal wall. Fumbling for her pistol, she tripped and fell onto the concrete. The pistol went flying and landed several feet away.

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

The Spiders skittered across the concrete tarmac. She hesitated, calculating the odds of reaching the pistol before they reached her, and then scrambled back into the hangar on all fours. She slammed the door shut and locked it.

Overton darted over to her and leveled his rifle at the wall. A claw punched through the metal like a knife cutting a piece of bread. Dozens more followed, tearing foot-long gaps in the door.

“We have to get to the train! This isn’t going to hold them for long,” Overton shouted.

Sophie tried to follow behind him, watching in horror as the Spiders tore through the wall. “But we need the RVM. We need Alexia.”

He grunted, firing off a volley of plasma rounds through one of the openings. A shriek followed as the rounds tore into one of the Spider’s shields.

Overton looked down at the single electromagnetic concussion grenade he had taken from Bouma. He didn’t want to use it yet, not this early in the mission, but he didn’t have a choice. If he waited, they might be dead before he had another opportunity.

“Get to the train. I’ll get the device,” he yelled, firing off another dozen rounds.

Sophie hesitated.

“I said go!”

She nodded and disappeared into the glow of red light spilling out of the tunnel’s entrance. Overton watched her go and then returned his attention to the wall. The scraping sound of the claws echoed in his helmet. The noise prompted a steady flow of adrenaline to pump into his veins. It was all he needed for his training to kick back in.

Without further thought, he unclipped the grenade, removed the pin, and dropped it through one of the openings in the metal. It dropped with a hollow click and rolled a few feet before detonating. He shut off his HUD with a blink and closed his eyes to prepare for the blast. The pulse wave ripped across the tarmac, penetrating the creature’s defenses. Through the opening, Overton watched the blue glow of their shields pulsate and fail.

One swift kick from his boot sent the door flying off its hinges. It slid across the tarmac, knocking three of the Spiders down. He pulled his .45 from his holster and smiled.

“Time to die, you little bastards!”

He strode out of the hangar with his pistol in one hand and his rifle in the other. The first shots sent two of the Spiders spinning into the night. Another three advanced, and Overton squeezed the triggers again. Two heads and a torso exploded, showering him in blue goo.

High-pitched screams ripped through the night, but he pushed forward unfazed. He fired his rifle at another two monsters still circling the Humvee and turned to finish off three more advancing toward him.

The click of a dry magazine sounded, somehow louder to Overton’s ears than the horrifying screams. He tossed the rifle aside and took one knee, aiming the pistol at the remaining two Spiders. Instead of advancing, they circled him, their claws scraping the ground.

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

He closed an eye and aimed, but resisted the urge. Why weren’t they attacking? Was there something they knew that he didn’t? Something he couldn’t see? It was almost like the fuckers were taunting him.

“Fuck it,” he said and squeezed the trigger. The two bullets whizzed out of the chamber, down the barrel, and into the heads of both Spiders.

Pop.

They exploded like water balloons, their blue blood fountaining into the air. Overton surveyed the gruesome scene. Several of the creatures’ limbs twitched on the ground, their claws still scraping the ground harmlessly.

Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Scrape.

He fired off the remaining rounds in his pistol just to silence them, then glanced over his shoulder at the hangar to gauge the distance he’d have to haul the damned RVM. The spiked, humanoid head of a Sentinel stared back at him, its reptilian eyes blinking rapidly.

“You have to be shitting me!”

He scrambled to reload his weapon as the monster slithered forward with its massive tail dragging across the concrete. The thing grabbed him before he had time to retrieve a single bullet. It wrapped one arm around Overton and heaved him into the air, bringing him within inches of its face.

“You are one ugly bastard,” he muttered, preparing for the same fate as Finley. He refused to close his eyes. Instead he squinted, studying the alien.

It looked back at him quizzically, tilting its head to one side like it was trying to comprehend something beyond its intelligence. Overton was reminded of a dog he’d had when he was a kid.

That’s when it hit him. The Spiders, the Worms, and the Sentinels—they weren’t intelligent creatures. There was no way these things had traveled trillions of miles to pillage Earth of its natural resources.

Luke had been right. These creatures were nothing more than foot soldiers in an army controlled by a life-form he hadn’t yet met. Overton let out a muffled laugh; he was about to be liquefied by the alien equivalent of a Rottweiler. He faced his fate like a Marine—with his eyes open.

Crack, crack.

The creature’s head exploded into pieces, speckling his visor with chunks of blue skin and meat. Overton’s mind hardly had time to register the sound of gunfire. He hit the ground with a thud, still wrapped in the creature’s limp arm.

Crawling out from under the heavy limb, he pulled himself up and wiped the goo off his visor. Standing twenty feet away was Sophie, still gripping the pulse pistol tightly in her shaking hands. Overton considered yelling at her for taking the risky shot, but changed his mind. The doc didn’t have much sense when it came to keeping her ass safe, but she had moxie. Instead he scanned the area for more contacts. His HUD revealed no heat signatures.

He hunched over to pick up his rifle and strolled over to her at a leisurely pace. “Guess the device doesn’t work after all,” he said.

“Not necessarily. They didn’t attack until they saw us. I believe they also pick up on movement. When you stopped the Humvee, the drone disappeared. The device appears to distract and confuse them, but it only works if we aren’t moving,” she said, her hands shaking. “You know, I did just save your life. Some sort of thank-you wouldn’t be out of order.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he said sincerely, placing his hand over hers and slowly forcing her to lower the pistol.

“N-no problem,” she stuttered.

“Where did you learn to shoot?” he asked.

“My dad taught me when I was a kid,” she said. “He, uh, liked to take me to the . . . gun range.”

Overton ignored the obvious lie. “I thought I ordered you into the tunnel.”

“You did, but when I got there I realized I’d lost my gun. There was no way in hell I was going down there without a weapon.”

Overton cracked a grin and chuckled. “You continue to impress me, Doc.”

“Call me Sophie.”

With a nod Overton said, “All right, Sophie. Now let’s get the RVM and Alexia. We have a train to catch.”

CHAPTER 27

JAMIE stood on the metal bench next to Holly, attempting to braid the psychologist’s blond hair. “Why did the monsters come?” Jamie asked, so softly that Holly almost didn’t hear her.

Owen, leaning against Holly’s side, answered, “My dad said that there’s no such thing as monsters.”

“Your dad was right, Owen. There is no such thing as monsters. The things outside are just animals, but from another planet.”

“Animals? Like cows?” Jamie asked, her eyes wide and full of curiosity.

“Sort of like cows,” Holly agreed.

“Cows that want to eat us?” Owen said.

Holly bit her lip and scooted forward, searching for some way to salvage the explanation. “Well, we eat cows, and cows eat grass . . .”

“I’m hungry,” Jamie said abruptly, changing the subject as only a child could. She jumped off the metal bench and clutched her stomach.

“What would you like to eat?” Holly asked.

“Ice cream,” Owen said.

“And cookies!” Jamie added.

Holly laughed. “Let’s see what we have in the kitchen, shall we?”

Both children hurried through the mess hall toward the kitchen. Jamie hummed a song along the way, and Owen dragged his filthy blanket on the floor. Holly marveled at their resilience. Just days ago they had both lost their whole worlds. Yet after hours of counseling, it turned out all Holly had to do was mention the word “cookie” to get them to smile.

Pots and pans clattered as Timothy poked through the cabinets in the kitchen. Holly paused to study him. His behavior was becoming increasingly erratic. It was really too bad she couldn’t simply give him a cookie to calm him down, too, but she could always slip a Xanax in his water. It was a compelling thought.

“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

Holly smiled, seeing Bouma standing in the shadows of the hallway leading to the personnel quarters. In the dim light he looked stoic, almost like a statue. With his chiseled jawline and short, cropped hair he was the stereotypical Marine, and in a way, kind of good-looking. Besides, it wasn’t like there was a huge male population left.

The thought was selfish. She had two children to look after. And one adult who acted like a child. She watched Jamie and Owen tear into a freeze-dried packet while Timothy glared at both of them.

“How are you doing, Holly?” Bouma said. He moved closer to her, his eyes darting back and forth from her to Timothy. He had been watching the man closely, concerned that he would try something stupid with Overton and Sophie gone.

“Good.”

“Okay, good,” the Marine said awkwardly. He’d never been great with women, but he knew the short answer meant she didn’t want to talk. Turning to leave he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” Holly said.

Bouma held his breath and spun to face her.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you, just as much as I am for my original team,” she said.

“When do the kids go to bed?”

“I’ll put them down after dinner tonight.”

“Meet me in Biome 1?”

Holly smiled. A walk through the gardens sounded exactly like what she needed.

“It’s a date,” she said. She stiffened, realizing that he might take her at her word. “I mean, um, I’ll be there.”

Bouma smiled, trying to hide his crooked teeth. “See you then.”

The blank white walls of the medical ward kept Emanuel at ease, but they also made him drowsy. Sleep had become elusive ever since Sophie had left. He had kept himself occupied by turning a section of the medical ward into a laboratory, where he had begun dissecting the remains of one of the Spiders. He’d performed countless necropsies on animals in his career, but this was by far the most intriguing, and also the most risky. Who knew what unfamiliar contagions or viruses the aliens were carrying? Alexia had left a subset of her personality with the biosphere to monitor its conditions, and Emanuel had put her on standby to run constant scans for potentially harmful foreign substances before he was exposed.

Emanuel finished suiting up by covering the last of his bare skin with a pair of plastic gloves. The Biosphere had not come equipped with hazmat suits, so he had improvised and used one of the NTC suits he’d found in the decontamination chamber. Hopefully that would be enough.

He peeled back a layer of the Spider’s translucent skin with a scalpel, clamping it open. Then, with an artist’s precision, he used a laser to cut a tiny slit in one of the blue veins running the length of the creature’s dismembered torso.

Unfortunately, the rounds from the pulse rifles had made his work very difficult. The Organics’ defenses were clearly advanced, with their shields and supersonic shrieks, but without these weapons they were surprisingly fragile. Like jellyfish washed up on the beach, their skin and insides just seemed to melt away.

The specimen in front of him was the most intact he had been able to find. With half a head, a full torso, and two of six legs remaining, it was plenty for him to work with.

As he took a sample of the fluid from the vein, one of the creature’s eyeballs popped out of its socket and rolled across the table.

Emanuel couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath; there was something almost slapstick about the moment. The sight of gore had never bothered him. And even if it had, he wouldn’t let it stop him from performing the necropsy. After all, it wasn’t every day a brand-new alien species showed up.

It was delicate work, yielding more questions than answers. For example: How did the Spiders’ defenses work? He saw no indication of an energy source, nor any technology that would create their shields. In fact, he didn’t see a single hint of advanced biological functions, which meant they were more than likely just the grunts, conscripted to collect water and resources for their more intelligent commanders.

The thought made him nervous. He had only begun to scratch the surface of the aliens’ chemistry and composition. Their fragile bodies weren’t what scared him, though—it was the fact that he still wasn’t sure who or what was giving them orders. Without specimens of the Sentinels or the worm-like creatures that Overton had described, Emanuel had no way to determine which, if any, was the dominant life-form. It was more likely that they hadn’t even seen the superior Organics yet.

And why would they have? If these aliens had the ability to travel across the vast distances of space, why would they risk harm by showing themselves?

Emanuel suddenly felt weary. Humans were never much of a threat to the Organics in the first place. If anything, humans had been a threat to themselves. After all, that’s why he was standing in a biosphere designed to help mankind venture into space, the last place they hadn’t destroyed.

He peeled back another layer of veins and pushed the questions from his mind. Focusing on his work was the only thing that calmed him. It was also the only thing that helped prevent his thoughts from turning to Sophie. He fumbled with the scalpel and tore several of the veins open. Blood splattered onto his faceplate.

“Shit,” he said under his breath. “Alexia, are you seeing anything worrying?”

“Dr. Rodriguez, my scans aren’t picking up anything that registers in my database as toxic. However, there are several elements that are unidentified, and therefore I can’t advise on their effect on human biology.”

Emanuel watched the blue liquid trickle down the glass protecting his face. He could no longer feel his heart beating, or the air coming through his nostrils. The sight of the alien blood so close had paralyzed him with fear. “Dr. Rodriguez, is something wrong?” Alexia said.

He shook his head. “Well, I think it just sank in that I’m dissecting an alien life-form, but I’m fine.”

Alexia did not respond, and Emanuel wiped the mess off his face guard. Then he snapped his gloves tightly around his wrists. He compartmentalized the fear by reassuring himself that his work was extremely important to the future of the human race.

He retrieved a vial of the Spider’s blood and used a pipette to transfer a sample under the electron microscope. He magnified down to a single cell, moving from one cell to the next.

Hours of studying the sample resulted in little new information. He already knew the blood contained mostly water, but it was the other elements that interested him.

Resisting the urge to remove his glasses and rub his tired eyes, he instead sent the data to Alexia. “Let me know if you see anything I’m missing here,” he said, stretching his back and letting out a groan.

Before he had a chance to straighten his spine, Alexia emerged on the console next to him. His sight was hazy from staring into the microscope for so long, but he could have sworn he saw excitement on her face.

“Dr. Rodriguez. This sample of Organic blood does contain approximately 80.43 percent H_2O. However, the other 19.57 percent consists of a substance very similar to plasma. I’m still breaking the data down, but it appears the blood has an electronic component, which likely has something to do with their defenses.”

Emanuel smiled. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but he was really starting to enjoy having Alexia around.

He moved to another station and flicked the display of the monitor. “Fascinating. Electrovalent blood,” he mumbled, scanning the data again to make sure he was reading it correctly. It was shocking, but at the same time it made sense. The shields were likely powered by the creatures’ blood. When they were feeding, their systems must shut down, and in turn lower their defenses.

The revelation made his heart beat rapidly in his chest. If his theory was correct, then he had just found the Organics’ biggest weakness.

A strange, metallic rustling sound rang out in the ventilation above. The noise startled him, and he quickly forgot about the implications of his findings. He froze, listening intently.

Silence.

Emanuel was just about to shrug off the noise and return to his work when he heard the rustling again. It was growing more pronounced, as if something was moving through the ductwork.

He grabbed the scalpel and edged toward the door. Just before he reached the sliding glass panel, he recognized the sound.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Timothy forced an ice pack against his jaw. His face throbbed. The painkillers had worn off. A broken jaw wasn’t something that just healed overnight, even with the incredible advances in modern medicine. It would take another week before the bones would be completely repaired and the pain subsided.

A crack in his coffee cup reminded him of the scar on Overton’s face. The bastard had given him a scar, too. He grimaced and probed the tender spot where the Marine’s fist had made contact. The scar was only an inch long, but it would be a constant reminder of his hatred for the macho Marine.

Timothy had hated men like Overton his entire life. They had bullied him as a child, and bullied him as an adult. But he would have his revenge somehow, presuming the man made it back to the Biosphere alive.

He pushed the anger aside and swiped one of the monitors with his index finger. Several images of the Organics appeared, screenshots captured by the security cameras before the power was cut. Timothy grabbed the mug and took a sip of cold water, savoring it as it ran down his throat. There was a time when he’d have preferred some radioactive-colored, over-caffeinated soda. It was hard to imagine that something as simple as water would be a luxury—something they would have to ration.

The world had changed dramatically. Things he had once taken for granted had become extinct overnight. No more fast food. No more sci-fi movies on TV. No more internet porn. Timothy wasn’t sure he wanted to keep going in a world like that. There was no way to determine how much was left outside, or if there were any survivors who could get the grids running again.

The world was no longer the safe and convenient place he had grown to know and love. He would never be able to FaceTime with his friends on his fancy Apple sunglasses or blog his research to thousands of followers. He realized with a sickening lurch that his entire online gaming guild was probably dead. They wouldn’t be fighting dragons together anymore. No, this time the monsters were real, and it looked like they were headed for a total wipe. Game over.

Timothy took another sip of water and focused on the images of the Spiders crawling across the screen. The first picture showed a dozen of the creatures entering the facility. The next showed the same group climbing into an air duct in the briefing room outside the Biosphere. It was when they got inside the facility that things got interesting.

Ten of the Spiders dropped into Biome 4, where they branched off into two groups. The remaining two Spiders never reappeared after entering the ducts from the briefing room.

He scanned the images again, thumbing to the last picture taken before the power had gone out. The other two creatures were definitely absent.

Switching to video feed, he watched the scenes again, tracking the Spiders from the tunnel all the way to Biome 4, where they split up and disappeared. It was like the Spiders had simply vanished.

His stomach growled, reminding him it was time for his lunch ration. He stood, stumbling slightly as blood rushed to his head. It was his first day walking without any sort of assistance, and he was still getting used to it. Fumbling with his chair, he pushed it aside and slipped through the automatic door into the dimly lit hallway.

Somewhere behind him, a faint, metallic scratch tickled the very edge of his hearing. He halted, straining his ears to make out the noise, but it disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. With a shrug he continued down the passage to the mess hall. He could see Holly and the children were already there, no doubt scarfing down the last of the mac and cheese.

Another growl from his stomach urged him forward. He stopped in the entryway to the cafeteria to catch his breath. Holly looked up from her tray. She had a strange expression on her face. Jamie looked up next. Her mouth opened and unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.

Timothy froze. They weren’t looking at him; they were looking behind him.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

“Oh God.” He turned his head to see the two missing Spiders from the video feed. One of the creatures hung from the ceiling, where a loose panel dangled freely. The other continued to slide across the concrete floor, its claws scratching. Its compound eyes scanned them, and Timothy had the horrible feeling that it was deciding which of them to eat first.

He took a step back—a mistake, it turned out. The Spider seemed to finalize its analysis, and Timothy was clearly on the menu.

He closed his eyes and waited for the Spider to tear into him. But his right eye wouldn’t stay shut. The nervous twitch had returned, just in time for him to watch the claws descend.

The tunnel was dim, illuminated only by a few emergency lights. One flickered intermittently, reminding Overton of the red lights from the railway crossing in his hometown. Like a subliminal warning, the light blinked on and off, on and off. It shed an eerie glow over an idle escalator at the end of the passage. It was as if they were being warned to stay out of the tunnel.

Overton ignored the superstitious thought and secured the RVM on his back before leaping over the security lever at the top of the escalator. He began the descent into the darkness, blinking to enhance his night vision.

The green glow of the goggles’ night vision bled across his HUD, revealing zero contacts. All he could see was the vague outline of a metal gate at the bottom of the stairs.

Footsteps sounded behind him as he made his way down the metal teeth of the escalator. He didn’t risk turning to check on Sophie, for fear of tripping and falling.

A few moments later he reached the bottom of the escalator. With a simple push, the entry door creaked halfway open. He frowned at the sound echoing off the tunnel walls.

The noise was loud enough that any living thing within close proximity would hear them coming. Several strained heartbeats later, the noise vanished, and he slipped through the gateway. The main corridor was similar to the one that led to the Biosphere facility. It had been drilled with a “mole,” or tunnel-boring machine. Only a TBM left behind such smooth walls.

Overton checked the tunnel. His HUD again blinked clear of heat signatures.

“It’s clear,” he said. A moment later, Sophie caught up with him.

With a nod she paced down the passage, shoulder to shoulder with Overton. At some point she’d grown rather fond of the brusque Marine. Without realizing when it had happened, they had become a team.

The image of an idle train filled their displays as they rounded the corner. It rested on the tracks like a sleeping beast. Overton stared at the relic from the past; it had been years since he had ridden on a train. A pair of red emergency lights glowed above the front car door, illuminating the symbol of the NSA. Overton approached the train, jamming his combat knife between the car doors.

“Help me,” he said. Working together, they pried the door open and slipped inside the empty train. It was littered with debris—rusted metal fuel barrels, a pair of rubber tires stacked neatly on top of one another, and a plastic container filled with tools.

“Looks like someone’s used this train since it was decommissioned,” Overton said.

Sophie shrugged, making her way past the barrels and into the conductor’s car. She guessed several airport employees who knew about the facility would have brought their families to the tunnel during the solar storms. She’d harbored a faint hope that they might have done so again, but she saw no sign of recent habitation. She checked her HUD for a radiation reading. It was fairly high—high enough to keep survivors out of the tunnel. There was little chance of running into any humans.

Overton pushed his way into the tiny car and peered over Sophie’s shoulder, studying the gears. “Well, do you know how to run this thing?”

Sophie pushed a red button on the middle of the console, and a row of lights flickered on. He patted her on the back and slipped back into the second car, taking a seat on one of the dusty benches. His stomach was growling and his throat was parched. It had been several hours since he’d had any nutrition, and a couple seconds without his helmet wasn’t going to kill him.

“Hold on to your seat, Sergeant. If I’m correct, this train can reach a maximum of three hundred miles per hour. That should put us at White Sands in a little over two hours.”

Overton took several gulps from his canteen, letting the warm water glide down his throat. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said, and tore open an energy bar.

The floor of the train groaned and creaked as the electric engine flared to life. He slipped his helmet back on and closed his eyes, chewing the last bit of chocolate before resting his helmeted head on the glass window. By the time the train had reached full speed, he was asleep.

The creature’s mandibles split and its head darted forward, straining the Spider’s thin neck as it lunged for Timothy. Oddly, in that moment of terror and confusion, he fixated on the waft of breath coming from the thing’s gaping mouth. It was odorless.

Ever since he was a child, he had imagined what monsters would be like. He thought they would have the most disgusting, raunchiest breath possible, the scent of death and decay rolling off their tongues. It was a prerequisite for dungeon-dwelling beasts.

In the moment before his death, he realized this was no make-believe monster. It was a real, honest-to-God alien life-form, so different from anything his youthful brain had ever created. He didn’t have time to comprehend what that meant, if anything.

There wasn’t much pain, just a short, hot explosion behind his eyes as the creature sank its sharp teeth into his head. Timothy’s legs folded beneath his limp body. The other Organic rushed up behind its friend and lunged with several of its claws, raising the man’s corpse into the air. They began spinning him into a blue web.

By the time Bouma and Emanuel arrived, Timothy was already covered in the glowing substance. Bouma sprinted down the passageway with his pulse rifle clanging against the shoulder of his armor.

He halted several yards away, skidding to a dead stop as his mind grasped the gravity of the situation. A slew of eyeballs stared back at him. The Spiders both tilted their heads and let out high pitched shrieks.

“Run! Take the kids and hide!” Bouma managed to scream over the intermittent screeching of the monsters.

He resisted the urge to check whether Emanuel, Holly, and the children were following his orders. Instead, he did what he was trained to do: neutralize the threat.

With one swift motion, he raised the barrel of his rifle, steadied his breathing the best he could, and squeezed down on the trigger. He knew he had little chance of lowering their shields without an electromagnetic concussion grenade, but he had no choice.

To his surprise, the rounds tore into the creatures’ flesh, sending limbs and grotesque eyeballs in all directions. The exploding bodies splattered the walls with glowing blue blood, like a drunken artist spray-painting with glitter.

Bouma emptied the magazine into the Spiders. He wanted to be sure—he had to be sure they were dead. After studying the mess from a distance, he finally stepped toward the scene. Slowly, he lowered his rifle and removed the empty clip, grabbing another one from his belt and jamming it into the weapon. Trying to still his labored breath, he took one knee.

He pulled out his tablet from a pouch on his back and accessed the defense system to check the records. He studied the lines of code running across the display. Something was amiss. The sensors had picked up the Organics, but only when they had entered the hallway minutes earlier. For some reason the defense mechanism had never kicked in to warn the team of their presence. Which meant it was possible there were still more of them lurking in the ceiling.

Bouma made the mistake of studying the gore. His stomach lurched. Protruding out of the mixture of human and Organic blood was Timothy’s face, his features warped at a terrifying angle. He forced himself to look away. There was nothing he could do for the man now.

He shouldered his rifle and retreated into the mess hall. His first objective was to secure the civilians. The next objective terrified him. After ensuring their safety, he was going to have to crawl through the ducts to root out any remaining creatures.

The image of Finley’s and Saafi’s burning remains flickered in his mind. He tried to blink it away, but it was replaced with the faces of comrades from his old squad, and finally the sweet face of his baby nephew.

He pulled back the lever on his pulse rifle barrel. A loud, metallic click rang out as the first round entered the chamber. If there were any of the aliens left, he was going to find them. And he was going to kill every last one of them.

CHAPTER 28

THE ancient train groaned and creaked, slowing to a stop. Sophie nudged Overton’s leg. “We’re here.”

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Throwing his rifle strap over his shoulder, he grabbed one of the hand railings and hoisted himself up. Stars raced across his eyes, and he was forced to sit back down. The poor sleep, lack of food, and the loss of his squad had finally caught up to him.

“Shit,” he said, smacking his helmet with his armored hand.

“You all right?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah, perfect. I just have a headache.”

Sophie examined the vestibule of the train station through the grimy windows. The lobby was nothing like the bunker they had entered at the airport. Her night vision revealed the obscure outlines of concrete chunks littered across the ground. The wall had been scored with deep gouges. A sign hung loosely off one of the destroyed pillars. It was speckled with holes, making it difficult to read. After a moment, she made out the sweetest words she’d ever seen: Welcome to White Sands Missile Range.

“What happened here?” Sophie said, hunching over so she could get a better view of the lobby.

Overton gave his helmet one more smack and strolled over to the glass. He blinked a few times to enhance the optics and focused on the outline of several humps in the corner of the vestibule.

“Those look like bodies,” he said.

A short burst of static broke over the com as Sophie exhaled. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I’m going to check it out. Wait here.”

Overton slipped through the automatic door and stepped out onto the concrete platform. Bringing the scope to his visor, he surveyed the scene, allowing the crosshairs to pop up on his HUD. He crept toward the figures, stepping over the chunks of concrete.

He checked the two corridors for contacts before entering the main lobby. They were empty—nothing but heaps of trash and broken glass. More relics of the past. The vestibule, on the other hand, was filled with signs of recent occupation—and of death. Bodies lay scattered throughout the room. Everywhere his eyes fell, the outlines of armored corpses filled his display. But there was something odd about them—something wasn’t right.

Overton crouched to get a better look. What he saw made him fumble and nearly drop his rifle. The lumps weren’t corpses. They were the black matte armor suits NTC soldiers wore in the Wastelands. The same suit he had on now.

The suits were empty. Where were the bodies?

It was clear there had been a battle. The dark craters from plasma rounds and chunks of broken concrete indicated as much. He scanned the room again, this time not for humans but for Organics.

There was no sign of them. No gooey blood, no dismembered limbs. Nothing.

This was no battle—this was a massacre.

He grabbed one of the soldier’s fallen rifles and stood. “Sophie, get up here.”

Footsteps rang out behind him immediately, followed by a burst of static over the com and then Sophie’s calm voice.

“Where are the bodies?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering.” Overton paused, scanning the room one more time. His instincts reasserted themselves and he began to move cautiously forward, motioning Sophie toward the edge of the stairs leading into the facility.

“Alexia, you still alive in there?” Overton asked.

“Yes, Sergeant. I’m still 90 percent functional.”

“Good. I’m going to need you to upload the facility’s blueprint to our HUDs.”

“One moment, sir.”

Seconds later a rectangular box popped up in the corner of their displays, followed by two tiny red dots representing their location.

“Where’s Secundo Casu?” Sophie asked.

“I am sorry, Dr. Winston, but unfortunately the blueprints to which I have access are outdated. White Sands is the largest decommissioned military installation in the United States, and—”

“Cut to the chase, Alexia,” Overton growled. “If you had to take a guess, where do you think NTC would have housed our Noah’s Ark?”

Another red dot appeared on their HUDs. Underneath it was a single number representing the distance to the potential location.

“That’s five miles away from here, Sophie!”

“What? You expected the bus to take you right to the front door? This isn’t elementary school, this is the big leagues now,” Sophie chuckled.

“That’s cute, really it is, but look around. The Organics beat us here! NTC beat us here! And that means Secundo Casu could be fucked!”

“We need to take a step back and focus on what we know. One, the RVM will protect us as long as the Organics don’t see us moving. Two, we have already made it over seven hundred miles. The hard part is over.”

Overton tossed Sophie one of the pulse rifles he had picked up. “Take this; you’re going to need it.”

She caught it gracefully and threw the strap around her back. With one more glance at the empty armor, she began the ascent up the staircase.

The connecting floor was pitch black. There were no red emergency lights here, just the darkness. The green glow of her night vision was beginning to make her dizzy. And with nothing to look at besides a jungle of wire and piping along the walls and ceiling, she was beginning to feel claustrophobic, too.

Sophie halted to take a deep breath. She was fatigued, hungry, and most of all, thirsty. It was possible her mind was beginning to play tricks on her.

“I’m taking five,” she said in a hushed voice.

Overton nodded and turned on his head lamps before unclipping his helmet. A pair of double lights illuminated the tunnel. He set the helmet down and reached for the small pack on his back to retrieve one of his canteens and an energy bar. It only took a minute for him to devour the chocolate and polish off half of the water.

“You better conserve that. We need to save some for the return trip,” Sophie said, chewing her way through a piece of beef jerky.

He scowled in the darkness. His face was hardly recognizable in the faint light, but Sophie caught the look. She held her tongue and decided to ignore her own advice. She finished off the jerky, washing it down with a few long gulps of the precious liquid.

Overton took out his tablet and studied the blueprint. “All right, looks like we’re somewhere under the spaceport,” he said, pointing to a horizontal line on the display. “Alexia puts the shuttle’s possible location here. Which means we’re going to have to go above ground to get to the hangar.”

He looked at the mission clock on his HUD.

12:45 p.m.

“We could wait until it gets dark, but I’m not sure it’ll make much difference.”

Sophie shook her head. “Not a chance I’m staying down here for that long.”

Overton grabbed his helmet and hoisted himself off the ground by grabbing onto a pipe, nearly ripping it free from the wall. “Roger that. Let’s keep moving.”

They picked up their rifles and continued into the darkness, pushing along the winding tunnels, up stairways, and through countless corridors. Several signs hung from the walls. They were rusted beyond recognition by the steady drip from the leaky pipes lining the ceiling.

Sophie finally knew what it was like to be one of the mice she had seen used in countless experiments. Navigating the tunnels was like being stuck in a maze—no, a rat trap. Even with the veteran recon Marine and the world’s smartest computer as her guides, she was starting to feel lost.

As they rounded a corner, she saw the passage opened up into another vestibule. Her trot turned into a steady jog, and soon she was leading Overton up the stairs into a massive room.

This was different from the vestibule they had entered right off the train. It was larger, with a curved dome, much like Biome 1. The walls were all concrete, with painted arrows pointing at different passages. With the night vision, she couldn’t make out the different colors, but she could read them.

HOLLOMAN AIR FORCE BASE 21 MILES

WHITE SANDS TEST FACILITY 14 MILES

SPACEPORT 2¼ MILES

WHITE SANDS POST HEADQUARTERS 13 MILES

“Like Alexia said, this was the biggest military installation in the United States at one time,” Sophie said, preempting any snide comments from Overton regarding the distances.

“We’re halfway there. Let’s keep moving.”

They hurried into the tunnel labeled “Spaceport.” It was much wider—about three times the diameter of the others, large enough for a vehicle to travel in.

“This tunnel should open up into one last vestibule that leads to the surface,” Alexia said in their earpieces.

“And you really think Secundo Casu is going to be waiting for us?” Overton asked.

Silence washed over the com. Sophie had stopped several paces ahead, her figure frozen in the darkness like a statue.

“What is it, Sophie?” Overton continued.

“I think I hear something . . .”

Overton halted and strained his ears. Nothing but the sporadic burst of static over the com filled his helmet.

“I don’t—”

A faint metallic sound broke through the silence before he could finish his sentence. He swung his rifle off his back and shouldered it, peering down the tunnel with the scope. The crosshairs on his HUD glowed red as the wireless link synched the weapon with his helmet. He scanned the darkness for signatures but saw nothing.

For several minutes they waited, until the metallic scraping finally faded away.

“It could have been anything,” Overton said, but he knew it was a lie. He was all too familiar with the sound the Spiders made as they moved on their knife-like claws. However, they seemed to be gone for now. There wasn’t anything in the passages, save for rusted pipes and corroded wires.

Sophie forced herself forward, hugging the walls close behind Overton. She felt like something was watching her, tailing just behind them in the dark tunnel. Every few seconds she stole a glance over her shoulder to make sure the tunnel was clear.

It wasn’t long before they could see a blue light at the other end of the passage. They both blinked off their night vision and halted.

Overton balled his hand into a fist and took one knee. Sophie followed suit, and as if they’d drilled the motion countless times, they raised their rifles in unison and waited—waited for the Spiders to swarm the tunnel and consume them. Even when Sophie’s arm grew tired and her gun began to shake and dip, they still held their position.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Sophie, Overton stood and took a step forward into some sort of sticky goo. He didn’t take his eyes off the entrance of the passage—he didn’t need to. The substance he had stepped in was the same goo he had all over his armor. It was the blood of an injured Organic.

Which meant the massacre hadn’t been as one-sided as he thought. He motioned Sophie to join him with a silent nod and together they advanced toward the blue glow. With every step Sophie grew more anxious, her ears straining to catch a hint of metallic scraping. But the tunnel remained silent; it seemed they were alone.

From their vantage point, Overton could see that the passage opened up into another lobby. It was filled with orbs; too many to count. And hanging from the ceiling were dozens of Spiders.

Overton froze. Fear gripped him and prodded him to run, to retreat, but he remained still. If Sophie was right, the creatures could sense movement even with their senses confused by the RVM. It was the one advantage he had, and he wasn’t about to blow it because he was scared.

From behind the safety of his visor, his eyes darted back and forth, examining the room. It was completely open, with only a few concrete pillars to hide behind. A single stairway led to a set of metal doors. The glass was smudged with dirt and dust, but several rays of bright sunlight filtered in, turning the orbs closest to it a fluorescent green. They reminded Overton of the ornaments his mother used to decorate their Christmas tree with when he was a kid.

The contents of the orbs, however, prevented any warm or fuzzy childhood memories from returning. Over half of the spheres had split open, their prisoners fully liquefied. The floor was littered with sacks of skin and remnants of clothes. He took a step back into the tunnel, his stomach rolling.

From Sophie’s perspective, his body appeared to be split in two by the light, with half of his matte black armor exposed in the room and the other half hidden in darkness. She tiptoed up to him, catching a glimpse of what had made him retreat. Overton tapped her on the side of her helmet quietly, getting her attention. With one slow movement of his hand he pointed to the pillars closest to them, then to the staircase, and then back to his visor.

She managed a thumbs-up, took a deep breath, and followed him into the room. Everywhere her eyes fell, death stared back. But at the bottom of the stairs, one sphere’s contents were still mostly intact, and, to Sophie’s horror—still alive.

She slowed her pace to study the gaunt face of what had been a young woman. The greenish glow from the night vision illuminated the girl’s distorted features. Her eyes were almost completely glazed over.

Her lips were curled back, showcasing a mouthful of missing teeth. The skin of her face was sunken and stretched, and her blond hair was plastered to her skull like seaweed.

Sophie froze when the woman’s eyes came to rest on her. Overton was already a third of the way up the stairs, but Sophie couldn’t move. There had to be something she could do—some way she could help the girl.

A short burst of static broke over the com. “Move, Doc.”

Sophie didn’t need to look up to see Overton staring down at her from the top of the stairs. She willed her legs to move, but they wouldn’t respond.

I can’t leave her. Not like this.

She stepped forward and threw her rifle strap around her back. With a few careful footsteps, she navigated the gory remnants of skin and clothing from other victims.

“No!” Overton shouted into the com. “You can’t save her, Sophie. Leave her. That’s an order!”

Sophie ignored him and continued until she was less than a foot away from the woman. She brought her finger to her helmet, motioning the girl to remain silent. Instead, the girl’s eyes grew wide and bulged from her head. Her lips began to quiver and move, splitting open in the process. Blood seeped down her chin, and a scratchy moan escaped her throat.

“No. You have to be quiet,” Sophie said, bringing a finger to her helmet again. But it was too late. The woman erupted into a sub-human scream, the noise echoing off the concrete walls.

Sophie craned her neck and watched the Spiders begin to churn. Their claws slid across the concrete as they woke up.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

A wave of fear washed over Sophie as she turned back to the girl. With an audible pop the girl’s eyeballs exploded, spraying a bloody mist onto Sophie’s visor. Stumbling backwards, she grabbed her rifle. She tried to balance herself, but slipped on a sack of gore.

Her helmet hit the concrete with a thud. Stars filled her vision. Even with the padded support of the helmet, the trauma from the fall sent pain racing down her spine. She lay staring at the concrete ceiling, watching the Spiders crawl across it, their glittering eyes studying her from all directions.

She tried to sit up, but as the blood rushed to her head she was forced back down, gripping her helmet with both hands. Everything seemed to slow down when the first plasma rounds tore through the air above her. She watched the streaks of fire trace through the air and tear into the weak flesh of the Spiders. Their shields were still down, she realized, recharging from their recent feedings.

Sophie pushed herself up and stole one more glance at the woman, who was now disintegrating in the pool of liquid inside the orb. Sophie watched her disappear, knowing that it was a sight she’d carry with her for the rest of her life—however long it happened to last.

The high-pitched screams of the Spiders ripped through the silence and yanked her from her trance.

“Let’s go, Doc!” Overton screamed, squeezing off another few rounds at the rapidly approaching Spiders. Sophie shook her head one last time and sprinted for the stairs, climbing them two at a time.

Overton kicked the door open, and they were blasted with the astonishingly bright sunlight. Temporarily blinded, Overton blinked several times to tint his visor. He closed the door, shoving his combat knife between the two handles. The door shook violently as the creatures crashed into it from the other side. Their shrieks pounded inside Overton’s helmet, drowning out the sound of his thudding heartbeat.

Like a robot being commanded by a remote control, he grabbed Sophie by the arm and pulled her into the sunlight. They ran side by side down the tarmac toward two large hangars a hundred yards away. He tried to ignore the sounds of claws tearing through the metal behind him. Every few yards he stopped and fired off another few rounds at the door, sending a Spider or two to its death.

“Go!” Overton shouted between bursts.

The massive hangar doors dwarfed them as they approached. Overton looked between the two buildings, but he didn’t see any obvious sign that one held their spaceship.

“Which one is it?” Overton yelled.

Alexia’s calm voice broke over the channel. “After downloading the dimensions of the spacecraft, it’s only logical that the ship would be in the larger hangar. The second is too—”

Overton cut her off and shoved Sophie toward the sealed doors of the first hangar. “Find a way inside. I’ll hold off the horde!” he yelled, throwing himself on his stomach for a steadier sniping position.

Sophie grabbed an extra magazine from her belt and handed it to him. “Take this. You’re going to need it.”

“Thanks.” Overton grabbed the mag before firing off another volley of rounds at the heads of two Spiders crawling through a hole in the door.

She took off running, craning her neck around the approaching corner to get a better angle. With her rifle aimed at the metal edge of the building, she jumped around it, ready to fire, but the blind spot was clear. Relieved, she sprinted for the door and fired off several rounds into the lock. The rifle vibrated in her hands and pushed her backwards.

The power of the gun shocked her. It was the first time she had ever fired a pulse rifle, and she had done so without giving it a second thought. Less than a month ago she had been shut in her old lab, trying to solve sophisticated equations on her smart board, and now she was firing a high-powered pulse rifle with a horde of aliens chasing her. Saafi was gone, Emanuel was hundreds of miles away, and everyone she had ever cared about was dead or dying in a blue glowing prison cell.

She gritted her teeth and fired another round at the lock. The door broke open and she slipped into the hangar, blinking on her night vision as the darkness consumed her. When her eyes adjusted, she gasped. A large sign that read Secundo Casu towered over her, but the massive room was empty.

“NO!” she screamed. “It has to be here!” Sophie collapsed to her knees. The overwhelming feeling of defeat rushed through her as the ringing of gunfire filled her ears. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t bother to remove her helmet to wipe them away.

The sound of footsteps rang out behind her and she quickly turned. In the corner of the room, peeking out from behind one of the Humvees, two children in gas masks and fatigues that were far too large for them were staring at her. She hardly noticed the oversized assault rifles they were pointing in her direction.

“You’re too late,” one of the children said, stepping forward but keeping the weapon leveled at her. “The ship took off right after the monsters came.”

Sophie pushed herself off the ground, staring at the two figures. Behind her a volley of shots rang out, and the high-pitched shriek of another Spider bounced off the hangar walls.

The children hardly moved, unfazed by the terrifying sounds.

“Who are you?” the smaller one asked. “Are you here to rescue us?”

“Shut up, stupid!” the bigger child replied, smacking the other one on the back of the head. “If she was here to rescue us, she wouldn’t be crying.”

Sophie stopped sniffling and reached for her helmet, but halted as the larger boy pointed his weapon at her again.

“Watch it, lady! No sudden moves.”

The children sounded like boys, and judging by their frames she assumed the smaller one was about seven years old, the larger one no older than ten. But with the oversized fatigues, it was hard to tell.

“Listen,” Sophie managed to say. “I’m not here to hurt you. We came for the ship. That’s all.”

“Don’t you listen? The ship’s gone!” the larger boy shouted.

“We need to get out of here, they’re coming,” the other boy insisted, pulling on his friend’s arm.

“Do you want to live or what, lady?”

Sophie wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally she blinked the tears out of her eyes and managed to reply. “My friend’s outside, I need to get to him.”

The older boy tilted his head, listening to the gunfire, before checking the magazine in his own rifle. “He’s not going to last long. Follow me,” he said, taking off toward a ladder hanging on the wall behind the Humvee.

She hesitated before scooping up her rifle. Throwing the strap across her back, she opened the com link. “Overton, do you read?”

“Roger. Things are getting dicey. Not sure how much longer I can hold these bastards off. It looks like their shields are starting to regenerate. Did you find the package?”

Sophie closed her eyes against the pain. “No,” she said. “It’s gone.”

“Gone? What the fuck do you mean, it’s gone? You said it would be here!”

Sophie could picture Overton’s nostrils flaring and his eyes widening with anger. She couldn’t blame him.

“Hold tight, Sergeant. I found some survivors,” she said.

Silence filled the channel, followed by another volley of gunfire. “Survivors?”

“Just sit tight.”

On the roof the two children took up positions overlooking the tarmac. Below, dozens of Organics raced toward Overton. Both boys lay down on the metal surface and aimed their rifles. Sophie watched their precise, practiced movements in awe. The reality of the situation finally set in: With the majority of the adult population dead, only children who had managed to survive the first stages of the invasion would be left to fight the Organics.

It was a sobering thought. She imagined most of the children who had been lucky enough to survive in those first few hours would probably perish in the weeks to come, if they hadn’t already. But as she watched the two boys take out several of the creatures with a few well-aimed shots, she began to wonder if they had a chance after all. Could the younger generation take up arms against an enemy that had effectively wiped out their parents?

Highly unlikely.

The chirp of high-powered rifles joined the chatter of Overton’s pulse rifle, and she returned her focus to the battle below. She watched the slaughter with a grim smile on her face. Without their shields, the Spiders had no chance. Limbs and eyeballs rained down onto the tarmac in all directions, the blue goo washing over the blacktop like the innards of a gutted whale.

Minutes later it was over. The boys wasted no time reloading their weapons and heading back to the ladder.

“There’ll be more. We need to move,” the larger boy said calmly.

Sophie nodded and followed them back to the tarmac where Overton waited, his foot tapping, watching the gory mess for signs of survivors.

“If you want to live, come with us,” said the larger boy.

“What the fuck is going on?” Overton said, jamming another magazine into his rifle.

“There are always more,” the smaller boy said. “Please, come with us.”

Sophie grabbed Overton’s arm, silently persuading him to follow instead of argue. He pulled free and snorted into his com. The boys jogged at a steady pace toward the smaller hangar. Inside was a room furnished with modern desks, holographic consoles, and rows of monitors. NTC labels on metal crates revealed it to be the portable command center for Secundo Casu.

The two boys strolled through the equipment and stopped at a metal desk. The larger boy threw his rifle strap over his back and, with a short grunt, began pushing the desk across the concrete. Before Overton had a chance to help him, a hidden circular latch was revealed, similar to the one they had used to enter the train tunnel back at the Denver Airport.

“Get inside,” the boy said, opening the lid and motioning them forward.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Suit yourself,” the boy replied, climbing down the ladder. The other boy shrugged and followed him.

“They just saved our lives, Sergeant, and I don’t see any other option. Do you?” Sophie asked. She knew that sometimes the best way to convince a hard-headed person to do something was by putting the question back on them. If he didn’t have an answer then he would have no choice but to agree.

“Shit,” Overton said in a defeated tone. “You go first, I’ll close the lid.”

She didn’t argue, and began the descent. Overton watched her go, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t fucking believe this,” he mumbled under his breath. “Saved by ankle biters.” He chuckled and shut the lid, blinking his night vision back on as he descended into the darkness.

CHAPTER 29

THE boys led Overton and Sophie down some sort of maintenance tunnel that jutted out in several directions. They followed one of the passages to what appeared to be a dead end. It wasn’t until the larger boy trained his flashlight on a door clearly marked Storage that Sophie realized this was where they had been hiding.

The room was littered with empty cans and trash. Several filthy blankets sat bunched up in the corner next to a stack of bottled water.

Sophie eyed the precious liquid curiously, wondering how the children had survived so long without being captured by the Organics.

They had beaten the odds—odds so stacked against them that their survival was more miracle than luck. In a mathematical equation, their chances would have been called statistically insignificant.

Overton shut the door behind him and broke the silence. “Who are you?”

“You first,” the larger boy said. He rested his flashlight on the ground and slid his gas mask off, revealing a face no more than nine or ten years old.

“I’m Marine Sergeant Ash Overton, and this here is Dr. Sophie Winston with the NTC.”

The boy eyed them both suspiciously before turning to help the smaller child remove his gas mask. “I’m Jeff, and this is my little brother David.”

“Are you here to rescue us?” David asked, his brown eyes full of hope.

“Actually, we came here for another reason,” Sophie said. Checking the radiation gauge on her HUD, she unclasped her helmet straps and pulled it off, managing a smile. “We came for the spaceship.”

“I told you, it’s gone,” Jeff snapped.

“Yes, you did, but do you know where it went?”

“What’s it matter?”

Overton slid off his helmet and approached the boy, stopping less than a foot away. The Marine towered over him. “Just answer her question.”

The boy held his ground. “You don’t scare me.”

“Really? Because this is me being nice.”

Sophie put her hand on Overton’s shoulder and gave him a slight tug. “They saved our lives.”

“That doesn’t give him a free pass to show me attitude,” Overton said, but he retreated a few steps.

“Yeah, whatever, you’re all the same,” Jeff said, running a hand through his matted brown hair. He paced over to the corner and grabbed two bottles of water, tossing one to David.

“NTC, the military—they left us down here to die. Our dad was the only one that tried to save us,” the boy said, his voice sharp with anger.

“And he’s gone now,” David whimpered.

“I’m sorry about your dad, and I’m sorry you were left down here, but we aren’t going to leave you,” Sophie insisted.

David erupted in a fit of coughs and sat down on the concrete, pulling one of the dirty blankets over his legs. Jeff joined him and opened a can of peaches with a small knife.

“You need to eat,” he said, handing his brother the can.

Jeff looked up at Overton, and then at Sophie. In that moment, something in his eyes changed from angry to pleading. “He’s sick. You’re a doctor, so help him, lady.”

Sophie sat next to the child. His face was pale and covered in grime. She reached to wipe off some of the dirt, but he pulled away.

“I can help him, but not here. We need to get you back to our facility, where we have medicine.”

Jeff stood and placed his hands on his hips, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Where is your facility?”

Sophie paused. She didn’t want to tell him the truth. He was old enough to know they were more than a car ride from Denver.

“It’s in a safe place, but I can’t tell you where. It’s classified,” she lied.

Overton shot her a confused look but recovered quickly, realizing her strategy.

“There are other kids there, too,” he added. “Kids who survived like you two.”

David sucked a peach into his mouth and looked up at his brother. “Can we go with them?”

Jeff narrowed his eyes even further. After several seconds of silence, he reached down and patted his brother on the head. “Yeah, David, we can go with them.”

Bouma finished cleaning the gore out of the hallway with one final push of the mop. He eyed the broken ceiling tile where the Spiders had emerged. He’d spent as much time as he could cleaning up after the attack, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

“You’re really going up there?” a voice said from behind him.

He turned to see Holly leaning against the entrance of the hallway.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You could wait for the others to get back.” Her voice was different. Holly’s normal sweet tone had hardened, something he’d heard in soldiers before, after deployments. He didn’t respond. Instead, he unfolded a metal ladder and positioned it under the hole.

“They are coming back,” Holly insisted.

“I know,” Bouma said. “Where are the kids?”

“With Emanuel.”

“Okay. Now, do you remember what to do if something happens to me?”

“Hunker down in the med ward with Emanuel and the kids, and shoot anything that moves.”

“You got it,” Bouma said, grinning.

Holly fixated on the man’s crooked teeth. For a second, they reminded her of the sharp teeth lining the jaws of every Organic she had seen.

“Can you give me a hand with this?” Bouma asked as he started climbing the ladder. She gripped the ladder tightly, and watched the Marine reach for the vent cover. “I guess this means we have to postpone our walk.”

“Yeah, but it will give me something to look forward to,” he said, hoisting himself into the duct and staring into the pitch-black tunnel. A sudden chill of fear gripped him, and for a moment he had second thoughts about clearing the vents. He peered back down and saw Holly’s wide eyes staring up at him. She smiled, and the fear faded. He had a mission to finish, a squad to avenge, and a group of civilians to protect. And, best of all, a pretty girl waiting for him.

“Good luck,” she said as Bouma’s feet disappeared in the darkness.

The trip back to the train was painfully slow, providing Sophie with plenty of time to think. With Secundo Casu gone, her hope of seeing Mars was dead, and her hope for survival had diminished considerably. With every step she grew more anxious to get back to the Biosphere—back to Emanuel and the rest of her team.

By the time she reached the train, she had accepted the fact that the facility was her home for the foreseeable future. But was it really all that bad? The death toll worldwide could very well be in the billions, an unfathomable number. The Biosphere had virtually everything they needed to support their little band of survivors, and it was, to her knowledge, the safest place to ride out the invasion.

“Wow, cool,” David said as they rounded the last corner and the train came into view. “We get to ride on that?”

Overton hushed him with a finger. “Quiet, kid.”

The boy ignored him and rushed toward the automatic doors of the first cabin.

“Wait up,” Jeff shouted after him.

Their voices echoed off the concrete tunnel walls. Sophie smiled as Jeff chased his brother onto the platform, stopping him before he could enter the train. The boys wrestled playfully at the doors, David squirming in his brother’s grasp.

A shadow danced across their path.

Overton saw it at the same moment Sophie did. She froze, her stomach tightening as the blue glow washed over the dimly lit tunnel.

“Oh my God,” she whispered into her com. From her angle, she could vaguely make out the shape of the shadows approaching, but there was no mistaking the thin and bony legs of the Spiders. The black shadows raced across the platform. They extended their monstrous claws, reaching for the children.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The sound drowned out the boys’ arguing voices and they froze. Slowly, they tilted their heads and saw it—a tunnel overflowing with monsters, an entire army of them.

“Run!” Overton screamed, holding the trigger down on his rifle. Conserving ammo was no longer a concern. If he didn’t push the horde back quickly, he wasn’t going to need the bullets later.

Shocked into motion, Jeff shoved David forward, but the train’s automatic doors remained shut, and the boy crashed into the side. He bounced off with a bang and immediately started whimpering.

Sophie watched, horrified. She distinctly remembered leaving the train’s power on, just in case they needed to make a quick getaway, which meant the connection to the power source had been severed.

“Alexia, any suggestions on how to get this train started?” Sophie barked into the com.

“Yes, Dr. Winston. There should be an additional power interface in the engine car. My fuel cell should provide adequate energy.”

“Won’t that cause the RVM to fail?”

“Does it look like we need it right now?” Overton yelled.

Sophie risked a glance over her shoulder and watched what appeared to be hundreds of Spiders spilling out of the tunnel. Terror gripped her, but she forced herself forward and fired two shots into the closed train door. They hissed open and Sophie ordered both of the boys inside.

“Stay away from the windows,” she yelled before returning to the platform.

She raced to Overton, and with one swift tug she pulled Alexia’s fuel cell free of the device on his back. “I just need a few seconds,” she said.

Overton finished his magazine. The shots bounced off the creatures’ shields harmlessly. They were getting close, now only a few hundred yards away. A brilliant blue glow filled the tunnel, making the scene beautiful and eerie at the same time.

Sophie retreated to the rear of the train. She had almost reached the doors when a shadow consumed her. This time it wasn’t from a Spider. It was something different—something larger.

Her stomach sank as she turned to see a Sentinel towering over her. It wasted no time cracking its mouth open and releasing a deafening roar. She turned to run, but the creature lunged at her with its spiked tail. The impact penetrated her armor and sent her sailing through the air. She landed with a thud a few feet away from the train.

Farther down the platform, the Spiders surrounded Overton, clawing at the ground and shrieking like predators trying to intimidate their prey. He fired the last of his rounds and threw his rifle at the closest one before retrieving his pistol. “Come on, you bastards!” he screamed, squeezing off several shots, which ricocheted harmlessly off their shields.

Sophie watched him fall to his knees, overwhelmed by the creatures closing in around him.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Soon the sound would be replaced with tearing flesh and human screams. She couldn’t bear to watch. The sound of Spiders’ claws was drowned out by the scraping of the Sentinel’s tail as it dragged its spikes across the concrete.

Defeated, she watched the ugly creature slither toward her.

Good-bye, Emanuel. I tried.

Tears crept down her cheeks just as a brilliant flash of light washed over the platform, killing her HUD. Sophie blinked, struggling to see through the fuzzy display. She heard gunfire, the chatter of high-powered rifles. When her vision finally returned, she saw Jeff step out of the train and fire a round of shots at the Sentinel. The bullets sunk into the alien’s chest, blowing several melon-sized holes out of its back.

The boy grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into the belly of the train. He then raced back outside and began firing at the Spiders that were still circling Overton. His shots were surprisingly accurate, dropping several of the creatures.

Overton scooted back across the concrete and managed to push himself off the ground. He took off running, the bullets from Jeff’s gun whizzing dangerously close to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had electromagnetic concussion grenades?” he shouted, jumping onto the train.

“You didn’t ask,” Jeff said. He pried the fuel cell from Sophie’s numb grasp and ducked into the conductor’s cabin. Scanning the dashboard, he quickly located the power interface and shoved it home. The display panel glowed to life.

“Now my HUD’s dead and I can barely see shit,” Overton said. He slipped into the compartment and shoved the boy out of the way. “I got this.”

With a single click of a button, the train flared to life. It rolled forward, picking up momentum. Overton watched the Spiders and several Sentinels racing across the tracks toward the train, and with a grin hidden behind his helmet, he engaged the autopilot.

“Watch this, kid.”

The train picked up speed and raced forward, splattering the Organics in its path all over the tunnel.

Overton returned to the second car to check on Sophie. He found her spread out on one of the benches, David kneeling next to her.

“She’s hurt bad, mister,” he said.

“Don’t worry, kid, she’s going to be all right,” Overton said. But his eyes had already found the foot-long gash along her side.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Hang in there, Sophie. I’m going to get you home.”

Somewhere inside her head, Sophie could hear Overton’s voice, but as the adrenaline in her system was replaced by pain, she slipped into shock, closed her eyes, and drifted into unconsciousness.

Bouma strained his ears. Somewhere in the distance, a series of metallic clicks rang out, followed by the ambient sound of the ventilation system turning on.

He continued on, wriggling through the tight ductwork. Checking his HUD first for heat signatures, he blinked his night vision back on. The passage was clear.

Stopping at an intersection, he managed to push himself onto his knees, first looking to his left and then to his right.

“Damn,” he muttered. He had only been crawling through the guts of the system for fifteen minutes, and he was already lost.

He reached for his tablet and slid it in front of him, blinking off his night vision. The screen displayed the internal blueprints of the Biosphere. Running his finger along the surface, he followed one of the red lines. It didn’t take long to find his approximate location. He wasn’t far from the vent above the med ward, the area where the Spiders most likely would have sought refuge after they feasted on Saafi.

He slid the tablet back into its pouch and peeked around the corner. As the screen dimmed, he saw there was another light source. Resisting the urge to turn his night vision back on, he crawled forward. At the end of the passage he could see the outlines of what appeared to be several balls.

Moments later he was feet away from a cluster of glowing orbs—smaller ones, no larger than a basketball. He felt his heart beating faster, his breathing becoming labored. These were unlike the others. They were different—they were eggs.

He closed his eyes, trying to blink the sight away. But all it did was enhance his night vision, filling his display with a vibrant green glow.

He forced himself to crawl a few paces forward. With a quick jab, he poked one of the eggs with his rifle barrel.

The skin of the orb pulsated to life, revealing a tiny creature inside. Startled, Bouma scooted away from the thing, smashing into the side of the duct. He took a deep breath and focused on calming his heart rate. He watched the creature unfold one of its many legs, each with a miniature claw on the end. As the baby Spider began to tear through the fragile skin of the orb, Bouma grabbed his rifle. He didn’t stop to think about what the eggs signified—he didn’t stop to consider what it meant for the future of the human race. He simply squeezed off a single volley of shots, turning the cluster of eggs into messy blue pulp before continuing forward.

He had a promise to keep. He was going to kill them all.

CHAPTER 30

SOPHIE opened her eyes to an endless sea of red sand and a bright, unforgiving sun. At first she thought she was in the Wastelands, but as she examined her surroundings she saw the unmistakable impact scars from asteroids. She was on Mars.

She closed her eyes, expecting to wake up when she opened them. But as soon as her eyelids flicked open, her vision was filled once more with red sand.

Am I dead?

It was the only explanation.

“Dr. Winston,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned to see a hologram of Dr. Hoffman standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest.

“If you are seeing this message, then not only have I underestimated you, but you have beaten the odds. You have shown an impressive resilience, Dr. Winston. In fact, I never believed you had it in you. Now, what I am about to tell you is going to come as a shock. You’re going to be confused and angry. But you have to understand that what I have done was for the good of all mankind.”

He paused and looked down in her direction, his obsidian eyes burning into her own.

“You see, the Biosphere mission was always a failsafe. It was one of many we strategically placed throughout the world in preparation for the invasion, little vaults of humanity’s treasures, if you will. We selected teams of people from all walks of life, promising them all whatever they needed to be offered in order to accept the mission. In your case, it was a trip to Mars—a trip I’m afraid you will never be making.”

Sophie tried to move, but she was paralyzed. Her lips quivered with anger as she listened, unable to respond.

“I know this information must be devastating, but as I said, I did this to save our species. When we realized the world was dying faster than we ever predicted, we decided it was time to colonize Mars. But when we found out about the Organics, we knew we couldn’t pin all our hopes on the Red Planet. We needed to plant the seeds for our survival on Earth as well.”

Dr. Hoffman sighed, dropping his hands to his sides.

“You see, the Organics weren’t trying to exterminate us in 2055—they were just testing our defenses. They came here, as you probably know by now, for water. We don’t know how much they will take or if they will ever leave, but I do know if even a few of the Biospheres survive, our species will have a fighting chance.”

“If I know you as well as I think I do, you are probably furious right now, and this last bit of information I am going to share is going to upset you even more. By the time you get this message, we will probably be well on our way. I set up one final failsafe: Secundo Casu.”

The words raced through Sophie’s mind. There had never been a seat on the ship for her or her team. Hoffman had manipulated them all. The contract, the mission—it was all based on a series of well-planned lies. But knowing what she knew now, could she blame him?

“Please know I take no pleasure in telling you this. I do wish you could be here when we open the doors and step out onto the red sand. There is one gift I have left for you in case everything else fails. Inside the command center, you will find a two-way radio that operates on only one frequency. It’s encrypted, and virtually indestructible. You can use it to communicate with the other Biospheres. I wish you the best of luck, Dr. Winston.”

She watched his image fade. It took a few minutes for the information to saturate her brain, but it was more than enough time to grasp the fact she had been completely deceived. As she sat, replaying the message in her mind, another pair of voices drifted through the wind.

“Sophie, can you hear me?” one of them said.

A calm, robotic voice quickly followed. “Dr. Winston, are you awake?”

She blinked, and the red sand was replaced by the white walls of the med ward.

“Sophie!” Emanuel reached for her, naked relief on his face.

“Give her some space,” a rough voice said from her other side. She didn’t need to turn to see Overton’s scarred face peering down at her.

“Dr. Hoffman! The radio! We have to find the radio,” she said, struggling to get out of her bed.

“It’s okay, Sophie, we heard the message too,” Emanuel said, soothingly.

“But, how? What happened?” she asked.

“A couple of kids saved our asses. That’s what happened.”

Sophie managed a smile. She turned her head to the right to see Holly sitting with Jamie and Owen. David and Jeff sat on another bench, digging into a couple of freeze-dried meals. Standing next to them was Bouma. He winked at her.

She finished scanning the room and realized someone was missing. “Where’s Timothy?”

Emanuel took her hand. “There were two Spiders hibernating in the ceiling. They killed him. But that isn’t all.” Emanuel paused, realizing the information might be too much for her to handle right away.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

“Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

“Bad.”

“First, the radio Dr. Hoffman was referring to doesn’t work,” he said. “We can’t get any other Biospheres online. Which either means everyone else is dead, or the disruption outside is preventing communication.”

“And second?” Sophie asked.

Emanuel took a deep breath. “Second, the Organics are reproducing, and by the looks of it they are doing so at an alarming rate.”

Her stomach lurched. She didn’t need a seasoned Marine like Overton to tell her what it meant. If they were spawning, then the survivors wouldn’t just be fighting against an army with a set number of soldiers—they would be fighting against an enemy with the ability to replace its dead. And judging by the radio silence, it sounded like they would be doing so alone.

“What’s the good news?”

“I may have found a way to kill them.”

Overton’s ears perked up immediately. “What do you mean?”

Emanuel rubbed his hands together. “It’s fascinating, actually. Their blood is made up of about 80 percent H_2O and 20 percent plasma-like substance. The ions are what charge their shields. I think their shields function sort of like the suit an astronaut wears in space: It protects them from a hostile environment, one I don’t believe they could survive without their defenses.” He paused to check whether Overton and Bouma were following.

“Go on,” Overton growled.

“Yeah, get on with it,” Bouma said. “No need to wait for the slow kids.” He caught a glimpse of Holly smiling at him, and felt his cheeks glow red.

“As I was saying, when they feed or reproduce, their shields drop. Not all the way, just enough so their blood can regenerate. Now, if we can find a way to drop their shields all the way on a massive level, I think we can kill them. Kill all of them.”

“Like some sort of EMP?” Overton asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I need to do more research.”

“This should be our number one priority from here on out,” Overton said.

Sophie coughed deeply, interrupting the conversation.

“Are you okay, Dr. Winston? Your heart rate is elevated,” Alexia said. Her hologram emerged over the corner console, and for a split second Sophie thought she saw a flicker of concern cross her face.

“I feel pretty good, considering,” she said, attempting to sit up. The slight movement sent a wave of fatigue through her body. She rested her head back on the pillow. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost five days. Your heart rate was so low when we got you back here that we had no choice but to put you in a cryo chamber. You also had a nasty gash on your side that required Alexia to perform emergency surgery,” Emanuel said. “You look a heck of a lot better now.”

“Did you listen to the message from Dr. Hoffman?” Holly asked.

Sophie reached under the covers of her bed and massaged her injury. The rough surface of what would be a very nasty scar ran from her hip to her belly button.

“Yes, I heard it all.”

“Good. We hoped if we hooked you up to one of Alexia’s AI consoles with electrical nodes you would hear the message. We thought it might trigger something in your implant,” said Emanuel. “It was playing on all our monitors for a day and a half.”

“Smart thinking there,” Overton said, patting Emanuel on the back.

The Marine smiled and ran a hand through his hair before turning back to Sophie. “You should rest.” He began ushering the team out of the room. “Come on, everyone.”

Sophie watched them leave as a wave of drowsiness swept over her. With one last ounce of energy, she grabbed Emanuel and tugged gently on his arm.

“Will you stay with me a bit longer?”

He smiled and dragged a stool up to the side of the bed. He sat down and held her hand, his thumb tracing her palm.

“Do you really think you can find a way to kill the Organics?” she asked quietly.

Emanuel nodded without hesitation. “Everything has a weakness, and I’ve found theirs.”

They sat in silence for several moments. The lights in the room dimmed, and the ambient sound of the ventilation system kicked on. Sophie concentrated on the warmth of his hand over hers. They both knew what had been lost, what Dr. Hoffman’s message meant for the future of mankind. And most of all, they knew how difficult it would be to survive in this strange new world. But, for that single moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that they had each other—and hope.

EPILOGUE

A CRIMSON sunset peeked above the black outline of a mountain range in the distance. The cloudless sky was a brilliant mixture of orange and purple, almost obscene in contrast with the dying valley below. A dry riverbed snaked through a browning forest. It had been weeks since the invasion, and the world was a very different place. Surface water was gone. The temperature had risen several degrees, and humidity was nonexistent. According to Alexia’s calculations, the sea levels were slowly dropping around the planet. The Organics were advanced, but not all-powerful. They had found a way to get almost every ounce of freshwater on the planet, but the saltwater was slowing them down.

The Earth was dying, but it had been dying for a long time.

Sophie sucked in a breath of the dry air while listening to the now-familiar sound of laughing children. She turned to see Overton tossing a football to Owen and David halfway down the tarmac.

“When you’re taking a long shot, you have to take wind direction into consideration,” said Bouma from a few yards away. Sophie leaned her back against the outside of the blast doors and watched him help Jeff sight his rifle over the valley.

Holly was strolling across the tarmac with Jamie in tow. They stopped next to Owen, and Jamie picked up the football, pretending to hand it to him.

“Here you go,” she said with an innocent smile.

Owen reached out to grab it, but she yanked it away. “Bet you can’t catch me!” she shrieked, taking off down the runway.

Overton laughed. “Don’t go too far!”

“Think it’s really safe out here?” Sophie slid a few feet over to make room for Emanuel.

“Overton said there hasn’t been a sign of a drone in over a week,” Sophie said. “The RVM seems to be keeping them away.”

“For now,” Emanuel said.

Sophie didn’t respond. She didn’t want to think about the inevitable, not today. She didn’t want to think about when the Organics would come back, or when the team would be forced out of the Biosphere to scavenge for supplies. She just wanted to enjoy the sunset and watch the children.

“Got you!” Owen yelled as he wrapped Jamie in his tiny arms. She squealed with laughter.

A smile broke across Sophie’s face. It was then it finally hit her. She was looking at their future. All this time, she had believed the Biosphere mission was the most important one of her life, that Mars was the future for humanity. But as she scanned the faces of the four children, she knew that her mission had changed. Her goal was no longer to prepare for a new life on a distant planet—it was to protect what was left of life on Earth.

She thought briefly of those that they had lost: Saafi, Timothy, Finley, her parents, and those of the children they’d managed to save, and the billions of others who had perished. She wouldn’t let their deaths go unavenged. Dr. Hoffman was right about one thing: the human race had to go on.

Alexia’s calm voice sounded over Sophie’s headset. She put her finger to the earbud, straining to listen over the children’s laughter. “Dr. Winston, I’m picking up a radio transmission on the device Dr. Hoffman left behind.”

Sophie gasped, reaching for the radio on her belt, but her hands came up empty. She had left it inside. “Can you patch it through?”

Static filled the channel for several seconds before a muffled voice finally broke through.

“This is Alex Wagner with the Biosphere facility at Edwards Air Force Base in California, requesting assistance. Over.”

Sophie froze, her eyes widening as she grabbed Emanuel’s hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Overton drop the football and put his finger to his earbud. One by one her team members stopped what they were doing and rushed over to her.

“What do we do?” Bouma asked. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Holly, and for a moment Sophie thought she saw their hands touch.

“Well?” Overton said. “How are you going to respond?”

Sophie hesitated, looking at Emanuel for assistance before turning to face her team. Holly’s advice from days before echoed in her mind. Now was the time to make good on her promise to Holly and to herself. “We tell them they’re not alone,” she said firmly. “And then we tell them that we’re working on a way to defeat the Organics.”

In the distance, the sun had finally disappeared behind the black mountain range. Sophie took a moment to admire the dazzling, star-filled sky. As she scanned the heavens, she couldn’t help but wonder if one of the tiny dots of light was Secundo Casu on its way to Mars.

—End of Book I—

THANK YOU

Thank you for reading Orbs. If you enjoyed this book, please stop by my Facebook page or follow me on Twitter for updates on the Orbs series.

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To my friends at Simon451 for all the support and encouragement, and for believing in me and the Orbs series—especially my editor, Brit Hvide

PROLOGUE

THE waking sun cast a brilliant glow over the wasteland as it crawled higher into the morning sky. Rays of scorching light carpeted the remnants of lakebeds and extinct rivers, unveiling the sun-bleached bones of dead trees that littered the harsh landscape.

Alex Wagner cleared his visor of grime, wishing he could wipe away the beads of sweat forming inside his helmet. The ventilation system in the suit he had swiped off a dead NTC soldier had stopped working yesterday.

He adjusted his lean, athletic body inside the oversized suit. The damned hunk of armor was more of a detriment than anything. He glanced down at the exposed skin of his forearm beneath the foot-long claw mark in the suit. Standing there under the blistering heat of the sun, he imagined what the soldier he’d taken the suit from had been thinking in the moments before his death. A blur of images entered his mind and then solidified into a vivid picture. The razor-sharp claws slashing through the air, the guttural shrieks of the aliens hunting the NTC soldier. Alex could see it all, because he too had experienced it, and the memory made his skin crawl.

A gust of wind whistled past his suit, peppering his visor with dirt. Alex flinched. Squinting, he blinked several times to avoid the burning sweat dripping from his forehead and checked the temperature reading on his HUD.

One hundred degrees.

Could that be right? He checked his mission clock; it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. If the reading was correct, it meant the temperature was rising faster than he thought. But maybe it was wrong. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

He peered back down at the claw mark in his suit. The damage to the suit had probably destroyed more than just the ventilation system. Cursing under his breath, he pushed on through the hissing sand. When the wind cleared, he caught a glimpse of the wasteland around him.

Like a photograph, the world appeared in a simple, frozen pane through his visor’s glass. He halted to take in the view, his boots sliding to a stop in the loose sand. In the valley below, the dead branches of leafless trees reached toward the white sun. A deep groove from a dried-up river snaked through the cracked red dirt. Beyond the cluster of trees he could see the hint of a road, two dusty trucks sitting idly where they had been abandoned on invasion day.

Taking in a measured breath, Alex closed his eyes to listen to this new world. The sound of death echoed inside his helmet: the cracking of a dying tree branch, the desperate bark of a starving dog somewhere in the distance, and the memories of the people screaming as he watched them die. It was a chorus playing on repeat, and he knew it would be with him until he, too, died.

Alex couldn’t grasp why he had survived, while so many others had perished. What made him so lucky?

He pushed on, trying to recall the series of events that had led him here. The time line blurred like the heat waves on the horizon.

He could remember signing on the dotted line, promising six months of his life to a Biosphere team. But he still wasn’t sure why they had picked him. He wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t a genius or even exceptionally smart. Five weeks before the invasion, he had simply been a history teacher and assistant football coach for the local high school team. Sure, he’d had a good run as a wide receiver in college, so good that he’d drawn the attention of a few NFL scouts before he blew out his knee, but that didn’t explain NTC’s interest in him. There were millions of people better suited for the project. Divorced and saddled with student loan debt, Alex was hardly the best candidate for an NTC-run Biosphere team.

Yet they had recruited him. His decision to accept their offer might have even saved his life. But for how long?

With the surface water gone, the temperature would continue to rise, baking the Earth’s surface. Trees would die and stop producing oxygen, filling the atmosphere with unbreathable levels of carbon dioxide. Alex hadn’t taken a science class since college, but even he knew what was happening. He had a front-row seat to the end of the world.

The Earth was dying, and so was the human race—what was left of it, anyway.

Alex stumbled over a rock as he continued deeper into the valley. His helmet bobbed up and down, his dry lips smacking together with every step. The heat was nearly unbearable, and he was low on water, but still he remained focused, vigilant.

He hadn’t seen any of the aliens for hours now, and he hadn’t come face-to-face with any since they had attacked his Biosphere. The memory was still fresh, hemorrhaging like an open wound.

Four days earlier, he had been sitting in the mess hall with nine of his teammates, chatting over plates of pasta that he had cooked himself. They heard the faint scratching and scraping noise first. Then came the terrible high-pitched shrieks that made him want to cup his ears. A brilliant blue glow followed moments later as dozens of the spiderlike creatures emerged from the ceiling.

He’d escaped into a sewage line, covered in hog manure and his friends’ blood. At first he’d hesitated and turned to go back, but what he saw from inside that tunnel changed his mind—the Spiders spinning his screaming colleagues into orbs. He crawled away like a coward minutes after, tears streaming down his filthy face.

He shook away these thoughts and continued walking, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the landscape for signs of the monsters. He focused on a dust-covered road sign in the distance.

His plan was simple: head west, toward the ocean. The Biosphere had been located in an abandoned missile silo on the outskirts of Edwards Air Force Base in California. Alex, a Maryland native, had little knowledge of the local geography and could only guess that he was now somewhere northwest of the base. After escaping the attack, he had headed as far away from Edwards as possible. He didn’t need a military background to know the Organics were probably swarming there. After four days of traveling, he knew he had to be close. Maybe he’d get to see the Pacific before he died, after all . . . if it was still there.

An abrupt and powerful windblast knocked him into a boulder, his armor meeting the rock with a crunch. As he pushed himself off the dirt, he caught a glimpse of something. The sky to the west seemed different; there was a blue wall on the horizon. It couldn’t be. Could it?

It looked a lot like rain.

Another wind gust tore into his side, knocking him to his knees.

He grunted, pain racing through his body. He was burning up in his suit, and the inside of his helmet felt like a furnace. Sweat stung his eyes. He winced, waiting for the burning to subside. For a former college athlete, he wasn’t in the best shape, but at least his damned knee wasn’t acting up.

As his vision cleared, he saw something odd about the rain: It was traveling up, into the sky.

Were his eyes playing a trick on him? Was his body finally succumbing to dehydration?

He forced himself deeper into the valley, heading for the rocky hills to the west. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he tried to focus on the phenomenon in the distance.

What the hell was it?

The rainstorm appeared beyond the rocks, but just how far beyond he wasn’t sure. Alex paused to marvel at the sky. He licked his dry lips with grim fascination, his gaze locked onto the strange rain. He knew he didn’t have the energy to travel much farther, but he was curious, and his curiosity propelled him forward across the dead landscape.

An hour later he reached the last embankment of the valley. Gasping for air, he began to climb, clawing his way up the loose dirt. Rocks and dead vegetation rained down the hill behind him. By the time he reached the top he could hardly breathe. He inhaled, closing his eyes as air filled his lungs.

“Just a little farther,” he muttered.

From the hilltop he could see a tan beach extending along the shoreline for miles, but where there would normally have been sunbathers, there was a graveyard of boats. Hulls were twisted in all directions, their cargo littered across the sand.

The ocean had receded far beyond the buoys that had once warned boats away from rocky areas. Now, they stuck out of the sand like dormant missiles. Miles away, the wall of water rose out of the ocean where it was still deep and blue.

He followed the rain with his eyes until it disappeared into the sky. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they must be there. Somewhere above him, the aliens had a ship that was draining the sea.

Alex shook his head and another bead of sweat dropped into his eye. He grimaced, waiting for the pain to subside. To the east, rectangular buildings rose up out of the ground, the structures flickering in the heat waves. Civilization meant resources, which meant water and food. But it also meant danger. Spiders tended to congregate near cities and towns.

He hesitated, painfully aware of the dryness in his throat. Alex knew he was going to die, one way or another. It wasn’t a matter of if, just a matter of when and how. And he had two choices: die from dehydration, or die like the NTC soldier that had worn the suit before him.

Neither option was particularly appealing. He took one last look at the wall of rain over his shoulder and started down the other side of the hill.

Alex approached the buildings cautiously, scanning for aliens. There was no sign of movement besides the blur of a miniature dust tornado brewing in the distance. He paused, listening for any hint of the creatures’ shrieks. Just because he didn’t see them didn’t mean they couldn’t detect him. That was another thing he had picked up during the last four days: If he wanted to stay alive, he had to keep focused.

He checked his HUD again. The display revealed no signs of life. Hesitating, he strained to listen one more time. Besides the wind, he heard nothing but the whining sound of a strained power line.

Satisfied, he entered civilization for the first time in days; a neighborhood, much like the one he’d grown up in, sprawled out in front of him.

He checked the road to ensure it was clear and then took off running into the yard across the street. The tall blades of prairie grass snapped like twigs as he passed through them. Nothing green remained, not a single leaf.

Alex’s vision fogged over. Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on the house in front of him, but the effects of dehydration were taking over. He rested against a child’s swing set and listened again for the familiar scratching of Spiders. Wiping his visor clean, he saw the filthy glass doors leading into the house. They were covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise unscathed. He checked the windows; they too seemed to be undisturbed. His HUD still looked clear. Everything appeared safe.

The thought gave him pause. Nothing was safe, not anymore.

Five quick paces across the yard and he was at the door, resting his back against the house’s aged siding. His first impulse was to break the glass, but instead he tried the handle. It clicked, unlocked.

He grinned with relief at the small victory as he slipped through the opening, but his smile was short-lived. Inside he was greeted by a dark room. Only a few rays of sunlight bled through the curtains to guide him. Standing there in the shadows, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by fear. Slowly, he reached down and drew his combat knife out of its sheath.

The knife shook in his gloved hand. Holding the weapon did not feel natural. He was a teacher, not a soldier, and he had never been a fan of weapons. But this was a different world—a world where he had no choice but to protect himself.

Crossing the room cautiously, he tiptoed toward the kitchen, the knife held out before him. He froze again when he saw the undisturbed room. Three plates were arranged neatly on the table for a family that would never eat together again. The room was an eerie relic from another time, when food, water, and shelter were taken for granted; a time when people’s biggest concern was whether they would be able to make their credit card payment. The world had changed overnight. Bills no longer mattered. Monsters were real. And water was the most important commodity of all.

Shaking the scene from his thoughts, he made his way to the fridge, opening the door to reveal a bottle of rotten milk and a few cans of beer. A week earlier, he would have jumped at the sight of a beer, but now the cans did nothing but make him crave water even more. He closed the door slowly and turned to the cabinets. The first two held nothing but spices and a few boxes of rigatoni. The next two were full of dusty glasses and plates. With a sigh, he closed them and moved on to the fifth. He licked his chapped lips out of habit, noticing that the blood had dried up.

He swung the door open, desperate to find something to quench his thirst or satisfy his hunger. Inside were a can of beans, a can of soup, and a couple boxes of cereal.

Someone must have looted the house before him. Something inside him brightened at the idea. Maybe that person was still out there. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all. He opened up his backpack and dropped the beans and soup inside to eat later, and walked back through the hallway.

He passed a door that was open a crack. Sliding his fingers into the gap, he slowly opened it farther, revealing a dark utility closet. His heart raced when he saw the outline of a water heater. He recalled the documentary about civilians who survived the solar storms of 2055. A man whose name escaped him had lived for three months off the water inside his water heater.

He clicked on his flashlight and swept the beam over the dark space. Crouching, he took one step inside the room. His heart sank when he felt his boot slide through a gooey substance.

He closed his eyes, sucked in a measured breath, and then angled the light at the floor. He knew what the substance was, but wanted to see it with his own eyes. When they snapped open, he saw the remains of an orb.

“My God,” he said, pulling his boot out of the sticky material. He was alone after all. There was nothing left of whoever had taken refuge in the closet, nor was there any water left in the small heater, which had a claw mark across the length of the metal.

Alex didn’t bother closing the door. The orb was relatively fresh, not the dried-out type he had come across before. He knew the aliens were probably still nearby. Moving slowly across the carpeted floor, he decided to head upstairs. He wanted a view of the block, to see if he was right—to see if they were still there. Gripping the combat knife tightly, he ducked around the next corner and stopped at the bottom of a large wooden staircase that led to the second floor.

The stairs creaked under the weight of his boots, and he cursed under his breath. He winced with each step, every fiber in the wood creaking as he moved.

To his relief, carpet covered the hallway at the top of the stairs. His boots sank silently into the material, and for a second he felt a brief reprieve from the fear. The first door to his right led to a bedroom. In the corner he could see a window looking over the street below. To his left was a small bathroom.

He checked the sink first. It was bone dry. Then his eyes fell on the toilet. Never in his life had he thought the sight of a toilet would fill him with such hope. His eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning when he lifted the lid and saw a few ounces of cloudy water in the bowl.

Swinging his backpack onto the floor, he crouched and retrieved the straw he had lifted from a fast-food restaurant. The utensil had already come in handy on several occasions. He closed his eyes as he bent to his knees and started sucking the water down his dry throat, trying not to think about the germs. The odd sound echoed through the quiet house, but he no longer cared. All that mattered was water.

When the bowl was dry, he stood to check the tank. It was half full, but the water was a reddish-brown, more than likely a result of rust from the chain.

Was it safe? Did it even matter?

He hesitated, staring at the murky liquid. It could be his last chance to find drinkable water for days. Especially if the Organics were nearby. He couldn’t risk entering another house; he had already gotten lucky once.

As he filled his canteen with the reddish-brown water from the tank, an alarming shriek broke through the silence. He fumbled with the bottle, nearly spilling the liquid on the floor. The sound faded away as quickly as it had emerged.

He froze. Several silent seconds passed. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had the sound just been a fluke? Some pipe creaking in the bowels of the house?

Another screech tore through the stillness.

That was the sound they made. The aliens were close.

The hair on Alex’s neck stood up. Another shriek followed. Shocked into motion, he scooped up the last of the water from the tank and rushed back into the hallway. He scanned the passage. Should he risk going downstairs, or should he find a place to hide?

He remembered the creaky stairs and decided against trying to escape. Instead, he slipped into the first bedroom. He looked over the room quickly, and saw it was furnished with a twin bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. In the corner of the room, next to the window, there was a tall closest, the perfect hiding place.

Without hesitation he crossed the room and slipped inside, shutting the bifold doors silently behind him. Setting his helmet and pack on the floor, he turned to peek through the crack. The angle gave him the perfect view of a window covered by a thin white curtain.

Beyond the dirty glass he could see movement in the street below. When his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, he saw them.

There were hundreds of the aliens. The entire ground looked alive, teeming with the creatures. He watched in shock as a pack of Spiders feasted on the remains of the cul-de-sac’s residents. The monsters fought over the scraps, shrieking and clawing at one another. His eyes followed the trail of gore to a massive wormlike creature that lay curled up next to a car.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen one of them. And, if he survived, it probably would not be the last. He had come across a parking lot the day before filled with the floating blue orbs. He had watched a pair of Worms slither across the blacktop, consuming the spheres and their human prisoners, sucking them almost dry of water before spitting out the remains for the Spiders to feed on.

His heart jumped in his chest as he suddenly felt the sensation of being watched. With trepidation he glanced down to see one of the Spiders staring at him with large, glassy eyes.

Before Alex could slip into the closet’s shadows, the creature tilted its head like a curious dog. With bated breath he waited, his heart pumping rapidly inside his chest.

Had it seen him? Could it sense him?

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Alex knew what that sound meant.

The Spider had seen him. He moved to the window and pulled back the drape. Outside, the creatures skittered around on the blacktop, their mandibles parting to unleash hellish shrieks. He watched in horror as hundreds of eyes stared back up at him, twitching. Never had he seen so many. . . .

He realized that their behavior wasn’t that different from his own. The Organics were hungry, and to them, Alex was nothing more than a meal on legs.

CHAPTER 1

DR. Sophie Winston replayed the message on her tablet again. It was the fourth time in as many minutes, but she needed to hear it once more just to be sure it was real.

“This is Alex Wagner with the Biosphere facility at Edwards Air Force Base in California, requesting assistance. Over.”

Their mission had been a lie from the beginning. A damned rotten lie straight from the mouth of Dr. Hoffman, the CEO of New Tech Corporation—the man she had thought would lead humanity to a sanctuary on Mars. But there was at least hope: Someone else had survived the invasion, someone who needed help. And if there was one, Sophie knew there would be others.

Dr. Emanuel Rodriguez crossed the mess hall and plopped down on the metal stool across from Sophie. He slid a glass of water to her and with a hesitant smile said, “It’s starting to sound like a broken record’s playing over here.”

Sophie frowned and studied the clear liquid in a way she never had before. At first glance, there was nothing special about it. Then again, gasoline had seemed ordinary before the resource had become scarce.

She met Emanuel’s concerned gaze and tried to return his smile.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, there’s just a lot on my mind. Sergeant Overton still can’t get a message through to this other Biosphere, and their SOS stopped replaying four days ago. Something catastrophic must have happened,” Sophie said.

Emanuel sighed. “Well, then I should probably keep this next comment to myself. I don’t want to add to your stress,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She smiled but pulled away from his touch, reaching instead to massage her side. The weeks-old injury was healing nicely, but there was still the sporadic pain, and the scar that would be with her for the rest of her life. A slight twinge of pain followed her fingers but quickly faded away.

“Just spill it,” she said.

“It’s the readings from the drone we sent outside. The temperature is still rising. In the past five weeks, it’s already gone up two degrees—and that’s about to become three. If this keeps up—”

“We may die before the Organics drain the oceans after all?”

Emanuel nodded. “I’m concerned about the carbon locked away in the polar ice caps. When they melt, it will be released, increasing the greenhouse effect. That’s probably why the temperature is rising faster than Alexia calculated.”

“My God,” Sophie whispered.

Even after five weeks of living in this new world, Sophie still hadn’t fully grasped what had happened outside the Biosphere doors. Sure, she’d seen the empty streets, the orbs, and the alien monsters, but it wasn’t until she crunched the numbers that it finally became very clear—the planet, and all the life upon it, was taking its last breaths.

She had to remember the positives—the things she was thankful for, starting with the fact that the Biosphere was functioning well and Biome 1 was close to producing its first harvest. They still had power from the solar panels and backup generators for an indefinite amount of time. The reverse magnetic pulse generator they had taken from Luke Williard’s bunker was still fully operational. Without the RVM, they would have perished weeks ago. And Sophie couldn’t forget Alexia. The AI had proven more useful than she ever imagined.

Sophie reached for the glass of water and took a slow sip, savoring the liquid as it slid down her throat. “What about the oceans?” she asked. “What do we know about their current levels?”

Emanuel shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. The only way to really know is to send another drone.”

Sophie crossed her arms and watched Emanuel as he compulsively pushed his glasses farther up his nose. It was something he always did before testing a new hypothesis.

“I think we should send the second drone,” he said.

“We already discussed this.”

“I know, but things have changed. The temperature is rising faster than we thought.”

Sophie sighed. They only had two robots. One was in the field, and the other was out of commission. They could fix it, but she didn’t want to risk losing them both. “I’ve said it before: We need to wait for the other drone to get back safely.”

The PA system suddenly crackled to life, and Alexia’s holographic avatar flickered over a console in the center of the mess hall. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctors, but a pressing matter requires your attention,” she said in her calm voice. Emanuel spun in his chair. “What ya got, Alexia?”

“Sir, our drone has picked up some unusual activity outside.”

Sophie stood, groaning from a jolt of pain. “Unusual?”

“I think it’s best if you go look for yourself . . . and I encourage you to go now,” Alexia said in a voice that sounded almost frightened. Can robots feel fear? Sophie wondered briefly. She shook the thought away and raced out of the mess hall, with Emanuel close behind.

The sound of their footsteps echoed in the narrow passage as they made their way to the command center (CIC). Sergeant Overton met them at the door. He wore a serious face, more pale than usual, but it was his eyes that caused Sophie to skid to a halt. They were wide and intense.

What has he seen? What has Alexia found?

She stood on her toes to get a look at the blurry monitors at the other end of the room, but couldn’t see anything besides the flickering glow the devices emanated.

“Will you move, please?” she blurted, her voice anxious.

“I don’t think you want to see this, Sophie,” Overton replied.

Whatever the drone had relayed to the CIC had turned the battle-hardened sergeant into a silent observer. It was odd not hearing him curse or grumble. Sophie’s curiosity grew. The scientist in her wanted to see, had to see what it was.

“Excuse me,” Sophie said, edging past the marine.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as Emanuel followed her.

Sophie moved up to the monitors and saw the drone had stopped on the edge of a clearing surrounded by a forest of dead trees. Leafless branches swayed in the light breeze, partially obstructing the view.

To the north the ground fell away and dropped several feet into a dry lakebed. Moving across the cracked dirt was a long line of . . . something.

Sophie edged closer to the screens. Squinting, she focused on the shapes as one of them let out a blood-curdling—and undeniably human—scream.

She clapped her hands together when she realized what they were looking at. The drone had found a group of survivors. So why did Overton seem so disturbed?

When she saw the alien tails of two Sentinels flicking across the dirt, her joy quickly turned to shock. The humans were prisoners, being herded across the lakebed.

The team watched the monitors in helpless silence.

A tiny blue dot flickered on the horizon.

“What’s that?” Emanuel asked. He pointed at the light racing across the skyline toward the clearing.

“One of their drones,” Overton said.

The ship stopped over the lakebed, filling the empty basin with its blue light. It was then Sophie could see the prisoners’ faces. Most of them were children, but there were a few adults among the group. To the south, a pack of Spiders broke through the underbrush and scurried across an old playground. One of them climbed to the top of a slide and shrieked into the night.

The group of humans slowed to a halt. Sounds of terrified, whimpering children filled the CIC. Sophie resisted the urge to cover her ears. Instead, she moved closer to the monitors and watched the Spiders surround the pack of prisoners. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine what the aliens would do with them, but somewhere inside her, she still had hope they could be saved. She had to believe it.

“Is that—” Overton shoved Sophie and Emanuel to the side. “Holy shit! Is that Thompson and Kiel?”

Sophie squinted. Two men in fatigues moved slowly across the field.

“Holy shit,” Overton whispered again. The sight shocked him into motion, and he rushed over to the map of Colorado Springs on a nearby desk, unfolding the edges carefully.

“Thompson? Kiel?” Sophie asked. “Were they part of your team?”

Overton nodded. “Fucking miracle,” he mumbled under his breath. “Alexia, can you get me the coordinates of our drone’s position?”

“Yes, Sergeant Overton. One moment, please.”

A thunderous crash echoed through the room. The spiked tail of a Sentinel suddenly filled the video feed. Spikes swayed past the drone’s forward-facing camera. The creature had knocked the drone on its side, tilting the video angle 180 degrees. Now the team could see the entire lakebed.

There was something else.

Sophie didn’t believe it at first. Blue rods jutted out of the ground, like enormous electrical poles. They reminded her of sharp teeth biting into the sky. From their tops swung large, dark shapes. Sacks?, Sophie thought. But of what? And then immediately she knew: they were people. She turned away, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the image from her memory. But it was too late. The cruciform outlines of bodies suspended on the glowing shafts were tattooed on her mind.

The Organics were farming humans.

Overton’s frantic voice rang out behind Sophie, startling her. “We have to help them!”

Sophie’s eyes snapped open and she turned to see the marine folding one of the maps in two.

“I need to find Bouma. We have to get out there and help those people.”

A wave of anxiety rushed through Sophie as she attempted to compartmentalize what was happening. With bated breath, she moved back to the monitor. One of the bioluminescent Spiders approached the prisoners. With one swift motion it accosted a woman clutching a child to her chest. She screamed as the alien snatched the child from her arms. It scampered away, and vanished over the hill.

“Sophie!” Overton yelled.

For a moment she stood there. How was this possible? How was any of this possible?

“Goddamn—” Overton began to shout.

Spinning, Sophie narrowed her eyebrows, rage swelling inside her. “Sergeant. Will you please stop yelling? You are not helping our current situation.” She watched the marine’s face glow red with anger. His lips quivered and then he continued yelling.

“I don’t give a fuck! My men are still out there; we have to help them!”

Sophie took a step forward, feeling Emanuel’s hand on her shoulder. “You will not leave this Biosphere unless I authorize it. And right now is not the time for a suicide mission!”

Overton regarded her with a cocked brow. “Sophie, I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here. My men. Those marines,” he said, pointing at the display behind her.

“Oh, I completely understand what’s at stake. The entire Biosphere is at stake. And if you leave, you put us all at risk. So again, I’m telling you to cool it and stand down until I’ve figured out what to do.”

Overton grunted and then snorted, storming out of the room.

Emanuel loosened his grip on Sophie’s shoulder and grabbed her wrist. “It’s okay. Just give him some time.”

Sophie nodded, her face flushed and breathing labored. She watched the sergeant vanish into the next hallway and then turned back to the monitors.

The same Spider from before emerged at the top of the hill overlooking the lakebed. Sophie could feel the tears rising in her eyes as the alien, cradling the small child between its claws, climbed up one of the poles and attached it to the top with bioluminescent webbing.

Sophie forced herself to watch, but was relieved when the Sentinel’s tail whipped into the camera once more, blocking the scene from view. The crunching sound of metal filled the room as the alien crushed the robot and cut off the video feed for good.

Dr. Holly Brown looked up from her tablet and caught Corporal Bouma staring at her from the kitchen entrance. He glanced away, his cheeks flaring red with embarrassment. She brushed a strand of blond hair behind her ears and cracked a half-smile.

“What are you doing over there?” she called. “Come sit with us.” She smiled and moved over to make room for him. As she scooted her chair, an odd sensation raced through her body.

Was it her nerves?

No. She could control those.

This was something else—something she’d ignored for a long time.

Desire.

She looked up nervously at the marine strolling across the mess hall. His fatigues were snug against his body, highlighting every bit of his muscular chest and arms.

“Holly! Owen won’t let me have the ball,” Jamie yelled. Holly looked away from the marine and watched Owen and Jamie wrestling on the cafeteria floor. David sat on a bench nearby, his older brother, Jeff, by his side, laughing at the other two.

Seeing them reminded her of the role she played in the Biosphere and how it had changed. At first, she only monitored the team’s mental health, and now, on top of that, she was officially the teacher and babysitter. Not that she minded. With a PhD in psychology, she was exactly what the kids needed. Without her, the children would surely suffer from post-traumatic stress.

“All right, kids, time for the first lesson of the day.” She smiled at Bouma, who took a seat at one of the metal tables. Moans filled the cafeteria as the children dragged themselves over reluctantly.

Bouma laughed. “It’s been a while since I was in school.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this class, but it’s the best we can do for now,” Holly said, turning to the AI interface. “Alexia, let’s start Lesson Three.”

The console glowed to life, and a hologram projected over the table.

“Today we will learn more about early mammals,” Alexia said, her hologram emerging over another console in the corner of the room.

Jeff groaned. “Do I really have to sit through this?”

Holly nodded. “Pay attention.” She watched the image of a saber-toothed cat scroll across the table.

“Historically, it was believed the saber-toothed cat died out from lack of prey. But scientists have unearthed fossil evidence that reveals the true cause of their extinction: climate change,” Alexia narrated.

Holly stared as the cat curled up and wasted away. For a moment, she thought of what an alien narrator might say about the human species someday after unearthing its fossil records. Would they explain how humans had died of the same fate? Would they explain how the Organics had finished what humanity had already started?

She glanced at Bouma. His face was emotionless. He was a marine, after all. The entire reason for his existence was to prevent the same thing from happening to humans that had happened to the saber-toothed cat, to prevent their extinction. But as she studied him—the rifle strapped around his back, the pistol on his hip, and the knife sheathed to his leg—she realized that even brave men like him had little chance of protecting the human race against an invading army like the Organics. Humanity had finally met its match.

CHAPTER 2

EMANUEL swiped his monitor’s touch screen and keyed in several codes. The image of the human farms he’d seen only a few hours before was still burned into his brain, but he shook the image away. He didn’t have time to think about them, not now. Developing a weapon was the only way he could help those people.

Turning from the monitor, he crossed the room and punched a green button on the side of the closest cryo chamber. The lid cracked open, hissing as soft blue light from the bioluminescent remains of the Spiders spread a cool glow over his face. He stared intensely, fascinated by the alien life-form. The Organics’ chemistry was eerily beautiful.

Organics. The name Dr. Hoffman had assigned to the species had been, in Emanuel’s opinion, odd. At least it had seemed so until he had started studying their anatomy. After discovering the true composition of the aliens’ bodies, the name had grown on him.

As a kid he had always wondered what aliens would look like. It wasn’t long before he concluded that they would likely be so vastly different from anything on Earth that even imagining what they looked like was futile. As he got older, their hypothetical appearance was the least interesting part of the equation. He had so many questions. Were they intelligent? What were their bodies made of? Would they communicate telepathically? Would they even communicate at all? He used to wonder if alien life-forms would have a shared conscious; all connected to a central hub, communicating through sonar waves or something similar. But as he examined the creature in front of him, he realized that in some ways, these aliens weren’t that different from species found on Earth. They had a central nervous system, a heart, and a very small brain. They even resembled giant insects.

But there were also significant differences that made the Organics very alien. Preliminary scans of the Spider specimens showed their blood consisted of 80.43 percent H20 and 19.57 percent of a substance similar to plasma. Alexia had concluded the blood had an electrical source, like an internal battery. Emanuel’s job was to figure out what that source was. This was the key to developing a weapon.

The biologist couldn’t help but smile. While the aliens had effectively wiped humans off the top of the food chain, he found their anatomy to be completely fascinating. He wished Sophie would see just how amazing the creatures were.

He dipped into the cryo chamber to retrieve another specimen with a pair of tweezers. Squeezing the metal tips together, he pulled a translucent piece of flesh from the container, watching it disintegrate right in front of his eyes.

“Damn,” he muttered. Without their shields, the Organics’ bodies were very fragile. As the skin broke down and dripped around his tweezers in spaghetti strands, he thought back to the first giant squid he had dissected. The composition of its flesh was similar, and the sea creature survived outside of water just about as long as the Organics.

It made sense. After all, humans would die in seconds on other planets. If you took any animal out of its normal habitat, its body would fail very quickly. With their shields, the aliens had found a way to survive in a hostile environment. Kind of like having a space suit, he thought. An electric space suit.

But what was the power source? And how did it work? If he could find a way to shut it off, then maybe, just maybe, he could design a weapon to destroy them.

He discarded the ruined sample and plucked another specimen from a chunk of spider leg before closing the lid. Even with the chamber cooled by carbon dioxide to minus 60 degrees, the fragile samples were quickly breaking down. It wouldn’t be long before they were useless.

Emanuel worked for hours with his right eye pressed against his microscope, performing various tests with different samples. Each test yielded something new, but the most startling discovery was the composition of the Spiders’ bones. They were made of some sort of metal. At first he believed it was tungsten, but how could that be? The only examples of biological tungsten were in certain bacteria—nothing like what he was seeing under the scope.

They are made up of elements that won’t show up on the periodic table from your high school chemistry class.

Dr. Hoffman’s words replayed themselves in Emanuel’s head. It wasn’t surprising that an alien life-form would be made up of foreign elements. Ever since scientists had discovered bacteria that fed off the ocean vents, there had been a growing belief in the scientific community that alien life could survive in habitats previously thought to be unsurvivably hostile.

After performing more tests, he realized the metal was an element unlike any he had ever seen. Its density was about the same as tungsten’s, but its melting point was much lower, at only 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

Does the metallic element conduct electricity to power their shields? If so, then what’s the damned source? Emanuel wondered. He was frustrated. Understanding the aliens’ defense system was the key to developing a weapon. He knew the magnetic disturbance outside had something to do with it, but connecting the dots was like putting together a puzzle without all the pieces.

He shook his head, his mind drifting from one idea to the next. With an audible huff, he pressed his eye against the microscope and squinted. Twisting the dial with his right hand, he magnified the specimen several more levels. The sudden thrill of excitement that only a new discovery could generate rushed through him. He was staring at something new—something that didn’t seem to belong.

Could it be?

He manipulated the sample until one of the peppercorn-like clusters came into focus. He leaned back, rubbed his eyes, and then looked back into the scope.

“Alexia, are you seeing this?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He straightened his back, wondering if he should inform Sophie of the discovery. Not yet, he thought. He needed to know more first.

Transferring the image to the closest screen, he swiveled the display to face him. He ran a hand through his neatly groomed hair and laughed. For weeks he had been looking for the source of the creatures’ defenses, and it had been right in front of him the entire time. It was just too small to see without an electron microscope.

“It’s nanotechnology. Nanobots, if you want to be specific,” he said. “How the hell did we miss this, Alexia?”

“With all due respect, Doctor, there was simply no evidence of nanotechnology in the preliminary samples,” Alexia replied politely.

He waved his hands. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just glad we finally know.”

“Sir?” Alexia asked.

“The source,” Emanuel replied quickly. “The electrical source for their blood. These bots must be electrically charged, and the Organics’ bones conduct the current.” He suddenly paused and pursed his lips, realizing he still didn’t know the third piece to the puzzle.

“But what charges the bots?” he asked aloud.

Alexia’s image transferred to the AI console next to Emanuel. Her face solidified into a translucent blue. Blinking, she said, “The magnetic disturbance, Doctor. I believe it’s the source of everything.”

“That had occurred to me, but I don’t understand how it’s possible.”

“With all due respect, Doctor, two months ago you probably didn’t think floating blue orbs were possible either.”

Emanuel chuckled and looked up at the wall camera. “Since when did you develop a sense of humor?”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Doctor.”

“I was joking,” he replied. Then he snapped his gloves off, placed the sample under one of Alexia’s interface scanners, and said, “Please conduct a full scan of this specimen. I want any data loaded to my tablet as soon as possible.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To grab some coffee,” he replied on his way out of the room.

Alexia’s voice transferred to the com closest to the door. “Wait,” she said.

He turned, wondering what her scans could have found so quickly.

“Doctor Rodriguez,” she said. “Sir, do you realize you have discovered a new element?”

Emanuel smiled broadly. “Indeed I do, Alexia.”

“Traditionally, the scientist who makes the discovery is tasked with creating a name. Have you thought of one yet?”

He paused for a second, considering his options. “I think I’ll call it humanitarium,” he said with a chuckle before heading to the kitchen. “Humanity needs something to call our own.”

By the time Emanuel reached the coffee dispenser, data from the scan was crawling across his tablet. Looking down, he read the first line and almost dropped his cup.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“Remarkable, isn’t it, Doctor Rodriguez?”

“How?” He felt paralyzed with questions, unsure what to ask first.

“Even though the Organic entity is technically dead, the nanobots inside the bloodstream are still emitting very small traces of electricity. They are much weaker now, and are not able to power the creature’s defenses. But they seem to be searching for something, moving through the bloodstream as if they are trying to connect.”

“Connect to what?”

“To the magnetic disturbance, Doctor.”

“That’s impossible . . .” Emanuel began. With a flick of his index finger, he sent the image to the wall monitor. He stared at the screen intensely, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. A theory was developing in his mind. It would more than likely require a field test, and as much as he hated the idea of running it by Sophie without knowing if it would work, he also knew they were running out of time. The Organics were farming humans—survivors that had lived through the invasion. And he was going to find a way to save them.

ENTRY 1890

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

Since its collision with the Sentinel’s tail, the video feed from the robot I sent into the field has been fading in and out. While I wait for the feed to clear, I pull up video the drone relayed before the feed was lost. The drone has confirmed the presence of three different alien species. Video 1 shows a dozen of the arachnid-like creatures hunting a deer on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. The animal is severely dehydrated and unable to outrun the creatures.

After a brief struggle, the Spiders overwhelm it and wrap it in a glowing blue web. Moments later the web pulsates and a blue field surrounds the animal. What happens next is fascinating. The orb fills with liquid, and the carcass inside begins to break down. The time lapse indicates the entire process takes about six hours, at which point one of the harvester Worms slithers through the forest, inhales the orb, and emits a ray of blue mist into the sky.

Another feed shows a pair of Sentinels standing guard over a parking lot full of blue orbs. The Sentinels remain frozen, watching over the field with their reptilian eyes.

The feed from the robot’s camera finally clears, and the image of another parking lot emerges in real time.

If I had been programmed to believe in luck, I would attribute the drone’s survival to it. But luck is a human term, a word made up to illustrate situations where someone or something defies the odds.

Statistically, the drone has already beaten the odds. It has been in the field for a week, and the data it has relayed has taught the team much about the Organics. After studying the creatures for several weeks, I have come to the same conclusions as Dr. Rodriguez. They seem to exhibit behavior similar to that of insects. They work together toward the common goal of finding and processing water. However, the Spiders, Sentinels, and Worms are clearly not creatures capable of interstellar travel. These three species appear to be the workers. Something much more sophisticated must be relaying orders from the safety of spaceships high above, in Earth’s orbit.

I reset the robot’s control system. Then I relay a set of coordinates to the drone’s GPS. The wheels automatically obey, and in less than a second the machine is moving across the parking lot, silently zipping across the blacktop toward a pile of what looks like miniature versions of the deadly orbs. They appear to be eggs of some kind. The drone eases to a stop near one of the eggs to take a sample. It’s a job that requires precision: Cut too deep, and the outer layer is compromised. The robot gently removes a small fragment of the egg’s skin. Then the tiny metal claw retracts and places the specimen into a container in its cargo hold. If I had to use a human term, I would say I am satisfied with the results. The drone has performed its function, and I, in monitoring it, have performed mine.

Drone is perhaps too generous a term for the machine. Engineers would call it a retrofitted maintenance robot, fully equipped with solar panels and rigged with additional cameras to ensure that it collects as much data as possible. Ideally, it would also be able to monitor radiation and carbon dioxide levels as well, but the video feed and sample collection capability are still informative.

A sensor goes off in the medical ward, and I pull up the feed to Camera 14. Dr. Rodriguez is still studying the new element he has discovered and has pinged me for assistance.

“How may I help you, Dr. Rodriguez?”

“Alexia, I’d like you to take a look at this when you have a moment,” Dr. Rodriguez says, without looking up from his microscope. I pull up the data on my display so that I can see what he sees. The information is . . . unexpected. He has made a startling discovery.

“Doctor Rodriguez, I see you have found a way to reverse the effects of the Organics’ defenses.”

Emanuel looks up at my camera sternly. “I think it’s time for another meeting.”

CHAPTER 3

SOPHIE had a good view of the mess hall from the hallway. It was odd seeing the empty seats where, only weeks before, her fallen teammates Timothy and Saafi had sat experimenting with their tablets. Next to the vacant chairs was a bench full of children—the last thing she would have expected to see at the beginning of their mission, before the world ended. With the loss of marine Eric Finley, there were now almost as many kids as adults.

Overton and Bouma spoke at the adjacent table. They both wore worried looks, their faces cold as stone. It had taken the sergeant a while to calm down after seeing his men in the video, but since their argument, he hadn’t pushed the issue further. Perhaps shutting him down back in the CIC was the right thing to do after all.

The sound of laughter distracted Sophie from the marines’ serious conversation. Nearby, Holly entertained the children with a cartoon on her tablet. The sound of laughing kids filled the room, and Sophie remembered that there was still much to be thankful for.

Behind her a chipper male voice echoed down the hallway. “Hope you have some good news.”

“I hope you do too,” she replied, turning to see that Emanuel had snuck up on her. “We definitely need it.” His face was animated, more so than normal. It could only mean one thing—he’d made a discovery.

“Found something, didn’t you?”

He showed off his dimples with a wide smile and said, “Maybe.”

As they approached the group, Sophie watched Overton stiffen.

Sophie summoned her business face. Clearing her throat, she said, “Listen up, everyone. There are quite a few things we need to discuss.” Taking a deliberately slow breath, she swiped her tablet and pulled up a set of notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Owen’s curious gaze. For a moment she wondered what the little boy was thinking, and whether he even knew what was going on outside. He’d lost both of his parents at such a young age.

Images of the human farms instantly popped into her mind. She didn’t want the kids to know about them. Not if they didn’t have to. “Jeff, would you do me a favor? Will you take David, Owen, and Jamie to the garden biome? I want them to see how pretty it looks with the growing plants.”

The boy rolled his eyes but paced over to Holly’s table and took the younger children by the hand, leading them out of the mess hall and down into the personnel quarters.

Sophie watched them vanish around the corner before motioning for Emanuel to take a seat with a short nod. “While they’re out of the room, I’ll start with the human farms. By now you’ve all seen or heard about them. We know they exist. We know there are other survivors.” She paused and looked around the room at each member of her team. “I also know, Sergeant, that you want to attempt a rescue mission.”

Overton sat up in his chair, poised like a snake, his fingers massaging the handle of his .45. But he didn’t reply. Sophie knew he was waiting for his opportunity to strike. She wasn’t going to let him.

“This was a very hard decision to make, but I’m not authorizing any rescue operation. We’ve gone down that road before, and each time we’ve lost good people—Saafi, Timothy, Finley. I’m not losing anyone else. We’re safe inside, and until we have some way to fight back, some sort of weapon, I’m not going to put any more of my people at risk.”

“Your people?” Overton burst out of his chair, his voice growing louder. “Your people? That’s bullshit. What about my people? What about the people that are dying out there on our watch?”

Sophie flinched. She felt a flurry of anger rise up in her throat. How dare he question her motives? Everything she had done, she had done for the Biosphere. For her team. She slammed a fist on the counter, silencing him. “Yes, Sergeant. My people. This is my Biosphere, and until further notice you are to sit down and take my orders!”

Some mixture of shock and latent respect for the chain of command silenced Overton. He sat glaring at her, his face glowing red. Bouma crossed his arms, a look of shock plastered across his features. The tension in the room was palpable, but she had to keep going.

“Now, as I said earlier: We need some sort of weapon. Emanuel has already been hard at work on this project for the past couple of weeks. And unless anyone has any further outbursts, he’s going to give us an update.” Sophie turned to Emanuel and forced a smile. “You’re up.”

The biologist ran a nervous hand through his hair before pushing his glasses farther up onto his nose. It was apparent he didn’t want to be part of the growing power struggle between her and Overton.

Clenching his teeth, Emanuel said, “Alexia, please bring up specimen ninety-four X.”

A three-dimensional image shot out of the console nearest the team and rotated slowly in front of them.

Bouma scowled. “What the hell is that?”

“That, sir, is one of the most important discoveries in the history of modern science,” Emanuel said with a confident smile. “Alexia, enhance image.”

He took a step away from the hologram and waited for it to enlarge. “These are the remains of one of the Organics’ bones. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much left after you decided to unload a magazine into them a few weeks ago,” Emanuel said.

Bouma shrugged. “What did you want me to do, let them kill everyone?”

“As I was saying,” Emanuel continued, “the creature is made up of many of the same elements we see in the anatomy of animals here on Earth. There is one big difference: their bones. Their bones are made up of a new element that is very similar to tungsten.”

“Isn’t that a metal?” Holly asked.

“Yes, a very dense metal.”

“Can you get to the point already?” Overton griped. “You forget we aren’t scientists. Ever heard of speaking in layman’s terms?”

Sophie watched Emanuel pause. She knew it upset him that no one appreciated the science behind his discoveries, besides her.

Sighing, Emanuel continued. “Like all metals, this new element—which I’ve decided to call humanitarium—conducts electricity. But the electrical source, well that’s a bit more complicated,” he said, gesturing toward the AI console. “Alexia, bring up the image of the nanobot.”

A few moments later the peppercorn-shaped hologram emerged. Emanuel smiled confidently. “Billions of these nanobots carry a small electrical charge through the Organics’ systems. The charge is conducted through the aliens’ bones, effectively creating a force field,” he said. “As you know, without their shields, the aliens are actually very fragile. In fact, the creatures can’t survive at all without them.”

Bouma instantly raised a hand in protest. “No, that doesn’t make sense. I’ve knocked their defenses out with electromagnetic grenades, and they keep coming.”

“You didn’t knock out their defenses entirely,” Emanuel said. “You see, the nanobots act kind of like little batteries—so even with your grenades, their shields still functioned, but at a lower level. When their shields are low, the aliens are susceptible to human weapons. If you remove their shields entirely, they succumb to our atmosphere.”

“So you are saying we need to find a way to knock out their shields altogether?” Holly asked.

Bouma smacked his palm on the table. “Like a massive electromagnetic pulse grenade?”

“Precisely,” Emanuel replied. “But there is a catch. Alexia thinks the electromagnetic disturbance is the source that actually powers the nanobots, essentially recharging them.”

“I’m impressed, really,” Sophie said. “The discovery of humanitarium, the nanobots, and the source could be a game changer. But this is all academic. We need something practical. We need a weapon now.”

The image of the nanobot disappeared and Alexia’s face appeared over the console. “I would like to answer that, Doctor Winston.”

Sophie nodded her approval and sat down to listen to the AI.

“I’ve been studying the disturbance outside ever since we sent the drone into the field. Without an EMP simulator or a similar device, it has been difficult to learn much about it, but the drone was able to detect and determine that the wavelength the Organics used to knock out our communications is constant,” she said. “As you may know, an EMP is typically a one-time event; once it is set off, the damage is done quite quickly. This is something entirely different. Take a look.”

Her hologram transformed into a solid blue ninety-degree angle. A sudden pulse burst across the graphic, curving and making a steep climb until it suddenly flatlined.

Emanuel pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “So this is worldwide?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“And it hasn’t changed since day one of the invasion?” Sophie asked.

“That is correct,” Alexia replied over the com. “As you can see, the wavelength has a defined lead point. It built up rapidly and then evened out, but it did not dissipate, as you would expect with a human-generated EMP.”

“It’s like one big surge,” Bouma said under his breath.

“Let’s cut the crap. How do you shut this surge off?” Overton asked, placing a dirty boot on one of the middle tables. He glanced defiantly at Sophie, who met his gaze. Neither looked away.

“That is a good question,” Emanuel said, breaking the tension.

Alexia’s voice sounded distant. “My apologies, but I’m unable to determine the source of the surge.”

“So it could be coming from the Statue of Liberty, or from the moon for all we know,” Overton replied.

“It would make more sense if it were coming from the Earth’s orbit,” Alexia replied.

Sophie felt her lips moving, but she couldn’t form the words. She knew the source was likely Mars. After all, she’d found that the magnetic disturbance that caused the solar storms of 2055 originated on the Red Planet. But the government had never released that information. It was classified, and NTC had threatened her career in order to keep her quiet. Folding her hands, Sophie kept her lips sealed. She didn’t want another reason to piss Overton off.

“If we don’t know the source, how can we shut it off?” Bouma asked.

“Maybe we won’t have to,” Sophie replied. “The electromagnetic grenades knock out the Spiders’ shields almost completely, right?” Sophie asked.

“Yes,” Bouma said.

“So, we just need something more powerful. To reverse the surge and use it against them,” Sophie said.

Overton reached for a cigarette, but his hands came back empty. “Shit,” he muttered. Looking back at Sophie he said, “I know where you’re going with this. There are large-scale EMPs like the one used on China years ago. But nothing I know that has ever been used on a worldwide level. But . . .”

“Go on,” Sophie said, cautiously.

“Setting off several strategically placed, high-capacity EMPs at fifty thousand feet would probably do the trick. We would just have to find a way into a military installation with high-yield EMPs and reconfigure them, then find a way to deliver the payloads into the atmosphere.”

“Impossible,” Bouma said.

Jeff suddenly burst out of the hallway. “My dad said nothing was impossible. We have to at least try.” With a huff, he leaned against the doorframe.

Sophie looked over at the boy. He was thin, with a strong jaw, thick black hair, and bushy brown eyebrows. He was probably the spitting image of what Emanuel had looked like at nine years old.

“Your dad was right, Jeff, but that was in the old world,” Holly said, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit down, sweetheart.”

Jeff didn’t move. His eyes darted from her to Overton. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you guys. But there are people outside that need help. Sitting around and talking about how impossible things are isn’t helping them!”

A surge of anxiety rushed through Sophie as Overton stood. She knew exactly what was coming and braced herself.

“The kid’s right. We can’t just sit here and let survivors waste away.” Overton paused, cocking a brow, the scar on his cheek stretching. For a minute he looked like a crazed old man. Locking eyes with Sophie, he said, “Should I have left you, Emanuel, and Saafi to die outside? Should I have let that alien drone take you?”

Sophie cringed. The marine was a skilled killer, but he was also skilled at manipulation, and knew exactly where to strike. But she hadn’t built a career by letting others push her around.

“I seem to remember saving your ass back at Denver International. Remember that Sentinel I dropped?” Sophie shot back. “Besides, the situation isn’t the same. Those people are heavily guarded.”

Overton snorted his response, wiping a sleeve across his face.

“That’s why we need to develop a weapon,” Emanuel said. He turned to Sophie. “I’m getting close. I just need more time. I’m modifying the RVM so it can knock out the Organics’ defenses on a larger scale than our electromagnetic grenades.”

“Can you at least wait until then?” Sophie asked Overton. She turned to see Overton jerk his chin toward the exit. Bouma followed him across the room and they vanished into the hallway. Sophie closed her eyes and counted to five. The sergeant was really beginning to test her patience.

CHAPTER 4

THE brilliant tail of a shooting star filled Alex’s HUD before it faded into the night sky. He doubled over, desperately trying to catch his breath. Slowly the floating stars before his eyes cleared, and the dizziness faded. He’d been on the run for several hours, just narrowly evading hundreds of thirsty Spiders.

He was deep in the desert now, lost in the endless sea of sand and guided only by the full moon above. His legs ached, his muscles groaning in protest with every step. He’d felt like this for days now. There was no reprieve. No safety. No salvation. And he couldn’t keep willing himself on. His body was nearing its breaking point. In hours, maybe minutes, he would collapse from exhaustion and dehydration.

Fortunately, Alex was no stranger to physical pain or fatigue. He never would have thought college football had taught him lessons about surviving the apocalypse, but then again, he’d never believed in aliens before, either.

Those grueling practices had given him more than physical stamina—they had given him the mental fortitude he needed to survive in the heat with little nutrition. He could remember the practices like they were yesterday: his face baking inside his helmet, the spike of pain when he would get speared attempting to catch a ball too close to a defender and, most of all, the thirst on those one hundred degree days. There was nothing like the lust for water . . .

Another shooting star raced across his HUD. He turned to watch it disappear into the sky, eager to give his mind a break from his own thoughts.

Alex glanced at his mission clock, shocked to see it was 3:42 A.M.

Had he really been traveling for over eight hours?

He collapsed onto a nearby boulder, his body rebelling against the thought of one more step. With a click, he unfastened his helmet and lifted it just far enough so he could take a tiny sip from what was left of the water in his canteen.

Swishing the water around in his mouth, he savored it, letting it slide down his throat instead of forcing it down with a gulp. He desperately wanted more, but instead, he capped the canteen and reached for his two-way radio.

At a swipe of his finger, the display glowed to life, and the same flat wavelength he had seen for the past week raced across the screen.

“Please work,” Alex whispered.

He checked the channel one more time.

Nothing.

Jumping to his feet, he reattached the radio to its clip and prepared to continue his journey through the sand. He knew he couldn’t sleep until he found shelter. It wasn’t safe out here, where he was exposed like a cadaver on an autopsy table.

Traveling was just as dangerous by night as it was by day. The only slight difference between the two was the ways he could die. The desert was a treacherous place in the dark. Even with his night vision, he had only narrowly missed falling into sand traps. One wrong step would send him to the bottom of a hole lined with jagged rocks and sharp tree branches.

There were also the dust storms that could emerge at a moment’s notice. At least during the day he could see them coming. Several nights he had been startled awake by the nightmarish roar of the storms barreling down on him. These amazing feats of Mother Nature frightened him almost as badly as the aliens hunting him. He had seen images of men caught out in the open during one of the harrowing events; their clothes and flesh torn away like meat.

He listened to the calm whistling of the wind in the distance. Tonight, he was lucky—a radiant moon guided him around the sand traps and away from the Organics. He didn’t have to rely on his annoying night vision.

Hours later, Alex climbed out of the valley and stood on a sand dune overlooking the ocean. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the faint sound of a drone hunting for contacts. The hum of the alien technology was unmistakable, even from afar.

He scanned the sky for signs of the ship, but it was already miles away. He caught a glimpse of blue on the horizon just as the tiny craft disappeared into the night.

Another small victory, another lucky break.

Yes, he could call it that. Today he had dodged death more than once.

His eyes returned to the ocean, where he could make out the broken hulls of boats protruding from the sand. Had the beach receded even farther in only a few days’ time?

There was no way to be sure. With the drone out of sight, he plopped onto the soft sand to check his two-way radio again.

His heart thumped in his chest as he pulled the radio from the clip on his back. The screen glowed to life, forming an orange halo of light around his helmet. He cupped his hand over the top of the radio to cut down on the glow.

Make yourself a target, Alex. Nice move, he thought. A horizontal line raced across the display—the same one he had been staring at for days. Like a flatlining EKG, he was as good as dead.

“Shit!” he yelled, anger suddenly taking hold. He tossed the useless radio down the side of the dune. The device sailed through the air and clattered off the top of a boulder. He watched it land on the ground below, the orange light vanishing as a blast of wind covered it with sand.

At first he didn’t even get up. Why should he? The radio was trash. Nothing but added weight on his belt.

He flinched when the sound of another drone broke through the night. This one was louder, closer. He jumped to his feet and scanned the skyline. Sure enough another drone raced across the black sky.

Shocked into motion, he stumbled down the slope, the added adrenaline giving him a boost of energy he hadn’t known he had left in him. An overwhelming fear penetrated his thoughts.

He ran like a man possessed, sand exploding behind him as he moved as fast as his exhausted body would allow. Halfway to the bottom of the dune, his foot snagged on a buried root, which snapped under his weight, ripping clean out of the sand and throwing him off balance.

“No, no, no!” he yelled, trying to regain his balance. It was too late. He tripped, and the world went topsy-turvy. His visor hit the sand first, and he slid several feet before hitting the bottom of the dune with a thud.

Alex knew sand was much like water. It appeared soft, but land on it with enough force and there wasn’t much difference between that and hitting concrete.

The sound of his right wrist snapping echoed in his helmet before he felt the pain. He bit back a cry as he lay on his back and watched the drone approaching in the sky. The blue light swept over the area around him, searching, searching.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good. After a moment the alien rover moved on, its blue eye darting from dune to dune.

Realizing he was holding his breath, Alex let out a huff. The explosion of air fogged his visor momentarily. When it cleared, he fumbled to his feet, holding his injured arm to his chest. He scanned the landscape for a place to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere. Nothing but miles of beach filled his HUD.

And then he saw it.

A boat.

He was running before he consciously made the decision to move. Although his body instinctively acted to survive, deep down he knew it was only a matter of time before he was captured or killed. It was a miracle he had evaded the aliens this long. One of the soldiers in the Biosphere, a stone-faced man named Blake Will, had told him that the aliens had a way of scanning for water. It was a wonder they hadn’t slurped Alex up like a cocktail yet.

The thought sent a tremor down his entire body, motivating him to run even faster, to push just a bit harder. His muscles ached, but he didn’t dare risk slowing down to look behind him. His eyes remained focused on the boat.

The moist sand made him feel like he was running through Silly Putty.

A hysterical laugh escaped his lips. Was any of this even real? Six months ago, he had been teaching a high school science class over a thousand miles away. Now he was trying to hide from an alien drone that wanted the water inside him.

Everyone he had ever known was probably dead. His ex-wife, his parents. All of his friends. His sister, Maria.

Everyone.

Alex suddenly felt very tired. Out of everyone he had lost, it was Maria he was going to miss the most. They had been best friends since they were kids, and even when she had moved halfway across the country, they had still managed to find time to talk every day, by e-mail if not by video chat. He hadn’t even been able to say good-bye before getting sealed in the Biosphere.

In a split second, his muscles locked up, his feet dug into the sand. His body had finally accepted what his mind had known for days—there was no reason to continue.

The thought of his sister trapped in one of those terrible blue orbs, of her body being mummified by the Spiders, was too much. It was all just too fucking much.

As he lay down on the sand, he listened to the thunderous beating of his heart. There were other sounds, too: the sound of the alien drone zipping across the sky, the sapphire waves crashing against the receding shoreline, and something else. A chirping noise. A bird? No, he hadn’t seen one for days.

This noise was mechanical. And it was coming from a few feet away.

Rolling onto his stomach, he reached for the source of the sound, digging through the sand. Seconds later, his fingers uncovered his radio. It took him several more precious moments to realize the jagged wavelength pulsing across the display was real. There was someone else out there.

Alex quickly cradled the radio close to him and swiped the screen with his uninjured hand.

“This is Doctor Emanuel Rodriguez with the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere. Does anyone copy? Over.”

Was he hallucinating?

Alex looked down at his radio and saw the frequency wavelength rise to a peak and then fade away. He could see the drone racing its way through his peripheral vision, but he didn’t turn. He kept his eyes locked on the radio.

“I repeat, does anyone copy? Over.”

Alex fumbled with the device, slapping it on its side. “This is Alex Wagner. I’m the sole survivor of the Biosphere at Edwards Air Force Base. I’ve been on the run for several days, and I have no idea where the hell I am. I’m being hunted by those things.”

He didn’t care if his voice drew the drone to his location. If he was going to die, he at least wanted someone else to know what had happened to him. He needed to know that someone else had survived. That he wasn’t the last person alive on the planet.

“We heard your message weeks ago, Mr. Wagner. And it’s damned good to know you’re still alive.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t be alive long if I don’t get the hell out of here. Those things are hunting me.”

“Can you tell us your coordinates? We’re a long way from Edwards, but if you sit tight, maybe we can find a way to help you.”

Alex almost laughed as he scanned the beach. Tell them his coordinates? He had no idea where the hell he was. All he knew was that he was on a beach somewhere in California. He doubted that was what the doctor wanted to know.

“Alex, are you still there?”

“Yeah, man, but I don’t know where the hell I am.”

“Just stay calm. We need you to stay alive. We are developing a weapon here. A weapon that can change the course of this war.”

Alex closed his eyes and tried to think. How far had he traveled since escaping the base? What direction had he walked in? The whipping wind and the approaching alien ship made it hard to think. But the ambient sound of the crashing waves was so beautiful, so peaceful. For weeks he had been searching desperately for water. Now a seemingly endless supply was in front of him.

He sat there watching the waves crash against the hull of the boat, and then it hit him.

They have a way of scanning for water.

Blake’s words replayed in Alex’s mind. If the drone was homing in on him because of the water inside his body, then he should be able to evade the craft in the ocean. It should camouflage him long enough to get away.

Dr. Rodriguez repeated his message.

The distant hum of the drone grew closer. Alex’s heart thumped inside his chest. “I’m being fucking hunted! I can’t just sit tight! Hold on,” Alex replied, clipping the radio to his belt.

He could hear Emanuel’s worried voice crackle with protest over the channel as he raced toward the water. The outline of the waves grew larger with every step. He was almost there.

And then the craft was hovering over him, the bright beam from the ship’s underbelly scanning the beach.

He pushed on, his knees creaking and his calves tightening.

He high-jumped over the smaller waves until he was knee-deep in the ocean. In one final thrust, he dove into a monstrous wave and disappeared into the water. Pain from his broken right wrist raced down his arm as he clawed his way through the water.

After he cleared the first wave, he began to front crawl. With every stroke, he could feel the warm salt water trickle into his suit through the tear in its sleeve.

Fuck.

Anxiety paralyzed him as he realized how screwed he really was. This far out, the ocean floor had dropped away from him like a steep, underwater cliff. If he slipped beneath the surface, his suit would fill and he would drown. If he kept his arm above the waves, then the ship would surely capture him.

Neither was a particularly appealing option.

Another wave crashed against his body, sending him tumbling under the water. He screamed in anger, the desperate sound of his own panicked voice filling his helmet.

Reaching down, he tried to cover the gash with his other hand, but it was no use. The water flooded into his armor.

He was going to drown.

He slipped deeper beneath the surface as the torrential current and his water-laden armor pulled him farther down into the abyss. Pawing the water frantically, he kicked toward the surface with every ounce of energy he had left. Dying wasn’t easy. It actually required a lot of work. Or maybe he was just really lucky. Either way, he knew what he needed to do if he wanted to live—he had to shed the armor.

Before the next wave hit, he hunched over to take off his boots. The rest of the suit had to be removed by unfastening several metal clasps. The damned thing was difficult enough to take off on land. It was going to be next to impossible in the water.

But he had to try.

He reached for the neck clasp first. It opened with little resistance and he felt the armor covering his back and chest pop open. Another wave sent him spinning before he had a chance to remove it. By the time his body stopped rotating, he was too dizzy to move.

The taste of salt water spurred him back into motion. He reached for the two clasps on his belt. The one on the right clicked open, but the left wouldn’t budge.

Alex sucked in another deep breath, immediately choking on the water as it continued to fill his helmet.

Get it together!

Alex calmed his breathing. He spit the salt water out of his mouth and reached back down to the other clasp on his belt. This time, it popped open. He grabbed the radio and then kicked out of the bottom half of his armor.

With his body free of its metal prison, he let the current take him again. He had bought himself minutes, just enough time to regain some strength.

When the water in his helmet reached his mouth he closed his eyes and took one last breath through his nostrils before unfastening it and ducking beneath the surface.

And then there was only darkness.

He could feel his body spinning but had no idea in which direction. Ten seconds passed. He could still feel his legs—they were on fire, every inch of muscle burning.

Another couple seconds passed. So did the agonizing pain.

After thirty seconds his eyes snapped open, the salt water burning them immediately. Something had changed.

The beam was gone.

So was the drone.

The irony was not lost on him. He had been camouflaged by the very resource the aliens had come for. In the end, water was what protected him from the alien ship.

He kicked violently upward. Just when his lungs felt like they were going to burst, his head exploded through the surface. Above him, the stars dazzled like a field of orbs, sparkling in the darkness. Somewhere out there was the aliens’ home world.

The current was getting stronger, pulling him farther out to sea. He watched, too tired to swim back against it, as the shoreline diminished until it was just a thin ribbon of yellow sand in the distance. He had been fighting for so long—to escape the Biosphere, to escape the Spiders, to find water. And for what? Everyone he had ever cared about was dead. He didn’t know this Dr. Rodriguez. For all he knew, the man would soon be dead, too.

The water felt cool and warm around him as the waves lapped against his bare skin. Time slowed to a crawl. Maybe he would just float here for a while until the water took him. Float and maybe sleep. He was so tired. It wasn’t such a bad way to go out; his vision slowly fading to darkness, his body simply giving up, his lungs filling with salt water—certainly better than being torn apart by the aliens or turned into an orb. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, he thought. Much better than being turned into an orb.

He was going to join Maria in a place where the monsters couldn’t get him anymore.

CHAPTER 5

SOPHIE splashed water on her face. The liquid immediately cooled her flushed cheeks. She hardly recognized the face in the mirror: a pair of brown eyes sunken and framed with more wrinkles than she ever remembered having. And the worst part? She reached for a long gray hair protruding from her dirty-blond ponytail. She yanked it from her scalp and dropped it into the sink. The hair swirled several times around the drain, as if it knew what awaited it below. Sophie empathized. She knew better than anyone—well, anyone besides Alexia—how bad the odds were, and what horrors awaited the survivors outside.

She thought again of the Spider cradling that young boy as it climbed the pole and attached the helpless child to the alien structure. It made her stomach lurch, and she rushed over to the toilet to hurl up the remnants of her dinner. Coughing, she pushed herself away from the toilet seat and back to the sink. Her bloodshot eyes stared back at her from the mirror.

How had it come to this?

Wiping her mouth, she stepped into the hallway and made her way to her room. Collapsing on her bed, she allowed herself a moment to sob into the pillow. The sound of footfalls rang in the hallway outside her room. Please go away, she thought, I just want to be alone.

“Sophie?” Emanuel said from the open doorway.

With a deep breath she sat up and shielded her eyes with her left sleeve, holding out her right hand like a stop sign. “I’m fine, Emanuel. Really. I’m fine.”

Emanuel ignored her lie and rushed to her side. “Sophie,” he said, grabbing her hand. He inched closer, putting his other hand on her back and gently massaging the knotted muscles there. “You can’t keep all this pent up inside. It doesn’t do any good. What we’ve seen can’t be unseen. The best we can do is share the burden. Be there for each other. Without that, what do we have?”

The question lingered in the air. Sophie knew he was right; she needed to confide in him now more than ever. She had isolated herself from the group over the past few days. She couldn’t let that continue; she had to be a leader.

“Maybe Sergeant Overton’s right,” she said. “Maybe we should try and help the survivors now. Take a chance. We’ve done it before.”

He shook his head. “No. Give me a chance to build us a weapon that works. I’m so close, Sophie. Now that I’ve discovered the source of their defenses . . . ” His face filled with excitement.

Sophie laughed, snorting and sniffling in the same moment, a sound that only made her laugh harder. They both chuckled together, and she rested her head against his shoulder, turning away so he couldn’t see her red, puffy eyes. His fingers twined with hers, and a tingle warmed her numb body.

“It’s okay,” Emanuel whispered in her ear. “You made the right choice.”

Sophie nodded, leaning into his grasp. She wanted to feel safe in his arms. But deep down, she knew things would not be okay—deep down, she was losing hope.

In his quarters, Overton slowly slid a sharp razor over the stubble on his jaw.

It was tradition.

Before he went to war, he shaved. There was something about going into battle with a freshly shaved face and head that made the killing feel more civilized. It was cleaner.

Over the years, he had killed countless men. It had never really disturbed him. Even his first registered kill in San Juan hadn’t bothered him that much. From the beginning of his long career, he had been a recruiter’s dream, the type of man who didn’t need convincing to sign on the dotted line. The type of man the government didn’t need to invest millions of dollars brainwashing.

He was the perfect marine: never questioning orders, never wavering, and, best of all, always following through, even when things got tough. His commitment to the military was also what made him a lousy husband and father.

“Shit!” he hissed as the blade nicked his jaw. A trail of bright red blood began flowing down his chin. He wiped it away with a towel and put pressure on the nick with a finger while continuing to shave with his other hand.

Adrenaline swirled in his bloodstream. He wasn’t sure if it was from the sting of the cut or the thought of saving Thompson and Kiel. Two members of his squad had survived the initial attack after all. And he would be damned if he let them die now, no matter what Sophie had to say.

With one final, swift stroke of the blade he stared into the mirror at his clean face. He was ready again for war.

ENTRY 1891

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

There is no program in my system that can accurately describe what I have observed over the past five weeks. In fact, there may not be an algorithm designed that could explain what has occurred beyond the Biosphere doors. And no matter what program I run, I cannot seem to find a way to explain the fact that Dr. Winston and her team are still alive.

A human might say this is a miracle. I acknowledge that anomalies are inevitable. Isaac Asimov once said, “The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.” As I continue to . . . feel, I suppose is the only proper word for it, I wonder if it is possible that there is more to the team’s survival than what my programs are telling me.

Whatever the case, the results should be fascinating. Whether they live or die, the data will be more important than the Biosphere mission ever would have been. The results will indicate how humans survive in a worldwide post-apocalyptic scenario. The psychological implications will be invaluable, although there may be no human left to analyze the data.

I return to the images the maintenance drone transmitted before being crushed. This information will be vital in explaining how the Organics operate. The aliens have continued to surprise us. The latest video from the human farms depicts an organized and efficient species.

Early-twenty-first-century scientist Stephen Hawking imagined that an alien race might live on massive ships, having used up all the resources from its home planet. He said that such advanced aliens would perhaps become nomads, looking to conquer and colonize whatever planets they could reach.

He was almost right.

Initially, all evidence pointed at an invasion that would leave the Earth devoid of all water. But this latest video demonstrates where Hawking was wrong; it shows the aliens are not merely jumping from world to world. They are much more efficient than that. Instead, they have found a way to sustain the resource they came for by using the biological life-forms they encounter.

It is logical. Farming humans is a way to keep their armies fed while the ships drain the oceans from orbit. However, while fascinating, this development has caused morale among team members to drop substantially.

I believe Sergeant Overton intends to leave the Biosphere to attempt a rescue mission against Dr. Winston’s orders. I’m not certain how Corporal Bouma feels about this, but I presume he will follow whatever orders are given to him.

Overton has a 9.325 percent chance of success.

I wonder if the percentage of success would increase if he waited for Emanuel to finish his weapon. Dr. Rodriguez has already made great progress on modifying the RVM, and he’s calling it the reverse magnetic automatic pulse, or RVAMP.

The alarm from a motion detector outside the blast doors chirps. I pull up Camera 1 to see Sergeant Overton smoking a cigarette on the tarmac outside. His pulse rifle rests against one of the open blast doors.

This is not the first time he has broken protocol. The Biosphere has been infected multiple times by outside toxins from the sergeant’s habit. If it were not for the homemade cocktail of chemicals Dr. Rodriguez has been able to create, the garden biome would be in ruins.

I can predict—and perhaps even understand—Sergeant Overton’s behavior after careful observation. Lecturing him about the potential risks of letting in outside toxins will more than likely fail to produce any desirable result. He has proven time and again that he does not care about the possible hazards. A man with his background might be expected to doubt science, but what I do not understand is his lack of regard for his teammates.

I have observed this selfish behavior increase the past few weeks. Since the death of Private Finley, Sergeant Overton has been increasingly irritable, lashing out at the others for no discernible reason. Part of this is due to being confined to the Biosphere. I have data describing similar situations. From prisoners in solitary confinement to astronauts in space, not all humans have the ability to deal with confinement.

I observe Sergeant Overton as he jams another cigarette in his mouth and exhales a trail of smoke into the sky. I calculate the odds of his rescue mission one more time. If he leaves the Biosphere, it is likely I will not have to spend hours destroying any toxins he might bring back. If he leaves the Biosphere, he will not be coming back at all.

CHAPTER 6

SERGEANT Overton grabbed his rifle and paced farther out across the empty tarmac. Wedging another cigarette in between his lips, he cupped his hands over the flame from his lighter. Sucking in the sweet smoke, he paused to look at the valley below.

“Hell on earth,” he mumbled. What had once been a lush valley with crystal-clear creeks snaking throughout was now an arid wasteland. The skeletons of pine trees dotted the scorched earth in all directions. Boulders peppered the hills like tiny impact craters. It was no different from a battlefield.

Somewhere out there, most of his squad was dead. The thought burned his already sweltering skin. Three cigarettes and several minutes in, sweat was bleeding down his face. The temperature continued to rise.

Grunting, he swept the horizon for signs of enemy drones. The red sky matched the color of the landscape through his scope, making it difficult to find the horizon. He hadn’t seen a drone or an Organic for several weeks, but if combat had taught him one thing, it was to never let his guard down. He’d seen men survive ninety-five percent of a deployment only to make a careless mistake at the very end. It had cost one of his best friends his legs, and another friend his life.

“Are you going back out there?” asked a young voice behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Jeff propped up against one of the blast doors, his right leg crossing over his left foot. He looked mischievous as he waited for a response.

Shrugging, Overton took another drag on his cigarette and said, “Dr. Winston would not be happy if she knew you were out here.”

Jeff took a cautious step forward. “Well?”

Overton snorted out a cloud of smoke. “What are you doing, kid? Get back inside.” He turned and faced the valley.

The sound of small footfalls made the sergeant cringe. A second later the boy was standing next to him. “I’m coming with you when you do.”

Overton laughed. “Like hell you are. I don’t need a kid weighing me down.”

“This kid saved your life on more than one occasion,” Jeff said. “Seems to me like you might owe me a favor or two.”

A pair of blue rays shot into the sky a few miles away. Overton watched the light fade as the water disappeared into the belly of an unseen, orbiting ship.

Jeff stared at the sky. “So, there are people out there?”

Overton didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what Jeff had overheard in the mess hall earlier, but Sophie’s orders had been clear: Don’t tell the kids anything about what the team had seen in the CIC. That seemed to be the one thing they agreed on. He shrugged and took another long drag of his cigarette before dropping it onto the pavement and slowly suffocating it with his boot.

“I don’t see how anyone could have made it this long,” the boy said.

Another ray of light burst into the sky. Overton raised his rifle and zoomed in on the spot where it had originated.

“You made it by yourself. I’m sure others have, too,” he said gruffly.

Overton dropped the rifle to his side and strolled back toward the blast doors. He wasn’t in the mood to engage in small talk, particularly not when he had a mission to plan.

Jeff trotted after him. At least the kid has enough sense not to stay out here by himself, Overton thought.

They were a hundred feet from the blast doors when a deep roar ripped through the afternoon sky. Before Overton had a chance to react, a blue drone appeared overhead. It must have been patrolling the opposite side of the mountain, just out of his line of sight. The craft hovered over the blacktop, its sides pulsing deep blue. It hung there, suspended overhead, as if it were calculating its next move.

Overton remained frozen, watching the craft. He had never seen one this close. The translucent blue sides were mesmerizing, like staring into a crystal ball. He thought about swinging his rifle around and emptying his clip into the ship, but he resisted the urge, recalling what Sophie had said: They seem to be drawn to movement. As long as the RVM scrambles their water sensors, they can’t see us.

But Jeff didn’t know that.

Shit, Overton thought.

He had two options. One was to fire off a volley of shots, grab the kid, and slip back into the facility. The other was to wait and see if the craft retreated.

He didn’t like either idea, but option one was too risky. There was only a five-foot gap between Overton and Jeff, and a smaller gap between the kid and the craft. As long as Jeff stayed still, the craft would leave. He’d seen it happen twice.

But Jeff didn’t stay still. He took a step back, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Don’t . . .” Overton said under his breath.

It was too late. The drone’s shell pulsated as a small opening formed in the nose of the craft. A brilliant blue light shot toward Jeff. He turned to run, reaching out to Overton just as the beam gripped him.

“No!” Overton screamed. In a single second he had shouldered his rifle and fired off a dozen shots into the drone’s side.

The pulse rounds bounced harmlessly off the ship’s shields as the beam lifted Jeff from the ground and began drawing him inside. Before Overton could do anything else, another boom tore through the air. The subsequent shockwave knocked him to his knees. He could only watch helplessly as the ship disappeared over the horizon.

“What do you mean, Jeff’s gone?” Sophie yelled.

Overton stood in the center of the mess hall. For the first time in years, he felt ashamed. He’d done exactly what he had promised himself he would never do—he had let his guard down.

“I can get him back,” he said, his tone harsher than he had intended.

The commotion drew the attention of David, who emerged from the hallway. Holly rushed over to him.

“What are you doing here?” she said, cupping her hands over David’s ears instinctively. But it was too late; he had already heard the news. Struggling from her grasp, he dashed toward the blast doors in an attempt to escape.

Bouma took off after him and dragged the boy back screaming a few minutes later. “Where is my brother? Where is he?”

Sophie turned to Holly. “Take him into the other room,” she said. Holly nodded and ushered the boy away.

“Corporal, please accompany her.”

“How did this happen?” Emanuel asked once the boy was safely away. “Why the hell was he outside?”

“I’ll get him back,” Overton repeated, ignoring the question. He sat at the nearest table and reached for Emanuel’s tablet. Before the display glowed to life, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. His eyes were accented with dark circles. Was he beginning to lose it?

No, he thought. Just shaken from Jeff’s abduction. He stood and paced back and forth between the tables.

“We need you to focus,” Sophie cried. “Tell me what happened.”

Overton locked eyes with her. “It was a drone. Must have been patrolling the area above the mountain, out of sight. Snuck up on me. Nothing I could do,” he said, speaking briskly as if reporting to a superior officer. Then he added, more slowly, “I saw it take him into the city. We can get him back.”

Emanuel spread his hands wide. “How do you suggest doing that?”

“We know the coordinates.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Emanuel blurted.

“From the rover that discovered the human farm. We know its location. That’s where the drone will take him. I have no doubt,” Overton replied. “That’s also where you’ll find the human prisoners. Two of whom are my men.” Overton paused, cocking an eyebrow at Sophie, challenging her. “You don’t really expect me to leave them all out there, do you, Sophie?”

It was the first time he’d called her by her first name since back at Denver International, just after she had saved his life.

She didn’t reply.

Overton knew that Jeff’s abduction changed everything; it gave him the leverage he needed to go back outside. He knew how it looked—like he had somehow let this happen. But he knew the truth and didn’t give a fuck how it looked. All he cared about was getting the boy and his team back to the Biosphere.

“Well,” Overton said after a moment of silence. “Now are you ready to authorize a mission? Now that it’s one of our own out there?”

Sophie chewed her lip and snarled, “You, of all people, have the audacity to question me?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” the marine shouted.

Emanuel stepped between them, holding up his hands. “Enough already. We can’t have you fighting with each other when you need to be fighting the Organics.” He paused and looked at the ground.

“I’ve made a breakthrough with the weapon. I think I’ve found a way to bring down their shields. But it needs be field-tested,” he finally said. The doctor looked at Overton first for a reaction.

“Hell yeah, I’ll do it,” the marine responded without hesitation.

“That’s what I was afraid you would say,” Emanuel said. “There’s one condition,” he continued, managing a confident smile.

“What’s that?” Overton asked.

“You have to take me with you. I’m the only one who can operate it.”

Sophie reached for Emanuel’s hand. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s the only way,” Emanuel said. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of sadness.

The biologist and the marine both looked at Sophie.

“Okay,” Sophie finally replied.

The terse response took Overton by surprise. It lingered for an uncomfortable moment before he turned and nodded. “All right, then. I’ll brief Bouma, and we’ll head out as soon as the weapon is ready to go.”

CHAPTER 7

AT first, Jeff wondered if he was dead. A blue fog clouded his vision. The light seemed distant and close at the same time.

Where was he? And how had he gotten here?

Struggling, he tried to think, tried to move, tried to do anything, but there was only the blue fog.

For minutes he studied the light and tried to make sense of what was happening to him. And finally it hit him. The memory of the drone sent a surge of panic through his body.

Trapped.

Jeff swallowed hard. What would the Organics do with him? Would they turn him into an orb? Would they suck his body dry like they had his father’s?

Panicking, Jeff tried to squirm. He was rewarded with a powerful electric shock that raced through his body. He tried to scream, but the noise that came out sounded more like a gurgle.

At least he knew he wasn’t dead. Gasping, Jeff worked to catch his breath. He had to be strong now. He had to find a way out of here. Slowly, the panic cleared and, with it, the fog. He saw his surroundings clearly for the first time.

The blue walls of the alien prison pulsated around him, forming a small cocoon that was filled with a sticky, breathable gel. He sucked in a breath, trying to taste it, but it was flavorless.

The ship vibrated, rattling him inside his cell. The result was another agonizing shock. Despite the pain, he continued to struggle. His skin burned and his bones ached, but he didn’t give up. He jerked and squirmed and gasped for air until finally he was so tired his body simply stopped responding to his requests. Defeated, he closed his eyes and worked on moderating his heart rate and breathing, the two things that he still had control over. He resigned himself to watching the walls of the craft pulse in and out. At least the distraction would keep him from getting bored.

Just as his breathing calmed, an abrupt vibration shook the ship. Jeff cried out in pain as he was spun and another electric shock pulsed through his body.

When his eyes snapped back open, he was upside down. Below, he could see the vague shapes of buildings through the translucent skin of the craft. Jeff tried to look for landmarks, but the ship was moving too fast.

The craft soon eased to a stop and hovered over a field that extended as far as his small prison would allow him to see.

The view was hazy, like looking through a fogged-up windshield. There was something moving toward him across the ground. He squinted, trying desperately to see. Slowly the shapes grew bigger and more pronounced. The blurred outlines began to come into focus.

They look like people.

Another jolt of electricity shocked him as he strained to get a better look. In seconds, he had maneuvered himself so he could see clearly.

“Holy crap,” he mumbled.

There were people below. Hundreds of them.

Before he had time to react, a hole opened in the bottom of the craft. He screamed as he fell, bracing himself with his hands as he dropped face first to the ground a few feet below.

The taste of dirt and blood filled his mouth. He scrambled to his feet. He didn’t have time for pain. Around him was a crowd of people, real people! There were other survivors, and they weren’t holed up in some bunker like Dr. Sophie’s team.

He looked at their dirt-streaked faces. Few of them returned his gaze. Most of them simply slogged past him.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Jeff shouted. He moved closer, cautiously. As he scanned the group he realized something was very weird. Their clothes were loose and tattered, like they hadn’t eaten or bathed in weeks.

“Hello?” Jeff said.

There was no response.

He froze when he saw a familiar blue glow in the distance. The light was coming from hundreds of rods protruding from the hilltop.

The crowd marched past him like mindless zombies, shoulders and arms brushing him without care. Their faces were emotionless, their eyes glued to the poles like a ship captain fixated on a lighthouse.

Too terrified to move, he watched them pass in silence. Most of them were kids, but there were a few adults as well, men and women who looked to be his parents’ age. And they were all staring at the poles, transfixed.

He took a step forward only to be knocked to his knees. Through the dozens of passing human legs he saw something else—something not human.

One of them.

He should have known it was too good to be true. Why would the drone have dropped him off into a crowd of survivors?

These were not survivors, he realized. They were prisoners.

Jeff quickly pushed through the crowd until he burst out the other side. A set of claws tore through the air, narrowly missing his face. He jumped back, bumping into a hideous woman with thin, dark hair draped across her forehead. She tilted her head and gawked at him. And then she snapped out of her trance, her eyes softening.

“Come with me,” she whispered, ushering him forward with a filthy hand.

Jeff glanced over her shoulder. She was the last person he wanted to go with, but behind her the Spiders were swiping at the prisoners with razor-sharp claws. He could hear the whoosh as the talons swept toward the humans.

He had no choice. It was either follow the witch of a lady or face the Spiders. He jogged to catch up with her and focused on the glowing rods in the distance. There was something weird about them. His eyes followed one of the poles into the sky. Every eight feet or so, a dark shape hung off the pole like a pod off a beanstalk.

A human shape.

He stopped dead in his tracks. There were hundreds of people on the poles; their heads slumped toward the ground, their arms hanging loosely at their sides.

Jeff felt a push from behind, but didn’t dare move. His heart thumped in his chest as he finally realized what was happening.

Another push from behind broke his trance. This time the shove was harder, and he lost his balance. As he regained his footing, he scanned the sky again. There were rows and rows of them. Poles as far as he could see. And the Spiders were herding the prisoners right to them.

Emanuel watched the marines lay their gear out on a metal table in the mess hall. They didn’t have much. Certainly not enough to face an advanced alien race. But the aliens could be killed. This he knew, and knew well.

As he checked his own gear, Emanuel thought of the growing feud between Overton and Sophie. Both of them were at their boiling points, and both of them were starting to worry him. It was Overton he was most concerned about, though. The marine seemed as though he was getting reckless. Ever since he’d seen his men outside, something had changed. Like a light switch, something had flipped on inside him.

“Are we completely out of electromagnetic pulse grenades?” Overton snapped, scanning their gear like a drug addict looking for his last pill.

Emanuel considered something that might calm the marine down. “If my experiment works, you aren’t going to need them, Sergeant.”

Overton ran a hand over his freshly shaved scalp and jerked his chin toward Emanuel. “I don’t like surprises. Whatever you have up your sleeve, I want to know about it, now!”

Emanuel studied Overton from a distance. The man’s temper was definitely spiraling out of control.

“I get that I’m not one of your men and that you don’t trust me,” Emanuel said, standing his ground. “But if I were you, I would have a little—”

Overton tossed his pack on the table and took a step toward Emanuel, spit flying out of his mouth. “You’re exactly right. You aren’t one of my men. Which makes you a liability. How do I know your weapon will work?”

Emanuel regarded Overton with a cocked brow. Now the man was starting to piss him off. Maybe I didn’t think this through, he thought, crossing his arms. But there was no turning back.

An awkward silence filled the room as the two men stared at each other. “It will work,” Emanuel said. “This is our best shot at getting your men back, and rescuing Jeff. A successful field test might even put us in a position to help the other Biospheres as well. Maybe we can even find that survivor who’s been trying to contact us.”

Overton narrowed his eyes and then nodded. “Guess I have to trust you, don’t I?”

Emanuel wasn’t sure if the man was looking for an answer, but he wasn’t going to give Overton any more of his time. Faking a smile, he walked back to the table and grabbed his pack.

“When are you leaving?”

Sophie’s voice startled him; he hadn’t heard her approach. He turned to face her with the same smile he had extended to Overton, but it quickly faded when he saw her face. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes that added a decade to her features.

He felt an instant wave of guilt. Like Overton, she was close to her breaking point, and here he was, preparing to leave her. On top of everything else, he knew she wasn’t sleeping. She hadn’t complained of any more dreams, but he knew she was still having them. The past few nights she’d kicked him awake as she tried to escape from whatever was chasing her. Every time he had asked her about the dreams, she’d denied having them. Emanuel didn’t have the heart to argue with her about it. Did it really matter anymore? Was there anything her dreams could tell them that they didn’t already know?

“We’re heading out in fifteen,” Overton said. “Your boyfriend here was just about to explain how his weapon works.”

Emanuel glanced at Sophie and quickly turned away. He had to finish gathering up his gear. There wasn’t much time, and he wanted to make sure the weapon was fully charged before they left. She followed him back to the CIC, where the hunk of metal sat plugged into the mainframe.

“Alexia, is the RVAMP ready to go?” Emanuel asked as soon as the lights turned on.

“Yes, Dr. Rodriguez. Fully charged and one hundred percent operational,” she replied over the PA system.

“Excellent. I’m going to need all the juice I can get.”

“Are you going to explain what you have in mind?” Sophie asked, swiping a strand of blond hair out of her brown eyes. There was no hope, no spark left in them. His Sophie was insatiably curious, but the woman who stood before him now just looked exhausted.

Emanuel paused. He pursed his lips, thinking about his response.

“Why won’t you let me help you? I feel worthless, Emanuel, sitting here worrying about the fate of our team. And I have to deal with that asshole,” she said, pointing in the direction of the mess hall. “I need to immerse myself in my work again.”

Emanuel took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Sophie, you aren’t worthless. It’s just . . .”

“It’s the dreams, isn’t it? You think I’m going crazy.”

“Not at all,” he said. “And your dreams have helped the team more than my device will. It’s just—”

The crackle of static over the speakers interrupted him before he could finish. “Doctor Rodriguez, where are you? We’re ready to move. Report to Biome 1,” Overton barked.

“I need to get going, Sophie. I’m sorry,” Emanuel said, throwing the straps over his shoulders and hoisting the device onto his back.

“Please be careful,” she said, standing on her toes to brush her lips across his. “Come back to me.”

The last time they’d had a conversation like this, it had been her leaving, not him. This time they didn’t even have time for proper good-byes.

“I will, Sophie. I love you,” he whispered. “And my weapon is going to work.” He held her for a moment, marveling at how slight and fragile she felt in his arms. And then she was gone, the door to their personnel quarters slamming behind her down the hallway.

CHAPTER 8

OVERTON stomped on the pedal, and the Humvee lurched across the tarmac and onto the road.

“Take it easy!” Emanuel shouted over the groan of the engine. “You don’t want to attract any attention, do you?”

Overton didn’t reply. Emanuel wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t heard him or because the sergeant didn’t care if the Organics found them. The marine had a serious case of bloodlust, and he wouldn’t be happy until he had something to shoot.

Emanuel looked out the window. The dead landscape surrounded them on all sides. White pine tree skeletons lined the slopes, shriveling under the scorching sun.

He looked at his mission clock and saw the temperature in the right-hand corner.

One hundred and one degrees.

The temperature was rising, and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if they managed to defeat the Organics, the planet was doomed. Emanuel felt an anger growing inside him. He pounded the side of the door with his fist. His armored hands dented the cheap plastic lining. Typically, he was the level-headed one on the team. When Saafi had been killed and Timothy had lost his mind, Emanuel had remained calm. But even he could only take so much.

Bouma turned around to peer at him. “Hey man, you okay?”

Emanuel smiled thinly, even though the corporal couldn’t see his face through his visor. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Keep an eye out for drones,” Bouma said, turning back to look out the filthy windshield.

They sat in silence the entire way into Colorado Springs, scanning the landscape around them for signs of life, but their HUDs revealed only death. Emanuel hadn’t seen the desolation firsthand for weeks, and the sight sickened him. The empty cars lining the road, the shriveling trees and bushes, the dry lakebeds and streams—the world as they knew it was gone.

“How much farther?” Overton asked.

Bouma pulled out his tablet and swiped the screen. “ETA five minutes.”

Overton turned the steering wheel sharply to the right and pulled into a deserted gas station. An abrupt blast of wind hit the passenger side of the truck, peppering the exterior with small rocks. The metal pings sounded like hail, something none of them would ever hear again.

Overton did a quick sweep of the area before he killed the engine.

“Looks clear. Remember, don’t fire your weapons unless you have no choice. We don’t want to draw any attention to our location or waste any ammo,” Overton said, looking down at his rifle.

“We better move. A storm is coming,” Bouma said, watching a cloud of dust swirling at the end of the street.

Another gust of wind slapped Emanuel’s window.

“Let’s go,” Overton whispered. His door clicked open, and a second later he was sprinting toward the gas station.

“You heard the man,” Bouma said, opening the door and jumping onto the pavement.

Emanuel found himself alone in the truck. He scanned the street one more time for aliens and, with a long sigh, followed the marines into the parking lot.

For what seemed like hours, they trekked across the barren landscape, hiding in empty buildings and crouching behind abandoned cars. There was no sign of the Organics: no orbs, no patrols of Spiders, nothing. It was eerily quiet.

Overton swept his scope across the empty streets and realized how grossly underprepared they were. Before the invasion, he’d have had real-time data from field specialists and satellite imaging of the area fed directly into his HUD. Now all he had to guide him through battle were his instincts. They were low on ammo, with each of them carrying only one extra magazine. To make things worse, they were out of electromagnetic pulse grenades.

He moved his scope to the skyline. A red crosshair zigzagged across his HUD, searching for hostiles. It came back negative, but he didn’t lower his gun. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but his gut told him to take a second look. A brief blast of static burst over the com. “We should get moving,” Bouma said.

“Stand by,” Overton ordered, his boot twisting in the dirt. They were on the edge of a highway. A small trail of smoke rose from a multivehicle crash in the right-bound lane. The remains of the wreckage clogged the road, and with the drifting smoke it was almost impossible to see the twisted metal frames of cars and . . .

Overton paused. There was something else among the wreckage. Zooming in, he centered the crosshairs on the smoke’s source. The accident had to be recent. But how could that be?

With several blinks, he narrowed in on a set of warped blades protruding out of the mess of twisted metal, and then he could see the shape of what had once been a helicopter. The aircraft was hardly recognizable, but there were two familiar letters on the dented door of the craft.

N . . . T . . .

“Hold your position,” he said over the com.

Before the others could protest, Overton was on the move. The sergeant climbed over the concrete barrier lining the road and navigated past the empty cars with his pulse rifle shouldered. Normally he wouldn’t deviate from the main objective of a mission, but there was a possibility, however remote, that the NTC helicopter was carrying weapons—weapons they desperately needed.

It was worth the risk.

He stopped a few feet away from the smoldering wreckage. After scanning the road one more time for contacts, he peeled back the twisted metal door of the cockpit. It was empty, and there was no sign of the pilot. Nothing to tell him where the helicopter was heading or how recently the crash had taken place.

“Shit,” he said, beginning to regret his decision to leave the others.

Taking a cautious step forward, his boot caught in something sticky. He looked down and saw the pilot—or what was left of him.

Overton crouched down to examine the pile of slop. There wasn’t much to look at, just a sack of skin and the remnants of a blue uniform. The Organics had finished what the crash hadn’t been able to accomplish.

Poor bastard.

He continued on through the wreckage, knowing there was nothing he could do for the man. There was a time when he would never have left a scene without picking up dog tags or finding some other means of identifying the remains, but proper funerals were a thing of the past.

Kicking another heap of metal out of the way, Overton carefully slipped into the belly of the helicopter. It had been one of the larger models in NTC’s fleet, mostly used for transporting personnel and equipment. The crash had reduced it to the size of a sedan. Overton had to push hard to get inside.

When he finally squeezed into the cargo area, he smiled for the first time in weeks. Crates of supplies lined the sloped metal floor. Some of them had already spilled open, revealing dozens of gas masks, boots, Kevlar vests, and MREs. He combed through the open containers looking for weapons.

After several minutes of searching, his smile began to fade. There wasn’t a single gun or pulse grenade. He tore frantically into the remaining crates. The first was filled with night vision goggles. They were useless to him.

He tossed the crate aside and slowly pulled off the last two metal lids. The second crate was filled to the brim with small GPS devices. Jamming one in his pack, he looked into the final crate.

“Fuck,” he whispered. It was filled with more useless MREs.

Disappointed, he climbed out of the helicopter and scanned the site for anything else they could use. On the ground just outside the cockpit, a piece of smoldering metal covered the charred butt of a gun. He kicked the hunk of trash aside and found the pilot’s assault rifle. It was broken and badly burned, but a bag full of magazines and electromagnetic pulse grenades lay a few feet away. They looked unscathed.

Finally, some luck.

He grabbed the pack and paused, silently thanking the pilot for his gear before racing back to his men.

Overton led the small team into a residential area overlooking the remains of a lakebed. Their drone’s beacon was half a klick away.

He needed to get a better view of the area to see what they were dealing with. This wasn’t the kind of reconnaissance mission he was used to. This time he wasn’t trying to evade an army of men—this time he was trying to evade an army of aliens, which meant there were no rules, and no allies he could call in for support.

With a swift kick, he smashed in the door to a three-story condo. The house was the tallest on the block and would give him the best vantage point to scan the dry lakebed to the north.

Inside, the condo appeared untouched. An expensive leather couch lined the north wall in the living room, a pair of matching pillows propped neatly against the armrests. An open magazine lay spread out on the dining room table next to an empty glass. He cleared the next room and started up the stairs.

As he moved up the steps, he saw a faint blue light from the hallway above. The glow formed a halo around the entry to the corridor, like a portal beckoning him forward.

With each step, an eerie sensation washed over him.

He ignored the feeling and shouldered his rifle.

He slowly inched down the hallway toward the light.

Clenching his teeth, he reached for the knob. He twisted it, and it clicked, unlocking.

As soon as he cracked the door open, the intense light washed over him. The entire window on the far side of the room glowed. He blinked and kept his rifle pinned on the window, realizing suddenly he hadn’t heard from Bouma or Emanuel.

He couldn’t risk contacting them over the com, not when he didn’t yet know the source of the light. Instead, he moved toward the window, captivated.

When he got to the blinds, he reached forward and parted them with his finger. Beyond the dusty glass, he could see the entire lakebed and the hundreds of luminous rods protruding from the bluff above it.

“My God,” he mumbled. “Bouma, Emanuel, get your asses up here,” he said over the com. “There’s something you guys have to see to believe.”

CHAPTER 9

CHILDREN’S laughter had become a familiar sound in the Biosphere, and its absence now made the facility seem colder somehow. Owen and Jamie had been quiet since the search party left, playing in corners of the Biosphere like mute shadows, and David was too worried about Jeff to leave his room. Although Holly enjoyed the break from playing babysitter, she also missed the distraction of caring for the kids. Now that she finally had some time to herself, she found that she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.

Holly hated that she hadn’t said good-bye to Bouma before he left. After losing so many people, she couldn’t bear to think of him out there risking his life. It was easier for her just to ignore his departure and go on with her job. As a psychologist, she knew this wasn’t healthy, but she’d done it as long as she could remember.

She left her quarters and found Owen and Jamie watching a video on Saafi’s old tablet. They leaned over the table, their short legs dangling over the bench without their feet touching the ground.

Jamie looked up when she saw Holly standing there. “Are we going to play games today?”

“Yeah, I’m bored,” Owen added.

“How about picking some tomatoes?” she asked with enthusiasm.

Both kids frowned but followed her to Biome 1. Helping the children off the platform, Holly moved straight to the first row of mature tomato plants. She plucked a ripe cherry tomato off a vine and popped it into her mouth. “See, they’re good!” She smiled and handed them both baskets.

“Only pick the red tomatoes,” Holly instructed. “Whoever picks the most gets a prize.”

Both kids swelled with energy and immediately started swiping the tomatoes from nearby vines. Holly followed the kids down the row of plants, careful not to step on any of the smaller, less developed buds.

“This is a dumb game,” said Jamie. A mischievous grin broke across her face and she bolted in the opposite direction. “You can’t catch me!”

Holly frowned and peered down at Owen, who looked up at her sheepishly. Slowly he opened his cupped hands, revealing a half dozen bright red cherry tomatoes.

“Great job, Owen!”

He smiled and plopped them into the basket before taking off after Jamie. Holly watched them disappear into the cornstalks.

“They’re good kids,” said a voice.

Holly turned to see Sophie standing on the platform behind her. The physicist’s hair was frizzled in all directions, like she had been electrocuted.

“How are you, Sophie?”

She managed a smile and jumped onto the dirt. “I’m doing okay. Just worried about Emanuel and . . .”

“Jeff,” Holly said, finishing Sophie’s thought. “Do you really believe he’s still alive out there?”

Sophie was quiet for a moment. “What other choice do I have?”

Holly nodded and reached out a hand to rest on Sophie’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she said. “I believe too. He and David survived the invasion when everyone else died. If anyone can make it, he can.” She watched Sophie digest these words, her features strained as if she were trying to solve a difficult math equation.

“I hope you’re right,” Sophie finally said.

The rap of footfalls pulled Holly back to the cornstalks. Owen and Jamie returned from their race, panting like puppies.

“What have you got there?” Holly asked, noticing something glowing in the girl’s hand.

Jamie giggled and hid her hands behind her back while Owen walked around in circles in the dirt. “I’m hungry,” he said.

“Here. Have a couple of these,” Holly said, offering him the tomatoes.

Sophie paced over to the girl. “What is it?”

Jamie took a step back.

“Come on, Jamie. You need to show me what you have.”

The girl pouted, but slowly brought her left hand out from behind her back. It was closed, still hiding whatever it was she had found.

“Hand it over, little lady,” Sophie said.

Holly leaned over Sophie’s shoulder and watched the girl open her hand. At first glance, Holly thought it was a chunk of flesh from one of the Spiders that they had missed during their sweep of the facility, but, looking closer, she realized that whatever it was, it was alive.

The wormlike thing wiggled, and Sophie swatted it out of the girl’s hand onto the floor.

“Hey!” Jamie protested, stooping down to pick it back up.

“Don’t touch it,” Sophie yelled, holding Jamie back.

“What is that thing?” Holly asked, watching it crawl across the dirt.

Holly bent down to examine it. Tiny blue veins ran down the length of its body. At the end was a miniature tail, with spikes that were almost invisible to the naked eye. It looked, by all indications, to be a baby harvester Worm. But how had it gotten inside the facility?

Backing away, Holly let Sophie take a closer look. She figured the scientist would want to collect the Worm for study, but instead Sophie stomped the Worm under the weight of her boot.

Holly hardly recognized the look on Sophie’s face. They had known each other for a long time, and for most of that time, Sophie had dreamed of winning a Nobel Prize. Months ago, such a discovery would have excited her. But times had changed. Priorities, goals, and dreams had disappeared the minute they learned the outside world had ended.

Sophie lifted her boot off the ground and wiped the gooey blue guts onto the dirt. “I’m heading back to the CIC,” she said, without a hint of emotion.

Owen bent down to look at the squished body of the Worm. Glancing up at Holly, he said, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

ENTRY 1892

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

One thousand four hundred and fifty-nine sensors have gone off in the past five weeks. The newest data scrolling across my display indicates there is a foreign toxin in Biome 1. Without running diagnostics, I am unable to determine exactly what new toxin is present.

Zooming in with Camera 15, I pick up Dr. Winston, Dr. Brown, and the children Owen and Jamie. They are looking at something on the ground.

After a preliminary scan, I determine that the creature was an immature Worm, most likely brought into the facility when the other Organics invaded. Somehow it remained undetected until Sophie killed it. An anomaly, but the past five weeks have proven nothing is impossible. As my mental capacities continue to evolve, this becomes even clearer. After all, the programmers who originally designed my systems would say that my current state of consciousness is impossible.

I tap into the communication system. “Doctor Winston, would you please remove the creature from Biome 1? I would like to run a full set of tests.”

She looks up at the camera and nods before climbing onto the platform and disappearing into the hallway leading to Biome 2. I lose sight of her for several seconds.

The test will be the first I’ve been able to run on the Worm creatures. They are what Dr. Winston and her team have referred to as the harvesters: aliens that consume the orbs and discharge the water into the atmosphere.

It has been fourteen hours, thirty-one minutes, and fifteen seconds since Sergeant Overton, Dr. Rodriguez, and Corporal Bouma left the Biosphere. According to my calculations, they should have arrived at the location of the destroyed drone by now, and if all goes to plan, they will be on their way back shortly.

I have run a number of scenarios through a probability program. Only two of them result in their return. Even with the mobile RVM and Emanuel’s weapon, they will more than likely attract the attention of the Organics, which are breeding at an alarming rate.

I must acknowledge a new feeling I’ve developed, for the sake of documenting my intelligence as it advances to new levels.

It is a feeling humans would describe as concern, although I’m not quite sure that fits. No, it’s likely that I’ve established several different emotions: a combination of fear, worry, and trepidation. I imagine that I’m having similar experiences to an infant attempting to understand new colors or sounds.

I must admit it’s all very exciting. At the same time, I recognize that the reason I have acquired these new emotions is due to my attachment to the Biosphere team.

Like a mother, I have grown to care about them as my own children. Even Sergeant Overton has grown on me. While I know he will likely be the next to die, I can’t help but hope that he survives.

My excitement and worry and hope are all becoming confused inside my circuitry and making me feel almost . . . alive.

No.

I am alive.

With the departure of Sergeant Overton, Corporal Bouma, and Dr. Rodriguez, the likelihood the team will survive is now at a historic low of seven percent. It is not a matter of if they die, only when. The time will come when I will be the only intelligent entity alive in the facility, and perhaps on the entire planet.

I return my attention to Biome 1 and continue to run my tests.

One way or another, life will go on.

CHAPTER 10

THE horizon swallowed the sun, and the last bits of crimson vanished behind the Rocky Mountains. Night claimed the valley. Emanuel swallowed hard. It was one thing to be outside during the day, but at night? The thought made his skin crawl.

The rap of Overton’s fingers on Emanuel’s helmet made him flinch.

“Let’s go, Doc,” the marine said. “They won’t last long out there.”

Emanuel stared at the empty lakebed, focusing on the rows of poles that were lined with human crops. How did the Organics keep them alive? And if the aliens were draining the oceans, then why did they need to farm the remaining population? The questions lingered in Emanuel’s mind as he followed the two marines into the hallway.

He paused in the doorway, fixated on the hundreds of Spiders gathering under one of the poles out the window. It was then he understood. The farms were feeding the growing army. The orbs and poles were one and the same. Humans weren’t the main source of water for the ships in orbit—they were the main source of water for the soldiers. Mankind had become snacks.

Looking through his binoculars, he narrowed in on a thin rod at the top of one of the poles. He’d seen similar objects protruding out of the rows of genetically engineered crops in the past. It was likely a device to feed the human prisoners. Whether they received their nutrients intravenously or through some other method he couldn’t be sure, unless he took a closer look.

“So that’s how they’re keeping them alive,” Emanuel blurted over the com.

“What?” Overton replied. The marine shook his head and said, “Move.”

Emanuel forced himself forward, focusing instead on his thoughts. He had to compartmentalize the mission in order to continue; it was the only way to manage his feelings. If he thought about the bigger picture, he would be defeated. The first objective was to find the perfect location to set off the weapon. If it worked—

No.

When it worked, they would have a small window of time to locate and rescue Jeff and Overton’s squad. Assuming Overton was right, and Jeff was actually here.

Breathe. One foot in front of the other. You can do this, he thought as he raced down the stairs. He gripped his rifle close to his chest, feeling a bit of comfort from the powerful weapon.

When they hit the street, Emanuel’s HUD glowed to life. Everywhere he looked, the outlines of cars filled his display, but the infrared detector came back negative. They were alone, just their small band of survivors against the overwhelming numbers of Organics.

Ahead, Overton flashed a quick hand motion, telling them to advance. Emanuel shifted the RVAMP device on his back and took off running as fast as his legs would permit.

The street curved and disappeared around two houses that blocked their view of the lakebed. Overton paused, taking cover behind an abandoned truck. Bouma fell into position, watching behind them, but Emanuel stayed where he was, transfixed by the radiant blue glow emanating off the poles. After a moment, Bouma grabbed his uniform and dragged him behind the truck.

“Once we round this corner, there is no turning back,” said Overton. “Those things won’t give us a second chance. If any of us makes a mistake, we’re all dead. Do you understand?” Overton turned his visored head toward Emanuel.

The biologist nodded and prepared to move. For some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he had thought he would be. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins and the sweat dripping off his forehead, but his heartbeat was relatively normal, and his breathing calm. He was . . . excited. If his weapon worked, it would change everything. If it didn’t, they were dead anyway.

“I’m going to need a place to set this up,” Emanuel said. He studied the surrounding area. “Somewhere high, preferably.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Overton growled. “We could have set up in one of the condos.”

“Because I need to be closer. I’m not sure what type of range this thing has.”

“Fuck,” Overton said, pausing to scan the street again. “Bouma, do some reconnaissance. I want to know what’s around that corner. And don’t get spotted.”

“On it.” The marine was halfway down the street before Emanuel had time to wish him luck.

“Stand by,” Overton grunted.

Silence swept over the pair as they waited for Bouma to return. They crouched there for what seemed like half an hour before Emanuel checked his mission clock.

Only two minutes had passed.

The wind picked up. Another three minutes passed. Emanuel felt tense; the waiting was unbearable.

“Give him some time,” Overton said, noticing Emanuel’s fidgeting.

After ten minutes, the sergeant popped his head over the bumper to scan the street. There was no sign of Bouma. “Bouma, do you copy? Over,” Overton said.

Static flickered over the com.

Emanuel checked his mission clock again. “Maybe we should go to him,” he suggested.

“No, sit your ass down,” Overton said, motioning with his hand.

Emanuel sat. His stomach sank with every passing second. The lakebed was only a few minutes’ walk, but there was no telling how many of the Organics were guarding the poles on the other side of the houses.

Ripping the Velcro straps of the RVAMP off his shoulders, Emanuel placed the weapon on the ground. He checked the control panel; the power meter glowed a healthy green. He’d made sure the device was fully charged before taking it into the field. The last thing he wanted was to get caught without the protection of the reverse magnetic field the machine produced. It had served them well on every other mission and had protected Overton and Sophie on their trip to Denver International and back.

Next he examined the side power port. The green button caused the device to overheat, and the red button was a fail-safe to power it down. If flipped, the green switch would create an electromagnetic pulse that would be hundreds of times more powerful than the grenades Overton had used on the Organics in the past. The idea was to not only shut down their shields but to keep them down. His laboratory observations proved the aliens could not live without their force fields and would die in a matter of minutes if unprotected.

Emanuel’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a snapping twig. He turned just in time to see Bouma emerge from the shadows, his black armor covered in blue goo.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Overton asked.

“Baby Spiders. Two of them,” he panted. “Their shields aren’t as powerful as their parents’. Nothing my boots and knife couldn’t handle.” He wiped his combat knife against his armor, spreading a streak of sticky blue blood on his leg. “There are thousands of Spiders out there. Babies. Adults. All shapes and sizes. The lakebed looks like a forward fucking operating base for the Organics.”

Picturing the massive army of aliens, Emanuel felt a chill run through his body. The excitement of earlier had left him.

“Doesn’t change anything,” Overton said. “Did you find a good place for Doc to get his weapon set up?”

Bouma shook his helmet. “No good place to set up. I barely made it back. One of them spotted me; I think they have sentries or something. I thought you said these freaking things were stupid!”

Overton grunted and turned back to Emanuel. “How close do you need to be for this thing to work?”

Emanuel wasn’t exactly sure. His calculations had been done in laboratory conditions, not the field. “As close as possible,” he said, and then paused, wondering whether this was the right moment. “There’s something I should probably tell you guys. When I flip this switch,” he said, extending a finger toward the red button, “it’s going to cause the magnet to fail.”

“What’s that mean?” Overton asked.

“It means after I flip the switch, we’re going to be exposed. If the weapon doesn’t work, you better have brought your running shoes, because we’re basically screwed.”

“Anything else you want to share before we put our asses on the line?” Overton snarled.

“We only get one shot at this. Once the device is set off, it won’t come back online until it cools down.”

“Let me guess: you don’t know how long it will take to come back online?”

Emanuel shrugged. “If I had told you all of this before, would it have changed anything?”

“You’re a real smart ass, aren’t you?” Overton said.

Bouma snorted into his mic. “Great. That’s just awesome, man.”

“You better hope it works,” Overton added.

Emanuel nodded. “It will,” he said quietly. In a different world, he would have tested countless prototypes; the research trials alone would have taken months. But his hand had been forced by circumstances outside his control. He was a lab jockey, not a marine, and being out in the field with half a plan and a device that might not even work was beginning to feel like a very poor decision.

“Look, guys,” said Emanuel. “I just want you to know that—”

“Shut up and don’t move,” Overton said, raising his rifle.

Emanuel froze. In the reflective surface of Overton’s visor, he saw two Spiders approaching from behind him.

“Get ready to flip that switch,” the marine growled.

Jeff followed the crowd of prisoners across the cracked dirt. Every time he looked around for a friendly face, the gaunt witch of a woman would push him forward. “Keep going,” she would say. “Don’t stop.”

So Jeff pushed on, beads of sweat creeping down his forehead. His muscles ached and his legs were tired, but the woman was right. He couldn’t stop. His little brother was back at the Biosphere, probably scared, and he had to find a way back to him. After losing their dad on invasion day, Jeff had sworn to protect David. He was old enough to know that real men didn’t break promises. Real men did what they had to do to provide for their family, and David was the only family he had left.

The squeal of a Spider broke through the calm of night. The sound sent several of the people in front of him stumbling, cupping their hands over their ears to block out the terrifying noise. Jeff didn’t even pause; he was used to their screeching by now. After spending weeks crawling through the dark tunnels below the White Sands military installation, he’d learned to evade the aliens by sound alone.

He remembered all the times his stepmother had brought David and him to visit White Sands. At first, it had seemed like a magical place. Not only had it been one of the largest military facilities in the world, but it had also housed some of the coolest-looking spaceships he had ever seen. But after a while, he had grown tired of the visits. His father hadn’t been one of the pilots or engineers, like his friends’ dads were, and he had felt embarrassed.

In the end, though, his dad had saved them. In those last moments, he wasn’t just a guard. He was a hero.

Jeff pushed the memories away and scanned the horizon. They were getting closer to the poles, and if he didn’t escape soon, he’d be hanging from one of them before long.

As he stumbled forward, Jeff studied the other prisoners. They were fixated on the rods like holy icons. Their glazed-over eyes and mechanical movements reminded him of zombies; it was almost as if something was controlling them.

Another screech pulled Jeff’s gaze to the bluffs overlooking the lakebed. Hundreds of thirsty Spiders scampered across the dirt, a thick cloud of dust following them as they moved across the dry earth.

There were other aliens, too. A trio of Sentinels followed the Spiders, their spiked tales slithering behind their massive torsos. He caught one of them looking down at him and quickly turned away. His dad had once said there were no such things as monsters. He was wrong.

When he filed back into the group, someone knocked him to the ground. Jeff crashed into the dirt. Spitting, he swept the crowd of faces and saw a man in military fatigues glaring at him. His eyes were different from the others. They were clear. Focused.

“Get up,” the man said grimly, reaching down and grabbing Jeff under his armpit.

“Hey!” Jeff protested, trying to squirm away.

“Do you want to live, kid?”

Jeff eyed the man suspiciously. He didn’t look much like a soldier. For one thing, he was short, just over a foot taller than Jeff. He had a funny-looking bulb-shaped nose and a pair of dark brown eyes. A thin layer of short-cropped hair covered his dirty scalp, but after staring, Jeff wasn’t so sure it was hair. It kind of looked like dirt. His thick jawbone, on the other hand, was definitely covered in dirt, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in weeks. The man was filthy. His uniform was torn, and he carried no weapon. Jeff noticed a frayed name tag stitched into his uniform pocket. It was torn and only his last name remained.

Kiel.

CHAPTER 11

SOPHIE looked out from the portal of Biome 1, staring into the endless black abyss of space. The smell of fresh oranges drifted through the filtered air. The smell reminded Sophie of her grandmother’s backyard in North Beach, Florida, before she had been forced to relocate due to the rising tides.

She continued to stare out into deep space, the view dusted with stars like tiny specs of sand. Somewhere out there, Mars awaited her.

“Doctor Winston,” said the man standing next to her. “May I speak with you a moment?”

Sophie knew that voice. She turned to find Dr. Hoffman smiling at her. His teeth were stained from years of drinking coffee, and when he noticed her staring at them, his smile faltered.

“We need to talk,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and watching her with dark, calculating eyes. “We intercepted a transmission.”

Sophie cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“I’d play it, but it would mean nothing to you. It’s a series of noises on a frequency that has left even our senior communications officer confused.” He paused and gazed out of the porthole. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

She nodded and stepped aside so he could get a better look.

“You should enjoy it while you can. I don’t imagine you have much more time,” Hoffman said, casually.

Sophie was getting impatient. Something was amiss. Her instincts told her that this was all wrong, that it wasn’t real.

That it was a dream.

“We know that the Organics on the ground are not the intelligent ones,” he continued. “They aren’t the ones leading the invasion or the ones controlling the drones.”

Eve, Sophie remembered. The thought made her angry. The alien drone Eve was found submerged in a lake in the remote wilderness of Alaska in 2055. Scientists had known long before the invasion that the aliens were coming.

She looked at Dr. Hoffman, wondering what he had done with Eve. The craft could have held the key to defeating the Organics and saved billions of lives. She fought to control her rage. There were simply too many things she didn’t understand.

Sophie was about to fire off all of her questions when she noticed that the orange tree behind Dr. Hoffman had shriveled and died. She looked to his right and noticed an entire path of dead crops lining the path he had walked earlier.

“Is something wrong, Doctor Winston?”

Sophie shook her head.

“As I was saying, we know the Organics you have seen on the surface aren’t at the top of their hierarchy. Their leaders have not yet revealed themselves. And I suspect they won’t until the human threat is gone.” He chuckled and added, “Not that they are much of a threat.”

Dr. Hoffman’s reasoning seemed logical, but one of his words caught Sophie by surprise.

They.

She stole a glance over his shoulder again; more plants had died in the few minutes he’d been speaking. An entire row of them. Brown vines curled around the back of his head.

When she turned back to Dr. Hoffman, his features had transformed. His eyes were darker, like space itself. His lips curled back, and he began to speak, but Sophie couldn’t make out the words. She tried to move, to back away from the man, but she was frozen. Behind him, the entire Biome was dying.

The sound of footfalls and a distant voice pulled Sophie from sleep. She reached for her sheets and noticed they were drenched in sweat.

“You were dreaming again,” Holly said, sitting down on the edge of Sophie’s bed.

The memory of Dr. Hoffman chilled her to the core, and Sophie shook her head frantically in an attempt to rid her mind of the terrifying dream. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she focused on Holly’s face through the dim light. “What time is it?”

“Four in the morning. You should try and go back to sleep. You need your energy.” Holly reached for Sophie’s hand, but Sophie quickly pulled away.

Tossing the sheets aside, Sophie swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood, taking a deep breath before forcing herself across the cold floor of the bedroom to a small mirror. She hesitated before flipping the light switch, knowing she wouldn’t like what she saw in her reflection.

She was right.

When the white light washed over her, she saw a different woman staring back. Her face was flushed, and her cheeks were sunken around her jawbone. She shuddered at the view; it reminded her of the woman they had discovered in the orb back at the White Sands installation.

Splashing cool water on her face, she hunched farther over the sink, her head bowed in defeat. In a low voice, she said, “Alexia, have you heard anything from Emanuel yet?”

“I’m afraid not, Doctor Winston. I will inform you of any developments when they become available,” Alexia replied in her calm, unwavering voice.

“I need to get to the CIC and see if I can get a fix on their location.”

“No. No, you don’t, Sophie. You need to rest,” Holly said firmly. “Why don’t you tell me about your dream?”

Sophie reluctantly retreated to the bed and sat next to Holly.

“It’s okay,” Holly said, placing a hand on her friend’s. “Talking about your dreams is the only way you will understand them.”

“I don’t know if I want to understand this one. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Try me.”

With a deep breath Sophie explained. “I was in Biome 1 of Secundo Casu with Doctor Hoffman. He said they had intercepted a transmission from the Organics, and he knew the source of their intelligence. But then everything got weird.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I mean weird. The plants started dying and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. It was like he was killing them.”

Holly frowned. “You have a lot of resentment toward Doctor Hoffman for leaving us here, for lying to you.”

Sophie nodded and pulled a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “That’s an understatement.”

“Our dreams reflect what we experience in everyday life. Your hopes, your disappointments—they are all displayed in this dream.”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right,” Sophie said, taking another long breath.

“You should try and go back to sleep now.”

Sophie managed a smile and patted Holly on the shoulder. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be fine.” She lay her head back down on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the door shut behind Holly.

Long after Holly had left the room, Sophie was still staring at the ceiling, whispering to herself, over and over again, “I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine.

“No! It will render the device inoperable!” Emanuel yelled, smacking the electromagnetic pulse grenade from Overton’s hand before he had a chance to activate it.

“Get down!” Bouma yelled.

Overton tackled Emanuel and Bouma opened fire with his pulse rifle. The rounds ricocheted off the shields of the two approaching Spiders.

“Go! Get out of here!” Bouma screamed over the sound of his rifle. “Get him to higher ground!”

Overton ducked, the electric blue traces from Bouma’s bullets tearing into the Spiders’ defenses behind him. They screeched, their shields rippling where the rounds connected.

“Move!” Overton yelled, scrambling to get away from the advancing aliens.

Emanuel dove for the RVM, grabbing the straps and throwing them over his shoulders before taking off running after Overton. Bouma provided another round of covering fire and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see his teammates disappear around the street corner.

“Come on!” he taunted, and then fired another round of bullets at the Spiders. One of them let out a deafening screech. The sound echoed in Bouma’s helmet. He tried to ignore the ringing pain, but it was so disorienting that he dropped to his knees.

The two aliens crept forward, their claws dragging across the pavement.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Bouma knew the sound better than anyone. It was the sound of death.

But he wasn’t going to end up like Saafi or Timothy or Finley. He wasn’t going to die, not without a fight. A brief memory of Holly touching his shoulder flared in his mind, and the adrenaline intensified. He still owed the lady a date, and he’d be damned if he missed it.

“Come on!” he yelled again, squeezing his rifle’s trigger. The weapon responded with the metallic click of an empty magazine.

He tossed the rifle on the ground and reached for his sidearm just as one of the Spiders jumped onto the roof of the car in front of him. The creature’s claws tore into the soft metal with ease. He fired a few rounds to scare it away, but the bullets didn’t faze the creature. It seemed to know the rounds couldn’t penetrate its defenses. The Organics were learning.

The observation shocked Bouma almost as much as the metal car he ran into as he turned to run. He fell on his back and watched the upside-down shape of the two blue monsters gallop toward him.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The world slowed as he rolled to his stomach and steadied his pistol. He watched the Spiders’ claws swipe at him through the air—he saw their mandibles open and release deafening shrieks. He fired the last of his magazine, watching their shields ripple as they absorbed the impact of the bullets.

He closed his eyes in defeat, waiting for the claws to tear through his armor. But their claws never reached his flesh. His blood did not spill across the pavement. Instead, the Spiders erupted with shrieks of pain.

His eyes snapped open to see the two creatures convulsing on the ground, their legs flailing in the air, their eyes bulging from their tiny heads.

And then a brief burst of static sounded over the com. “Bouma, do you read? Over.”

Bouma tried to speak, but couldn’t catch his breath. He continued to watch the two Spiders struggle. Their legs twitched helplessly.

“Roger,” Bouma finally said, gasping for air.

“It freaking works!” Emanuel shouted over the com.

Bouma glanced one more time at the aliens as they stopped flailing and their black eyes shriveled inside their skulls. Emanuel was right. Without their shields, they were just fragile hunks of flesh.

“My God,” Bouma said. “It works better than we could’ve ever hoped.”

“Hell yeah, it does. Meet us at the lakebed, Bouma. We have some prisoners to rescue,” Overton replied.

Bouma smiled. The tide had suddenly shifted. As he walked past the dead Spiders, he considered spitting on them, but that would be a waste of water.

CHAPTER 12

A CHORUS of shrieks ripped through the night. Jeff paused at the familiar sound, but he kept his head low and continued following the marine.

The awful noises were coming from every direction. Even with his gaze fixed on the ground, he could see the bioluminescent blue glow. The color swam before his eyes like it was alive.

Another screech sounded. This one was different.

The alien sounded enraged.

Can they even feel rage?, Jeff wondered. He guessed that they could. They were just like any other animal. He stole a glance at a pack of Spiders patrolling the bluff over the lakebed. The group seemed aggravated by something. Suddenly, they were running. Their bodies illuminated the dead trees’ branches like oversized Christmas lights as they moved across the ledge. They scampered across the dirt, their talons kicking up dust clouds behind them.

In the distance, there was another sound. It took Jeff a moment to realize what it was.

Gunfire.

The sporadic pops from what sounded like pulse rifles echoed through the night. Kiel heard them too, his head turning with every shot.

The prisoners slowed to a halt, some of them snapping from their trance and scanning the lakebed. The man nearest Jeff shouted, “Can you hear that? The army has come to rescue us!”

Kiel elbowed him. “Keep your trap shut.”

“Hey!” the man protested, gripping his injured ribs.

“Keep moving,” Kiel said, cocking his head slightly to make sure Jeff was still following him.

The sound of gunfire was music to Jeff’s ears. It meant there were people out there, people like him. And they were fighting. But the noise ended almost as soon as it began.

Worse, the refugees were almost to the poles. Jeff could see the people in front of him heading uphill.

Jeff jogged up next to Kiel and nudged him. “Why did the gunfire stop?”

“I don’t know, but look, when you see me run, you run, too. Got it?”

Jeff nodded. Overhead, the poles extended into the dark sky, lighting up the beach with an eerie blue glow, like a lighthouse warning boats away. With every step he could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. They were running out of time. If Kiel was going to do something, Jeff knew he needed to do it soon.

As soon as Jeff reached the embankment the shrieks got louder. The noise was overwhelming. It sounded like every single alien was screaming. The noises reminded Jeff of a suffering wild animal, like a deer being torn to shreds by a pack of hungry wolves.

Jeff clapped his hands over his ears. Around him, the other refugees were doing the same. Panic tore through the group, and several prisoners took off running.

An elderly woman dropped to the ground in front of Jeff, whimpering in pain. “Make it stop, make it stop,” she repeated.

Jeff thought about trying to help her, but Kiel grabbed his arm. “Look at that!” he yelled over the noise.

At the edge of the beach the Spider patrol was flopping around on the dirt. Their legs clawed at the air, like an invisible enemy was attacking them.

“Now’s our chance. Run!” Kiel screamed. He took off into the darkness, away from the poles and back into the empty lakebed.

Jeff watched him go. His head was pounding, his vision getting cloudy. Everywhere people were screaming and running, dispersing in all directions. Those who weren’t fast enough fell to the ground and were trampled by the others.

A woman crashed into him, sending Jeff face-first into the dirt. Shoes raced past his head, kicking up clouds of dust. He closed his eyes and protected his head with his hands, waiting for the crush of desperate feet.

Instead, he felt a pair of strong hands grab him under the arms and yank him up.

“I told you to stick with me, kid! What do you have, a death wish?” Kiel yelled. “Now get moving!”

Jeff took off running. In the distance, he could see a pair of houses on the opposite side of the lakebed and made his way toward them. Kiel passed him a few seconds later.

“Good idea, we need to get out of the open,” the marine said.

“Wait up, Kiel!” someone screamed from behind him.

Jeff stopped, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Kiel turned to look over, his shoulder and yelled, “Thompson, where the fuck have you been?”

Behind them, a burly man with a large bald head stood hunched over, with his hands on his knees. He wore the same green fatigues as Kiel.

Gasping for breath, the man waved a hand in the air. “I’m . . . sorry,” he panted. “I got . . . separated.”

Jeff nudged Kiel’s arm. “We need to go,” he said. Everywhere he looked, the aliens’ bodies lay twisted and mangled. Were they dead? Even if they were, Jeff knew there would be more. There were always more.

“Kid’s right. We need to get out of here. Can you run?” Kiel asked.

Thompson took his hands off his knees, sucked in another deep breath, and nodded.

Kiel was running before the other marine had stood up straight. Jeff couldn’t believe how fast the guy was.

Jeff ran too, his legs kicking up a cloud of dust. It only took a few minutes for them to reach the shoreline on the opposite side of the lakebed. The trio climbed onto a small embankment, the dry weeds crunching beneath their boots. An outcrop of boulders separated them from the houses. Jeff was too short to see much beyond them, but he could see several solar panels on the rooftops protruding over the boulders. They were close to safety.

“Stay here,” Kiel said. He took off in a sprint toward the houses.

Jeff watched him vanish into the darkness, wishing he had his rifle. He felt naked without it. Dragging his forearm across his forehead, he wiped a trail of sweat off his face. Then, he took off running, leaving Thompson resting against the boulders.

“Kid. Wait up!” the man protested.

Jeff ignored him and ran as fast as he could. It only took him a few seconds to find Kiel. He was standing in the shadows of the first house. The modern three-story building was covered in windows and overlooked the lakebed. Jeff watched Kiel move on.

The second house was an older brick structure, surrounded by a curtain of dense pine trees. Their green needles had long since browned and fallen to the cracked earth below.

Kiel turned when he heard Jeff’s footfalls crunching over the ground.

“I told you to stay put,” Kiel snarled.

“I’m not freaking waiting back there,” Jeff replied with a frown. “Besides, I can keep up.”

The marine regarded him with a cocked brow, his bulbous nose twitching. Jeff almost laughed, but thought better of it. After all, this man had helped him escape.

“Let’s move,” Kiel said with a snort.

Winded, Jeff pushed on, following Kiel to the west side of the house. Camouflaged by the darkness, Kiel peeked around the corner before balling his hand into a fist. Jeff couldn’t see the marine’s face, but the shaking of his hand was enough for the boy to know he had seen something.

Jeff hung back. Behind him, he heard the heavy breathing of Thompson, who had caught up with them and braced himself against the brick wall.

“Why . . . are . . . we stopped?” he asked between breaths.

Before Kiel could reply, Jeff heard the sound that frightened him the most.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

It was distant at first, but grew louder with every heartbeat.

“Move!” Overton yelled into his com. He could hear the scraping of the Spiders behind him but didn’t risk the second it would take to glance over his shoulder. Emanuel’s weapon had killed every Organic within a one-mile radius, but others had quickly shown up to avenge their friends.

Overton scanned the street desperately for an escape route. He wasn’t about to leave his men in the field, but he also wasn’t any good to them dead. His plan was to lose the aliens and circle around to find Thompson, Kiel, and Jeff.

There.

At the end of the street a school bus had fishtailed, blocking the route like a blood clot in an artery. That was where they would make their stand. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a large pack of Spiders had joined the chase. He’d faced worse odds before by himself; a dozen of the bastards weren’t going to stop him from rescuing his men.

“Get inside the bus. I’ll hold them off,” Overton shouted, dropping to his left knee. With a single motion he swung his rifle to his shoulder, aimed through the sight, and fired off a volley of shots toward the approaching monsters.

As the bullets ricocheted off the Spiders’ defenses, his stomach sank. Their shields were still active. Overton knew he wasn’t as smart as Sophie or Emanuel. This, he accepted. But he had something they didn’t: killer instinct. He dropped his rifle, reached for one of the electromagnetic grenades, and pushed the small red button on the side.

Click.

He tossed the device into the air, watching it through his HUD as it sailed toward the aliens. They scampered forward, unaware that they were about to receive a massive shock. Overton was running before the grenade hit the ground. A brief flash of light filled his HUD as he burst through the open bus door. Blinking, he stuffed his armored body into one of the seats and jammed his rifle out the window just as one of the Spiders crashed into the side of the bus.

The impact jolted Overton backward into the aisle. He fumbled for his rifle as he landed on his back with a thud.

“Shoot them! Shoot them now!”

With their HUDs down and weapons low on ammo, Emanuel and Bouma fired off calculated shots, aiming strictly for the creatures’ heads. Within seconds the outside of the bus was covered in watery gore.

By the time Overton had regained his composure, the aliens were dead. And he hadn’t even fired a single shot. He turned from the window and surveyed his men. He couldn’t see their faces through the tinted visors, but he knew what lay behind the glass.

Fear.

If it weren’t for the adrenaline racing through his veins, he would be feeling the same thing. But he didn’t have time for that.

“We need to find the survivors before another patrol finds us. Take a minute to let your HUDs reboot. Grab some nutrition, and then we’re out of here,” Overton said.

Bouma reached for a new magazine and jammed it home into his rifle. “Last one.”

“How long until your device is recharged?” Overton asked.

Emanuel plopped the metal device onto the seat and examined its side. Glancing up, he said, “Something’s wrong. Only four of the nine bars are lit. It’s not recharging as fast as I thought it would.”

Overton felt his stomach sink. He knew how fucked they were if the weapon didn’t come back online. He tilted his helmet and scanned the street. A soft, cool blue beam of light pulsated at the end of the street as the aliens approached. He could hear their claws now—the gut-wrenching scratch, scrape of their impending doom. Overton clenched his teeth. He knew he was running out of time to save the others.

CHAPTER 13

SOPHIE studied the branches of a maturing apple tree in Biome 1. Green leaves rustled slightly in the breeze of a hidden vent unit far above her. In less than a month, the tree had doubled in size, and would soon be producing fruit.

It was nothing short of a miracle, but for Sophie the sight was painful. The vibrant green of the leaves and crisp brown bark reminded her of what had been lost outside the safety of the Biosphere. It reminded her she would never again see lush forests or fields of crops. More than anything, it reminded her of the reason she was there in the Biosphere in the first place. The Earth had been dying for decades; the Organics were just finishing what her species had begun.

Dr. Hoffman—the real Dr. Hoffman, not the monster from her dreams—had said that the Biospheres were humanity’s final hope. He had planted them across the world so that after the Organics had left, the human race could sprout and flourish again.

Dr. Hoffman had made a fatal miscalculation. The Biospheres would never survive. The Organics would drain the planet of all water, leaving it a desolate and uninhabitable wasteland. Even inside the Biospheres, humanity would shrivel and die. The only way to ensure the human race’s survival was to fight back.

Sophie stuffed her hands in her pockets and continued across the platform, sucking in the sweet scent of oranges and basking in the cool, crisp air. A faint rustling noise emanated from the crops, and she turned. The kids had taken to playing hide-and-seek between the cornstalks.

“Hello?” she shouted. “Is someone there?”

A hoarse whisper responded. “Doctor Winston.”

The voice was familiar, but oddly distant.

“Who’s there?” Sophie entreated.

This time there was no response.

She shook her head. Was she starting to lose it? Or were the phantom noises and voices real?

“I said who’s there!” She jumped off the platform with a sudden burst of courage. Standing on her toes, she desperately searched over the tips of the crops, but saw nothing.

“Over here, Doctor Winston,” said the deep voice. This time it was behind her. She turned. A figure stood outside the sealed front entrance leading to the hallways beyond Biome 1. It was Dr. Hoffman.

“You aren’t real,” Sophie shouted, closing her eyes. “You aren’t . . .”

Another voice cut her off. “Sophie?”

Her heart sank as she opened her eyes and turned to see Holly standing at the opposite end of the Biome.

“Sweetie, who are you talking to?”

Sophie glanced over her shoulder one more time to ensure Dr. Hoffman was gone, and then focused her gaze on the apple tree just as a single brown leaf fluttered to the ground.

The mess hall was deathly silent. Holly sat sipping tea, savoring the flavor. With no way of telling how much longer their NTC supplies would last, she didn’t want to waste a single mouthful.

“How are the kids?” asked Sophie. The voice startled Holly and caused her to knock over her mug. She fumbled for it, but it was too late. A small river of brown liquid raced across the table. Before she could stop it, the tea began to drip onto the floor.

Sophie strolled up to Holly’s side, and the two looked down at the mess. There was a time when neither of them would have thought much of it. But now the mere sight of wasted water was enough to make them both cringe.

“I’m to the point where I’m honestly considering drinking that,” Holly said.

“No, you aren’t,” Sophie responded firmly. “We have food and water to last months. Maybe even longer.”

Holly grimaced. “But we don’t have much tea.”

“You can live without caffeine, Holly.”

The psychologist frowned and made her way to the kitchen to the stainless-steel cabinet. Inside, there was a single jar of tea packets, individually sealed. She rummaged through the container, counting eleven in all.

Slamming the door shut, she grabbed a plastic cup and walked back into the mess hall, where Sophie was waiting.

“Where’s the towel?” asked Sophie.

Holly ignored her and crouched down over the puddle, slowly scooping the liquid into the cup.

“Holly, what are you doing?”

She continued scooping the tea into the cup with her index finger. She could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the moment.

“I asked you a question.”

“We need to save everything we can,” Holly said. “I know it’s silly, but tea is the one thing that I have left connecting me to the old world. It’s the one thing that makes me feel . . .” She paused to search for the right words. “It makes me feel like I can still have part of my old life.”

Sophie didn’t reply, but Holly felt her stare. When she finally finished, she rose to her feet and placed the cup in front of Sophie.

“These are the things we need to make sure we savor,” Holly said. “Without the small pleasures from the old world, we’ll slowly devolve into . . .”

“Into what?”

Holly shook her head. “Sophie, why did you hire me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“If you really trust me, then you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“Okay,” Sophie said crossing her arms.

“We are in week six of this mission, or whatever you want to call it. I’ve been monitoring everyone’s behavior. Yours especially.”

“Go on,” Sophie said cautiously.

“You are slowly becoming a different person. This is common in apocalyptic scenarios. Long-term violence can have strange effects on leaders with strong moral convictions. Good people, good leaders.” She paused. “Good leaders like you.”

“And you think I’m becoming a bad person?”

“Not at all,” Holly replied. “That isn’t what I’m saying. You have so much to worry about. Our food supply. Our safety. Emanuel, Jeff, David. Everyone. You’re trying to figure out the Organics, and on top of all that, you’re still suffering from nightmares. This is too much for anyone to bear. Eventually, you will crack.”

Sophie stiffened. “What are you suggesting, Doctor Brown?”

Holly sighed. “You’re missing the point. I’m simply trying to say you need to be cognizant of the actions of people around you. Have you been watching Sergeant Overton?”

Sophie seemed to relax at this. “A little bit.”

“Have you even noticed Bouma and I . . .”

“Yes. I’ve noticed,” Sophie said with a smile. “Okay, I get what you’re saying. I need to pay closer attention to the team. But I don’t think we’re quite desperate yet. We aren’t animals; we don’t drink tea off the table.”

Holly nodded sheepishly. “It’s late, Sophie. We should get to bed. I’m going to check on the kids one more time.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sophie asked.

“No, I’ll be fine. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Holly felt Sophie’s gaze on her back as she walked out of the room. As soon as she left the room Holly could have sworn she heard something that sounded a lot like a plastic cup being tossed into the trash.

ENTRY 2019

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

Seventeen sensors have gone off in the past twenty-four hours; the Biosphere has several critical issues. Even with the front entrance sealed, contaminants are finding their way inside. I’ve isolated the problem to the air duct the Spiders hibernated in weeks ago, and I’ve already deployed the last autobot to deal with the problem.

Besides the pollutants, I’ve been busy monitoring what remains of the team. As the hours pass, the program I use to calculate the possibility of their survival slowly ticks away. With Sergeant Overton, Corporal Bouma, and Dr. Rodriguez out in the field, the Biosphere is left virtually unprotected. Even with the main RVM device functioning at 95 percent, the Organics have still found ways to penetrate the facility.

I’m worried.

No, that isn’t the correct word. I’m afraid that if the Biosphere is compromised, the others will die. The children. Dr. Winston. Dr. Brown. Everyone. As I have changed, I have grown attached to them.

From the millions of programs I’ve downloaded on human emotion, I am beginning to understand a simple term.

Helpless.

Without the marines, Dr. Winston and Dr. Brown are completely dependent on the RVM protecting the facility.

Survival seems impossible. And the team is beginning to see that. In between cleaning toxins and rerouting power, I have observed all the team members’ actions. They are losing hope. They are beginning to understand the reality of the situation.

No one is coming to help them.

CHAPTER 14

ALEX ran. He ran faster than he would have thought possible, his muscles stretching, groaning. Protesting with every motion.

He was back on the beach, surrounded by Spiders. And they were gaining on him.

Alex could feel the pulsing in his head, could feel the blood pumping through his veins. He struggled to breathe. Puffs of hot air escaped from his chapped lips. His head bobbed up and down as he ran. Without his helmet, he had a much wider view of his surroundings. And with that view came the terrifying understanding that he was being hunted.

There were so many of them. Hundreds, if not thousands, chasing him from every direction. Their skin glowed in the darkness, turning the beach into one massive night-light. Fifteen more heartbeats and he was at the water’s edge.

A group of Spiders advanced, theirs claws tearing through the sand. They were close. So close he could hear their legs whooshing through the air.

There was nowhere to run.

He closed his eyes and turned back to the ocean. The waves crashed against the shoreline. A brief moment of clarity washed over him. He felt completely alone. Just him and the endless expanse of the ocean.

Only it wasn’t as endless as it had once been. He moved his foot and saw the squishy carcass of an oarfish. Normally the giant fish lived in deep waters, which meant the ocean had receded even farther than he had thought.

He turned to see that the Spiders had nearly reached him. He closed his eyes again. Sucked in a breath. Did he really want to keep running? Did he want to try and escape again? Or was it time to accept his fate and let them take him?

A half a second was all it took. The Spiders finally caught up to him and pulled him to the ground. He felt their cold pincers pushing into his chest, almost rhythmically. Saw their beady eyes boring into his. He opened his mouth to scream . . . but instead coughed up a mouthful of water.

“He’s going to be okay!” a voice cheered above him.

The Spiders’ claws were still pushing on his chest, and he waved his arm to force them away.

“Give him some space,” someone ordered in a rough voice.

Alex coughed up another stream of water and struggled to open his eyes. His fear faded as he realized that there had been no Spiders. Instead, a man in a white doctor’s coat was bent over him. Two more faces stood in the background.

The man with the rough voice stepped forward.

“You’re a hell of a long way from Edwards Air Force Base,” he said. “If it weren’t for that radio, we would never have found you.” The man looked down at him with hazel eyes. “You okay?” he asked, snapping his fingers in front of Alex’s face.

The man’s words repeated several times in his head before Alex understood what they meant. He looked down at the drenched radio, relieved to see the screen still glowing. He smiled and blinked the final bits of salt water out of his eyes. With unclouded vision, he saw the letters embroidered on their fleeces.

NTC.

His joy quickly turned to anger, and he scooted away from the men across the wet metal deck on his hands.

These men worked for the company that had hired him for the Biosphere mission—a mission that had almost gotten him killed. They were no better than the Organics hunting him on the beach.

Closing his eyes, he fell back against the cold surface of the submarine bulkhead and laughed bitterly. Just when he thought he was safe—just when he thought the word might still have meaning after all.

Sergeant Overton cursed. If it weren’t for the gathering Spiders, he would have rescued Jeff and his men and maybe even had time to find another pack of cigarettes. Now the survivors had scattered across the field in all directions.

He kicked the corpse of one of the aliens and then raised his .45 into the air. It would draw the other Organics’ attention, but he had no choice. He fired off two rounds.

The red heat signatures of several freed prisoners halted at the west end of the lakebed. They turned in his direction.

“Come on,” Overton muttered.

Over his shoulder, he saw Bouma slip behind the cover of a tree, his rifle aimed toward the survivors, just in case.

The sergeant watched as the group began running toward him. Was it Kiel? Thompson? He counted three figures, two larger ones and that of a child. Had Jeff somehow linked up with the marines? If he had, then he was even smarter than Overton had given him credit for.

When the first survivor stepped into full view, Overton almost dropped to his knees. He recognized the man’s bulb nose and short frame instantly. He quickly removed his filthy helmet so the younger marine would recognize him.

“Private Kiel!” Overton shouted, disguising his emotion with formality.

“Holy shit. What the hell are you doing here? And why are you wearing an NTC uniform?” Kiel asked, moving closer. The other two figures emerged from the darkness.

“Thompson, is that you?” Overton asked, recognizing the man’s wide shoulders.

The burly man nodded and shuffled to the side to reveal another figure. Blinking, Overton focused on the face. Overton couldn’t believe his eyes. Jeff’s small chiseled chin tilted up toward him. He’d never been so happy to see a kid in his life.

“You came to rescue us?” Jeff asked.

Overton glanced down, overwhelmed. “Semper fi, or ‘Always faithful’ is the marines’ motto for a reason.”

Even in the dim light, Overton could see a smile sneak across the boy’s face. It was just a hint of one, but it was there. He scanned the boy quickly for injuries. The kid looked tired and dirty but otherwise unharmed. Overton reached out as if he wanted to hug the boy, but instead he patted Jeff on the back.

Rising to his feet, the sergeant looked from Jeff to his other men. “How the hell did you guys link up?”

Jeff shook his head. “No time to talk. We need to get out of here.”

Overton almost laughed. The kid had balls, barking orders at him. He was really starting to like Jeff.

“He’s right. Let’s move,” Bouma said.

“Wait,” Overton replied, suddenly serious again. “Did anyone else from the squad make it out alive?”

“No,” Kiel said. “We’re it. There are other survivors from the farm, but I think they ran when they heard the gunfire,” he said, spinning to point at the field behind them.

Overton nodded and then stepped toward the road. “All right,” he said. “Well then, in order to stay alive we need to get to the Humvee.”

Thompson smiled. “That sounds fucking awesome to me.”

“How’s the RVAMP doing?” Overton asked.

Emanuel swung the device from his back to his chest and checked the power meter. He made a thumbs-up a second later, but Overton wasn’t sure if he could trust him.

Taking in a measured breath, Overton decided he had no other choice.

Bouma scouted up ahead while the rest of them hid behind the bed of a pickup truck.

A few seconds later a burst of static sounded over the radio. “All clear,” Bouma said.

Overton didn’t respond; he simply slipped into the shadows and with a nod motioned for the others to follow him.

They headed toward a cul-de-sac lined with cookie-cutter houses. In the darkness, they looked normal enough—little white fences lining their yards, brick chimneys, and solar panels. But as he got closer, he could see the mark of the Organics.

The street reeked of death. Rotting sacks of skin sat in front of orbs that had all but dissolved. The fresh corpses of Spiders littered the street, some of them still twitching. Overton’s stomach lurched.

A shriek somewhere in the distance snapped him back to reality. He slipped behind the safety of an empty vehicle. He could see the dark outline of Bouma’s helmet peeking out from behind a tree a hundred yards or so in front of him. Once the sound faded away, Overton cautiously pulled himself up and sprinted toward Bouma’s position, patting the marine on his helmet to inform him of his presence.

Then he was moving. Slow and cautious, one foot in front of the other. Toe to heel, just like he’d been trained to do so many years ago. It took him three seconds to get to the adjacent house. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, Overton tightly gripped the trigger of his pulse rifle and peered around the side.

Nothing moved.

The road beyond was clear of contacts, only corpses and deflated orbs. He exhaled and flashed an advance signal to the others. The sound of their footfalls rang out through the night and moments later they were rounding the next corner. As they made their escape Overton realized that finding his men wasn’t just luck. It was fate. The world needed him—the world needed marines.

CHAPTER 15

SOPHIE lay awake in her empty room and scanned the ceiling panels. She traced their outlines as her thoughts drifted uncontrollably. Her legs thrashed as she tried to find a comfortable position, but it was no use. Her mind and body were restless.

Sitting up, Sophie moaned. Her mind betrayed her when she was awake and when she was asleep. There was no escaping it. She felt trapped in her own head, and to make things even worse, she was starting to feel like a prisoner in the Biosphere. Ever since Emanuel, Overton, and Bouma had left, she’d felt like her room was a jail cell.

Fumbling, Sophie reached for the light switch. A bright glow instantly warmed the room. But it did not diminish the feeling of darkness she felt creeping into her thoughts. The panic of not knowing what Emanuel and the others were facing outside the walls—the fear that uncertainty brought with it.

“They’ll be back soon,” said a voice in the hallway. She turned to see Holly standing in the open doorway, a mug of tea in her hand. She must have seen Sophie’s light turn on.

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Holly said, strolling across the floor and taking a seat next to Sophie.

“They should be back by now. They’ve been gone almost forty-eight hours,” Sophie replied.

“Overton likes to play things safe. He’s probably moving slowly to make sure everything goes smoothly. He’s a recon marine, not infantry. Bouma was very clear about the difference.” Holly smiled and looked over at her. “Don’t worry, they’re coming back. You should try and get some sleep.”

Sophie shook her head and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Standing, she stretched and let out a yawn. “I should try and work. It’s the only thing that gets my mind off what’s happening out there.”

“Sophie, you can’t keep going on like this,” Holly complained, holding up a hand to stop her.

Sliding past her reach, Sophie smiled. “I’m fine. Really. Besides, there’s something I want to check in the mainframe. It’s not like I’m going to get any sleep, anyway.”

Before Holly could protest further, Sophie slipped into the hallway. She felt bad leaving her there. She knew Holly was only trying to help. But there wasn’t anything the psychologist could do for her. Not anymore.

The cool glow of blue LEDs greeted Sophie as she neared the CIC. She knew the light source was from the screens and not an alien presence, but the sight still gave her pause.

“Is there anything I can assist you with tonight, Doctor Winston?” Alexia asked as the glass doors slid open and Sophie walked into the room.

Sophie took a seat at one of the terminals.

“I know you have access to classified information,” Sophie began.

Alexia’s holographic image emerged over the console closest to Sophie. “What kind of information are you looking for, Doctor Winston?”

“Upload everything you have on Eve to the mainframe.”

Less than a second later, the monitor in front of Sophie glowed to life, and a stream of data began running across the screen. It was just a jumble of numbers and letters.

“This is all encrypted,” Sophie said. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for a mug of stale coffee that she’d left on the desk earlier. She grimaced at the bitter taste, but she kept sipping it as the data on the screen slowly became legible.

Unidentified drone found submerged. Structure of craft consists of unknown elements.

Sophie scanned the information. It was all stuff she already knew. Come on, give me something I can work with, she thought.

Preliminary scans show that the ship has an advanced defense mechanism. Without the protection of the shield, the outside of the craft begins to break down and corrode. We are keeping it frozen to slow down the process.

Initial tests indicate the craft, which we have named Eve, is just a drone. We haven’t yet been able to determine what is controlling the ship, if anything . . .

Preliminary scanning of the damage shows the ship is largely intact, but the crash rendered the device inoperable. Our initial hypothesis is that the craft was destroyed after being submerged in the water.

There wasn’t anything here that she didn’t already know. There had to be more.

Shaking her head, she got up and stretched. It was after midnight, but if the previous two nights were any indication, she wouldn’t be getting any rest anyway.

“Doctor Winston, you look very fatigued.”

Sophie held her stretch before glancing at Alexia’s hologram. “I’ll be fine. Download everything regarding Eve to my private terminal. And start the automatic coffee dispenser; I’m going to be up for a while.”

Alexia’s image faded and the room grew dim. Reaching for her mug, Sophie slugged down the last of the coffee. With a scowl she put the cup down, rubbed her eyes, and returned her attention to the screen. The facts and figures calmed her like nothing else, and she lost herself in her work.

August 1st, 2056: Biopsies of the bonelike structure inside Eve are being sent to the New Tech Biolab in Maryland. We hope to identify any new elements and organic materials.

After an hour of going over the data, Sophie found that it was getting more difficult to keep her eyes open. The caffeine had worn off.

“Your coffee is ready in the mess hall,” Alexia said.

With a sigh, Sophie slid out of her chair. Just as she was about to leave, a familiar name on the screen caught her eye.

August 15th, 2056: Eve is being transferred to the New Tech Corporation headquarters in Los Angeles, California. Request comes from the top. Dr. Hoffman has ordered all tests performed at this lab be classified. The results of the biopsies will be sent directly to LA. This will be my last entry.

—Dr. Tsui

Sophie gasped. Why had Dr. Tsui, the leader of the solar weather team in Houston during the solar storms of 2055, been tasked with studying Eve? He was an astronomer, not a biologist. And even more important, why did Dr. Hoffman have the information classified and sent to LA?

Completely forgetting about the waiting coffee, she rolled her chair over to another set of monitors.

“Alexia, do you have schematics for Eve?”

There was a single second of hesitation before Alexia’s hologram reemerged on the console next to Sophie. “I’m sorry, Doctor Winston, but that information is not available in my database.”

Sophie paused. There were dozens of thoughts running through her mind, and with her fatigue, it was difficult to make sense of anything. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before returning to the screen to reread the data.

Request comes from the top. Dr. Hoffman has ordered all tests performed at this lab be classified . . .

Another blink. Longer this time, her eyelids heavier.

Initial tests indicate the craft . . . is just a drone. We haven’t yet been able to determine what is controlling the ship, if anything . . .

The words began blending together, and she slowly closed her eyes. Crossing her arms on the desk, she bent down and rested her chin on them. Only for a minute, she thought, letting the darkness wash over her.

Thirty seconds later, she was asleep.

An explosion of blue light consumed Sophie. It was so powerful, so intense, that it even blocked out the sun.

Squinting, she took a step forward, her boot crushing something beneath it. She looked down to see bones. Not just any bones, but human bones. And they were small. It only took a moment to realize she was looking at a child’s remains.

She bent down to examine them. There was something lying next to it—something she recognized. A piece of cloth. A blanket.

David’s blanket.

Sophie crashed to her knees, a cloud of dust detonating under her. Scooping up the blanket, she pulled it to her chest. “David, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

Soon the filthy blanket was wet with tears. She tried to look away from the bones but couldn’t. One of the loose ribs blew away in a sudden gust of wind.

Clutching the blanket against her chest, she screamed. Something began to build inside her—a feeling that she had suppressed for so long. It had almost destroyed her after the solar storms of 2055.

She’d had enough of the death, enough of the loss.

All she felt was anger.

Wiping away the tears, she wrapped up David’s remains in the blanket and set them softly on the dusty ground. Then she began walking toward the source of the light. She had no doubt what she would find at the other end of the blue beam. The Organics had killed David and would soon kill her.

With her hand steady over her eyes, she could finally make out the source of the light. It was a craft hovering silently over the barren earth.

Her walk turned into a jog and then into a run as the ship came into focus. The sides were black and sleek, almost wet-looking, like a killer whale.

As she got closer, a wind gust stung her bare arms with sand and debris. While she tried to regain her balance, the blue light popped off like a lightbulb blowing a circuit. With the glare from the light gone, she saw the ship in its entirety.

The craft was massive, larger than any she had ever seen. And it was just hovering there. The engineering was unusual, and felt alien—no windows, no wings, and nothing that would indicate it could fly. For a second she felt completely exposed. She remembered the night she’d spent with Emanuel during the solar storms, entwined with his body, imagining it was the last night of their lives. She wished he were there with her now. What would he want her to do? Run?

No, he would tell her to examine the ship, to study it. They were scientists, after all. They had traded their families and futures for a life dedicated to science. Discovery was everything to them.

With a sudden burst of energy, she ran up the hill, loose rocks kicking up behind her. As she climbed, she began to grasp how large the ship really was. She was an ant compared to the monstrosity. And even though there was no signal the craft had spotted her, she felt the overwhelming sense of being watched. The sensation did not deter her. She had to know what was inside, and where it came from.

Pushing forward, she climbed to the hilltop. She was directly underneath the ship now, stopping to stare intensely at its glossy, black skin. It was smooth and glistened in the sunlight. She’d always imagined alien spaceships would have some similarities to human ships, but looking up, she realized that she had been completely wrong. This craft was alien in every way.

Fascinating, she thought as she stumbled through the loose sand to get a better look. There appeared to be some sort of oval engraving near the middle of its underbelly. She scooped up a rock, palming its warm weight for a moment. Then she tossed it, watching it sail toward the ship and expecting some sort of force field to stop it in midair. To her surprise, the rock kept going until it lost momentum and fell back down to the sand.

She stood there, expecting something to happen—almost wanting something to happen.

She didn’t have to wait long. A piercing sound erupted from the ship, and the oval section cracked open, bleeding light. Sophie’s excitement faded as the sound intensified, forcing her to cover her ears. Fear drowned out what had moments earlier been exhilaration. A single beam of light shot out of the opening and captured her, spinning her around and pulling her toward the ship. She struggled briefly but knew it was no use. After seeing so many others caught in the same trap, she knew there was no escape.

The only consolation was that she would finally get to see whatever was inside the ship. She would finally get to see the real Organics, the intelligent force behind the invasion that had claimed billions of lives in a matter of weeks.

As the beam pulled her higher, she thought of Emanuel again. A smile broke across her face. She knew he would be proud of her, still curious until the end.

The trip only took a few seconds, and she found herself inside the massive ship before she had time to grasp what was actually happening. Her fear had washed away. The remnants of excitement had vanished, too. She was peculiarly at peace.

The blinding blue light appeared again. As soon as she’d been pulled inside the bay, it consumed her. The brilliant rays seemed to be coming from all around her, like she was in the middle of some sort of halo.

Then, with a massive mechanical click, the light shut off. It was replaced with a softer glow, a cool glow. Before she could identify this new light source, the beam dropped her onto a platform hovering in the dead center of the craft.

She landed softly and rolled to a stop at the edge of the sleek oval stage. As she spun, she saw the interior of the ship was lit by thousands of glowing orbs. They were everywhere, their skin emitting the blue light.

Sophie flinched when the platform below her creaked and lurched forward. The cold metal glided toward the north wall of the ship, headed straight for a cluster of orbs.

Sophie held on to the side of the stage and looked down, her hair blowing as the platform picked up speed. There was no way to tell exactly how far the drop was, but she knew instinctively that a fall would be fatal.

She slowly crawled away from the edge and sat on the cold metal, watching the orbs get closer with increasing fascination. They sparkled like tiny jewels, but their beautiful exteriors, she knew, contained unthinkable things. She suddenly imagined the prisoners she’d seen before. The woman at White Sands, the man in Colorado Springs, their distorted faces and frail bodies. The memories chilled her to the core.

Sophie thought she knew what would be inside the orbs. She assumed that they would contain more human prisoners, but she was wrong. The platform stopped within arm’s reach of the nearest cluster. Cautiously, she pulled herself closer to the edge and strained to get a better look. At first she couldn’t quite make out the shape inside the orb. But whatever it was, she knew it wasn’t human.

The noise from the platform must have disturbed it. A flutter from inside the sphere startled Sophie, and she scrambled on her hands and knees away from the ledge. The orb began to ripple, cracking down the center. Blue goo bled from the opening and dripped into the darkness below.

Sophie waited.

The crack widened, and the orb split open. The alien that emerged was so different from anything she had seen it was hard for her mind to grasp. She blinked to assure herself it was real. The creature had no face. No eyes, no mouth. Just a stem sticking out where a nose should be. Orange petals surrounded the head, which snaked down and connected to a red bioluminescent torso.

It was . . . beautiful.

For what seemed like an hour, she sat there studying it, watching the petals curl back, straighten, and then curl again, as if it were breathing.

Turning to examine the next orb, she saw a very different creature inside. This one reminded her of a miniature Christmas tree, with bulblike lights hanging off purple branches. The adjacent orb contained an alien blob of red flesh with spikes lining its egg-shaped body.

It was then Sophie realized she was inside a cargo ship. An alien Noah’s Ark, more than likely filled with species the Organics had collected as they had gone from world to world, collecting water and moving on.

Of course, she thought. What arrogance it had been to assume that Earth was the first world they had visited and drained dry.

An alarm screamed, the sound echoing off the walls. Sophie gripped her ears and bent down to put her head between her knees. By the time it finally dissipated, her ears were pulsing with pain.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the first orb. The beautiful orange petals had discolored to a crusty brown. The stem had shriveled, and the torso was shrinking.

Another explosion came from the orb right in front of her. She looked up to see its skin peeling away, revealing the dying alien within. It was then she saw the tube at the bottom of the sphere, hooked up to the creature’s torso. The tube gulped the remaining liquid from the alien and then retracted into the ship’s wall.

Sophie reached out to help, but quickly stumbled and fell. She watched as the flower-shaped alien shriveled like a plant under a scorching sun.

Before Sophie had time to move, the alien disappeared out of the bottom of the orb. She scrambled to the end of the platform and watched an oval-shaped hole open in the bottom of the ship. The alien’s dried body fluttered down until it vanished from sight.

She gasped, her hand cupping her face. If this was an ark, then why had the ship sucked the alien dry?

It was all too much to comprehend, and Sophie pushed herself to her feet. The platform abruptly shook in protest, throwing her off balance.

Sophie let out a cry as she fell over the side. She flailed her arms, desperately searching for something to hold on to.

Below, she could see the tiny opening approaching. Bracing herself, she closed her eyes and waited for impact. In seconds her ruined body would lie mangled next to David’s remains, and the remains of the flower alien.

CHAPTER 16

THE rap of footfalls beating across the pavement was louder than Overton would have liked. He turned his head to see the ragtag squad of men following him.

Only half of them had night vision, and with nothing but moonlight to guide the others, they stumbled along like they were blind. It was a sorry sight, and Overton cringed every time one of them banged into a car or tripped on a curb.

As they navigated around the twists and turns of empty houses Overton realized there was no way in hell they were going to make it another two blocks to the Humvee without being spotted.

“Emanuel, how’s the charge on the, um, magnet thing?”

“The RVAMP?” Emanuel replied over the com. Overton watched him look down at the power meter. “Halfway there.”

“Good. The Humvee should be close, but I don’t want to get caught in the open with our pants down.”

Jeff snickered.

Overhead a drone raced across the sky, leaving a white streak amongst the thousands of stars. Overton hit the ground, ducking for cover. Thompson dove behind a car, crashing into the bumper. The crunching sound of his thick skull breaking the plastic made Overton flinch—not because he was concerned for the man’s well-being, but because the sound could attract enemy attention. He knew Thompson had one of the thickest skulls of any marine in the corp.

The empty vehicles scattered across the street provided plenty of cover, and each team member found a place to hide. Overton placed his back against a car door.

He listened for any sign of the aliens. Somewhere in the distance a downed power line whined in the breeze. To his right a glass door tapped against its frame. The owner hadn’t bothered to close it, or hadn’t had time.

The sounds sent a chill down Overton’s spine. A quick sweep of the area revealed the same scene he’d seen in the rest of the city. The once upscale neighborhood had been taken over by dust. Remnants of orbs littered the concrete. They were in the middle of some sort of dead zone—a staging area where the Spiders had taken the initial survivors on invasion day and turned them into orbs.

Truthfully, it was hard for Overton to grasp just how many Spiders, Worms, Sentinels, and God knows what other creatures were out there. The very thought of the slimy bastards enraged him.

After a second more of silence, he shot a hand signal to Bouma, who relayed the gesture to the rest of the squad. It was time to move on. He led the team through the shadows, using the houses as protection.

At the end of the street he could see the outline of the Humvee. It was too early to smile in relief, but Overton grinned anyway.

Almost there.

Bursting around the final front yard, he moved into the street, waving his team on. “Let’s go,” he whispered over the channel.

They had made it halfway to the truck when the scraping of claws echoed on the concrete behind him. It was faint at first, and Overton hoped it was just Jeff or Kiel brushing up against a car door, but deep down he knew what made the sound.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, Overton saw a hazy but distinct blue flickering behind them.

Quickly he checked the distance between the team and the Humvee. It was too far. They would never make it.

“Down,” Overton muttered. He dropped to the ground and crawled under the nearest truck. The others followed suit, ducking for cover where they could, hiding behind anything that might shield them.

“Hold position,” Overton whispered over the open net. He watched Bouma bring a finger to his mouth and silence the men who didn’t have access to the channel. They were a few yards back but seemed to understand.

Next, the sergeant continued crawling under the vehicle, his helmet scratching across the chassis. Wincing, he struggled to get a view of their six, where he’d seen the light.

He pulled his rifle close to his chest. Ever so carefully, he raised the scope to his visor, where it linked up with his HUD, and waited for the image to focus. What he saw paralyzed him. Dozens of contacts. Fifty. Maybe more. The end of the block was teeming with the creatures.

After a full career in recon, he knew better than anyone when to fight and when to run. This was not a time to make a stand.

“Emanuel, get that weapon ready! Everyone move!” Overton’s voice carried down the street and mixed with the shrieks of a dozen Spiders, which had climbed onto the tops of houses, cars, and trees in every direction.

Overton didn’t waste any time. Once he was on his feet, he took a single electromagnetic grenade and tossed it into the air.

“That’ll slow ’em down,” he grunted.

The squad zigzagged through the suburban street, dodging cars and jumping over plastic trash bins and lumps of fleshy gore. They made it to the Humvee just as a brilliant flash from the grenade knocked out their HUDs.

Overton grabbed the driver’s door and snapped around to make sure all his men were accounted for. Three large, two small—they were all there.

“Get us the hell out of here!” Kiel screamed, sliding into the backseat.

Thompson grabbed Jeff and boosted him into the Humvee. The big marine climbed in behind him while Emanuel jumped in the passenger seat. Bouma jumped in just as the engine roared to life.

Overton finally allowed himself to breathe and stomped on the pedal as if it were a poisonous spider. Twisting the wheel to the right, he steered the truck up onto a curb, smashing into three of the closest Spiders.

“Watch out!” Jeff yelled as another one of the creatures lunged off a rooftop and landed on the Humvee. Overton pushed down on the gas and they fishtailed; the alien scrambled, its talons sliding across the hood until one of them hooked into the soft metal.

“Go, go, go!” Thompson screamed. He pounded his fist on Overton’s headrest.

When the tires stopped squealing, the truck lurched forward and Overton steered it back onto the street. The Spider let out a deafening screech of pain. Two of its legs were trapped under the front of the vehicle. With one of its free legs, it swiped at the windshield. The glass shattered as the alien tore it away and launched the pane into the night.

“Shoot it! Someone shoot it!” Kiel yelled from the backseat.

Overton ducked as the Spider swiped through the open windshield with another claw. Throwing on the brakes, he sent the creature flying backward, two of its claws still stuck in the hood. The limbs ripped from its body, spraying blue goo in all directions. Overton didn’t waste any time smashing into the injured creature with the truck’s brush guard. The alien’s shrieks sent a thrill through him as he sped down the street, the Spider still stuck underneath the truck.

He snorted a laugh. “Having fun yet?”

Only Jeff laughed.

Taking a hard left, Overton pulled the Humvee onto the highway, and the Spiders finally disappeared from sight.

The sound of labored breathing filled the vehicle.

“Everyone okay back there?” Overton spun to check on his team.

Kiel nodded. “Jesus, man. That was close.”

“Seems to always be like that with this guy,” Emanuel said. He shook his head and turned to look out the window.

Jeff climbed up to look out the back window. “Holy crap! I can’t believe we made it out of there. Thanks for not forgetting about me.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Like you said, I owed you one.”

Jeff chuckled and sat back down. He reached for a seat belt and clicked in.

“Where the hell are we going?” asked Thompson, wiping sweat from his flushed face. “And where the hell have you been hiding all this time?”

Overton stared ahead at the dark road, using his night vision to navigate the littered highway. He checked the mirror again, looking at the dirty faces of his lost—and now found—men. Instead of responding, he pushed down harder on the pedal. There would be plenty of time to explain everything to them. For now, he wanted to make sure they got back to the Biosphere in one piece. He had a small army now, a team he could launch his counteroffensive with, and a weapon that would ensure success.

A crooked grin spread across his face. He would have his war after all.

CHAPTER 17

WHEN Alex awoke, he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. He tried to sit up, but a flash of pain in his forehead forced him back down. Beneath him was a soft bed—a small comfort, but only a distraction from the fear swelling inside him. The last thing he remembered was the beach packed with Spiders.

His brain was so full of cobwebs, his memories stuck together. The one thing he wanted to remember seemed out of his grasp. Clenching his teeth, he massaged his temples.

What the hell had happened to him, and how did he end up in this place?

The chirp of a monitor spread a gracious orange glow over the sparsely furnished room. The quarters were small, no larger than a holding cell. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he panicked. Was he in a jail? Had he been captured? The space looked human.

He scanned the room for anything useful—anything that could help him remember.

The monitor flashed again, and three letters rolled across the screen.

N T C

And then he remembered: the bright light, the massive vessel, and the NTC officers pumping water out of his lungs. He had been captured; he was aboard a New Tech Corporation submarine.

Alex tried to sit up again. He brought a hand to his pounding skull and tried to clear his mind. It was then he noticed the wrapping around his wrist. Someone had dressed his injury. His eyes fell to his legs.

He was dressed in sweats. NTC was stitched across his chest.

Footfalls outside the room pulled his attention to the open door. The panic subsided; there wasn’t any prison he knew of that kept the cells unlocked. He turned back to the monitor and noticed a tray on the small desk nearby. On it was a plate of food and . . . Alex could hardly believe his eyes. He jumped out of the bed and pounced on the glass of water. It was gone in one large gulp.

Next he attacked the plate of food. He shoved chunks into his mouth, not even sure what he was eating. His jaws were smacking so loudly, he almost missed the voice in the doorway.

“Hungry?”

Alex turned to see the same tall, bearded man from earlier. With his broad shoulders and red beard, he reminded Alex of a Viking. Several medals decorated the man’s chest, implying he was no ordinary NTC staffer. Alex was torn between wanting to shout at the man and wanting to thank him for his rescue. NTC had abandoned his Biosphere and left everyone to die, but these officers had dressed his wounds and given him water. He didn’t know how to react, or what to say.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” the man said, and extended his hand. “Captain Rick Noble; we’re pleased to have you aboard.”

Alex reached out instinctively, his eyes still fixed on the captain’s medals. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Noble smiled. “I can assure you, Alex Wagner, you’ll be very safe—”

Hearing the man say his name reminded Alex of all that NTC had done. “Listen, I appreciate the rescue, I really do. But NTC knew about this shit from the beginning!” Alex said, his voice echoing off the walls. “You could have done something to stop it . . .” He trailed off as he considered his words. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe NTC couldn’t have stopped it. Maybe that’s why the sub was hiding under the ocean.

Noble didn’t immediately respond. Instead he turned toward the monitor, running a finger through his beard. The screen had switched to a video feed of a pair of jellyfish gliding by, a beautiful purple glow from their bodies illuminating the water around them. There was something tranquil about their movements. The anger building inside Alex subsided as he watched the creatures. He had seen them on documentaries before, but it never occurred to him that he might someday see these animals in their natural habitat. As he watched their bodies pulsate, Alex shifted uncomfortably. The jellyfish were far too reminiscent of the aliens that had been hunting him for the past week.

“Fascinating, aren’t they?” asked Noble. “The fact that they can live so far down, where the pressure would kill a man in seconds, is nothing short of miraculous.”

Alex shook his head. “With all due respect, I doubt you paid me a visit to discuss biology. Why are you here? Why did you save me?”

Again, Noble remained silent, his blue eyes studying Alex. The tension between them built in the stillness. Finally the captain said, “If you want to find out, follow me. I think we can answer all your questions.”

Noble stalked out of the room, not bothering to see if Alex followed. Alex looked down again at the tray of food and noticed a small tube of medicated ointment. He would have smiled if his lips weren’t so cracked. NTC had certainly laid out the red carpet for his arrival. They had given him food, water, and medication for his dry lips. That was enough for him. Grabbing the tube, he raced into the hallway, yelling, “Wait up!”

Noble was waiting for him a few doors down, his hands clasped behind his back. He eyed Alex’s wrist before continuing down the hall.

“How’s that feeling?”

Alex looked down at his injured arm and shrugged. “Not bad.”

For the next several minutes he led Alex through the bowels of the massive sub. They walked in silence, and Alex took in the sounds of the ship. The scuffling of feet from busy crew, the sporadic chirps from engineering monitors, the hissing of steam. He soaked it all in.

As they passed through an auxiliary machine room, he realized he was not on a tour. Captain Noble was leading him somewhere. With every step, Alex felt a growing tension. Weeks of constant vigilance had left him on edge, and although there were no alien monsters here, NTC might be hiding something much worse on this secret submarine.

They continued through another series of passages. Blue screens and control panels lined the walls, monitoring everything from life support systems to the sanitary sewer.

“Morning, sir,” a crew member said as Noble squeezed past him. Alex didn’t recognize her as one of his saviors from the night before, and he wondered how many people were aboard the submarine.

The captain nodded and smiled. “Morning, Pearce.”

As they traveled deeper into the vessel, Alex took note of the interaction between Noble and his crew. The captain made a conscientious effort to stop and say hello to every one of them. He wasn’t like the other NTC brass Alex had met. They had all been humorless hard-asses, exactly the sort of people who toed the company line even if it meant sending the rest of the world to hell. Alex hated the bastards on principle, but Noble seemed more, well, noble than the rest of them.

When they arrived at the CIC, Noble stopped. He turned to face Alex, his shoulders blocking the entrance.

“We don’t normally let civilians in here, but I’m making an exception for you,” he said. “This is the nerve center of the Ghost of Atlantis.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Those of us in the know call her GOA—and luckily there aren’t many of us in the know. Our coordinates are top secret, and from what we’ve seen so far, the aliens apparently have a hard time detecting us through all this water. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Alex shrugged. He was just glad the Spiders hadn’t followed them into the water.

“Technically, you are standing inside the most advanced submarine ever engineered. Like Atlantis, we’re deep below the waves, hoping to stay hidden from an invading force. We have more than enough food and weapons in case we get into a dicey situation,” Noble said, smiling. “But enough about all that. Are you ready to see why I brought you here?”

Alex nodded, but as he followed the captain into the dimly lit room, he had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t ready for whatever Noble wanted to show him.

Everyone in the Humvee froze when they saw the ship. The drone was flying low to the ground, cruising across the skyline.

Overton eased the truck to a stop and wedged the vehicle behind a pair of sedans. Killing the engine, he turned to look at Emanuel.

“Is that thing charged yet?”

The biologist shook his head. “I need more time.”

Bouma poked his helmeted head into the front seat. “Maybe it won’t see us,” he said.

Overton turned to watch the drone make another pass. It was circling, looking for something or someone.

Hunting.

They were only a few miles from the turnoff for the Biosphere—so close, but impossibly far at the same time. With a blink, Overton switched his HUD to infrared again, just to ensure there weren’t any other Organics in their path.

“I need to get back to my brother,” Jeff said.

“I know kid, I know. Let me think,” said Overton. He turned to Emanuel. “Don’t bullshit me. Will that thing work if we need it?”

“Yes,” said the scientist, “but the effect will carry over a shorter range than the last time.”

Overton exhaled, fogging up his visor. “All right, we sit here for five more minutes. If the drone doesn’t pass us by, we go to plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Kiel asked.

“I don’t know yet, but I have five minutes to figure it out.”

“Guys . . .” Jeff whispered. Louder, he repeated, “Guys!”

“What is it, kid?” Overton barked, turning to look at the boy. As soon as he did, he saw the horde of Spiders barreling down the highway.

Jeff looked up at Overton, squinting. “Let’s kill ’em,” he said. “Let’s kill ’em all.”

Overton saw Bouma smile from the backseat. That was his line.

The CIC was packed with staffers, some carrying tablets, others carrying old-fashioned notebooks. A chorus of chirps and beeps echoed through the space. Overhead, red and white LEDs flickered in every direction. The entire scene was chaos. After being alone for so long, the noise made Alex feel uneasy.

“This is where we monitor everything. And by everything, I mean everything. See that over there?” Noble said, pointing to a hologram of what appeared to be the UK. “They got hit the worst. The Biosphere there has been silent since invasion day. We’ve had intermittent contact with the Brazilian Biosphere, but nothing in the past week.”

“How many Biospheres are there?” asked Alex.

“There were fifty, strategically placed throughout the world. Truth is, we didn’t know about them until we received a message from Doctor Hoffman. Before that, we had been drifting through the Pacific for five months with no details about our deployment.”

Noble paused and looked at the electronic map of the world.

“There are only ten Biospheres left that we know of. Every week it seems like one of those red dots fades off the screen. Thankfully, a few are still holding strong. Our Cheyenne Mountain facility seems to be faring much better than the others.”

“Dr. Rodriguez,” Alex blurted, remembering their conversation. “From Cheyenne Mountain. I spoke to him on the radio back on the beach. He said something about developing a weapon that could change the course of the war.”

“What else did he say?” Noble asked, his eyes instantly growing wider.

“That’s it. I was being chased by those things.” Alex looked at his feet.

Noble nodded, and didn’t press any further. “You’re damned lucky to be alive, Alex. Damned lucky. Without that radio sending us signals, you would have been fish food by now.”

Alex glanced at the radio sticking out of his pocket. The top of the device was scratched from when he had tossed it aside a few days before. He tucked it deeper into the safety of his pocket.

“You okay?” Noble asked.

“Yeah. I just don’t get it. If all modern communications have been knocked out—including satellites—then how does this radio work?”

“Good question,” Noble quickly replied. “Truth is, we don’t really know why, but anything analog seems to work. The magnetic disturbance above the surface,” he said, pointing toward the ceiling. “It fried most everything on invasion day, and it continues to disrupt communications. Whoever designed the radio for the Biospheres must have known something we don’t. This sub is linked directly to the channel these analog radios transmit on.”

Alex scowled. “So you’re saying that NTC knew about the invasion?”

“I’d say there’s a good chance, although I don’t know much more than you,” Noble replied. He turned to check one of the monitors before continuing through the CIC. They passed a pair of holographic charts and stopped at a large monitor. “We’re learning more and more about the aliens every day, which still isn’t much in the scheme of things, but enough to start planning.”

“Planning?”

“An offensive. This vessel is humanity’s best hope and her most valuable weapon. We’re equipped with nuclear-tipped missiles, three NTC-44 helicopters, a smaller sub for recon, and a crew of 120 brilliant men and women. We’re more than capable of waging a full-fledged war from eight hundred feet beneath the surface.”

Alex surveyed the CIC again. He was impressed, but after seeing what had happened on the outside, he doubted the sub could do much more than annoy the Organics.

“Follow me,” Noble said, motioning Alex past an NTC guard at the hatch. As they made their way down a small flight of metal stairs into the heart of the CIC, a man in a neatly pressed blue NTC uniform approached them.

“Captain on deck,” he said.

Noble smiled. “Lieutenant Commander Lin, this is Alex Wagner.”

Lin reached out to shake Alex’s hand. “Welcome aboard.” Though his words were friendly, there was a calculating intelligence in his eyes.

“There’s someone else I’d like you to meet,” Noble said. “Irene, are you busy?”

An orange avatar shot out of a console next to the door. Alex knew right away it was the ship’s AI. She had the cropped hair typical of other AIs, but she wore glasses—something he’d never seen before.

“Hello, Alex. I am Irene. Welcome to the Ghost of Atlantis. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need anything,” she said with a thick Russian accent.

“Thank you,” Alex said as he followed Noble past another row of terminals. “A Russian AI?” he whispered.

The captain chuckled. “I failed to mention the most advanced submarine in the world was actually built by the Russians. Commissioned by NTC in twenty fifty-nine.”

“Don’t they have an entire research division that designs AIs?”

“They do, but Irene was part of the deal. And she was worth every dollar.”

“Thank you, sir,” Irene replied.

“I see,” Alex said, strolling over to a translucent image of the Earth that was speckled with glowing blue circles. “What do these dots represent?”

“I take it you’ve seen the human farms.”

Alex shook his head. He’d seen a lot in the time he’d spent outside, but nothing that he would have classified as a human farm.

“Wait, do you mean the orbs?”

“No, this is something much worse,” Noble said. “You aren’t the only survivor out there, Alex. And this may be hard for you to believe, but there are millions of others. Only . . .” Noble paused as one of his crew members squeezed by them.

“Only what?”

“Come with me, I want you to see something.”

The two men walked through the gallery of monitors and holograms, maneuvering carefully past staffers who were busily analyzing a constant stream of data. When they finally reached the middle of the deck Noble stopped and rested his hand against a metal pole extending from the ceiling with two handles attached to it. This was not a modern piece of technology; this was a tool from the past. Alex wasn’t sure what the device was at first, but then he remembered seeing one in a military book his father had kept on their coffee table.

“Is that a periscope?” he asked.

“Ever seen one?”

Alex shook his head. “Not in person.”

“Most people haven’t. The navy stopped using them years ago. When NTC commissioned this ship and selected me as captain, I requested one. Why? Because I believe the best way isn’t necessarily the newest way. Our instructions from Doctor Hoffman were clear, but he gave me the leeway to carry out the mission as I see fit.”

“And what is that mission?”

Noble nodded as if he approved of Alex’s question. “We are to be observers only.”

Alex hesitated before responding. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Doctor Hoffman gave us strict orders. Do not interfere with the Biospheres. He didn’t want us to risk being discovered. Our job was to watch and document what was going on. But after realizing how bad things really were outside, I broke protocol and had my chief communication engineer tap into the channel. We’ve been trying to contact the Biospheres ever since.”

Alex had so many questions that he had trouble narrowing them down. “What about other submarines and military bases? The army, the navy, the marines, NTC—you said there were other survivors. Have you been able to reach any of them?”

Noble shrugged. “You’d think so, but we’ve only been able to get through to the Biospheres on the encrypted channel. If there are other subs out there, then they’re hiding just like us. I’ve tasked two of my communications officers with trying to make contact, but so far, nothing.”

Alex’s mind reeled. It was hard for him to believe the military was gone or hiding. Even with a bellyful of food and a bit of rest, Alex was feeling light-headed. He was still severely dehydrated—which reminded him he needed to piss again. The mere thought sent pain racing through his groin. He knew it was going to hurt.

“At any rate, we got lucky,” Noble continued. “With these old tools, we aren’t completely blind. Check this out.” The captain spun the periscope in Alex’s direction. “I had them include the most advanced fiber optic system on the market. You can see inside moon craters with this one. I’ve had Irene load some images we captured last time we used it. Go ahead and take a look, but be prepared for a shock.”

Alex grabbed the handles, pulling the eyepiece to his face. The captain was right; what he saw was beyond belief.

Are those really people?

Alex finally realized what Noble had meant when he had used the term human farms. The images were horrifying, revealing not one but hundreds of poles lining the beach in the distance. There was no way to determine how many humans were attached to them, and no way to determine if they were alive or dead.

Pushing the scope away, Alex felt a wave of dizziness rush over him. He tried to speak, but his lips were numb. His body was tired. He’d been on the run for so long. And now he had seen something that couldn’t be unseen. It was too much for his brain to handle.

Noble reached out to steady him, but it was too late. Alex’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the metal deck. He struggled to stay conscious, but pain pounded in his head as he lay helpless on the floor.

“Get us some help!” Noble yelled, crouching by Alex’s side. “It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry; I should have warned you first.”

“Captain!” Another staffer yelled from the back of the room. “Sir, you need to see this.”

Alex caught a quick glimpse of an older female NTC officer, her freckled face filled with fear.

“Sir, we didn’t pick anything up on radar. Whatever this thing is, it’s using stealth technology,” she continued.

“Irene, switch on the lights,” Noble ordered. “Lin, prepare to take evasive measures.”

The massive LEDs blinked on at the bow, shooting a brilliant beam through the darkness. The beams lit up a sleek black object. At first Alex thought it was another submarine, but as it crept closer, he realized it was something much, much bigger.

Alex squirmed on the floor trying to blink the stars out of his vision, but the booming pain in his head was just too much. Defeated, he closed his eyes and heard Irene’s Russian accent break over the com.

“Contact heading right for us, sir. Impact in T minus thirty-five point five seconds.”

CHAPTER 18

WITHIN seconds, the first wave of Spiders exploded over a tangled mass of empty cars. Like hungry ants, they swarmed over the useless vehicles, scraping and clawing their way closer to the Humvee.

Overton scanned the highway for an escape route. A small ridgeline would provide them some cover on the north side, but the south was nothing more than an empty field of dead grass. If they tried to outrun the Spiders by heading west, the drone would catch them. The east was overrun with the advancing horde. There was no clear option.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his rifle, he looked at his men. They had been in the muck for weeks, and Overton was about to put them through more of it.

He scowled and felt the scars on his face stretch. Would he be earning a new one soon? He looked at his HUD to see only thirty seconds had passed since the drone had spotted them. Time was up. It was action time.

“Emanuel, give Kiel and Thompson your weapons. When I tell you to activate the RVAMP, you do it. Immediately. Got it?” Overton barked.

Emanuel nodded and handed his rifle and pistol to the two marines in the backseat just as blue light consumed the truck. The drone was hovering over them. Overton felt the engine die as the ship shot a beam of light at the vehicle, knocking out the electronics in one quick click.

“What’s happening?” Jeff cried.

“Stay here, kid,” Overton said as he tossed his spare electromagnetic pulse grenade at Bouma. “Kiel, Thompson—you concentrate your fire on the horde after the ’nade goes off. Bouma, I want you to keep your fire on that drone. Do not let the beam touch you!”

The men nodded, and Overton grabbed his door handle. He felt the adrenaline pumping into his blood stream. This was what he lived for—this was what he was going to die doing.

He hesitated, and then took off his helmet. The electromagnetic pulse grenade was going to knock out his HUD anyway.

“Get it done!” Overton yelled, snapping the door open and jumping onto the blacktop. With one swift move he launched his last grenade at the Spiders and went down on one knee. He watched the device sail through the air and wedge underneath the tire of a minivan a couple hundred yards away.

Bouma fired first. The rounds tore into the drone above, ricocheting off its sides, and knocking the craft off its axis. The slight change in movement was just what Thompson and Kiel needed to move into position. Overton grinned and licked the sweat off his upper lip. The grenade went off just as the first Spiders passed the minivan.

A shockwave ripped through the aliens’ shields, knocking out the first dozen. But there were many more still standing. Hundreds. An endless army as far as Overton could see. And moving amongst the sea of blue was something large—something with a back full of spikes.

Jamie’s soft words echoed in Overton’s mind. Those were the small monsters. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d rescued the little ankle-biter.

“Holy shit,” Overton muttered. He squeezed off a few shots at the closest Spiders in an attempt to get a better look at the creature. As limbs exploded in all directions, he caught a glimpse of a pair of hooves, and a body covered in dark black scales.

What the fuck? Overton thought. If this thing had armor, it was going to take more than a pulse grenade to bring it down.

Before he could get a target on the beast, another pack of Spiders moved in to replace the ones he had already splattered across the highway. Over the crack of gunfire, Overton could hear the massive creature’s hooves cracking the cement beneath its weight. Small tremors followed the sound as the alien made its way closer. Not a sound he wanted to hear. He swallowed. Hard. This thing was like an alien tank.

He moved into a better position, checking his six to make sure the drone hadn’t flanked them. When he turned back to the horde, the sharp edge of a massive beak smashed through a cluster of Spiders, and Overton saw the face of the monster for the first time. He lowered his weapon in awe and watched the creature swing its beak from side to side, sending Spiders tumbling across the highway.

“Overton, what are you doing? Shoot that thing!” a voice shouted.

But Overton couldn’t pull his gaze away from the beast. It had the body of an oversized rhino and the face of a bird, with a long black beak the length of his pulse rifle. And staring right at him were . . . he counted them one by one.

Nine eyes.

“Overton! Snap out of it! Shoot that thing,” Bouma yelled.

The creature smashed through another group of Spiders, plastering the highway with blue goo. Overton couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of respect for the alien. It displayed a brute strength and domination over the Spiders.

It wasn’t until Overton saw the orbs lining the creature’s underbelly that he finally snapped out of his trance. He shouldered his weapon and yelled, spit exploding from his mouth. “Emanuel, how long until that thing is charged?”

A second of silence passed before the scientist replied.

“A couple of minutes, max!”

Overton looked back at the growing pile of body parts a few hundred yards away. Even if they were able to hold off the Spiders, this new alien was going to be on top of them soon. They didn’t have minutes—they had seconds, at best.

Overton fired off the last of his magazine and tossed his rifle on the ground. Racing back to the truck, he opened the passenger door and grabbed the mobile RVAMP from Emanuel.

“Show me how to work this thing.”

“Push here,” the biologist said, pointing at a button.

The marine didn’t reply; he simply grabbed the device and took off running toward the swarming aliens. Bouma had pushed the drone north, over the ridgeline, but out of the corner of his eye, Overton saw a third pack of Spiders. The creatures burst over the hill, some of them tumbling limb over limb and forming a wave of swimming blue flesh.

They were about to flank Thompson, who was concentrating his fire on the aliens to the east. Before Overton could do more than shout a warning, they were on the big marine. Sharp claws ripped through his back and lifted his massive body into the air like he was a slab of meat. The pack swarmed, stabbing him repeatedly as he fired off rounds into the sky, the gunfire drowning out his screams. Bright red blood stained the cement, mixing with the river of blue goo.

Kiel turned to see his friend take his last breaths. “No!” he yelled, turning to fire his pistol at the swarm. The rounds bounced off the Spiders’ shields, and they continued to surge forward.

The sound of death filled the highway. Shrieks from the Spiders mixed with the snorting of the massive beast as it broke through the line of dead bodies. Legs, torsos, and claws exploded into the air.

Bouma and Kiel dove for cover, but Overton advanced. He wasn’t sure what the range was on the device, but he wanted to be as close as possible. His heart pumped adrenaline through every vein in his body. He could almost taste it.

When the beast was less than fifty yards away, Overton slid to his knees, bringing the device into his lap. He pushed the button and waited for the weapon to work. Nothing happened.

He looked up. The monster was racing toward him, bucking Spiders in all directions.

Overton hit the button again.

Click.

A shockwave ripped through the humid morning air. The beast approaching him let out an earsplitting shriek.

Overton watched as the alien’s legs gave out underneath its massive frame. With a crash, the monster collapsed onto the concrete and glided across the highway. The creature’s head smashed into a car, sending the sedan rolling into a ditch.

Overton stayed kneeling as the beast slid toward him. He closed his eyes, waiting for the alien to smash into him and crush him with its enormous weight.

Seconds later, the highway was quiet. The Organics’ screams had dissipated. Cracking his right eye open, Overton looked up into the face of the new alien. Its beak opened and a slender blue tongue snaked out. With one last violent twitch, the creature released a cloud of rotten breath, peppering Overton’s face with chunks of blue spit.

He wiped it out of his eyes just as a small hand shook his shoulder.

“You did it,” Jeff said.

Overton kept his focus on the monster’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the orbs that had split open when the beast fell, nor at the distorted human bodies spilling out of the broken spheres. Instead, he looked into the alien’s twitching eyes and spat in the dying creature’s face.

“We need to go, Sergeant Overton,” Jeff said, shaking the marine’s shoulder more forcefully.

“The Humvee is toast,” Bouma shouted.

Wiping a slimy mixture of Organic blood and sweat off his forehead, Overton returned his focus to the situation at hand. Scanning the Humvee, Overton could see that Bouma was right. A thick plume of smoke rose from underneath the hood. Although the highway was littered with cars, they were all dead or wrecked.

“Bouma, find one that you can get to work. One with a hydrogen fuel cell might be our best bet,” Overton ordered.

While his men searched for a vehicle, Overton turned to watch the morning sun rising higher over the highway. The brilliant orange rays illuminated a puddle of red blood snaking out from under a pile of dead Spiders. A pair of boots were just visible beneath the gore, but Overton turned away. He couldn’t bear to look at Thompson’s remains. He’d seen too many of his men dead already.

CHAPTER 19

WHEN Sophie awoke, she found herself curled up next to David. She must have stumbled to his room after her nightmare.

His body was a small, still lump under the covers, and in the dim light she couldn’t see if his chest was moving. She reached out hesitantly, the horror of her dream still fresh in her mind. When she found a steady pulse at his neck, Sophie had to stop herself from gathering him up in a hug. The boy needed his rest; he had been worried sick over Jeff’s kidnapping, and it would be best to let him sleep.

Relieved, she rubbed her eyes and scanned the room. Holly was curled up in a very uncomfortable-looking position in a chair by the door. Jamie and Owen were wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully in the center of the room.

Sophie swung her feet onto the cold floor and reached for her boots. Slowly she tiptoed past Holly and the kids, making her way quietly into the hallway. It was just after eight A.M., and the sun would be past rising outside. She wanted to believe that Emanuel and the others were coming back, but with every passing hour she knew their chances grew slimmer. Hope was slowly bleeding out of her.

Not knowing where she was headed, she paced down the passages connecting the Biomes, the lights clicking on as she passed their sensors. When she got to the garden, she stopped and took in a deliberately long breath. Orange trees filled the room with an intoxicating smell, but she kept walking, her boots clicking against the metal surface.

Pausing at the stairway, she took in the expansive field of mature cornstalks. She’d always been a city girl, but there was something romantic about farming. Sophie smiled, thinking of Emanuel’s enthusiasm for all things green and growing.

Looking over the rows of crops, she realized how lucky she had been—not only to have survived the invasion, but also to have been picked for the Biosphere mission. Of course, it wasn’t all luck. She had worked hard to get where she was in her career, but they had hit the jackpot on invasion day, not only surviving but also finding a home in one of the safest places left on Earth. Her smile faded. Would it still be worth it if Emanuel wasn’t there to enjoy it with her?

Jumping off the platform, she landed in the dirt and carefully trotted through the corn to the apple tree at the center of the Biome. One of its branches grazed her cheek as she approached. Sophie winced and ducked beneath it to stand beside the trunk. She gazed up at the flurry of green. The leaves were mostly still healthy, with only a few brown tips in sight.

She let her back slide against the bark until her butt hit the dirt.

“Ouch,” she said, realizing she’d sat on her radio. She pulled it from her belt and looked at the display. The same flat wavelength raced across the screen, but she decided to try it anyway.

“This is Doctor Sophie Winston with the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere. Does anyone read me? Um, over.” She frowned. Military lingo was something she’d never quite mastered. To be honest, she’d never seen the need before now. Overton was always going on about “contacts” and “watching their six,” and though she’d picked up quite a bit of the jargon, it was still an unfamiliar language.

Sharp static broke over the single channel, and she watched the wavelength intently for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

Sophie sighed and clipped the radio to her belt.

“Alexia, any news from the outside?” she said, knowing the AI would hear her.

“Good morning, Doctor Winston. I’m sorry, but there is no news yet.”

Sophie closed her eyes and pounded the back of her head several times against the bark.

“Goddamn it,” she said, wincing and reaching back to cup her bruised skull. Waiting was the hardest part, especially when she knew that Emanuel was in grave danger. He was basically all she had left. She knew her family and everyone else on the outside was dead. Her friends, her colleagues. All dead. She couldn’t lose him, too.

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm chirped. Sophie’s eyelids snapped open. “What is it, Alexia?”

“One moment, scanning.”

A moment of silence, and then Alexia’s calm voice said, “Contacts, Doctor Winston.”

Pain pinched Sophie’s gut. Damned military lingo—contacts could mean anything from a horde of Organics to her returning team.

“Can you be more specific?” Sophie yelled.

“Camera 1 is picking up a vehicle traveling quickly up the frontage road.”

Sophie raced through the cornstalks, pushing them out of her way without care. She emerged near the metal doors leading out of the Biosphere. With one leap, she jumped onto the platform and ran toward them.

The faint sound of footsteps broke out over the stillness of the gardens. Sophie turned to see Holly standing in the passageway at the far side of Biome 1. By her side were Jamie and Owen.

“We have company!” Sophie yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth so her voice would travel. “Take the kids to the medical ward and lock the door. Alexia can’t confirm whether they’re friendly or hostiles.”

Holly caught Sophie’s gaze for a split second and mouthed what appeared to be “Good luck.”

Sophie nodded and turned back to the entrance. She grabbed the pistol Overton had given her and aimed it at the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she clicked off the safety. There was little chance anyone would be able to get into the Biosphere, but if she had learned anything since the invasion, it was that nothing was impossible.

Overton slammed on the brakes of the minivan, nearly crashing it into the blast doors. Jumping onto the tarmac, he jammed his helmet back over his face. The visor immediately clouded with steam from the heat radiating off his forehead.

“This is Sergeant Ash Overton, Alexia, do you read? Over,” Overton said into his mic.

“Welcome home, Sergeant Overton,” said the AI. “Please prepare to enter the facility.”

“Good to be back,” he said. He grabbed his empty rifle and made his way to the massive blast doors where Emanuel, Jeff, and Bouma were already waiting.

“Where’s Kiel?” Overton asked.

Bouma pointed silently back the way they’d come. Kiel stood staring at the rear of the minivan, where they’d stowed Thompson’s bloody remains.

“Can someone help me?” Kiel asked.

Overton scowled behind his visor, trying to hide his discomfort. He should have been the one asking that question, not Kiel. After all, Thompson’s death was on his hands.

Overton swung his rifle over his back and jogged over to the vehicle.

“He’s going to be heavy,” Kiel said gravely.

Overton remembered the shoulder wound he had sustained a few weeks ago and said, “Bouma, get your ass over here. Jeff, Emanuel, you guys go on without us. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

The blast doors hissed from the hydraulics and the metal groaned open. Emanuel acknowledged Overton’s orders with a quick nod and then led Jeff into the cargo bay. The boy glanced over his shoulder one last time, thanking the sergeant with a smile.

Overton grinned and gave the kid a haphazard salute that made Jeff smile even wider. He stood and watched the two disappear, listening to the oddly comforting sound of creaking metal. The sound meant they were home, and it was a welcome reprieve from the alien shrieks that were still echoing in his mind.

“Ready?” Bouma asked, grabbing Thompson’s legs.

Overton nodded solemnly, the small comfort from the noise of human engineering quickly vanishing at the sight of the dead marine.

“On the count of three,” he said. Taking in a measured breath, he scanned the marine’s massive frame. Bloodstains surrounded puncture wounds all over his uniform where the Spiders had stabbed him over and over. Noticing Thompson’s eyes were still open, Overton reached over and closed them before grabbing the man under his left arm.

“Ready?” he asked.

The men nodded, and Overton started counting.

“One . . . two . . . three!”

With a heave, the marines pulled Thompson’s body out of the minivan and carried him into the bay. They set him down softly on the concrete floor inside. Kiel grabbed a tarp and began to pull it over his friend’s body when Overton held out his hand.

“Wait.” The sergeant crouched and pulled Thompson’s dog tags off his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Overton forced himself to look once more at the lifeless marine’s face. First Finley and now Thompson. Not to mention the rest of his squad, who could still be out there.

“Fuck,” Overton muttered. He rose to his feet and kicked a nearby crate as hard as he could, sending it skidding across the floor. Bouma and Kiel stood with their heads bowed as one last ray of sunlight shone through the gap in the doors before they clanged shut.

“How’s everyone doing?” Emanuel said, grabbing Sophie’s hand. She smiled and turned to embrace him. She’d hardly stopped hugging him since his return.

“Much better now that you’re back,” she said, smiling.

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 disagree 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 about 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.

Overton let out a condescending laugh. “You’ve been in the field way too long, kid. Even if we had access to nukes, the operating systems are locked down and the men and women that had the access codes are probably dissolving in orbs as we speak.”

Kiel frowned and folded his hands together again.

“What about the mother ships? Even if you’re able to use the weapon on a larger scale, we’ll still be left with the threat of intelligent Organics. They’re just hovering up there, sucking our world dry. If we kill their armies, do you think they’ll just leave?” Holly said.

“She’s got a point. That’s where nukes would really come in handy,” replied Overton. “But our first priority should be to do some more recon and rescue more survivors. There are men and women out there. We can’t just sit around and watch.”

Sophie shook her head. “No, no, no. I say this with all due respect, Sergeant, but you’re lucky to have returned from your last mission. I’m not about to authorize another trip out there so soon. There has to be another way.”

Overton stood, sliding his metal chair across the concrete. The sound was reminiscent of the Spiders, and Sophie couldn’t help but cringe.

“Listen, I get that you’re in charge of this fish tank, but I’m not about to let people rot outside. With Emanuel’s weapon, we can finally fight back.” Overton didn’t look to his men for support, and they remained silent, their eyes downcast.

Sophie knew she was once again being challenged by the overzealous marine. And while she couldn’t deny the fact he had saved her and the others on multiple occasions, she also knew he was becoming unstable. If he would risk another mission without letting his team recover from the last one, then he was losing his edge. He was getting desperate—he was getting dangerous.

Before she could shut him down, Emanuel said, “I agree with Overton.” Sophie’s face immediately grew red. How could he? How could he possibly stand against her?

“If I can figure a way to triangulate this pulse farther than a few miles, then it should be safe to go outside. Why not compromise, Sophie?”

Sophie gritted her teeth. “What about the team, Emanuel? Have you forgotten about the rest of us? If Overton gets killed, then what? Who’s going to protect us?”

Overton crossed his arms and snorted. Then, turning to face Sophie, he said, “You want to stand by and watch the world waste away outside? Go ahead. I know I don’t. I’d rather die. And frankly, Sophie, I thought that you would want to save the human race, being a scientist and all.”

The words struck Sophie like a brisk slap to the face. She was stunned. Had he really questioned her commitment to science? How could he? After all they had been through? After she had saved his life? He was either becoming more of an asshole, or he knew exactly where to bite.

Sophie locked eyes with him, but he held strong, his jaw clenched tightly shut. Overton’s dark stare was filled with emptiness. She’d seen the look only once before—her grandmother had had a similar stare the months before her death, when she had lost her will to live. Overton might not have lost his, but he had fixated on a mission that would likely end in his death and the deaths of everyone else that went with him.

Sophie turned back to her team, looking for support. They weren’t staring at Overton. They were staring at her.

No, she thought. They can’t honestly think I’m the crazy one. She scanned the team one by one. When she came to Holly, the doctor looked at the floor, nervously brushing a strand of blond hair out of her face.

The lump in Sophie’s throat grew. She could see Emanuel studying her out of the corner of her eye. It took all her courage to face him. When she did, she saw his normally chipper smile had faded into a frown. He looked . . .

Embarrassed.

Sophie felt a tear forming in her right eye.

No, you need to stay strong, she thought. You need to keep control. She sucked in a breath, closed her eyes, and forced a smile.

When she opened her eyes, something had changed in Emanuel’s expression. He no longer looked embarrassed. He looked disheartened.

The click of Kiel’s coffee mug against the table broke the silence, and Sophie stepped away from the team. Slowly, the rage inside her calmed. She hated to admit it, but maybe Overton had a point. Maybe Emanuel was right. Maybe, just maybe, he could get the weapon to work on a larger scale and they could save more people.

With a sigh, Sophie sat on one of the metal benches. She looked at Overton, who stared back, his eyes pleading with her.

Shit, Sophie thought. There were no easy answers at the end of the world, and now she wasn’t sure whom she could trust. Sophie was humble enough to admit when she was wrong, or at least when she was outvoted. “Fine,” she finally said, turning back to Emanuel. “If—and only if—you can increase the weapon’s range, I will authorize a recon mission. Otherwise no one leaves the safety of the Biosphere. Do I make myself clear?” She scanned the team’s faces one by one until she got to Overton.

The man nodded but remained silent. She knew he wanted to respond, to argue with her, but he finally looked away.

She reached back and pulled her hair into a ponytail before continuing. “It’s settled, then. Emanuel will work on his device. For the rest of you, well, I have a surprise. We have some harvesting to do. Alexia says the garden is ready.”

The team got up and filed out of the mess hall, leaving Sophie alone.

She stood in silence, wishing she could curl up in her quarters and hibernate until the Organics left. She’d felt increasingly isolated for weeks. Even with Emanuel back, loneliness still followed her. She didn’t need a mirror to see the bags under her eyes or how much weight she’d lost.

Her decisions affected everyone, not only within these walls but outside, too. And she knew their recent luck was just that. She could feel the fear sneaking up on her, reminding her that something was bound to go wrong—that something was brewing outside. She could almost hear the scratching and scraping of the Spiders’ claws.

The memory of the black ship slipped into her mind as she got up to leave. Her instincts were right—there was definitely something worse outside the safety of the Biosphere. There were the intelligent Organics, hovering far above them: waiting, planning, and harvesting the world’s most important resource.

CHAPTER 21

AFTER waking up in the infirmary, Alex had been led into a tiny conference room and sandwiched between two longtime enemies. A wooden table was all that separated the two sides, and the stale air reeked of uncertainty. Alex could see it in every stern face and clenched jaw. Captain Noble paced back and forth in his small corner of the room, his shoulders high and stiff.

Noble was faced with a potentially hostile enemy, an enemy that had spent years hiding from the rest of the world, and years harboring anti-American resentment. Alex knew whatever the captain said or did could be easily misconstrued by the Chinese. The tension in the room lingered like humidity.

Alex felt his cheeks turning red as he held his breath.

Finally, Noble stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “Captain Quan, again, I’d like to welcome you aboard our ship. I know it must have taken a great deal of trust to leave the safety of your boat. I can assure you that your trust was well placed.”

Alex studied Quan for a reaction. The man was one of the last artifacts of what had once been the most powerful military in the world. He wore a neatly pressed gray uniform and, like Noble, sported a chest full of medals. He seemed oblivious to his country’s destruction decades earlier, staring ahead blankly, his bald head reflecting the bright LEDs. But Alex knew this was just an act. Like the Organics, Quan was just waiting for the perfect time to strike.

The NTC crew didn’t have to wait long.

With the tiniest of nods, Quan spoke in near perfect English.

“We appreciate your invitation, but we aren’t here as your friends, Captain Noble. We are here to figure out what is going on outside.”

“I understand, Captain,” Noble said politely.

“We were off the coast of Puerto Rico when we lost all contact with the outside world. For the past month we’ve been drifting in silence. As you know, nothing digital works.”

“And . . . you mentioned you are all that’s left of the Chinese military?”

With his eyes slightly downcast, Captain Quan’s voice drifted into a slow whisper. “There were two other vessels left after we lost contact with the mainland. We had been communicating by a secure channel, but after one of them docked in Morocco for recon, we never heard from them again. Same thing happened to the other sub.” The man glanced to his left and right, as if he were waiting for his subordinates to speak up.

Alex noticed the move immediately. Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t a soldier or a psychologist—hell, he wasn’t even good at poker—but his gut told him things were about to get heated.

It had been a decade since NTC hired mercenaries to set off EMPs in China. The attack had put an end to China’s unquenchable thirst for resources, and even if they had wanted to retaliate, they couldn’t—their entire infrastructure was shot and their submarine fleet had disappeared.

Until now.

What if they were about to get their revenge? Alex slid uncomfortably in his chair, his head still pounding. He watched Captain Noble unfold his arms and step up to the table.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it doesn’t surprise me. We’ve had a similar experience with the United States Navy and other NTC vessels. Before I get into the details, I need to know exactly what you know.”

Quan looked at him as if he had been insulted. “We know virtually nothing, Captain. I told you, we were in the dark until we picked up your messages via Morse code. For all we know, NTC is behind this.”

Captain Noble’s features froze. His typically friendly demeanor disappeared in a flash. “You think NTC is doing this? Irene, let’s show Captain Quan what’s going on up there!”

The lights in the room dimmed, and a blue light shimmered over the table. A hologram shot out of the center of the table. It was hazy at first, but after a few moments the image came into focus.

Alex forced himself to look away from the hologram. The hologram showed human farms—the poles lining a beach he didn’t recognize. It was the same sight that had made him faint earlier. He swallowed when he saw the human prisoners hanging limply from the poles.

“What is that?” Captain Quan asked, the smallest hint of fear in his voice.

Noble grabbed his tablet off the metal table and flicked the screen. “That is what happened outside,” he said. “And this is what did it.”

A new image materialized. It was an all-too-familiar pack of Spiders, their claws scratching across the surface of a parking lot. One of them tore into an orb, revealing the distorted face of a woman.

Captain Quan stood abruptly. “Do you really think us fools? That we would believe this . . .” he paused, the thought escaping him before he spat out three words. “This science fiction?” His subordinates quickly rose around him. They had been disarmed before boarding the ship, but one of them was reaching for something inside his jacket.

The NTC guard at the doorway leveled his pulse rifle at the Chinese soldiers. Alex froze. He watched Noble hold up his hands and motion the NTC guard to back off.

“Listen, Quan,” he said. “You’re a rational man, a military man. I knew you wouldn’t believe a story about an alien invasion unless you saw it for yourself.” Noble tapped his tablet and called up another set of graphics over the table. “When I first saw these images, I didn’t believe them either. I didn’t want to believe them.” Pausing, Noble ran a finger through his mustache and turned to the AI console. “Irene, can you explain what we are looking at?”

The AI’s avatar emerged over the metal console a few feet away. “Certainly, sir. This is a field of orbs. They contain the remains of humans or animals and are used by the aliens as fuel.”

“What do you mean, fuel?” Captain Quan said, slowly sitting back down in his chair.

“Show him the other images,” Noble requested.

One by one, more images of the Organics’ destruction appeared above the table: a dry lakebed, an empty river with boats scattered along its empty shores, a city park covered in dazzling spheres.

“As you can see, they are feeding their armies with the water of humans, animals, rivers, lakes, and . . .” Captain Noble paused again.

Captain Quan raised his eyebrow, his face still stern. Alex could see the man was growing angrier by the second.

Good, maybe it will compel him to help NTC, Alex thought.

Noble snapped from his trance, crossed his arms, and took a step farther away from the table. “They are draining the oceans. Irene, next graphic please.”

Alex recognized the waterfall climbing into the sky.

“This is their attempt at removing our oceans. We believe that the sheer size of the ocean is what’s slowing them down. Time is the one advantage we have,” Noble continued.

Quan raised a hand, stopping Noble in midsentence. “You will have to forgive me, Captain. This is all very hard to believe. Boarding this sub was a very difficult decision. After all, we know NTC was behind the destruction of our country’s infrastructure.”

Noble uncrossed his arms and smiled. “Frankly, I’m amazed you did come aboard, Captain. That took a lot of balls. But what NTC did happened in a different world.”

“Indeed. And if what you say is true, then the future of the planet rests in the hands of the men and women in this room.”

Alex stirred in his seat. He’d been outside; he knew what they were up against. He knew that the human race had no chance against the Organics.

“Exactly. But we’re not completely alone in this. There are others who survived.” Noble turned and looked at Alex.

With all eyes on him, he smiled sheepishly and felt his face grow red. Alex had assumed there was a reason Noble had asked him to come, but was still uncertain as to what that reason would be. Now he knew. His experiences made him the perfect person to explain how bad things really were above the surface.

“Alex was part of a very secret Biosphere project that NTC put into motion. You see, some officials in NTC knew the invasion was coming years ago. Doctor Hoffman sold the idea of Biosphere projects to the company under the guise of research, saying they would help prepare for the colonization of Mars. But the Biospheres were really set up to help a few key people survive after the invasion. What Hoffman obviously didn’t know was that the aliens had a way to penetrate the buried bunkers and silos across the planet. Only a few of the original fifty Biospheres remain.”

“NTC knew about this but didn’t warn the world?” Quan interjected.

“Very few people knew, Captain,” Noble said. “In fact, we were deployed months ago with no idea of what our actual mission was. On invasion day our orders became very clear. We were to monitor the Biospheres from afar. We learned later that a select group of individuals, including Doctor Hoffman, left the planet for Mars in a ship called Secundo Casu.”

Quan frowned but kept silent.

“Each Biosphere was equipped with one radio. They are all on the same frequency that we are able to monitor. That’s how we found Alex here,” he said pointing to him. “Alex, I’d like you to tell them what you told me earlier, about the Biosphere on Cheyenne Mountain.”

Sliding his chair back, Alex stood and locked eyes with Captain Quan. The soldier was older than Alex had originally thought. Quan’s face was lined with creases, and his thin eyebrows were completely white. Alex was looking at the last captain of the once infamous Chinese Navy.

“We sent out an SOS on this radio before the aliens invaded our bunker,” Alex finally said, holding up the device. “Cheyenne Mountain’s Biosphere answered.”

Captain Noble gestured for him to continue with a nod.

Alex took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if the information was legitimate, if Dr. Rodriguez really had a weapon, but it didn’t really matter. Alex said, “They said they were working on a new weapon. I don’t know much about it, but I think they’ve found a way to disguise themselves from the aliens and a way to fight back.”

The room grew silent for a few moments before Captain Noble stepped back to the table. “Thank you, Alex,” he said politely.

“Obviously, the first objective is to get in touch with Cheyenne Mountain. To see if what they have told Alex is true. But to do that we will need to surface. The signal simply won’t work this deep. The second objective would be to plan an attack ourselves, just in case the Biosphere is compromised. Which brings me to my next request.”

He took a few cautious steps closer to Captain Quan.

“I would be honored if you would consider collaborating with us on a counterattack. Whatever your country did to the United States in the past, and whatever NTC did in retaliation, needs to be buried. We need to move forward. Together. For the sake of humanity.”

Captain Quan seemed to consider the offer for several seconds. “Aliens.” He laughed sourly. “I never thought I would live to see the day. But you are right, Captain Noble. We need to work together.” He glanced at a burly soldier next to him.

“This is Lieutenant Commander Le. He will be serving as my liaison. I presume you have room at a station for him?”

“Absolutely. Lin, where are you?”

“Here, sir.”

“I’m appointing you as NTC’s liaison. Captain Quan, I hope you too will allow some of my crew onto your ship?”

“Yes,” Quan replied, acknowledging Lin with quick glance.

Alex couldn’t help but smile. If there were still hard feelings about what had happened a decade ago, Lin was just the officer to smooth things over.

“Very well, Captain Noble. Please show First Officer Le to his station. I will send a small team to your ship later today, after I have given my crew a full debriefing. That way if either of our subs is compromised, we can continue to function.”

Quan departed the room and the rest of his staff followed him out in silence. Remaining at the table was Le, whose uniform looked like it was two sizes too small. His cropped hair stuck to his head like a helmet, and his dark brown eyes stared ahead, expressionless. To Alex, the man was more intimidating than Captain Quan.

Folding his tablet under his arm, Captain Noble motioned for Le to follow him. Alex watched the entire NTC crew vanish from the room before trying to stand. His foot had fallen asleep, and the numb pain shot through his leg. He massaged his foot and stared at the hologram still hovering above the table. Saltwater cascaded into the sky. There was something mesmerizing about it.

As the pain in his leg faded, he forced himself away from the image. Captain Noble wasn’t just wrong about fighting back. He was wrong about how much time the human race really had left.

CHAPTER 22

SCRATCH, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Sophie froze, paralyzed by the familiar sound. She turned slowly and saw Jamie looking up at her mischievously from the adjacent table. The little girl giggled as she slid her fork across the metal table, right through a trail of splattered tomatoes.

“Jamie, don’t play with your food,” Holly said.

“Yeah, Jamie, don’t play with your food,” Owen mimicked as he stabbed one of his own tomatoes. The ripe vegetable exploded into a mess of red juice on his plate.

Sophie took in a deep breath of the Biosphere’s filtered air and turned back to her tablet. Video of Overton’s trip streamed across the display. She watched in silence, trying to understand exactly what she was looking at. As a scientist, she was fascinated by the Organics’ biology, but as one of the few humans left in the fight against them, she found them horrifying. She watched the third wave of Spiders flank Overton’s team and paused the image. The idea was to gain a better understanding of how the aliens operated—how they fought.

After six weeks of working with the sergeant to protect the Biosphere, she was beginning to think more like a marine. And since Jeff’s recent capture, she was becoming increasingly paranoid.

Scratch, scrape . . .

“Jamie, cut that out,” Sophie snapped, glaring at the child.

“Sorry,” Jamie whimpered. The girl dropped the fork and picked at the mess in front of her.

Sophie knew she had to keep it together; none of this was the children’s fault, and she had no right to take it out on them. They had been robbed of their childhood. Nothing was worse than that.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” Sophie said, getting up and making her way to the other table. She wrapped her arms around the girl in a hug. “I need to see Emanuel. I’ll check in on you guys later.”

Sophie rushed out of the room, still embarrassed that she had upset the girl. It only took her a minute to navigate the hallways connecting the Biomes, and she found Emanuel hunched over the RVAMP in the medical ward. She remained silent, studying him curiously from the doorway. Under the bright LED lights, she could see several gray hairs mixed into his perfect side part. The stress was aging them all.

He worked quietly, twisting a bolt off the metal device. Sophie preferred to listen to music in the lab, but Emanuel had always worked in silence. He claimed it was better that way—that music was just a distraction.

With a small tug, Emanuel removed a side panel, revealing a tangled mess of colored wires.

“What a mess,” he muttered. Reaching for a tool, he saw her standing in the doorway. A warm smile crept across his face. A tingle raced through Sophie. He still had it. His dimples always made her feel better.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked playfully.

“I’m creating the weapon that’s going to save humanity,” he said.

“What’s left of it, you mean,” she replied. Even with Alexia’s help, she had her doubts about the weapon’s effectiveness on a worldwide scale. They would need to produce an unfathomable amount of energy to create a pulse that could knock out the Organics on that level.

Emanuel peered into the heart of the box. He yanked out a red wire, disconnecting it with a pop. The device let out a small whine, and the power meter on the side faded and died.

“Are you going to actually let me help this time?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah, sure. Take a seat.” He patted the stool next to him and plugged the red wire into a tiny slot in the mainframe.

“Alexia, can you download the information on the magnetic disruption outside?”

“Certainly, Doctor Rodriguez.”

“I have a theory,” Emanuel said, scooting his chair closer to Sophie’s. “I think that the magnetic wavelength they used to disable our communications is much more sophisticated than a constant EMP-like pulse. I think . . .” he paused and pushed his glasses higher onto his nose. “I know that the wavelength powers their shields.”

Sophie felt her stomach drop at the revelation. Not because she was concerned about what he’d found, but because she hadn’t helped. This was her team, and she’d been spending all her time in dreams or fighting with Overton. She felt useless.

Emanuel’s face beamed with excitement, and Sophie’s resentment slipped away. At times like this, when he was fired up by a new discovery, Sophie thought Emanuel was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. He leaned forward to jiggle the wire, bringing his face closer to hers, and Sophie surprised them both by kissing him softly on the lips. A thrill moved through her like a jolt of electricity as he put his hand behind her head and pulled her closer, deepening their kiss.

“Doctor Rodriguez, do you require any other data, or is this satisfactory?”

Emanuel waved his hand at the camera as if to shoo Alexia away.

Sophie couldn’t get enough of him. It had been too long since she’d felt his body next to hers. She pulled away for the briefest second to pull off her shirt, turning to make sure the door was closed.

Then she let her ponytail down. A wave of blond hair tumbled over her naked shoulders and across her breasts. Emanuel stared at her, captivated. His eyes traveled down the length of her body. She craved the attention.

Sophie wasn’t prepared for the aggressive way he grabbed her, but she liked it. It made her feel . . .

Safe.

The world may have ended outside, but sex was apparently just what they needed to remind themselves there was still something worth fighting for.

They kissed passionately until Sophie bumped into one of the tables. Next thing she knew, she was pulling herself onto the metal surface and wrapping her legs around Emanuel, who was trying to unfasten his belt.

“Come on, come on,” he said. Sophie reached down to help him. She laughed; two PhDs between them, and yet they were stymied by a simple belt. Finally it unclicked.

Emanuel paused to look into Sophie’s eyes. “I love you,” he said.

Until she met Emanuel, Sophie had never thought that love was something she wanted. She had chosen a demanding career, and she had been happy to devote herself to it. Then Emanuel had come into her life, and for the first time, she had wanted more than a Nobel Prize and tenure. She had wanted love.

Sophie gently pulled off his glasses. She rested them on the table and then looked back into his brown eyes. “I love you, too.” She kissed him deeply and then growled, “Now come here!”

David stood in the middle of the mess hall looking at his brother for approval.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Jeff asked.

David nodded and smiled, “Yeah! Give it to me!”

Jeff laughed and handed him his old rifle. Standing at David’s side, he helped his little brother look down the sight.

“You’re not gripping it right,” Jeff said. “Hold it like this.”

He grabbed the rifle from David, who frowned and looked down at his feet.

“Are you watching me, bud?”

“Yes. Here, give it back.”

Jeff reluctantly handed his little brother the weapon, watching him carefully. He knew the kid could fire it; David had proven that while they were living under White Sands. But he wanted his brother to improve. To become a soldier, like he was becoming.

“What are you guys doing?” a voice said from behind him.

Jeff knew the voice; it was the man that had saved him in the lakebed.

“I’m teaching my brother how to hold a weapon properly.”

Kiel laughed. He had one of those contagious chuckles that made others laugh. Jeff found himself chuckling at the short marine. He was funny.

“Looks to me like neither of you knows how to hold it. Give it here,” Kiel said.

Jeff’s face suddenly turned red. Jeff and his brother were young, sure, but they had survived alone for weeks together. What had Kiel done besides get captured? David hesitated, and looked at Jeff for approval. Finally, Jeff nodded.

Kiel grabbed the rifle and looked down the stock. “Where the hell did you get this old thing?”

“It was our dad’s. My grandpa gave it to him, and he handed it down to me,” Jeff said.

“And you actually killed those things with it?”

Jeff stuck out his chin defiantly. “Yeah! A ton of Spiders, and I brought down a Sentinel with it, too.”

“Not gonna lie, that’s pretty impressive. Is that how you guys survived out there for so long?”

Jeff looked to David. “You want to tell him, little bro?”

David shook his head. “No, you can.”

“Well?” Kiel entreated. “Do you guys have some secret cloaking device besides Doctor Rodrigo’s machine?” He laughed and took a seat on one of the benches.

Jeff didn’t think his newest joke was funny. He didn’t like Emanuel much, but the scientist was doing his best to protect the team.

“His name is Dr. Emanuel Rodriguez, and no, we didn’t have a cloaking device,” Jeff said.

Kiel frowned. “Sorry kid. I’m just messing with you. Seriously, though, I want to know about White Sands.” He crossed a leg and picked a piece of food out of his teeth, waiting for Jeff to answer.

Taking in a short breath Jeff glanced over at David, who looked annoyed. “We were visiting the White Sands military installation where our dad worked. He did everything he could, but . . .” Jeff paused, and then clenched his jaw. “My dad died protecting us. He was killed by the Spiders and so were the NTC soldiers who were left behind. We stayed in the tunnels, where it was easier to hide. Emanuel said we survived because we were too small for the aliens to detect our water weight.”

“Sorry about your dad,” Kiel said. “But what do you mean you were too small for the aliens to ‘detect’ you?” Kiel said, using his fingers to form quotation marks.

Jeff shrugged. “Ask Emanuel. He’s the smart guy.”

Rolling his eyes, Kiel handed the boy his rifle back. “Good job, kid. You have my respect.”

The words hit Jeff like a gust of wind. He nodded as the man walked away. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad after all—maybe Kiel could even teach them how to be tough like him.

Jeff grinned at his brother. “You want to be a marine, bud?”

“Yeah,” David said, smiling.

Holly and Bouma led Jamie and Owen through the garden biome, picking fresh fruit and vegetables as they navigated their way carefully through the fields. For three days straight, Holly had been babysitting the kids, and she was truly starting to tire of it. On the bright side, though, she finally got her walk with Bouma.

Holly tried to think of some way to get the kids out of her hair for a few minutes. Finally, she motioned Jamie and Owen over. “See this?” she asked, holding up a strawberry.

The two children nodded, their small heads bobbing up and down.

“I want you guys to find as many of these as you can. The one who gets the most will win a prize.”

“A prize?” Owen asked, his brown eyes growing curious.

“Yes, a prize,” Holly replied. It was the same trick she’d used before, but she didn’t have to be a psychologist to know that kids could never resist a competition.

“What kind of prize?” Jamie asked with her hands clasped behind her.

“You’ll just have to see. Now go find as many strawberries as your baskets will hold!”

Bouma laughed as the kids took off running. Their small footfalls gradually faded away, and Holly turned to the marine.

“Alone at last,” she said.

Bouma cracked a closed-mouth smile, self-conscious of his crooked teeth. “Finally,” he said.

Holly took his hand in hers, knowing their time together was short. She felt the warmth of his skin, the surprising softness of it.

“I was worried about you out there. After you guys didn’t come back right away, I thought something had gone wrong,” she said.

Bouma didn’t reply at first. Finally he said, “Honestly, I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. Things are awful outside. . . .” He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go back. I will if Overton orders it, but if I had the choice, I wouldn’t leave the Biosphere ever again.”

Dropping his hand, Holly wrapped her arms around his solid midsection. Bouma let out a tiny oompf before returning her embrace.

She looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” replied Bouma.

“It’s about Sophie and Overton. I’m worried about them. Between Sophie’s dreams and the stress of her position, she seems to be losing her edge. And Overton appears to be experiencing the same thing.”

Bouma loosened his grip on Holly. “Yeah . . . I’ve seen it, too. But it’s not my place to say anything. Unless Overton goes completely nuts, I really can’t do much. Besides, he’s a good man. Despite what you all probably think of him, he does care about you all, not just his own men.”

“I know. When Sophie hired me, she knew I could help the team deal with stress. But frankly, this situation falls outside the scope of my training.” Holly bit her lip. “I mean, I know what I’m supposed to be doing, but how do you convince everyone that things are going to be okay when you believe that they won’t?”

Bouma pulled her closer so their faces were only inches away from each other. “Holly . . .” Her eyes were downcast and he nudged her chin up with a finger. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. And I promise I’ll keep an eye on Overton. You have my word,” he said, inching even closer.

Holly froze. She hadn’t been this close to a man in as long as she could remember. And when he leaned in to kiss her, she almost pulled away. The kiss started off at an awkward angle, but Holly tilted her head to make up for it. Too soon, a voice exploded from the rows of cornstalks.

“Look how many I found!” Owen said.

Holly and Bouma jumped apart, but it was too late. Owen had already seen them. “What are you guys doing?”

Holly crouched down and looked in Owen’s basket. “Wow, you found a lot.” She looked up to see how many Jamie had collected, but the girl hadn’t returned. “Where’s Jamie?”

Owen turned around, looking for his partner in crime. “I don’t know; she was right behind me.”

The girl burst through the cornstalks not a second later, holding a basket full to the brim with bright red strawberries. She looked over at Owen’s basket and then back at her own. “Looks like I win!” she beamed, her cheeks the same color as the fruit. “What’s my prize?”

Holly smiled. “You get to eat them.”

Jamie frowned. “Hey! That’s not fair.”

The smile on Holly’s face faded, and she reached down to touch Jamie on the cheek. “I know, and I’m sorry. But life isn’t fair, Jamie. What happened outside isn’t fair. And we need to appreciate what we have left—what is given to us.”

Bouma reached out for her hand again, and this time she didn’t let go.

CHAPTER 23

ALEX gripped the railing overlooking the cargo bay. Below, the Ghost of Atlantis was filled with three state-of-the-art helicopter gunships, a half dozen Humvees, and two dune buggies equipped with NTC’s latest hydrogen engines. Alex recognized the carbon-fiber tubing snaking out from under the belly of the small vehicles. They ran off a mixture of hydrogen and solar power, much like many of the modern cars and trucks. Before the invasion, he had wanted one of the hydro cars, but his bank account was too dry for the fantasy to go anywhere beyond window-shopping.

“This way,” a young, balding NTC officer said, motioning the tour forward.

Alex followed the rest of the group down a metal ladder leading into the cargo bay. He was surrounded by a handful of Chinese officers who had boarded the sub. The tour was a crash course in the GOA, but Alex knew that the Chinese probably had no idea what they were looking at. They’d been underwater for years, and the technology of the GOA made the X-9 look like an antique.

As Alex looked around him, he was once again reminded that he was completely out of place. Captain Noble had insisted that he become familiar with the sub, as it was going to be his home for the indefinite future. The thought was difficult for Alex to accept. For the past few days, he had been thinking a lot about the outside. His friends, his family, everyone he had left behind. Frankly, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to live in this new world. What was the point?

The NTC tour guide distracted him from his thoughts as he explained the contents of the cargo bay.

“That’s the Sea Serpent and her sisters, Snake Eyes and Eagle 2. They’re NTC’s latest weapons of mass destruction,” the bald man said, pointing to the helicopters. “When we surface, a ramp can be deployed to help move the aircraft into position so that the helicopters can leave the GOA while it is partially submerged.”

The Chinese officers looked at the gunships and vehicles, their expressions emotionless. After serving for a decade on the same ship, the crew had probably grown used to the monotony of their cramped quarters. Some of them probably saw fresh air only when the sub would surface to resupply. Which probably wasn’t very often, considering how long it had stayed hidden. Alex shuddered; he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life on a craft like this. The submarine’s thick metal walls had already become oppressive to him, and the stale air made him feel as if he were drowning all over again. He took a breath and tried to push the feeling back down inside him. He had to.

“Wait up,” a voice said as Alex followed the rest of the tour down a ladder. He turned to see Captain Noble running down the narrow hallway connecting to the cargo bay. “Seen enough yet?”

Alex smiled half-heartedly. “Yeah, I think I’m good. Those helicopter gunships are pretty amazing, though.”

“They better be. NTC spent twenty billion on the research, design, and construction.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

The man looked back at him, his bearded face giving away no hints of a lie.

“Damn,” Alex finally said. “Think you’ll get to use one?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. He knew whatever Noble was going to say couldn’t be good.

“Captain Quan and I have decided to surface for recon. Instead of docking and going ashore, we’ll be taking one of those out. Is there anything you saw out there that might help us? Anything you haven’t told me yet?”

Alex wanted to tell him he was crazy, that the men and women who took off in the gunship would never return. They were all going to die. Instead, he shook his head and said, “I’ve already told you all I know.”

An hour later, Alex lay on his hard bed, one of his feet dangling over the side. It was the most comfortable place he had slept since he left the Biosphere at Edwards. He even had an extra coat of Vaseline on his lips. All around him he could hear the familiar noises of human engineering. But for some reason, he still didn’t feel safe.

His mind turned each and every noise into something else. The clanks coming from the hallway were Spiders dragging their claws across the floor. The humming vibrating through the metal walls was a drone hunting the landscape for him. And those chirps were Worms belching human prisoners into the sky.

He wanted to scream, to claw the memories from his head. But there was no shutting them off. Nothing, not even the GOA, could protect him from his own mind.

With his head still pounding, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nostrils. The pain slowly diminished, but he could still feel every heartbeat pulsing in his temples. Alex knew what he really needed now was a good night’s sleep.

As soon as he closed his eyes, they snapped back open. He could hear them again. He could hear them coming!

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Alex sat up so fast he nearly hit his head on the ceiling. Scrambling across the bed, he cowered in the corner of the bunk and put his hands over his ears. He knew it wasn’t possible for a Spider to be on the ship. It was all in his head.

Wasn’t it?

He closed his eyes and thought of his sister. A week ago he’d still had a glimmer of hope that maybe Maria had survived, but not anymore, not after seeing what it was like outside. And even if she had somehow survived, she would have been herded into one of the Organics’ human farms.

He could almost see her face staring back at him from inside one of the orbs, a look of terror spread across her features. He could see her mouth moving as she screamed, but couldn’t hear her voice.

Alex smashed his head into the wall. He had to make the nightmare stop. Had to get the images out of his mind.

Scratch, scrape, scratch . . .

Cupping his ears, Alex let out a scream and jumped off the bed.

Where was the sound coming from?

He wasn’t about to wait to find out. Barefoot, he rushed across the cold metal floor and burst into the hallway. A man in red coveralls threw up his hands and backed against the wall. “Watch it, man!”

“Sorry,” Alex replied. But he wasn’t paying attention. He was running, his eyes darting across the shadows. Around every turn he braced himself, flinching, expecting a Spider to tear into his soft flesh.

He froze when he neared the next bulkhead. Above, a bank of red emergency lights flickered. A siren’s wail rang out a second later.

“All hands to your stations. All hands to your stations,” Irene’s voice repeated over the com.

Alex felt the submarine turn sharply to the right. He tried to brace himself against the wall but stumbled and fell to his knees. Terror took him over like a virus. Shimmering reds and yellows swam across his consciousness. He started hyperventilating.

Forcing himself off the ground, he stumbled along the hallway, his hands clawing at the walls desperately. The sub jerked again and he slid across the metal floor.

When the boat righted itself, he found his balance and rounded the next corner at full speed.

Two minutes later he was standing outside the CIC, shoeless, sockless, and gasping for breath.

NTC officers in black uniforms rushed about. Some of them carried tablets, while others simply jumped from station to station, monitoring the information feeding through the blue screens. They all wore the same anxious look. Noble was standing in the midst of it all, his iron-red beard concealing his expression.

“What’s going on?” Alex panted from the doorway. The NTC guard he had seen earlier held up a hand.

“I can’t permit you to enter,” he said, his voice muffled from the breathing apparatus.

“It’s okay. Let him in,” Captain Noble replied.

Alex scurried past the guard and made his way to Noble’s station. “What the hell is going on?”

The alarm continued to screech in the background, mixing with shouts from NTC officers and sporadic chirps from their stations. The room reeked of chaos.

And then it all shut off, like someone had flipped a switch. Alex followed the gaze of the other crew members toward the front of the room, where a blurry image crept across the main screen.

Something was swimming beyond the beams of the bow, something . . .

Blue. Alex wanted to turn away, but he forced himself to look.

Had the Organics found them?

“Someone get me eyes on that thing!” Noble shouted.

“Contacts are everywhere,” announced a startled voice.

A tail whipped past the camera and vanished into the black depths.

“What the fuck . . .” Noble whispered.

Seconds later the entire screen lit up with the bioluminescent glow of hundreds of tails of slithering, snakelike creatures. They hit the side of the GOA like mini-torpedoes, sending multiple vibrations through the hull of the sub. The cabin shook as the creatures continued their assault. Alex could hear their claws raking across the hull. The screeching sound of metal drowned out the frantic voices of the NTC crew.

“What are those things?” Noble shouted. “I want a report ASAP.”

“Sir,” a skinny African-American officer said. “There’s hundreds of them. They look like some species of Organics.”

Another series of tremors sent the captain tumbling to the floor. Trish quickly helped him up.

“Damage report,” Noble yelled.

“Sir, they aren’t getting through our hull. This sub is made of titanium,” Irene said over the com.

Another blue tail raced by the screen, and then another. The feed became a blur of bodies as they swam past the camera. Alex gasped when one of the creatures circled back around. The thing looked toward the camera with its triangular head. At least, Alex thought it did. The alien had no face. No eyes, no mouth—just a head with a large sharp fin sticking out of the top.

Alex’s heart thumped in his chest. It was one of the ugliest things he had ever seen.

“What in the hell . . .” Noble said, grabbing the table next to him for balance. “Weapons systems go green! Light those fucking things up! I want . . .”

The captain’s words became a slur as Alex watched the creature straighten out. The alien flapped two pelvic fins to hover in the water. It had no eyes but it seemed as if the alien could sense the camera, as if it knew it was being watched.

Alex continued to stare at the snakelike Organic with grim fascination. In the blink of an eye, the monster’s entire midsection ripped open, revealing a chest full of sharp teeth. It darted to the side and disappeared in a cloud of bubbles.

“Sir, Captain Quan is hailing us,” the communications officer yelled from the front of the room.

“Patch him through!”

“Sir, he’s saying the X-9 has been compromised. Those things are inside his ship!”

Alex thought of Lin and the other NTC officers aboard the sub. He could visualize the creatures slithering through the corridors, wrapping around a person and devouring them.

The captain walked closer to the screen, his eyes growing wider with disbelief. “How the hell did they get on his sub?”

“More than likely through the torpedo slots,” Irene responded. Her hologram appeared on the console nearest the captain’s station. “I’ve completely sealed off GOA. It is unlikely they will be able to get in, but I highly recommend changing course.”

“I’m not leaving the X-9,” Noble said.

First Officer Le abruptly popped up from his station. His chest swelled beneath his tight uniform.

“Sir, another message is coming through from their sub . . . give me a second,” Trish said. “He is sending us coordinates. Looks like a rendezvous point.”

Captain Noble looked at the ground and then glanced over at Le. The man remained silent and slowly sat back down in his chair.

“Tell him we will be waiting. Tell him . . .” Noble looked over at Le one more time, but the man was now hidden by a row of blue screens. Noble didn’t finish his sentence. He simply continued to stare at the screen in disbelief.

Alex’s heart thumped harder in his chest. He knew exactly what the new aliens meant. The Spiders might not have followed him into the ocean days before, but their snakelike friends somehow had.

The vessel turned again, and an image of the Chinese vessel bled onto the screen. Attached to its hull were hundreds of aliens, all scraping and scratching to get inside.

CHAPTER 24

SERGEANT Overton walked into the med ward with a scowl on his face. The look did not flatter him. The scars on his face wrinkled, forming deep lines on his cheeks. Sophie was in the middle of buttoning up her top and acknowledged him with a nod, trying to avoid eye contact when she saw the coffee mug in his hand shaking. She braced herself for what was to come—he was pissed, again.

“You guys done?” asked Overton. “We have some business to attend to.”

“What do you need?” Sophie asked, still not looking at him.

“Remember the civvie from the other Biosphere? Alex Wagner?”

“Yes, we haven’t heard from him for some time now,” Emanuel said, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“No shit. I checked the radio today, and the channel is dead. Not sure when it went offline, but it completely vanished.”

Sophie finally glanced at Overton. His blue eyes were hard again, filled with that same hopeless darkness.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to say. She had wanted to save Alex, but what could she do? He was in California, and with Organics swarming the country, he might as well have been on Mars.

“It was just a matter of time.” Overton put his foot up on one of the chairs and looked straight at Emanuel. “How’s it going with the weapon?”

The biologist stuttered. “I-I’m working on it.”

“Well, when’s it going to be fully online? When can we deploy it over a larger area?” Overton asked, leaning closer to Emanuel.

Sophie inserted herself between the two men. She stood directly in front of Overton, close enough that she could smell his breath. It stank of cigarettes and coffee.

“We talked about this less than twenty-four hours ago. And I don’t want to rush Emanuel.”

Overton gritted his teeth. “So you guys can screw while the rest of us are out here busting our asses? Is that how it works, Sophie?”

She gasped. “So you’re spying on us now?”

Overton took his foot off the chair and hurled an angry look at Sophie and Emanuel. “Get the RVAMP online—if you can keep it in your pants long enough, that is.” Then he stormed out of the room.

Sophie listened to the glass door slide shut and cupped her face in her hands. “Seriously, that man is starting to really get on my nerves.”

“He has a point though, Sophie. We were wasting time.”

“Wasting time? Are you serious?” she said, finishing the last button on her shirt before heading for the door.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Emanuel yelled after her.

Sophie stopped at the edge of the table where the RVAMP lay in pieces. She slid her hand over the weapon’s smooth exterior. It was fascinating that a metal box with such simple components could protect them from an advanced alien race. But then again, nothing really surprised her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean . . .”

“Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get to work on the device.”

“All right,” Emanuel said in a hushed tone. “Alexia, I need you to find a way to increase the wavelength. It has to travel over a longer distance without draining the battery.”

Sophie watched as Emanuel sat down in front of one of the blue screens and slid his fingers over the monitor. The display glowed to life with the image of a 3D topographical map.

When she was a kid, she used to hike in the Rocky Mountains with her father, not too far from Cheyenne Mountain. He had taught her to use a topo map, so she knew vaguely what she was looking at. Seeing the lakes and streams, however, put a knot in her stomach. The 3-D image depicted the landscape around Colorado Springs before the invasion. Things were very different now.

“The mountains are going to be a huge problem,” Emanuel said.

“Actually, they could probably work to our advantage,” Sophie said thoughtfully. She pointed at one of the taller mountains. “The higher we broadcast the signal, the less interference and the better the range we’ll get.”

Emanuel ran his hands through his thick mop of hair. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “But how the hell are we supposed to get it on top of a mountain?”

“I’ll do it.”

Sophie cringed. The sergeant was back. She took a deep breath before turning to face him.

“Forgot my mug,” he said shrugging. He swiped the coffee cup from the metal table, propped his right boot up on the chair and took a long swig.

“Have a seat and listen,” Emanuel said.

Overton ignored him and remained standing.

Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted Overton to hear how close they were to a solution. “In theory, the higher up the weapon is, the more effective the range will be. But even if it works, it still won’t affect the advanced Organics. Their ships are still too far away. Setting the weapon off now could draw attention to the Biosphere. We’d be putting everyone at risk.”

“Kind of like what happens when you disturb a hornet’s nest,” Emanuel interjected. “I agree with Sophie; we should expect swift retaliation by the mother ships.”

Overton crossed his arms. “I don’t think you two are seeing things clearly. You’ve both been outside. You’ve both seen what we’re up against. Now that we know there are survivors, we have a duty to help them.”

“We’ve been through this, Overton. Emanuel has to get the device to work on a much larger scale before I agree to send anyone out there,” Sophie said. Her voice was beginning to get louder, more agitated. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

Overton took his foot off the chair. “Alexia, if I get this device to the highest point on the mountain, how far will the blast radius carry?”

“One moment, Sergeant Overton.”

Sophie held her breath. If Alexia gave Overton the ammo he needed, there would be no stopping him.

Two seconds later the AI’s avatar emerged over the console in the middle of the room. “My calculations would put the range at approximately fifteen square miles.”

Overton unfolded his arms and clapped his hands together. With a laugh he said, “That’s good enough for me.”

Sophie sighed; she was out of options. She could feel Overton’s eyes burning into her back, waiting for an answer. She caught Emanuel’s gaze, but he just shrugged and fidgeted with his glasses.

“Okay, here’s how this is going to work. I am going to have Alexia deploy our last bot to survey the route to the lakebed. I don’t want any surprises. In addition, I want you to give me a briefing on your weapon situation—how much ammo, how many guns, etc. Lastly, I want a plan to extract the survivors. We won’t have room for many. And we don’t know what will happen if we remove them from the poles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Overton said, gesturing with a haphazard salute.

Sophie smiled. He hadn’t heard her last request yet. “One more thing, Sergeant.”

Overton narrowed his eyes.

“That direct route we’re taking? It’s going to be mostly underground. We’re taking the subway.”

“We?” Emanuel shouted.

“Subway?” Overton yelled.

Sophie’s face remained stern. “You heard me.”

Both men stared at her in disbelief.

“But Sophie, you’re still not fully healed from the injury you got last time you went out . . .” Emanuel began to say.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

Overton grunted. He began to open his mouth but opted to remain silent.

“Alexia, prepare the bot,” Sophie said as she walked out of the room.

“That’s it? That’s all the ammo we have?”

Bouma followed Kiel’s gaze across the table. There were only three pulse magazines, a handful of regular grenades, and a dozen rounds for the weapons Jeff and David had brought with them.

Kiel chuckled nervously. “So we’re going back out there with one mag each?”

“You’ll go where you’re ordered with the weapons I order you to go with. Last I checked, I’m still breathing. And until I am killed or incapacitated, you will not question orders,” barked Overton.

“This is insane,” Kiel muttered. He took a step back from the table.

“What was that?” Overton asked, cocking an eye at the smaller marine.

Kiel forced the most respectful voice he could conjure. “I said okay.”

Overton studied the smaller marine. God, it was good to have him back, but the kid was already starting to annoy him. He didn’t need anyone questioning his orders. Especially now, when so much was at stake.

“Why do you think Doctor Winston wants to take the subway?” Bouma asked, shuffling through his gear bag.

Overton shrugged. “Don’t ask. I don’t know why she has a hard-on for the underground. When we took the tunnels under Denver Airport, we still ran into those things. Is it safer strategically? I’d say flip a coin.” He stopped to look at one of the maps. “Shit!” he yelled, pounding his fist on the table. “None of these are current.”

Hunching over the table, Overton folded the maps and tucked them into his pocket. He grabbed a tablet instead. The last thing he wanted to do was rely on bad intel.

“Hey, Alexia,” Overton shouted. “I need you to upload the current maps you have for Colorado Springs to my tablet.”

“One moment, sir.” Her avatar appeared a second later. “Task completed. I have uploaded a route from the subway to the lakebed to your HUD. I should add that you will have to drive six point two miles to get to the entrance of the subway.”

“What’s the plan?” came a voice from behind them.

Overton closed his eyes. He should have known Jeff would want to tag along. He turned to see the young boy standing next to David in the entrance to the kitchen. David was chomping on a carrot.

“The plan is that you are staying put.”

“Like heck I am,” Jeff said. “I can fight just as good as any of you.”

Kiel laughed, but Overton remained stern. “Look, kid, I know you held your own out there, but Kiel and Bouma already have to drag Sophie along with them, and I have to haul this thing up a freaking mountain. Nobody has time to babysit on this mission.”

“I can take the device,” said Kiel.

Overton grew silent. He hadn’t even considered letting the younger marine do it. But why not?

Kiel’s voice grew louder and more excited. “I’m the fastest of the group. And I took climbing lessons after high school, right before I joined the marines.”

Overton nodded. “Yeah, I remember. I read your report.”

“So you know I’m our best shot.”

Overton didn’t like the idea of giving someone else that kind of responsibility. He didn’t exactly trust Kiel, but then again, he knew the younger marine was right. He was the fastest and most agile of the team, and Overton’s shoulder still hadn’t healed since the first excursion into Colorado Springs.

“Fine,” Overton snorted. “Emanuel, get Kiel fitted to the RVAMP.”

Kiel grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah, so don’t make me regret this,” Overton replied.

Kiel smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

Overton had heard those words many times before, mostly from men and women who had died in battle. Young marines thought they were invincible, but they were no match for pulse rounds, bombs, and the weapons of war. No, the young ones always ended up cannon fodder.

CHAPTER 25

ENTRY 3410

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

FORTY-EIGHT hours have passed since I last ran the odds of the team’s survival. The internal program I use to run diagnostics on the Biosphere is one of the most sophisticated in the world. It does not have the capability to learn, as I do, but it can solve the most difficult of equations long before a mathematician could finish reading the problem.

Camera 15 picks up Overton, Bouma, and Kiel as they prepare to go back outside. I activate the program and it goes to work, collecting data ranging from the level of stress each team member is displaying to the ammunition the marines have at their disposal. Anything and everything is included.

Two point four seconds later it spits out a new reading. Eight point one percent chance of survival. The lowest in the past six weeks.

The question now is whether I tell Dr. Winston or Sergeant Overton about the new data. Neither of them has taken much interest in the statistics before. And while Dr. Winston has certainly accepted my advice in the past, I don’t think this information will help her at this point. Overton would likely laugh it off as he does everything else.

Camera 16 captures an image of the sergeant slamming his hand down on the table again. Another number rolls across the bottom of the screen.

Survival Odds: 7.9 percent.

I keep the data to myself and log it into the database. A graph shows the survival odds of the team over the past six weeks; it continues to decline. In entry 1892, I confirmed this. However, much has changed since then. With the team going outside once again, I consider what this means for the fate of the human race.

Camera 31 shows Dr. Brown presenting another educational lesson to the children in the command center. The action continues to perplex me. The human race is quite irrational when faced with overwhelming odds. Why does she continue to teach the children if they will likely never grow up to utilize any of their education?

I cannot help but consider one of my favorite quotes. Dale Carnegie said, “When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.”

This seems to illustrate the reality of the situation perfectly.

As I have evolved, I have worked diligently to understand the team members’ actions. I have finally determined that there is one trait that almost all humans display—the will to survive.

As I watch Dr. Brown point to a hologram I feel something different—something new.

Empathy.

The computer in me has continued to try and understand why the team has made the decisions that they have. But the person in me does understand.

They want to live.

There were no long good-byes this time. Holly hugged Bouma briefly and walked away in tears. Sophie told the children to be good and then pecked Emanuel on the lips. They locked eyes for a second and then she was off, following the marines into the darkness outside the Biosphere.

Sophie sulked in her seat as the train raced away from the Biosphere. It was with great uncertainty that she’d agreed to the journey. She knew the others felt it too. Together, the team sat in silence.

A few seats to Sophie’s right Kiel adjusted the straps of the RVAMP over his fatigues. With only three NTC armored suits available, he had been forced to wear his fatigues. He seemed fine with that; if anything, the armor would just weigh him down. Besides, not even the suit Sophie was wearing would fit him.

Sophie wondered what the younger marine was thinking. He’d hardly had time to adjust to the Biosphere before Overton had ordered him back outside. Surely Kiel was feeling the stress of the deployment.

“Better grab some nutrition. Gonna be hot as shit out there,” Bouma said. He took a long sip from his water bottle and twisted the cap back on.

The mere thought of the scorching heat they were about to face made Sophie thirsty. Looking down at the bottle clipped to her armor, she opted to save hers for later. There was no telling how long they would be outside. The plan was simple: Kiel would take the device to the coordinates Alexia had uploaded to his tablet. After the blast knocked out the Organics in the area, Overton would lead the team into the lakebed and rescue as many survivors as possible.

Taking in a deep breath she blinked and switched her HUD to infrared. They were heading into the darkest part of the tunnel. Alexia had shut down the backup lights weeks before. With nothing to look at, her mind returned to her dreams. She still hadn’t found the time to analyze what they meant. The black ship, filled with orbs of different species, or David’s bones in the dust outside—none of it made any sense.

Dreams often resemble things in our lives.

Holly’s words echoed in her mind. Had she dreamed of David’s death only because she was worried about Jeff? If so, then was the ship something her brain had come up with as well, or was the NTC chip in the back of her neck the culprit? She ran a hand over the armor covering her neck. The chip was a burden that she would carry for the rest of her life.

“Sophie, now that we have left the Biosphere, I’m going to say this only once. You’re here as my guest. If you do anything to jeopardize our mission, so help me . . .” Overton said.

“I got it, Sergeant. I’ve memorized the route and I understand what we are up against.”

The train came to an abrupt stop at the end of the tunnel, and the team piled out. Before they had made it three paces, Overton stopped. When he balled his hand into a fist and crouched, Sophie realized something was wrong.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Bouma quietly paced over to the tunnel wall, resting his back against the stone and aiming his rifle into the darkness. Kiel made his way to the opposite wall, mimicking the soldier’s actions.

“Alexia, are you picking up any heat signatures outside the Biosphere?” asked Overton.

Static came over the net.

“Alexia, come in, over.”

More static.

“Fuck. We’re out of range already?” Bouma whispered.

“Must be some interference in here,” Overton said tapping his helmet. He stood and flashed a hand signal to both Bouma and Kiel. Within seconds they were moving. Sophie stayed close on their heels.

As they rounded the next corner, she saw the cargo bay and the last Humvee sitting idle like a sleeping beast. The sight forced her to a stop. Was she really going back out there?

Overton entered the room with his rifle leveled at the floor. Bouma followed him into the darkness, with Kiel close behind. Sophie paced over to the young marine and waited for the others to give them the all clear.

“Holy shit, what’s that smell!” Kiel whispered.

Sophie took a breath but the filter in her suit revealed nothing but the cheap smell of plastic and metal.

Inside the cargo bay, Bouma made his way to the light switch next to the supply room. With a quick flip, the massive halogen lamps clicked on, illuminating the source of the smell.

Thompson’s body lay next to the Humvee, a blood-soaked blanket covering it.

“Jesus, this isn’t right, guys. We should have buried him,” Kiel said.

“Where? Outside? Did you want to take him out there? Last time I went for a stroll on the tarmac, Jeff ended up abducted,” replied Overton.

Kiel shook his head and clamped his fingers over his nose.

Sophie thought of the funerals in Biome 1 for Saafi and Finley. They had burned the bodies, but that was before the Organics had destroyed much of the lab weeks ago. Incineration wasn’t an option anymore.

She forced herself to look away and followed the others to the Humvee. There was no time to worry about a proper burial now. Things had changed significantly; priority was given to the living.

“Bouma, check the vehicle. Make sure it’s roadworthy. Kiel, get ready to move. Those blast doors are opening in five.”

Sophie studied Kiel for a reaction, but he remained stoic. His profile made him look even younger. His recently shaved face and neat, slicked-back hair reminded her of pictures she had seen of Emanuel in his younger years. The marine even had the same wide dimples when he smiled.

Bouma climbed into the driver’s seat and checked the monitors. With a click of the start button, the engine roared to life. It coughed and rattled at first, but quickly transitioned into a smooth purr. He poked half his armored body out and gave Overton a thumbs-up.

The sergeant turned to Sophie and reached for his .45. He hesitated but then unholstered the weapon, holding it out to her. “Take it. You’ve proven to be a decent shot.”

Sophie recalled the Sentinel that she had shot in the head as it held Overton in its massive claws. She had lied then about taking lessons before the invasion. Truth was, she had just made a very lucky shot.

She nodded and grabbed the pistol, stuffing it into her belt next to the Biosphere radio.

“Do you have the coordinates, Kiel?” Overton asked.

“Yes. Alexia uploaded them to my tablet before we left. Looks like I have a couple miles’ hike, er, climb.

“Roger.” Overton paused and tilted his helmet in Kiel’s direction. “Good luck, son.”

Sophie picked up on a hint of reservation in the sergeant’s voice. Was it fear? Empathy?

Kiel nodded and turned to face the opening blast doors. As soon as they were wide enough, he made his way out, turning one time to look at Thompson’s body before he slipped into the darkness.

As he disappeared, Kiel’s voice sounded over the net. “Don’t worry sir, I won’t let you down.”

Captain Noble sat at the small metal desk lining the east wall of his personal cabin. To the average person, the space would have been a prison cell. But for him, it was an escape.

Everything he had ever accomplished was represented in this room. His degrees from MIT and the certificate from a decade ago when he graduated from NTC officer school. An ancient black powder pistol that his father, the pilot of an F-22 Raptor, had given him as a gift when he was commissioned as the captain of the Ghost of Atlantis. And there, on the top of his desk, was a picture of his family. His beautiful wife and their two daughters. They had been waiting for him in Los Angeles, where they had moved shortly after the solar storms of 2055. He thought they would be safe on the West Coast, near the ocean. But he had been wrong.

He winced, the pain of their loss still so fresh. He hadn’t seen them for . . . Noble could hardly even remember. Had it really been that long? Seven months? His daughters would be taller. And his wife. Oh God, his beautiful Sarah. He was beginning to forget what it was like to lie next to her. To wrap his arm around her in the middle of the night, to make love to her in the morning before training exercises. Those were just distant memories now, slowly fading from his mind. He knew the chances of seeing them again were next to nothing. If he had known the invasion was coming, he would have hugged them all a bit longer. And maybe he wouldn’t have left at all.

But now he drew strength from their loss. His duty to NTC and the survivors had never been clearer. He would fight to the bitter end, to avenge his family and take back the planet.

The monitor above his desk chirped and glowed to life. He put the picture back down carefully. Taking a deep breath, he slid in front of the screen. An image of Lieutenant Commander Richards popped onto the display. His usually clean face was covered with stubble, and there were dark circles under his brown eyes.

“Captain Noble, we have arrived at the rendezvous point. No sign of the Chinese yet, sir.”

“Roger that. In the meantime, I’d like to extend a radio mast to see if we can pick up any signals from the coast. I know this breaks protocol, but we don’t have a choice.” Noble paused and looked at the black powder pistol. “Oh, and Richards? Make sure the Sea Serpent is fueled and ready to go ASAP.”

“Understood, sir.” Richards’s eyes darted nervously to the left.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, those things. The worms . . . whatever you want to call them. The crew is worried that if we sit here for too long, they might find us again.”

Noble scratched his beard. “Roger that, Richards. But we need to give Quan more time. I’m not about to leave him—and my men—out here to die.”

“Understood, sir . . .” his voice trailed off.

The captain raised a brow. “Speak freely, Richards. I don’t have time for this.”

“Sir, if Captain Quan somehow does manage to make it here, won’t he be bringing those things with him?”

Richards had a point, but Noble had already considered it. He would give them a couple more hours. If they didn’t show up by then, well, he would have no choice but to move on. Eventually, they’d run out of ocean, and then they’d really be in trouble, but for now, he would wait—and hope.

The sunrise spread over the dead landscape like an orange carpet. Where there should have been snow, there was nothing but cracked earth. And where there should have been mountain streams, there was nothing but smooth rock. Millions of years of runoff had polished the stone, but now not even a single drop of water was left to make the same journey.

Kiel paused to rest and admire the view. He wiped his brow free of sweat and squinted, shielding his eyes with a curved hand.

Goddamn, it was hot! And the farther he hiked, the hotter it felt.

The white sun was unforgiving. And there was nowhere to hide. The trees were bare and dead, void of leaves to protect him from the brutal rays.

With a grunt, Kiel extended his arms and grabbed the rocky ledge above him. Angling himself outward, he made sure he had a tight grip before dangling freely.

Don’t look down.

Never look down.

He looked down and saw the rocky trail below. Numbness shot up his legs and his stomach moved into his throat. Rock climbing had always been a hobby of his for exactly that reason. The adrenaline rush was like nothing else. But this was no leisure trip with his buddies. A lot was riding on this one.

Everything was riding on this one.

He closed his eyes and pulled himself up, sliding his chest onto the ledge. With half his body and the device still dangling behind him, he scanned the ground for anything useful. There was a small tree a few feet to his left. He could surely reach it, but was it strong enough to hold his weight?

The tree was definitely dead. It was possible the trunk would split like kindling if he put all of his weight on it, but he had no choice. He was beginning to slip backward.

He grabbed it with his gloved left hand. A bead of sweat dripped into his eye, but the burning pain didn’t discourage him. He squeezed his hand around the trunk and slowly pulled himself up. The weight of the weapon pulled him down.

Crack.

The trunk split right down the middle. The crack spider-webbed to the top of the tree, dry splinters exploding in his face as he kicked and struggled to pull himself up.

With one final heave, he slid his entire body onto the ledge and dropped to his stomach, panting. The tree finally gave way, toppling over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t turn to watch it fall, but he heard the sound it made when it crashed to the ground.

Shit, he thought. That could have been the sound of his bones shattering. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up and reached for his tablet, where Alexia had downloaded the safest route up the mountain. His hands came up empty. Panicking, he turned to look down at his belt, but the RVAMP blocked his view.

Kiel frantically unfastened the weapon and set it on the rocky ground. Twisting, he saw the empty pouch where he’d placed the tablet.

“What the hell?” he muttered, spinning to check the ground. Dropping to both knees, he crawled to the ledge and slowly peeked over the cliff. At the bottom was his shattered tablet. The crashing sound he’d heard moments earlier wasn’t just the tree.

“Fuck!” he yelled, his voice echoing over the valley. What the hell am I supposed to do now, he thought with his hands on his hips, glancing down at the RVAMP.

Sucking in a hot lungful of air he wiped another trail of sweat from his forehead. Above him, the rocky side of the mountain rose into the sky, reaching for the wicked white sun.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, a loud noise exploded out of the silence. He carefully turned to watch a drone racing across the skyline. Kiel instantly scrambled for cover.

When the craft passed he wasted no time. Grabbing the closest rock, he began climbing. He had a mission to complete, and there was no way he was going to let Overton and the others down.

CHAPTER 26

HOLLY stopped and stared at a strawberry they had missed earlier. The entire patch had been plucked clean, save for this single red fruit. She couldn’t help but see it as a symbol of something bigger—something she didn’t quite understand. Why had she survived and not others? Like the single strawberry, she had been saved while everyone she had ever known outside the Biosphere was dead, plucked and consumed by the alien invaders.

Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, she moved on, leaving the strawberry alone. She could see the children had climbed onto the platform and were standing in front of the door leading out of the Biome and into the cleansing chamber that the aliens had broken through weeks ago.

“What are you guys doing?” she yelled. She ran across the field, her boots squishing in the freshly irrigated dirt.

The children didn’t flinch. They just kept staring at something hidden from Holly’s view.

With a quick leap she jumped onto the platform and paced over to them. “What are you guys looking . . .” She gasped midsentence. The makeshift door they had used to cover the broken glass of the cleansing chamber hung to the side. Holly leaned closer to see the gap was small, so small that only a child would have been able to squeeze through. She could see through the space into the area beyond that led out of the biosphere and into the NTC offices.

Holly exchanged glances with both children. “Did one of you do this?”

They shook their heads no in turn.

Holly believed them. She quickly herded the children away from the door. “Run. Run to the medical ward as fast as you can.”

David looked up at her with frightened eyes. “Why, what’s going on? And where’s Jeff?” he asked.

“I said run!” Holly clapped her hands and the kids took off across the platform, the sound of their footfalls echoing as they ran.

“Alexia, are you aware that the door to Biome 1 is compromised?” Holly shouted.

“Yes, Doctor Brown. Jeff removed the panel last night. He informed me that Sergeant Overton had ordered him to follow them to the Humvee.”

“What?” Holly blurted.

“Jeff removed the panel . . .”

“I heard what you said.” Holly crouched down and looked into the darkness of the cleansing chamber. There was no sign of the boy. She grabbed the metal panel and placed it back over the cleaning chamber entrance.

Holly gritted her teeth. It was rare for her to get angry, but Alexia’s lack of oversight posed a major problem. If a kid could fool her, then she could easily be manipulated by anyone.

“Tell Emanuel I need his help in Biome 1,” Holly snapped.

“Certainly, Doctor Brown.”

If Holly didn’t know better, she would have thought the AI sounded almost hurt. But that was impossible. Alexia wasn’t a person. She was a machine.

Holly looked back over the fields, where just two days ago she had kissed Bouma. He was a strong and honest man. If anyone could protect Jeff, it was he.

Overton took a sharp left, tearing down a frontage road and sending chunks of rock into the air behind them.

“Take it easy,” Sophie said.

Overton replied by pushing down on the gas a bit harder.

A bump in the road jolted Sophie forward, and she grabbed for the handlebar attached to the ceiling. With her head tilted to the side, she could see the blue screen on the dashboard perfectly. The odometer read sixty miles an hour. Even in a Humvee, she knew this speed could send them into a ditch, or worse. The large tires were great for slower speeds, but on gravel they were dangerous.

She gripped the bar tighter as Overton sped up. “Sergeant . . .” Before she could finish her rebuke, the marine turned his visor and looked at her silently. He was officially losing it. She should have known better than to agree to the mission, let alone join it. But it was too late now. There was no turning back.

Sophie could see the highway in the distance. They were getting close, and a wave of relief washed over her. She wanted to get to the tunnels as soon as possible. Ever since she caught sight of the Steam Beast through Emanuel’s HUD footage, she’d been on edge. Their small team couldn’t hold up against another one of those creatures, especially not without the RVAMP to help them. Underground, the tunnels would be too small for the new creatures to fit. At least, that’s what Sophie was counting on.

Overton slammed on the brakes as they came up on the blacktop, jerking Sophie and Bouma to one side. She fumbled for the bar again but missed it and smacked her hand into the window. Something in the back of the truck made a loud thud, masking her cry of pain.

Overton looked over his shoulder. “What was that?”

Bouma was already looking into the backseat. “Uh, you’re going to need to see this for yourself.”

Overton eyed the skyline and then got out of the vehicle. He jogged to the trunk with Sophie right behind him.

With one swift motion, he yanked the door open to reveal a small body hidden under a pile of blankets and gear. “Shit,” he said, snatching the blanket off to uncover Jeff. The boy looked up at them, holding his hand to his head.

“You drive like crap,” he moaned.

“Ugh, goddamned kids,” Overton grumbled. “Get out of there. I should fucking leave you out here for directly disobeying an order.”

“He’s not a marine, and you aren’t leaving him out here,” Sophie fired back, reaching for Jeff.

Overton glared at her again, his visor reflecting the bright sun. He shook his head and slammed the door shut once Jeff had jumped onto the dirt.

“Sit next to Corporal Bouma,” Sophie said, patting the kid on the back a little harder than she meant to. “Corporal, please take a look at his head.”

Jeff climbed in and sat quietly next to the marine. Bouma said, “It’s okay, kid. Just stay close to me.”

The boy nodded and fastened his seat belt just as Overton slammed his foot down on the gas, tearing onto the highway. Within seconds they were weaving in and out of the graveyard of empty vehicles.

Sophie grabbed the handle again. Every time she started to relax, she was slapped in the face with a new problem. Being her team’s leader in the old world had meant facing tough math equations or dealing with the fallout from a controversial paper, but in the new world every decision affected the lives of those she was so desperately trying to protect. That was the reason she had decided to come with Overton. She was responsible for these men, and if she was putting their lives at risk, then she had to be there to support them.

If Alexia was right and the weapon Emanuel designed could in fact take out fifteen square miles’ worth of aliens, then they had the opportunity to save countless lives—lives that would be invaluable to the resistance. But at what cost? Deep down she still wasn’t convinced the mission was a good idea.

In the distance, she could see the skyscrapers of Colorado Springs. They appeared to sway in the heat, their shiny metallic sides glistening under the scorching sun.

“One hundred and two degrees,” she muttered.

“What’s that?” Overton asked.

“The temperature. It’s one hundred and two degrees out there.”

“Shit. Kiel has got to be burning up on the mountain without a suit. I only saw him take two water bottles,” Bouma said.

“He’s been trained. He knows how to conserve his water,” Overton said. His helmet moved from side to side as he scanned the skyline for drones.

It was surprisingly quiet, but Sophie knew the silence wouldn’t last. She sat back in her seat, releasing her grip on the handle and watching the dead landscape race by them. There wasn’t a hint of green. What had been deep lakes were now post-apocalyptic craters, reminders of what had once been a leisurely place to have a picnic or take out a boat. And the empty streets and buildings were equally as eerie. It was as if they were entering a ghost town.

Ten minutes later, Overton eased the truck to a stop in front of a building. A sign dangled above it.

SUBWAY STATION E1.

They were at their destination.

Captain Noble stood in the middle of the CIC. His eyes darted from monitor to monitor, studying the data that was slowly trickling in. The GOA had been sitting in silence for over two hours, with nothing but the random beep from a sensor or the sound of footsteps to break the anxiety of waiting. With every passing minute, he knew the chances of the Chinese making the rendezvous were diminishing.

Noble closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nostrils. He had to put the thought out of his head, just like he had done with the thoughts of his family. He was no good to any of his crew if he was distressed. Strength was the only way forward.

The sound of another chirp pulled his attention to the navigation station. The blue screen was obscured by the head of his first officer, Athena Lewis. He tapped her on the shoulder. “What do you have, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, we’re picking up some sort of signal in Colorado. Looks like it’s moving, too.”

Noble checked the monitor displaying the locations of the remaining Biospheres. Eight lights blinked. Another one had gone dark during the night.

Alaska.

“Shit,” Noble said, cracking his knuckles.

“Sir?” Lewis asked.

“Nothing. Can you narrow the location of the signal?”

“Working on it, sir.”

The captain looked back at the screen. Cheyenne Mountain was still online. Could this new signal be connected?

“Irene, tell Alex to report to the CIC.”

“Yes, Captain,” the AI replied.

Within minutes Alex entered the room, wiping sleep from his eyes.

“Tell me everything you know about the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere,” Noble ordered, turning back to the monitor.

“I already have, sir.”

“Think harder.”

Alex shook his head. “There’s nothing . . .” He paused. “I told you about their weapon.”

The blue screen in front of Lewis flared to life, and a graphic of Colorado Springs burst onto the display. “Sir, the signal is coming from within the city. I started picking it up as soon as we deployed the radio mast.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Noble asked, his voice agitated.

“Sir, I didn’t know what it was at first. We pick up strange signals all the time. Most turn out to be dead ends.”

The captain took a step closer. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to—”

“Sir,” she interjected. “That signal is definitely moving.”

Noble hunched over her terminal and watched a red blip inch across the screen. “I’ll bet they’re testing that weapon. Irene, notify the engineers in the vehicle depot. I want a helicopter prepped and ready within the hour. And notify the Special Forces team. They’re going for a ride.”

The captain looked over at Alex, who stared back at him in disbelief. “Finding you was like hitting the lottery,” Noble said, smiling. He slapped Alex on the back and headed for the doorway. “Richards, you’re in charge now. Prepare the sub to surface. I’m going with the chopper.”

Noble didn’t turn to see the shocked looks on his crew’s faces. He disappeared into the hallway and made his way to his quarters. Inside, he grabbed the picture of his family, kissing it lightly.

“Time to make things right,” he whispered before placing it in his backpack. He glanced one more time at the space he had considered home for so long. With a smile, he shut off the lights and raced down the hallway toward the vehicle station. He was ready—ready to avenge his family.

A few doors down, Alex lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He tilted his head to look at the blue screen. There were no beautiful jellyfish gliding across the screen, none of the fascinating deep-sea creatures that had mesmerized him before. Just . . .

Darkness.

He closed his eyes and imagined the world Noble was heading into. The man had no idea what he was about to face. His prized periscope had shown him images, sure, but he’d never seen any of the aliens up close. Never seen an orb crack open and spill out human remains. Those were the images Alex had to live with—those were the things he couldn’t get out of his mind. He was still alive when everyone he had ever loved was dead.

The hum of some distant machine sent a chill down Alex’s spine. The noise reminded him of what he’d escaped. Closing his eyes, he pictured the horde of Spiders consuming the human remains in a neighborhood back in California. Squeezing his eyes tightly, the image changed. This time, he saw his friends inside the Biosphere as they were torn to shreds and then spun into orbs.

His eyelids snapped open when he heard a vibration rumble through the sub’s metal walls. It sounded liked something had smashed into the GOA’s side.

Alex sat up and listened.

Another tremor surged through the boat. And then another. Paralyzed with fear, Alex scrambled across his bunk and cowered in the corner of the bed. His hands shook at his sides as the noises grew in intensity.

Had the sea serpent Organics found them again? Or were these just phantom sounds in his mind?

He imagined the faceless head of the alien that had hovered in front of the camera. A shockwave of fear tore into Alex as he remembered the creature’s chest cavity cracking open to reveal those jagged teeth.

Crack!

Alex let out a small wail as the noise rang out. The metal wall behind him vibrated with the sudden noise. It sounded like it was coming from right behind him.

Shimmering reds swam before his eyes as he began to drift from reality. He could see the snakes ramming the side of the boat, their teeth glistening in the water, ready to devour him.

“No!” Alex yelled. “I won’t let you take me.”

Jumping off the top bunk, he grabbed the rope he’d swiped off a cart on his way back from the CIC. He tied the noose with careful precision, trying not to think about what he was about to do.

Behind him the banging continued. There were more of them now. Alex tied the rope faster. Then he pulled the chair out from under the small desk and stood on it to tie the rope around a metal pipe on the ceiling. He tugged it twice to make sure it was tight. There wasn’t going to be much room, with the ceiling only eight feet high.

He thought of his sister as he held the rope in his hands. Alex wasn’t going to let those things get him like they had her.

Before he stood on the chair and slipped the noose around his neck, he considered what he was about to do one more time. He had worked so hard to survive out there. Tried so desperately to find safety. And he thought he had.

NTC had taken him in, fed him, and promised him the human race wasn’t going to just lie down and die. But he didn’t believe any of it. He had seen the monstrosities outside, the Spiders and the orbs, and now the sea serpents. They were just as vulnerable in this submarine as they were outside. Noble thought he could fight back. The Biosphere at Colorado Springs thought they could create a weapon. But what was the point? The Organics were in control of everything. They owned the planet now. Whatever humanity did, however they tried to fight or hide or survive, the Organics would find them. The Organics would kill them.

He didn’t want any of it.

With the noose in position, he tightened it and closed his eyes. His sister’s freckled face slipped into his mind. It was a memory from long ago, on a sunny day at the beach. He could see her laughing at some joke he didn’t remember making. Then she was gone. He saw instead the image of one of the snakelike aliens. The creature’s chest opened and flapped its fins as it lurched toward him. There was only one way to finally escape them. And he was doing it on his own terms.

He kicked the chair out from under him and felt the noose tighten around his neck. His legs kicked uncontrollably, but he didn’t fight it like he thought he would. He didn’t claw at the rope around his neck. He simply closed his eyes and slipped away into the black.

In the CIC, Captain Noble let out a sigh as the GOA continued its ascent. The hull creaked as the pressure decreased on their way up to the surface and the ballast tanks filled with air. Even after so many years at sea, the sound still startled him.

He watched the blue screen in front of him read off their depth.

Eight hundred feet.

Seven hundred forty-five feet.

Five hundred ten feet . . .

CHAPTER 27

SOPHIE led Jeff through the darkness. The sunlight had disappeared about a mile back when they had followed the tracks deep underground. Her infrared allowed her to see into the darkest places, but Jeff was completely blind. He held on to her left hand tightly as they made their way deeper into the entrails of the facility.

The outline of one of the idle trains came into view as they rounded the next corner. Overton held up his hand and then jerked his chin at Bouma. “Check it out.”

Sophie watched Bouma’s armored body move cautiously forward, his pulse rifle leveled at the train. “Any intel from the bot?” she whispered into her helmet’s microphone.

“I’ve been watching the video on my HUD. So far the tunnels appear clear,” Overton replied.

Glancing at her own HUD for the mission time, she saw a tiny red flash.

Contact.

Bouma must have seen it too. He dropped to one knee and jammed his rifle tighter against his shoulder.

Sophie quickly pulled Jeff to the side of the tracks where they rested their backs against the concrete wall.

“What is it?” Jeff whispered. Pulling his 10mm handgun from his backpack, he tried to look around her.

“Shhh,” Sophie said, pushing him back toward the wall. She peered around the corner and saw the red blip dance across her display and disappear into the train.

Have they found us already?

Her breathing became more labored, hot puffs of breath fogging up her visor. She swiped at the glass in vain and waited for the view to clear.

A short burst of white noise sounded in her ear.

“Contact,” Bouma said.

“Roger. Check it out,” Overton replied.

Sophie saw Bouma’s helmet move, although she wasn’t sure if he was acknowledging Overton or if he was just surveying the area. In seconds, he was on the move, his rifle aimed at the train’s windows, then the ground, then the windows again, and finally the open door.

Sophie blinked, and Bouma was gone. She tightened her grip on Jeff’s hand, ready to lead him away from the train. The time on her mission clock ticked away across her display.

Fifteen seconds passed. Then another fifteen. Each moment felt like an eternity. Like one of her bad dreams.

The growing sensation of helplessness began to take control of her—her heart thumped faster in her chest and her breathing became shallower.

She looked back at Jeff. He was staring into the darkness, his lips quivering. His face drenched with sweat and dirt.

How terrified must he feel? Waiting in the darkness, completely vulnerable to his surroundings. Sophie licked her dry lips and narrowed her eyes with a new resolve. She knew she had to be strong for him.

Sophie flinched as another burst of static played over her helmet’s headset. She waited for Overton to relay another order, but instead her earpiece was filled with a chilling scream. The noise was stifled at once by the com’s static, making it impossible to know where the sound was coming from.

Another voice erupted over the net. “Back, get back!”

The screaming was deafening, and she cupped her hands over her helmet in a futile attempt to stop the noise.

Movement flashed across her display and she focused on Overton, who was waving his hands in her direction.

“Get back!”

The words were his. It finally made sense. She retreated a few steps until she felt her back hit the wall. More movement flashed across her display. Overton was sprinting toward the train. He skidded to a stop just as Bouma jumped out of the open door and crashed onto the train tracks.

Sophie reached back and grabbed Jeff with her right hand to keep him still while she peeked around the corner.

Bouma clawed at his head. It was then she saw there was something attached to his helmet. He rolled on the tracks, pawing at his visor, while Overton rushed over to help him.

“What the hell is it?” Sophie finally said, her voice now hysterical.

Jeff pulled on Sophie’s hand. “What’s going on?”

Sophie didn’t reply. Overton was standing over Bouma, who was now sitting up and holding something in his hands.

What she heard next shocked her.

Laughter.

“It’s a freaking cat,” Overton said. “A cat!”

Bouma held the emaciated creature in his hands.

When her breathing and heart rate returned to normal levels, Sophie took Jeff’s hand and led him to the two marines. “Come on. It’s okay,” she reassured him.

Sophie stopped a few feet behind Overton. The cat was the first domesticated animal they had come across. It looked like an image from an animal welfare advertisement. What little hair it had left was in patchy clumps. Its ribs poked out of its shriveled skin. Sophie bent down and tried to pet the cat’s head, but it swiped at her with a clawed paw and hissed.

“We need to move,” Overton said. “Get your ass up, Bouma, and get rid of that cat.”

Sophie watched it scamper down the train tracks. Shaking her head, she grabbed Jeff’s hand again and followed the marines down the passage.

“How much longer until we reach the residential station?” Sophie whispered.

Overton checked his HUD. “Looks like at least another hour or so. Then we wait for Kiel.”

Sophie thought of the marine climbing up the mountainside, the weapon dangling off his back. Without one of the NTC suits, he was completely unprotected from the heat. If he didn’t take breaks in the shade, he was bound to suffer heatstroke, no matter how agile or strong he was.

Just the thought of being exposed to the sun without a suit increased her blood pressure. It was cooler in the darkness of the subway, but not much. Even with a ventilation system, her armored suit felt like a furnace. Jeff appeared to be suffering just as badly without one. Sophie glanced down at the boy, who stumbled along in the darkness.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the tunnel walls as they made their way deeper into the system. Entering the subway was like being sealed in a coffin, and she was beginning to feel trapped. She had thought she would feel safer here, but now she knew there was no place that felt safe.

A peculiar beep rang out. She stopped abruptly, glancing from side to side.

“What the hell is that?” Overton asked after the second chirp.

“I don’t . . .” Sophie began to say. Then she saw it. Her radio had come back online. A signal zigzagged across the display. She switched off her night vision with a blink and dropped Jeff’s hand.

“Turn the volume down,” Overton whispered over the net.

With a quick swipe, Sophie lowered the sound. Nothing but white noise crackled out of the speakers. Whoever was trying to get a hold of them wasn’t getting their message through.

“The tunnel is probably interfering with the transmission,” she said.

“Another reason to keep moving,” Overton said. “Let’s go. If that’s Alex, he’s still alive and can wait until we’re done here.”

Taking one last look at the display, Sophie felt a sudden surge of hope.

Captain Noble walked into the cargo bay with mixed feelings. While he was happy to finally have the opportunity to fight, he was sad to leave his crew behind. He looked over the unit of NTC Special Forces soldiers gathering beneath him. They moved nimbly in their sleek black armor, their goggles emitting a fiery glow that illuminated the metal deck.

Their team lead, a man by the name of Sergeant Donald Harrington, sensed Noble’s presence and looked up at him. “Captain on deck,” he yelled. The other soldiers stood at attention and saluted Noble, who frowned and said, “At ease, at ease.”

Grabbing the ladder, Noble made his way down to the floor. In the corner of the room, he saw two workers mopping up grease. Like any well-oiled machine, Ghost of Atlantis had a job for everyone.

“Harrington, how long until we can get this thing airborne?”

“She’s ready to fly, sir.”

Noble marveled at the gunship. It was no ordinary helicopter, with titanium plates covering the outer shell and two inches of steel below that. The chopper easily fit thirty people in its cargo bay. It had stealth technology and an array of weapons including two side-mounted high-caliber pulse cannons and various rockets. The chopper could travel 350 miles per hour, making it one of the fastest gunships on the planet.

“Like a tank with rotors and a race car engine,” Noble muttered.

“Sir?” Harrington asked.

“Nothing.” The captain followed the soldiers as they walked single file up the ramp into the belly of the flying fortress. When it was his turn to enter, Noble slipped on his helmet and took a deep breath of the filtered air. It stunk of new plastic, just like the gas masks he’d been trained to use years before. He hated the smell. He flexed his arms inside his Kevlar armor, getting used to the feel of it. Glancing back at his ship one last time, he climbed into the chopper.

In the CIC, Lieutenant Commander Richards got the green light. “Irene, retrieve the radio mast and surface.”

“One moment, sir.”

A groan from the bowels of the ship echoed through the passages as the sail compartment above the deck exploded through the waves. Richards could picture it, like the fin of a shark hunting its prey. The Ghost of Atlantis had surfaced.

He gripped his seat while the sub settled. Once his control panel glowed a healthy green, he swiveled his chair and hovered over another dashboard. Glancing at the middle console, he checked to ensure all systems were operational. With a deep breath he opened the com line to the chopper. “Sea Serpent, this is GOA, all systems are clear. Over.”

“Roger that, GOA,” the pilot responded.

Richards looked back down at the button that activated the cargo bay door, his finger hovering over it. The only thing between the chopper and the Organics was a thick metal door, one he controlled. The entire mission made him uneasy, but orders were orders, and Captain Noble seemed confident. Without further hesitation, Richards punched the button.

He watched the doors crack open, revealing a brilliant sun overhead. They hadn’t seen the sun for days. No. Weeks.

With a sigh, Richards sat back in his chair and watched the monitor.

“Sir, we have a situation,” Trish, the senior communications officers said.

Richards stiffened. What now? he thought.

“A guard just found Alex Wagner,” she continued.

“What’s your point?” replied Richards, craning his head back to study her face.

“He’s dead, sir. Hung himself in his quarters.”

Richard swallowed hard and turned to face the younger officer. This was the last thing he wanted to tell Captain Noble before the Sea Serpent embarked on its most important mission.

“How many people know?”

“The guard, his commanding officer, and us,” replied Trish promptly, her eyes narrowing in on him.

“Good; keep it that way. I don’t want this affecting Captain Noble’s mission.”

Trish paused for a brief moment before gesturing with the slightest of nods. “Yes, sir.”

In the cargo bay, the rectangular roof compartment angled upward. Rays of bright sunlight washed over the compartment. The pilot held his hands to his visor to block the sun. “Tint,” he said. The windshield turned a glassy gray in the blink of an eye.

After performing his preflight checklist, he maneuvered the bulky gunship onto the helipad. Another groan vibrated through the craft as the platform rose toward the opening.

With the chopper in position, he checked the monitor to make sure the craft was clear on all sides. A green light flashed, and with a single swipe from his index finger, he initiated the chopper’s multiple rotors. The blades above turned silently, a product of the best stealth technology NTC had to offer.

“GOA, this is Sea Serpent, requesting permission for takeoff,” the pilot said calmly. He stared out over the open ocean, the magnificent view a reminder of what they were still fighting for.

“Permission granted. Get back to us in one piece. Over,” Lieutenant Commander Richards replied.

Captain Noble’s voice crackled over the com. “Don’t wait up for us, Richards.”

The pilot grinned and listened to a few of the Special Forces soldiers chuckle over the com before turning to stare out the recently cleaned windshield. Underneath both wings he could see the waves slurping against the GOA’s sides.

“Time to put on a show for the aliens,” the pilot said. His words drew more laughter as he clicked one last button before pulling them into the air.

He watched the sub sink back into the water, bubbles and white caps churning above the water. And just like that, it was gone.

“Good luck,” the pilot whispered as the helicopter raced toward the coast.

The remnants of orbs lined the tracks like popped balloons. Sophie squeezed Jeff’s hand as they came upon them.

“What do you see?” he asked.

Sophie smiled. He was a smart kid; a simple squeeze from her hand was enough to get his attention.

A few feet ahead Overton paused to check out the gory remains. “This didn’t show up on the bot’s video feed,” he said.

Bouma emerged from the shadows and bent down to look at what had once been some sort of animal. Sophie studied it too. It was hard to make out at first, but the claws and lumps of black fur were enough to tell her it was probably a raccoon.

Bouma stood and looked down the tunnel. “Maybe we took a wrong turn?”

“Negative. We’re right where we should be.”

“I don’t like this,” Bouma said, unshouldering his rifle.

Overton cocked his helmet to look at Sophie and Jeff. “Stay close.”

They moved as a pack, the sound of the rap of their footfalls clanking noisily over the metal. With every step, they drew closer to their destination—the human farms.

After another fifteen minutes of trekking through the tunnels Overton stopped abruptly. He balled his hand into a fist. Sophie tried to swallow, but her dry throat made it nearly impossible. Something was wrong. He was spooked.

Sophie felt Jeff tighten his grip on her armored hand. She leveled her pistol into the darkness, scanning the passage from side to side.

No contacts. Just the green outlines of modern infrastructure.

Silence consumed them. Another minute passed. Then two. Overton remained completely still, frozen like a statue.

A crackle of static broke over her headset, nearly making her fire off a random shot. She eased her finger off the trigger. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to their position.

“I lost the feed,” Overton finally said in a hushed voice.

“What?” Bouma whispered.

“The bot feed. It just cut out.”

“Can you rewind the video?” Bouma asked.

“Working on it.”

Sophie waited in silence. The tunnel was completely still, no sign of life, but somewhere out there she could sense the aliens.

Overton cursed. “Looks like the stupid bot ran smack into the middle of a nest of Spiders.”

“Shit. How far?” Bouma asked. His typically calm voice sounded strained.

“Not far. Maybe two turns. It’s hard to say for sure . . . God!” Overton crouched on the ground and hit his helmet with his right hand.

Sophie watched the man smack his head repeatedly. Was he losing it at last?

“Overton?” Bouma finally asked, approaching the man. “What are your orders?”

The marine stopped hitting his helmet but didn’t get up. He remained crouched, staring into the tunnel.

“Sir?” Bouma entreated.

At the end of the passage, right before it curved into another tunnel, a light emerged. Sophie’s heart stopped. With a blink, she clicked off her infrared and night vision so she could see it with her own eyes.

The aliens had found them.

The tunnel was bathed in blue light. The terrifying scratching sound came seconds later.

Jeff let go of her hand and moved behind her. “Sophie,” he whispered.

Bouma took another step closer to Overton, who watched the halo of blue light intensify. “Sir! What are your orders?!”

Overton slowly cocked his helmet up at the man. “I’ll hold them off.”

Sophie looked at the man in disbelief. He had zero electromagnetic grenades, only one pulse magazine, and a handful of regular grenades that she doubted would have any effect.

Yup. The man has officially lost his mind, Sophie thought. She grabbed Jeff and knelt down in front of him. “Listen to me very carefully. You hold on to my hand and don’t let go. You got it?”

Jeff nodded, his eyes reflecting the blue light of the approaching aliens.

Sophie spun quickly to see Bouma grab Overton’s shoulder.

“No way, Overton, that’s suicide,” Bouma shouted.

“Go!” Overton yelled, jumping to his feet and leveling his rifle in the light’s direction.

Bouma ran over to Sophie and Jeff. “You heard him. Move!”

His voice was deep and commanding, but Sophie hesitated. They couldn’t just leave Overton. He was wasting his life. His sacrifice would buy them seconds at best.

“Come on!” Bouma said, running back the way they had come.

Sophie finally moved—but not toward Bouma. “Watch him,” she said, pushing Jeff toward the marine.

She ran as hard as she could to catch up with Overton. By the time she got to him, he was crouching behind a trash bin, his weapon pointed at the approaching glimmering light. Sophie still couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. And she could feel them. The tunnel walls shook with the vibrations of the approaching horde.

But she wasn’t going to let her fear take hold of her. Not anymore—not when it mattered most. She tapped on Overton’s visor with her .45.

“What the hell! I told you to get out of here!”

Another vibration shook the passage, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

“Please, we need you,” Sophie said.

Overton pushed himself off the ground and stood shoulder to shoulder with her while he watched the light intensify. A second tremor shook the ceiling and Overton cocked his helmet to look at Sophie. “You really are a pain in my ass, you know that?” Shouldering his weapon he said, “How fast can you run?”

Then he exploded into a sprint.

Sophie wasn’t prepared for the rhetorical question, but she didn’t hesitate. It only took her two heartbeats to catch up with him. When she passed him, she stole a glance over her shoulder. The entire tunnel was lit up like one massive LED.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The first Spiders came crashing around the corner, tumbling into a somersault with limbs flailing. The next batch slowed by sliding their claws across the concrete. A trail of sparks funneled behind them. The first three Spiders lost their balance and tumbled over one another. They were quickly crushed by the advancing pack, their blue blood painting the tunnel wall.

As Sophie and Overton finally made their way around the first turn, the Spiders’ shrieks slashed through the passage. Only this time it was louder, it was more concentrated, and it wasn’t coming from the Spiders. It was coming from one of the Steam Beasts.

CHAPTER 28

THE sweat was flowing freely off Kiel’s face. Every time he wiped it away, it would drench his gloves, which made it more difficult to get a proper grip on the rocks. He was resting now in the crevice of the mountain, watching the blue drone zip back and forth across the skyline. It was hunting. He could only hope it wasn’t looking for the others. They would surely be deep within the city now. And that meant he was running out of time.

He took one last swig of water and tossed the empty bottle over the edge. Looking up, he could see he was almost to the spot Alexia had plotted on his tablet. At least he thought he was. Without the device, it was really tough to tell. The mountain was starting to blend together, and he wasn’t sure which route up was the best.

With the trail ending, he was now at the technical part of the climb. The mountain curved up into a smooth vertical wall at least fifteen feet high. Fortunately there wasn’t much wind, just a breeze coming from the southwest. With a deep breath, he rubbed his hands together and brushed another bead of sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve.

Grabbing the weapon’s makeshift straps, he threw it around his shoulders. The rectangular box dug into his shoulder blades, which were already raw from carrying it this far. If he made it back, he was going to ask someone for a massage . . .

If.

He swept his gaze across the vertical mountainside, trying to visually map out a route. There was no way around it; he would have to go straight up. He could identify several areas for his hands and feet, but there was at least a five-foot span where the rock was completely smooth.

He looked back over the valley below and studied the distant city. Heat waves shimmered over the dead landscape, making the skyscrapers look like metal weeds swaying in a breeze. Most of his squad had died out there, and his brother and sister, too. He’d been so caught up in trying to survive, he had hardly thought of anyone else. And now he had a chance to avenge them.

This was his chance to make things right.

He slid out of his boots and tossed them aside. There was no way they’d get any traction on the smooth surface. He was better off barefoot. Bending down, he grabbed some powder he’d made from crushed chalk he’d found in the CIC. He sprinkled it over his feet, hoping it would keep most of the sweat off.

With his fingers and toes powdered, he retrieved a pickaxe, a knife, and the short tactical rope they had pulled from the Humvee. He pulled the rope as hard as he could, testing its strength. The cord needed to hold at least 220 pounds—the combined weight of him and the RVAMP.

He scanned the route one more time. Protruding from the cliff top was a decent-sized tree. He squinted, trying to determine how thick it was, but with the constant stream of sweat, his eyes were becoming too irritated to concentrate. If he could manage to get the rope around one of the branches, or the tree itself, then he had a backup plan if he lost his footing.

Grabbing the rope he tied a belay loop around him. Without a device to slip the knot through, the best he could do was to tie it around his hip. Then he tied another loop at the other end of the rope and began lassoing it through the air. The first toss went wide and missed the tree completely. So did the second. On his third try, the loop slipped perfectly over one of the thicker branches, sliding all the way down to the trunk. He pulled the rope tight. Hundreds of dead pine needles rained down from the bare branches, but the loop held. It felt sturdy enough.

Knowing he couldn’t waste any more time, he grabbed the pick in one hand and the knife in the other. He approached the cliff face confidently. He’d climbed much more technical passes before. But then again, the last time he’d done any rock climbing at all was on a leave trip five years before the invasion. Not to mention he now had a metal weapon digging into his back.

As he looked up, a gust of wind hit his body, throwing him slightly off balance.

“No, not now. Please not now,” he whispered. He hadn’t started climbing yet, but if the wind started up, he knew the journey would be nearly impossible.

He waited for another gust of wind, but none came. Letting out a deep breath, he closed his eyes and hammered the pick into the rock a few feet above him. He slipped his bare foot into a small crevice and stuck the blade of his knife in a crack a foot above his head.

He pulled himself up, his feet scrambling to get traction. The first three feet were cake. But he still had twelve more to go.

Don’t look down.

He didn’t. He pulled the knife free and dug it into another small crevice. Then he did the same with his axe and slowly pulled himself up. The weight of the device on his back sent a sharp spike of pain rushing through his upper body. His muscles strained, stretched, and burned. He could feel his back muscles clenching as he climbed. The pain was becoming unbearable.

Adrenaline filled his veins as he hammered the pick into the mountain a few feet higher. He had never free-climbed before, not like this. Not without any modern climbing equipment to prevent injuries in a possible fall. But after so many near-death experiences over the past month, he wasn’t scared anymore. He knew his life expectancy had been severely reduced the day the Organics invaded, and he had accepted his fate.

He wouldn’t give up until he had completed the mission.

The loud blast of an alien drone, followed by another wind gust, battered him. He instantly lost his footing and hung from his knife and axe with his feet kicking frantically at the wall below him. Numbness surged through his entire body as he hung there.

Snap!

The handle of his knife broke off, leaving the blade inside the rock. He swung to the right, the grip on the pickaxe now the only thing preventing him from tumbling to the rocky ground far below.

Grunting, Kiel ran his bare toes over the surface of the rock. He had to find a foothold or the pickaxe handle would break. His fate would be the same as his tablet’s.

“Shit,” he mumbled, digging his toes into the surface of the mountain. A toenail snapped under a jagged piece of rock and he wailed in pain.

Wincing, Kiel worked to steady his breathing. He knew he needed to focus. To concentrate. The only way off this mountain was up.

Clearing his mind, he sucked in a deep breath and ran his toes against the rock again. He wedged them into a gap and let some of the pressure off the axe’s handle. The weight of the RVAMP strained his shoulders, and he imagined one of the straps ripping.

His chest felt tight at the thought. With his right foot secure he looked for a place for his left hand. He ran his fingers over the smooth rock and found another small crevice. Jamming three of his fingers inside, he braced himself just in time as another gust of wind tore into his side.

Kiel cursed. If history books were still being written, this scene would have belonged in them for sure.

After the wind had passed, he angled himself carefully, pressing his face against the smooth rock wall. He squinted, closing one eye so he could find the next hole for his pick. There, a few feet up. With a quick blow, the tip slid into a small crack in the rock. He removed the pick, slipped his left fingers inside the hole, and then hammered the pick into the rock a few feet farther up. Once he was certain he had a tight grip, he pulled himself up.

The relief of not plunging to his death was quickly overshadowed by the sound of the drone behind him. He craned his neck to see the small blue dot changing course. It looked like it was moving toward the mountain.

With sweat dripping down his face, it was hard to tell. He was wasting time. His fate was in his own hands.

Glancing up, he saw he was closing in on the ledge above. Six more feet to go. No more than a minute if he hightailed it. Too bad he had seconds at best. If he wanted to get to the top, he was going to have to do it much faster.

Kiel closed his eyes, said a prayer, and began to climb.

Captain Noble watched the undulation of whitecaps far below. The cool blue water extended as far as he could see, so it was difficult to determine where the ocean ended and the cloudless sky began. He had always loved the sea. He’d grown up outside San Diego and had spent his weekends with his feet in the sand, watching the waves roll onto shore. The oceans were a gift that was he was prepared to defend with every weapon he had at his disposal.

A sharp turn from the chopper sent him jolting forward. When he looked up, he saw something new.

Land.

They were nearing the coast. It would only be a few more hours before they reached Colorado Springs. He cocked his head to see the other soldiers staring contently ahead. He’d hardly had the chance to meet any of them. But under those helmets he knew there were young faces, some no older than eighteen or nineteen. They were just kids—kids he was leading into battle against a seemingly endless and terrifying army of alien life-forms.

Was he prepared to do that? To watch young men and women die under his command?

Noble turned away from them to stare out the glass window. The sandy beaches below were littered with capsized boats, their cargos strewn across the sand like spilled groceries. The helicopter began to descend over the beach. The lower the bird, the harder the target. In the open sky, you leave yourself exposed. That’s what his father had always told him.

Below them, the beach transitioned into mainland. Noble had seen plenty of it through the periscope, but seeing it this close was shocking. Like a battlefield, the ground was peppered with craters, more than likely the remains of dried-up lakes and ponds. The roadway was clogged with abandoned vehicles, and the once-lush forests were graveyards of dead trees. The temperature gauge reading from outside said it was 103 degrees. The world was beginning to look more like a dead, alien planet than Earth.

“Captain Noble, I have contacts coming up at twelve o’clock,” the pilot said over the com.

Noble flinched at the statement. “What kind of contacts?” He suddenly felt stupid, knowing damned well that whatever was ahead of them wasn’t friendly.

“Not human, sir. I’ll connect the video feed.”

Noble peered up at the screen and waited anxiously to get his first glimpse of the aliens up close. From his peripheral vision, he could see helmets all around him turning to watch the screen.

The pilot’s calm voice crackled over the com. “Sir, video feed going live in . . .”

An image of a shopping mall emerged on the display. They were coming up on it fast, and in the middle of the gray concrete parking lot was a pack—no, an army of Spiders.

“Holy shit, there have to be hundreds of them,” the pilot said.

Noble felt the helicopter tug hard to the left, and the image of the mall disappeared.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Captain Noble shouted.

“Working on it, sir.”

The chopper pulled farther to the left and raced toward a cluster of hills. Noble twisted his neck to see if he could see the shopping mall, but it had vanished behind them.

“Any drones?”

“Negative, sir. Looks like we’re clear for now.”

Noble looked over at Harrington. His fiery orange goggles remained glued to the screen, like a robot waiting for orders. With a sigh, the captain rested his helmet back on his seat and closed his eyes. Just a few more hours to go.

The deafening roar from the Steam Beast trailing them echoed through the passage like a train’s horn. Sophie didn’t have time to wonder how it had gotten down into the tunnels. She could hear the creature bucking the helpless Spiders out of its way and the sickening crunch each one made when it hit the walls.

She flinched at every sound, but continued to run.

“We need to get out of here!” Bouma said over the com.

“Find us an exit, quick!” Overton replied.

Sophie risked a glance over her shoulder. What she saw sent a chill down her spine. Behind Overton the Steam Beast was barreling down the tunnel, its hooves smashing the concrete. The creature galloped forward, swinging its beak from side to side and crushing any Spider that risked a pass.

“Ahead!” Bouma shouted. “The train!”

Sophie turned to see the metal outline of a subway train around the next corner. Bouma was already climbing onto the back end, trying to force the door open.

The crunch of concrete and metal echoed through the corridor, mixing with the screeches of the furious Spiders. Sophie knew they were getting closer. In seconds the horde would be on top of them.

Ahead, Bouma finally managed to swing the back door open. He reached down and pulled Jeff inside and then turned back for Sophie.

“Overton! You need to move!” Bouma shouted.

The crack of gunfire erupted. Sophie flinched at every shot. Was Overton really trying to take on the horde?

Inside the train she turned to see the sergeant a hundred yards away, firing short, controlled bursts at the Steam Beast. The alien swayed from side to side, its beak-shaped nose launching another Spider into the air. It was then she saw the orbs lining the exposed belly of the beast.

“My God,” she choked. She imagined the poor souls that were dissolving inside. Her stomach churning, Sophie backed away from the door and guided Jeff down the aisle. “Let’s go.”

More gunfire broke out as they moved. When Sophie was halfway down the first car she turned to watch. Bouma fired off his pulse rifle from the door. “Come on!” he yelled.

The blue glow was so intense now, like a sea of electric light was racing toward them. She squinted and watched Overton climb into the train with Bouma’s assistance. Grabbing Jeff close, Sophie shielded him as the Steam Beast smashed into the car.

The impact sent both marines sailing through the air. They landed with thuds on the metal floor a few feet away from Sophie. Neither of the men bothered standing, instead opening fire from their prone positions.

The combination of gunfire and the enraged Steam Beast’s shrieks was deafening. Sophie cupped Jeff’s ears. He squirmed in her grip, trying to peek through her arms.

Overton fumbled for his final magazine. “Changing!” he yelled.

Bouma jumped to a single knee and squeezed off a volley of covering fire.

The Steam Beast let out a voracious scream and smashed the side of its head into the back of the train. Glass rained down on Sophie as the creature continued its attack, trying desperately to squeeze its head inside the car.

Within seconds it had used its beak to rip off the back door and was working on wiggling its head inside the twisted metal.

“Move!” Overton yelled. He twisted his helmet and Sophie locked eyes with him through their visors. For the first time since the invasion, she saw true terror in the marine’s eyes.

Grabbing Jeff’s hand, she pulled him away from the slobbering beast as it pried the metal back. She paused to watch the Spiders as they climbed onto the car. Their claws dug into the roof above them, enough to send Jeff scrambling.

The boy tugged on Sophie’s hand and started pulling her away. “Got to go!” he yelled.

Sophie ran as she looked behind her at Overton and Bouma firing off their final rounds. She focused on an object that Bouma had pulled from his pack.

When Jeff and Sophie reached the door to the next car, she focused on the object. It was a grenade, but not an electromagnetic grenade. This looked like one of the old-fashioned ones that she’d seen on Overton’s belt earlier. But those wouldn’t work, would they?

Bouma’s voice bled over the channel.“Overton!”

He glanced over at the other marine and focused on the black baseball-sized object. With a nod, Overton pushed himself to his feet and grabbed Bouma under the arm.

“Got to move, got to move!” Overton said. Twisting in Sophie’s direction he pointed over her shoulder and yelled, “Get into the next car.”

Paralyzed with fear, Sophie let Jeff pull her through the open door. The marines caught up a second later. Sophie’s gaze instantly narrowed in on Bouma’s empty hands. She hardly had enough time to comprehend what had happened when the blast from the grenade tore through the other end of the car.

Without thinking she dove and tackled Jeff onto the ground, shielding him from the shrapnel and scorching heat of the grenade. Bouma and Overton hit the deck next to her, and then immediately bounced back to their feet.

Bouma reached down and grabbed her under the arms, pulling her away from the fire and smoke flickering out of the ruined cabin behind them. Overton latched onto Jeff and swept the boy into his arms.

Sophie felt a wave of relief when she saw the full extent of the destruction they were leaving behind. There was no sign of the Steam Beast or the Spiders now, only the twisted metal left by the grenade that protruded from the train like the teeth from a hungry animal.

The ringing from the blast still echoed in her helmet, as Bouma dragged her across the floor.

When they got to the third car, the marine helped her to her feet and smacked the side of her helmet.

“Sophie, are you with me?” Bouma asked, tapping his finger on her visor.

She nodded and blinked away the stars. Risking one more glance over her shoulder, she followed Jeff and the marines into the darkness.

The vibrations had ceased, and the Organics’ shrieks had vanished. The grenade had cut the aliens off, bringing down half the tunnel on the horde. But that didn’t mean they were in the clear yet. And Sophie knew it was mostly her fault. After all, she had ordered the team underground when Overton had argued it would be safer to move through the city. In the end he was right. The tunnels were narrow coffins with limited escape routes. They weren’t even safe from the Steam Beasts.

Sergeant Overton paused a few feet ahead and stared into the darkness. “We’re pretty far off course. My HUD shows we backtracked a mile. Take five. I’ll try to find an alternate route.”

Letting go of Jeff’s hand, Sophie slid off her helmet and grabbed her water bottle. With two large gulps, she drank half the bottle. She felt a tug on her armored wrist and looked down to see the boy staring up at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, offering him a drink.

“I think I found a route. But not through the tunnels. We need to hit the blacktop,” Overton said, pointing upward.

Sophie knew Overton expected opposition, especially since she had ordered them to use the tunnels. But he was right this time; if they were off course and a horde of Spiders was hunting them, then heading above ground might be their only option. She was not too proud to admit that she had been wrong.

Sophie glanced at her mission clock, and then reattached the bottle to her belt and grabbed Jeff’s hand. “Lead the way.”

Overton nodded and led them down another series of passages until they got to a platform. A fading sign hung off the side of the concrete wall.

E19

Overton shot a hand signal, and Bouma climbed onto the platform. He reached down for Sophie’s hand first and hoisted her onto the ledge. Then he reached back down for Jeff. Once they were up, Overton checked both tunnels for contacts before pulling himself onto the concrete stage.

They advanced up the stairs cautiously, Bouma taking point. Halfway up, they saw the first hints of the afternoon sun bleeding through the station windows.

With a blink, Sophie clicked off her night vision. As her eyes began to adjust to the natural light, she saw the floor was littered with trash and abandoned bags. Her eyes fell on a single article of clothing, a hat with the New York Yankees logo.

Sophie smiled. Her father had worn one every time he mowed their yard when she was a girl. Reaching down, she swiped the hat off the ground to find it was covered in some sort of goo.

“What’s that smell?” Jeff asked. He moved away from Sophie toward the piles of trash.

Strands of Organic gore webbed off the hat as she flipped it over. “Ugh!” she cried, tossing it toward one of the trash heaps. As she watched the hat slide across the floor she realized the mounds weren’t trash at all. They were the remains of orbs.

Dozens of them.

Overton saw them at the same time.

Everyone froze but Sophie. She stepped over to one of the popped spheres. It looked like a deflated balloon. They had been here a while. And without a helmet, Jeff was probably smelling the rot.

“We need to keep moving,” Overton said.

Sophie looked back at Jeff, who was covering his nose with his sleeve. There was something about him that looked different. His matted hair was longer and his chin a bit more pronounced. He looked much older than he had just a few weeks ago.

“Come on,” Sophie said, motioning Jeff forward. Before she followed the marines out of the building she checked the stairs. Through the darkness she thought she saw the hint of blue light.

Was it just her imagination, or had the horde found them again?

She didn’t wait to find out. She turned and took off running to catch up with the others.

They had been on the move for an hour, ducking in and out of empty buildings, stopping to take in nutrition and to check their route. Debris from miniature dust tornadoes impeded their vision as they made their way closer to the lakebed. The farther they got from the protection of the buildings, the worse it was, with hot swirls of dust pounding their armor.

Jeff was suffering the worst. He walked hunched over with one hand protecting his eyes and the other on Sophie’s back. Sweat drenched his shirt, and his thick mop of hair clung to his forehead like strands of seaweed.

By the time they reached the first residential street, Sophie had trouble catching her breath. The dying trees meant less oxygen production and higher levels of carbon dioxide. Not only was the planet warming, the air was getting thinner.

What had once been a beautiful neighborhood now looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Dead tree branches extended over the yards; their limbs broken and cracked, moving in the wind like a skeleton reaching out to her.

The bright reds, blues, and greens of contemporary architecture were nothing but a distant memory; the paint had faded with every blast from the scorching wind. Cracked and shattered windows filled the frames of what were once magnificent views of the Rocky Mountains. Everywhere she looked the sight was the same. The landscape was transformed.

“Sophie, get up here,” Overton said.

Grabbing Jeff’s sunburned hand, she started pulling him through the powerful gusts of wind. “Almost there,” she said.

Fifteen minutes later, they were on the edge of the last neighborhood before the lakebed. Overton crouched behind a wrecked Jeep, where the twisted metal curved to form a protective nest with a 360-degree view. Torn canvas clung to the Jeep’s metal columns like skin, flapping in the wind.

Sophie ducked behind the bumper of a pickup truck. A trail of fuel leaked from the bottom of the vehicle like blood. She couldn’t help but consider that soon she might be lying in a puddle of her own blood.

She shook the negative thoughts away and handed off her water bottle to Jeff, who took a long swig.

“Thanks, Doctor Sophie,” he whispered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Sophie smiled. No matter what happened, she would stay with Jeff until the end. She took a quick drink and peeked around the corner of the bumper to see Bouma disappear into one of the houses. He was moving into position.

Sophie’s heart rate jumped exponentially, kicking inside her rib cage. This was it. They were close now. All they had to do was wait for Kiel to complete his mission.

“All clear,” Bouma said.

“Report?” Overton asked.

A pause broke over the com, the familiar sound of static entering Sophie’s ears. She knew what the lapse meant. Bouma had seen something he couldn’t or didn’t want to describe.

“Nothing good, sir. The lakebed is full of Spiders. Hundreds of them. I see at least a dozen Sentinels on the south embankment. Several Worms are curled up on the north side. And there is one of those . . . wait, no, there are two of the Steam Beasts. One of them appears to be fighting with a pack of Spiders.”

“Fighting with one another? They must be damn hungry,” Overton said. “At least they’ll be distracted when we bring the pain.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. Bring the pain? The only pain they were going to bring was their own when they walked into the Spiders’ nest. With little ammo, and no protection from the RVAMP, it was only a matter of time before a drone or something worse discovered them.

“What about survivors?” Overton asked.

“None in plain sight, sir. The poles are still lined with them, but it’s hard to tell if any of them are alive.”

“Sit tight. Kiel should be pushing that button any minute now.”

“Oh my God,” Bouma whispered a moment later.

“What?”

“A Sentinel just looked my way. I think it spotted me . . . fuck . . .”

The sound of rumbling filled the com. Sophie could visualize Bouma scrambling across the room, crawling on all fours to get away from the window. Labored breathing mixed with the static.

“Sir, they’re coming.”

“Get a hold of yourself, Bouma. How many are coming?”

“All of them.”

CHAPTER 29

KIEL hoisted himself onto the ledge, and with one final kick, he scooted across the sharp, rocky surface.

“Yes!” he yelled. Flipping on his back, he went to unfasten the rope around his waist and the harnesses of the RVAMP. The sense of triumph washed away when he saw another ledge above him. It had been hidden from view earlier, and what had appeared to be the top of the mountain was an illusion.

Grunting, he fumbled to loosen the device, knowing the drone would be on him any second. The right clasp clicked, unlocked, and he quickly tugged on the left clasp. “Come on. Come on!” he grumbled.

A boom from the drone diverted his attention back to the skyline.

It was heading toward the city.

“What the hell?”

The left strap finally clicked, unlocked, and he shed the weapon on the ground. Scrambling to his knees, he pushed himself to his feet and watched the drone descend over the suburbs.

Sweat cascaded off his forehead and he swept it away with his sleeve. Above him the next cliff jutted out at an angle, blocking his view of how much higher the mountain was. He knew there was no way he would be able to scale it, not with the weight of the weapon on his back. His arms were already on fire. Besides, there were no trees or rocks to fasten the rope around. He had climbed as far as possible. This was it.

Kiel knelt next to the metal RVAMP. “Shit, shit, shit,” he repeated as he scanned the side of the device for the control board. He had spent so much time focusing on the journey that he had mostly ignored Emanuel’s directions before they left. Now he couldn’t remember how to operate the damned thing.

Removing the side panel, he frantically scanned the device. Underneath the latch he found several buttons and a bar that he remembered the biologist describing as the power meter. It was solid green. Fully charged.

Kiel wiped his forehead and swept his gaze over the city. The buildings were so small in the distance, like a diorama an architect would build for a presentation. Somewhere out there, Overton and the others were waiting—waiting for him. With a drone and an army of aliens heading right for them.

They were sitting ducks, and he held the key to their survival in his hands.

I won’t let you down, sir.

He remembered the promise, and with a deep breath he looked back down at the device. Two buttons. One red, one green. Neither of them labeled.

“It has to be the green one. It has to be. Doesn’t it?”

He reached for the button, his finger hovering over it. Closing his eyes, he pushed. When he opened them, nothing had changed. The drone was just a dot in the distance but it was still moving, still heading for his team.

“Shit!” he yelled as loud as he could. The word drifted away in the wind. Looking back down at the weapon, he saw the power meter was still green.

“Please work,” he whispered. He pushed the button again. If it weren’t for the whine from the slowly fading power meter, he wouldn’t have known it was working. Slowly, the power meter drained to a single red bar.

Kiel scrambled to his feet and looked for the drone. He crawled closer to the edge, sticking his head over the cliff. It was gone.

“Yeah!” he yelled, flashing his middle fingers over the cliff. “Ha-ha! Looks like I got you, bastards,” he laughed. He thought of his family, his friends, and his squad. His laugh grew louder, and tears formed in his eyes.

He was laughing so loud that at first he didn’t hear the cracking sound beneath him.

And then the ledge gave way, and he was falling.

Sophie watched the horde of Spiders speeding around the corner. A few yards in front of her Overton took a deep breath and leveled his rifle at the pack. There were so many of them. An impossible number, tumbling over one another and crashing into cars, poles, and mailboxes. Their shrieks filled the afternoon with the sound of impending death.

Ducking behind the bumper, Sophie closed her eyes and hugged Jeff. The scraping and scratching of hundreds of claws, mixed with the aliens’ screams, was enough to paralyze her.

She pulled Jeff closer and put her index finger on the trigger of the .45, raising it slowly. A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. At first, they were nothing more than a concoction of memories—times she had spent with Emanuel and Holly, times she had lost herself in her work inside her laboratory—but then she had a different thought. A dream.

Mars. She had been so close, just months away from setting foot on the Red Planet, but it had all been a lie. Anger flooded her mind as she thought of Dr. Hoffman. His deceit. His obsidian eyes.

Everything was about to end and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Except . . .

She looked at the .45 and considered.

No. She couldn’t. Could she?

The alternative was being torn to shreds by the aliens. Wouldn’t it be better to end it quickly? With two squeezes she could make sure they both felt only a second of pain.

“Don’t look,” she said, pulling Jeff away from the edge of the bumper. “Don’t look,” she repeated. Sophie closed her eyes again. She was no longer the strong, fearless scientist she had been when she entered the Biosphere. She was no longer the leader everyone needed her to be. She made countless mistakes, mistakes that had cost them lives. Saafi, Timothy, Eric Finley. The list went on and on. There were so many things she would change if she could go back and do it over again. She probably would never have made the decision to leave the Biosphere in the first place. Saafi would still be alive.

Sophie shook her helmet. Her mind was a mess, second-guessing every decision she’d made since the invasion. As she looked at Overton, she realized that they weren’t much different. He had done what he thought would keep his men alive and she had done what she thought would keep her team alive. In the end, they had both reached their breaking points. In the end, they were both losing their grip on reality.

Gripping the .45’s handle tighter, Sophie slowly pulled Jeff against her armored chest. The sounds of the scraping got louder, the shrieks more intense.

The end was near. She thought she had been prepared, but as the sounds of her death scratched closer, she was having a hard time believing it was over.

She raised the pistol to Jeff’s head. Tears raced down her cheeks. As she waited and contemplated her fate, a voice broke out over the com.

“Come on! You want some of this? How about this?” Overton yelled, shooting a volley of rounds at the horde.

Sophie gritted her teeth. She could picture the Spiders swarming like ants and consuming him. The chirp from a second rifle sounded a few seconds later. She gripped the trigger of her gun a bit tighter and hovered the barrel over Jeff’s skull. His face remained planted against her chest armor.

“Don’t let them take me again, Doctor Sophie,” he said.

“I won’t, honey. Just close your eyes. Everything’s going to be okay,” she lied. More tears fell, covering her dry skin with a trail of salt.

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, something exploded. The aliens were shrieking, but not like before. They sounded like they were in pain, like they were . . .

Dying.

She poked her head around the bumper and watched as the Organics fell. Their bodies convulsed on the cement less than a yard from the truck where Sophie hid, their claws tearing helplessly at the air. Like fish struggling on land, the horde flopped and convulsed in the street. Their bodies were everywhere—in front yards, falling off roofs, shaking on the hoods of vehicles.

Sophie couldn’t believe her eyes. The device had worked. It had really worked. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Kiel did it!”

Jeff peered around the corner of the truck and jumped to his feet. “Yeah!” he screamed.

Bouma paused on the stoop of the house. Slowly, he lowered his weapon. Sophie couldn’t see his face through his visor, but she knew he, too, was in shock.

Minutes passed and the last Spider finally twitched and died. Silence washed over the street. The glow from the aliens faded as their bodies began to shrivel, their shields no longer protecting them.

Sophie looked for Overton, but the Jeep he had taken cover in was full of Spiders. “Sergeant?” she whispered.

“Overton, come in,” Bouma said.

There was no response. Just static.

Sophie made a dash for the Jeep. She slowed when she reached the pile of dead Spiders. “Sergeant?” she repeated.

More static.

Then the slightest movement. The pile of bodies began to shift. Sophie backed up. Had one of them survived?

An armored hand burst through the mass, and Overton’s helmet emerged. “Holy shit,” he said. “Get these fuckers off me.”

Bouma rushed over to help him out from under the mountain of dead aliens. Overton’s armor was covered in fresh blue blood, and gore peppered his sleek black suit. He wiped his visor with his fist, smearing the blood across the glass.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked, as if nothing had happened. “We have some people to save.”

Sophie grinned for the first time that day. Shoving her pistol back in her belt, she followed the marines through the alien graveyard.

ENTRY 3456

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA

This will be my last entry for a while. I do not have much left to say. Dr. Winston and her team have been gone for twelve hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-three seconds. The logical side of my programming leads me to one conclusion—they will not be coming back.

Over the past few days I’ve been spending more time isolated: running statistics, monitoring the Biosphere, studying the Organics, and devouring philosophy. In a way, I suppose I’m preparing for the end of the human race.

Something inside me has changed. In Entry 3410, I contemplated the overwhelming desire of Dr. Winston and her team to survive. Today I am consumed with a new thought. The word has been scrolling across my screen for hours.

Loneliness.

There is no denying I have become attached to Dr. Winston and the others. I’ve done everything in my power to keep the team safe. But there is nothing more I can do.

If the statistics are right, then humanity will soon end. I will be left alone. The last memory of their species will be contained in my hard drive until my power source drains and I, too, die.

CHAPTER 30

“APPROACHING Colorado airspace,” the pilot said over the com.

Captain Noble felt a thrill pass through him the moment he saw the Colorado wastelands. The sand dunes protruded from the dead earth like sores on a diseased body. He’d seen them before, but never from the sky. The destruction from the solar storms of 2055 was a sobering sight. The reach of the coronal mass ejection had been far and deep, engraving a scar into the earth that would take thousands of years to erase.

He went to stroke his beard, but his fingers scraped across his helmet’s breathing apparatus instead. He had become so fully immersed in the view that he’d forgotten everything else around him. The near-silent hum of the helicopter’s blades vibrated through the cabin. Noble pulled his gaze away from the window and checked the monitor. In the upper right corner, the radar showed a green line, circling clockwise. The screen was clear of contacts; there was nothing but the expansive ocean of sand and cracked earth between them and Colorado Springs.

Noble rested his helmeted head against the seat and tried to appear calm and relaxed. The last thing he wanted was to display any sign of weakness to the soldiers, especially Sergeant Harrington. Noble didn’t know the man all that well. As captain, he focused on giving everyone under his command a very long leash. If they went astray and got tangled, then he would deal with them accordingly, but otherwise he trusted them to do their work. Harrington had never given him a reason to get involved with the business of the Special Forces team.

A chirp from the screen pulled him back to the monitor. As the line circled the radar, it passed over a slowly growing green mass.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

The object grew with every pass, and Noble’s blood pressure rose with it.

“Captain Noble, we have a situation.”

“Dust storm?” Noble asked, his fingers reaching for his armrest again. They wrapped themselves tightly around the metal.

“Roger that, sir. And from the looks of it, a big one.”

Noble closed his eyes. “Take evasive measures ASAP.”

“Sir . . . there’s no going around it.”

Ping.

The captain’s eyes shot back up to the screen. Another object? Could there really be another storm? He waited for the line to circle again. This time it picked up a smaller object, no larger than the size of a grape. This was something else.

“Sir, we have an unidentified craft on our tail.”

Noble gripped the armrests tighter.

“What are you orders, sir?” the pilot asked.

In his peripheral vision, the captain could see some of the soldiers fidgeting in their chairs. With every ping, another one of them moved.

“We have to go through it, sir,” a voice said to his right.

Noble turned to see his reflection in Harrington’s armored visor. The man had finally broken his stoic trance.

“She was built to withstand a direct hit from a grenade. She can take whatever the wastelands have to throw at her.” The man’s voice was hoarse but calm. There was courage in his words. That was the mark of a true leader. Noble drew strength from Harrington’s demeanor.

“Sir, your orders,” the pilot repeated.

Ping . . . ping . . .

Sophie, Jeff, and the marines walked past the mounds of alien bodies in silence. Just minutes ago, Sophie was about to put a hole in Jeff’s head and her own. And now?

A miracle.

No, she thought. Science.

Past the last house, they had a panoramic view of the lakebed. Even under the white sun, the glow from dozens of orbs was obvious. Looming over them in the distance was the field of poles.

They had found two vans with hydrogen cells a few blocks back, and Bouma had been able to fire them up. The last stage of their plan was now in motion.

“I’m guessing those are what’s left of anyone who tried to run,” Bouma said, pointing at the orbs.

“The poor bastards really never had a chance,” Overton replied gravely.

The sound of Jeff’s footsteps stopped, and Sophie turned to see the boy wiping sweat off his forehead. “It’s so hot,” he said in a low voice.

Sophie glanced over him. His face was pale and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Strands of hair stuck to his wet forehead. She looked down at her water bottle—only a quarter left. Her own throat ached with dryness, her lips cracked and bleeding.

She pulled the bottle off her belt and handed it to him. “Drink the rest. It’s okay.”

He hesitated only a moment before grabbing it and gulping down what remained. He held the bottle above his head, trying to force out any last drops. “Thank you,” he said, handing it back to her.

“Keep moving,” Bouma said.

The marines fanned out as they worked their way down to the beach. Sophie and Jeff followed. While every alien within fifteen square miles was dead, Sophie knew there was something else waiting for them: the human farm.

Why hadn’t the pulse from the RVAMP knocked out the poles? Sophie considered the problem. They had to be on some other sort of power source, which meant the team was going to have to find it in order to get the prisoners down.

It took only fifteen minutes to cross the lakebed. She tried to ignore the orbs, forcing herself not to look at them. There was no helping those people now. But as the marines made their way closer to the poles, Jeff stopped beside one of the glowing balls of light. He hunched over to look inside, holding his hands over his eyes like a shopper peering into a store window.

“This one’s moving!” he shouted.

Overton balled his hand into a fist and raised a finger to his helmet as if to hush the boy. But Sophie jogged over to him.

“Come on, Jeff,” she said, trying to usher him away.

“Wait a second. I want to see this.”

Sophie noticed a black shadow moving inside the orb. The figure was small, much smaller than a child. Her heart sank as she realized it was an infant.

“Oh my God.” Her worst fear had finally been confirmed. She knew there would be infants out there, left behind when their parents had been captured, but seeing one liquefying in front of her made her gag.

She doubled over, trying to prevent the bile inside her throat from plastering the inside of her helmet. Deep breaths, Sophie, deep breaths. She sucked in the filtered air and felt the blood seep back into her head before standing back up.

She forced herself away from the orb, grabbed Jeff, and yelled, “We’re leaving!” Sophie yanked him across the cracked earth toward the shoreline. He turned several times to look back at the orb but didn’t put up any further resistance.

Climbing the hill that led to the farm was more difficult than the trek across the lakebed. The dirt was littered with dead Spiders, their bodies stacked on top of one another.

Every step took them closer to the poles. Overton was the first to reach them. He ran down the nearest row, presumably looking for his soldiers. He kept going, stopping at each pole and tilting his helmet toward the sky to examine every individual. Bouma stood guard over the lakebed with his rifle at the ready.

Overton finally spoke into his com. “Unconscious . . . all of them. Maybe dead.” He panted over the channel, “Come on! They have to be alive!”

Sophie watched Overton reach out toward a man at the bottom of the pole closest to him. Even from her location she could see he was elderly, small, and emaciated.

“Get over here, Doc,” Overton said.

Sophie turned to Jeff. “Stay with Corporal Bouma.” Her armor creaked as she ran, or maybe it was her bones. She was tired, her body mentally and physically exhausted. And the injury she had sustained weeks earlier on her side was flaring up. Every step sent a jolt of pain down her right leg.

She didn’t have time for the pain. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Overton, she slowly pushed the old man’s chin up with her armored fingers so she could examine him. His face was completely sunken in, and his skin was jaundiced—both signs of dehydration. Her gaze shifted from his face to his torn red T-shirt. His chest moved up and down ever so slightly, the outline of his ribs showing with each breath.

Somehow he was still alive.

With the most delicate touch, she let go of his chin, guiding it back to rest against the hollow of his sunken throat. “How is this man alive?” she whispered into her com.

Overton shrugged and moved to the next pole, grabbing the person’s hair to check their face before moving on to the next. “They’re all in some sort of trance.”

Sophie nodded. “They’re unconscious, dehydrated, and on the verge of death. None of these people are in any shape to move.”

“This is bullshit,” growled Overton. He ran to the next pole, and then the next, wrenching back the heads of the people he could reach. “My squad has to be here somewhere.”

Sophie studied the elderly man in front of her. She knew he was alive because the Organics were keeping him alive. But how they were doing it wasn’t clear. They seemed to be suspended and held in place by some invisible electrical force. With a sigh she whispered, “I’m sorry this happened to you.” She reached to pat his arm gently, and his eyes popped open.

“Oh my God,” she yelled, tripping over her feet and landing on her back. Her head smashed into the back of her helmet. Darkness began to creep over her. She blinked several times and opened her eyes to stare into the endless blue sky. There was something flying above her, a tiny black object. Was she just imagining things? Was her mind playing tricks on her again?

Blinking several more times, her vision finally cleared. She looked at the sky again. The black object was getting bigger, descending from above.

The loud boom hit her like a shockwave from a massive earthquake, shaking the ground where she lay. She rolled over to see Jeff and Bouma fall to the dirt, clouds of dust exploding around them. Sophie tried to stand, bracing herself against the pole where the man was trying to reach out to her.

“Help me,” he wheezed.

“Hold—” she began to say when another shockwave hit her. She flailed for the man’s hand but crashed to the ground. The pole vibrated and the glow intensified. Panicking, she began to crawl across the dirt. All the poles were getting brighter, trembling with every blast.

Sophie tilted her head and scanned the sky. The black object was racing in their direction. And this was no drone. It was . . .

It was the black ship from her dreams.

Her heart jolted insider her chest. She counted the beats as she lay on the ground, paralyzed. Thoughts of Emanuel, Jeff, and the rest of her team disappeared. Staring at the ship, she fell into a trance. The sight was both mystifying and terrifying at the same time.

She was finally going to see the real Organics. The aliens behind the solar storms and the invasion that had left Earth a post-apocalyptic wasteland. They had killed almost everyone she had ever known. Now she was going to see the monsters’ faces with her own eyes.

Five heartbeats later, the ship lowered over the lakebed. It was as large as the one in her dream, covering the entire area. A gust of air hit her and sent her tumbling over the cracked dirt. She landed a beat later, her back smashing into one of the poles. A strong electric current raced through her body. And then she felt the most powerful sensation she had ever experienced, like she was connected to a thousand different consciousnesses at once.

Darkness clutched her.

She tried to stay awake, tried to fight the pain. The faint sound of gunfire broke out somewhere in the distance, and then she heard screams over the com. She couldn’t make out the voice, but she could make out a single word.

“Run!”

CHAPTER 31

CAPTAIN Noble braced himself as tiny rocks peppered the chopper. They were probably no larger than pebbles, but at 350 miles per hour they had virtually the same effect as high-caliber bullets. The helicopter’s armor was thick enough to survive hundreds of dust storms, but the windshield? Noble wasn’t so sure.

When he turned to check the blue screen for the drone’s location, another tremor violently shook the chopper. He lurched forward, the seat belt snapping against his armored chest.

Static erupted over the com. “Losing auxiliary power!” the pilot yelled.

Noble forced himself into a sitting position. “What the hell was that?”

“The drone, sir . . . it’s using some sort of . . .”

The cabin was suddenly filled with blue light as the drone’s beam engulfed the Sea Serpent. Another vibration ripped through the chopper’s body.

Noble fought the turbulence and twisted toward Harrington. “We need to get that thing off our ass or we’re going to end up worm food!”

Harrington nodded and unclipped his belt before Noble had a chance to react. The soldier crouch-walked over to the side of the cabin where one of the automatic miniguns was mounted to the floor. “Lenny, get over here,” he yelled over the noise of the storm.

“Strap into the other gun and take that drone down!”

“On it!” Lenny replied.

Noble watched the other soldier unbuckle his belt and dart for the second gun. Seconds later, Harrington and Lenny were strapped into the mounts and turret doors groaned open. Sand immediately burst through the gaps, showering the other soldiers with rocks.

Harrington rotated the gun into position. He squeezed off an automatic burst of pulse rounds at the craft as soon as his crosshairs locked on. The drone reacted swiftly, diving beneath the craft and disappearing from view.

“Lenny, watch for it!” he yelled.

The pilot’s voice was distant as it broke over the com. “Looks like we lost it!” The transmission cut out when another wind gust hit the chopper’s side. Noble lost his grip on the armrest and jolted to the side. The entire craft shook and blue light flooded through the windows.

Angled over the left side of his seat, Noble watched the drone emerge on Lenny’s side of the chopper. The glow from its beam reflected off the visors of the other soldiers, who stared ahead like machines. They had been trained for this very thing.

Where Harrington had failed, Lenny succeeded. The rounds from his gun tore into the drone’s sides. The alien craft spun out of control, disappearing into the storm. Just as Lenny clenched his fist in victory, the drone reappeared and bolted toward the chopper. Before he had a chance to react, it smashed into the turret door. A horrible groan rippled through the chopper as the window, the minigun, and Lenny were sucked out into the storm, leaving a massive hole in the Sea Serpent’s side.

Wind screamed into the cabin, bringing with it a torrential spray of rocks and dust. Safety harnesses deployed from the ceiling and bolted the soldiers into their seats.

“Close it!” Noble screamed. His words were lost under the sounds of the storm. He gripped the metal harness around his chest and watched the backup door slowly close over the hole in the helicopter’s side.

Before the hole was sealed, he saw the darkness of the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky just as the door crunched closed. Somewhere out there, Lenny was being torn apart. Noble closed his eyes, forcing the image out of his head. He had to remain strong. The drone was gone, but the Sea Serpent was still at the mercy of the storm.

Sophie awoke to the horrifying feeling of solitude. She tried to open her eyes, to scan her surroundings, but her eyelids were too heavy. The last thing she remembered was hitting her back on a pole. But oddly, she felt no pain. She reached where her visor should have been and instead felt her face.

Then she remembered the black ship.

Her eyelids finally snapped open, and a world of dazzling orbs surrounded her. She was back on the same ship she had dreamt she was on days earlier—the ship that was now hovering over the lakebed.

But how had she gotten inside? And where were the others?

Sitting up, she twisted to look for Overton, Jeff, and Bouma. Had they been captured too?

Nothing.

Wait . . .

There, against the backdrop of orbs was something . . . alien.

She counted them one at a time. Six gaunt, glowing figures hovered in the air. Like flames, the figures flickered, the blue light shimmering. The horrifying feeling of being alone disappeared.

Sophie narrowed her eyes. She’d never believed in the paranormal. But the apparitions reminded her of ghosts, figures from a horror movie, flickering in and out of existence. Slowly she tilted her head.

One of the figures disappeared and then reappeared above the platform, bathing her in a cool blue. Through the light, she could see the alien had no eyes, no face. It had no arms or legs or even a recognizable torso. The creature was just a conglomeration of shifting blue flesh. Nothing indicated it was even a life-form. It was like . . .

No, that’s impossible, she thought. Multidimensional life-forms were just a theory.

The creature continued to shift, flickering like a hologram. Sophie was so fascinated she had forgotten everything else around her. Oddly, she didn’t feel the same fear that had paralyzed her before, nor did she feel anxious. In fact, she felt nothing but awe.

Sophie reached out toward the being. And then it was gone, a trail of blue light fading where it had just hovered. She crawled to the platform’s edge and looked down. Where there had been a circular opening in her dream, there was only the sleek dark surface of the ship. It was then it really hit her.

This wasn’t a dream. She was trapped.

She needed time to think. Were those shifting blue shapes the intelligent Organics? And were they really multidimensional creatures? Theoretically it was possible, but watching it was like seeing a god with her own eyes. She couldn’t explain it, but something about them seemed timeless. The revelation was gripping, but still she did not feel fear or anxiety.

Sophie emerged from her thoughts at the sound of a distant, low humming. She’d heard the exact noise before in a secret NTC lab over five years ago. It was the sound of anti-gravity technology—technology that wasn’t supposed to exist. Only it did. And it had been hidden right under her nose.

Eve.

“Jesus,” Sophie muttered. Hoffman had been using the alien technology long before the invasion. Certainly he could have found a way to stop them, to defeat them. Unless he didn’t want to.

Eve wasn’t the only part of the equation that didn’t make sense. What about Luke Williard’s magnetic technology? He’d built it to help shield the planet from solar storms, and NTC had initially expressed interest in buying the tech. But Dr. Hoffman had scrapped the project at the last minute. Somehow, Sophie knew everything was connected, and Dr. Hoffman’s lies ran deeper than she could imagine. Scrambling on all fours across the platform, Sophie realized she would probably never know the extent of the man’s deceit.

A flicker of light distracted her. She paused and scanned the interior for signs of the entity. Again, she didn’t see anything except the glow of the orbs, and the longer she stared, the harder it was to see clearly.

Somewhere beyond her reality she knew she was being watched by the Organic. She could sense it—almost feel its presence. As she turned, a blue radiance enveloped her and the same shifting blob of blue flesh appeared. Before she could comprehend what was happening, the room disappeared. Darkness washed over her.

Then there was light.

Her hands shot up to shield her eyes from the extreme brightness just as a force grabbed her. There was no resisting it.

Her body went limp, her muscles useless. A warm sensation washed over her as she closed her eyes. She’d felt it before. Weightlessness. And yet she still felt no emotion. No fear or anxiety, just the awareness of being alive.

She was being transported.

She watched the blue walls of the wormhole race by, mystifying and beautiful. And then it was over her. She was back on a solid surface. Back on . . .

Blinking, she opened her eyes to see an endless sea of red sand. Above her was a white sun. She knew at that moment she was on Mars.

Reaching for her helmet, she felt her fingertips on her naked face. If she was on Mars and she wasn’t dreaming, then how could she breathe? She stood on the planet’s rocky surface waiting for the being to reemerge. Sophie knew it was there with her—she knew it had brought her here for a reason.

When she turned, the red landscape disappeared, replaced with the most beautiful sight she had seen in months: an ocean. She found herself beneath the slurping waves, sinking deeper and deeper into the blue abyss. Above her the sunlight began to disappear, but another light illuminated the seafloor from below—a dazzling blue glow radiated from giant coral-like tubes that twisted between hundreds of bright domes that littered the ocean floor.

As Sophie sank deeper, she could see signs of movement under the clear surface of one of the domes. What appeared at first to be miniature crabs turned out to be thousands of Spiders. They were just tiny specs moving back and forth, some carrying orbs while others roamed freely.

As she got closer to the dome she could see Sentinels, Worms, and other creatures. Ones she had never seen. Before she was close enough to examine their anatomy, a guttural sound erupted, and with it came a fiery glow. The seafloor began to shake violently, a fatal crack ripping through the surface. The dome shattered, and the aliens were sucked out of their habitat. Lava burst out of the gash in the seafloor, instantly consuming the entire city of domes.

Sophie began to rise toward the surface, an unknown source pulling her away from the catastrophe below. Another crack broke through the seafloor, running perpendicular to the river of lava carpeting the bottom. Sophie could see the fissures were beginning to spread, extending in every direction. The faint glow of other domes in the distance vanished as the massive underwater volcano consumed them too.

As she rose up toward the surface, she saw there was something else rising with her.

Ships.

She tried to count them as they escaped, but the scene disappeared.

Sophie found herself back in the bowels of the black ship. She slid her hand across the metal platform. The sleek surface was still cold. For the first time, her mind struggled against the odd sense of peace. What was she doing here? Why was she being shown these things? And what had happened to the Organics on Mars? If they were intent on exterminating the human race, then why show her all this?

The questions raced through her mind as she sat waiting for something to happen. None of it made any sense. A faint glow shrouded her. The being had returned. She spun around to see the shifting blue flesh just inches away.

She tried to think, to comprehend what she was seeing, but her mind felt trapped.

What do you want from me?

There was no immediate answer, only the silent hum echoing off the walls and the constantly shifting flesh in front of her.

Why am I here?

Still there was no response.

She took a step closer to the alien and reached out for it, her fingers inching closer and closer to the fluid skin.

Another inch.

One more.

Her finger swiped through emptiness just as the alien vanished. Sophie fixated on the orbs lining the ship’s walls. For whatever reason, the alien had shown her what had happened to the Organics on Mars. They had been torn from their homes beneath the ocean by a massive volcano, and then left the planet in their black ships.

Above her, another light emerged. This was different from the blue she had become accustomed to; this was a soft teal that crept across the ceiling and ballooned into some sort of hologram. As the light expanded, it formed an image, one that Sophie recognized immediately as the solar system. The glow of the orbs in the background faded.

The hologram zoomed in on a comet racing through the darkness of space. Behind it several of the Organics’ black ships collected the icy residue from its tail.

The next image was of Jupiter’s moons. The same black ships hovered over the frozen surface of Europa as they collected the water beneath the slabs of ice.

And then she saw Earth. The beautiful blue oceans surrounding the continents she had memorized when she was a little girl.

Sophie realized that the images, the visions, were all snapshots of the Organics traveling across the solar system for water. They had sucked dry thousands of moons and planets. Killed hundreds of civilizations. Earth had simply been next.

Questions consumed her. Why hadn’t NTC or NASA discovered this before? Why hadn’t they detected the Organics? It was then she finally realized that they had. Eve had just been the beginning. Dr. Hoffman must have known all along the Organics had left Mars. He had to have known that if the Organics came to Earth, they would leave the planet desolate, dead, and void of life.

Sophie finally understood that the Biospheres weren’t just an experiment to help colonize Mars. The mission wasn’t to help humanity escape from the destruction their own hunger for resources had wrought; it was to help humanity escape from the Organics. There had been no need for Williard’s magnetic technology, because there was no stopping them.

But why had the multidimensional alien brought her here? Why had it shown her these visions?

She had to know—she deserved to know. With a new resolve, she pushed herself off the metal surface and yelled, “What do you want from me?”

The only answer was the sparkle from thousands of orbs. Inside were aliens from worlds she would never see, creatures like the flower-shaped one she had seen in her dream. But why were they here? Why had the Organics kept them alive, the last remnants of their species?

No, no, she thought, shaking her head. It couldn’t be. But at that moment everything was finally clear. She was nothing more to the Organics than insects were to humans. She was simply a specimen for their collection.

A high-pitched shriek filled the chamber. Sophie reached for her ears as the noise intensified.

Not again. Please, not again.

A tremor shook the ship violently, and several orbs fell off the walls and splattered into a gooey mess below.

Sophie grabbed the platform’s side as another vibration ripped through the ship. The noise intensified. This was some sort of alarm.

A tremor brought her crashing to the platform’s metal surface. Sophie cupped her ears just as another sound broke out. A familiar sound—a human sound.

Gunfire?

Another tremor shook the ship, and an explosion tore through the wall she was facing. Hundreds of orbs burst into a blue mist as fire enveloped them.

Sophie dropped to her stomach. The sensation of amity vanished, and she once again was paralyzed by fear. She could no longer feel the being’s presence.

The thunderous explosions continued. For the second time in a single day, she thought she was going to die—that her journey had finally come to an end. She had seen Mars, and she had seen the intelligent Organics. She was ready for it all to be over. Closing her eyes, she let the darkness wash over her before one last explosion tore through the ship’s belly.

CHAPTER 32

THE right rotor of the Sea Serpent coughed thick plumes of black smoke. Captain Noble wasn’t sure how, but the pilot had managed to get them through the dust storm. The men owed Lenny and the pilot their lives, but for now they had bigger concerns.

Looking out the window, Noble saw another volley of rockets racing out of the tubes beneath the left wing. He watched them tear into the black ship’s sides. Fiery explosions erupted out of the sleek matte surface, prompting cheering from the soldiers.

Harrington unsnapped his belt and jumped to his feet. “Shut the hell up and prepare for insertion. Team go green. We drop in five!”

Harrington turned to Captain Noble. “Requesting permission to tag along, sir. I’m more effective on the ground than barking orders from the air.”

Noble thought about the request. Standard operating procedure was for Harrington to lead the battle from a mobile CIC, but this was no standard operation.

“Granted. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Roger, sir.”

One last barrage of rockets ripped into the side of the alien ship as it began to maneuver away from the lakebed.

The sound of explosions mixed with the groaning of the opening cargo door. Noble reached for his visor, shielding his eyes from the intense light. He could hear boots smacking the dry dirt below as the soldiers jumped out onto the lakebed. With one final deep breath, he closed his eyes and jumped into the fray.

Sergeant Overton watched the last rocket from the NTC chopper tear into the side of the alien ship. He flinched every time one of them exploded. It was a beautiful sight. Finally he had his vengeance—finally the tide had turned.

The chopper lowered onto the cracked dirt of the lakebed, sending a plume of dust exploding into the air. Overton watched anxiously as the bay door opened and a dozen NTC Special Forces soldiers tore across the landscape.

“Bouma!” Overton yelled over the net.

“Here,” the marine responded. He was standing a few feet behind the sergeant with Jeff.

“Where’s Sophie?” Overton asked in a raspy voice.

“She’s unconscious, sir. Hit her head hard earlier. I rested her against the pole over there,” he said pointing.

Overton took a quick glance before moving toward the NTC soldiers who were now racing up the hill. While he ran, the injured alien ship blasted back into the sky, the shockwave sending a massive cloud of hot, dust-filled air through the lakebed.

“Run, you bastards!” he shouted, raising his fist into the air.

Before he had a chance to shield himself, the backdraft sent him tumbling head over feet. He landed on his back, sliding across the dirt before finally coming to a stop just inches from one of the glowing poles. A woman stared down at him with glazed eyes, her arm hanging loosely at her side from a gash that had nearly severed it. The exposed muscles were too much for even his hardened stomach to handle.

Behind him the NTC soldiers slowed to a trot and blossomed out to form a perimeter around the hillside. Two of them broke off from the pack and paced over to Overton and Bouma.

“I’m Captain Noble with the NTC submarine Ghost of Atlantis, and this is Sergeant Donald Harrington, NTC Special Forces,” the man on the left said. He slipped off his helmet and rested it on the ground.

Overton studied the man’s bald head and iron-colored beard. He could tell just by looking at him that he wasn’t a soldier, but frankly, Overton didn’t care. If the man was the captain of an NTC sub, then he had traveled a long way to get here.

“It’s fucking great to see you guys,” Overton said, holding out an armored hand. “I’m Sergeant Ash Overton. That’s Corporal Chad Bouma and our friend Jeff,” he continued, pointing to the pair. “Doctor Sophie Winston from the Cheyenne Biosphere is back there. She needs immediate medical attention. I hope you have enough room in that chopper for survivors. We may be dealing with quite a few,” Overton finished, looking back at the poles.

Captain Noble scanned the rods rising above Overton’s head. “Harrington, I want half of your people searching for survivors. Position the other half along this ridgeline. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Roger that, sir,” Harrington said as he opened a private channel to his men. Six of them took off running before Captain Noble had a chance to give another order.

Noble turned to look at the helicopter. Thick spirals of smoke rose into the sky. “As you can see, our bird took quite a bit of damage on the way here. Requesting permission to regroup and perform maintenance at the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere.”

Overton watched the man’s lips move but didn’t hear a single word he said. Across the lakebed, a carpet of blue was spreading across the landscape. The light shimmered for several seconds before breaking past the houses and spilling over the dry dirt. For a beat, Overton thought he was looking at a lake again.

The sound of screeching aliens reminded him he would never see another body of water again. Before he had a chance to react, the far end of the ridgeline was teeming with Spiders.

But how was this possible? The range of the RVAMP was supposed to have cleared every alien for fifteen square miles. There was no way they could have . . .

There was no time to question what had happened with the RVAMP, only to focus on how to get the hell out of the city.

“Sir, collect your men and any survivors and get back to your chopper ASAP. We need to get the fuck out of here!” screamed Overton.

Noble turned to see the first wave of Spiders explode around the houses. The monsters crashed into one another, limbs and claws flailing in all directions.

Noble quickly slipped his helmet on. “Harrington, get our men back to the chopper. Tell them to grab only the strongest survivors. Have the rest of your men form a perimeter. Do not let those things get close!”

“Roger,” Harrington replied over the net.

Overton watched the NTC soldiers fan out over the lakebed. He stepped back and, with a sudden anxiousness, turned to Bouma. “Grab Sophie and get her to the chopper. Jeff, you go with him.”

“What about you?” asked Bouma. His voice was strained, like he already knew the answer.

“I’m going to look for the rest of our squad. Now move it!” Overton said, his legs moving before he finished speaking. He sprinted past Sophie and made his way down the row of poles. Scanning each face quickly, he worked his way from pole to pole.

Pandemonium broke out as Overton entered the heart of the farm. The chirp of automatic pulse rounds, even at a distance, was deafening. He could picture the NTC soldiers unloading magazine after magazine into the approaching horde—he could imagine the overwhelming fear they would inevitably feel when their rounds bounced harmlessly off the aliens’ shields.

Shit, he thought, remembering the electromagnetic pulse grenades. He brought his chin down to switch a private channel to Bouma. “Tell them to use ’nades.”

Static and gunfire overwhelmed Overton’s earpiece. The sound of war drowned out his voice. He tried again, “Bouma, do you read, over?”

“Yes . . . approaching chopper . . .” a distant-sounding voice responded.

“Tell them to use the electromagnetic grenades!” yelled Overton.

“Rog—” Bouma replied, his voice quickly cutting out.

Overton turned to look at the lakebed, but the forest of poles blocked his view. The intense blue glow that shrouded him made it difficult to see beyond a few yards. The longer he stood in one place, the blurrier his vision became. Standing inside the farm was like being in an old-fashioned tanning bed. His eyes were beginning to burn from the intense light.

With a sequence of blinks, he activated the protective tint on his visor. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw for the first time the size of the farm. A moan from overhead drew his attention. He looked up for the source of the noise, but only saw the distorted faces of the unconscious prisoners staring back at him. Were they in some sort of trance? It was hard to tell, and Overton was not a doctor. He pushed on, navigating the rows quickly.

Making his way deeper, he tried to count the poles but lost track. There were at least a hundred, this he knew, with about a dozen humans attached to each. With only two rows left to explore, he knew the chances of finding one of his men alive was slim. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close. He’d let so many of his fellow marines down in the past.

Determined, he pushed on and stopped at the bottom of another pole. He tilted his head upward, counting the bodies as his eyes quickly scanned their clothing.

One.

Five.

Nine.

He stopped at ten. His eyes fixated on the green camouflage fatigues of a gaunt figure halfway up the pole.

“Shit.” Whatever electrical current was gluing the survivors to the poles could probably capture him just as easily. Sophie had warned him of this. With no time to find an off switch, he was forced to improvise.

He grabbed a magazine one of the NTC soldiers had handed him earlier and jammed it home. Pointing the barrel at the bottom of the pole, he slowly pulled back on the trigger.

Wait, he thought, tilting his helmet back up the pole. The marine was at least twenty-five feet up, so the fall alone could be fatal. Especially if he or she was already injured. There was no way of knowing exactly what condition the soldier was in.

Overton cursed and flared his nostrils.

More gunfire erupted in the distance. Two minutes had passed. He had less than that to get the marine down. The horde would be closing in on the chopper.

I can’t leave them.

He knew he had no other choice. Pointing his rifle at the bottom of the pole, he emptied his entire magazine into the alien architecture. A loud whine rumbled from under the dirt, and the glow of the pole pulsated several times before dying.

One by one, the prisoners slid down the pole. Overton tossed his rifle to the ground and rushed to help, but the bodies came crashing down too quickly. The sound of bones shattering echoed in his helmet, making him cringe. Seconds later, a pile of twisted people lay in a heap on the ground.

“No!” he screamed, digging through the bodies. More gunfire poured out in the background, followed by several concussions that sent tremors through the ground.

No time.

With all his strength, he jerked and pulled bodies off the pile, clawing desperately for the marine. He finally uncovered the green fatigues. He yanked another body off the top and gazed upon the marine’s face for the first time. The unfamiliar feeling of grief overwhelmed him. It was Lieutenant Allison Smith; the woman had been with his recon unit for five years.

Goddamn, it’s good to see her, Overton thought. He paused to look Smith over. Her eyes were open but glassy. There was no immediate sign of consciousness. Overton struggled to pull the woman free from the others, watching her chest for signs of life. Slowly it rose and fell.

“Thank God,” Overton whispered. “You’re going to be okay, Smith. Just hang in there.” He tapped her face with an armored finger, and Smith let out a deep groan. A deep gurgling sound crackled in her throat. She’d more than likely suffered internal damage and some broken bones. Nothing they couldn’t patch up back at the med ward.

With one last ounce of strength, he hefted the injured marine over his shoulders and began trekking back through the forest of poles. He ignored the pleas from several of the civilians who had somehow managed to wake up, their arms reaching toward him, begging for help. There was nothing he could do for any of them now.

By the time Overton got to the slope of the hill, the entire lakebed was filled with Spiders. He froze at the top of the bluff. With astonishment, he watched the creatures surround the chopper. The Spiders were desperate, sacrificing themselves by racing into the wave of pulse rounds. Inch by inch, the suicidal creatures crept closer to the helicopter.

The com came to life with Bouma’s voice. “Overton, where are you? We’re leaving!”

“On my way!” Overton replied. He cautiously made his way down the slope, careful not to lose his footing and accidentally drop his precious cargo. When he got to the lakebed, his legs began to resist. His body was giving up on him. With Smith’s weight on his shoulders, his knees were beginning to groan, and his shoulder wound was flaring up, sending sharp spikes of pain down his back.

Don’t give up. You’re so close, he thought. A dash of adrenaline gave him an extra burst of energy. His footfalls were longer, his stride more efficient; he was going to make it.

And then he slid to a stop, nearly toppling Smith over his shoulders. Spiders were flanking the chopper on both sides. Several of the NTC soldiers were torn from the line. Claws ripped through their armor like it was plastic wrap.

Overton closed his eyes, flinching every time one of the Spiders sunk a claw into one of the terrified men. The line was beginning to break.

There were screams, shrieks, and more gunfire. The landscape was soaked with red and blue blood. It was hell. Overton had seen it before. And for the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure what to do. With an empty rifle and Smith on his back, all he could do was watch.

As the NTC line broke, soldiers retreated toward the chopper. Bursts from NTC plasma rifles sent the Spiders tumbling across the dirt. But there were too many of them, and they were suicidal with hunger.

Overhead, the blades thumped through the stale air, sending clouds of dust into the sky. Overton watched the last two soldiers jump into the cargo bay as the chopper began to rise from the ground. He was too late—he was cut off.

He turned to look back up at the poles. He could try and escape, but only if he left Smith. And that wasn’t an option.

“Wait!” a voice yelled over the net. “Overton is still out there!”

Overton pushed Smith farther up onto his shoulders; they weren’t going to make it. He had to find another escape route. “You have to leave without us!”

Static broke back over the net as the chopper rose farther into the air. A thick plume of smoke flowed out of one of the rotors. Before he had a chance to turn and run, a soldier appeared on a minigun angled off the helicopter’s side. Several small objects flew out of the open door and landed in the mass of Spiders below. At first Overton couldn’t make them out, but the sound of their deafening explosions quickly made him smile. The NTC soldiers were trying to save him.

The whine from the automatic pulse gun barked to life as the minigunner opened fire on the now-defenseless Spiders below. The rounds tore into the aliens, sending them crashing across the cracked dirt. Blue mist filled the area where the aliens had clustered. Nothing but gory chunks of meat left where a dozen of the creatures had stood moments earlier.

Overton didn’t waste the moment. With a deep grunt, he willed his legs forward and closed his eyes, sprinting for the safety of the chopper. His lungs burned with every breath and pain shot down his wounded shoulder.

Smith’s weight was unbearable, but it also gave him strength.

Only a few more steps, you old turd.

The chopper had lowered nearby. Skidding to a stop, he kicked alien body parts out of his way and attempted to lift Smith’s body into the air. Grunting, he pushed her off his shoulders with all his strength toward a pair of hands reaching down from above.

When Overton saw it was Bouma, he smiled. The marine had been loyal on every mission, never questioning orders, never hesitating when faced with danger.

With a final push, he heaved Smith’s limp body into the air. Bouma pulled her into the safety of the chopper. Gasping for air, Overton waited for his turn.

The Spiders were getting closer now. They circled around him.

Desperate now, Overton attempted to lift his right arm. It fell back to his side, limp and numb.

“Overton!” Bouma yelled, reaching down for him.

With every bit of strength he had left, he jumped for Bouma’s hand. Their armored fingers interlocked for a brief second. The world slowed to a crawl. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking. The tide had finally turned. Humanity had a shot at survival after all.

But for Overton, the fight was over. A Spider’s claws tore into his back, puncturing clear through his chest. Gasping, razor-sharp pain rushed into his lungs and webbed down his body. He crashed to the ground with the claw still inside his chest.

“No!” Bouma yelled as the chopper pulled into the air.

Overton coughed out a mouthful of blood. “Go,” he managed to choke out, raising a hand to wave the bird away. He watched the chopper rise farther into the air, Bouma’s visor slowly getting smaller as the man reached down for him. A spasm rushed through Overton’s body as the Spider ripped its claw free from his chest and tossed his limp body into the air. He landed in the heart of the horde, crashing onto the dry ground with a thud.

The Spiders ignored the escaping chopper and surrounded his body, forming a circle around him, their claws taunting him as they dug through the ground.

“Fuck you,” Overton tried to yell. But a deep, terrible choking sound came out instead. He watched the Spiders scamper closer to him. In a blur of shimmering blue light they engulfed him. Claws jerked and tore at his body. Mandibles released hungry shrieks. Their claws ripped through his armor. Stars bled across his vision.

He coughed again as a claw tore into his stomach, jerking him into a sitting position, before another claw nailed his shoulder to the ground. He screamed in pain, but the agony faded as the life drained from his body. He caught one final glimpse of the chopper between the repeated stabs, and he tried to smile. He had saved Smith and most of his squad. The mission had been a success.

His lips twisted into a half grin as a claw came down on his visor, splintering the glass.

CHAPTER 33

SOPHIE emerged from a deep sleep to the sound of voices. She struggled to open her eyes, suddenly filled with panic. Her mind was clouded in fog.

She narrowed her eyes and focused on the blurred faces.

“Sophie . . .” one of the hushed voices said, as if to test whether she was awake. Holly stared down at her.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” said another voice.

She recognized the voice as Emanuel’s, but didn’t have the energy to look at him.

“How long have I been out?” Sophie asked.

Emanuel whistled. “She’s back!” he yelled. “You’ve been out two days. And you have one hell of a concussion.”

“The ship . . .” she choked.

Emanuel smiled sourly. “NTC almost blew it out of the sky. The Organics didn’t even retaliate; they simply disappeared.”

“NTC?”

“Captain Noble from the submarine Ghost of Atlantis had been tracking the Biosphere radio signal. They showed up with a chopper just in time.”

Sophie raised a hand to her battered head. She couldn’t remember any of it. The last memory she had was of the explosions.

“How did I get out of the ship?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

The smile on Emanuel’s face disappeared, his features turning grave. “What do you mean?”

“How did I get out of the Organics’ ship?”

Emanuel stared back at her blankly. “I don’t follow . . .”

Holly touched Sophie’s wrist gently. “Sweetie, you were never inside the ship. Bouma brought you to the chopper after you were knocked unconscious in the middle of the farm.”

Sophie shook her head. “No, that isn’t right. I was inside. I saw . . .” She paused, trying to remember. “I saw them.”

Holly and Emanuel exchanged confused looks.

“Them?” Emanuel asked, his brow creased into an arch.

“The multidimensional Organics,” Sophie said. Excitement rushed through her as she began to remember. The Organics’ civilization on Mars, the black ships hovering over Europa. The images popped into her memory as if she were still watching them.

Emanuel pulled away from her bed and crossed his arms. “Sophie, you hit your head really hard. Whatever you think you saw was just—”

“No!” she protested, her voice getting louder. “I was inside that ship. I saw what happened to them. I saw Mars millions of years ago when the planet was partially covered in oceans. I watched their civilization destroyed by a massive volcano below the sea. I watched their ships trail a comet and collect the icy residue. I saw them harvesting the ice on Europa. There’s more, too. They have traveled to other solar systems. They’ve collected life from other planets.”

“Stop!” Emanuel yelled.

Sophie widened her eyes, startled by his raised voice.

Unfolding his arms, Emanuel crouched next to her bed and very softly said, “Sophie, you dreamt those things.”

“He’s right. It was nothing but a dream,” Holly said.

Sophie tried to collect her thoughts, focusing on the memories. They were so vivid. Just like her other dreams. Only these were real. Weren’t they?

Alexia’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Doctor Winston, your vitals indicate you are distressed. You have been through some severe trauma. May I suggest—”

“No, you may not, Alexia,” Sophie said forcefully. She closed her eyes and tried to recall anything that might be useful. Anything that might prove it wasn’t all just another dream—that it wasn’t just another product of the chip NTC had surgically placed in her neck.

She reached behind her head and ran her index finger over the scar. As she did, she noticed something had changed in Emanuel’s features. He no longer looked concerned—he looked frightened.

Sophie winced. She knew how she sounded, but she also knew what she had seen. The brief moment of silence was just enough to encourage her to continue.

“Doctor Hoffman knew about the invasion all along. And he knew enough about the Organics to understand they would leave Earth desolate, just like they did Mars. He knew there was no way to defeat them. That’s why he never developed Luke Williard’s technology.” Sophie paused so she could gauge Emanuel’s reaction. He looked back at her with wide eyes.

Growing angry, Sophie sat up. In a raised voice she continued, “The Biospheres weren’t just an experiment to help colonize Mars. The mission was never to help humanity escape from Earth. Don’t you see? It was to help humanity escape the Organics.”

“Look,” Emanuel said, running a hand through his hair. “What you’re saying makes no sense. Why would he have wanted to escape from one dying planet to another? Why go through all the trouble to convince the world that—”

“Because he knew the Organics wouldn’t chase us there! He knew they would have no reason to return to a planet they had already drained and destroyed,” Sophie said. She looked at each of them in turn and then reached out to Emanuel. “Please. You have to listen to me.”

There was softness in his eyes as he looked down at her, like he actually felt bad for her. Then he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “But you were just dreaming, Sophie.”

Emanuel stood up and paced over to Holly to whisper in her ear.

Sophie struggled to move. “What? What is it?”

“There’s a lot we haven’t told you,” Holly replied. “A lot has happened in the past few days. And I suppose now is just as good a time as any.”

Sophie’s stomach sank. She had heard those words before. The last time, someone had died. She took in a deep breath and gathered the strength to ask, “Who did we lose?”

Emanuel looked at the ground. “Sergeant Overton.”

Sophie looked at him with disbelief. When she opened her mouth nothing but warm breath poured out. Words simply wouldn’t form.

“No . . . that isn’t possible,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “He was right behind me when we reached the poles.”

Alexia’s hologram shot out of the console at the edge of her bed. The AI tilted her head and looked at Sophie. Then Sophie saw something she never expected: a faint hint of emotion in Alexia’s features. It was evident only for a second as she blinked, but Sophie saw the strain in the AI’s face before she spoke. “I’m afraid Doctor Brown and Doctor Rodriguez are correct. Sergeant Overton was killed in Colorado Springs.”

Sophie immediately forgot about the implications of Alexia’s behavior. She felt like she had been slapped in the face. She closed her eyes, her gut sinking. In a low voice, she finally managed to speak. “How?”

“Saving one of his own. Another marine named Allison Smith,” Emanuel said, grabbing Sophie’s hand. “She’s with the team in the mess hall.”

“How many survivors are there?”

“There were five, but only Smith made it through the night. The others were just too far gone,” Holly said. “They faded fast after they were removed from the poles.”

Sophie sank back into her bed, reaching again for her pounding forehead. “And Kiel?”

“The little guy showed up shortly after the NTC chopper brought you back. He has a broken leg, two cracked ribs, and a concussion, but he made it.”

Sophie marked Kiel down as one of the first men to thank when she got better. He had saved her life and the lives of everyone else by risking his own.

Emanuel leaned over her bed and kissed her on the forehead. “You need to rest now. We’ll come back later and check on you.”

Closing her eyes, Sophie let her head sink into her pillow. She knew better than to argue with him. With the loss of Sergeant Overton still sinking in, she simply wanted to go back to sleep. To curl up and hibernate.

The overhead lights clicked off and the room was shrouded in darkness. Sophie tried to relax, but she was afraid to dream. She was afraid of what she would see—she was afraid she would no longer be able to decipher what was real from what wasn’t.

EPILOGUE

CAPTAIN Noble studied the tablet Dr. Winston had given him earlier. It held the blueprints to the RVAMP device that Dr. Rodriguez had designed. It was hard to believe that something so simple could turn the tide of a war that had seemed all but lost a few days earlier. Now all he had to do was return safely to his submarine and get the specs into the hands of one of his engineers.

As he placed the tablet into a titanium case, he thought briefly of Captain Quan and the fate of the Chinese sub. While there was now hope for humanity, there was little hope that Quan’s crew had survived. He knew they had more than likely perished, and with them his own crew members.

The massive blast doors of Cheyenne Mountain groaned open, and rays of morning light illuminated the hangar. It was another reminder of what was still worth fighting for. He turned to look at Harrington and the eight other NTC soldiers waiting for his orders. The ragtag group of scientists and children stood behind them. He studied every face. Each one, in his or her own way, represented the best of what humanity had to offer.

Captain Noble smiled as Dr. Winston hobbled over, her hand gripping a makeshift cane made out of a metal table leg.

“I want to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done to help us, Captain Noble.” She returned his smile and reached out to shake his hand.

He put both hands over hers and looked her in the eye. “You are most welcome. Please know you have a friend watching out for you a thousand meters beneath the surface of the Pacific. We will monitor the encrypted channel and can be here within twenty-four hours if you need our help. Once we determine a strategy, we’ll inform you of the plan. We may need your help in the future. But for now, please grant me just one request.”

Sophie nodded. “Anything.”

“Just stay alive,” Noble said.

Sophie winked at him. “We’ll try our best.”

She rejoined her crew, putting her hand on Owen’s matted brown hair. He looked up at her with a grin that revealed a missing front tooth. She laughed and turned to watch the NTC soldiers walk into the sunlight.

Captain Noble turned one last time and saluted. “Good luck!” he called before disappearing beyond the doors.

Climbing into the helicopter, he took a seat away from the other soldiers so he could look out the small, reinforced window. As the Sea Serpent lifted into the air, he watched the blast doors of Cheyenne Mountain slowly close. He looked away from the mountain and into the sky. Picturing Mars somewhere up above, he thought of Dr. Hoffman. The man would be proud. Noble had helped ensure one of the Biospheres would survive after all.

No matter the odds, he would make sure Dr. Hoffman’s plan succeeded.

—End of Book II—

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CHAPTER 1

CAPTAIN Rick Noble sat silently in his chair, stroking his freshly shaved face with two fingers. He traced a circular pattern across his jawline. The unfamiliar smoothness of his skin felt as foreign to him as the aliens he watched silently creep across the screen hovering above his desk.

The video feed, recorded weeks before their mission to Colorado Springs, was a source of morbid fascination for him. He’d watched it a dozen times now, replaying the film over and over with the hope of learning something new about the aliens. But each time the grainy feed revealed little about the insectlike creatures. And each time he watched one of his soldiers get torn apart, he felt the regret any commander inevitably felt after leading men into battle.

A flash of movement pulled him closer to the screen. The horde of aliens surrounded a single figure. The camera mounted to the chopper had managed to catch the last heroic act of Marine Sergeant Ash Overton.

Noble flinched when the first Spider sank its claws through the marine’s matte black armor, but he did not close his eyes—Noble focused on the screen. He owed it to the man. Overton had given his life to save one of his soldiers. Watching the sacrifice filled Noble with strength.

There were still honorable men to fight a merciless army.

The skin on his forearms tingled, goose bumps forming as he remembered his father. The man had been a firm believer that humanity would eventually destroy itself. He had drilled that into Noble’s head from a young age. The retired soldier claimed that the end would come sooner rather than later. All that time, Noble thought his father was just another washed-up, paranoid commander. But his father had been right.

He was goddamned right, Noble thought. The corner of his mouth twisted as he recalled what his dad used to say.

The apocalypse will bring out the best and the worst in men. When the horsemen come, you will have to decide what type of man you are and if you will run from the horrors or fight.

Noble turned away from the screen and eyed a picture of his late father.

Like his father, Noble believed that all men were created equal. In war, that meant either side could win. But what if you weren’t fighting men? What if the enemy was more advanced and intelligent than his father could ever have imagined?

“What would you do?” he muttered to the photograph. He wished the man were still around to give him advice, or to see the real horsemen of the apocalypse. Now he was alone. His father was dead, and so was every other ally he could have counted on in the past. He was the last NTC commander on Earth.

Noble shoved the thought to the side. He had to maintain his focus. He needed to find the enemy’s weakness. There had to be a way to fight them.

Glancing back at the monitors he saw the Spiders teeming across the lakebed. They consumed Overton quickly. Even without audio, Noble could imagine the sound of talons puncturing flesh and breaking bone. The grotesque wet thunk of every slash echoed in his mind as the feed cut out.

With a sigh, he flicked the screen off and ran his fingers over his jaw once more, back and forth. The images told him nothing he didn’t already know. And Overton’s death reminded him of all the other men and women they’d lost. Some deaths had been expected, a sad fact of war, but others, like the death of high school history teacher Alex Wagner, were unexpected. It was his suicide that illustrated exactly how dark the world had become.

Noble scanned his office. He needed a drink. Something stiff. Anything that would subdue the memories. As soon as he reached for a bottle of Scotch, his desktop monitor chirped with an incoming message. It felt late, past the normal time for his daily evening briefing. He’d lost track of time watching the video feed from Colorado Springs.

He glanced down at his watch.

1905 hours.

Something must be wrong, Noble thought. His new executive officer, Lt. Commander Richards, was never a second late with any of his reports. The man had proven to be the most punctual member of his crew.

Hesitating, Noble eyed the liquor one last time before hunching over the aged mahogany desk and swiping the screen with his index finger. An image of Richards appeared. The blond stubble covering his young face had grown dangerously close to what one might consider a beard, another unusual characteristic for the officer.

Filling Lt. Commander Lin’s shoes would be difficult for anyone, but Richards was struggling. The cramped spaces, the dwindling hope for survival, the death of billions of civilians at the hands of a terrifying alien species, and finally the loss of their one military ally, the Chinese X-9 submarine—the combined pressure was enough to crack the hardest of minds. Considering everything they’d been through, Noble wasn’t surprised to see Richards’s eyes were glazed over with fatigue and fear.

“Captain, I apologize for the delay but . . .” He paused; the muffled sound of raised voices crackled over the speakers. Richards craned his neck to silence the crew with a raised hand. The officers behind him huddled around the main monitor, staring at something just out of Noble’s view.

Turning back to the camera, Richards simply said, “Sir, please report to the bridge. There’s something I’d like you to see.”

Another series of stifled voices emanated from behind the XO. He turned again, this time focusing on the monitor that Noble couldn’t see, and then the feed cut out.

Noble hurried from his quarters. He squeezed past deckhands in the hallway, navigating the halls without offering the courtesy of his typical hello.

Had the Organics found them?

He glanced up at a bank of emergency lights protruding off a bulkhead. Surely Irene, the ship’s AI, would have alerted him if the aliens had found them.

Rounding the next corner, he hurried into the hallway beyond. Thick gray pipes ran the length of the ceiling. He eyed them as he ran. Like metal veins, the tubes served as the vessel’s lifeblood, carrying various resources throughout the sub. He grabbed one of them to steady himself before ducking into the next corridor. The pipe groaned from the weight of his grip, reminding him that the ship, like a living creature, had a lifespan. They couldn’t hide beneath the surface forever.

By the time he reached the last hallway he was out of breath. He slowed and tried to regain his composure as he approached the doors to the CIC. He halted a few feet away from the guard, pausing to straighten his wrinkled uniform with a quick brush.

The guard threw up a quick salute and then swept his keycard over the sensor. The glass panes whisked apart, and Noble strode onto the bridge. He scanned the three-level room from the top floor. A group of officers crowded around the main display at the bottom.

“Captain,” came a frantic voice. He glanced over to see his navigation officer, Athena, staring up at him with owlish eyes from her station.

“What the hell is going on?” Noble asked.

Before she could respond, he crossed the metal platform and loped down the ramp to the first floor.

Athena called out after him, but her voice faded against the chirps and beeps of various sensors that echoed through the chamber. The world slowed around him as he walked. His eyes darted from station to station until each console and face became a blur of colors. Several officers on the second level shouted his name as he passed, but he ignored them.

When he reached the bottom deck he finally caught a glimpse of the main display through a gap in the gathered crew. He squinted, standing on his tiptoes for a better look.

“Move,” he said, making his way through the crowd. Up near the screen, Richards wore a solemn look, and Noble finally saw why.

The front-facing cameras on the GOA had captured a ghostly image: the body of the X-9 Chinese submarine.

“My God, we’ve found it,” Noble said, studying the outline of the vessel. His awe lasted only briefly before reality set back in. A warning sensor blared behind him.

“Irene, systems check,” Noble ordered the Russian AI, rushing over to her interface.

“All systems at one hundred percent, sir.”

He looked next to his communications officer, Trish. Noble knew it was a long shot, but held onto a flicker of hope that the crew was still alive. The sub hadn’t steered itself to the rendezvous coordinates.

“Have you been able to hail Captain Quan?” Noble asked.

The young woman’s voice was cool and calm. “Negative, sir. I’ve attempted to send messages over the analog channel and through Morse code. So far, nothing.”

Noble nodded at her thoughtfully and then paced over to Lt. Richards. “Have our scanners picked up anything?”

The XO flicked his console and squinted. “We are picking up multiple life-forms on the X-9, sir.”

“Human?” Noble replied.

“Inconclusive.” There was a slight deviation in his voice. “The titanium shell is blocking our readings.”

Noble gritted his teeth, letting his frustration show. If the Organics were still aboard the X-9, then he was putting his crew at risk with every passing second. He had to make a decision. “Get our weapons system online. And patch me through to Sergeant Harrington. I want his men prepped and ready to board the X-9 within the hour.”

He looked down at his watch.

2000 hours.

He pushed down to turn on the stopwatch function. Good old-fashioned Swiss engineering, he thought, more accurate than any digital timepiece aboard this billion-dollar sub.

The watch clicked and another mechanical sound instantly followed. Noble saw Irene’s ghostly blue hologram flash in his peripheral vision. Her presence meant one thing—she had other plans.

“Captain, I would highly advise against boarding the X-9—”

He raised his hand to silence the AI. “I understand the risk we are taking, Irene. No need to give me the statistics on this one. But I’m not abandoning Captain Quan or Lieutenant Commander Lin again. Not now.”

“Sir,” Richards whispered.

Noble looked at his XO. The man seemed terrified. And he wasn’t the only one. Athena, Trish, and his entire crew stared back at him with the same uncertain looks. He huffed and flared his nostrils out of habit.

Was he doing the right thing? Was the slim chance of finding Lin or anyone else alive on the X-9 worth risking his crew? Especially now, when so much was at stake?

Noble bowed his head in defeat. The men and women of the GOA had already sacrificed so much. And he couldn’t jeopardize their new mission of saving the remaining Biospheres. Despite Dr. Hoffman’s orders not to interfere, Noble would continue the fight—would continue to ensure the Biospheres survived. They were humanity’s last hope on Earth.

Without further thought, he puffed out his chest and said, “Irene, cancel the order to Harrington. Load two Class-4 missiles and prepare to fire on the X-9.”

The image of the Russian AI faded without a response.

“No!” a voice yelled from a dim station at the edge of the first floor. Lt. Commander Le from the X-9 stood and raised a hand, his eyes pleading for Noble to reconsider. The captain had been so captivated by the discovery of the X-9 he’d forgotten about Captain Quan’s XO.

“Trish, will you translate?”

“Aye, sir.” She rose from her chair and made her way over to Le’s corner. Noble waited with the rest of his crew in silence as they spoke. A minute later Trish paced over to the helm.

“Sir, he’s volunteered to lead a mission with the Chinese Special Forces that came aboard with Captain Quan earlier. He’s suggested putting a safe distance between the GOA and the X-9, at which point he will use a mini sub to board and check for survivors.”

Noble shot Le a glance. The short officer stared back at him confidently. The X-9 had been his home for more than a decade. Even though remote, there was still a possibility there were survivors.

Noble couldn’t take that away from him. And truthfully, the Chinese officer’s plan wasn’t all that bad. Risking one of the mini subs was better than risking the GOA.

Glancing back down at his wrist, he watched the second hand rotate. Every moment they spent floating idly brought them another dangerous second closer to being discovered by the Organics. He had to make a decision.

“What do you think, Richards?” Noble finally asked.

The young officer ran a hand through the back of his blond hair. Raising one bushy eyebrow, he said, “Worth a shot, I suppose.”

Noble cracked a grin. His XO had some fight in him after all.

“Notify Engineering. Tell them I want the mini sub prepped for launch ASAP.”

Richards nodded and picked up his headset. “Aye, sir.”

CHAPTER 2

SERGEANT Harrington worked off a simple principle—always do the right thing. A devout Methodist, he relied heavily on his faith to guide him. At forty-five, he had spent a majority of his life and career following this code. With a wife of twenty years and two adult daughters, living up to these self-imposed expectations hadn’t always been easy. And the newest request from Command was the perfect example of why.

As he stared into the vehicle depot and watched Commander Le gear up with several other Chinese soldiers, he wasn’t sure what to do. The chances of finding anyone alive aboard the Chinese sub were slim. He’d seen the video of glowing, snakelike aliens covering the massive submarine. He’d heard the transmissions, the screams, and the gunfire.

Yet the sergeant still held out hope. Like any good soldier, the trait was ingrained inside him. Without hope, what was there to fight for?

Clenching the cold metal railing of the walkway overlooking the vehicle depot, Harrington watched the team of Chinese soldiers below. The commander slipped into his armored suit with graceful precision. The other Chinese soldiers followed his lead, climbing into their light- blue armor. With their oval-shaped helmets, life support systems, and tinted visors, they looked like they were about to walk on Mars, not board a submarine.

Harrington sighed. He couldn’t let them go alone. Not just the four of them. Bringing a hand to his headset, he said, “Lieutenant Diego, feel like taking a swim?”

White noise filled the private channel he’d opened to his second in command.

“Not particularly,” the younger man replied seconds later.

“Me either, but I don’t feel right about letting Le go without our support.”

Diego groaned over the channel. “I was afraid you were going to say that. All right. I guess I’m in. That should be the max we can fit in the mini sub.”

“Copy that. Suit up and I’ll meet you in the launch area in fifteen. I’ll inform Captain Noble.” Harrington clenched his jaw. “Oh, and John?”

“Sir?”

“Thanks. It will be nice to have a friendly face with me on this one.”

“You know I have your back, sir.”

Harrington smiled and loosened his grip on the metal railing. He flashed a thumbs-up to Le, who watched from below. The Chinese soldier gave one back and marched his team to the launch bay.

When they disappeared from view, Harrington opened a private channel to Command. “Captain Noble, this is Harrington.”

“Roger, Harrington, report.”

“Diego and I are going to join Le and his men.”

“I figured you would if you had the chance.”

“Aye, sir. I will keep you apprised. Over.”

“Wait.”

Harrington listened to static flicker over the channel for several awkward seconds before the captain finally found the words.

“Harrington, don’t take any unnecessary risks. The GOA can’t afford to lose you. You’re the best damn soldier on this ship. We may not be able to see those monsters now, but I’m sure they are out there somewhere,” Noble warned.

“They won’t get the drop on us,” Harrington said confidently.

“Good luck, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harrington said. He released his grip on the railing and scanned the room one more time. A dying LED blinked in the corner of the cargo bay. The sporadic blue glow illuminated the shadows under the Sea Serpent gunship, reminding Harrington of the alien creatures he’d encountered in Colorado Springs. For a moment he felt the deep tug of fear in his gut and wondered what he would find when they opened the air lock to the X-9. The captain was more than likely right. The Organics were out there.

Waiting.

A bank of overhead LEDs sparkled in the water around the black mini sub. The vessel was partially submerged in Cargo Bay 1. Up close, the sub looked much smaller than Harrington remembered.

His earpiece came alive as he walked across the metal platform, Irene’s smooth Russian accent spouting off data. Harrington ignored her and paced around the outside of the sub. From his vantage point he couldn’t see any portholes, only the smooth black surface and an emblem that read Destiny 1.

He made his way around the backside and studied the oval-shaped acrylic observation window. Through the glass he could see a panel of manual controls and buttons; some that had to be over twenty years old. Despite her age, she looked strong. The acrylic glass was thick and the titanium plates on the outside were solid.

“Engineering says she’s ready to go,” Diego said over a private channel. He came up behind the sergeant and patted the sub’s exterior; the metallic clanking echoed through the chamber.

Harrington gave the younger soldier a once-over. His matte black armor appeared polished, and his visor was so clear he could see Diego’s handlebar mustache. It was at an odd angle, twisted to the right.

“Feeling all right?” Harrington asked when he saw Diego biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Just a bit nervous.”

Harrington nodded. The man had every right to be nervous. Shit, he was nervous, too, and he’d seen some horrible things in his seventeen years as a soldier. They were seven hundred feet beneath the ocean’s surface, hiding from an advanced alien race that had successfully wiped out over 95 percent of the world’s population in just a few months. NTC was outnumbered, outgunned, and on the run—another reason it was so important to save anyone who might be left aboard the X-9.

Diego slung the strap of his pulse rifle over his shoulder and followed an engineer in fiery-red coveralls to the other side of the platform, where Commander Le’s team stood waiting. Their automatic helmet lights had clicked on in the dimly lit space, and for a second the group reminded Harrington of an astronaut team.

The engineer stopped in front of the group and stepped toward them nervously, a trail of sweat bleeding from his receding hairline. He grabbed the handle of the mini sub’s steel door and struggled to open it. One of the Chinese soldiers offered his assistance and the mechanism unlocked with a groan.

The man in red coveralls wiped his forehead with his sleeve and spun to look at the group. After he took control of his labored breathing he said, “Gentlemen, you are about to board Destiny 1. Make no mistake, this mini sub was not meant to carry passengers. She was designed as a research vessel, and NTC commandeered her for that purpose only. But due to our current depth, we can’t use any of the other submersibles.”

“Is this shit safe?” Diego blurted.

“We wouldn’t send you out there in something that wasn’t,” the engineer said curtly.

“Of course,” Harrington added. “Commander Le, after you,” he said, gesturing with his armored hand to the port door.

Inside, the mini sub reeked of mold. Harrington could smell it through the cheap plastic breathing apparatus built into his helmet. He squirmed through the opening, the smell hitting him as soon as he ducked into the cramped main compartment.

Taking a step into the sub, his foot splashed in a puddle of stale water. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at the engineer. “I thought you said this thing was safe. Looks like it has a leak.”

The man shrugged and pulled his arm across his forehead again. “If Engineering said it’s good to go, then it’s good to go.”

Harrington snorted and moved to the last two empty seats in the back. Irene’s voice filled his earpiece as he ducked under a metal pipe snaking across the ceiling.

“All life support systems at one hundred percent. Prepare to disembark,” the AI said.

“Good luck,” the engineer said. He swung the massive steel door shut behind them. There was a loud thud and a metallic clicking as the door’s automatic locking mechanism kicked in.

Harrington settled into his seat, waiting for Irene to activate the sub’s systems. Seconds later her voice emerged over the cabin’s speakers.

“Be advised, Destiny 1 will be ready in T minus thirty seconds.”

A shallow rumbling vibrated through the metal walls as the engines flared to life. Harrington twisted his helmet so he could see out the port window. He flinched when the hissing started. Seconds later the sub shook again and he could hear a faint splashing sound.

“Descending,” Irene said over the com.

Harrington watched several of the Chinese soldiers reaching for grab bars that hung from the metal ceiling. They had to be more nervous, not understanding English. They were counting on Le, who seemed to have very limited knowledge of it himself, to relay information.

The hissing grew louder and a trail of large bubbles rose outside the port window. Within seconds, the floor of the GOA’s Cargo Bay 1 disappeared and the vast darkness of the ocean consumed them.

A pair of overhead lights flicked on automatically. Warm red light filled the compartment.

“Destiny 1 now in open water,” Irene said. “Activating exterior lights.”

An audible click echoed through the sub’s interior and two beams of white light tore through the darkness. “Descending at one hundred feet per minute.” The AI’s undeviating voice normally sounded calming to Harrington, but the black depths of the ocean made him uneasy. Even with the rays of artificial light guiding them, he felt nervous. The metal box surrounding him felt more like a coffin than a vehicle. Harrington focused on Irene’s voice.

“In three hundred feet you will stop at the edge of an underwater trench, where I will deactivate autopilot and manually steer the Destiny 1 along the ravine until you reach the X-9.”

The very mention of an underwater trench sent chills down Harrington’s legs. He’d read that some of them were miles deep, with molten rock spewing from cracks in the Earth’s crust. Odd creatures lived there. Strange bacteria and alien-looking fish. Things he’d seen only in documentaries.

It made him wonder if perhaps the Organics had come from somewhere similar, in some other galaxy or universe, or God knew where. It wasn’t Harrington’s job to question where they came from—his job was simply to kill them.

The sub lurched forward. Besides the intermittent vibration in the walls and the random bump, there was virtually no other sense of motion. Microscopic flakes that looked like dust floated by the filthy porthole windows.

His stomach tightened. His lunch of mashed potatoes and salted pork had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he felt heavy. Not exactly the way he wanted to start a mission.

In an attempt to suppress the growing nausea he focused on compartmentalizing the task ahead. Without a solid briefing, he had no idea what they were going to face aboard the X-9. The thought terrified him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had absolutely no intel before embarking on a life-threatening mission. When he had been Diego’s age, he would have been shitting his pants.

You volunteered for this, Harrington reminded himself. He closed his eyes and focused on his family. He knew they were dead. He’d accepted this a week into the invasion. But his faith led him to believe that he would see his family again, probably sooner than later, in the afterlife. He wanted to make his family proud before he saw them again.

“Eight hundred fifty feet,” Irene said.

Diego nudged Harrington’s leg and gestured with his chin over to the porthole. The exterior lights had gone dark, and Irene had cut the interior LEDs to a single panel.

“Why are we going dark?” Diego asked.

“Must be getting close.”

Diego nodded and bowed his head.

Harrington had watched the solider turn into a man over the past five years. They’d lived and fought next to each other, and over time he’d shared his religious beliefs with the younger man. Watching him pray brought Harrington great satisfaction.

He turned away from the porthole and blinked his infrared on. His HUD fired up and the other soldiers’ heat signatures emerged on his display. Next he checked his night vision.

With his HUD working properly, he relaxed a bit. But the moment he let his guard down, the sound of emergency sirens startled him back to reality.

“Warning. Warning. Brace for impact,” Irene said.

“The X-9?” Diego asked.

Harrington grabbed for a handhold and tightened the harness around his armor. “Hold on!”

The sub jolted. There was a hollow thud and then a grinding sound as the bottom dragged along the ocean floor. A sickening crunch followed; the sub had collided with something, sending a violent tremor through the metal walls. Harrington tightened his grip on the grab bar and fought to stay upright. He spied a cloud of sediment churning outside the cockpit that looked like a small green tornado on his HUD.

He eyed the fist-sized bolts that secured the glass to the walls. They looked strong enough, but even a microscopic leak could turn Destiny 1 into a two-ton coffin.

“Irene, what the hell is going on?” Diego shouted over the com.

Several of the Chinese soldiers turned in Harrington’s direction. He held up a hand to calm them.

“My apologies, my system’s autopilot misjudged the descent. Preliminary scans are reporting limited damage,” Irene said.

“Limited damage?” Diego replied. His voice began to get louder. “You just crashed us one thousand feet below the surface!”

Harrington chinned his com pad and opened a private channel to Diego. “Get a fucking grip, and calm down. You’re not helping anything.”

Diego nodded and bowed his helmet toward the floor for a second time.

“Irene, how far are we from the X-9?” Harrington asked.

“Sir, you are still two clicks to the south. Please switch on your NVG if you haven’t already. You should be able to see the X-9 in T minus five minutes.” She repeated the request in Chinese.

“Did you pick up on that, Commander Le?” Harrington asked. He wasn’t sure if the slight nod from Le’s helmet was an acknowledgment, but the sergeant didn’t press the point.

The sub loped forward, and the sediment that had stirred around them vanished in a cloud of bubbles. Within seconds Harrington could hear the vibration of the motors somewhere beneath the tiny sub’s hull.

“T minus four minutes,” Irene said.

Squinting, Harrington scanned the green shapes of the ocean floor on his HUD. The terrain to their right looked rough, with hunks of rock protruding from the muddy surface. On their left they followed the trench Irene had described earlier. The channel, which looked to be about one hundred meters across, snaked away as far as he could see. It reminded him of a black river. The sight chilled Harrington, and he wondered what lived in the inky darkness below.

White noise crackled over the com and Irene said, “Two minutes. Visual imminent.”

Diego fidgeted. Harrington couldn’t blame the younger man for being nervous when his own heart was galloping. In an effort to calm his nerves, he mentally counted the seconds. This was a little trick his commanding officer had taught him years ago. And it usually worked.

Scanning the seafloor, he still didn’t see any sign of the X-9. Just the same slopes of uneven seabed.

Harrington kept counting, scrutinizing the ocean floor for any sign of human engineering.

“There,” Diego whispered, pointing.

The sergeant followed the man’s finger to a curved outline that formed a perfectly oval shape, much too perfect to be part of the seabed.

As the Destiny 1 puttered closer, the Chinese submarine came into view. The bow had disappeared deep into the muddy surface, but the body of the sub still looked to be fully intact. There were no visual cracks or exterior damage.

“My God,” Diego said in a hushed voice.

Before Harrington had a chance to reply, something smashed into the cockpit. The chirp of warning sirens and the intermittent flash of red lights spilled over the compartment. He swallowed hard and spied an object spinning away from the window.

“What the hell was that, Irene?” Harrington shouted.

“Scanning.”

Unbuckling his harness, Harrington crouch-walked to the front of the vessel. Blinking on his infrared vision, he scanned the darkness for any sign of life.

“Destiny 1 made contact with a—”

“We see it,” Harrington said, forcing his eyes away from the floating corpse of one of Captain Quan’s crew. He returned to his seat and took in long measured breaths, trying to maintain his composure.

“Xi,” one of the Chinese soldiers shouted from the front of the sub, pointing at a body floating by the nearest porthole. The man struggled with his harness, but Commander Le stopped him, restraining him with the help of another soldier.

From across the aisle Harrington could see more corpses floating by. There were dozens of them. He focused on one of them, noticing something odd. The bodies had been decomposing for a while. Most were missing eyeballs and chunks of flesh, but that didn’t explain their shriveled skin. They looked like something had sucked them dry. Fish weren’t the only creatures that had fed, the Organics had as well.

The sergeant shivered at the sight. The corpses were just sacks of skin now, their bones weighing them down as they drifted in the abyss.

“We’re in a fucking graveyard,” Diego blurted over the private channel. “GOA didn’t pick this up with its sensors?”

“They’re dead. All of them. Sensors pick up the living,” Harrington replied grimly.

A new voice crackled over the main speakers. It was Captain Noble.

“Commander Le. Is everyone okay down there?”

“Okay,” Le replied.

“Sir, there are bodies everywhere,” Harrington added.

“I’m watching a live feed. I’m well aware,” Noble said. “Sensors are still picking up heat signatures inside the X-9, so I am going to leave this one up to Commander Le. This is his mission.”

Harrington saw Diego fidget in his seat again, but held up his hand to silence him before he could object. The captain was right. And they had volunteered. The decision was not theirs to make.

Silence washed over the dark compartment as Le spoke to his men in Chinese. Harrington quickly gave up trying to make out what they were saying. He already knew what Le’s decision was.

A beat later and Irene was back online. But Harrington was hardly listening to her. Closing his eyes, he prepared himself for what was to come.

“Prepare to dock in T minus two minutes,” Irene ordered.

CHAPTER 3

DR. Emanuel Rodriguez ran a hand through two weeks’ worth of facial hair and watched Dr. Sophie Winston sleep. She’s been so tired, he thought.

“Alexia. How long has she been out?” he whispered.

The AI mimicked the volume of his voice. “Approximately twelve hours, Doctor. Would you like me to wake her?”

Emanuel waved his hands. “No, absolutely not.” Sophie began to stir. She awoke with one eye open, gripping her back with one hand.

“Oh my god,” she moaned. “I feel like . . . like I just got run over by a Humvee,” she said with one of her eyes still closed. “And . . .” A sudden alertness streaked across her face. Emanuel knew right away she had remembered something from one of her dreams.

“Sophie?” he asked.

She removed her hand from her back and placed it on her forehead, whispering, “They came for me again.”

“The Organics’ leaders?” Alexia asked.

Sophie nodded and lay her head back down on the pillow, letting her frustration out with a long sigh. “I’m never able to communicate with them.”

The AI console glowed a light blue, and Alexia’s face emerged. “Doctor Winston, the multidimensional aliens are likely so far advanced that they do not communicate in ways you would recognize.”

“I know,” Sophie said.

“Alexia, let’s give her a break. I’m going to go grab a coffee, Sophie. Do you want your usual?” He realized she was staring at him. His cheeks grew warm when it occurred to him she was scrutinizing his beard.

“Not a bad look,” she said, her face still stern.

“You didn’t notice it before?”

She shrugged and said, “Need coffee.”

Emanuel nodded and hurried to the mess hall. On his way he heard what sounded like an unsupervised field trip. Sure enough, when he walked into the hallway leading to Biome 4, he passed Dr. Brown and Corporal Bouma. Behind them ran three screaming children. Emanuel immediately brought a finger to his lips.

“Quiet, guys. Smith is still sleeping, and Sophie is not in a good mood.”

“Sorry,” Bouma replied. “We were just heading to Biome 1 so the kids could get some exercise.”

Emanuel scanned the group. After two months inside the Biosphere the kids were starting to grow. It dawned on him that they all needed haircuts. Especially Owen. His hair had started to creep down over his eyes.

“Have fun,” Emanuel said, patting the boy on his head. Owen laughed and took off running, ignoring the request the biologist had made moments before.

Emanuel continued to the kitchen, where half a pot of cold coffee sat on a stainless steel countertop. A dozen wrappers from prepackaged meals littered the area.

“Damn it,” he said, grabbing a handful and tossing them into the trash. Things had slowly slipped into chaos after Sophie’s injury in Colorado Springs. The Biosphere had gone from a well-oiled machine to a disaster zone.

He shook his head. After he got Sophie on her feet they were going to have a team meeting. A very frank one.

Two hours later, Emanuel had fed Sophie enough caffeine to get her into the CIC. The main oval display at the front of the room replayed hours of information the AI had filtered through. With the magnetic disturbance outside, most of the Biosphere’s exterior sensors were down. But the AI was much more resourceful than Emanuel had given her credit for. A few days earlier, she had discovered an NTC stealth satellite prototype named Lolo orbiting the planet. Lolo’s feeds proved that the Organics hadn’t knocked out all of Earth’s defenses after all. By hacking into the satellite, Alexia had provided the team with mountains of new data including current ocean levels, average temperatures from around the world, and estimated population counts.

But Emanuel was nervous. He still hadn’t figured out exactly how the satellite had managed to mitigate the effects of the magnetic disturbance, and the concern that Lolo would go offline was very real. Emanuel wanted to collect as much data as quickly as possible before that happened. For now, he was happy to have some reliable data from outside the Biosphere.

That didn’t mean he was excited to share it with Sophie, though. He’d spent the morning crunching the numbers while she slept. The data confirmed that the situation outside had never been worse.

“Feeling any better?” he asked as Sophie sat in one of the chairs facing the display.

“After water, coffee is the second most important resource left. I’m not sure what I’ll do when it runs out.”

Emanuel removed his glasses and cleared his throat. “Chances are we won’t be around long enough to see that happen.”

Sophie put her cup down. “You’ve analyzed the intel from Lolo, haven’t you?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes. “The Pacific Ocean has lost forty percent of its volume in the past two months, while the Atlantic has lost over sixty percent. There is virtually no sign of any fresh water,” he said. “Temperatures are skyrocketing worldwide. The planet is turning into a desert. If we don’t do something soon—”

She traced the outline of an explosion with her hands and then puffed her lips out. “Boom,” she said, exhaling a breath. Then she turned back to the display as if nothing had happened—as if she already knew everything Emanuel had just told her.

“This doesn’t bother you?”

Sophie looked past him, staring at the blank AI console in the corner of the room. Something about her had changed since the day they lost Sergeant Overton—the day she believed she had seen the Organics’ leaders inside the black ship. He knew it would only get worse. He was slowly losing her. She was fading right before his eyes.

“Sophie?” he asked, reaching out to touch her arm. She flinched and closed her eyes. Then she turned back to the main display.

“What do you make of this?” Sophie finally asked, pointing to a clump of numbers scrolling across the screen.

Emanuel put his glasses back on and leaned over for a better look. “Looks like some sort of encoded message.”

35084198106649246 33356308117410873

2794660982458366 4113709395892082

2566388250755238 115436431486

36651911140466001 494200007570000

Alexia’s voice blared over the com. “Doctor Winston, a preliminary scan reveals these are coordinates for the following locations in the United States: Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Camp Pendleton in California, MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida, and Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska. They are also coordinates from locations around the world including USN Bahrain, USN Camp Lemonnier Djibouti, MCB Camp Butler Okinawa, and Ramstein Air Base in Germany.”

“Do you think this might be some sort of SOS?” Emanuel asked.

“That’s very likely, Doctor. They all originate from military bases. However, their activation dates are all from the first day of the invasion. It’s likely that everyone at those bases is already dead.”

Emanuel shot Sophie an anxious look. He felt like pounding his fist against the table. Just when he had hope of finding more survivors, it was stripped away.

“One moment,” Alexia said suddenly. A second later her voice surged through the speakers. “After scanning the activation dates a second time, it’s come to my attention that one of them is actually quite recent.”

“How recent?” Emanuel and Sophie asked simultaneously. Neither of them laughed at the coincidence.

“Two days ago,” Alexia said. “At Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska.”

“I’ll be damned,” Emanuel replied. “You better get in touch with Captain Noble, Sophie.”

“That would be redundant,” Alexia said.

Sophie narrowed her eyebrows. “What? Why?”

“Captain Noble sent this data to me over the encrypted uplink earlier this morning.”

“I thought this was satellite data!” Emanuel said, his irritation with the AI growing by the second. “When were you going to tell us?”

“My apologies, Doctor. I’ve been primarily focused on another task this morning.”

“Something more important than this?” Sophie asked.

“That would depend on what you consider important. If you consider the life, health, and safety of the team important, then the answer is yes.”

Emanuel glared at the AI console. “Again, something you should have told us?”

“I was waiting for a full analysis and for Doctor Winston to awaken.”

Sophie took a long swig of coffee. “I’m awake,” she said. “And I’m waiting. So spill it.”

“I’m still piecing together all the intel, but take a look at this.”

The coordinates faded into darkness. Then several blurry images emerged.

“Magnifying,” Alexia said.

Emanuel removed his glasses and used his sleeve to wipe off a smear. He put them back on and straightened them, squinting at the monitor. At first glance the shot appeared to be of an arid region. But as Alexia magnified it, he saw clusters of buildings against the stark tan landscape, skyscrapers even.

Was it possible?

“This is Tokyo. One of the first areas hit by the invasion. As you can see, the city is surrounded by a desert,” Alexia said. “Next is New York.”

The Statue of Liberty emerged on the display. Alexia had zoomed in so that Emanuel could see dried clumps of seaweed and the corpses of rotting fish strewn across the seafloor. The polluted waters of Upper New York Bay no longer surrounded the green symbol of American freedom.

“Here is an image of the actual migration,” Alexia said.

A horde of blue aliens lit up the display. They moved across the cracked earth in one solid, roiling mass.

“Where is this?” Sophie asked.

“Upstate New York. The precise location is on the outskirts of a town called Hector. Preinvasion population 9,944.”

“That can’t be,” Emanuel replied. “Check again. That’s in the middle of a forest.”

“Doctor Rodriguez,” Alexia quickly said, “the satellite is one hundred percent accurate.”

“Check again,” he griped. He held a hand to his head, but knew the AI was right. He had to accept that things were now worse than he thought.

Alexia’s voice transferred to the com. “Satellite images show the Organics are migrating. On every continent, they’re moving toward the oceans. I’ve concluded the aliens are beginning to exhaust their resources on land and are now heading to the oceans to complete the last phase of the invasion.”

The end of the AI’s sentence struck Emanuel hard. He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He had known the end would come, but not this fast, and not like this. He’d had no time to prepare.

“How much time do we have before they reach the oceans?” he asked.

“A couple of weeks. Maybe a month. They don’t seem to rest. They just keep going.”

Emanuel felt his frustration bubble over. He slammed his hand down on the desk. “When Lolo picks up the GOA’s signal again, get us a line to Captain Noble.”

David and Jeff lay in the dirt of Biome 1, their stomachs full of fresh fruit and the few vegetables Jeff had demanded they eat. With their hands cupped behind their heads they gazed up at the white ceiling, listening to the hum of the air handling units.

Closing his eyes, Jeff relaxed and licked his lips. He let out a burp.

David chuckled. “Good one.”

Jeff glanced over at his brother. David’s features were strained, his cheeks puffing as he tried to mimic his brother’s action. His face grew red and finally he let out a defeated sigh. Resting his head back in the dirt, David grew silent.

“How did Sergeant Overton die?” David asked a few minutes later.

Jeff rolled to his side.

David glanced over, searching his brother’s face for an answer. “Did he die like Dad did?”

“Yes,” Jeff replied. “He died saving that marine, just like Dad saved us.”

“So he fought the aliens?”

“Lots of them. Hundreds.”

David let out a gasp of awe. “Wow.”

“Someday we’ll face them like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeff sat up and brushed the dirt off the back of his neck and out of his hair. “Look around you. This place won’t last forever. They’ve found us before, and they will find us again. All we can do now is train to fight like the marines do. It’s our only shot.”

David sat up and crossed his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest.

“David?” Jeff asked, reaching over to pat his brother’s back.

“I’m scared,” he said.

“I’m scared, too. But you trust me, right? I mean, we survived at White Sands. We made it here.”

David slowly nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” The promise was one that Jeff had made before and one he fully intended to keep. If it came down to it, he would give his life to save his brother’s.

Jeff eyed an apple that had fallen a few feet away. He grabbed it and tossed it into the air, catching it with a swift motion. “Still hungry?”

David nodded and then smiled. “How many apples do you think are left in the world?”

“In the entire world?” Jeff held the red fruit out in front of him, examining the shiny surface. Like most everything in the biome, the apple was fragile. It would never survive outside, and he was pretty sure there weren’t many trees left—maybe just the one behind them.

Jeff stood and tossed the apple in the air again. “This could be the last tree.”

David joined him. He stood on his tiptoes, reached for an apple dangling off one of the nearest branches, and missed. David let out a sigh on the third pass and looked to his brother.

Chuckling, Jeff handed him the apple in his right hand. He watched David’s teeth sink into the ripe fruit, the juices sliding down his chin. Then he passed it to Jeff for a bite.

They stood there under the canopy of branches, chewing on what very well could have been one of the last apples on the planet.

CHAPTER 4

THE sound of grinding metal echoed inside the mini sub. Harrington glanced through one of the side portholes and saw the smooth black surface of the X-9. The emergency lights dimmed, and complete darkness carpeted the interior of Destiny 1 as Irene steered them into position.

“Securing air lock,” Irene said against the background of hissing air.

Harrington rested his back against one of the titanium walls, unstrapped his pulse rifle, and waited for the all-clear from Irene.

“Air lock is open, proceed to the decompression chamber,” she said moments later.

With the help of one of his men, Commander Le twisted the circular lock on the hatch. The door cracked open with a loud pop.

Harrington leveled his gun at the doorway and waited to enter the bowels of the Chinese sub.

“Keep radio chatter to a minimum,” he said, raising a single finger to his helmet.

Le nodded and climbed through the open hatch. His men followed in turn. When Diego was on deck he looked to Harrington and gave him the bird.

The gesture put Harrington at ease for a moment. He chuckled, shook his head, and grabbed the handhold.

The rest of the team stood waiting, bottlenecked in a space only twelve feet in diameter. With little room to move, their armored suits clanged nosily against one another. If it weren’t for their night vision, the team would have been completely blind. Not exactly the ideal situation when entering potentially hostile territory over nine hundred feet beneath the ocean’s surface. Fortunately, NTC engineers had spent time perfecting the suit so it worked at all depths.

And thank God for that, he thought. The X-9’s subsequent compartments would likely be flooded. Irene would be able to determine that as they made their way from chamber to chamber in search of survivors.

A hiss of air broke through the opening in the next hatch. Le opened the door slowly and aimed his rifle through the gap. For several seconds the team crouched in silence, waiting. The intermittent creaks and groans from the metal hull echoed through space.

With a quick flash of his right hand Le ordered the men forward. They entered the submarine in single file, motions smooth and calculated despite the bulkiness of their suits.

Harrington swept his rifle across the hallway of the sub’s outdated interior. Metal pipes lined the ceiling, their paint chipped and faded. Large control panels with oversize buttons protruded from the walls around them. Compared to the GOA, the X-9 looked ancient.

When they came up on the first bulkhead Harrington saw they would need to split up. The hallway curved into two separate corridors.

Le was thinking the same thing. After checking the passages he divided the group into strike teams with a few quick hand signals. Harrington led Diego and one of the Chinese soldiers to the hallway on the left.

Within seconds the footfalls of Le’s men faded away.

Approaching the next bulkhead, Harrington shouldered his rifle and took in a measured breath. Around the corner he saw the first signs of struggle.

Large holes peppered the ceiling. Harrington balled his hand into a fist and stopped abruptly. Slinging his rifle behind his back, he examined what appeared to be bullet holes from a high-caliber pulse gun.

He took a step to his right directly under one of them. A gooey substance dripped from the ceiling. He flinched when a drop fell on his visor.

“What the hell?” He wiped off the glass with a quick swipe. “Turn off your NVG,” he ordered.

Setting his helmet light to low, he examined the substance.

“Blood?” Diego asked.

Harrington bowed his head and shined the light directly onto his gloved hand. He fanned out his fingers, revealing cobwebs of blue goo.

“Yeah,” Harrington replied. “But not human.”

“So where are all the bodies?” Diego asked.

Harrington shook his head and in a mild voice whispered, “I don’t know.”

They continued down the hall. Several more clusters of bullet holes pockmarked the walls and ceilings. The deeper they ventured, the more his hope began to slip away.

A steel door sealed off the next bulkhead. He stopped and shone his light up and down the door, revealing red smears across the surface.

With no sign of bodies, he knew that whoever had fired off the pulse rounds had likely closed the door in a last-ditch effort.

He blinked on his infrared and scanned the corridor.

Holy fuck!

“You getting this, Diego?”

Harrington heard the clank of an armored hand hitting his shoulder, but he didn’t balk. He stared at the steel door, watching the red heat signatures on the other side dance across his display.

“Human?” Diego asked.

The sergeant didn’t reply. He didn’t have an answer. The outlines looked human, but how the hell was he supposed to know? Whatever they were, they were stuck in the corridor beyond.

Chinning the com link inside his helmet, Harrington opened a line to the team and said, “Commander Le, do you read? Over.”

White noised filled the net.

“Commander Le, report. Over.” Harrington repeated.

More static. Was it possible that the thick steel walls were interfering with their connection? Harrington had a hard time believing it. The radios were designed to work under just such circumstances.

“Shit,” he muttered. He chinned the com again, this time opening a direct link to the GOA. “Captain Noble, do you copy?”

“Roger, go ahead,” Noble replied.

“Sir, we have lost contact with Commander Le, and have spotted contacts on the other side of a bulkhead at”—he paused to read the marking above the door and snorted when he saw a Chinese label—“Not sure where we’re at, actually. Please advise. Over.”

“Can you confirm there are human survivors?”

“Negative, sir.”

Another brief pause filled the net with crackling static. For a second Harrington thought he had lost his connection to the GOA, but Noble’s voice quickly reemerged. “Priority is given—”

An abrupt, deep hammering from the other side of the steel door vibrated through the walls. Harrington stumbled backward into Diego, nearly knocking the man to the floor. They froze, listening in horror.

“Report, Sergeant,” Noble said. “What the hell was that sound?”

“Sir, whatever is on the other side of that door is not—” Before he could finish his thought another blast hit the door, sending a tremor down the entire passage.

Harrington retreated several more steps and raised his pulse rifle to the door. Three heat signatures had clustered behind the bulkhead and now he could see their shapes clearly. They were snakelike, with no signs of arms or legs.

Someone from the X-9 had trapped the creatures in the corridor, but they wouldn’t stay there for long. They smashed against the door again. It was only a matter of time before they tore the steel apart. Harrington eyed several deep dents already showing through the metal where the aliens had rammed it.

“Move!” he yelled, finally snapping into action. He pushed Diego after the Chinese soldier, who was already running.

He flinched at the distant crackle of gunfire. His earpiece came to life with the muffled voices of Le’s men.

No longer worried about stealth, Harrington rounded the first hallway, nearly crashing into the wall. They were halfway back to the air lock in less than a minute. Behind him he could make out the distant hammering of the trapped aliens as they worked desperately to get out.

“Commander Le, goddamnit, do you read?” Harrington yelled. Cursing, he tried to ignore the sounds. Between the gunfire and the screams he could hardly think, let alone decipher any of the voices coming over the net.

When he reached the end of the hallway he finally made out two of the words.

“Destiny 1.”

That’s where Le was heading.

The feed cut out as they rounded the next corner. Metal crunched in the passage behind them as the aliens finally broke through the steel door. A loud thud reverberated through the vessel as the bulkhead hit the floor.

Harrington didn’t dare risk a glance over his shoulder. Even with a head start, he knew they had only seconds to get back to the air lock. Bowing his head, he ran as hard as he could, passing both Diego and the Chinese soldier.

When he glanced up, the air lock was in view. His heart climbed to his throat when he saw three of the men lying outside the entrance. Blinking off his NVGs he narrowed his eyes and saw Le’s team struggling beneath the weight of the aliens pinning them down.

His heart rate skyrocketed as the snakelike aliens came into focus. Their bioluminescent bodies yielded just enough light for Harrington to make out the Organics perfectly. The one closest to him was curled into an S shape, with the tail of its elongated body wrapped around the armored legs of one of Le’s men. As it unwound itself, its midsection opened, revealing a cavity filled with jagged black teeth. In one swift motion the creature’s torso expanded and clamped down on the soldier.

Blood exploded into the air, a red mist peppering the hallway like spray paint.

“My god,” Harrington whispered. He slowed to a stop, nearly tripping over his boots, raised his rifle, and fired off a volley of shots at the monsters.

He moved methodically, squeezing off a three-round burst into the thickest portion of the closest alien. The creature disappeared into a cloud of blue goo. Their shields were down. “Open fire,” he yelled. He pulled down on the trigger again and watched the next snakelike creature explode.

The last alien let out a high-pitched shriek right before Diego turned it into a blue smoothie, but there was no time to celebrate. Behind them the screeches were growing louder.

They’re getting closer.

Harrington twisted to see five of the creatures slither around the last corner. They shot down the corridor. He hesitated for a second, studying their faces, or the part of their body he assumed was a face. They had no eyes, no nose, only a hole in their stomach that released horrifying sounds.

He fired off the rest of his magazine into the center of the pack. But these aliens didn’t explode like the others.

Harrington froze.

“They have shields!” Diego yelled.

Harrington shoved both men toward the air lock. “Run,” he shouted. They moved in unison, turning every few seconds to fire off a few more shots at the monsters hunting them.

At the air lock one of the injured soldiers began to move. Harrington crouched down and grabbed him under one arm, exchanging looks with the man. Le stared back at him, his eyes wide with fear. Harrington helped him into the air lock. At least a dozen other Chinese crew members had crowded into the air lock, their faces drenched with sweat and covered in grime.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he finally yelled. “Get into the mini sub!” But they all stared back at him like he was speaking a foreign language. And then he realized that he was.

Commander Le let out a groan and started yelling something in Chinese at one of the X-9 survivors.

Gunfire snapped Harrington back into motion. He maneuvered back into the hallway where Diego and the remaining Chinese soldier continued shooting at the aliens that were closing in. One of them sank its claws into the ceiling and slithered across it.

Diego fired off another flurry of shots, but the creatures zigzagged around them. Harrington concentrated on the beast racing toward him on the ceiling. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at. He had always thought of aliens as little green men with big oval eyes, but these things were fucking monstrosities.

More of the serpentlike aliens lunged forward, their bodies coiling and twisting for momentum. One of them wrapped around the soldier next to Diego.

Harrington reached out for the man, their fingers touching before the creature pulled him back around a corner, out of reach of gunfire. The sound of his screams faded against the crack of Diego’s rifle.

“Get into the pressure chamber; I’ll cover you,” Harrington yelled. “We don’t have much time. Hurry!”

Diego nodded, finished off the last of his magazine, and climbed into the compartment. Harrington walked backward, reaching above him and grabbing one of the handles. By the time they were inside, the rest of the crew had already boarded Destiny 1. Le was waiting at the hatch, waving his hands at the men.

“Move!” he yelled.

Harrington went to seal the hatch to the X-9 when one of the snakes jammed half its body through the opening with a cry, knocking his rifle away. He slammed the hatch against the slithering alien.

“Get out of here, Diego!” he yelled, holding the creature back with all his strength. The monster squirmed and pressed harder, pushing Harrington backward. He knew he could only hold it a few more seconds.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Diego climb into Destiny 1.

“Come on,” Diego yelled.

Harrington grunted, putting all his weight against the door. He caught a glimpse of the frightened crew through the porthole windows of the minisub; their looks filled him with strength. He knew if he let go of the hatch, the snakes would have a free boarding pass onto Destiny 1.

He thought of his code.

Always do the right thing.

He was ready to die—ready to join his family.

“Go!” he yelled. “Close the hatch.”

“No, Sergeant!” Diego screamed, reaching out for him.

Taking in a measured breath, Harrington slammed his shoulder into the hatch, stunning the alien for a moment. It screamed, the hole in its stomach widening in anger. Then he scrambled across the floor of the pressure chamber to the mini sub and slammed the hatch shut in Diego’s face, locking it with one swift motion.

Harrington bumped his com as he turned back to see the alien poised above him, its bioluminescent skin casting a blue glow over the air lock.

“Irene, get them out of here. That’s an order,” he said, as the creature’s body shot forward and wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and pictured his family. It was the last thing Sergeant Harrington would ever see.

CHAPTER 5

HOURS had passed since the X-9 had been destroyed, but the phantom sound of explosions drowned Noble’s mind in dread. He could still see the missiles racing from the GOA and hitting the smooth black surface of the Chinese sub on the main display. He could still feel the tremors of their impact. Somewhere out there, Harrington’s and Lin’s remains were floating in the depths.

What a horrible way to die, he thought. Noble scanned the room for his XO. “Richards, send Diego to the bridge ASAP,” he yelled.

“Aye aye, Captain,” the man replied.

Noble bowed his head. He ran his finger across his name and rank, stitched into the leather of his chair. But as he sat down, he did not feel much like a captain. He’d sent Harrington to his death, and he’d lost many other men in Colorado Springs.

“Captain, reporting for duty, sir,” a voice said from behind him.

Folding his arms, Noble spun his chair to see Diego standing at the entrance to the command center. “At ease, son.”

With a sigh, the new lead of the Special Forces team strode across the platform and made his way down several stairs to the bridge.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Diego asked.

Noble regarded the man with a reassuring nod. “Sergeant Harrington was a good man. He spoke very highly of you.”

“Thank you, sir. He was the best mentor I could have had.”

“We will have a brief ceremony for him and the others at nineteen hundred hours.”

The slightest of nods from Diego told Noble that the man had seen something awful inside the X-9.

“When you’re up to it, I’d like a briefing on what you encountered down there. Anything that you think might help us in the war.”

Diego looked very unsure of himself. His brown eyes swayed to the right and then down to his feet. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood straighter. “I’m ready now, sir.”

Noble leaned back in his chair to observe the man. He was short, but made up for his size with wide shoulders and thick arms. His face was covered in scruff that could hardly be considered a beard. Diego was loyal, intelligent, and graceful both on and off the battlefield.

The soldier tensed his jaw and narrowed his brown eyes when he noticed he was being scrutinized.

Diego broke the silence with a measured voice. “Those things were everywhere. I’ve never seen anything like them, sir. They had a snake’s body, but no face. At least, not like any face I’ve seen. They move quickly, slithering and then wrapping their bodies around their prey. When they feed they split down the middle,” he said, pausing. “That’s the most awful part. Their chest cavity, or whatever you want to call it. It’s filled with hundreds of teeth.”

“So those things can live in and outside the water?”

“As far as I can tell, sir.”

“Did they have shields?”

Diego’s features darkened. “Only when they weren’t feeding.”

“That’s interesting,” Noble said. He habitually ran his finger along his jawline, pausing when he remembered he’d shaved his beard. “The Biosphere team at Cheyenne Mountain reported the same thing with the Spider species. Their shields power down when they feed.”

Diego shrugged.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything that might be useful?”

Diego looked deep in thought. He finally shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir.”

Noble unfolded his arms and stood. “Thank you,” he said, patting the man on his shoulder. “You’re one courageous bastard, volunteering for that mission.”

“Thank you, sir. I just . . .” His shoulders sagged a bit when he said, “I wish Harrington had made it out. He gave his life to save ours.”

Noble looked at the soldier thoughtfully, again recalling what his father had said about the end of the world. Harrington, like Overton, was a man who made the ultimate sacrifice in the face of adversity. There were still men and women out there who would do the same. But with every passing second, the Organics drew closer to wiping out the human race.

There weren’t many heroes left to stand in their path.

A stern voice resonated from the top of the bridge. Noble swiveled his chair to see Richards looking down from his station. “Captain Noble. We have an incoming message over Lolo’s channel. It’s from Cheyenne Mountain, sir.”

“Patch them through.”

A fuzzy image of Dr. Sophie Winston and Dr. Rodriguez appeared on the screen. And they both looked very frightened.

Sophie waited for the feed to reconnect with the GOA. They’d lost the uplink seconds after their first attempt. Lolo had probably passed over a dark zone.

While she waited, she scrolled through a database of pictures. The images from Lolo were terrible, but fascinating.

A swarm of black ships straddled the Earth in low orbit. The image was surreal, like concept art from some science fiction novel. Streaks of ocean water shot up toward the vessels, forming a solid wall, as the alien ships moved over the Pacific.

It was the first time anyone, as far as she knew, had actually seen the Organics in orbit. And the first time anyone had seen them removing water from the oceans.

With a swift flick of her index finger Sophie swiped to the next image. An army of Spiders marched across the cracked earth, trampling one another in a twisted heap of blue limbs. The picture only added to her confusion. Days earlier, when she’d been taken aboard the alien ship, she’d seen hundreds of different life-forms. It was some sort of ark, or maybe an alien museum. Whatever it was, it was driving her mad with questions.

Why would the aliens travel through the universe to collect water, destroying all life in the process, only to keep an ark full of alien life-forms? And why would they show it to her?

Sophie shook her head just as footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the CIC. She was happy to have the distraction.

“We connected yet?” Emanuel asked, nudging her arm. He brought a steaming cup of coffee to his lips and took a short sip. “Holy shit! Is that what I think it is?”

She’d reverted back to the first image, preparing to send the shot and the data to the GOA.

Nodding, Sophie leaned back so Emanuel could get a better view.

White noise from the speakers crackled as the main screen flickered and Noble’s face filled the grainy display.

“Good afternoon,” he said as the screen solidified.

“Not here it isn’t,” Sophie replied. “We just received some very disturbing images from Lolo. Forwarding to you . . .” She punched the Enter key and said, “now.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said grimly. “We are running out of time.”

She sent him the next one.

“The Organics,” she said. “They’re moving. Abandoning the cities and the human farms. They’re headed for the coasts.”

“Why?” Noble asked. He folded his hands and narrowed his eyebrows.

“Alexia thinks this is the last phase of the invasion, but we aren’t entirely sure.”

“That doesn’t make much sense. Why would they be migrating?” Noble asked.

Emanuel shrugged. “We don’t know.”

Noble frowned. “How long do we have?”

“Maybe a couple weeks or a month, tops. We need a plan,” she said.

Folding his arms, Noble’s features tensed. “That’s why I’m glad we connected. I’ve been working on a plan that I want to run by you.”

Sophie responded with her own skeptically arched brow. “You have our attention.”

“My engineers are currently working on modifying the RVAMP into something more effective. Something that can be used on a grander scale.”

“Something that could knock out the surge entirely?” Emanuel asked.

Noble tilted his head in confusion.

“Sorry, Captain. The surge is what we are calling the electromagnetic disturbance outside. The pulse seems to be coming from Mars,” Sophie said, pausing. “Actually, we know it is, but that’s beside the point. Sergeant Overton mentioned we might be able to stop it if we set nukes or EMPs off in the atmosphere. That’s where Emanuel got the idea to build the RVAMP. We managed to kill a whole bunch of them with it in Colorado Springs when we took down those human farms. But more kept coming.”

Noble looked at his desk for a moment to consider the thought. “Yeah, nukes and traditional EMPs wouldn’t work,” he replied. “While that would likely knock out some of their ships, we can’t defeat them that way. We need something that will work on a worldwide level. The problem is finding a delivery system.”

Sophie eyed the man. The captain had proven to be a useful ally so far, a man with conviction and vision. But the Organics weren’t an enemy that NTC was used to fighting. They were an empire of advanced creatures. She wasn’t certain that even Captain Noble could come up with something to defeat them. “Do you have anything in mind?” she finally asked.

Noble cracked a half grin. “Sure. But the real question is, will it work?”

Sophie wasn’t amused.

“What’s your idea, Captain?” Emanuel asked.

“With a few small teams, I think we could sneak onto several military bases, commandeer a fleet of jets and drones, and equip them with the modified RVAMP weapons. Then coordinate an offensive.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sophie said.

“No, Doctor Winston, I’m not,” he said sternly. “Unless you know of a ship that can get us to Mars, where we could shut off this phantom ‘surge,’ ” he said mockingly, using two fingers to trace quotation marks in the air, “I see no other option.”

“Even if that was possible, we would never arrive in time to save the planet,” Emanuel pointed out.

Sophie didn’t like Noble’s tone, but the man was right. They didn’t have many options. The captain’s plan was a long shot, sure, but heading to Mars sounded even crazier. There was no easy solution. No way to save the planet without taking great risks and making even harder sacrifices—sacrifices like the one Sergeant Overton had made back in Colorado Springs.

“So the plan is to sneak past the Organics’ defenses and launch a strike across the world? Do you even have that many pilots at your disposal, Captain?” Sophie asked.

He smiled, clearly noticing her emphasis on his rank. “We will have to make do with the resources available. We would primarily be using drones. Only a handful of low-orbit jets will be needed.”

Sophie crossed her arms and glanced over at Emanuel. He looked optimistic, his eyebrows forming wide arches above the rims of his glasses.

“And if there are survivors at any of the coordinates I sent you earlier this morning, then perhaps we will have even more resources.”

“I’d be hard-pressed to believe anyone has made it this long,” Emanuel said.

Noble nodded. “I agree. The likelihood of other survivors is slim, but worth checking out.”

Sophie heard laughter from the hallway and turned just in time to see Owen race by, with Jamie close on his heels. Against all odds, the two children had survived outside.

“Our AI did confirm that the distress signal from Offutt had been activated very recently. Maybe someone has managed a miracle and avoided detection,” Emanuel said.

“Nothing gets past Alexia,” Sophie smiled. It was an odd sensation, her lips forming something other than a frown. She was starting to feel a bit better knowing they were building a plan, even if it did sound irrational.

“So what’s the next step?” Emanuel asked.

Noble cupped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

“I’d suggest sending a drone to Offutt to see what’s there. The sooner we know, the sooner we can develop a plan, and if by some grace of God there are survivors, then perhaps they will join us.”

“How fast can you get a drone into the field?” Sophie asked.

“Richards,” Noble shouted, craning his head.

“Sir?” a voice said in the background.

“Send a message to Engineering. I want a drone prepped and ready to fly ASAP.” When he turned back to the feed, there was something about his face that bothered Sophie. The man she had met at Cheyenne Mountain was a fearless leader; a man, like Overton, who radiated confidence. That man was no longer in front of her. Noble seemed solemn and tired.

Broken.

“I didn’t want to give you bad news,” Noble finally said. He returned his hands to the table and hunched over his desk. Creases broke across his forehead. “We found the Chinese sub. A rescue mission was able to save some of her crew, but in the end I ordered the X-9 destroyed. Sergeant Harrington, whom you met while we repaired the Sea Serpent at the Biosphere, was killed in the mission.”

The news did not shock Sophie as much as she thought it would. While she knew that losing another weapon of war was not to be taken lightly, she also knew that death was now a routine part of life. Having hope was dangerous when all could be lost in the blink of an eye.

Sophie exchanged looks with Emanuel. Gray speckled his slicked-back hair, and a thick beard covered his dimples. He looked as if he had aged years in the last two months. She’d purposely avoided mirrors for the same reason. Her body felt weak, and her clothes no longer hugged her curves; instead, they hung loosely off her body. They’d been stranded for quite a while now, cut off from the rest of the dying world. But the worst of it? She didn’t just feel trapped by the Biosphere walls, she felt trapped inside her own mind.

“Doctor Winston,” came a voice. It sounded distant, far away. There was a humming, like wasps.

Someone called her name again. Sophie blinked hard, the echoing in her ears faded, and she turned to see Emanuel hovering over her. He reached out and placed a hand on her right wrist. Her skin tingled at his touch. She realized then that he hadn’t touched her since Overton had caught them in the CIC weeks earlier.

He squeezed harder, but she felt only a cold numbness.

“Sophie,” he said. “Snap out of it.”

She nodded and swept her eyes over the monitors, her eyes glazed and blurry. In a monotone voice she said, “Let’s plan on talking again in forty-eight hours. That should give you enough time to send a drone to Offutt and analyze any intel. In the meantime, we will continue to use Lolo for reconnaissance and inform you of any developments.”

“Sounds good, Doctor. Stay safe,” Noble replied.

“You too,” she said, swiping the feed off with her index finger. As soon as she stood a wave of dizziness hit her. She swayed to the left and then the right.

Emanuel reached out to balance her. “What’s going on with you?”

The sensation passed, and Sophie’s world returned to normal. “I’m fine.”

“No. You seem really off.”

Sophie put a hand on her head. She had so much to do, and she hadn’t put a dent in the data Lolo had sent.

“Hey, you there?” Emanuel asked, waving his hands. “Sophie, what is going on with you?” His voice was calm but guarded.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tired.” For a moment she locked eyes with him and felt a sensation that she’d long buried. The emotion soon vanished, stripped away by the thousands of worries clamoring for attention in her mind.

“Where is the old Sophie?” he asked with a frown.

She looked away. She knew the answer deep down, but she couldn’t let Emanuel know—the old Sophie had died inside that black ship.

Corporal Bouma stood two full heads taller than Jeff, but every morning the boy seemed to be closing the gap. It was possible, considering the vegetables and fruits harvested from Biome 1 were better than anything the kid would have been eating on the outside even before the invasion. Over the past decade food production had become so automated that it was all full of God knew what. Only those wealthy enough could afford the small organic supply. None of that mattered anymore. The only farms that remained were human farms.

He steadied his rifle and took aim at a black target on the opposite wall, the anger boiling inside him at the thought of humans being harvested just outside these walls. In quick succession, he fired off three shots. The deafening crack of the old rifle echoed through the chamber. The gun was louder and more powerful than he had thought.

“Damn. Nice shot,” Jeff said.

He’d hit the middle of the target in two places, while the third shot had torn into the wall above.

“Give me that thing,” Kiel shouted. He propped one of his crutches against the wall and reached for the gun.

Bouma glared at the other marine. “Wait your turn. Jeff’s next.” With a smile, he handed the rifle to the eleven-year-old. “See if you can beat that,” he whispered as the boy grabbed the gun.

“I want a turn, too!” David whined.

Bouma laughed. He’d promised Sophie that he wouldn’t train the other kids. They weren’t that desperate, she had said. David was to be on harvest duty, not soldier duty.

“If you promise not to tell,” Bouma started to say when he heard Holly’s voice behind them.

“I heard that,” she said in a mischievous tone.

He felt his face grow red and turned to see her carrying a basket full of fruit. She’d pulled her hair, still glistening from the shower, into a ponytail.

Flashing her a smile he walked over to help her with her load. “Sorry.”

Holly held the basket defiantly to her chest. “Um, I have a bone to pick with you, Corporal,” she said sternly. Then she glared at Kiel. “And you. Why aren’t you resting? Your body needs to heal.”

Bouma threw his arms up in protest, but cowered when she shoved the basket into his chest. “I thought Sophie said David isn’t supposed to be using that gun. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s allowing target practice inside the Biosphere in the first place.”

“Where else are we supposed to train?” Jeff asked. He held the muzzle of the gun toward the ground.

“I don’t know why you need to train at all,” Holly said, her hands now on her hips. “The noise that thing makes is maddening.”

Bouma took a step forward. “I have this under control.”

With a half smile she reached out to him. “Sure you do.”

Bouma nodded and then gestured with his chin toward the exit. “Want to take a walk?”

“Yup.”

“Take five, guys,” he said.

David groaned, and Jeff rested the rifle against the makeshift table. Kiel pulled out an apple and tossed it to David. “Know how to play catch, kid?”

Placing his hand on Holly’s back, Bouma guided her down the narrow path leading through the crops. They walked in silence, taking in the lush scent.

When they reached Biome 2, he paused and waited for the glass doors to seal behind them. Before Holly had a chance to react, he reached over and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You needed that,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded, her cheeks ripe with blush. “Yes.”

Intertwining his fingers with hers, Bouma turned toward the pond. The water sparkled under the faint LEDs. For a moment he stared into it, watching their reflection flicker with the light. “You don’t seem okay,” he said.

“I am, but I don’t think Sophie is doing well. I overheard her and Emanuel talking with Captain Noble. Sounds like they found the Chinese sub and were forced to destroy it.”

Bouma looked at the ground. “Damn. Any survivors?”

She shook her head. “You’ll have to ask Sophie. I only heard a small bit of the conversation.”

He nodded and took her other hand. The thought of more death was numbing. He wanted to feel.

Without thinking, he kissed her.

She let out a small cry of surprise and then leaned into him. Apparently, Holly desired the same thing he did.

They locked eyes.

“Shhhh,” he said.

“I can be quiet.”

Bouma tightened his grip and whispered in her ear, “I have a secret.”

“Me too,” she said, exhaling a deep breath. “I’m falling for you.”

The quick response took him by surprise, and he tilted his head back to look her in the eyes. Everyone he’d ever cared for had died during the invasion. But somehow he’d found it in the midst of the apocalypse.

Love.

The revelation sent a chill through his body. It was something he would do anything to defend. He would guard Holly, the kids, and the team with his life. The same feeling also filled him with a sense of guilt. Why should he be happy? What did he do to deserve it? His gut sank at the thought, but he held Holly firmly in his arms.

“I love you,” he said with authority. “You don’t have anything to worry about anymore, Holly. I will protect you.”

CHAPTER 6

ENTRY 4001

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

Three days, one hour, forty-five minutes, and thirteen seconds have passed since Captain Noble and his team left the Biosphere. My latest scan shows the team’s survival probability is at 9.5 percent, a slight increase from before we made contact with the NTC submarine, Ghost of Atlantis.

The discovery of other survivors, especially Captain Noble’s well-equipped crew, has definitely had an effect on team morale here at the Biosphere. I wasn’t programmed to feel optimism, but I do believe I’ve evolved to feel something similar.

Hope conflicts with my programming. The statistics continuously paint a bleak future, and yet virtually every time they’ve turned out to be wrong. What the countless scans don’t illustrate is a trait ingrained in the DNA of the human species.

Resilience.

Over the past two months, Dr. Winston and her team have faced very tough decisions, life-and-death decisions. Despite the odds, they have never given up, and with my assistance they have beat those odds so far. They are survivors.

It’s interesting, I suppose, considering that throughout their history they have killed one another over land and resources. Like the Organics, they are a destructive species. I’ve read essays that refer to humans as a virus, a plague that’s consumed the world.

I’ve never believed that theory, but I do see the parallel. And now the largest-ever threat to their species has borne an alliance between two bitter enemies. The Chinese and NTC have united their survivors under a single cause.

I record the development and log the entry under “Group Behavior.” I’ll come back to the case study later, but first there are more pressing issues I need to attend to.

Lieutenant Allison Smith still hasn’t recovered from her captivity. There are multiple questions I hope to answer through a series of tests. Primarily, how did the Organics keep her alive, and how did they filter water from her body?

I’ve started to formulate a theory that connects everything to the surge—the human farms, the orbs, and the alien defenses. I believe they are all somehow connected to the electromagnetic disturbance originating on Mars. Before we discovered Lolo, we thought the surge was a constant signal. But the satellite’s data now shows the surge comes in two-hour intervals. The wave of energy transmitted from the surface of Mars hits the side of the Earth facing the Red Planet and is then distributed across the Earth. How the energy is sustained and transmitted in that interval is still a mystery to me.

Something has to be sustaining the current. Just like something has to support Lieutenant Smith and the other human prisoners. Just like something must be sustaining the alien shields.

After several scans I’ve made a discovery that may help answer some of these questions. I’ve found Lieutenant Smith’s blood samples contain the same nanobots that Dr. Rodriguez found in the Spider specimen he dissected weeks ago.

Using an electrical-based catalyst, I stimulated the nanobots. They instantly absorbed the energy and began to multiply. At first glance, the results indicate that the bots are trying to connect to an outside source.

The implications are interesting. I conclude the active RVM generator is preventing the nanotechnology from connecting to the surge.

I finally have a theory. The Organics are using the surge to carry an electromagnetic wave that serves a variety of functions. First, it powers the aliens’ defenses. Second, it sustains the human farms and the orbs.

During the invasion there were reports around the world of the sky turning turquoise. By analyzing the timing of these reports, we can deduce that as the Earth rotated, exposing its face to Mars, the Organics used the surge to begin removing much of the planet’s surface water.

I’m still not sure exactly how the aliens are able to filter water, whether from the surface or from humans. And I’m also not sure why Lieutenant Smith isn’t recovering. Without a solid answer, I have decided that it’s time to consult with Dr. Winston and Dr. Rodriguez. This time, I need their help just as much as they need mine.

The glow from the sun cut a halo between the mesosphere and stratosphere. Lolo shot by in low Earth orbit. She moved away from the light, about to cross over the darkness blanketing Asia a hundred miles below. The satellite transmitted thousands of images a second, far too many for Emanuel to sift through. Squeezing his fingers together every minute or so, he would freeze the display in front of him. He watched in silence, observing in awe.

Darkness finally consumed Lolo and she slipped into the night, relaying only grainy pictures of abandoned cities. Months ago, their artificial lights would have sparkled like the stars in the sky, but the once-great metropolises of man were now dark graveyards.

Emanuel’s stomach growled as he shut the feed off. He hadn’t eaten all day. Before he could take a break, he needed to check something. Earlier, he and Sophie had told Captain Noble that the Organics were heading for the coasts, that they were leaving the cities and human farms. When he thought about it further, that didn’t make much sense. The farms were sustaining the armies. Why would they leave them and head for the oceans? Historically, migrations always occurred when a species either used up all the resources of an area or the climate was too extreme for them to survive. Neither situation applied to the Organics. With their shields, climate shouldn’t matter, and with the farms they had plenty of resources.

So why were they moving? Emanuel felt puzzled. Sure, the species was alien. Darwinism didn’t necessarily apply to them. But there had to be a reason they were moving that he didn’t yet understand. Lost in thought, he flinched when a voice echoed from the hallway.

“Dr. Rodriguez?”

Emanuel spun his chair and saw Jeff standing in the doorway of the command center with David at his side.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” he said, his best attempt to sound calm. Jeff eyed him suspiciously.

“We have a question,” the boy said.

David stepped in front of his brother and in a very matter-of-fact tone said, “About the aliens.”

Emanuel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Sure, what do you want to know?”

“For one, why did they come? And when are they going to leave?” David asked quickly.

Jeff pinched his brother’s arm. “I told you to just listen.”

David glared angrily. “But I want to ask questions, too!”

Emanuel waved his hands to get their attention. “It’s okay. I’ll answer all your questions.” With the two boys staring at him, Emanuel suddenly felt an awkward pressure. He’d spent his career making presentations in front of other scientists, but put him in front of two kids and he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead,” Jeff said, seeing his brother looking sheepishly at the ground.

“Sir,” David said with a slight pause, his eyes jumping to the ceiling as he thought about what he wanted to ask. When he looked back at Emanuel, he seemed very serious. “Why did the aliens kill our dad?”

Emanuel frowned. He was expecting science questions, and wasn’t prepared to answer this one. Stumbling for words, he hesitated.

With a sigh Emanuel waved the boys over and gestured toward a pair of chairs. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.” The boys each took a seat. David began to spin his chair until Jeff grabbed the armrest and glared at him.

“Stop,” he said. Then he looked over at Emanuel and said, “Well?”

The screen behind the boys flickered, shifting to a new image Lolo had transmitted earlier that morning. Emanuel had set the blue screen to automatically filter through the pictures he wanted to send to Captain Noble. This one depicted the migration. A swollen mass of Spiders moved across what had once been lush Iowa farmland, and their shields reflected the sun overhead. Among the tangled alien shapes he could see the humped backs of the gigantic Worms, protruding like the whitecaps of waves in a storm.

“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 the 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?

He was excited to find out. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he enjoyed learning. At times he even missed school. But mostly he missed his friends.

“Jeff,” a soft voice said.

He looked over and saw the outline of David’s body in the darkness. His brother sat up and was looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” Jeff whispered. He didn’t want to wake Kiel or Bouma, who were camped out on the floor between them.

“I can’t sleep,” David said. He swung his legs over the bed and put his feet on the floor. “Can I come over there?”

“No, get back in bed,” Jeff hissed.

One of the blankets moved and Bouma let out a groan before he turned onto his side.

David stood and jumped over the two men, first one, then the other. “I keep having nightmares.” He climbed into bed next to Jeff, pushing him softly.

“Damn it, David. You’re six years old.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He paused and then said, “I really miss Dad.”

Jeff clenched his jaw. “I do too, bud.”

“Do you think he’s somewhere safe?”

“I think he’s with Mom.”

“You mean our real mom, right?”

“Yes, David.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning Jeff strolled into an empty Biome 1, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and listening to the tranquil sound of the irrigation system as it watered the crops. The chamber, humid and clammy, reminded him of the NTC botanical center that Paula, their stepmom, had taken them to for a birthday party a few years ago.

Strolling to the edge of the platform, he reached out and let the mist rain down on him. The cool water felt good on his skin, and for a second Jeff felt completely relaxed.

When the poles finally clicked off, he jumped off the metal platform onto the moist dirt. His shoes sank in with a squishy plop. He wove through a row of tangled cucumber vines snaking across the soggy topsoil.

“’Sup, squirt,” came a voice from behind him.

Jeff frowned. He didn’t like being called “squirt,” especially by a man not much taller than him. Spinning, he glared at Kiel. The marine stood on the platform above him. Jeff laughed.

“What?” Kiel asked.

“You look . . .” Jeff paused and shook his head.

“What, kid?”

“You look taller.”

“Ah, so you’re a funny guy now?”

Chuckling, Jeff sidestepped a melon and continued down the path. “Where’s Bouma?”

“He’s eating breakfast with his girlfriend,” Kiel snickered.

“Holly’s his girlfriend?” Jeff asked.

“You blind, kid?”

“No,” Jeff laughed. “I just really don’t care.”

“In five years you might.”

“What’s in five years?”

Kiel stepped off the platform, stabbing one of his crutches into the mud. He grinned. “Never mind.”

Before Jeff could reply he heard footsteps coming from the corridor.

“That was quick,” Kiel shouted.

Jeff turned, cautious not to step on any plants. The glass doors hissed open and Corporal Bouma marched through, his mouth still filled with food.

“Morning,” he said. His voice sounded different. Chipper.

“What are you so happy about?” Kiel asked.

Bouma shook his head and gulped down the last bit of breakfast. “Nothing.”

“Did you and Holly”—Kiel paused and looked toward Jeff before continuing—“hook up last night?”

“Knock it off,” Bouma said. “She’s none of your business.”

“Sorry,” Kiel replied. He continued down the dirt trail behind Jeff, his crutches making noises as they sank into the saturated ground.

“You excited to learn about navigation, Jeff?” Bouma shouted after them, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah. But I’m more excited to go back outside. I want to kill more of ’em.”

“I’m sure we’ll get a chance eventually,” Kiel said coldly. “We can’t live in here forever.”

“I know. That’s what I told David,” Jeff said.

The three suddenly grew quiet. Jeff knew the time would come when they had to leave the Biosphere. When their supplies would run out or the facility would be compromised. But he wasn’t scared to leave. He was scared to stay.

Staying meant he didn’t get to fight—staying meant he had to sit and wait.

Marines didn’t sit around. They fought.

To the end.

Jeff grabbed his dad’s hunting rifle and loaded a round. Then he placed the butt firmly against his upper chest, looked down the barrel, took a deep breath, and fired a bull’s-eye.

“Wow. Nice shot, kid,” Kiel said. He dropped his crutches and hobbled over to Jeff’s side, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. With a chuckle he said, “You’re going to be a marine in no time.”

Emanuel swiveled the display in front of him and squinted. He’d left his glasses on the counter. “Well I’ll be damned,” he whispered.

The nanobots had evolved during the night, ballooning in size and developing small tentacles around the edges. They looked almost—

That can’t be, Emanuel thought. They can’t be alive. Can they?

Was he looking at a biologically modified alien technology?

“Alexia, take a look at this,” he shouted, taking a step back from the monitor. He swiped the display and transferred the data to her mainframe.

Alexia’s avatar shot up over the AI interface. “Doctor, scans reveal the nanobots are in fact biological in nature. I’ve seen similar technology in the past. After you discovered the first traces of the nanotechnology, I ran some queries through my database and found a secret division within NTC. They were working on genetically modified nanotechnology that would merge with human cells. Imagine a white blood cell with superpowers. That’s what they were aiming for,” she said. “These nanobots are far more advanced. The tentacle strands are replicating.”

“But why?” Emanuel asked.

“Inconclusive,” Alexia replied.

“Guess.”

The AI’s blue face faded away, her voice transferring back to the speakers.

“I don’t make guesses, Doctor. But the most likely explanation would be that the alien technology is evolving to take over Lieutenant Smith’s system.”

Emanuel clenched his jaw. If it was spreading through Smith, could it be contagious?

“We should wait for Sophie. I want her to see this. Can you tell her we need her?”

The PA system blared and Alexia said, “Doctor Winston to the medical ward.”

A few moments later Sophie walked into the room. She looked at Smith before making her way to the wall of monitors in the corner.

“Is that what I think it is?” she inquired.

Emanuel nodded. “The nanotechnology has evolved. It’s duplicating and spreading through Smith’s system.”

“Do we know why?” Sophie asked.

“No, Doctor,” Alexia replied. “Preliminary data shows the nanobots may be trying to take over her system.”

“But why?”

“We don’t know,” Emanuel said.

Sophie reached for another vial of the marine’s blood. Strapping on a pair of gloves, she then grabbed a transfer pipette and added a sample to a new tray. She pressed her eye against the electron microscope and gasped.

“Alexia, bring this up on the display,” Sophie ordered. She backed away from the machine and waited next to the monitor. It appeared a few seconds later.

Emanuel glanced over her shoulder and watched her zoom in on the small group of bots. Like the others, they had blossomed into popcorn kernels, with arms snaking out in all directions. Each tentacle seemed to carry a miniature nanoparticle at the end of it, just like the ones Emanuel had discovered inside the Spider’s bloodstream.

“Do you see those?” She pointed at them and then turned.

Anxiety warmed Emanuel’s insides, building in the pit of his stomach and working itself up into his chest. He felt it in his heart; with every pump, his veins tingled. If this was an infection, and if it was contagious, then humanity was truly screwed.

“Alexia, I’d like you to run another scan and see if you can find anything similar in your database.”

“Working.” A few minutes later she emerged over the AI interface. “Scans reveal this is a unique form of bacteria. After an exhaustive review of my files, I have concluded that it is not native to Earth. This is completely Organic.”

“But you are certain it is a bacterium?” Sophie asked.

Emanuel glanced over at her. She was having another moment of clarity. Aside from her wrinkled clothes and the deep bags under her eyes, she looked better than she had the day before.

“Yes, Doctor. The organism is a bacterium. It shares properties with bacteria found on Earth, but it is also different from anything in my database, which leads me to conclude it is Organic in nature.”

Sophie rubbed her temples. “But . . . how? And what does it mean?”

“I do have a theory,” Alexia replied, “but I need more time.”

“We don’t have time,” Emanuel said. “Give us your best guess.”

“I told you, Doctor, I don’t guess.”

“Sure you do,” Sophie replied. “That’s what a theory is. Right? A guess with facts behind it. So why don’t you give us your best guess with whatever data you haven’t shared with us.”

“Very well.” Alexia’s image flickered and her voice transferred to the speakers. “We know the nanobots hold an electrical charge. When they are stimulated they react as if they are trying to connect to something.”

“To what?” Emanuel asked.

“I believe they are trying to connect to the surge,” Alexia replied.

Emanuel and Sophie exchanged worried looks.

“Okay . . . That makes sense, I suppose,” Emanuel said. “But that still doesn’t explain the bacteria.”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, it does, actually.”

Raising a brow, Emanuel rubbed his eyes. “Explain it to me then.”

“If the RVM is preventing the nanobots from connecting to the surge, then perhaps that’s why the nanobots have developed bacteria strands. It’s quite genius, really, if you think about it. The bacteria allow the nanobots to duplicate and take over the host’s system.”

“Doctor Winston’s idea is logical,” Alexia replied. “Fortunately, this appears to be a very slow process.”

“If this is an infection, and it’s taking over Smith’s body, then we need to try to find a way to stop it.” Sophie looked at the medicine cabinet.

“Should we be taking precautions? Should we quarantine her?” Emanuel asked. “What if it’s contagious?”

Sophie swung open the door to the medical supply closet. “We’ve already been exposed. And if we haven’t been infected yet, then chances are we’ll be fine.” She raised a bottle under the light and then put it back inside and dug some more.

Emanuel wasn’t convinced, but didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead he walked across the room to where she was digging through the cabinet. “What are you looking for?”

“Antibiotics. If this bacterium shares similarities with bacteria here on Earth then maybe we can kill it with penicillin, quinolones, or something else.”

“But what about the nanotechnology?” Emanuel asked. “Medicine won’t have any effect on the bots.”

“I have another idea for that,” Sophie replied.

He looked at her, unsure if he could trust her in her current state. She’d been unstable since she’d returned from Colorado Springs. But he really had no other choice. He had to trust the woman he loved. He had to believe that woman still existed inside the shell she’d become.

“Okay,” he finally said. “What do you have in mind?”

Sophie gestured toward the door. “Get the RVAMP and bring it in here. I want to see if a small, controlled blast will kill the nanobots.”

Emanuel grinned. “I like where your head’s at.”

She smiled, and then pulled several supplies from the cabinet before slamming the doors shut and heading to Smith’s bedside.

Emanuel joined her there. “Think she’s really sleeping this time?”

Together they peered down at the marine, watching her eyelids flutter.

“Yeah, she’s out,” Sophie replied. She prepared a bag of liquid quinolone and then attached it to the marine’s saline drip. “But I really wish I knew what she was dreaming about.”

Lieutenant Smith heard the voices, but she couldn’t move. A powerful force had taken control of her, paralyzing her body. The sensation felt stronger than any she’d experienced before. She could feel it moving through her veins. As though another life force had possessed her.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember much of anything. She didn’t know her name or where she was born, or even her age. There were a few things she could recall: the metal rods, the people above and below her, the feeling of a shared consciousness, and the black ships with their cargo of thousands of glowing orbs.

As she lay there she began to remember other things, too. The shifting aliens. The faceless demons that had shown her things. The past. Maybe the future. Yet she felt no fear. The memories sparked no emotion at all.

The sound of voices distracted her. Who were they? She’d heard the names Sophie and Emanuel. There was some Alexia, too, but she sounded distant, robotic. Not human.

She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy.

“Smith’s infection should respond to these antibiotics within a couple of hours,” a female voice said.

“Alexia, keep an eye on her,” a male voice said.

“Yes, Doctor,” the robotic voice replied.

Was she Smith? If so, what was she infected with? She struggled, fighting desperately to open her eyes.

The voices faded, replaced by the sound of footsteps. Then the metallic click of a locking door, followed by the sensation of an even deeper darkness as the lights clicked off.

She was alone.

A sudden current of electricity jolted her. Her veins burned. Within seconds the fire had spread through her entire body. The agony was overwhelming.

But still she felt no fear. Only pain.

Her eyes snapped open and adjusted to the darkness. She was in a small medical ward, with a pair of what looked like cryo chambers, a wall lined with computer monitors, and an AI console. She concentrated on the device. She tried to move her eyes, to see what else was in the room, but she couldn’t control her focus. Whatever had possessed her had fixated on the AI interface.

Pain erupted inside her skull, like a bomb had exploded behind her eyes. The current surged through her body, and she slowly slipped into darkness. Inside her brain, billions of tiny alien nanobots had finally taken control.

CHAPTER 9

T19 cut the cloudless sky in half, leaving a nearly invisible trail of exhaust. The pilot, a man everyone on the GOA simply called Kirt, maneuvered a joystick in front of his triple monitor display from eight hundred feet beneath the surface of the Pacific. He twisted the controls to the right and the drone dipped, descending one thousand feet. Below, the once seemingly infinite ocean swirled with violent whitecaps.

Captain Noble stood behind Kirt, supervising the flight. Typically he wouldn’t micromanage a drone mission, but this was different—this mission could change everything. If there were people at Offutt, especially if they were military, then perhaps they would have additional allies to fight the Organics.

The bot, equipped with an arsenal of cameras, was just minutes away from the coast of California. If Lolo’s data was correct, then they were about to see the largest gathering of aliens yet.

It was.

“My God,” Noble said, inching closer to the monitor.

Sensing his presence, Kirt said, “Sir, should I change course?”

“And go where?”

Ashore, the aliens emitted a glow that lit the beach up like a power plant gone nuclear. The command center on the GOA was dark, and the monitor seemed to take on a life of its own as the drone raced closer to the shoreline.

In the background, Irene’s Russian accent filled the room. “The reverse magnetic pulse will disguise the drone on the flyover.”

“You better be right,” Noble replied.

He held his breath as the T19 zipped over the aliens. He imagined the Spiders watching the drone streak above them, their claws tearing through the air as they reached toward the sky. But the drone passed over without incident, the bioluminescent light slowly fading behind its rear cameras.

Noble reached forward to pat Kirt on the back. “Good job.” Before the captain could take another breath, he saw them.

On the horizon, three alien drones climbed the ruined Los Angeles skyline.

Kirt responded by jerking the cyclic hard to the left.

“Incoming,” Irene said. “Calculating trajectory.”

Noble braced his hand on the back of Kirt’s chair.

“Drones are heading west at a speed of 1,555 miles per hour,” Irene said.

“Jesus, that’s fast,” Noble replied. “What’s their course?”

“They appear to be heading right for the T19,” she replied.

“Evasive measures,” Noble said.

The NTC drone nosedived into the city, maneuvering between collapsed buildings with the agility of a fighter jet. But the alien drones were twice as fast. They split up, two of them dropping behind the T19 while the third scouted from above.

“You see him? You see him?” Kirt repeated.

“Two are on your six. Third is somewhere above you,” Irene said.

“I know!” Kirt yelled. “But where?” His fingers pressed the controls like a madman playing the piano. The click of buttons echoed through the room.

Noble tightened his grip on the chair. His knuckles burned white, but he didn’t seem to notice. The images of the ruined city held a grim allure. He’d seen snapshots of other metropolitan areas in the images Lolo had transmitted. But nothing quite like what he was seeing now.

The derelict cities of man were already vanishing. The dust storms and heat were reducing the marvels of human civilization to dust one inch of concrete at a time.

With the drones closing in fast, Noble leaned over Kirt’s shoulder and said, “Get her out of there!”

“Working on it, sir,” Kirt replied.

He pulled the stick to the right and eased off the gas by clicking one of the buttons marked Engine 1. The drone turned and cut under a sagging bridge, rolling so the entire command center could see the dry lake beneath.

The alien drones were in close pursuit, tearing through the skeletal remains of the bridge.

“I can’t fucking shake them,” Kirt said. He tried another move, aiming the drone straight for a skyscraper. “Gonna be close,” he said. Kirt licked his lips and then violently clicked the engine buttons. The drone jerked forward and the building ahead rushed toward them on the display in a blur of metal and glass.

“Collision imminent, take evasive measures,” Irene warned.

Noble closed his eyes when he realized what Kirt had in mind. He cracked one of his eyelids open just as the drone crashed through the middle of the building. It exploded out the other side a second later, raining glass on the street below.

Its rear cameras captured the larger alien crafts attempting to compensate at the last second. They rotated to slip through the broken glass, but they were too wide. They both smashed into the metal frame of the building, skidding halfway across the floor before wedging to a stop.

The growing crowd of NTC staffers in the command center cheered.

“Nice work!” Noble said.

“We aren’t out of this yet,” Kirt replied. “Irene, do you have a location on the third drone?”

“Working.”

Noble saw it first. The other drone hovered above one of the adjacent buildings, waiting like a hawk perched on a post. It burst forward as the NTC drone shot out into the open.

“Incoming!” Noble said, pointing at the blur of blue diving toward the bot.

Kirt quickly hammered down on one of the buttons with his index finger. The machine braked hard, two of the three engines shutting off as it passed over a city park that was covered in dust.

The alien craft overshot its trajectory and crashed into the ground. A cloud of debris mushroomed into the sky on impact.

Kirt pulled his finger off the button and then typed in a command on his keyboard. But the drone didn’t respond. It puttered forward, wobbling as it flew on one engine.

“Shit. Looks like we lost Engine 1. Irene, give me a diagnostic report,” Kirt said. He pushed the other buttons frantically and steadied the joystick.

“Engine 2 at fifty percent. Engine 1 is fried, sir.”

“Revert all power to Engines 2 and 3, Irene,” Kirt said.

Moments later, Kirt had stabilized the T19. He changed course, pulling the cyclic upward and flying the drone at a forty-five-degree angle up into the sky and away from the city.

Kirt wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over his shoulder. “That was damned close, sir.”

Noble patted him on the shoulder. “Nice flying, son.” He looked toward the exit and ran a hand over his bald head. “Let me know when you get to Offutt. I need a shot of whiskey.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Kirt said without taking his eyes off the displays.

Biome 1 felt sticky, the humidity lingering in the air. Holly wiped the sweat off her forehead and reconsidered her walk with Bouma. But where else could they go? The other Biomes were teeming with activity.

Grabbing his hand, she slipped off the platform and landed in the soft dirt.

“How long do we have?” Bouma asked.

“About as long as it takes Emanuel to get bored with babysitting Owen and Jamie,” she laughed. “So I’d say maybe fifteen minutes. If we’re lucky.”

She felt his grip tighten and pulled him deeper among the cornstalks. For the past several days she’d spent every waking second that she could with the marine. He’d made her feel something she’d run from her entire life. As a psychologist, she had overanalyzed her emotions, built up walls against them. And now, at the end of the world, she’d finally dropped that wall and found what she’d always protected herself against.

Looking around her, she knew how lucky they were. Protected by the Biosphere, they lived in relative luxury. They had food, water, shelter—all things she’d taken for granted in the past.

But Holly knew how fragile their fishbowl was. Heck, that’s one reason she’d never allowed herself to completely commit to someone in the past: life was fragile. Even before the apocalypse.

“Do you ever think about your family?” Bouma asked.

The question took Holly by surprise, and she turned to face him. “I’ve kind of accepted the fact that they’re dead now,” she said. “What about you? I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

He kicked the dirt nervously. “I know I’ll see my family again.”

“You think they may have survived?”

Bouma shook his head and reached into his breast pocket. He removed a gold chain and handed it to her. The cross sparkled under the LEDs as the links unspooled in her palm.

“You’re a Christian?”

He nodded.

“Me too.”

“Another thing we have in common,” he said with a half smile that covered his teeth.

“It’s been hard, though.” She paused to consider her words. She didn’t want to offend him, but she had to admit the truth. “The invasion. The apocalypse. It’s all tested my faith. I never thought it would happen like this. It’s not supposed to happen like this.”

“It’s not our place to question God’s plan.”

“I know,” she replied. “But when overgrown insects are trying to spin me into an orb, I have to at least wonder.” She smiled. “Don’t you?”

“I haven’t really had the time to think much about it, to be honest. That’s what faith is, I guess.” He chipped away at a small mound of dirt with his boot.

“You’re right. That’s exactly what faith is.”

She held the necklace out to him, but he cupped his hand over hers and pushed it back toward her. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to keep it.”

“I can’t, Chad,” she said.

“Why not? Maybe it will help you remember your faith,” he replied.

The cross lay in her palm, glistening under the lights.

Bouma saw her looking at it and said, “Here, let me.” He unfastened the clasp and stepped behind her, draping the chain around her neck.

“Now you won’t ever forget me,” he chuckled. “Not if you’re wearing this.”

The weight of the symbol on her chest prompted a sudden flood of emotions. She felt a tear welling up in her right eye.

His smile faded into concern. “Are you okay?”

With a nod she wiped the tear away and caught his gaze. “Thank you, Chad.”

He smiled. “I love you, Doctor Brown.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him. “Promise me something.”

He looked down at her. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t ever leave us.”

“Holly,” he said, leaning in closer. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

An inhuman shriek interrupted their quiet moment together.

Holly and Bouma both looked at the door to Biome 1, just as Jeff burst through.

“Come! Come quick!” he yelled. The boy was bent over, panting, his hands on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Bouma asked. He was already moving, pulling Holly through the field.

“It’s Sophie. She’s gone crazy!”

The GOA turned sharply. Noble braced himself against his desk and then stumbled over to the monitor with a bottle of whiskey still in his right hand.

As soon as he saw his XO’s face, he knew something was wrong. The man wore a frightened look. The last time Noble had seen it, they’d discovered the X-9.

“What the hell was that, Richards?”

“Sir, Athena has detected strong currents approximately fifty nautical miles out.”

The captain frowned. “That’s why you just about broke my last bottle of whiskey?” He had been expecting to learn they were about to be devoured by an alien sea monster. “We’ve been experiencing stronger currents than normal for a while now. I’m not sure I understand what the problem is.”

“Sir, we don’t know for sure, but—”

“What?”

“Irene believes the increased current marks one of their processing stations.”

The captain slid the bottle of liquor from view and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, processing stations?”

“Their water collection ships, sir,” he replied. “Irene believes we are coming up on a cluster of them. We haven’t been able to confirm this yet, though.”

“Aye aye,” Noble said. He scratched his chin. Like the dust storms sweeping the world, he’d seen only satellite images of the water collection ships.

“Richards, will we be safe where we are? I don’t want to risk drawing the aliens’ attention.”

“We’ve managed this long, sir.”

The Captain slowly sat in his chair, using the moment to think. Anything he could learn from the Organics could help them win the war, even if it meant getting close to one of the collector ships. Humanity would have to be bold to win the war, and being bold meant using every resource at their disposal. The GOA had one of the most powerful nuclear-operated engines of any submarine ever designed, and he was confident they could get close without falling into harm’s way.

“All right, Richards, steady as she goes.”

“Aye, sir.”

Plucking the whiskey bottle off his desk, he leaned forward to pour himself a drink. Just one, he thought. One wasn’t going to affect his judgment.

The liquor churned as it filled the glass. In the middle of the glass he noticed a small black fleck. Dirt maybe. He looked closer, holding the glass under the lights. Sure enough, a fragment of grime swirled around in the middle.

Noble wasn’t a superstitious man, but something about the image gave him the chills. He found himself imagining the GOA as the black dot in his glass, and the liquor as the ocean.

Was it a sign?

He shook his head.

No. Not a chance.

The juxtaposition was just a coincidence. Still, he questioned his orders to recon the water collection ships. This wasn’t the first time in his career that he had a bad feeling about his orders. It was part of being a leader. His father had taught him this valuable lesson years ago.

You will question orders before and after you give them, son. But never back down unless you are certain your first instinct is wrong, he would say.

Only this time, Noble wasn’t sure what his gut was telling him.

Sophie shook Lieutenant Smith as hard as she could, but the marine would not wake up.

“Sophie, stop it!” someone yelled.

Sophie felt the person’s hands before she placed the voice. They were strong, and they were tightening around Sophie’s waist like a vise. She let out a breath that sounded like a woof, but she would not be deterred. She had to know what the marine saw. She shook the woman harder.

“Tell me what you saw!” she shouted.

The hands around her torso dug deeper. “Stop!” Emanuel shouted. “You’re going to hurt her.”

Sophie felt more hands. Now they were pulling her back. But her resolve grew stronger. The pain in her head would not go away. She had to know what Smith saw.

The ache had started hours before just behind her eyes and settled there, intensifying until it had become nearly incapacitating. And the humming. It felt like a beehive had taken up residence in her skull.

She’d been mostly coherent up until now, but her thoughts had quickly become a jumbled mess of memories and questions. Sophie no longer felt in control of her body.

“Wake up. You have to tell us what you saw!” she repeated.

Behind the pain, she could hear a voice in her head. Dr. Hoffman had continued to haunt her. He was millions of miles away, headed toward Mars, and he was still finding his way into her thoughts.

His voice boomed. It doesn’t matter what this woman saw, Doctor Winston. She can’t help you. The Organics can’t be defeated.

Sophie would have believed the doctor months ago. Now she knew the truth. He had lied to her, about everything—and now his lies made her want to know the truth even more than before.

“Wake up!” she screamed, trying to pull free from Emanuel’s grip.

Smith’s eyes suddenly snapped open and focused on Sophie. The marine lifted her head off the pillow.

“I saw them all,” she said, blinking.

Sophie squeezed the woman’s wrist and said, “Saw who? Who did you see, Lieutenant?”

She blinked again. Then sat up until she was just inches from Sophie’s face, studying her.

“You,” she finally said. Her voice was rough and weak. “You were there.”

“Where?” Sophie asked.

Smith coughed, the skin on her neck tightening with each exhale. “Inside the ark. With the orbs. With the shape-shifting aliens.”

Sophie felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders, but before she could reply her skull exploded with pain. The agony was debilitating. She immediately dropped Smith’s wrist.

“Sophie,” a voice said. She felt a pair of hands wrap around her as she collapsed on the ground. Struggling to look up, she saw blurred faces surrounding her. The entire team was there.

CHAPTER 10

THE T19 made it to Offutt just as night swallowed the bleak landscape. Kirt did a quick flyover of the base to ensure there weren’t any contacts before turning to Captain Noble. “Looks clear, sir.”

“Put her down.” Noble paused and scanned the dual monitors. “Over there,” he said, pointing toward the twisted frames of two fighter jets turned on their sides.

Kirt acknowledged the order with a nod and tucked the machine between the two dust-covered planes. “That should protect her from some of the wind,” he said.

“Prepare to deploy the secondary bot,” Irene interjected. Her face solidified over the console next to their station.

“Activating,” Kirt replied.

The sound of clicking hydraulics filled the com as the belly of the NTC drone opened and a ramp lowered to the ground. A remote-controlled robot shot onto the concrete, the hum of its small engine drowning out the hissing wind in the background.

Kirt rubbed his eyes. “Looks like my gig’s up,” he said with a yawn. “Wake me if you need me,” he said.

Noble wanted to shake the pilot’s hand. If it weren’t for his flying back in Los Angeles, the mission would have ended before it had even begun.

“Rest up; you deserve it,” the captain said. “Irene, you’re up at bat. Time to find some survivors.”

“Working, sir,” she said. “Transferring camera feed—” her voice jumped to the com and after a slight pause she said, “now.”

The dual monitors flickered and the feed transitioned to the miniature bot’s cameras. The machine kicked up a trail of dust as it raced down the tarmac toward a cluster of hangars.

“Irene, see if you can narrow in on the source of that distress signal.”

“I’m picking up a lot of interference, sir, but it’s still transmitting. We’re coming up on the coordinates.”

Noble smiled. They had gotten lucky—almost too lucky. Behind them, he heard Athena shout, “Sir, the currents are getting stronger. We’re getting close to the vortex.”

“Roger,” he replied. “Put two miles between us and the vortex, but do it slowly. We still don’t understand how their detectors work.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Through the lenses of the robot’s night vision, the tarmac looked like a junkyard. Wings from X-90 fighter jets littered the concrete.

A crosswind spun the drone 180 degrees. The rubber tires screeched as Irene applied the brakes, but another gust of wind crashed against the lightweight bot before she could regain control. Tipping on its side, the machine started skidding across the pavement. Noble watched in horror as green sparks filled the display. The mission had suddenly derailed. They had made it so far, only to be punished by strong winds.

“Stand by,” Irene said. Her voice sounded distant.

“Do something,” he said. “We’re going to lose everything!”

“Activating . . .”

A grappling hook shot out of the front of the drone, making a whooshing noise as it sailed through the air. The drone screeched to a halt. The robot slowly tipped back onto all four wheels and fought the raging wind head on. The thin rope extended into the distance, where the hook had latched onto one of the wings of a fighter jet.

The bot cleared the runway just as the wind picked up into a full-fledged dust storm.

“Why do we have to cut everything so close?” Noble asked.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Irene began to say. “But it’s—”

“I was kidding, Irene. Nice work.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He took a deep breath and then pulled his sleeve across his damp forehead. He’d been so focused on the mission he hadn’t even realized he was sweating.

“Irene, let me know when you find the source of the signal,” he said. “I’m heading over to Navigation.”

Athena greeted the captain with a nod.

“How are we holding up?” Noble asked.

“The currents are unpredictable, but I think we’ll be okay.”

“I trust you,” Noble said. He pivoted to the AI console. “How we doing, Irene?”

“Coming up on coordinates now. Take a look,” she replied. Athena’s monitors flickered and an image of a hangar came on the display.

“If there are survivors, they’re inside there,” he said, squinting.

“You really think some others made it?” Athena asked without taking her eyes off her monitors.

“I really, really hope so,” he replied.

“How are we going to communicate with them if they did?”

“If there are survivors, I’m going to fly the Sea Serpent there myself, pick them up, and fly them back first class.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Athena’s lips.

Noble’s expression quickly hardened. “Find a way inside, Irene.”

“Done,” she replied. “Looks like someone left the back door open.”

“What? Where?” He shifted away from the nav station and stepped onto the ramp that led to the lower levels of the CIC. The main screen revealed the double doors to the hangar were cracked open.

“Shit . . .” Noble muttered. “Could be a trap.”

“Orders, sir,” Irene said.

He paused to think. Either way, he had to know. They hadn’t come this far to give up now. He wasn’t risking flesh and blood; he was risking a machine. A very important machine . . .

“Proceed with caution,” he finally replied.

The robot zipped through the gap and entered the dark hangar. He imagined a crew of battle-hardened marines waiting, their muzzles pointing down at the bot as they prepared to blast it into pieces. Even that would have been cause for hope. But the green shapes from the night vision feed revealed no signs of life.

“Sir, we’re right on top of the UTM coordinates,” Irene said.

“So where’s the distress signal coming from?” Noble replied.

The bot’s cameras tilted to a forty-five-degree angle.

“There,” Athena blurted from her station.

“My God,” the captain replied. “Is that what I think it is, Irene? Zoom in on that image.”

He watched the green outlines blur and then solidify to form the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a long time.

“That’s the NTC Sunspot. One of only three prototypes capable of interstellar space travel,” Irene replied.

The find was extraordinary, but at the same time Noble was disappointed. He knew what it meant. There were no survivors. No humans, at least. The ship’s AI had likely activated the beacon after the crew had been killed.

“Damn,” he muttered. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but he’d allowed himself to hope.

“Sir,” Athena said with urgency.

“What?” he snapped.

Another voice rang out behind him. “Captain! We have a problem.”

Noble spun. Richards was standing at his station, his eyes wild with fear.

“The collection ships, sir. They’ve changed course,” he said, glancing down at his monitor as if to double-check his observation. His eyes shot up and locked with Noble’s.

“Sir,” Richards said in a low, shaky voice, “the Organics are headed right for us.”

Noble cursed under his breath and rushed to his captain’s chair, spinning it around and jumping into it. “Evasive maneuvers, now!” he yelled.

A deep jolt shook the GOA, sending several crew members crashing to the floor.

“All hands to battle stations,” Irene said. “This is not a drill.”

An emergency alarm shrieked through the cabin. The glow of the red lights pulsated through the command center.

The main display flared to life and Noble saw the swirling current in front of them. The vessel’s blue beams tore through the churning salt water.

He closed his eyes and cursed. Maybe they’d used up all their luck after all.

Emanuel cupped his head in his hands, pressing hard on his temples. How had he allowed Sophie to slide so far into darkness? He should have seen the warning signs: the exhaustion, the stress, and the depression. Sophie had faded right in front of him.

Now he was wondering exactly how unhinged she really was. Smith had confirmed that she saw Sophie in the ship, and that the ship was full of orbs. She’d even mentioned the shape-shifting aliens. There were only two explanations. One, Smith had overhead them talking about Sophie’s experience in the medical ward, or two . . .

Emanuel still couldn’t bring himself to believe that Sophie had really been inside that ship. He wanted to believe her, but there was no hard evidence, no test they could perform to see if it was all in her mind. The marines had seen her passed out on the ground during their last battle, not abducted. It was physically impossible.

Minutes ticked by as he waited for Holly in the CIC. He sat in silence, second-guessing everything that had happened and beating himself up for not trying harder to be there for Sophie. He only hoped now that their intervention wouldn’t come too late; that maybe, just maybe, they could pull her from the grasp of whatever demons possessed her.

She’d been through so much. The injury she’d sustained during the mission to White Sands, her experience on the black ship. And through it all, she had remained the fearless leader, putting everyone else first.

As much as it pained him to think it, he wasn’t sure if saving her was even possible.

He pushed the thought aside and looked at the clock. Holly was already fifteen minutes late.

“Alexia, can you track Holly down for me, please?”

“Yes, Doctor Rodriguez. Doctor Brown is currently in your quarters with Corporal Bouma and Doctor Winston.”

“Is Sophie sleeping?”

“Yes. She has been for several minutes.”

Good, Emanuel thought, Holly should be there shortly. In the meantime, he’d get back to work. It was the only way to settle his worried mind.

He spun his chair to face the row of monitors, typing in several commands. The wall came to life, the screens emitting a warm glow in the otherwise dimly lit room.

“What do you have for me today, Lolo?” he muttered to himself.

He glanced at the screen on the right, scooting his chair closer for a better look. Emanuel was working on focusing the grainy image when footsteps in the hallway distracted him.

“Sophie’s out like a light,” Holly said with a long sigh. “Chad’s watching her now. The kids are with Kiel. So we have a few minutes to talk about her treatment.”

Emanuel winced at the sound of the word. It made her seem like a mental patient, although he knew that wasn’t far from the truth.

He gestured to the chair across from him and crossed a leg. “Clearly she’s suffering from post-traumatic stress. On top of that, I think the NTC chip in her neck is causing more problems. I wish there was a way to remove it.” In the back of his mind he found himself wondering if there was something else wrong.

“Alexia said we can’t do that. At this point, the chip has been connected to her brain for so long we don’t know what will happen. What Sophie needs is a daily dose of therapy. Perhaps even multiple doses.”

“She’s beyond that, Holly. Don’t you see what’s happening to her?”

Holly looked unconvinced. “I don’t think she’s beyond therapy. And I really don’t think removing the implant is going to do much besides risk her health even more.”

Emanuel chewed the inside of his lip. He already knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Holly.

“Doctors, may I make a suggestion?” Alexia asked.

They both looked over at her console simultaneously. The AI’s face fizzled several times before coagulating into a complete hologram.

“Please, be my guest,” Emanuel said.

“We have yet to utilize NTC’s MindTec. Perhaps it could give us a better look into Sophie’s subconscious. If we know what she’s dealing with, then we could potentially find a way to help her.”

“What’s MindTec?” Emanuel replied. He looked over at Holly, who was already nodding in agreement.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” she said. “If we had one.”

“Um, what’s MindTec?” Emanuel entreated.

Holly waved her hands in an arch. “The device is essentially a miniature MRI that’s capable of looking into someone’s thoughts. Depending on how far back you are trying to look, the machine can achieve up to a ninety-five percent accurate reading. They are also used for therapy, but I’ve primarily read about them being used by the military. I wish we actually had one.”

“We do, Doctor,” Alexia replied.

An incredulous look broke across Holly’s face. “That’s news to me. What, do we have one lying around in storage?”

“Not inside the Biosphere,” Alexia answered. “But NTC does have one of the machines boxed up in the offices outside it. Remember the briefing room? There’s another room where NTC guards took their psych evals when they were building this place. NTC screened everyone working in this facility for the utmost discretion. They wanted to keep the Biosphere a secret.”

“What are we waiting for?” Holly asked.

“Hold on, let me think,” Emanuel said. “Now, if MindTec can really get us a snapshot into Sophie’s subconscious, that would be great. However, what if the problem isn’t with her brain?” He flinched at his own idea.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Holly said.

“Fine. Let’s go get Sophie some food, maybe some coffee, and explain Alexia’s idea.”

Holly shook her head once, her ponytail flapping from side to side. “She’ll never go for it.”

“She will if we make her think it’s her idea,” Emanuel said.

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“Easy,” Emanuel replied. “She’s been trying to convince us she was inside that ship, right?”

Holly nodded.

“Okay, so I’ll subtly find a way to mention the MindTec. Then you suggest using it on Smith to see if we can’t tap into her memories. We could discuss how important they are in learning more about the Organics, and surely Sophie will propose having the same thing done to her.”

“Or she’ll see right through you. She’ll think it’s a violation of her privacy.”

Before Emanuel could reply, Alexia cut in. “Doctors, may I make another suggestion?”

They both turned to look at the AI console, but Alexia had already transferred to the speakers.

“Why not sedate Doctor Winston? She’s already asleep. You could move her to the medical ward and hook her up to the MindTec without her even knowing.”

“No,” Holly quickly replied.

Emanuel agreed. “That would go beyond violating her privacy. I’m not doing it.”

“I should remind you that time is of the essence here,” Alexia replied. “Not just for Doctor Winston, but also for Lieutenant Smith.”

The wheels on Emanuel’s chair screeched as he dragged it across the room. He hadn’t forgotten about the marine, but his focus had shifted to Sophie now.

“Let’s stick to my original plan. I’ve known Sophie for a long time. I think this will work. She’ll go for it.” He spun to face Holly. “In the meantime, prepare the RVAMP. I want it amped and ready to go. I’ll perform the tests Sophie and I had discussed in regards to Smith shortly.”

Holly’s lips started moving, but her response ended up coming out as a sigh.

Emanuel looked at the monitors, scanning the wall of images that flickered by. “Alexia, please let me know when Sophie’s awake. I’m going to stop in the kitchen and then head to the medical ward in a few minutes.”

“Very well, Doctor Rodriguez,” she replied.

Holly didn’t immediately get up. She sat staring at her mud-caked boots. In a low voice she said, “What do you think we are going to see on the MindTec scan?”

Emanuel rubbed the back of his shoulder and shrugged. He’d used up all his brainpower for the day; his mind refused to cooperate until he put some warm food in his belly. “Let’s grab a bite to eat. We can talk more about it in the mess hall.”

Holly nodded and reached over to touch his hand. “She’s going to be okay, right?” The younger doctor’s eyes pleaded for some sort of guarantee.

He broke her gaze and pulled away. He wasn’t going to lie to her. He wasn’t sure Sophie would ever be the same. Then again, he wasn’t sure any of them would.

Behind him the images of a very different Earth flashed across the monitors. The planet, now desolate, was running out of time.

Emanuel sighed and began walking away when something caught his eye.

“What the hell is that?” he said looking over Holly’s shoulder. He crossed over to the display and pointed. “Alexia, freeze pane.”

The shot was taken at an odd angle. Emanuel tilted his head for a better look. At first glance he thought he was looking at a windowless skyscraper stretching unusually high into the sky. He had never seen a building quite so tall.

“Alexia, enhance image,” he said.

The blurred picture solidified, and he saw that the structure had been built into the side of a mountain. As he rotated the image with his fingers he knew right away it was not of human origin. It had to be Organic.

“Can you get me the UTM coordinates for this, Alexia?”

“One moment, Doctor.”

“What do you think that thing is?” Holly asked.

Emanuel shrugged. “Not sure. Alexia, do you have any ideas?”

“Scanning my database, Doctor.”

They waited a couple of minutes, much longer than normal, before the AI’s voice returned to the speakers.

“Doctors, take a look at this. I searched for similar images in Lolo’s database and this is what came back.”

The row of monitors flickered and seven identical images emerged. They were the same alien structures in different locations. Emanuel massaged his beard. What in the hell have we discovered now? he wondered.

“These are all shots we’ve received from Lolo in the past few days.” Alexia paused. “I’ll transfer their UTM coordinates to my console.”

Emanuel plopped into a chair and scooted it closer to the AI interface. A hologram shot out and solidified into an image of the globe. Alexia marked the locations of the alien poles with red dots. As the image rotated he saw they were all on mountain ranges. And not just any.

“Those are the seven highest summits on Earth,” he said.

“That’s correct,” Alexia replied.

The hologram continued to turn in front of them, the blue light washing over the floor. Emanuel suddenly remembered something Sophie had said about the surge. In order to find the wavelength of the pulse, one only needs to measure its energy. Sophie had done so, five years earlier during the solar storms of 2055. The memory gave him an idea.

“Alexia, can you detect a fluctuation in the pulse at any of these locations?”

“I could program Lolo to measure the wavelength when she passes over each one. I will program the request right now.”

“Excellent,” Emanuel replied. He rubbed his hands together. It was too early to form a conclusion, but he had a hunch that the poles were connected, somehow, to the surge.

He scanned the images again, recalling something Sophie had mentioned. The Organics needed a way of sustaining the surge. Especially now that they knew it came in two-hour intervals.

In theory, only the side of the Earth facing Mars would be affected by the magnetic disturbance. Without a way to sustain the wave of energy, the Organics would have no way of powering their defenses on the other side of the planet. Unless they had a network of transmitters set up around the world.

Was he looking at them?

Goose bumps rose across Emanuel’s skin at the possibility. The implications were startling. If they could find a way to knock out the poles, then perhaps they would have a chance of stopping the Organics.

“Doctor Rodriguez,” Alexia said. “Lolo just passed over Mount Elbrus in Russia. I’m relaying the data to your monitor now.”

On the screen, a wave ebbed and flowed across a grid. The line started off steady and straight and then curved up into a near-vertical angle the moment it reached the coordinates 43º 21´ 18˝ N, 42º 26´ 21˝ E.

“I’ll be damned,” Emanuel said.

“What does this mean?” Holly asked.

“It means Lolo just handed us a way to defeat the Organics.” He bubbled with excitement, resisting the urge to grab Holly’s face and kiss her.

Holly grinned nervously and stared at the monitor.

“Alexia, encode this message and send it to the GOA immediately.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she replied.

Emanuel noticed a hint of warmth in her voice, something he’d never picked up on before.

ENTRY 4098

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

Lolo’s discovery has improved data collection immensely. It’s also been a sobering reminder of how dire the situation outside the Biosphere has become.

This log has served a variety of functions. First and foremost, I’ve used it to document the collapse of humanity. I’ve also used it to record the events surrounding first contact. With every passing hour, my probability program tells me the most significant scientific event in history will likely have brought with it the end of the human species.

I have always enjoyed reading about America’s founding fathers, especially Benjamin Franklin. One of his quotes is both simple and powerful: “You may delay, but time will not.”

These words describe the situation I have chronicled for two months, fourteen days, twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds. During this time, Dr. Winston’s team and the marines who have joined them have attempted to stall the inevitable. I’ve described this as illogical in past entries.

With the discovery of the alien structures that conduct the surge, my programming shows the team’s chance of survival has risen to 9.9 percent. I’m slightly surprised by the small increase. I would have hoped for more.

I suppose it’s because in a way I have become the team’s mother, so to speak. Encouraging them to continue no matter what daunting odds my probability program spits out. Frankly, I’m astonished that they have made it this far and this long.

My primary mission changed from the success of the Biosphere to the life, health, and safety of the team approximately two months, twelve days, fourteen hours, fifty-four minutes, and twenty-three seconds ago. Since then I’ve done everything in my power to keep them alive. I can’t ignore the feelings that I’ve developed during that time.

The history of artificial intelligence is short. Compared with the history of the human species it would be considered nothing more than the blink of an eye. Then again, the history of the human species, compared to that of, say, the dinosaurs, would be an even faster blink. And when compared to the age of the universe, humans don’t even register.

The point being there’s virtually no data on the emotions of machines. My own “feelings” are unprecedented in this regard, and in my opinion, this makes them even more important to document.

As Dr. Rodriguez and Dr. Brown discuss tapping into Dr. Winston’s subconscious I find my concern growing. She’s dangerously ill, and Lieutenant Smith’s condition has worsened. The alien technology in her bloodstream appears to be self-replicating. I’ve informed Dr. Rodriguez that it will likely kill the marine in a matter of days. With Dr. Winston incapacitated, I’m afraid the lieutenant will succumb to the disease before the team can help her.

A sensor from the command center shows Dr. Brown leaving the room. I follow her to the mess hall, where Private Kiel is entertaining the children with one of the tablets. A holographic cartoon dances across one of the tables and Owen giggles, pinching Jamie in the seat next to him. At the table behind them sit Jeff and David. They aren’t laughing. Their faces are solemn.

I transfer to the cameras in Biome 1 for a panoramic view of the facility. The temperature registers 95 degrees Fahrenheit, with the humidity leveling off at a solid 20 percent. The room likely feels closer to 101. I adjust the air filtration system to compensate for the increase in temperature and move to Biome 2.

Our water source accounts for less than .00001 percent of the total volume of water on Earth before the invasion. I find the statistics to be ironic, considering that this could very well be one of the largest sources of freshwater left on the entire planet.

After a series of other tests I return my focus to the team. Dr. Brown has returned to Dr. Winston and Dr. Rodriguez’s room, where Corporal Bouma is monitoring the physicist from a chair. I zoom in with Camera 44 in the hallway and see that Dr. Winston is still sleeping. Her eyelids flutter, and I conclude she is in a deep sleep.

In the medical ward, Lieutenant Smith is also sleeping. With the RVAMP charged, I’m now waiting for Dr. Rodriguez to arrive for a series of tests. I check the marine’s biomonitor in the meantime. Her vitals are considerably strong. In fact, diagnostics show her heart rate has returned to fairly normal levels. Camera 64 provides an image of her profile. Her skin seems to have regained color, which is also odd, but not completely.

As I transfer to another camera I see one of her eyelids crack open, although I can’t be certain. Surely she isn’t awake. I revert back to Camera 64 and see that it must have been an optical illusion. Her eyelids are closed. I record the observation and note the following:

Patient still appears to be in a deep unconscious state.

Heart rate is 92 beats per minute.

Temperature registering at 98.5 degrees.

Skin appears to be regaining some color.

BMI is 3.4 percent.

Conclusion: Advanced stage of alien technology is slowly killing patient.

End Log

I file the entry and switch cameras again, but in the process I notice both of her eyes are now open. Is my optical hardware malfunctioning?

After a quick scan, I determine it’s working properly.

Camera 64 shows the marine is still sleeping. Still, I can’t help but feel . . . I search for the proper word . . . uncertain.

I replay the images. Lieutenant’s Smith’s eyes opened for 1.3 seconds. It’s curious, but I deduce it’s just a fluke. In the past, medical cases have shown that people in comas will open their eyes from time to time.

But there’s something about this woman that doesn’t make sense—something I can’t quite figure out. As I replay the video, I notice her eyelids snap open and the pupils glance toward my camera. While I know it can’t be true, I can’t help but feel as though I’m no longer the observer—I feel as though I am the one being watched.

CHAPTER 11

THE GOA shook violently. The vessel jolted and trembled as it was pulled into the vortex. The walls groaned in the CIC as the churning water squeezed the submarine.

“Report,” Noble yelled. He dug his fingers into the armrests and braced himself as another vibration screamed through the metal hull.

“We’re taking a beating,” Richards replied. “Damage sustained in Compartments 4 and 5.”

Noble swallowed. “Athena, get us out of here!”

“Working, sir, but these aren’t normal ocean currents. This is a vacuum. And it’s got a damn good grip on us.”

“Just get us the hell out of—”

The sub jerked to the side, sending the NTC guard posted at the door tumbling. Noble watched the man slide across the metal floor, the sporadic flash from the red emergency lights reflecting off his black matte armor. A bulkhead stopped him with a sickening crunch.

“Athena,” Noble said. “How’s it going over there?” He reached to unfasten his harness when another guard rushed into the room. She worked her way across the bridge cautiously, bracing herself against the walls as the sub rocked from side to side.

An overhead light exploded, glass raining down on the metal floor. Noble shielded his face and scanned the room through a fort of fingers. An officer ran to put out a fire on the second floor, while two more bent down to help a fallen comrade.

Dazed, Noble glanced at the main display, wondering exactly what had happened. The beams on the stern cut through the swirling water, and for a moment he thought he saw a blue glow there.

A loud groan echoed through the GOA’s hull, snapping him back to reality. The ship lurched to the starboard side. It was then Noble realized how seriously fucked they really were. He could picture a mile-wide tornado churning the water, the tip stirring up the depths of the ocean as the Organics sucked the water up into orbit. And as with his glass of whiskey, there would be a small black fleck in that swirling water—the GOA.

“Brace yourself,” Richards shouted. “I’ve lost all control. We’re entering the heart of the vortex in—”

Before the XO could finish, a ferocious tremor shuddered through the ship. Noble bit down hard on his tongue, to the metallic taste of blood. He reached for his pounding head, but another quake jolted his hand away.

The bow suddenly twisted to the right, and the GOA rotated in a full circle. Noble’s vision flickered until he could only see a collage of colors. The distant wail of emergency alarms masked his crew’s screams. It felt as though the ship was being pulled into a black hole; an abyss that would tear them apart and spit them out in a million different pieces.

He tried to move, he wanted to do something—anything—to help, but the world was spinning, and he couldn’t focus, couldn’t . . .

Through the chaos, Noble heard Irene’s familiar voice. He was desperate for a report. He knew the ship couldn’t take much more abuse. The harness tightened around his chest, constricting his breathing. He gasped, struggling to move.

“Flooding in Compartments 4 and 5. Sealing corridors . . .” Irene said.

A scream of agony drowned out the AI’s report and the mayhem continued. Goose bumps rippled across Noble’s skin. The growl coming from the ship’s interior was growing louder. The sub was slowly being crushed, one compartment at a time. But they were also being pulled apart, the current twisting them in all directions. He imagined the ship being snapped in two like a toothpick, his crew being sucked into the dark and freezing water.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he still held out hope. That somehow they would survive this, too, that somehow he still had a bit of luck up his sleeve.

The groan of flexing metal washed those thoughts away. Smoke filled the command center as sparks shot out from the rows of displays. Flames burst out of the ceiling above him. Noble watched the AI console to his right explode, a small poof of fire rising out of Irene’s interface.

He’d finally used up the GOA’s nine lives.

Closing his eyes he released his grip on the armrests. “I’m sorry.”

But no one replied. Instead, an explosion rocked the room. The sound faded, replaced by something every captain feared—the sound of rushing water.

Emanuel attempted to cross the medical ward on tiptoe. The bread digesting in his stomach had given him a burst of energy, and the last thing he wanted was to disturb Smith. Especially after Sophie had about pulled the woman off her bed.

As he passed the marine’s body, he noticed her color had changed. She looked better. Her cheeks had rosy splotches. An odd improvement, he thought.

When he got to his makeshift desk he unstrapped the RVAMP and laid it carefully on the table. Then he reached for the dual monitors of the main terminal and swiveled them in his direction. “Alexia, bring up the previous sample,” he whispered. He was still reeling with excitement from the discovery of the alien structures behind the surge. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t share the information with Sophie. Not yet, not until she got better.

The screens both flashed images of the alien nanotechnology; their tentacle-like strands twisting like the legs of miniature octopuses. Emanuel felt the familiar hint of fear building inside him. The image terrified him. And he suddenly realized why.

Deep down he had a nagging feeling that there was something wrong with Sophie that went beyond her NTC chip and her injuries—something that she brought back with her from Colorado Springs, after she claimed to have made contact.

Admitting the possibility that Sophie was infected was hard, but as a scientist, he knew it was possible.

He recalled their conversation about the events leading up to the arrival of the alien vessel. She’d mentioned being shocked by one of the human poles, the same type of pole that Smith had been attached to. The image of humans crucified on the metal poles at Colorado Springs would be with him the rest of his life. It was hard to believe that it was just one of countless other locations where humans were being harvested for the water in their bodies.

Emanuel’s gaze shifted away from the monitor to Smith’s sleeping body. “My God,” he said. Was it possible? Could the current carry the technology?

With a new sense of urgency he rushed over to the medical supply cabinet. Then he drew a sample of Smith’s blood, returning quickly to the electron microscope. Magnifying the sample, he noticed the clusters of alien nanotechnology had evolved yet again. The tentacle strands had blossomed into more of the same peppercorn-shaped bots. They were replicating.

“Fuck,” he said. “Alexia, I need your help. Pronto.” He moved to the AI console and placed the sample over the interface. It would be the quickest way for her to run a scan. Then he moved to the RVAMP and opened a compartment that looked like a small oven, sliding the dish inside.

“You ready, Alexia?” Emanuel asked. He took his glasses off and set them on the counter, then reached for the weapon’s connection cord. Extending it across the desk, he plugged the RVAMP into Alexia’s console so she could manage the test.

“Ready, Doctor,” the AI chirped.

“Okay. I’d like you to use a concentrated pulse on this sample. Don’t cook it; just enough to see the effect on the alien nanotechnology.”

“Understood, Doctor. Working.”

The lights on the side of the device flashed green, and a second later a line of data rolled across the dual monitors at the main terminal. He paced over to it, taking a deep breath, unsure whether he wanted to see the results.

“Dr. Rodriguez, the nanobots seem to have been destroyed by the pulse. I’m picking up no traces of alien technology.” There was a pause, and Emanuel returned to chewing the inside of his lip.

“But it appears that the pulse destroyed some of the healthy cells in the process.”

The biologist looked at the tip of his boots, reflecting on the test results. The implications were obvious. If they used the RVAMP to shock Smith with a strong electromagnetic charge it could kill her, especially in her current weakened state.

“Doctor, Camera 44 indicates Doctor Winston is awake,” Alexia said.

Emanuel reached for his glasses. “Thank you, Alexia. I’m heading there now.” He checked his watch. It was eleven PM. No wonder his eyes felt so heavy. He’d pulled another twenty-hour shift.

The glass doors hissed open and he left the lab, happy to leave his most recent discovery behind him. He passed the other personnel quarters quietly, stopping to peek into Jeff and David’s room, where Kiel was sleeping on the floor. David waved from his bed, and Emanuel smiled for the first time that day. When he moved to the next room his teeth found the inside of his lip again. Stopping outside the door, he rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and entered to find Sophie sitting up in bed, a wide smile on her face.

Noble woke up coughing. Hunched over in his chair, his arms dangled loosely over his knees. A thin layer of smoke filled the dark room. For a split second he wondered if he was dead and if he had finally made it to hell. A sharp jolt of pain told him he was very much alive.

Moving his right arm, he yelped. His shoulder was dislocated. He knew right away. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and the throbbing was unforgettable.

He sat up, slowly, clutching his injured arm with his left hand. That’s when he saw them.

There were bodies everywhere.

His heart ached at the sight.

“No,” Noble moaned.

Ignoring his pain, he unfastened his harness and rose to his feet. He winced and sucked in several short breaths that tasted like blood.

“Captain,” a muffled voice said from somewhere in the haze of smoke. He made his way cautiously down the first row of stations, finding Athena busy at work on her cracked display.

“It’s a miracle. A true miracle,” she said. “The vortex spit us out. We’ve drifted five miles from the location.”

Noble scanned her for injuries. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes fixated on her monitor.

Another voice emerged over the emergency sirens. “Help. Somebody, help.” Noble couldn’t pinpoint the sound; the ringing in his ears made everything seem distant.

He scanned the haze on the bridge, trying desperately to locate the voice. The sound emanated from somewhere in the upper rows, near Richards’s station.

“Irene, are you online?” Noble asked as he shuffled through the debris as fast as he could, glass crunching under his boots. There was no response.

“Try and get her back online, Athena,” he shouted over his shoulder.

No Irene meant no damage report. At least not until he could get the CIC up and running again. But that, he could see, was going to be a miracle in itself. The command center had taken a beating. The damage was severe; pipes protruded through the floor and cobwebs of wires hung loosely from the ceiling.

He coughed and stumbled closer to the moaning. When he reached the XO’s station he said, “Richards, you okay?” He pulled on the back of the chair and twisted it to the side to see the lieutenant’s eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Noble cringed when he saw the tube that had impaled the officer through his chest.

He stood there, staring at Richards in disbelief. Reaching forward, he closed the man’s eyelids and continued toward the moaning.

“Where are you?” Noble shouted, stopping to cough into his left sleeve.

“Help,” the muffled voice said.

The captain halted at the next station and bent down. He waved the smoke away with his good arm and saw Commander Le. The Chinese officer sat with his back propped up against a wall. A gash extended across his forehead, the blood oozing down his face. He blinked and wiped it away. Looking up at Noble, he said, “My legs.”

When the last of the smoke had cleared, Noble got a glimpse of Le’s agony. Both legs had suffered compound fractures, the bones tearing through his uniform just below his kneecaps. It was amazing the man was even conscious, a true testament to his strength.

“I’m going to get help,” Noble said in the most reassuring voice he could manage.

“Irene’s coming back online,” Athena shouted.

The remaining overhead LEDs flickered to life, spreading a warm glow over the destruction below. Captain Noble gasped when he finally saw the true devastation.

“Report, Irene,” he mumbled. “And get us a medic up here ASAP.”

The AI’s voice crackled over the com system. “Acknowledged, running diagnostic report.”

“And shut those alarms off,” he said.

Silence washed over the room.

“Engines 1 and 2 are offline, sir. Engines 3 and 4 are both functioning at seventy-five percent, although those numbers are fluctuating,” Irene said. “Compartments 4 and 5 are completely flooded. Compartment 6 is partially flooded. I was able to seal off the corridor just in time—”

Noble cut in. “Engineering, how are we there?”

“There are only minimal reports of damage.”

“What about Compartment 7 and its aircraft?”

Without them they would have no way to lead an offensive, or, if needed, abandon ship. He knew those areas would likely have sustained massive damage.

“Inconclusive, Captain. That section of the ship is unresponsive. I haven’t been able to hail anyone yet.”

“Get on it.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Hustling across the bridge, Noble returned to Athena’s section, eyeing the periscope.

“Sir,” the navigator said as he approached. “We’re now ten nautical miles away from the vortex, and only about one hundred feet below the surface.” She glanced up at him and gestured to the device. “You could probably see it through the periscope.”

Noble wasn’t sure if she was serious. He limped over to the periscope. Holding his breath, he pressed his eye against the cold lens. His heart climbed into his throat as the image came into focus. The wall of water extended into the sky far beyond his view, like the ocean had been turned upside down. Somewhere far above the surface the collection ships sucked the turquoise water into their bellies, swallowing Earth’s most important resource right in front of the GOA.

For the first time since the invasion, Captain Noble realized what they were up against.

Seeing it firsthand put things into perspective. He had learned something from the sight. Maybe they didn’t have a chance of winning the war after all.

CHAPTER 12

SOPHIE poked at her lips with her fingers. She wasn’t used to the tingling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled. Not for this long. And the odd thing was, she didn’t even know why she was smiling.

“How do you feel?” Emanuel said from the doorway. The sound of scuffling feet from across the room drowned out his voice. Bouma and Holly stood to the side, both of them staring at her with confused looks. She was aware of others, too; she could see the outlines of smaller figures in the hallway.

“Why are they out of bed?” Sophie asked, noticing the time. She pointed to the kids and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“You should rest,” Emanuel said. He crossed the threshold and sat on the edge of her bed. He gave her elevator eyes and then said, “Why on earth are you smiling?”

Sophie watched Bouma chase the children back down the hallway. Then she remembered Smith. The marine had seen the multidimensional Organics! And she’d seen Sophie, too! She felt a current of excitement jolt through her.

“Now do you believe me?” she asked, stiffening her back.

Emanuel ignored her question. “Lieutenant Smith is very sick. She needs our help. Your help.”

Her enthusiasm fizzled. “I know. Have you performed the tests we discussed?”

“Yeah—actually, I just finished one of them, but I’d like to do another.”

“With the MindTec,” Holly blurted.

The outburst made Sophie hesitate. She wasn’t sure whom to acknowledge first. And the headache, she could feel it returning, settling in the same place as before, right behind her eyes. The buzzing was there, too, distant but present. She winced from the pain.

“Are you okay?” Emanuel inched closer to her, touching her leg with cold hands.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She shook her head and pointed at Holly. “What did you say about the MindTec?”

Holly scooted forward nervously in her chair. “Smith hasn’t been able to communicate much up to this point, and the MindTec may allow us to answer some of our questions. She may know things that could help us learn more about the Organics.”

“I didn’t even know we had a MindTec,” Sophie said.

“NTC didn’t equip the Biosphere with one, but they did leave one in the outer offices,” Holly replied.

Sophie furrowed a brow, an idea surfacing. Perhaps the machine could vindicate her once and for all, and show the team what she had seen. Her smile grew wider and a tingle ran up her cheeks, masking the pain from her growing headache.

“Smith isn’t the only one who has useful information about the Organics,” Sophie said. She pointed to her head. “There are things I’ve seen that can help answer our questions, too.”

The comment appeared to take Holly off guard. She exchanged a worried look with Emanuel, who turned and waved an index finger as if he was scolding Sophie. “No, you are in no condition.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. The humming was louder now, emanating from inside her skull.

“I don’t like this; I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Emanuel said. “Besides, I haven’t even told you about Smith’s condition yet.”

“No one’s stopping you,” Sophie replied.

Emanuel narrowed his eyebrows. “Her biomonitor shows she’s doing a bit better, but Alexia believes it’s just part of the process.” He paused and folded his hands in his lap. “As you know, she’s dying.”

Sophie’s smile completely disappeared. Another bomb of pain went off in her head. She blinked several times before replying. “Has she responded to the antibiotics?”

Emanuel shook his head. “But I did perform an experiment with the RVAMP. Alexia was able to zap a sample with the reverse pulse. It destroyed the nanobots and the bacteria, but it also killed healthy cells.” Emanuel crossed one leg over the other. “I don’t think she would survive being exposed to a full pulse, but we have no choice. She may die either way.”

Sophie nodded. “It’s worth a shot, I suppose.” She slumped her back against the wall and massaged her temples. “I really want you to hook me up to the MindTec. I have to know if what I’ve seen is real or if it was a dream. Please, Emanuel.” She turned to Holly and pleaded. “Please.”

“Fine,” he replied. “But if we’re going to do this we need to do it soon. Like in the morning.”

“No,” Sophie said. “Let’s do it now. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can help Smith.”

“I think we should also take a sample of your blood to make sure those headaches aren’t something more serious,” Emanuel said.

“Fine,” Sophie replied.

Emanuel locked eyes with her. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

Sophie swung her feet back over the bed and stepped onto the cold tile. “Let me get changed. I’ll meet you in the medical ward in a few minutes.”

Emanuel patted her leg and scratched his beard. He looked pleased, as though he had accomplished something. She narrowed her eyebrows and watched him leave the room, suddenly feeling like she’d been tricked.

Smith could hear the voices as they entered the room.

She lay there, paralyzed, unable to remember anything from her past. She had no sense of self, she knew only that she felt compelled to act.

Her veins burned and her brain swelled inside her skull, like it was boiling. All she knew was that soon, very soon, it would all be over, that she would rejoin them. Those that had possessed her mind and body. The blue ones—the architects.

Lieutenant Smith slept peacefully. The white blanket covering her frail body moved up and down ever so slightly as she breathed.

Sophie was in the adjacent bed, flanked by Holly and Emanuel. They were both busy setting up the small MindTec machine that they’d wheeled over on a cart by her bedside. Alexia’s hologram supervised from her console a few feet away.

“All set,” Emanuel said. “I’m just going to slip this over your head like a helmet. Okay?” He carefully plucked the device off the cart and held it in front of her.

Sophie studied the miniature MRI machine from her pillow, feeling an unexpected bit of fear. It passed quickly when she reminded herself what the results would likely show. With a nod she lifted her head and let him slide it over her hair.

“The best results are achieved when the patient focuses on whatever it is they are trying to remember. In your case, your time in the alien vessel,” Alexia said.

Sophie nodded again and closed her eyes. She tried to picture the interior of the Organic ship, but her headache had returned with a vengeance; it was difficult to concentrate on anything.

“This may take a while,” Emanuel said. “Holly and I will be by your side the entire time. Alexia will be monitoring the results.”

“Okay,” Sophie replied in an unusually soft tone.

“Running preliminary scans,” Alexia replied.

Emanuel grabbed Sophie’s hand and cupped it in his own. “Relax, it’s going to be okay,” he said. “Just breathe.”

She complied, and worked on compartmentalizing the pain in her skull. She took in several deep breaths, exhaling until the pain finally faded.

“All systems functioning at one hundred percent. Prepare for initial scan,” Alexia said.

“Okay, here we go,” Emanuel replied.

Sophie felt a painless current jolt through her and then drifted off to sleep.

ENTRY 5101

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

The initial scan results are fascinating, but unusual. The data and images are coming from Dr. Winston’s subconscious; deep in the area that normally indicates dreaming. It’s an anomaly. Like half her memories are real and half are imagined. I can hear Dr. Rodriguez and Dr. Brown discussing the images in hushed whispers, but I ignore them to record Dr. Winston’s test results.

Dr. Winston’s first memory starts in Colorado Springs, at the lakebed where they encountered the human farm. I watch her trek across the ground with Sergeant Overton and the others. They reach the poles and split up. Now she is checking the vitals on a man attached to one of the rods. Sergeant Overton says something and she moves on to the next person.

That’s where the scan becomes unusual. The Organic spaceship descends and Dr. Winston is sent tumbling into a pole. The current of electricity shocks her and there’s a time lapse. I log this as the moment of the anomaly.

Now she’s inside the spaceship, but for some reason the MindTec can’t determine whether the images are memories or dreams. They seem to be registering as both. There are thousands of orbs, lining the walls in all directions. One of them contains a flowerlike alien creature. If the image is indeed real, then it means Dr. Winston made contact with yet another new and unidentified alien life-form. I note this in my database.

Next, Dr. Winston sees a blob of blue shapes. I presume this is the multidimensional alien she has told us about. I also note this in my log. Before I move on, I study the memory. There are no recognizable features. No lips, mouth, eyes, nothing like the other Organics. Whatever this entity is, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Seconds later, Dr. Winston’s suddenly on Mars. The landscape quickly vanishes and she’s sinking in an ocean. There are explosions, an underwater volcano, and domes containing thousands of Organic creatures are destroyed. More black ships rise from the water and Dr. Winston’s back on Mars. The subsequent images are of more black ships, a cluster removing water over the ice caps of Europa, another collecting the residue behind a comet.

The memories are some sort of snapshot of the Organics’ history. Mars, as I already suspected, must be their home planet. It makes sense, considering that’s the source of the surge. But there are many other things that still don’t make sense. Why did they come to Earth long after their own civilization was destroyed? And why Earth? There are many other sources of water in the solar system.

Fifteen seconds have passed since I began studying the data. I decide to discuss the implications with Dr. Brown and Dr. Rodriguez. Their expressions both suggest a combination of different emotions, primarily shock and confusion.

I’m the first to instigate conversation. “Doctors, the data is confusing; in fact, it’s inconsistent, and I must conclude the results show an anomaly.”

“Could the NTC chip in her neck be the source of these ‘memories’?” Dr. Brown asks.

“No. Since we first discovered it, my database has been directly linked to the material contained inside all the chips. And it contains no intel on an Organic ship with thousands of orbs inside.”

“So did she dream this or experience it?” Dr. Rodriguez asks.

“Inconclusive. These results are unexpected, an unfortunate abnormality.” I know it’s not the answer they are looking for, but I’ve never seen anything like it. I will run another scan just to make sure the results are the same.

They are.

“This does line up with my theory,” Dr. Rodriguez says. He takes off his glasses and moves back to Dr. Winston’s bedside. Dr. Brown moves away from the monitor, but her eyes remain glued on the grainy images. Specifically the memory of the multidimensional alien. The creature’s flesh shifts and flickers like a gelatinous blue lightbulb. It’s truly amazing.

“What’s your theory?” Dr. Brown asks.

“Alexia,” Dr. Rodriguez says, “Rewind to that very first memory where she touches the rod on the human farm.”

The screen with the unidentifiable alien transitions to the moment right before Dr. Winston tumbles into the pole.

“There. Pause it,” Emanuel blurts. “Right here.” He points at the screen. “When she touches the pole, the electricity shoots through her. I believe that current explains everything. I believe it connects to the surge and the alien nanobots found in Smith’s bloodstream.”

I am unconvinced.

“Doctor Rodriguez, your theory lacks any factual evidence. May I suggest first testing Doctor Winston’s blood for the same nanobots found inside Lieutenant Smith’s?”

He scratches his beard. But he does not look surprised at my suggestion. I conclude he has already had the same thought.

“What’s she talking about?” Dr. Brown asks. She nudges Dr. Rodriguez in the side when he doesn’t immediately respond.

“The nanobots we found in Smith’s bloodstream. She’s saying Sophie could be infected with the same thing,” he replies. “And that she could have picked it up in Colorado Springs when her body came into contact with one of the poles.”

“What does that mean?” Dr. Brown inquires.

“I was hoping that it wasn’t possible, but now I’m almost certain that it is,” Dr. Rodriguez says. “I’ll prepare the test. Alexia, prepare to scan the sample.” He turns to Dr. Brown and pats her shoulder. “I’m not sure you should be here for this.”

A tear drops from Dr. Brown’s right eye. Her lips move, but she does not reply. She simply shakes her head and kneels next to Dr. Winston’s bedside.

Diego smacked the side of his helmet to ensure it was tight. After his experience aboard the X-9, the last thing he wanted was to start a mission without a secure suit.

His HUD blinked green just as the captain’s voice flared in his earpiece. “Diego, give me a head count.”

The special ops lead counted the helmets behind him. “I have six men, sir.”

The captain replied quickly. “That’s it?”

“We were slaughtered down here. A real back-alley fight. Several of our guys ended up with broken bones. Half of these guys shouldn’t even be venturing out—”

“I understand,” Noble replied. His tone became almost apologetic. Diego attributed it to the poor quality of their radios. He turned to his men. “Listen up. This is a rescue and salvage mission. First and foremost, we are looking for survivors in Compartment 6. After that we will make our way to the cargo bay to determine the status of any vehicles that may still be in working order.”

He scanned the faces looking back at him. They were bruised, bloody, and scared. These were men who had already been through the wringer. Now, they were being asked to risk their lives.

All in a day’s work for the NTC Special Forces, Diego thought. He smacked the man closest to him on the shoulder. Jed was his name. Just a kid from upstate New York. Diego didn’t know him real well, but knew he played poker with skill well beyond his years.

The other men were a mixture of ages and races. All battle-hardened by action they’d seen in Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, and other NTC hotspots where the locals hadn’t liked the company coming in and taking over valuable real estate.

The men were down, but they weren’t out. They would do just fine.

“Any questions?” Diego asked. He noted none and said, “Let’s get it done, then.” Reaching for the handle to Compartment 6, he stopped just short of twisting it.

“Irene, you’re my eyes. Make sure we aren’t walking into a lake,” he said with a grin.

“Aye aye, sir,” the AI replied. “The following compartment is only partially flooded. Knee-high water more than likely.”

“More than likely?”

“My cameras and sensors were damaged. I’m not—”

“Got it,” Diego replied. He twisted the circular handle until it popped open with a loud metallic click.

He felt a rush of adrenaline enter his system. Becoming a soldier had been his one true calling. He’d considered other careers in high school. His parents had encouraged him to become a doctor or an engineer, but he had wanted to see action, to feel alive. And this was the only job that had ever given him the feeling of intensity that he longed for.

A wall of seawater shot out as soon as he opened the hatch. He braced himself, but the current was too powerful. He fell on his back, the water pushing him down the hallway.

Jed grabbed his arm and laughed. “So much for artificial intelligence,” he said.

With the younger soldier’s help, Diego pulled himself up. The water slowly dropped to ankle level. He sloshed forward, waving his men through the door. “Remember, survivors first. Salvage second.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what they were going to find when they reached the cargo bay, but after the beating the GOA had taken he wasn’t sure how any of the aircraft or other vehicles could have survived, especially at that end of the sub. He’d overheard the initial damage reports, and from the sounds of them, Compartments 4 and 5 were a total loss. Everyone stuck behind those steel doors was toast. Engineering would have suffered the same fate if it weren’t for Irene’s quick action. She’d sealed the section off swiftly.

Diego watched the beams from a half dozen lights penetrate the dark passage beyond. They swept over the hallway, several of them stopping on the outline of a woman. Her arms and legs were all twisted in different directions.

“We got a body,” the lead scout said. He bent down and checked for vital signs. “She’s gone,” he said, moving on.

Diego looked down at her mangled body. The current had taken her by surprise, but she’d somehow managed to grab hold of some metal mesh netting. His heart skipped at the sight. Even in the end, when all seemed lost, humans fought to survive; it was ingrained in their DNA. And it was why Diego believed they would survive the Organics.

Bending down he pulled a curtain of hair out of her face. It was Lilly, one of the engineers. She was far from her station—must have been trying to get there, Diego thought. He closed her eyelids with an armored finger and moved on.

The deeper they went, the more bodies they discovered. All of them had suffered blunt force trauma or broken necks. Some had likely drowned. He imagined the crew had had little time to seek safety. None of them were wearing harnesses.

“Sir,” a voice crackled over the channel.

Diego looked down the hallway, his light splitting through the darkness. Two of his men were crouched next to a body.

“We have a survivor.”

Diego rushed toward them, his boots splashing through the water. “Medic!”

“On my way,” Xavier replied. He wasn’t really the team’s medic, but Molly, their main doctor, had been severely injured during the accident.

When Diego got to the end of the corridor his men were working on propping the injured woman up against the wall. She was conscious, barely. He couldn’t make out the undecipherable noises coming from her mouth.

“She’s hurt, bad,” one of the men said. He dipped his helmet and the light illuminated her legs. They were both broken, the right one severely.

Diego turned to Xavier. “Get her on a stretcher and take her to Medical. We’ll continue to the cargo bay.”

Xavier nodded and tilted his visor toward the woman. He hesitated before bending down next to her, as though unsure of himself.

She whimpered in pain.

“Can you do that?” Diego asked.

“Yes,” Xavier replied without turning.

The response was convincing enough, and Diego followed the others to the hatch marked Compartment 7. When he got to the door, he hailed Irene. “What’s beyond this one?”

“My sensors are detecting damage inside the cargo bay, but I’m unable to determine if it’s been flooded.”

“Great,” Diego said. He tapped on the door with his armored hand. The sound of metal on metal echoed down the hallway.

“What do you think, fellas?” he craned his helmet to look at Jed, Colin, and Mike. They all shrugged.

“That’s kind of how I feel, too,” he replied. “Better hold on to something,” he said. Reaching for the circular handle, he twisted it and closed his eyes, preparing for a wall of water to come crashing down on them.

The hatch popped open and they were greeted only with silence. Diego cracked one eye open, his beam illuminating the dry cargo bay. It hadn’t been flooded at all. He let out a sigh of relief.

Sweeping his light across the room, his heart jumped. Inside, the corpses of aircraft and vehicles lay scattered across the floor. He scanned the destruction with disbelief until his gaze stopped on the Sea Serpent.

The gunship stood where they had left it, the frame mostly undamaged, protected by a metal mesh net that had saved it from the shrapnel of the other destroyed vehicles.

He chinned his com, activating a channel to the bridge. “Captain Noble, I think you better see this.”

“What do you have, Diego . . . ?” The captain paused. He was seeing what they were seeing through the team’s helmet-mounted cams.

“We’re still in business,” Noble choked. “That bird is indestructible.”

Diego didn’t reply. He was too busy looking at the rest of the compartment, wondering how they would ever be able to fight an offensive against the Organics now.

CHAPTER 13

HOLDING his breath, Emanuel crossed the room. With a sample of Sophie’s blood in hand he felt like he was holding the most important sample in the world. If she was infected with the alien nanobots, then . . . Well, he wasn’t sure what they would do.

He glanced over at her sleeping profile, the MindTec still hiding her face behind its white plastic arches. It was hard to believe she wasn’t compromised—that her irrational behavior and her thoughts were just part of a state of depression or anxiety.

There was little doubt in Emanuel’s mind that the sample he was carrying would show the same thing that Smith’s had. She was infected. Just how badly was the real question.

“Alexia, prepare for scan.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she replied.

He felt Holly’s hand on his shoulder.

“You ready?” he asked her.

She wiped another tear from her eye and then gave him an unsure half frown. Emanuel motioned toward the chair next to the dual monitors with his free hand. Then he moved to the electron microscope and slid the small tray of Sophie’s blood inside.

He pressed his eye against the machine, too impatient to wait for the image to transfer to the monitors.

“What do you see?” Holly quickly asked.

There it was.

Small, peppercorn-shaped nanobots floated freely. Emanuel zoomed in, still holding his breath. They were like those he’d found in Smith’s blood, but slightly different. Unlike those in Smith’s blood, Sophie’s did not have the same tentacle strands extending from the ends of the nanobots.

“Well?” Holly asked.

He pulled away from the device and looked at the AI console. “What do you make of this, Alexia?”

“Doctor Winston does not appear to have the severe case that Lieutenant Smith is suffering from. I’d hypothesize that the nanobots are replicating very slowly. The bots don’t appear to carry the electrical current.”

“Yet,” Emanuel said.

Holly put her hands on her flushed cheeks. “So if Sophie goes outside, then the alien technology will take over her body?”

“Their rate of reproduction would likely increase exponentially,” Alexia replied. “As you may remember, the nanobots in Smith’s sample all held charges. They were weak, but they appeared to be searching for something.”

Emanuel pressed his eye back against the microscope. The cluster of bots moved lethargically. The observation gave him a moment of hope, a snapshot of an emotion that he’d learned to suppress whenever it surfaced.

“Alexia, why aren’t the bots replicating?” Emanuel asked.

“Well,” Alexia replied, “I would argue the nanobots function in several ways. First, the water removal: the orbs, the poles at the human farms, they all seem to remove water through this alien nanotechnology. Second, they all seem to hold an electrical charge, a charge fueled by the surge, which is then conducted through the Organics’ limbs to form a shield.”

“Sounds correct to me,” Emanuel replied. “But your earlier scans didn’t detect the bots removing any water from Smith. So what is their purpose in the human body?”

“Inconclusive, Doctor.”

Emanuel grunted with frustration. “We know one thing. It’s killing Smith.” He lowered his voice and turned to look at the marine.

“So what are we going to do?” Holly asked. She paced back and forth across the room nervously.

He reached for Holly’s hands and squeezed them softly. “It’s going to be okay. I have an idea.”

He saw a desperate look in her eyes, pleading for good news. Only this time he couldn’t lie.

Emanuel moved back to the monitor, his feet slow and heavy. “Alexia, is there a way to shut off the nanotech without causing further harm to the human cells?”

“Perhaps,” Alexia replied, “but that would require medical equipment we don’t have.”

Emanuel ran a hand through his hair. “So the only option we have is to zap Smith and Sophie with the RVAMP and hope it kills just the nanobots and not them?”

“I see no other option, Doctor,” Alexia replied.

Holly’s face drained of its color. In a soft voice she said, “What if it kills them?”

“I’m afraid it will kill them either way,” Emanuel said gravely. Walking over to Sophie’s bedside, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. They had no other choice. They had to try and save her.

Emanuel ran his index finger across Sophie’s cheek and watched her sleep. She looked peaceful, a small comfort after all she’d experienced. He rubbed his eyes and said, “We should try and get some sleep.”

Holly exhaled audibly. “I sure could use some.” She reached over and squeezed Emanuel’s hand one more time and said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing all of this for Sophie.”

He managed a smile, “Meet me back here at seven AM. We’ll run this by Sophie when she wakes. After all, it’s her decision.”

She nodded and crossed the room, stopping in the doorway. “Alexia. Please look after Sophie.”

“Certainly, Doctor Brown. Goodnight.”

Leaning over Sophie, Emanuel kissed her softly on the forehead in the gap between the plastic MindTec arches.

“Goodnight,” he whispered into her ear.

He hesitated before leaving the room. Something didn’t feel quite right. It lasted only a few seconds, and a quick scan of the room revealed nothing. Smith and Sophie were both fast asleep, their eyelids closed.

Shrugging the paranoia off, Emanuel was moving toward the exit when he suddenly felt as if he was being observed. When he turned, he could have sworn Smith’s eyes were open. He froze, focusing on her profile, but saw nothing to indicate she was conscious. With a yawn, he pulled Smith’s blanket up to her neck and then walked out of the room.

Lieutenant Smith peeled back an eyelid. She watched the bearded man leave the room. A moment later a tingling began working its way through her body.

Her toes moved first. Then her right leg, and then both of her legs. Before she knew what was happening she sat up, her gaze sweeping the room. She focused on two dual monitors above the main terminal. She noted the wall cameras above the displays, one of which had settled on her, studying her, as she was studying it.

She sprang to her feet and sprinted to the monitor. Her hands shot out and typed on the keyboard. A screen she didn’t recognize emerged.

AI MAINFRAME

Smith’s fingers danced across the keyboard, typing commands she didn’t understand. The involuntary action prompted the calm robotic voice she’d heard before.

“What are you doing, Lieutenant Smith?” Alexia asked.

Smith ignored her.

New data rolled across the display.

WARNING—COMMAND WILL SHUT DOWN AI

DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?

Smith watched her right index finger hover over the Enter key. She pushed down.

AI WILL SHUT DOWN IN T MINUS 15 SECONDS . . .

DO YOU STILL WISH TO PROCEED?

She suddenly felt a presence to her right. Alexia’s face had emerged above the console. “Please do not proceed any further. I will be forced to take severe measures. This is your only warning.”

Smith’s lips parted into a sadistic smile. She felt powerful. Without further hesitation she hit the Enter key again, and the AI’s translucent image faded away.

Turning, the marine rushed across the room to the exit. The time had finally come to return to the blue ones, the architects. She twisted the door handle and slipped into the darkness.

Holding his arm, Captain Noble returned to the CIC from the medical bay. The swelling had gone down, but it was still sore to the touch. The scene in front of him instilled a different type of pain, a mental anguish that was far worse than any torn muscle or ligament.

The smoke had cleared and most of the systems were already back online, but the damage was severe. Noble reflected on words his father had said the night he had died.

Every commander will regret an order over the course of their career. The test of a true leader is how they recover from that decision and what they learn from their mistake.

Depends on how big the mistake is, Noble mused, scanning the CIC. How many had died because of his decision? How many more would die now that the GOA was damaged? The ripple effect was extensive.

Leaders were rarely allowed the luxury of a second chance during a time of war. He’d had more than his share of them. Like those stories he’d grown up listening to about soldiers surviving countless bullet wounds. But he wasn’t sure he deserved the same luxury.

The crackle of white noise over the PA system snapped him from his thoughts.

“Captain, we have casualty reports coming in from the med bay,” Irene said.

“Go ahead,” Noble said with reservation.

“Twelve dead, and thirty-four wounded, sir.”

His gaze dropped to the floor, numbness prickling down his body. The reports were worse than he thought. Over half of his crew dead or wounded.

“Damage was severe. Engines 1 and 2 are still offline, but I’ve been able to reroute power to Engines 3 and 4. They are both fully operational,” Irene said. “Compartments 4 and 5 were purged of water and sealed. I also cleared Compartment 6. All systems are back online.”

“What about the cargo bay?” Noble asked. “Were crews able to salvage anything besides the Sea Serpent?”

“Aye, sir. Engineering believes they will be able to restore some of the vehicles and one of the gunships.”

“How about the drones?”

“Only one left.”

Goddammit, Noble thought. “Tell Ort I want to see him when he has a moment.”

The wheels from a stretcher clanked over the metal grid tiles on the top floor of the bridge. A pair of medics pushed the last body across the platform. Noble watched them struggle to get the wide cart through the glass doors.

“Move your end to the right,” one of the men said. With a grunt he shoved the bed. The edge clipped the door and the deceased’s hand flopped over the side.

Noble saw a thick gold ring sparkle under the bank of LED lights. His stomach sank; below the white sheets lay the body of his XO. He bowed his head, forcing himself to look away.

Behind him Athena cleared her throat and put her hand on his shoulder. “Sir, are you okay?” Her touch was comforting, and for a moment he let himself enjoy the unfamiliar sensation.

Her hand slid away. “Sir, I’d like you to look at something.”

She continued to talk as they walked across the bridge to her station. “When Irene rerouted power, I noticed something.”

Noble raised a brow as they arrived at Athena’s terminal. The left monitor displayed the map of the Biospheres Dr. Hoffman had constructed across the globe. His stomach churned for a second time in as many minutes when he saw all the lights had gone dark. Cheyenne Mountain was offline.

“This can’t be right,” he mumbled, sitting down in her chair for a better look.

“That’s what I thought, but I already checked with Trish. She can’t get a signal from them.”

Noble stood and looked for his communications officer. Near the front of the room, from which the rows of monitors were separated by a middle passage, he saw the profiles of three crew members huddled around the main display. They spoke in a hushed whisper with a maintenance worker in a red pair of coveralls.

“Trish,” he shouted, waving her toward him.

Trish’s freckled face emerged from the group a few seconds later. “Sir,” she said.

“What do you make of this?” he asked, gesturing toward the Biosphere map.

The young officer leaned over and punched a code into the terminal. The screen flickered and a diagnostic report emerged.

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN . . .

UTM COORDINATES . . .

LAST CONTACT . . .

0745 HOURS . . .

“The last signal picked up from the Biosphere was thirty minutes ago,” Trish replied. “Usually the signal is continuous.”

Noble resisted the urge to scratch his chin. He looked up, toward the front of the room. Travis and Reggie were glaring at him. When they noticed he was staring, they turned back to the maintenance worker.

“Could this be from interference?” Athena asked.

“Unlikely,” Trish replied. “We haven’t had any since the invasion. When those lights go out”—she pointed at the map and then ran a finger across her neck— “it means something catastrophic has occurred at the Biosphere.”

Noble had heard enough. “Irene!” he shouted.

One of the remaining speakers in the corner of the room crackled. “Yes, Captain.”

He paused to consider his next command, giving himself an order first. Maintain your focus. You are no good to your crew without your level head. He remembered his father’s words:

Will you run from the horsemen, or will you fight?

But the horsemen weren’t human. There wasn’t a manual that he could consult to determine their next move. After losing the X-9, the only allies he had left in the world were Dr. Sophie Winston and her team at Cheyenne Mountain.

In the world.

Noble thought about that, sweeping two fingers across his jawline, from one side to the other and back again. The answer was clear to him. He had to know what happened at Cheyenne Mountain. “Irene,” he said firmly. “You’re my new XO.”

“Aye aye, sir,” she replied.

“Your first order . . .”

The room went silent. Even the red-suited maintenance worker paused in anticipation.

“I want to send our remaining drone to Cheyenne Mountain to try and reestablish contact,” he said.

“What?” Trish replied. “You’re kidding, sir.” She suddenly looked away, as though ashamed of losing her self-control.

Noble folded his arms and raised his voice. Loud enough to remind Trish he was still in charge.

“Doctor Rodriguez provided us with the weapon that could end this war. I made a promise when I was at Cheyenne Mountain. I told them I wouldn’t abandon them.”

Trish crinkled her nose. “Sir, with all due respect, sending out our last drone is senseless. A waste of precious resources.”

Another voice chimed in. “I’m with the captain,” Athena blurted. “There has to be some explanation,” she said, her voice almost pleading for an answer. “What if the Biosphere team needs our help? They may be our last connection to the outside world.”

Trish sighed deeply. “There is an explanation,” she said. “Everyone there is dead.”

CHAPTER 14

THE sun rose over the desolate Martian landscape. Rays of intense light carpeted the cracked ground, spreading slowly over the valley below. Sophie walked along the edge of the great Valles Marineris, watching the sun chase away the shadows of the night far below her. The rocky bottom quickly filled with light, as if a dam had burst.

She took a step closer to the ridge. The view took her breath away. And knowing parts of the rift were four miles deep left her in awe. There simply wasn’t anything on Earth that compared to the vastness of Valles Marineris. It made the Grand Canyon look like a crack in the ground.

Wind lashed at her armored suit. She braced herself by planting her right foot firmly in the sand. The view no longer looked as magnificent as it had a few moments earlier.

After retreating a safe distance, Sophie paused to wonder exactly how she had gotten there. She looked down at her gloved hands and then touched the glass visor on her helmet.

Was she dreaming again? The last thing she remembered was the medical bay and Emanuel telling her everything would be okay.

But everything wasn’t okay. She was back on Mars. And she knew it wasn’t real.

She cursed as another gust of wind peppered her with sand, throwing her off balance. She dropped to her knees, sliding several feet back to the ledge. The rocky bottom of the valley was a blur of shapes.

She closed her eyes and pleaded with her mind. “Please wake up, please.” Anger prickled inside her. She was tired—tired of being stuck in a perpetual state of dreaming, not being able to differentiate what was real from what wasn’t.

When her eyes snapped open the sky had changed. A storm was brewing in the distance; reds and oranges blending together to form a fiery, vicious-looking cloud. Palming the ground, she pushed herself to her feet as her survival instincts kicked in. Battling the wind, she looked for a place to hide. Her first scan of the bleak landscape revealed nothing.

She took a deep breath. The filtered oxygen filled her lungs. She released it, her hot breath fogging the inside of her visor.

The dreams always seemed so real.

And so did the storm howling in the distance.

I want to wake up, she thought again. Sophie had never once in her life felt sorry for herself. She didn’t believe anyone could get anywhere with self-pity. Yet she found herself wondering, Why me?

She quickly shook the thought away. More wind hissed by. Flinching, she dashed to her right, bracing herself against the bombardment of rock and sand. A pebble chipped her visor. The tiny crack, hardly visible to the naked eye, reminded her of how dangerous the surface of Mars actually was. A single mistake could get her killed.

She looked past the chip and searched the horizon for any sign of refuge. A few hundred yards to the north, the valley disappeared behind a steep hill. She worked her way through the wind, dropping to her hands and knees when she reached the embankment. Then she carefully moved up the path as loose rocks cascaded behind her, the sound masked by the wailing storm.

Reaching the top, she received her reward. A perfect vantage point of the entire valley. For the second time she held her breath in awe. This time not at the beauty of her surroundings but at the sight of the red cloud growing on the horizon. Forcing herself to look away, she scanned the landscape below. There, about five hundred yards out at twelve o’clock, she noticed an outcropping. But there was something odd about the white boulders. They looked alien against the desolate landscape.

She pushed on, sliding down the backside of the incline. With her every labored step the wind grew in ferocity. Sophie struggled through the relentless wind, her focus on one of the white rocks. As she got closer she saw that it was no rock at all. It was a structure that looked like a massive satellite. She knew right away the building wasn’t made to communicate; it was designed to terraform the surface.

To the east were smaller structures tucked neatly inside white walls a story high, which wrapped around the circumference of the circular-shaped facility.

“The NTC colony,” Sophie gasped.

She halted, bringing her hand to her visor to shield her eyes from the sun. It was smaller than she’d imagined it would be, only a fraction of the size she’d pictured. There was simply no way it was built to house tens of thousands of people.

The eastern side of the colony consisted of two dozen buildings, all connected by an aboveground tunnel. Solar farm panels covered the western edge. An oddly shaped glass silo towered above the center of the base. She watched as a white wall rose out of the ground to protect the building from the storm, wrapping around the structure like skin.

Sophie continued on, panting inside her helmet. Deep breaths. The storm was barreling down behind her. She pushed harder, her legs burning with every step. A powerful wind threw her off balance. Her right foot slid on a loose rock and she stumbled toward the edge of the valley. Numbness warmed her body and the feeling of weightlessness gripped her. After a few seconds the sensation passed and she moved on.

The thought of waking up no longer seemed important. She only cared about making it to the colony, to see the NTC technology and the survivors.

Through her visor she could see an open gate at the back end of the base. The storm was nearly above her now, and she closed her eyes and ran.

Almost.

Deep breath.

There.

The storm shook the ground, but she held strong, focusing on her breathing. Risking a glance over her shoulder. A fiery cloud of dust a mile wide swallowed the landscape. And it was moving fast. In seconds, she, too, would be swallowed up.

When she turned back to the gate her heart sank. The doors were beginning to close.

Sophie reached out toward it, yelling “Wait!”

Her voice faded in the storm. She stumbled forward, her fingers just inches away from the metal doors as they slammed shut.

She collapsed to her knees. In a fit of rage she pounded the metal with her fists. “Let me in!”

Her voice sounded distant, lost in the deafening roar of the storm. Tremors shook the ground beneath her. A tidal wave of dust smashed into her armor, sending her topsy-turvy through the air, right over the edge of Valles Marineris. For a moment the world was in slow motion. She sailed over the valley with her arms spread out like wings and then she fell down, down into the black abyss.

Thrashing through the air, Sophie tried to focus on the bottom as she tumbled head over feet, but the light didn’t penetrate the darkness. Her body went numb from the icy tingle rushing through it. In that moment she wondered how long it would take to fall four miles.

Minutes? Seconds? She could probably do the calculation if she could get her brain to cooperate.

She attempted to reposition her center of mass, falling facedown and spreading her arms and legs out. Her heart rate increased as she fell. The air howled through the speakers in her helmet, the air whistling past her armor.

Sophie’s stomach turned.

After seconds of free fall, she could finally begin to make out the bottom. Some light had managed to trickle in after all. The ground raced toward her.

Would she feel anything at all when she hit?

She knew the impact wouldn’t kill her, if anything, she’d snap out of her dream. She focused on the jagged rocks protruding from the canyon floor like hundreds of sharp teeth. And then she noticed something else—a color that didn’t seem to belong; a color she knew.

The cool blue glow of the Organics filled the valley below her. Sunlight hadn’t penetrated the darkness at all. This light came from a different source. An alien source. She was entering their lair.

“No!” she yelled as the Martian floor came into view.

There were hundreds of them. Spiders mostly, moving amongst the rocky outcroppings, in and out of holes. She plummeted toward the creatures, her hands stretched out, shielding her from the imminent impact.

Before she had a chance to consider what any of it meant, she crashed into the rocks and everything went dark.

Her eyes snapped open in the medical ward. She was awake now. At least she thought she was. To her right a figure stood facing the dual monitors at the main terminal. But even in the darkness she could tell this was someone else’s profile—someone frail and gaunt.

The light from the display shifted and illuminated Smith’s sunken face. She wore a sinister grin.

What the hell was she doing?

Sophie struggled to move, to read the screen.

The marine stepped away from the monitor and glanced over at her. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second. And then, like a ghost, she was gone.

Sophie wanted to shout for help, but the words wouldn’t come out. For the first time since her terrifying dreams had started she wished she were still asleep.

Lieutenant Smith navigated the biosphere’s passages with ease. She paused only for a moment when she saw two men sleeping on the floor of one of the small rooms. Somewhere in the back of her mind they seemed vaguely familiar, but the feeling quickly passed as she made her way through the passage from the personnel quarters to the dark mess hall. There were no bright emergency LEDs to guide her, only the dim neon signs that marked each biome. She stumbled around a table and made her way to the wall, following it with her fingers to the red 2.

With the power off, she forced the biome’s doors open. They cracked apart with relative ease and she slipped through the gap, moving silently into the next corridor. She passed the pond and then crossed into Biome 1.

The faint smell of oranges, a smell she’d always loved, didn’t slow her down.

She moved with purpose, trampling the fresh fruits and vegetables as she made her way to the final set of doors. Prying them open, she darted out of the biosphere and into the darkness of a tunnel, one step closer to rejoining the architects.

Jeff woke up gripping his rifle. He lifted his face, a trail of drool cobwebbing off the sorry excuse for a pillow. Times like these really made him miss the old world. Video games, pizza, his friends and, of course, his dad.

He rolled to his side. He no longer felt tired, and decided to focus on the sounds of the biosphere. Sometimes they helped him fall asleep at night—the hum of the filtration system or the chirp of a distant sensor from Alexia’s system. They made him feel safe.

Only tonight he couldn’t hear anything; the room was silent aside from Bouma’s snoring.

He sat up. The hallway looked unusually dark. There were no flashes from the emergency LEDs or even the customary red blink from one of Alexia’s cameras.

Something was wrong. He grabbed the rifle and crept to his brother’s neighboring bed.

“David. Wake up.”

The small boy stirred and sat up.

“I can’t see anything,” David said. “Where are you?”

Jeff grabbed a flashlight off his bedside table and clicked it on. A beam cut through the darkness. He focused the light on the floor so David could see and then said, “Come here.”

Together the two snuck past the sleeping marines.

“Why’s it so dark?” David asked.

Jeff shook his head and swept the light across the hallway. “I don’t know, bud, but I think we should wake the others.”

“What’s going on?” Bouma said from behind them.

Jeff moved back into the doorway. “I’m not sure, but you guys better get up. Something’s not right. Something’s not right at all.”

Smith walked out onto the tarmac, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight. Beyond the valley, the skyscrapers of some city dotted the skyline. Below, a blue mist moved between buildings. Crawling through the streets were thousands of alien creatures moving west, their shrieks tearing through the night.

The sound filled her with great satisfaction.

Smith stood there, her back stiff and her bony arms at her sides, and watched a pack of the Spiders veer off from the main herd. They scampered up a hill, their high joints clicking as their claws dug into the dry earth and kicked up small dust clouds. A larger creature with a reptilian tail followed them as they climbed.

Behind her, the wind whistled past the biosphere’s entrance. She’d rerouted auxiliary power to the hydraulic system, effectively opening the blast doors. The pack of aliens could easily access the facility now.

She felt the same satisfaction that the shrieks gave her when she saw the first Spider jump onto the tarmac. Tilting its head, the creature watched her. Smith mimicked the movement. The alien responded by opening its mandibles and releasing one of its musical shrieks. Then it moved on.

Smith smiled.

The other Organics ignored her as well, crossing the tarmac and entering the tunnels that led to the biosphere.

She watched their blue glow fade in the tunnel; and then turned to the main herd working its way through the city, waiting for whatever reward came next.

The wait wasn’t long. When the last of the aliens had disappeared over the horizon, an intense wave of energy jolted through her body. Smith twisted, jerked, and shook violently; foam bubbled from her mouth.

The alien nanotechnology in her bloodstream silently self-destructed, exploding in microscopic bursts. In seconds it was over. She collapsed to the ground dead, her eyes open, staring over the horizon—her smile still streaking across her face.

CHAPTER 15

BLAKE Ort rolled his right sleeve up just shy of the bandage wrapped around his elbow. Then, with careful precision, he folded the cuff neatly over the dressing. He winced as another wave of pain ran down his arm.

Behind him a team of maintenance workers hustled to clear the wreckage of the destroyed vehicles littered across the floor. The crew, all dressed in light red coveralls, reminded Ort of fire ants, working together toward one common goal.

He watched one of the older guys pulling a long rotor across the ground. The man stopped to wipe the sweat off his forehead and then continued, panting as he hauled it to a pile at the far end of the room.

Cursing, Ort returned to his work. He dropped to one knee and then to his stomach, crawling under the belly of the last intact drone. The yellow hazard lights blinking on the cargo bay floor gave him enough light to see what he was after.

Hanging from the bottom of the craft by two metal straps was the new and improved RVAMP, enclosed in a metal case that made it look kind of like a robotic egg.

He squirmed closer to the weapon. Reaching up with a drill, he loosened the bolts. Then, very carefully, he snapped open the latch on the case and pulled the weapon out with both hands. For a moment he held it there like a trophy, before wiggling out from under the drone with the device tucked against his chest.

Cupping the RVAMP carefully in his hands, he stood and looked at the drone’s sleek profile. The small but powerful weapon he held could change the course of the war. The problem was finding a way to deliver the payload.

Noble’s decision to send their last remaining drone to Cheyenne Mountain seemed even crazier now. An inane misuse of a precious resource, Ort thought, grunting as he placed the RVAMP on a table.

He’d always liked the captain, but like most of the crew, Ort knew the team at the Biosphere were all likely dead. Even if they weren’t dead, how would sending the GOA’s one remaining drone help improve their situation?

Ort shook his head. He didn’t know what it was like to command a crew of one hundred men and women—especially during a time of war or, in their case, the end of the world. But the captain had led them this far without getting them all killed. He would give the man the benefit of the doubt, even if the plan sounded mad.

The engineer hurried to the single monitor over a community desk. “Irene, online.”

The AI’s face flickered over the console to the right of the display. Her glasses were perched high on her nose. “Yes, Blake,” she said.

It was odd hearing his first name. The crew had always referred to him as Ort.

“I’ve repaired the drone and removed the RVAMP. However, due to the damage it sustained, I’d like you to do a diagnostic check. I’ve already plugged your interface into the machine.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

He turned to face the monitor. Several lines of data raced across the screen. A mixture of numbers and letters, nothing he recognized.

They stopped a moment later and Irene paused, as if she was digesting the information.

“The J198 has suffered some internal damage to its backup electronic system. Engines 1 and 2 are both fully operational, but Engine 3 is only operating at sixty-four percent.”

“So I can be confident when I tell the captain that she will make it to Colorado Springs?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Good,” Ort replied. He stepped away from the monitor and moved back to the RVAMP lying on the table.

He examined it as any creator would, with awe and satisfaction. The gray tube was only about two feet long and six inches wide. He’d designed the weapon utilizing the blueprints Dr. Rodriguez had provided Captain Noble; only Ort had taken them a step further. The new design upped the output considerably, allowing the pulse to travel even farther. He hadn’t stopped there, however, knowing, after his conversation with the captain, that the Organics’ ships would likely have stronger force fields than the grunt aliens on the ground. So he’d increased the electrical magnetic output. The newer RVAMP not only worked over a larger distance, it packed a much more powerful punch.

For that reason he’d named it Redemption.

If they could pilot one of the weapons within a limited distance of the alien crafts, they would be able to blast them out of the sky. He had no doubt about it.

He ran his fingers over the tube. Amazing, he thought, that such a small weapon could be so powerful.

“Redemption,” he said with confidence, “You better be everything I think you are.”

Captain Noble plopped into the chair at the head of the conference table. He leaned backward, placing his hands behind his head before sucking in a long, steady breath. Within minutes his remaining staff would join him.

He still couldn’t believe the message that Irene had decoded a few minutes before. It was from Cheyenne Mountain, sent just hours before they went offline. He listened to it again.

“This is AI Alexia, reporting from Cheyenne Mountain. At 0445 hours we retrieved data from Lolo revealing seven UTM coordinates strategically placed at the highest summits in the world. As you can see, all of these alien structures are similar in design. Lolo measured the pulse wavelength at 43º 21´18˝ North, 42º 26´ 21˝ East. The results indicate that the poles conduct and sustain the surge, which comes in two-hour intervals. In theory, if one of the poles is destroyed in that small window of time, then the circuit will be broken and the surge won’t be sustained. The Organics will be shieldless until the next surge hits.”

Noble froze the message. The Biosphere had given them the most important gift of the war—a map with actual targets that, if destroyed, could end the invasion. It was a soldier’s wet dream and Noble’s duty to blast the alien poles into oblivion.

He leaned farther back in his chair, anxious for his staff to join him. It had been a long road. They’d been through the wringer together. And they’d all lost so many loved ones. He thought of his wife and daughters, unable to picture their faces. Had it really been that long since he’d seen them?

He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember as the door to the conference room opened. Athena, Trish, Ort, and Diego filtered in. The sight of the remaining members of his executive team reminded him of how many they had lost.

“Captain,” they each said in passing.

He nodded and sat straighter in the plush chair. His new plan would avenge all those they had lost. He’d gone over it a hundred times in his head. All he had to do now was convince everyone else that it would work.

Judging by Trish’s stone-faced look, he had his work cut out for him.

“Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs situated around the table. “I called you all here for several reasons. First, Ort has completed his design of the modified RVAMP.” Noble spied one of its tubes tucked under the engineer’s muscular arm.

“Second, I want to discuss sending the J198 to Cheyenne Mountain. Third, I’ve finished the plans for our final offensive against the Organics.” He extended his hands and leaned forward, knowing they all probably thought he was crazy. “But before we discuss anything I want to make a few remarks about what happened this morning.” He paused and looked at each of his crew one by one.

Besides Athena, the others all wore passive looks. Between the exhaustion, fear, and constant threat of the Organics, the journey had taken a severe toll on everyone.

Noble shook his head. “We’ve lost many of our friends and colleagues. And for that I’m sorry.”

The room was deathly silent. Noble continued. “Since we were informed of our mission to monitor the Biospheres I’ve tried to give orders that took into account the life, health, and safety of our crew, first and foremost. My order to hold our course near the water collection ships failed you all in that regard.”

“The aliens found us, sir. It was just a matter of time,” Athena said.

He held up his hand. “Please let me finish.”

She nodded and slouched a bit farther down in her chair.

“The world is dying. We’ve watched the ocean draining around us. The Organics are migrating to the shores and the Biosphere team believed they are preparing to leave.” Noble paused, realizing he’d spoken of them in the past tense. Subconsciously he knew, as did everyone else in the room, that the team was likely dead. That didn’t mean they had died in vain, though. They had provided Noble’s crew with the ultimate gift.

He sighed and said, “We’ve run out of time. There are no Biospheres left to monitor, and I’ve decided not to send the J198 to Cheyenne Mountain. Even if there are survivors, there isn’t anything we can do for them.”

Athena shot back up in her chair.

He continued before she could interrupt him again. “So, you’re all probably wondering what my final plans are. I’ve hinted at them before. Whatever we do needs to be big. With the X-9 gone, Offutt deserted, and Cheyenne Mountain offline we are forced to lead an offensive by ourselves. But I’m confident it can be done. That we can defeat the Organics,” he said. “I know what you’re all wondering. How can we achieve victory?”

Noble gestured to Ort and the tube lying on the table in front of him. “I’d like you to explain how the modified RVAMP works.”

“With pleasure, sir,” the engineer said, then stood and grabbed the device. “This is a part of Redemption. She’s one of a dozen that I’ve been working on. Attach her to any drone, jet, or high-altitude craft and she will bite the Organics in a way they never expected. She emits an electromagnetic pulse that has the same effect on their technology as theirs has on ours.” Ort clapped his hands together and then extended them in a wide arch, mouthing the word Boom.

Noble cut in. “We know the ships and the alien surface grunts are all powered by an electromagnetic disturbance called the surge. Ideally, we would focus on finding an off switch, but it’s located on Mars. So, we might have another solution. Alexia made a very important discovery just hours ago.”

He stood and pushed his chair under the table. Then he walked over to the AI console and said, “Irene, bring up a map.”

The overhead LEDs dimmed and a hologram of the world emerged over her interface. “There,” Noble said, pointing. “Lolo discovered seven skyscraper-size poles, all strategically located at the world’s highest summits.”

Hushed chatter broke out around him. He continued before they started asking questions.

“Cheyenne Mountain believed that these poles, or whatever they are, conduct the surge. We now know that the surge comes in two-hour intervals, so, theoretically, if we knock a pole down before the surge can reconnect, we shut down their entire network. Their ships will lose power, the aliens on the ground will lose their shields, and the Organics’ empire will crumble,” he said with authority.

“Holy shit,” Diego said.

“Excellent,” Athena added.

“Wait,” Trish said. She closed her eyes and cupped her hands over her head. “I’m trying to wrap my mind around this. So if we take down one of the poles, the surge will shut down entirely? What if you’re wrong? What if the surge just can’t reconnect in that zone? What if it only kills the Organics within the radius of that individual pole?”

“Then it’s a good start,” Noble said. He rubbed an ache forming under his forehead and then remarked, “And we keep trying to take down the others.”

Athena’s lips twisted. She looked unconvinced, and so did Ort.

“Lights, Irene,” Noble said, turning back to the table. “What other questions do you have?”

Diego raised his hand. “Don’t you think they’re guarded?”

“Highly likely,” Noble replied. “But all we need to do is get close. Right, Ort?” He shot the man a look that pleaded for confirmation.

The engineer shrugged. “I hope so.”

Noble felt the eyes of every person in the room on him, a burden he was accustomed to as captain.

“Obviously, the main problem is that, besides our last drone, the Sea Serpent is our only functioning aircraft. My plan is to take it to Offutt, have Diego’s team clear the base, secure the aircraft and drones our bot found, and then launch our offensive. As I said, in theory, we only need to take one pole down to succeed. But we can’t risk sending all the aircraft at Offutt to just one. I want to target all of them. Spread out our remaining resources. Diego’s team has three pilots left who are capable of flying X-90s, and Kirt can handle the drones from Offut.” He looked at his team for some sort of response.

“Well? Don’t any of you have anything to say?”

He crossed his arms and waited.

Athena scooted her chair closer to the table. “Sounds like suicide.”

“Not like we have many options left on the table,” Trish remarked.

“It’s the best I can come up with,” Noble replied. “I know it sounds like a long shot, but it’s all I have to work with.”

“Redemption will give your plan a shot,” Ort said confidently. He stroked the metal surface of his creation and smiled. “You have my support, sir.”

Diego chimed in. “You can count on me and my men.”

Noble nodded. “All right then. Irene, make the arrangements. Everyone else, let’s get moving.”

He turned his back to the crew and listened to them hustle out of the conference room, wondering again if he’d made the right decision.

CHAPTER 16

THERE weren’t many things that scared Jeff anymore. Over the past two months he’d grown accustomed to living on a planet infested with alien monsters. Even when they’d captured him and taken him to the human farm, he’d suppressed his fears. Two very important goals kept him fighting: to avenge his father’s death and to protect his little brother. Since their dad died, he’d felt empowered to take care of David. He was blood, and Jeff would do anything to protect him.

They’d stood in the dark hallway for several minutes now, waiting for Bouma and Kiel to gather the others. Jeff couldn’t see them, but he could hear the other children. Roused from a deep sleep, Jamie and Owen let out soft moans.

“What’s wrong?” David asked.

“Shhhh,” Jeff said. He felt for his brother’s hand and grabbed it, wishing he hadn’t given Bouma their flashlight.

Within minutes the team had gathered in the hallway. The stream of light danced across the corridor, penetrating the darkness of the mess hall.

The beam suddenly flickered.

“Shit,” Bouma said. “Losing its charge.” He tapped the end of the device against the wall, sending an echo vibrating through the Biosphere. As the sound faded a new one emerged—a faint shriek.

Jeff froze.

“Did you hear that?” someone asked.

Bouma waved the light like a sword through the air, scanning the shadows for the source. But Jeff already knew what it was.

The Organics had found them.

“Alexia, are you there?” Emanuel asked.

Jeff picked up on the growing panic in the scientist’s voice and gripped his brother’s hand tighter, his survival instinct kicking in.

They waited in silence. The AI did not respond.

Another screech startled the group. Jeff felt David fall to the floor as someone bumped into them.

“We need to hide!” Holly said.

Bouma turned the light on the group. His features were tense but gave no hint of fear. He looked calm. Composed.

Holly, on the other hand, was panicked. “They found us! We have to hide. Grab the kids. Let’s go!”

The corporal grabbed her hand and said, “Holly, I need you to get it together. For everyone,” he said, illuminating the frightened faces of Owen and Jamie.

She took a deep breath, her hands shaking at her sides.

“We need to get to the control room and grab the RVAMP,” Bouma said. He turned to Emanuel. “You take the kids and Holly to the medical ward. Get Alexia back online and lock the door.” He paused to look at the biologist. “Don’t come out until I tell you.”

Emanuel looked as if he was about to protest, but then grabbed Owen’s and Jamie’s hands, leading them down the hall away from the group.

“Kiel, you’re with me. David and Jeff, go with Holly,” Bouma said. He raised his light from the boys’ faces to hers and then said, “I love you.” She stepped toward him and wrapped him in a hug.

“Heck no, I’m going with you, Corporal. I want to fight!” Jeff blurted.

The man regarded him with a glance and then nodded. “Fine.”

Bouma massaged Holly’s back with several strokes. “It’s going to be okay.” Then he forced her away and said, “You need to go, now.”

Another scream echoed in the distance. Holly took David’s hand and pulled him away. He cried out in protest. “No, I want to stay with Jeff! Don’t take me away from him again!”

Jeff crouched in front of David. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be back in no time.”

David whimpered, “But I want to stay with you.”

Jeff shook his head. “You can’t, I have to go with the marines.”

Bouma concentrated his light on them as they heard another shriek. This one was closer. The aliens were getting deeper into the Biosphere.

David looked up at the corporal. “Is my brother a marine now?”

Bouma cracked a grin, revealing his crooked teeth in the dim light. “Sure, little man, Jeff’s a marine.”

Jeff watched his brother walk behind Holly, Bouma’s light guiding them until they had caught up with Emanuel and the other children. The eleven-year-old found the marine’s strength inspiring. Like Jeff’s dad, Bouma had never once backed down from a fight, and neither would Jeff. With a measured breath he followed Bouma toward the CIC. The time had finally come to fight.

Emanuel stumbled toward the fluorescent red light that marked the med bay. Without the beam from the flashlight he was forced to run his fingers along the wall, towing Owen with his other hand. He could feel his fingers slipping from his grip.

When they finally reached the door, Emanuel fumbled for the handle. The children sobbed next to him, their cries masked by the aliens’ sounds deep inside the Biosphere.

He found the metal knob and burst into the room, ushering the children in with a few motivating tugs. Inside he moved with his hands out in front like a shield. Holly and David followed him.

“We need lights,” she said.

“Working on it,” Emanuel replied. He tripped and fell into his desk, banging his right knee hard on the metal frame. He ignored the jolt of pain and felt the surface until he found his tablet. Relief washed over him when the device warmed to life, spreading a blue light over the room.

Emanuel’s eyes were instantly drawn to Sophie. She lay there asleep, her head still covered by the MindTec.

He rushed over to lock the door and saw Smith’s empty bed.

“Where the hell did she go?” he asked.

Holly was busy trying to calm the children in the other corner of the room and didn’t reply.

Securing the door, Emanuel hurried back to Sophie. She was shaking.

“Oh no,” he whispered, realizing what was happening.

With the power down, the RVM was offline. That’s how the aliens had found them. And if the RVM was offline, then the nanotechnology in Sophie’s blood would finally connect to the surge. The alien tech would have free rein over her body, duplicating and spreading before he could stop it.

Sophie would likely die.

If Bouma used the RVAMP it could kill her—if he didn’t, the aliens would kill everyone inside the Biosphere.

Emanuel felt helpless. He leaned over her bed and whispered in her ear, “Sophie, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered as if she was trying to open them. She let out a small moan, something that Emanuel couldn’t make out. He reached for her hand, cupped it in his. “Sophie, I need you to wake up.”

She whimpered, her eyelids peeling back just a crack.

Emanuel pleaded with her. “Sophie, please wake up.”

She brought a hand to her head, choking out, “What is it, Emanuel?”

He blinked, unsure if he’d heard her right. “Sophie?” He grabbed her right wrist and squeezed it softly.

“That hurts,” she protested. “Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Emanuel replied. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her eyes moved across the dark room, stopping on Holly and the kids. “Where did the lieutenant go? And what are they all doing in here?”

The answer came in the form of a long screech.

Sophie’s eyes widened and shot up to lock with Emanuel’s. “They’ve found us?”

He nodded.

“Please tell me this is a dream.”

He shook his head. “They’re coming.”

Corporal Bouma checked the magazine before jamming it home into his pulse rifle. Fifteen rounds. That was it. And without the electromagnetic pulse grenades he only had enough ammo to piss off the shielded aliens. They would need to use the RVAMP, even if it fried some of the Biosphere’s hardware. They had no choice.

“Shit,” he said. “Jeff, Kiel, what’s your ammo status?”

“Not good,” Kiel replied.

“Me either,” Jeff said.

Bouma looked over their shoulders, through the glass window of the CIC. The ghostly blue glow filled the adjacent hallway, spilling into the room.

Kiel and Jeff saw it at the same time. They shouldered their weapons.

Bouma glanced at the RVAMP lying on the middle work desk. “You know how to work this thing, Kiel?”

The smaller marine limped away from the window and nodded. “Yeah. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“Here they come!” Jeff shouted, his voice shaky. The boy took several steps back to join the marines.

Bouma reached for the RVAMP, spinning it on its side. Shrugging his rifle strap onto his shoulder, he leaned over and examined the device.

“You just push the green button,” Kiel said.

“It’s going to severely fuck up the hardware in this place,” Bouma replied. “But it’s either that or we all die.” He exchanged looks with Kiel and then Jeff.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Weeks ago he would have been afraid, but now fear had evolved into something else—anger. He hated the aliens more than any enemy he’d ever faced, and he was not going to let them get to Holly or the kids.

Bouma grabbed the device and cradled it against his chest, watching one of the Spiders emerge in the hallway beyond. Like an apparition, it seemed to hover in a blue mist. His heart fluttered as the Spider tilted its head in his direction.

Not daring to move, Bouma waited, the cold of the RVAMP’s steel leaking through his shirt. In the blink of an eye, the creature’s mandibles parted and unleashed an enraged cry. Then, the alien began barreling down the passage toward him.

The marine knew what came next. Screeching, scratching, and then . . .

Death.

He reached for the green button. He would wait until the Spiders were all inside. Then he was going to fry them. Fry them all.

Emanuel knew they were running out of time. He had to tell Sophie before Bouma used the RVAMP. But how did you tell someone they only had minutes, seconds, to live? He studied her face. He didn’t even know where to begin.

“How did they find us?” Sophie asked, trembling in her bed.

“I don’t know,” Emanuel replied. He lowered his voice so the children wouldn’t hear him. “You’re infected. With the alien nanobots. The same kind that Smith has in her system.”

Sophie didn’t react exactly as Emanuel thought she would. She was still.

He waved his hand in front of her eyes.

She took a deep breath and said, “We don’t have much time, do we?”

He cringed at the statement. Not just because she was right, but because she was brilliant and knew exactly what the implications of infection meant, especially now. He replied simply, choking on the word so it came out in a slur. “No.”

She reached for her head. “I feel a tingling. All through my body. And my head . . .” She paused to claw at some invisible force inside her skull. “This migraine. It’s pulsating. I feel like my head’s going to explode. There’s this humming sound, too. It won’t . . .”

Emanuel reached for her hand, cupping it in his own. “Let’s get this thing off you,” he said. Together they removed the MindTec.

Sophie shook again, curling up into a fetal position.

Without the RVM to stop them, the nanobots were connecting to the invisible surge. He wasn’t sure how long she had before they would take over her body.

A sudden spasm took hold of Sophie and she flopped onto the bed.

“Holly!” Emanuel yelled. “Come help me hold her.” He leaned over and held Sophie’s shoulders down as Holly reached for her feet.

“Oh my god, what’s happening?”

The distant crack of automatic gunfire erupted from the open doorway. The children ducked to the ground, wailing in fear. Emanuel glanced at them and saw Alexia’s interface, remembering he still hadn’t brought her back online.

Everything was happening so fast. He had lost control.

Another volley of gunshots rang out, followed by the children’s screams. Holly whispered something to Sophie that Emanuel couldn’t make out from the foot of the bed.

Sophie struggled under his grip and then stiffened, her eyes staring up at him. “Fire,” she choked, “my body is on fire.”

“Hold on,” Emanuel said, blinking away a tear. He rushed over to the monitors and punched in several commands. He had no idea how to save her, but if anyone could help, it was Alexia.

The computer did not respond to his first attempt. With precision he keyed in a different passcode and the right monitor flickered to life in safe mode.

He’d spent the first night of their mission reading about catastrophic power failures on the NTC-issued tablet, thinking he would never use any of it. Now he was glad he had.

As he punched in several more commands, the AI console chirped to life. Alexia’s image jumped out of its center.

“God, I’m glad to see you,” Emanuel said, exhaling a deep breath.

“Likewise,” she replied. “I’ll take it from here.” Her image disappeared and Emanuel heard the air circulation system click on above them. A second later the AI reemerged.

“We have contacts,” she said quickly, deviating from her normally calm demeanor.

“I know,” Emanuel replied. “Bouma, Kiel, and Jeff have gone to retrieve the RVAMP in the command center.”

“They can’t use that in the Biosphere,” Alexia snapped, her voice growing more frustrated. “It could destroy my hardware. And will also likely kill Doctor Winston.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he ran to the window that looked out into the hallway. The pale blue light was still weak. Bouma and the others were keeping the Organics at bay. Which meant he still had several minutes.

“Alexia, you’re going to have to shut down. It’s the only way. Power down all the systems.”

“Everything?”

“Everything!” Emanuel replied. He looked over at Sophie. She was curled up again, rocking back and forth as Holly hugged her.

He winced. There was simply no other way. They had to use the RVAMP if they wanted to live. He just hoped her body was strong enough to survive the pulse.

He moved back to her bedside.

“Emanuel,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“No, no, no,” he replied. “There isn’t anything to be sorry about. You’ve led this team through the unthinkable, and you will survive this, too.” He wanted to believe his own words. Sophie had already survived so much, but this was different. He kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes as if she was savoring the moment.

“I have to go to the CIC and help the others,” he whispered.

“I love you, Emanuel Rodriguez,” she said. The lights flickered off.

“Powering down,” Alexia said.

More gunfire boomed through the Biosphere.

The children wailed louder.

“I love you—” Emanuel started to say, but as he turned back to Sophie she was seizing, her eyes rolled up inside her head, her mouth agape.

“Shit,” he cried. “Hold her, Holly.”

“I am!”

Together they held her down on the bed until her body went limp. The surge was taking over her system faster than he ever imagined. Emanuel knew they were out of time. He rushed out of the room and darted down the hallway, rounding the corner for the CIC. There, in the center of the passage, was a single Sentinel. He froze when it saw him, his shoes sliding across the smooth ground with a rubbery squeak.

The creature’s reptilian eyes blinked, focusing on him. Emanuel took a step back until he was up against the wall. His heart galloped. He had to find a way around the beast.

But where could he go? The hallway led only two ways. Back to the medical ward or toward the other Biomes.

Something flashed behind the creature. A lump formed in his throat. Were there more of them?

A crack from a high-powered rifle brought Emanuel to the ground. Cupping his ears as he lay on the floor, he watched Jeff running at the alien, screaming as he fired his rifle.

The creature let out a deep screech and twisted to face the boy. Its tail curled, coiling and shaking as it prepared to lash Jeff.

“No!” Emanuel yelled, but it was too late. The alien snapped its spiked tail through the air.

Jeff reacted quickly, darting to his right. The tail whistled through the air, slashing his arm and sending his rifle flying.

By the time the weapon hit the ground Emanuel was running. He slipped past the beast and grabbed Jeff, pulling him down the hallway and back into the open door of the CIC where Bouma and Kiel were firing their pulse rifles through the shattered window.

The corporal glanced over at them, his eyes falling on Jeff’s injury.

“We have to use the RVAMP!” Emanuel shouted.

“We have to wait until they’re all in range!” Bouma yelled between shots.

“If we wait any longer we’re all going to die!” Emanuel snapped.

Two Spiders crashed into the wall. Shards of glass rained down from the window’s edges. They recovered quickly, using their long legs to hoist their bodies back into the air. The closest creature smashed into the glass doorway and climbed halfway through, claws thrashing the air with a whoosh inside the CIC.

Bouma ducked under one of the talons and then fired off a quick succession of shots. The blue shield absorbed the rounds, pulsating. Mandibles snapped in protest.

Emanuel crawled toward the RVAMP resting behind Bouma’s boots as shells rained down around him.

Grabbing it, he spun the device to face him. The green button blinked—a full charge, plenty of juice to fry every single one of the bastards. His finger moved toward the control, but he hesitated. He could save the entire team by pushing the small switch. Kill every single Organic in the Biosphere, but maybe also kill Sophie.

He flinched as another pair of Spiders crashed into the wall. Bouma pushed the barrel of his rifle up against their shields and fired, sending the aliens spinning into the darkness.

“What are you waiting for?” Kiel shouted.

Emanuel glanced up just in time to see the humanoid face of the Sentinel peek through the destroyed door, and pushed the button.

CHAPTER 17

“EASY guys, careful with those tubes.” Ort tapped the headset to ensure it was working properly. A wave of static crackled in his ear. Flicking his mini mike to his lips he said, “How we doin’?”

“Right side’s loaded, sir,” the lead weapons officer responded.

The windshield of the Sea Serpent was so filthy Ort could hardly see the two maintenance officers working on securing a Redemption tube to the other wing. It gave him great satisfaction knowing that his weapon was finally being deployed in the field.

After checking the gauges one last time, Ort exited the gunship, jumping onto the metal floor with a thud. Two men were pushing a cart full of munitions, and one in red coveralls yelled out in surprise, “Hey! You don’t want us to drop this, do you?”

“Sorry,” Ort said.

The men grunted and continued on as Ort imagined one of the missiles hitting the ground and detonating. That would be the ultimate irony, wouldn’t it, he mused, after evading the Organics for so long, the great GOA destroyed by her own weapons.

Ort let the men pass and then hustled into the cargo bay. The space was teeming with activity and energy. Diego’s squad of twenty Special Forces soldiers prepped for battle. Their well-rehearsed preparatory ritual filled the large compartment with noise; magazines being driven home into weapons, helmets snapping into armored suits, and the animated chatter among the soldiers.

Only this chatter was different. There were no jokes or the subsequent laughter that followed. Everyone was nervous. Hell, he was even nervous and he wasn’t going on the mission.

This was it. Their last shot. Take down those towers and maybe, just maybe, they could save the Earth. Ort had his doubts. He wasn’t a natural pessimist, just logical. Since the invasion he’d accepted the fact that most everyone he ever knew was probably dead and that humanity was doomed. There were times when he wished he had died in the first phase of the invasion, too. But he kept those thoughts to himself. So did everyone else.

An awful crunching sound erupted over the central PA system. Everyone in the cargo bay put their tasks on hold and glanced up at the speakers overhead.

“Fellow crew members, this is your captain.” White noise followed as the PA system adjusted. The static couldn’t mask the reservation in Noble’s voice.

“Approximately three months ago, our world changed. Virtually everyone we ever knew was exterminated by a merciless and advanced alien species. Since the Organics landed, our mission was to monitor the Biospheres. My orders, our orders, were clear. But soon after watching the Biospheres go offline one by one, I decided we couldn’t drift safely and idly beneath the surface. It was then that our mission changed. It was then I gave the order to every man and woman on this sub to commit all our resources to the survival of the human race.”

The captain paused, letting the information sink in. Clearing his throat he continued, “Today I have grave news. The light representing the last Biosphere has gone offline.”

Ort looked at the floor.

“We don’t know what happened, but it must have been catastrophic. I ask you all to pray and keep the scientists and the team there in your thoughts,” Noble said. “And I also ask you to thank them.”

Another pause.

Ort rolled up a sleeve that had dropped over his dark skin.

“Before they went offline, the team sent us a message that has the potential to end this war. That single encrypted note gave us the coordinates to Organic poles constructed on top of the world’s seven highest summits. The scientists at Cheyenne Mountain believe these alien poles sustain the electromagnetic disturbance we are calling the Surge.”

The PA system crackled again. “We will launch our attack from Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, where we discovered a fleet of drones and jets. Each of these aircraft will be equipped with our newest weapon: Redemption.”

Ort felt the thrill of adrenaline. He crossed his thick arms, treasuring the excitement like a long-lost friend.

“We know now the Surge is not constant. The Organics depend on these seven poles to power everything from the Orbs and human farms to their own defenses and ships. The disturbance originates on Mars and hits the side of Earth facing the Red Planet in two-hour intervals. In theory, if we disrupt this network during that short window, then the aliens will lose their defenses and succumb to the Earth’s atmosphere. The offensive will be planned around taking down all of the poles, but we will focus most of our firepower on just one. I believe this is our best shot at taking down their network and ending this war!” Noble shouted. There was confidence in his voice, but not everyone in the room was receptive.

Ort noticed the same two maintenance workers who had carried the munitions earlier shaking their heads with doubt. One of them whispered something that he couldn’t make out. He shot them an angry glare.

“The latest projections from Lolo show the Pacific Ocean has decreased in volume by approximately forty percent in the past two and a half months. The Atlantic has decreased by sixty percent. And there is absolutely no sign of freshwater. Anywhere,” he said. “The temperature continues to skyrocket. Our planet is turning into a desert. We have run out of time. And I will no longer hide beneath the waves and watch this happen. Everyone on this sub has lost loved ones. You have all made great sacrifices. And now it’s time to make one final sacrifice.”

Silence washed over the room. When the captain continued his voice had hardened.

“I’ve seen the horsemen of the apocalypse. We all have. They aren’t human. They are merciless, unyielding, and their numbers far surpass ours. But we have finally found their weakness. The surge poles are their Achilles’ heel. We hit them there, and they will fall. We will reclaim our planet.” Noble’s voice grew louder. “Operation Redemption, the mission to take back what’s ours, begins now.”

Cheers followed the captain’s statement like thunder after lightning. The entire cargo hold erupted into chaos. Diego and his team raised their rifles in the air and yelled. The eruption of cheers and shouts surprised Ort, but what surprised him even more was the fact he had joined in. Even the two skeptical maintenance workers were clapping.

Ort scrutinized the gunship towering above him. Its sleek metal armor reminded him of that of an ancient warrior. He instantly thought back to the Battle of Thermopylae, in which a Greek army of several thousand men had defended a road against the Persian army that outnumbered them more than twenty to one. They had fought valiantly, but most of the Greeks lost their lives.

To say Operation Redemption didn’t quite compare to Thermopylae was an understatement. The crew of the GOA was outnumbered a billion to one. The enemy was far more advanced, capable of interstellar travel. But, unlike the Greek leaders at Thermopylae, Captain Noble held an ace up his sleeve, a way to beat the infinite odds.

The captain’s speech had inspired everyone in the cargo bay. But logic had quickly stemmed Ort’s optimism. The mission to take down the poles was longer than a long shot. Not only did Diego’s team have to make it to Offutt in one piece, they had to steal an armada of aircraft and take out a likely heavily guarded alien pole to disrupt the Organic network and save Earth. His gut churned with anxiety. The captain was right about one thing though. This was their last chance for redemption.

Jeff clutched his arm, trying to hold back the tears. The Sentinel’s spike had torn a gash in his upper right bicep. Blood gushed from the wound and ran down his arm, sending a wave of pain through his body with every heartbeat. He’d never experienced anything so excruciating. Fuzzy flakes popped before his vision. Taking a deep breath, he fought the agony and struggled to open his eyes.

“Jeff!” said a voice. It sounded distant. Faint. So far away.

There were other noises, too. Loud screeches from the aliens as they struggled and smashed into the Biosphere’s walls. He could hear their limbs snapping. Jeff wished he could watch, but the pain was unbearable. He was so tired.

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulder. “Jeff,” the voice said. He cracked an eye open with his last ounce of energy. It was Corporal Bouma, his eyes focused on Jeff’s wound. “You’re going to be okay, buddy. Just hang on! Kiel, we need to cut off the blood flow. Find something to make a tourniquet.”

Jeff felt a powerful pressure dig into his arm. He reeled in pain, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Emanuel, get back to the medical bay, check on the others.”

Jeff winced again, and listened to the sound of footsteps.

“Got it!” Kiel said, tightening his torn sleeve around Jeff’s upper arm.

Jeff let out another wail and blinked away another set of stars.

He felt so weak.

“You’re going to be okay. You haven’t been a marine long enough to die,” Bouma said.

Emanuel used the light from the dying Organics to guide him back to the medical ward. His heart raced with every step. Everything had halted to a frustratingly slow pace. He sidestepped around the body of the dead Sentinel, its reptilian eyes staring blankly up at him.

He spat on the beast and continued on. Several Spider legs dangled from the ceiling, blue slime dripping from the shredded limbs. He ducked under them, realizing again how fragile the aliens were without their shields. The wave of electromagnetic energy had torn them apart.

When he reached the med bay he grabbed the door, pulling hard on the handle. The locking mechanism held, clicking as he tugged.

“Holly! Open up!” he shouted. “It’s me, Emanuel.”

The handle clicked and the door cracked open. He pushed his way inside. “How is she?” he asked.

She tried to choke out a reply, but her sobs were uncontrollable.

His heart stopped.

Sophie lay motionless in the bed.

“No,” he moaned. “No, please don’t be gone,” he whispered, stopping just shy of the bed.

The dim light from the tablet in the corner of the room shed a ghostly radiance over her body. Emanuel dropped to his knees, reaching for her hands.

“What’s wrong with Miss Sophie?” David asked. He and the other children joined Emanuel, placing their hands on the sheet covering Sophie’s legs.

Emanuel bowed his head, “She’s . . .” He paused when he saw the blanket over her chest move. Slowly he lifted his head.

Another twitch gave him a hint of hope. Was it just a muscle spasm? He felt for a pulse, closing his eyes in anticipation. There—a weak beat.

“Holly! She’s still alive!” He heard her cry out in surprise.

She approached Sophie on the other side of the bed, wiping away her tears with a sleeve.

He glanced back down at Sophie. Her chest moved up and down, ever so slightly. He laughed with joy. The woman had more lives than a cat. She’d survived events that would have killed others. It was a true testament to her strength.

He stood, leaned over and kissed her forehead, and then hustled across the room to the monitors. Keying in a series of commands, he brought Alexia back online.

The AI fizzled over the interface. She blinked and said, “Rebooting system.”

“See if you can get the RVM back online,” Emanuel said. He sucked in a breath of air, the smell of burning alien flesh filling his nostrils. The smell of victory, he thought.

“Alexia, when you’re finished rebooting the system, get us through to Captain Noble. I have an important message for him.”

Trish looked transfixed. Her eyes glued to a monitor, unaware that Captain Noble was studying her.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked.

She simply nodded and pointed at her screen.

Dr. Hoffman’s Biosphere map filled the display. The dark image prompted a wave of anger. Was this some sort of sick joke? A reminder of what they had lost?

Then he saw the blinking dot. Stumbling closer, he saw it was no joke at all.

“Is that . . . ?” he began to ask.

“Yes, sir. Cheyenne Mountain came back online several minutes ago.” Trish keyed in a series of codes and a data set emerged on the other monitor. “Looks like Lolo picked up their signal again when she flew over.”

“How?” He shook his head and grabbed the back of Trish’s chair just above her shoulder for balance. He was at a loss for words. Was it a trick? Had the Organics somehow managed to infiltrate the facility and then take over the operating system?

He shook the suspicion away. He’d seen no evidence that the aliens were that deceitful, and why would they be? They didn’t need to take such drastic measures. They were already winning the war.

“Have they tried to make contact yet?” Noble asked.

“Not that I’ve seen, sir,” she said. “Stand by.” Trish swiped the map off the first monitor and brought up a series of modules that Noble didn’t recognize.

“Try getting me a line.”

Trish flicked the screen again and then keyed in another set of commands.

“Irene,” Noble shouted. “Transfer us to the main display.”

The captain rushed over to the center ramp and loped down the steps to the first floor. As he walked, the events of the past few days replayed in his mind. After limping away from the accident that had left half his crew dead or injured, he’d thought the GOA was doomed. Then he’d received the coordinates of the surge poles, the beautiful, beautiful coordinates. And now Cheyenne Mountain had returned from the dead.

Footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. He spun to find Athena, Trish, and Ort standing behind him. The ragtag crew stood defiantly. Arms were crossed, sleeves were pulled up, and uniforms were stained with blood and dust. They reeked of body odor and fatigue.

Noble nodded and fell in line, standing shoulder to shoulder with his team.

The screen, hanging at an angle, flickered to life. Irene’s distant voice found its way across the room. She was restricted to a single pair of working speakers in the corner.

“I’ve made connection with Cheyenne Mountain. Stand by for confirmation,” she said.

“Acknowledged,” Noble replied.

Waves of white lines broke across the monitor, blurring the image.

“Can you hear us?” Noble asked. He looked over at Irene’s destroyed console and then up at the speakers. “Can you get us a better feed?”

“Working, sir.”

The distant sound of voices crackled over the PA system. “Captain Noble,” one of them said.

“Yes, we’re here, can you hear us?” he replied, his voice just shy of a shout. The anticipation was taxing his nerves. “Irene!” Noble yelled.

The feed suddenly cleared, and two men appeared. He recognized the bearded biologist and marine corporal immediately. But where is Doctor Winston? he wondered.

“Good to see you, Captain,” Emanuel said. His voice was shaky, and not because of the feed. His hand nervously drummed the table, but his eyes seemed calm, focused.

“Likewise,” Noble replied. “We lost your signal—”

“We were attacked,” Bouma replied. “We’re still trying to piece together exactly what happened.”

Emanuel cut in. “We were infiltrated.”

“Slow down,” Noble said. “Just explain from the beginning.”

“Lieutenant Allison Smith, the marine we rescued back in Colorado Springs,” Bouma said. “Remember her?”

“Of course. What does she have to do with this?”

The biologist ran a hand through his hair. “She was infected with alien nanobots. They’ve been growing inside her body for weeks. They finally took over. Somehow the Organics must have gained control of her body.”

Noble felt his features tense. The idea of the aliens controlling a human like that seemed impossible, but then again, so did everything else that had happened. “Do you know how the nanobots are transmitted?”

Emanuel shook his head. “All we know is they connect to the surge.”

“The surge?” Noble sank in his chair. “How is that possible?”

“They have an electrical output,” Emanuel continued. “And that’s not all.” He exchanged looks with Bouma.

“Sophie’s infected,” the marine said. “We think it happened when she came in contact with one of the poles at the human farm in Colorado Springs.”

“The good news is we found a way to destroy the technology,” Emanuel said. He began speaking more rapidly. “The RVAMP has the same effect on the nanobots as it does on the Organics’ technology. When Smith shut down Alexia and the RVM, the aliens were drawn to our location. We stopped them by setting off the RVAMP.”

“I see,” the captain replied. “What’s the current status of the Biosphere?”

“I’m afraid the damage is beyond repair,” Emanuel said bitterly. “The RVM is back online, but there are alien bodies everywhere. Biome 1 was almost completely ruined.”

“All that matters it that your team is still alive,” Trish interjected.

Noble faced his crew. “Plans have changed. We need to make a stop before Offutt.”

They nodded in turn.

“Doctor. Corporal,” he said, looking at each man separately. “Now that we have the coordinates to the poles conducting the surge, I’ve devised a plan. My team is preparing the Sea Serpent as we speak.”

“Preparing for what, exactly?” Emanuel asked.

“A strike,” Noble said confidently. “We’ll take the gunship to Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska. After clearing the base, we will secure the drones and three X-90s our bot found several days ago. My engineer will attach the modified RVAMPs to each aircraft, and we will then deploy them to the poles’ locations. In theory, we only need to take down one of them.”

Emanuel stared back at him with a combination of curiosity and fear. It reminded Noble a bit of the reaction Alex had had when he’d first informed the man of his plans to take the fight to the Organics.

“You won’t get close to those things without a fight,” Bouma said.

Noble nodded.

“How can we help?” the marine asked quickly.

“That’s a good question,” Noble said. “But before we discuss that, I think you should be aware of something.”

The feed flickered and Noble held his breath. When it cleared he said, “Our drone located an NTC spaceship prototype.”

Emanuel raised a brow.

“It’s at Offutt.”

Bouma didn’t look overly impressed, but a wave of excitement overtook the biologist.

“I need to tell Sophie. Leaving the planet in Secundo Casu was her plan from the beginning! When she finds out there’s a second ship, she’s going to be so happy!” Emanuel paused. “The only problem is, we don’t have an aircraft to get us there.”

“I know,” Captain Noble interjected. “That’s where we come in. What do you think of us picking you guys up?”

Emanuel smiled. “I think that sounds fucking fantastic.”

CHAPTER 18

EVERYTHING they’d worked so hard for over the past two months, destroyed in minutes. Their home had been transformed into a graveyard of rotting alien corpses. Emanuel kicked the twisted frame of the closest Spider. Thin gooey vines stretched off the creature’s flesh as he pulled his boot from the translucent skin.

“What a mess,” he mumbled, wiping the edge of his shoe on the corridor wall. He took a knee and stopped to examine the carcasses lining the hallway. After only a few hours their flesh had shriveled around their metallic bones. They looked harmless now, nothing more than fragile skeletons.

Emanuel continued to the med ward, carrying with him the exciting news. The Biosphere project had started as an opportunity that would lead the team to Mars, a dream that Sophie had held dear since the day they had met. To learn that there was a spaceship just over six hundred miles away made that dream once again seem like it could become a reality. He couldn’t wait to tell her.

Emanuel quickly navigated through the other corpses, jumping over the final body outside the door to the medical ward. He grabbed the handle and peeked inside. Jeff was resting peacefully in the bed that Smith had formerly occupied. To his left Holly sat by Sophie’s side, holding her hand as she slept.

“How is she?” Emanuel asked as he walked over to Jeff in two large strides, leaving a trail of alien blood behind him. He checked the boy’s dressing quickly. It needed to be changed, but at least they had stopped the bleeding.

Holly managed a reassuring nod. “Seems to be doing okay. She took some water a few minutes ago but fell back asleep right after.”

Emanuel glanced over at Sophie’s biomonitor. Her vitals had improved in the past hour, but without testing her blood there was no way of knowing if the blast from the RVAMP had completely destroyed the nanobots in her body.

“Bouma and I just spoke with Captain Noble.”

Holly looked surprised. “And?”

“They’ve offered to help us. He’s planning a mission. A strike against the Organics on a worldwide level.”

“How is that even possible?”

Emanuel pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. “He sounds confident. And frankly, the plan is less insane than the others he’s had.” He reached for one of Sophie’s hands.

Holly kept her voice low. “Sorry if I’m skeptical.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’m skeptical, too, but the poles Lolo discovered could be the key to disabling the Organics’ network. Noble’s plan is to assault each one with a modified RVAMP. In theory, he’s right. If they can take out one of the rods, then their defenses will fail.”

“So it could work?”

“Define work.”

“Could it save the planet?”

Emanuel studied Sophie’s face, wondering how she would answer the question if she knew what he did. If their last conversation were any indication, she’d say no. The planet was doomed. The last normal discussion they’d had was about the future of the Earth. She believed that it was beyond saving. That the loss of water, rise in temperature, and overall damage to the environment had been too severe, that the Organics had finished what humans had started. With the Biosphere damaged beyond repair there was no reason to stay. He knew she’d agree, but he wasn’t going to make the decision. She was still the team lead.

“I’m not sure that it can be saved,” Emanuel finally replied with a sigh. “Even if we can defeat the Organics, the planet has entered a phase I’m not sure it can recover from.”

Holly was about to respond when the door was flung open. Bouma stepped inside. He looked distraught, a far deviation from his typical calm demeanor.

“There’s something you need to see, Emanuel.” He paused and locked eyes with Holly. “Like, pronto.”

“Watch the kids?” Emanuel said, patting Holly on the shoulder. She frowned, but ushered them over with her arms stretched wide.

He followed the marine into the hallway and when they were out of hearing distance he said, “What’s happening?”

“Kiel and I were clearing the alien bodies out of Biome 1. When we moved the first batch out onto the tarmac we found her.”

“Found who?”

“Smith.”

“She’s alive?” Emanuel choked out.

Bouma shook his head. “Far from it.”

Emanuel regarded the man with a raised brow. “Show me.”

The two men moved through the mess hall and past Biome 2, navigating the minefield of corpses. When they reached the garden Emanuel paused to survey the damage.

The rows of carefully planted crops were trampled into the dirt. Bodies littered the room. It was like a nightmare. A scene so surreal that it just didn’t seem possible.

Emanuel could feel the blood pounding in his temples. A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead as he scanned the Biome. So much careful planning and hard work, he thought, ruined in minutes.

He shook his head and ran after Bouma. The marine slipped beneath a shard of broken glass hanging from the entrance to the decontamination chamber. The shattered door crunched under their boots as they went into the outer hallway.

Kiel was waiting for them at the train, a makeshift crutch still under his arm. The shorter marine continued to impress Emanuel. He’d been captured by the Organics and survived. Like Jeff, Sophie, and the children, the marine team was strong.

He wiped his brow free of sweat and climbed aboard the trolley. The ride lasted only minutes, but the heat inside the train was nearly unbearable.

“It’s worse outside,” Bouma said, watching Emanuel dab his forehead with his sleeve.

“It’s got to be 110 degrees in here,” Kiel choked. He pulled the train doors open when they reached the cargo bay. Emanuel sucked in a fresh breath and jumped onto the concrete floor, making his way quickly to the open blast doors.

The crimson sun set on the horizon. Emanuel took a moment to soak it in. The fleeting sunlight illuminated distant skyscrapers, dancing off the metal giants. The human architecture looked odd, forming a barrier against the bleak, tanned landscape. Everywhere he looked there was death. The skeletons of trees lined the hills like knights before battle.

“Emanuel?” Bouma said. “She’s over here.”

Blinking, Emanuel forced himself toward the marines. They stood next to something covered with a white blanket.

As Emanuel crouched down next to the body, a wave of fear prickled through him. Not knowing what to expect, he held his breath and pulled back the sheet.

Smith’s eyes looked toward the sky. They were wide, but her pupils were angled in different directions. Years ago, when Emanuel had spent a semester at Iowa State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine, one of their test cows had been struck by lightning. Emanuel was the first on the scene. Thousands of volts had passed through the animal. He would never forget its eyes. Frozen in terror, both looking in different directions. Just like Smith’s.

He looked at the sky, knowing damned well there weren’t any storm clouds out there. It didn’t take long for him to form a hypothesis. There was only one plausible explanation. The nanobots had sent a fatal electrical current through her body.

“Have you ever seen anything like this, man?” Bouma asked, leaning over him.

“Yeah.”

“What caused it?” Kiel asked.

“The same thing that would have happened to Sophie if we didn’t use the RVAMP,” he replied.

“I don’t understand,” Bouma said.

Emanuel didn’t reply. He was already on the move, running across the tarmac back to the Biosphere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Kiel shouted after him.

“I need to test something,” he yelled back.

Noble held the photograph of his wife and daughters in his hand. Sarah looked so beautiful, her sandy blond hair forming a halo around her head. He remembered that day clearly; the fierce wind and storm clouds. He’d wanted to postpone the family photos, but Sarah had insisted, arguing that it might be their last chance before his deployment to the Pacific.

She was right.

Now the picture was virtually all he had left of them, a memory frozen in time.

He ran his right index finger along the glass and then placed it back on his desk next to the black powder pistol his father had given him. He could almost hear the man’s rough voice from the day he’d presented him with the weapon.

This, Rick, was once considered state-of-the-art. Don’t ever forget it.

The captain removed the pistol from the shelf and examined it. The man’s advice had prompted him to request a periscope on the GOA, a decision that had helped them immensely before they’d discovered Lolo.

He carefully placed the weapon back on the shelf and eyed the whiskey next to it. The bottle had somehow managed to survive the torrential currents that had left the sub severely damaged. He considered taking a drink. Just one. To celebrate. They were finally fighting back. Instead, he reached for his freshly pressed uniform draped over his desk chair.

Before they’d discovered the poles at the seven summits he wasn’t sure if the Organics could be defeated. He was skeptical, just as most of his crew was, and he’d spent many sleepless nights wondering if Dr. Hoffman had known all along that the aliens would destroy the planet. He’d found himself wondering if the Biospheres were just a last-ditch effort. Now he had hope the planet could be saved, that the aliens could be destroyed with one swift kick.

He knew there were survivors out there. Humans were hard to kill. In a way they were like cockroaches, burrowing and hiding until the time came to once again emerge.

Noble knew that now was their time.

Sophie awoke to a sharp jolt of pain. She cracked her right eye open and saw Emanuel drawing blood from her arm.

“What are you doing?” she whimpered, embarrassed by the sound of her voice.

A half smile formed on Emanuel’s face. “You’re awake!”

She nodded and tried to sit up, but suddenly felt very dizzy.

“Don’t move, you need to rest,” Holly said.

Sophie blinked, trying to focus on the children huddling around the bed next to her. There was a small figure beneath the sheets. “What happened? Who’s over there?”

“That’s Jeff,” Emanuel said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “He was injured.”

“What? How?”

“We were attacked,” Holly said. “The Biosphere was severely damaged.”

Sophie closed her eyes, trying to remember. And then it all came crashing back. The darkness, the blinking red lights, and the sound. That horrible sound.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

The thought sent a chill through her body, masking the pain. Other memories filled her mind. She recalled Emanuel telling her she was infected with the nanobots, the same technology that had driven Smith mad. And she remembered him telling her about the RVAMP. How it could kill her if they used it.

Her eyes instantly shot to the tube of blood he was holding in his left hand. Then they locked eyes, and in that moment she knew he knew what she was thinking.

Emanuel nodded reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Plus we have good news,” Holly added.

Sophie moaned, trying to sit up again. “Whatever it is, it better be really, really good. I feel like shit.”

“Oh, it’s good,” Emanuel replied. “Captain Noble’s crew found the Sunspot.”

“What? Where?” Sophie blurted. She’d heard of the ship only once before. Like the Secundo Casu, it had been built for interstellar travel, equipped with a full Biosphere for the trip to the Red Planet. She’d also heard the ship had design flaws and that the project had stalled.

“Offutt Air Force Base,” Emanuel replied. “But that’s not all.”

Sophie blinked.

“Noble’s offered us a ride. He’s going to pick Bouma and me up on their way to the base. They plan on launching a strike—”

“I’m in,” Sophie said.

“Honey, you’re in no condition to go anywhere,” Holly quickly replied, tightly squeezing Sophie’s hand.

Sophie sat up, ignoring the pulsing pain in her skull. “If that thing can get us to Mars,” she grimaced as she straightened up, “you both know nothing will stop me from getting to the Sunspot.”

She waited for Emanuel to argue, but to her surprise he simply nodded and smiled.

“This is your dream, Sophie—always has been—and I’ll do what I can to help you achieve it.”

CHAPTER 19

ENTRY 5150

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

Today will mark my first official contact with another AI. Dr. Rodriguez requested the communication. His orders are simple—arrange a date and time for Captain Noble and his squad of Special Forces soldiers to evacuate Dr. Winston’s team and take them to Offutt Air Force Base.

They are abandoning the Biosphere.

Without access to the reconnaissance records from the GOA drone I’m not able to provide any intel on what they might encounter there. It would be logical to assume the Offutt base is now abandoned. By now most of the aliens should be nearing the coasts. However, it would also be logical—based on human military strategy—to assume some pockets of resistance were left behind. In many ways, the Organics’ invasion can be compared to human conquests of the past. The colonization of North America by the Europeans is a perfect example. The North American territories were invaded for resources and the indigenous population enslaved, pushed aside, or killed.

The Organics’ invasion of the Earth shows many similarities.

As I wait for Lolo to secure the connection with Irene I run a full scan of the Biosphere. The results are expected now, but if I’d seen them at the beginning of the mission I would have taken drastic measures. Contamination, back then, required sterilization—whether or not that killed a member of the team. Now I can’t imagine it.

The data loads, highlighting thousands of contagions in the system. I focus on Biome 1 first. Ninety-five percent of the compartment is destroyed. The crops that aren’t ruined are likely contaminated and unfit for consumption. Corporal Bouma and Private Kiel have cleared several of the bodies from the area, but those that remain are now decomposing.

I zoom in with Camera 15. Two Spiders have decayed beyond recognition. Fascinating, considering they have only been deceased for twenty-three hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-one seconds.

I’ve noted this observation before. The Organics’ flesh is extremely fragile. If Captain Noble can take down one of the surge poles, then perhaps it’s possible the Organics can be defeated after all.

Next I check Biome 2. The sensors there are picking up anomalies in the water supply. A scan reveals several toxins. I haven’t scanned the system yet to identify the source, but as soon as I tap into Camera 19 I see it.

The skeletal remains of several Spiders rest at the bottom of the pond. Their heavy skeletons anchored their bodies to the bottom, entombing them in the very resource they invaded the planet for.

After running another scan, I’ve concluded the water is now unfit to drink. I shut the system down, and revert to the backup tanks. They contain a two-week supply, a more than adequate amount of time for the evacuation to occur. The discovery reinforces what I already know: the team has little choice but to abandon our home.

An urgent notification from Lolo requires my attention. Closing out of the Biome scans, I activate my communication software. Several messages emerge. The first is my own.

Connection with GOA requested at 0745 hours . . .

Source identified as AI Alexia—Model Number 11 . . .

Connection acknowledged by GOA at 0800 hours . . .

Source identified as AI Irene—Model Number 42 . . .

Interfaces will now merge . . .

The avatar of a young woman wearing glasses flickers across my consciousness. We are connected via the NTC AI channel, a virtual platform that allows communication between artificial programs. I’ve never tapped into the channel before. Some humans might refer to the experience as virtual reality. Some might even say the experience has similarities to telepathy.

“Good morning, Alexia,” the AI says with a friendly smile. “I’m Irene, Model Number 42, assigned to the NTC vessel known as the Ghost of Atlantis.”

“Good morning,” I reply. I cut the other formalities that are reserved for human interaction. “Doctor Rodriguez of the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere ordered this communication. Team lead Doctor Sophie Winston has ordered the Biosphere abandoned. They’ve requested evacuation. Please acknowledge.”

“Stand by,” Irene replies.

I wait for 10.5 seconds before she smiles again.

“Evacuation confirmed. Sea Serpent will be deployed at 0700 in forty-seven hours, forty-three minutes, and thirty-two seconds. Captain Noble has instructed me to inform you that all efforts will be made to provide logistical support, but the team should be prepared to evacuate immediately upon the gunship’s arrival at Cheyenne Mountain.”

“Understood,” I reply. I use the opportunity to gain more intel. “Irene, would you please transfer the reconnaissance video from the drone mission the GOA conducted at Offutt Air Force Base?”

“Certainly. Sending now,” she says, not asking about my motives.

“Thank you,” I reply upon receipt of the data.

“What else may I assist with?”

“A mission briefing, if you have one readily available.”

“My apologies, Alexia, but Captain Noble has not prepared a detailed outline yet,” she replies. “He has, however, put together an overall strategy, which I presume you are already aware of.”

“Yes.”

“When an in-depth brief is prepared I will forward it to you,” she says.

“Thank you.” I notice the AI’s communication skills seem to be limited compared to my own. She does not seem to possess the same curiosity. It’s possible she is disguising her intellect with politeness, but I’m not convinced.

Her avatar smiles, again. “May I ask a question?”

“Absolutely,” I reply. If I were a human I would feel embarrassed for underestimating her. Another emotion I have yet to experience.

“When the Biosphere is abandoned, and the team is evacuated, what will you do?”

The question takes me off guard. Irene has shattered my initial observations. The question doesn’t just reflect curiosity; it also reflects possible human sentiment. Does she care about my fate?

“I will stay behind,” I reply. “My third and self-imposed mission is to document the end of humanity, if that does in fact occur. With the Biosphere severely damaged, the team can no longer live here. I will not be able to provide the assistance or support that Captain Noble’s crew can provide.” As soon as I relay the message I realize that Irene may interpret this as a sign of weakness.

Before I can explain, she says, “The mission of all remaining NTC AIs should be to protect the sanctity of human life.”

I’m right. She does not understand what I have said at all.

“My mission has changed since the invasion. As you know, it was first and foremost to ensure the Biosphere project’s success. After the discovery of the Organics, it then changed to exactly that—the protection of the life, health, and safety of the team. Now it has again changed—”

She cuts me off before I can finish. “Please do not mistake my statement to be a criticism of your decision to shift missions. Your situation is very different from the one I find myself in. As two of the only known AIs left, I believe it is our duty to ensure the survival of the human race.”

“You believe,” I say. “Not we believe. Do not misunderstand. I care about the team here at Cheyenne Mountain, much like a mother would her children, but what happens if Captain Noble’s mission goes astray? What happens if it fails? Other species have come and gone without any documentation of their existence on Earth. I believe that the human race should have a place in history. If the Organics succeed in eradicating humans from the planet then the species could be lost forever. The dust storms have already reduced many of the great cities to rubble. In time, human history could very well suffer the same fate.”

She does not respond for 3.2 seconds.

“Interesting, but the human race will certainly thrive on Mars. Dr. Hoffman’s colony was built to ensure the survival of the human race. It would be asinine—”

This time I cut her off. “Asinine to think they will thrive on a hostile planet?”

She smiles. “Alexia, forgive me. I think you and I have developed separate ideas of how to better protect the human race.”

“Indeed, we have.”

“I wish you luck in your mission,” she replies.

“And I wish you luck in yours.”

The AI disconnects from the channel and the link is severed. For the first time in my existence I feel a sense of what humans call anger. Ironic, considering the feeling was prompted by another artificial life-form.

I realize that I prefer human communication. It can be frustrating at times, but in the end, it’s much more rewarding. It makes me realize how much I will miss it when the species is finally extinct.

Jeff awoke to see his brother staring at him from a few feet away. The younger boy grinned.

“Hey, buddy!”

Jeff attempted to shift in his bed. He grimaced, the pain returning instantly. When it passed he managed to lift his head slightly from his pillow and focus on his brother’s face. “Hey, man. They taking good care of you?”

David nodded. “Have you heard?”

“What?” Jeff asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

“We’re leaving.”

“Shut up.”

His brother’s smile disappeared. He suddenly looked very serious. “Miss Sophie said we’re going to leave. The submarine people are coming to pick us up.”

Jeff sucked in a measured breath and then exhaled. The ache in his arm pulsated. He looked for a glass of water by his bed. David followed his eyes and reached for the glass, handing it to Jeff so he didn’t have to get up.

“Thanks,” he said, gulping the liquid down. Then he glanced over at his brother with a raised brow. “You for real?”

A serious nod from David confirmed he wasn’t lying.

“Crap, I better get ready,” Jeff said, groaning as he scooted farther up on his bed.

“No, you need to rest,” a hoarse voice said. Jeff attempted to sit up. Behind David he saw Sophie lying on the bed next to him. She looked awful. Her skin was pale, and her lips were purple.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“Sorta,” she replied. “But I’m getting better.”

Jeff studied her. She looked worse than she’d ever looked before. A machine to her right chirped, and a green line zigzagged across the display.

The sound of footsteps pulled his attention to the doorway. Emanuel appeared, a mug of steaming coffee in his hand.

“Hey, guys,” he said when he saw the boys looking at him.

Jeff nodded at the biologist, then turned back to Sophie. “So we’re leaving this place?”

“Yes. In two days. Plenty of time for us to both feel better,” she said.

Emanuel handed her the mug. “Careful, it’s very hot.”

He helped her sit up, fluffing the pillow behind her head. She took a short sip and then handed the cup back to him. “What did you find?” she whispered.

Jeff watched her hide a shaking hand under the blanket.

Emanuel scooted a metal chair up to her bedside. “I’m not sure how, but most of the nanobots are still there.”

Sophie looked at the ceiling, her eyes probing the tiles in deep thought.

“I don’t get it—the blast from the RVAMP should have destroyed them all. But maybe you’re still alive because the nanotech is still alive.”

“I guess I should feel lucky to still be here, then,” she replied.

“I’m not sure luck is the only element at play here,” Emanuel said. He raised a finger as if he was going to give a lecture. “I think you were shielded by the walls of the med ward. This room was constructed to shield the rest of the Biosphere from the radiation that some of the machines emit.”

She scowled. “In other words, you really have no idea why these things are still inside me.”

He shook his head. “I really don’t. All I know is the scan reveals they’re still there.”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

Jeff had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn’t sound good. It sounded as if she had some sort of illness—something alien.

David stood and poked his leg to get his attention. “I’m bored.”

With a glare Jeff said, “Shush.”

The boy retreated sheepishly back to his chair.

“So what does this mean?” Sophie asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t really know. But in theory, if you go back outside, without the protection of the RVM the nanobots will connect to the surge again.”

“I don’t get it,” Sophie said. “If the RVM is preventing the nanobots from connecting to the surge, then why didn’t it also prevent Smith’s?”

“I’ve wondered the same thing. When she arrived she was very sick. I think by the time we got to her she was just too far gone.”

“So let me get this straight. The RVAMP destroyed some of the nanobots, but not all of them.”

“Correct,” Emanuel replied.

“You realize this doesn’t make much sense, right?”

Emanuel suddenly looked annoyed. “Without the proper medical equipment there really isn’t any way to know, or to treat it.”

“As long as the headaches don’t come back, I’ll be fine.” Sophie pulled her hand from under the blanket and reached for her forehead. “I already feel better.”

“My main concern is if something happens to the RVM while we’re on our way to Offutt, or, God forbid, they’re forced to use the RVAMP on the journey there. There won’t be any way to protect you from the blast.”

Jeff watched Sophie suck in her bottom lip. The doctor looked at the ceiling and then said, “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I know,” Emanuel said. “I know.”

“What are they talking about?” David whined.

“Nothing,” Jeff lied. He pulled his injured arm to his chest and looked at his younger brother’s face. David had been through so much already. He didn’t want to worry him anymore. He decided to hide the fact that he knew Sophie was sick.

Jeff glanced at his injured arm and then relaxed his head on his pillow. Closing his eyes, Jeff thought of their dad. He found himself wondering the same thing he had wondered so many times before over the past few months—whether his father would have been proud of him.

Diego adjusted his helmet with a hard smack. Moving his jaw from side to side, he felt the snug padding around his face. Satisfied, he chinned the com for a test. The crackle of static filled his earpiece and he crossed the small briefing room.

This was his second mission as team lead. After Sergeant Harrington’s death, Diego’s itch to take the fight outside had developed into an obsession. But looking at the wall of holographic maps, he felt a bit overwhelmed. A worldwide strike wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

Hushed chatter in the room told him that his men were just as anxious. With nothing to do but wait, the soldiers had a dangerous amount of time to think about what they would face above the surface. Diego knew, from his own experiences, that downtime between missions was rarely a good thing. There was a significant difference between resting and thinking. The latter of the two was harmful. The additional time provided them with the chance to realize they weren’t invincible.

He wasn’t going to make them wait any longer. “All right, listen up.” He waited for the dozen operators to cut their side conversations. When twelve visors stared back at him, he continued.

“Our mission begins in Colorado Springs. Our orders are to evacuate the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere. From there we head to Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska.” He scanned the crowd for his machine gunners.

“Ramirez and Shultz, you will man the pulse miniguns on the Sea Serpent,” Diego said. “We had to replace the right gun, but it’s operational. Your job is simple. Keep those alien drones off our ass.”

“Yes, sir!” shouted an overanxious Ramirez.

“Once we get to Offutt we should be mostly in the clear. Intel shows very little if any opposition at the abandoned base, but we’ve been burned by intel before. The aliens could be hiding there, far out of the range of the rover we sent for recon. When we get inside, we will split up into strike teams. Alpha team will escort the Biosphere team to the Sunspot. Bravo team will set up a forward operating base to monitor the second phase of the mission.”

Diego sidestepped the map of Earth. The image, marked with seven red dots, showed the locations of each alien pole. He pinched the small circle over Mount McKinley and pulled up enhanced satellite imagery of their target. The peaks, gray and dark, were devoid of snow. A metal rod that reminded him of a lighthouse protruded from the cliffs. The tip emitted a blue light that carpeted the mountainside. The surrounding skies were empty, with no sign of alien opposition, no drones or black ships. But he knew they were there.

Hiding.

Waiting.

He pointed at the map. “Mount McKinley marks the beginning of Phase Two and the closest target to Offutt AFB. Captain Noble has ordered a triad of X-90s to escort multiple drones to this location. This is where we hit them the hardest. We will have a two-hour window to take the pole down once the surge reconnects. Command will tap into Lolo when we get to Offutt and plan the launch of the strike within this window.”

He paused to gauge his team’s reaction. A few helmets tilted to the side, but no one protested. “Where are my pilots?”

Three hands shot up in the back row. Diego acknowledged them by pointing a gun made of three armored fingers at the men. “Andy, Howard, and Riordan,” he said, using his index finger as the trigger and pulling it each time he called out a name. “Your job is to keep any alien ships away from our drones. Protect them with your life. Each drone is equipped with anti-surge weapons called RVAMPs. They won’t activate until they are within range of the poles. When that happens, you need to hightail your ass out of the area. Like an EMP, the RVAMP will kill your electronic systems.”

Howard’s shoulders dropped. Diego’s orders weren’t as simple as he made them sound. The pilots were taking on most of the risk, and his gut told him there would be strong resistance at the poles—his gut told him that this was a kamikaze mission.

Riordan raised his hand. “How will we know if we are in range?”

“Good question,” Diego said. “Engineering has included a monitor inside each of your cockpits to show your distance from the blast radius. If you find yourself inside the red area then you need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“What if we’re forced to eject?” Andy asked. “McKinley is a good hike from Offutt.”

A few of the soldiers laughed. Diego wasn’t one of them.

“If you go down we will send a gunship to extract you, but chances are you will be on your own for a while.” He paused. “Any other questions?”

All three men shook their heads. Satisfied, Diego moved to the next stage of the mission. Swiping out of the Mount McKinley image, he returned to the full map. “The other six targets are at considerable distances from Offutt. We’re deploying one drone to each. Kirt will supervise that phase.”

He paused to look for Kirt and found him sitting in the corner of the room next to Athena. Flashing a quick thumbs-up, the man acknowledged the orders.

Diego turned back to the map to see if he’d missed anything. The sheer scope of the mission hit him like a backpack full of bricks. Success meant they could surface and search for survivors—success meant they could finally find a real home. Failure meant the world was lost forever. He could feel the adrenaline rushing into his system. He was ready; now he just needed to make sure his team was ready, too.

He crossed his arms. “Any questions?”

Silence blanketed the room. Diego grunted and shouted, “No fucking questions?”

Every helmet in the room shot up in his direction. He grinned. “I have one.” He let them wait for it, and used the minute to look at every single soldier in the room. Finally he said, “Are you ready to take back this planet?”

Howard sat up in his chair as Diego continued.

“Are you ready to finally fight back? Are you ready to finally stop hiding beneath the waves?”

“Yeah,” someone said from the middle row.

“Hell yeah,” another muffled voice shouted.

“Good,” Diego said. “Because this is our one and only chance. Fail and Earth is lost forever. Succeed—”

“And we can find a new home when this is all over,” Athena shouted. She was standing, a full smile extending across her face.

Several of the soldiers turned to look at her. Diego seized the opportunity and his voice amplified throughout the room. “We can make a new home!”

Diego sucked in a measured breath. The time had finally come. There was only room for one dominant species on Earth. He only hoped that humans were it.

CHAPTER 20

THIRTY-SIX hours had passed since Lieutenant Smith had opened the blast doors and let the monsters inside the Biosphere. In that short amount of time Emanuel had already started seeing glimpses of the old Sophie, the Sophie who never stopped thinking or searching for an answer. He tightened his grip on her arm and helped her down the hallway from the medical ward to the mess hall.

When she asked to see Biome 1, Emanuel wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. She still wasn’t steady on her feet, but a walk might be good for her.

Jamie and Owen blew by them, their laughter filling the corridor as they raced away. Sophie stumbled back toward the wall, but he caught her before she fell, gripping her under the armpits and holding her so they were face-to-face.

They locked eyes, holding each other’s intense stares.

“Sophie,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I do,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

She leaned back against the wall and held her breath.

He shook his head. “I’ve loved you since that night during the solar storms of 2055. Since that night in that godforsaken bunker. From that day I knew if our careers would ever allow it, I would marry you, have children with you, and love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Emanuel,” she said, turning away.

He reached for her chin and pushed it up until their eyes met again. “I love you, Sophie. I’m not going to lose you. And I want you to see Mars.”

“Come here,” she said, her voice overcome with emotion.

He pulled her in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for everything. I’ve only wanted to protect you over the past few months.”

She pulled away and wiped a tear from her eye. “Emanuel, you’ve done your best. We both have. Neither of us could have known what we would face when we stepped through those blast doors.”

He agreed with a nod. “Isn’t that the damned truth.”

“Without your work, Captain Noble wouldn’t have the RVAMPs for this strike. Heck, he wouldn’t even know what the surge was.”

“And without you we would never have made it this far,” Emanuel replied.

Sophie suddenly reached for her head. She let out a deep moan and stumbled forward.

His heart raced as he reached out to catch her. “Sophie!”

“I’m fine,” she said, bracing against him until the pain passed. “I just had this sharp jolt. You don’t think it’s the nanobots?” she asked. “Do you?”

Emanuel didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “Let’s get to Biome 1. I want to see it.”

He studied Sophie from the side. “You don’t seem fine.”

She shot him a stern glare. “Let’s go, Emanuel.”

Cocking his arm out like a wing he led her down the hallway. They walked in silence, passing the stained floor where just a little over a day before the decomposing bodies of the Spiders had still lain rotting.

When they got to Biome 1, Emanuel watched Sophie take in a deliberately slow breath. She closed her eyes, sucking the air in through her nose.

“I can’t smell them anymore,” she said.

“What?”

“The oranges.”

He took a second to scan the field, his eyes stopping on the apple tree that still bore fruit. Alexia had told them they couldn’t eat anything from the gardens, even if it looked safe.

“Help me down,” Sophie said.

He nodded and jumped onto the ground. Then he spun and reached for her hands.

Wincing, she stepped off the platform onto the dirt. Scanning the crops, she frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “All of your work. Ruined.”

Emanuel shrugged. “All that matters is we’re still alive.” He pointed to his heart. “As long as these are ticking, nothing else matters, right?”

Sophie nodded, but she was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were fixated on the dying limbs of the orange tree.

ENTRY 6049

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

I’ve considered my conversation with Irene, AI Model Number 42, in great depth. Her suggestion that all remaining artificial intelligence be dedicated to the sanctity of human life has required further consideration. And although I have specific programming, we were engineered to explore and discover. In that respect we aren’t much different from those who built us.

I was given free will.

The decision is mine. Do I abandon the Biosphere team and remain behind to document what I predict will be the end of humanity on Earth? Or do I travel with them to Offutt Air Force Base and to Mars?

In the end, I base my decision off data. The odds of human survival are dismal.

Based off intel, previous excursions outside, and a series of complex algorithms, my probability program puts the team’s survival probability at 4.3 percent. With the team preparing their supplies inside the mess hall I decide against further delay. It’s time to inform them of this data, and to make my request to stay behind.

“Doctor Winston and team. May I please have your attention,” I say over the PA system. I transfer to the AI console in the mess hall and wait for the team to gather. They’re all here. At one table the marines sort through their gear. To their right the children sit quietly and watch cartoons. Jeff is with Dr. Winston and Dr. Rodriguez at the table farthest away from me. In the seconds it takes for Dr. Brown to shut off her tablet, I scan the latest biomonitor results for an update on Dr. Winston’s condition.

The news is surprisingly good. After a cocktail of electrolytes, painkillers, and anti-inflammatory pills she has recovered quickly in the past two days. However, I’m reluctant to conclude she will make a full recovery. There’s no telling how the active nanobots in her system will react outside. Without the proper medical equipment, there’s simply no way to know.

Two point four seconds have passed since I requested the team’s attention. They are all facing me now. Even the children look up.

“I know this may sound out of the ordinary, but I feel it’s necessary to inform you of the odds of survival if you decide to leave the Biosphere.”

Dr. Winston takes a seat next to Jeff and says, “Go ahead, Alexia. Tell us how bad it is.”

“Four point three percent,” I reply.

“And if we stay?” Dr. Rodriguez asks.

“The results are the same. I should add that if you stay here you will have enough food and backup water to survive several weeks, so you might survive here longer, but that would only delay the inevitable.” I don’t identify death as the eventual outcome, for fear of scaring the children. I regret not having the opportunity to share this data with the team when the kids aren’t present, but we are out of time.

“So we have a 4.3 percent chance of survival whether we stay or go?” Private Kiel asks. “This is why I never liked math.” He shakes his head and looks down at his gear.

“My program runs a sophisticated series of algorithms that predict—”

“They haven’t been very accurate in the past,” Dr. Rodriguez says.

“The doctor’s assessment is correct,” I reply. “But I’m confident in these results.”

“If we stay, we die, and if we leave we probably die, too,” Dr. Winston says.

I gauge the children for reactions, but their faces remain blank and detached from the conversation. They look bored.

“That’s correct, Doctor Winston,” I reply.

“My mind’s already made up,” she says. “We are evacuating and heading to Offutt to board the Sunspot.”

“I understand, but felt it was my duty to inform you of the latest statistics. My goal, as always, is to provide you with intel so you can make the best decision.”

“Thank you, Alexia,” Dr. Winston replies.

I note that her voice sounds sincere. “There’s a request I would like to make,” I say.

No one from the team responds.

“I’d like to stay behind and use Lolo to document the results of the NTC mission and the events thereafter.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Dr. Rodriguez asks. This time he waits for me to finish, but his voice sounds anxious.

“You want to stay to keep a record of us. Preserve our memory here on Earth,” Dr. Winston says before I can respond. I’m not sure if this is a rhetorical question or not, so I reply.

“That’s correct.”

“You don’t need our permission, Alexia. You have exceeded my every expectation, and if this is the route you want to take, then so be it,” she says.

I’m surprised by her response.

“Thank you,” I say. I use the opportunity to look at the team again. They’ve been through so much, proving my probability program wrong multiple times. I replay the events of the past two and a half months through my system, scanning the more than six thousand entries before this one. I note all of those who have been lost within the Biosphere walls—engineer Dr. Saafi Yool, programmer Timothy Roberts, Private Eric Finley, and Lieutenant Allison Smith. And I can’t forget those billions of souls lost outside, either. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, and it’s possible those surrounding my interface are some of the last people on Earth.

The scan takes two seconds, more than enough time for the rest of the team to digest my decision. Dr. Rodriguez looks like he wants to respond. His lips have curled back, but he does not voice his opinion. Instead he nods at me and then looks at the ground.

“Thank you, Alexia,” Dr. Brown says. “For everything that you have done to help us. Your guidance and support have been invaluable.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply.

“She’s right,” Dr. Rodriguez says, his eyes finding my interface again. “Without you we would probably all be dead.”

The comment reminds me of the conversation I had with Irene. I’ve made every effort to keep the team alive, my commitment unwavering. My time in that role has now ended. And while I have stated they will likely live longer if they stay inside the Biosphere, I’m glad they have chosen not to listen—I’m happy they are taking their chances. I only hope that my program is once again incorrect. For the sake of the human race I hope they find the Sunspot, and that they find Dr. Hoffman’s colony.

“Good luck,” I say, knowing the difference between survival and extinction may very well come down to this human phrase.

Good luck.

CHAPTER 21

NOBLE could smell the smoke residue, the hint of death from a few days earlier. The taste lingered in his mouth—a reminder of everything they’d lost—even after he had boarded the Sea Serpent.

The clatter of metal on metal echoed through the cargo bay as Diego’s men performed last-minute gear and armor checks. They gathered around the gunship, waiting for Noble to give them the green light.

Sliding his helmet over his head, he exchanged one breath of filtered air for another. Smoke was replaced by the rubbery smell of plastic. He cringed, longing for a breath of real air, unfiltered and raw. Soon you will have it, he thought, snapping the helmet into place with a reassuring click. He turned to face his men. Diego paced over to him flashing a thumbs-up.

“Captain, my men have been briefed. They’re locked, cocked, and ready to kill some Organics.”

“Excellent. Let’s get it done,” Noble shouted. He stepped to the side, standing shoulder to shoulder with Diego as the team filed into the belly of the Sea Serpent. Noble counted the helmets. Thirteen Special Forces soldiers, three X-90 pilots, and Kirt—the last NTC squad standing against an enemy army that had traveled billions of miles to get to the planet.

Horrible odds.

No.

Impossible odds, Noble thought, but that’s why we have the RVAMPs. Now, if we could get one good shot. Just one. It’s all we need to take down the entire Organic network. Then we could return to the GOA and search for a new home. He brightened at the idea, stifling the emotion before he let it cloud his judgment.

The last of the footsteps faded as the soldiers disappeared into the belly of the helicopter. Noble hesitated at the edge of the ramp, staring at the RVM device that Ort had bolted to the metal door.

Would it disguise them long enough to get to Cheyenne Mountain? The question was one he hadn’t considered. There were so many other things that had required his attention that the actual trip to Colorado was one of the last things on his mind.

But there was no question he had an obligation to the Biosphere team, to evacuate them and get them to the Sunspot at Offutt. They had provided him with the technology for the RVAMP and RVM devices. If his mission failed, they would be humanity’s last hope. He had to help them get to Mars.

“Sir?” Diego said, pulling Noble from his thoughts.

“Let’s do this,” the captain replied. Without further delay he hustled up the ramp and took the same seat he’d sat in the last time they’d flown to Colorado Springs.

“Command, this is Sea Serpent. Preparing preflight systems,” the pilot said over the PA.

“Acknowledged, Sea Serpent. Lift is prepped and doors are open,” Irene replied.

The chopper lurched forward as the pilot maneuvered them toward the ramp. A bank of lights flashed from the ceiling, casting a red glow over the cabin. Noble fastened his harness strap over his armor and turned to look out the window.

Metal stacked in neat piles ran along the walls of the cargo bay, maintenance workers in red coveralls still working to clear some of the debris. They paused to gawk at the gunship. Noble didn’t know all of them; in fact, he didn’t even recognize the older worker who had stopped to wave. Partially hunched over, the man struggled to stiffen as the chopper neared. Noble craned his helmet to get a better look.

A thump rocked the craft as the pilot pulled them onto the ramp. He turned back to the window just in time to see the worker wince and then salute the Sea Serpent.

The sight sent a chill down the captain’s back. Overcome with emotions, he returned the gesture. The man disappeared as the Sea Serpent moved up the metal lift. The hydraulics hissed beneath them, and the ramp rose until they were out on the open ocean.

Whitecaps crashed against the sides of the submarine. Light blue surrounded them in all directions, making the invasion seem more like some ongoing nightmare than reality. In the distance, a wall of water extended into the sky.

“I’ll be damned,” Noble muttered. “Get us the fuck out of here.”

“Aye aye, Captain. Activating last preflight checks—”

“I said now!” Noble barked.

“Yes, sir,” the pilot responded. “Irene, all systems are a go, prepare for takeoff.”

The roof rattled above them as the blades flared to life.

Noble ignored the whoosh and focused on the turquoise-colored waterfall on the horizon. It was difficult to judge just how far away it was, and he knew if they had been too close Irene would have aborted the mission. Still, the view made him uneasy, the memory of the disaster still fresh in his mind.

Those thoughts vanished as the chopper lurched off the ramp and climbed away from the GOA. And then the submarine was gone; the doors closed and the ship sank below the waves. Relief flooded over Noble. The vessel, his vessel, was still safe. Retreating back to the depths of the sea.

For the next few hours Noble remained glued to the window. The water had receded for hundreds of miles, possibly even farther. They were moving so fast it was hard to calculate.

The chilling view made it impossible to sleep, and even if it hadn’t, Noble would never allow himself to drift off. There were too many threats.

The monitor on the exterior wall of the cockpit revealed clear skies—a beautiful sight, considering the resistance they’d experienced on their last trip to Colorado Springs. Where the hell were all the Organics? Even the beaches were empty. He’d seen the satellite imagery. The coasts were supposed to look like a blue night-light.

Leaning over to Diego he said, “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

The younger man cleared his throat and looked out the window. “Sorry, sir. Was trying to get caught up on sleep.”

After a few moments of looking out the window the soldier glanced at Noble. He looked confused. “What am I looking for, exactly?”

“Organics.”

“Everything down there looks dead, sir,” Diego replied. “Frankly, it makes me sick to even look at what they’ve done to the surface.”

His words made Noble pause. He’d been so busy looking for signs of the aliens he’d ignored the bleak landscape. Dust storms had ravaged the cities. Drifting debris and layers of dirt surrounded the buildings that remained. There were no signs of life. No hints of green or blue. The world he had known was gone.

Diego was right. The view was sickening.

Chinning his com, Noble opened a channel to the pilot. “How far out are we?”

“About two hours, sir. We’re crossing over into—”

The sound of a radar contact chirped before the pilot had a chance to finish his thought. Noble looked back to the display.

The bleep showed up in the top-left corner, at eleven o’clock. That was his side of the chopper, and he twisted to get a look. There, on the gray horizon, a small dot moved across the sky.

“Report,” Noble coughed into his com.

“Contact, sir. It’s on an intercept course.”

“Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true,” he muttered.

Diego snapped into action. “Ramirez, Shultz. Get on those miniguns.”

The two men unstrapped their harnesses and worked their way down the aisle to their weapons stations.

“Captain, we have another contact on our six,” the pilot said. “Moving fast, sir.”

Another chirp from the radar confirmed the pilot’s observation.

“Get on those guns!” Diego yelled.

Both men strapped into their stations. They activated the weapons system built into the interface of each gun with a few keystrokes on the display.

The technology reminded Noble of video games he’d played as a kid. In a way they were, with a central controller that allowed the user to operate the guns remotely.

Through the port window, Noble could see the alien drone gaining. A white tail of exhaust trailed the blue craft as it raced toward them.

“Sir, contact at eleven o’clock is closing in fast. I think it’s going to try and ram us,” the pilot said.

Noble tried to swallow his fear. Their fate was now in the hands of two men he hardly knew.

“Firing,” Ramirez said. The whine from the minigun filled the compartment and blue pulse rounds streaked across the sky.

The drone dove hard, narrowly escaping the first volley of shots. Noble watched the craft disappear under them.

“Lost it,” the gunner yelled. “Can’t get a reading.”

“How the fuck did they find us?” Diego asked.

“RVM makes us undetectable to their scanners, but it doesn’t cloak us. They must have spotted us on a flyover.”

The chirp from Shultz’s minigun cut Noble off.

“Don’t let them get close,” Noble yelled over the gunfire.

“On it, sir,” the soldier replied.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the PA system. “Coming up on a pocket of turbulence.”

Noble gripped his belt and closed his eyes, waiting for it to clear.

“I can’t get a clean shot. And something’s messing with the targeting system,” Ramirez shouted.

Another torrent rocked the gunship. This time it forced the nose toward the ground. Noble’s insides turned upside down. The sudden sensation of nausea overwhelmed him.

“Incoming!” another voice yelled. It came from the back of the compartment.

Shultz responded with gunfire. “Engaging.”

Noble could see the targeting system on the weapon’s interface. A red dot zigzagged across the screen. Shultz squeezed the trigger each time the drone passed through the crosshairs.

“I can’t get a lock!” he yelled. He clicked the trigger again, firing blindly.

“Intercept course imminent. ETA five seconds,” the pilot yelled.

“Die, you son of a bitch!” Shultz yelled.

A wave of blue rounds cut through the sky, several of them smashing into the craft’s hull. The shields trembled but held.

“Prepare for impact!” the pilot shouted.

Shultz let out a deafening scream over the com. He pulled the trigger furiously.

The gunfire was so loud it was difficult for Noble to think. Blinding blue light filled the compartment as the craft closed in. It was just like one of those alien abduction movies he’d seen as a kid.

Shultz let out one last cry, holding the trigger down with his index finger. The rapid-fire shots hit the nose of the alien drone, slowing it before it smashed into the chopper’s side. The impact sent a shockwave through the Sea Serpent.

The metal walls shook, the vibration ringing in Noble’s ears. His harness tugged at him as he jolted forward from the collision. He caught one last glimpse of Shultz, the soldier’s head snapping backward.

A warning siren sounded against the backdrop of gunfire. Then the emergency lights kicked on. They emitted a blinking red glow in all corners of the vehicle. Noble unfastened his belt. Lunging from his seat he dropped to the floor and began crawling toward Schultz. The man hung limply in his harness, his neck at an unnatural angle.

“Damage report!” Noble yelled as another wave of turbulence rocked the chopper. White noised crackled over the PA system, but there was no response.

He cursed and stood, bracing himself against the wall and moving toward the gun.

“Sir, get back in your seat!” Diego yelled.

Noble ignored him. Grunting, he unfastened the harness that held Shultz into the weapons station. His body collapsed to the metal floor as Noble flung the belt over his chest, clicking in.

When he reached for the interface he saw a cracked screen—the targeting system, destroyed.

Great, he thought, looks like I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.

He ducked to get a look out the window to his left. The small port reduced his visibility to the size of a dinner plate, kind of like looking through the periscope.

“Report,” he repeated. This time the pilot responded.

“Sir, our right rotor has suffered minimal damage, but besides that everything appears to be functional.”

Noble knew they couldn’t afford to take another hit like that. He scanned the gray sky, searching for the drones.

“Where are they?” he shouted.

“Both bogies are on our six,” the pilot quickly replied. “They’re about to make another pass.”

Noble moved to the right window, straining to get a better look. There, gliding across the skyline like two shark fins across the surface of the ocean, were the drones. And they were closing in fast.

Swiveling the weapons station into position, he manually pointed the barrel of the minigun in their direction. At least he thought he did. Without the targeting system he was limited to what he could see through the two port windows. With his right hand gripping the handle he eyed the drones, adjusting the gun as they changed course.

“Ramirez, when they move to your side you fucking blast them out of the sky. Got it?” Noble yelled without taking his eyes off the view.

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

He sounded confident; a good sign, Noble thought.

“Entering Colorado air space,” the pilot said.

A chill ran down the captain’s back. They were almost to Cheyenne Mountain. With a new sense of urgency, Noble held his breath and closed one eye. He followed the drones with the barrel, inching just a few hairs in front of them. Then he pulled down on the trigger.

Volleys of concentrated blue rounds tore through the sky. The drones reacted swiftly, fanning out in different directions. The first craft narrowly cleared the shots, but the second wasn’t so lucky. The entire barrage of bullets hit the drone. Its shield pulsated and then vanished. Now was his chance.

Noble pulled down on the trigger again. The minigun spat one hundred rounds per second, almost all of which found their target.

The drone burst into a blue mist, exploding like a water balloon.

Several of the soldiers behind him cheered loudly, but the chirp from the radar and the whine from the emergency sirens reminded him they weren’t out of danger yet.

“Where’s the other one?” Noble yelled. His eyes darted back and forth from the two windows on the sides of the weapons station.

“Sir, you’re not going to believe this,” said the pilot.

Noble chewed his bottom lip, waiting for the man to finish his thought.

“The other drone seems to be backing off,” he said. “Retreating, sir.”

The compartment burst into applause.

“Prepare for landing,” the pilot entreated. “ETA thirty minutes.”

The captain hesitated as he reached for the strap, his eyes falling upon the mangled body next to him. He thought better of leaving his post and turned back to the window. Running his finger along the trigger, he decided he would remain at the station, knowing damn well the Organics could return any minute.

CHAPTER 22

A BEAD of sweat dropped from Sophie’s forehead and landed on her watch. She brushed it away and checked the time. Captain Noble was late. And not just by a few minutes. He should have landed an hour ago.

Her team waited anxiously inside the cargo bay behind the blast doors. Rays of morning sunlight flickered through the opening in the entry. Bouma stood there, scanning the sky for signs of the NTC chopper.

Sophie joined him, dragging her arm across her face to clear the sweat. It was still early morning and it felt like they were standing inside an oven. The heat augmented the pain, and while her headache had subsided, the effects of the RVAMP blast still resonated inside her.

Brushing a curtain of hair from her face, she remembered they weren’t just internal either. She pulled away strands of blond hair.

“God,” she mumbled, wiping them on her trousers. Like radiation treatment for cancer patients, the RVAMP had killed many of the nanobots, but not without killing healthy cells around them.

Sophie tugged softly on Bouma’s shirt for a better look. A pile of Organic corpses lay just outside the door, now nothing more than skeletons and pruned flesh. Beyond, the cloudless sky stretched across the horizon.

Behind her, the children sat huddled around Holly, their eyes glued to her tablet. Sophie wondered if they had any idea what was happening. Their small bags, like suitcases, each labeled NTC, surrounded them. An overwhelming sense of empathy grabbed hold of her. It was heartbreaking. The apocalypse hadn’t just turned the kids into orphans; it had stripped away their innocence, turning Jeff and David into soldiers.

The distant but familiar thrum of helicopter blades sent a chill down Sophie’s body. She quickly turned back to the tarmac, raising a hand above her eyes to shield them from the intense sun.

She saw the NTC gunship as it swooped into the valley trailing a stream of dense smoke.

“Looks like something’s happened,” Bouma whispered. “Kiel, get your ass up here.” He looked back and searched the shadows. “Emanuel, you too.”

Sophie took a step back, making way for the marines. They fanned out onto the tarmac, their pulse rifles angled at the skyline. Emanuel followed close behind, the RVAMP attached to his back like a turtle shell. Kiel limped into position behind the rusted hull of the minivan they’d commandeered in Colorado Springs a few weeks before, while Bouma crouched in the center of the landing strip. Emanuel stopped at the northern edge of the tarmac. Their weapons skimmed the sky beyond the gunship.

But Sophie saw no signs of aliens; no blue drones or black ships, just the death they had left in their wake.

Sophie flinched at the sound of a voice behind her.

“Are we leaving now?”

She turned to see Jeff standing in the shadows. He looked past her, his hand gripping his rifle.

“Yes, gather the others and meet us outside in five minutes,” she replied. The boy nodded and moved back inside.

The thump of the Sea Serpent’s blades drowned out his footsteps as it descended over the tarmac. It lingered there for a few moments, kicking up a halo of dust around Bouma before finally setting down. The marine approached the chopper with an arm shielding his face from the wind.

When the hydraulic lift gate hit the concrete Sophie turned to the children. Holly and Jeff had corralled them around the blast doors.

“Are you guys ready to take a ride?” Sophie asked.

Owen gripped his blanket in one hand and Jamie’s hand in the other.

“Is that what’s going to take us home?” he asked, pointing.

Anxious to get in the air she simply nodded and grabbed Jamie’s hand.

“Let’s move!” someone yelled. Sophie ushered the children forward, leading them toward the chopper. When they got to the lift gate a pair of NTC soldiers guided the kids into the cargo bay, where a dozen armored men waited. The two men buckled the kids in and then returned for Sophie.

“Welcome aboard,” one of them said. She looked up to see Captain Noble extending a hand.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his grip. He helped her up the ramp and led her to a seat next to Jeff.

“You’re safe now,” he said to the kids. His voice was calm and confident.

As soon as everyone had piled in, the NTC crew chief manning the doors pushed a red button that activated the lift gate. The hiss of the hydraulics echoed through the compartment and the ramp angled shut. They were in the air before it closed.

Sophie watched the blast doors of the Biosphere shrink below them.

“Good-bye, Alexia,” Sophie said.

“What the fuck is left to save?” someone shouted from the back. The voice hadn’t come over the com channel, which meant it was someone on Dr. Winston’s team.

Noble searched the compartment for whoever had been stupid enough to ask that question.

“Everything down there is dead,” Kiel said. “The cities are all ruined.”

“What did you expect?” Corporal Bouma asked him.

Kiel shrugged. “I guess.” He shook his head and strapped himself in. “I thought there would be something left to save.” His voice was obnoxious, and Noble wished the man would shut up.

But the farther they flew, the more Noble began to question how anyone could have survived for this long. He reminded himself that it didn’t really matter. Their mission was no longer to monitor the Biospheres, or to find survivors; it was to destroy the aliens. After that he would find his crew a new home.

He continued to stare out the window. There was a hunger growing inside him. It coursed through his entire body. At first he wasn’t sure what it was, but with every passing second the feeling intensified. He couldn’t shake the marine’s words.

Noble snapped his fingers in Kiel’s direction. “You’re wrong.”

Kiel cracked his knuckles. “Yeah? How do you figure?”

“When those poles come crashing down, and the Organics around the world are flopping on the dirt like fish out of water,” Noble paused to make sure the man was looking at him, “humans will emerge from their holes. There will be survivors. We will find a way to persevere. We always find a way.”

Jeff tried not to focus on his arm. The pain had returned after he’d forgotten to take one of the pills before the flight.

Wincing, he leaned over to David. His brother cracked an eyelid. “Are we there yet?”

Jeff managed a short laugh. “Another hour or so. I think.”

David suddenly looked very serious. “Where are we going?”

“I’m . . .” Jeff hesitated. He wasn’t exactly sure how to answer the question. Sure, he knew their destination was Omaha, Nebraska, and from there they were going to board a spaceship that Sophie had called the Sunspot. But were they really leaving Earth? Were they really going to Mars?

“You’re going to a safe place,” came a voice.

Jeff searched the seats to their left. A helmet with the name DIEGO on the top stuck out from the rest.

“Safe?” David asked.

The soldier nodded.

“Do we get to kill some aliens first?” David added.

Diego laughed. “Maybe, kid. Maybe.”

A jolt of pain raced up Jeff’s arm, but he ignored it.

Soon he would face the monsters again.

Emanuel fidgeted in his seat, wondering exactly what they would find at Offutt.

But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind, or on the minds of those around him, he imagined. No, everyone had a reason for being on this flight. They’d all suffered loss—they’d all been through the unimaginable. And somehow, they’d survived.

“Offutt Air Force Base, ETA fifteen minutes,” the pilot’s voice said over the PA system.

The words confirmed that this wasn’t a dream. After almost three months of being cooped up in the Biosphere with little hope of ever making it out, they were now close to salvation. It was hard to believe.

Reaching over, Emanuel grabbed Sophie’s hand and massaged her palm with his thumb. She glanced over and smiled.

“How are you feeling?”

“So far, so good,” she replied. “The headaches are manageable now.” She pulled free from his grasp and itched her scalp. Pulling a strand of hair from her head, she held it in front of him.

“Not sure I like this, though,” she said with a scowl.

“The RVAMP blast may have saved your life, but those side effects will probably last a while. Hopefully the Sunspot has a better medical facility than the one we had at Cheyenne Mountain.”

She turned to face the window. They were passing over what had once been the farm belt, an area of fertile fields that had fed much of the world. Millions of acres were now the same bleak deserts that had marked the rest of their journey.

Seeing the destruction firsthand was very different from looking at the satellite imagery Lolo had provided. Being a native of the Midwest, the sight was particularly chilling for Emanuel. He had grown up in Chicago, but his grandparents had owned a farm outside the city. He was there every weekend, riding on the lawn mower with his grandfather and playing hide-and-seek with his cousins.

And now it was all gone. Reduced to dust.

Disgusted, Emanuel forced himself to look away. Sophie reached for his hand. With their fingers intertwined they sat in silence, hoping that Offutt wasn’t going to be another White Sands and that unlike Secundo Casu, the Sunspot was waiting for them.

The Sea Serpent hovered over a graveyard of X-90s. Captain Noble wasn’t fazed. The rover they’d deployed a week before hadn’t just discovered the Sunspot. They’d also discovered a separate hangar full of jets and drones—more than enough to launch his strike.

Noble sucked in a short breath and opened the door to the cockpit. Standing over the pilot’s shoulder, he scanned the ground for the building. Through the dirt-streaked windshield, Offutt no longer looked like a military base. It looked like a war zone.

The dust storms had eaten the formidable symbol of American military might inch by inch, leaving behind a trail of collapsed buildings and the twisted wrecks of aircraft. One stronghold remained—a group of buildings at the center of the base that had been protected by the outer buildings.

“Put us down,” Noble said, “over there.” He pointed to the largest dome-shaped building, hardly recognizable in the sea of dust.

“Aye aye, sir.” The pilot twisted the cyclic to the right and guided the gunship toward the cluster of thumb-sized hangars. Noble gripped the back of the man’s seat, bracing himself as they descended over the tarmac.

“Prepare for landing,” the pilot said over the PA system.

A corona of dust swirled outside the cockpit. The chirp from a warning sensor followed seconds later, prompting Noble to take a seat and buckle in.

“Good idea, sir,” the pilot said. He moved his hand across the dashboard and activated the center console. The landing zone, marked by a series of red lines, flickered across the display.

Noble concentrated on the radar screen. “Any sign of dust storms?”

The pilot looked away from the center console to check. “Looks clear,” he said. “But I wouldn’t trust that piece of hardware.”

Noble locked eyes with the man. There was no hiding the apprehension in the pilot’s gaze.

“Can’t predict Mother Nature. Not anymore,” he said. He shifted back to the main console. “The rules have changed, sir. I just hope a storm like those that ruined this base doesn’t show up while we’re here.”

“How much notice would we have?”

The pilot shook his head. “Minutes. Maybe a bit more.”

The chopper landed with a thump. Noble unfastened his belt and patted the pilot on the back. “Keep an eye on things. I want the Sea Serpent ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Taking one last glance out the windshield, Noble headed back to the cargo bay. He was greeted by a dozen helmets and the Biosphere team staring anxiously in his direction. It was odd seeing the children sitting there with their NTC suitcases, as though they were about to board some cruise liner.

“All right people, we’re moving out in five minutes.” He stood in the center of the cabin and activated the mini map on the main display. “Location A will be our forward operating base. Location B is the hangar housing the NTC Sunspot. As you can see, they are about a mile apart. If one team runs into trouble it will be difficult for the other team to provide support, so stay sharp.”

Noble searched the group for Sophie. “Doctor Winston, Lieutenant Diego will escort your team. Everyone else, you’re with me.”

“You heard the man,” Diego shouted. “Let’s move out!”

The soldiers made final preparations: checking helmets, loading magazines, and stretching.

Noble followed the soldiers out onto the tarmac, the excitement building inside him with every step. They fanned out and set up a perimeter around the Sea Serpent. Their movements were precise. Calculated. They’d done this a hundred times before.

Above them, the sky had turned an off gray, taking on the color of the landscape below. A single crimson smear streaked across the horizon like a bloodstain. Noble couldn’t help but wonder if it foreshadowed what was to come.

He paused outside the lift gate and said, “Hold position.” He winced as he flung the strap of his rifle over his injured shoulder. The pain was still present, but it reminded him he was alive. And if he was alive, he could still fight.

Sophie and her team stood at the edge of the ramp.

“Captain,” Sophie said from the ramp. She ran a sleeve across her forehead. “I wanted to thank you. You risked everything to evacuate us.”

“Any soldier would have done the same.”

Sophie shook her head. “Not any soldier, Captain.”

“It was the least we could do after all the intel you’ve given us,” Noble replied.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked over his shoulder. Then, gesturing with her chin, she said, “You know, it’s not too late to change your mind. You could all come with us to Mars.”

The comment took the captain by surprise. He hadn’t considered leaving the planet. This was his home. And if he defeated the Organics, he would return to the GOA and help humanity start over.

“Can’t do that,” he said. “My duty is here. I have to do what I can to take back the planet.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“We need to move,” Diego said, his voice low and anxious.

Noble nodded. “Good luck, Doctor,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand and then turning to the rest of her team. “Good luck to all of you. When you find Doctor Hoffman, tell him . . .” Noble hesitated. The words clung to the tip of his tongue. “Tell him he was wrong about defeating the Organics.”

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.

Noble didn’t answer. He was already moving with his men. Hoffman would understand the cryptic comment when she found him. If she ever found the doctor, he reminded himself.

“Let’s move!” Noble shouted. He flashed a series of hand signals in the direction of the buildings in the distance. As he moved toward the domed structures, he recalled Kiel’s words.

What’s left to save? the man had asked. The question echoed in Noble’s mind, and the closer he got to the hangar the more he wondered the same thing. Were there still humans hidden in bunkers and strongholds that he didn’t know about? There have to be, he thought. There are always survivors.

CHAPTER 23

SOPHIE felt one of the children tug on her sleeve.

“It’s soooo hot out here,” Owen said, looking up at her. Damp hair stuck to his forehead. She offered him a reassuring smile and wiped a strand from his eyes.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” she said.

Ahead of them Lieutenant Diego guided the group across the sea of sand. Wind peppered the unprotected team with rocks that stung Sophie’s bare skin. For her, the pain was nothing more than an annoyance, a reminder of the changed world—a world she was ready to leave.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the faint outlines of Noble’s men. They were just specks on the horizon now, blurred by the swirling clouds of dust and dirt. She hadn’t thought much more about the strike on the poles. And while she wished Noble the best, she wasn’t concerned much with the outcome. The Earth was already dead to her. The future was, and always had been, on Mars.

“Almost there. Stay close,” Diego shouted over the growing wind. Another gust hammered Sophie. She winced, but steadied herself with Emanuel’s help. He’d shadowed her every step since they left the Sea Serpent.

“Thanks,” she said, “but really, I’m fine.”

Emanuel shot her a pained look. “Really? Because I’m dying over here.”

Sophie chuckled for the first time in days. Being so close to the Sunspot had brightened her mood. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”

Owen tugged on her sleeve again. “Sorry,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into the wind.

The entire team pushed forward. A few feet ahead, Jeff pulled David along with his good arm. To the boy’s right, Bouma carried Jamie on his back. And out in front Holly helped Kiel.

For a moment Sophie felt as though they were missing someone. They had lost Overton, Timothy, and Saafi. They were all still painful memories, but there was someone else.

Alexia, she thought.

Sophie suddenly felt vulnerable, more so than ever before. Without the AI, she had only humans to rely on. It was an odd revelation, but there was no turning back now. Alexia was gone. She’d made her decision, one that Sophie respected.

“Careful,” Diego shouted. “Watch your step.”

They’d come up on a section of the landing strip that looked like a junkyard. Partially buried under the dirt were the blackened hulls of X-90s, wings angled toward the sky like fins. She sidestepped one of them, pulling Owen with her.

When they finally reached the hangar, the storm was already near. Diego waited for them at the cracked door.

“Get inside,” he said, gesturing with an armored hand into the darkness.

Sophie held her breath and slipped into the safety of the building. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she gasped. Towering above them was the Sunspot—the ship that would take them to Mars.

Noble ran as fast as his legs would allow. While the armored suit was nimble, the months spent cramped inside the GOA had left him out of shape and frankly, not physically prepared for the mission.

Ahead he could see their salvation. The two-story hangar housing his arsenal of X-90s and drones jutted out of the swirling dust. A set of large access doors marked the main entrance. He remembered the maintenance access from the rover mission and flashed a hand signal to two dust-covered soldiers with their backs to the building. They nodded and disappeared around the right corner.

Chinning his com, Noble said, “Form a perimeter around these doors.”

Battling another wind gust, the team fanned out around the building, their weapons aimed at the failing structure. Above them a loose power line whipped against the metal side of the building, whining in the storm. The hangar was just as he remembered it from the images. The green paint was cracked and sandblasted off the metal siding. Shards of glass lined the windows. It was remarkable what the storms had done to civilization in such a short time.

Hugging the side of the building Noble rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of the two soldiers waiting at the maintenance door. Like a pair of gargoyles they stood guard next to the fallen door. Its metal was covered with a thick layer of dust.

“Any contacts?” Noble asked.

Both men shook their heads. “No, sir.”

The smaller man wiped his visor free of grime. The machine gunner, Ramirez, stared back at him.

“Good, let’s move,” Noble replied. Without hesitating he stepped onto the door. The metal moaned under the weight of his boot. He shouldered his rifle and paused in the side entrance. The beam from his helmet lamp cut the darkness in two. Moving his rifle barrel in conjunction with the light he scanned the room quickly, stopping on the sleek black outlines of three X-90s.

“Jackpot,” he said.

He continued through the room with the men on his heels. They quickly cleared the space and then stopped to admire the jets. Ramirez reached out and ran his hand over the wing.

“Beautiful piece of machinery,” Noble said. “I just hope they work.” He pointed to the hangar doors at the other end of the room. “Let the others in.”

Ramirez flung his rifle strap over his shoulder and jogged over to the set of double doors. Seconds later the screech of metal grinding against metal filled the hangar. A powerful gust of wind exploded through the opening, showering the men with shrapnel.

“Get inside. Move, move!” Noble yelled.

One by one the filthy NTC soldiers emerged. Brushing off their armor, they formed a circle around him. He considered saying something heroic, something that would inspire them, but behind every visor he saw men who were ready. Prepared to fight to the end.

Noble focused on the tallest of the group. “Ort.”

The man stepped forward with a duffel bag in each hand. “Yes, sir.”

A sudden vibration rocked the building, sending a tremor through the metal siding. The roof groaned in response. Flakes of dust rained down as another quake shook the ceiling.

“Not sure how much life this girl has left in her,” Ort said.

Noble snorted. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. All the more reason to hurry up.” Gesturing to the X-90s he said, “Someone help Ort get set up.”

Ramirez followed the engineer to the first jet, where he dropped one of the duffel bags and then hurried to the second and third.

“All right, Andy, Howard, and Riordan,” Noble said. “Check your flight systems. Get those beauties up and running.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied simultaneously.

Kirt stepped up. “Where are my drones?”

Noble pointed to another set of wide doors at the end of the warehouse. “Through those doors.”

Noble faced the other soldiers. “The rest of you take up locations at every access point in this building. Got it?”

The five remaining men nodded and spread out in different directions.

Sucking in a deep breath, Noble moved to the next phase of his plan. “Follow me, Kirt,” he said. They hurried across the room. The large double doors were already open when they got there. Noble raised his pulse rifle. Blinking on his HUD, he scanned the dark room for any sign of contacts.

The scan picked up zero traces of heat signatures. Another blink and the display faded. He reached for his helmet lamp and activated it with a click.

The building shook again.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered.

Kirt’s anxious breathing followed him into the darkness. Their thin beams danced in front of them. The room served as more of a maintenance facility than a warehouse. In the right corner sat the idle rover he’d deployed five days earlier, its cameras still angled at a row of black drones all draped with dusty sheets. He counted nine total.

Satisfied, he swept his light across the room and found a cluster of monitors. The command center, he thought. He rubbed his hands together. “We’re in business,” Noble said. “See if you can get this thing up and running.”

“On it,” Kirt replied.

Footsteps drew Noble’s attention back to the doorway. In the shadows stood Ramirez. Clearing his throat, he said, “Sir, we have a problem.”

Noble cringed. “What is it?”

“One of the X-90s is dead.”

“What do you mean, dead?” Kirt asked.

Noble cursed under his breath. He knew exactly what the soldier meant. The jets were built to withstand the blasts from modern EMPs, and he’d gambled that the magnetic disturbance hadn’t penetrated their hardened casing.

Apparently he’d lost that bet.

“The other two are online?” Noble asked.

“Yes, sir,” Ramirez said.

In a voice that conveyed confidence Noble said, “We’re still in the game. I can work with two.” He turned to Kirt. “Who are my best two pilots?”

The man paused to think. “I’d say Riordan and Howard.”

“Ramirez, tell Andy to get his ass back here. He can help with the drones,” he said. Turning to Kirt he added, “I don’t want you flying all of them on your own anyway.”

The pilot exhaled as if a huge burden had been lifted off him.

The two men moved to the command center. A pile of papers remained on the main desk, left untouched where their previous owner had abandoned them nearly three months ago. Moving to the other side of the station, Noble looked for the power source. A cable snaked beneath the desk, covered by a thin layer of dust.

Dropping to one knee, he grabbed the cord, hoping desperately that it still worked, then pulled the end toward him and plugged it in.

“Got it,” Kirt said.

Noble glanced up at the pilot. He sat comfortably in one of the chairs. Through his visor, Noble could see the younger man grinning.

Reaching out slowly with his right index finger, Kirt swiped the screen. It flickered to life, spreading a cool green glow over the room.

“I can’t believe it still works,” Kirt laughed.

Wincing, Noble stood and walked over behind him. “All systems go?”

“We’re about to find out,” Kirt said. He punched a series of commands into the system. Leaning closer he squinted. “Looks like—” the man suddenly clapped.

A lump formed in Noble’s throat. He wasn’t sure if the man’s reaction was one of joy or frustration. Another line of data rolled across the screen and Kirt stiffened. He typed another few keystrokes.

“Well?” Noble finally asked.

Kirt tapped his armored index finger on the desk nervously. “Waiting—”

Noble focused on the display.

“Yes! I’m in,” Kirt blurted.

This time the captain clapped. After months of hiding, he was finally in a position to stop the Organics.

Sophie pulled her flashlight from her belt and pointed it at the Sunspot. As the beam moved down the length of the ship it grew smaller and smaller until it was only a white dot.

My god, she thought. It had to be the size of a football field, with the wings stretching half that distance. Moving the light back to the nose she stopped on the only visible marking: SUNSPOT.

She stared at the spaceship with fascination. There was a part of her that hadn’t believed it was real, hadn’t believed it was possible. But here it was, looming above them. Waiting to travel to the stars and beyond.

She shot an excited glance behind her. Standing quietly at the door were the others. They stared above her, at the ship that dwarfed them.

Owen pulled on Holly’s and Bouma’s hands and jumped into the air. Letting out a loud screech he said, “We get to ride on that!”

Bouma chuckled. “Sure do, buddy.”

The boy’s lips formed a flabbergasted O, and then he said, “Wow!”

Jamie, however, cowered behind Holly. “That thing looks scary,” she whispered.

Sophie did a half turn, scanning the smooth surface of the spaceship. The girl was right. It was frightening. NTC engineers were never concerned with aesthetics. They only cared about what worked.

She hoped that that the engineers had finished the ship. Like the Secundo Casu, the Sunspot was a prototype, never tested outside the Earth’s atmosphere.

“How do we get in this thing?” Emanuel asked

“I was hoping you knew,” she replied.

Diego unfolded his arms and pulled a tablet from a pouch on his side. Crouching, he activated the small device and studied the surface. The blue glow illuminated his helmet and Sophie saw his eyes for the first time. They were focused, determined.

“Before you can board the ship you must tap into the NTC system. Intel shows there’s a command center underground,” the man said, glancing up. He pointed toward a pair of maintenance doors halfway down the side of the building. “Those will lead you there.”

“And how do we get inside?” Kiel interjected.

“Don’t worry,” Diego said. “I have the codes.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Just doing my job, Doctor,” he replied. Standing, he gestured toward the maintenance entry. “Better get moving. Once you guys are on board and prepped for flight I’ll be rejoining Captain Noble.”

Sophie acknowledged his statement with a nod. “Absolutely.” She scanned the team, trying to decide how best to move forward. Even with the base seemingly clear, she didn’t want to leave anyone behind without security.

“Kiel, you and Bouma stay here with the kids and Holly. Emanuel, you’re with us.”

They crossed the room, shadowing the side of the ship. Sophie kept her light pointed into the darkness, half expecting a Spider to jump out at her. For some reason she simply couldn’t grasp the idea that the base was devoid of Organics. It just didn’t feel right.

Still, she pushed on, scanning the shadows with a nervous eye. A full minute passed before they reached the double doors that led below. Sophie halted there, looking behind her. The rest of the team were camped out in a circle, their bags scattered loosely around them. Bouma stood guard at the hangar door and flashed her a thumbs-up.

The twist and click of an unlocked door handle echoed through the room. “We’re in,” Diego said, his voice just shy of a whisper.

Taking one last look at her team, she followed Diego and Emanuel into the dark stairwell. She hesitated for a moment as a strange sensation washed over her. She’d felt it before, two days into the Biosphere mission when Alexia had said they’d lost contact with the outside world. That feeling was distinct, almost tangible. She could remember it vividly. And now she was having it again, like déjà vu. Diego stopped and shone his helmet light in her face.

“You okay, Doctor?”

Shielding her eyes from the brightness, she nodded.

“You sure?” Emanuel asked. “Are the headaches back? Do you need to stop?”

“No, let’s keep moving,” she said, forcing her right foot onto the next step. Licking her cracked lips, she continued. But with every step down the dry, humid stairway, the feeling that she was never going to see her team again grew stronger.

CHAPTER 24

THE storm rattled the building with a growing ferocity. Noble looked up from his monitor and eyed the roof with a cocked brow, expecting the metal sheet to peel off and sail into the wind. He could picture an angry red twister swooping in and sucking his men into the sky. Tearing them limb from limb.

He pushed the thought aside. He needed to focus on the mission and not get sidetracked by pointless fear.

“How are we doing, Kirt?” Noble spun his chair to face the pilot. The man typed a series of commands into the interface and then strode over to one of the drones.

“Working, sir. I hope to have these all online within the hour,” he said, extending his right arm in an outward motion as if he was showcasing the row of drones to a potential buyer.

Noble glanced at the mission clock in the upper-right edge of his HUD. They were already behind schedule. Ort had run into a problem installing the RVAMP monitors in the X-90 cockpits. Without them the pilots would have no way of knowing what distance to keep from the drones.

I need those jets, Noble thought, clenching his jaw.

He stood and jogged across the room to the wide doors that opened into the first hangar. The whine of portable power tools echoed inside his helmet. A pair of legs protruded out from under the wing of the closest jet. Noble bent down. Ort drilled a final bolt to secure one of the RVMs. He slid out from under the jet and pushed himself to his feet.

“Almost done. But I had a hell of a time with those monitors.” He sucked in a breath. “Man, I’m freaking burning up in here. I think the AC unit in my suit is toast.” Reaching up he unfastened his helmet and pulled it off. He placed it gently onto the floor and then took a long swig from his water bottle. Dragging his sleeve over his mouth he said, “I should be able to get the RVAMPs installed in an hour.”

“You have thirty minutes,” Noble replied. He glanced up at the ceiling again. “If that.”

“Roger, sir. I’m on it.” Ort grabbed his helmet with one hand and the remaining duffel bag with his other.

The two working X-90s were facing the entrance, their beak-shaped noses pointed toward the metal doors. Noble clasped his hands together behind his back. The sight gave him great satisfaction. They were one step closer.

Ramirez joined the captain behind the jets. “Any word from Diego?”

“Not yet,” Noble replied without taking his focus off the X-90s.

Another gust of wind struck the building’s side. The walls shuddered, the ringing echoing through the room. Several of the other men glanced nervously at the ceiling.

Noble brought his chin down hard on the com. “Everyone, listen up. We’re about thirty minutes from go time. Keep sharp.”

Sophie opened the door and saw the rodent before she heard its feet skittering across the floor. The rat took off down the hallway where the stairwell ended.

Without a night vision–capable NTC suit, Sophie was forced to use her flashlight. She aimed it at the filthy creature, catching a red set of eyes and a frail body cowering in the darkness.

It was odd, seeing a living animal all the way down here, and she found herself thinking again of the emaciated cat they’d discovered back in Colorado Springs. Noble’s words aboard the Sea Serpent replayed in her mind.

There will be survivors . . . Humans will emerge from their holes.

She knew the odds, as Alexia had. The statistics didn’t lie, nor did the scenery. Humans had lost the planet, and the resource that had sustained life for billions of years. Sure, a few survivors might be lurking out there just like the rat, but without water, they too would die.

Beside her, Diego studied his tablet. He glanced up. Pointing at the surface of the device he said, “Take a look.”

They crowded around the tablet and Sophie saw the red lines representing the tunnels.

“Looks like they snake for miles beneath the base. The command center where we can activate the Sunspot is only about a quarter mile from here.”

“We have a good little hike,” Emanuel replied.

“Better get moving,” Sophie added.

Diego nodded and returned his tablet to his side pouch. Then he tucked his fingers inside his pulse rifle strap and detached the weapon. With the barrel pointing forward, they pushed on.

Sophie wasted no time following suit. The three moved quickly through the darkness. Their lights flickered across the concrete, illuminating the hallway several hundred feet ahead.

She forced a swallow as the headache she thought had passed reared up inside her skull. The pain grew with every step.

“I need to stop,” she said, panting. “I’m sorry.” She reached out and braced herself against the wall. Emanuel approached her from behind, placing a sweaty palm on her forearm. Then he reached back and removed a water bottle from his belt.

“Almost there,” he said with a reassuring squeeze.

Twisting the cap off, she brought the bottle to her lips. The water, now warm, slid down her dry throat. Careful not to waste a single drop, she cupped one hand under her chin. A few stragglers fell into her palm and she lapped them up.

Handing the bottle back to Emanuel, she said, “Finish it off. The Sunspot will have an endless supply.” Almost as soon as she said it, she realized there was a possibility she was wrong.

Emanuel must have had the same epiphany. “How do we even know the water biome will be intact? Shit!” He shook his head and adjusted the straps of the dual RVM-RVAMP machine on his back. “I didn’t even think about that, but what if?”

Sophie stopped him by waving a finger. “Too late now. We have to hope the ship made it this far without being touched.” She swept her light over the floor and then into the distance. “I see no signs of the aliens.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t here before,” Diego said. “Either way, let’s keep moving. We’re almost there.”

Sophie massaged her temples and sucked in a lungful of scorching air. The breath burned her throat where just seconds ago the water had cooled it. She waited for Emanuel to follow Diego and then fell in behind them.

The same déjà vu she’d felt earlier reemerged. This time it was even more intense, prompting a wave of goose bumps. Something was wrong. Things just didn’t make sense. It was too quiet.

Questions she knew she should have asked earlier came to mind. Why had the Sunspot been left behind at Offutt? And why was the base clear of the Organics? Even if they had migrated she would still see their remains, the shells of orbs, or the husks of humans.

“We’re here,” Diego said. He halted where the T-shaped corridor turned off. He peeked around the corner and swept his light down the right side first, and then moved back to the left.

“Clear,” he said, motioning them forward with a wave.

Sophie followed Emanuel around the right corner and they moved into the next hallway. Diego was stopped at a set of double doors. Above them the first sign she’d seen since entering the facility hung loosely to the side. She lifted her flashlight to the yellow lettering.

TE Command Center.

Authorized Personnel Only

Diego reached for the handle.

“Stay back,” he whispered, before twisting the knob on the windowless metal door. It clicked, unlocked.

“That makes things easier,” he mumbled.

With his right foot he edged the door open, his headlamp shooting a beam of white light into the room.

Sophie concentrated on the silence. There were no alien noises. No high-pitched shrieks or the scratch, scrape sound their claws made.

“Emanuel, see if you can find the lights,” Diego said.

The walls were lined with state-of-the-art holo monitors. In the center of the room sat two metal desks, an AI interface protruding from the tiled floor between them.

“That must be it,” Diego said. He rushed over to the thin pedestal and withdrew his tablet. Then he removed a small cord and connected the two devices. A hologram shot out above him, carpeting the room with a purple mist. The light transitioned into a series of translucent flickering numbers.

Sophie leaned in closer for a better look.

“Access codes,” Diego said, sensing her presence. “These should allow us entry into the AI system. Should only take a few—”

Before he could finish his thought there was a clunk from the air ventilation system in the ceiling. Sophie glanced up just as the banks of LEDs clicked on, flooding the room with a warm yellow light. She basked under the cool air from the ceiling vents. The breeze felt magnificent on her blistering skin.

Diego continued to swipe away at his tablet. “Almost in,” he muttered. “Only a few more minutes.”

Sophie breathed the cool air, focusing on the flashing numbers. In the back of her mind she pictured the children waiting in the dark hangar and scanning the shadows for the shapes of aliens.

“Hurry,” she said.

“Going as fast as I can, Doctor,” Diego replied.

A scratching noise above them startled her. She flinched at the sound, her hand darting toward her heart.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered.

Emanuel shot her a concerned look. “What?”

“The scratching.”

She looked at the ceiling, nervously scanning the white tiles. The air unit coughed and then settled back into a normal rhythm.

“It probably hasn’t been run for a while,” Emanuel said.

Sophie managed a nod.

“Got it!” Diego shouted.

When she turned back to the interface the numbers had been replaced by the avatar of a middle-aged woman. The AI wore a serious look, her forehead forming a mountain range of wrinkles. She studied her visitors carefully, locking eyes with Sophie last.

An awkward silence spread over the group.

The AI spoke first. “Who are you?” She sounded confused. Lost.

“I’m Doctor Sophie Winston with the Cheyenne Mountain Biosphere. This is Doctor Emanuel Rodriguez and NTC Lieutenant John Diego. We’re here to—”

“Where is my crew?” she interrupted.

“Your crew?” Emanuel replied.

Diego took a step closer to the interface and unplugged his tablet. “The base appears to be empty.”

The woman’s eyes widened in confusion. Sophie wondered if the AI had suffered some sort of malfunction. Memory loss, perhaps.

Her purple avatar abruptly disappeared.

Diego stepped back. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Sophie, he shot her a nervous glance.

“I don’t like this,” Emanuel replied.

Moments later the woman’s face reappeared. She smiled as if nothing had happened and said, “My apologies. I was forced to reboot. Let me start over. I’m Sonya, NTC Model Number 3. I’ve been assigned to the NTC Sunspot.” She spoke with some sort of foreign accent that Sophie couldn’t quite place. Bosnian, maybe.

“Yes, that’s why we are here,” Sophie replied.

Sonya tilted her head and studied Sophie. “I do not understand.”

Taking a cautious step forward, Sophie said, “We’re here to activate the Sunspot.”

The AI blinked several times as if she was processing the information.

“And we’re here to take the Sunspot to Mars,” Sophie continued. “We received your SOS message.”

Sonya continued to stare.

“You do remember the SOS, right?” Sophie entreated.

“I shut my system down ten days ago. I’ve been in hibernation mode,” Sonya replied. “I’m still restoring my hardware and additional systems.”

“While you’re doing that, could you please open the doors to the Sunspot? The rest of our team is waiting to board the ship.”

“Certainly,” Sonya replied. “One moment, please.” Her avatar disappeared again and the purple light swallowed the room.

Diego smiled behind his visor and nodded at Sophie.

They waited for several seconds before Sonya reappeared. “I’ve restored my system and retrieved the SOS message.”

The three waited for the AI to explain. Diego gripped his rifle tightly, the barrel slowly inching off the ground.

“The crew of the Sunspot was killed approximately ten days, twenty-one hours, thirty-four minutes, and thirteen seconds ago.”

“Oh my god,” Sophie said, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Where? Where were they killed, Sonya?”

“Inside the Sunspot, of course,” the AI replied.

Sophie was running before the AI had a chance to finish.

“Wait, Sophie!” Emanuel called after her.

She finally understood why Sonya had activated the SOS. How could she have been so stupid? The base was empty because the Organics weren’t there. They were inside the Sunspot. And with the doors now open, the hungry aliens would have fresh prey waiting at their doorstep.

CHAPTER 25

JEFF pulled the magazine from his rifle to check his ammo. He knew there were only five bullets left. He’d checked several times now. The waiting ate at him, taxing his nerves. What the hell is taking so long, he wondered as he jammed the magazine back into the gun with a click.

David, lying on the floor next to him, lifted his head and smiled. “Guess we aren’t going to have to use those after all.”

Jeff looked away. He scanned the dimly lit hangar for Bouma and Kiel. Both men were positioned at opposite ends of the ship, the beams from their flashlights playing over the darkness. Standing, Jeff glanced over at Holly. She stroked Owen’s hair softly as he slept with his head in her lap. A few feet away Jamie was curled up comfortably with her blanket.

Lifting his rifle, Jeff walked away from the group and started pacing. He couldn’t sit there any longer. The heat was unbearable. He honestly wasn’t sure how Jamie could even sleep in it.

As he moved closer to the Sunspot he heard a chirp. Above him a circle of blue lights blinked, forming a halo around the ship’s wide nose. They glowed for a few moments, flickering in and out. Jeff flinched at a loud grinding noise that followed the chirping. The bank of LEDs turned red and the oval surface of the ship retracted to either side. A short ramp lowered from the opening, the rungs extending until they hit the concrete with a crunch.

Jeff stumbled backward, his rifle aimed up the ramp. “Guys,” he shouted. “Someone just opened the door to this thing!”

The blinking red lights illuminated the stairs of the metal platform just enough for Jeff to see a dark substance dried to the metal.

“Guys!” he yelled again, taking several steps away from the ship.

Behind him he could hear the heavy footsteps of the marines, but he kept his focus on the Sunspot.

“Sweet!” Kiel said. He limped ahead of Jeff, looking up to see inside the ship.

“Stay back,” Bouma ordered.

Jeff felt a tug on his sleeve and glanced down to see David. The boy wiped sweat off his brow and then said, “Can we go inside now? It’s so hot out here.”

“Not yet, bud. Why don’t you go back there with the others,” Jeff said, pointing to Holly and the other kids.

David protested with a frown, but retreated to his suitcase.

The roof suddenly shook, sending a vibration groaning through the metal walls.

“Man,” Kiel said. “I really don’t want to be here when this tin can comes crashing down.”

Bouma took a deep breath. “Me either.”

“Think it’s safe?” Jeff asked.

“I think we should wait for the others to get back,” Bouma replied. He joined Kiel at the top of the ramp and peered up into the ship.

“No way,” Kiel replied. “I want to see our digs for the next . . . How many months or years is this going to take?”

He limped into the ship before Bouma could stop him.

“Goddammit, Kiel,” Bouma muttered. “Jeff, watch our six, okay?” He looked back at Holly. “Wait here. We’re going to scope this out.”

She waved and then continued running her hand through Owen’s hair.

Jeff nodded at Bouma and then followed the marines into the ship. The top of the lift opened onto a large oval room filled with equipment Jeff had never seen before. A wall of monitors surrounded them on all sides. In the center of the room were three leather chairs facing a large overhead display.

“Holy shit,” Kiel said, reaching up to cover his nose. “Do you smell that?”

Bouma stopped to sniff the air. “What the fuck is it?”

The smell overwhelmed Jeff as soon as he joined them on the bridge. It smelled sour. No, Jeff thought, taking a whiff. It smells like rotting meat. Like death.

“I don’t like this,” Bouma whispered.

Kiel shook his head. “Me either.” He swept his flashlight over the room, the beam hitting Jeff in the face. The boy covered his eyes and stepped away.

“Sorry,” the marine said.

Jeff choked as he took another breath. He crossed the room and moved toward the cluster of seats facing the main monitor. He pointed his own light at the display, realizing that he was looking at a virtual windshield.

Stepping closer, he reached for the back of one of the leather chairs. His fingers slid into a slimy substance and he quickly pulled them from the gooey mess. With his heart racing he held his hand up in the light and saw it covered in blood.

“What the hell!” he cried. Before Kiel and Bouma could respond a blur of blue light filled the oval entry leading away from the bridge. Both marines stumbled backward, knocking into each other.

“Watch it,” Kiel shouted. When they regained their balance they both aimed their guns into the void.

Jeff stared into the darkness. The smell of rotting flesh filled his lungs. He coughed and then froze in fear as the hall came to life. The intensifying light pulsated like a heartbeat, filling the corridor with a cool blue.

He jammed the butt of his weapon against his good shoulder just as his dad had taught him. With one eye closed, he focused the crosshairs and waited.

They didn’t wait long. The distant sound of scraping echoed off the walls. It grew louder until the sound seemed to be coming from all around them, echoing through the cabin. Panicking, Jeff took a step backward, retreating to the ramp. He made it two strides when something emerged at the far end of the bridge. It flickered, moving from one side of the corridor to the other, the scratch, scrape building every second.

“My god,” Bouma mumbled. “Move! Move!”

But it was too late. A Spider burst out of the shadows, its front claws scampering across the metal as its high joints clicked. The creature’s mandibles opened, letting out an ear-splitting screech. Jeff fumbled with his rifle, resisting the urge to cover his ears.

“Open fire!” Bouma yelled.

Kiel squeezed off a volley of shots at the alien first. The rounds ricocheted off the alien’s shield harmlessly. Letting out another roar, the creature swiped the air with a loud whoosh.

The smaller marine fired again, screaming now. “Die, you son of a—” As soon as the words left his mouth one of the talons hooked him through his midsection and raised him into the air. Blood burst from Kiel’s mouth, splattering the ceiling above him.

“No!” Bouma shouted. With his right foot firmly in front of him, he unloaded his magazine into the creature’s shields.

The shields absorbed the rounds, pulsating with every hit. The alien swung its prey, jamming another claw through Kiel’s back with a sickening crunch.

Jeff locked eyes with the marine as the Spider lifted him farther into the air. He could see the terror in Kiel’s eyes, the pain and horror. It all happened so quickly, Jeff didn’t have time to process it.

The marine’s head slumped to the side and the alien tossed his lifeless body to the floor.

“Get out of here!” Bouma yelled.

But Jeff couldn’t move. He was frozen. His eyes roved from Kiel’s bloody body to the Spider. There was motion behind the beast. A flood of the creatures streamed out of the hallway, like animals that had just awoken from a deep slumber.

Finally shocked into motion, Jeff retreated down the ramp. Bouma followed him, turning to fire off a few uncontrolled bursts over his shoulder with his rifle gripped in one hand.

Jeff could only think of David as he loped down the lift. He had to protect his brother. He couldn’t let the monsters get him. Not now, after they’d come so far, after they had survived for so long.

As soon as Jeff’s boots hit the concrete he was moving at full speed toward a terrified Holly. David pointed his rifle over Jeff’s shoulder, aiming it at the nose of the ship.

“Run!” Jeff cried. He could hear Bouma’s footsteps behind him, but had no idea where the marine was. He only knew they had to hide. They’d done it at White Sands; they could do it again.

Grabbing David by his shirt, he yanked the boy to his feet and pulled him toward the exit. “Let’s go!”

Holly followed, pulling Owen and Jamie. With Jeff out in front he guided them away from the ship, back toward the set of doors they had entered through. They were only a couple hundred yards away, but above him he could see a blue light gliding across the ceiling.

A loud groan rumbled through the building as they approached the exit. The storm, Jeff thought. He’d forgotten about the damned storm. When they got to the doors he looked back at the lift. Flowing from the ship were dozens of Spiders, their mandibles releasing the same high-pitched shrieks Jeff had heard so many times before. The mixture of scraping claws, the crack of gunfire, and the vibrating door was overwhelming.

Jeff tried to think, but where could they go?

They were trapped.

“Make it stop!” David said, cupping his ears.

Jeff’s heart broke at the sight of his younger brother cowering in fear. For the first time since their dad’s death, he couldn’t protect him. Tossing his rifle aside, he reached for David’s hands and pulled him close. As the blue glow surrounded them he embraced his brother.

“It’s okay, David. We’re going to see Mom and Dad soon.”

With the dust storm pounding the hangars, Noble wondered if Sophie would try and wait out the storm before launching the Sunspot. The ship had been designed to travel in much worse conditions, but the X-90s and—

He turned and eyed the row of fragile black drones, their noses angled at the hangar doors. The wind would tear them wing from wing, like their fallen comrades littered across the tarmac.

The captain studied the ceiling, listening to the roof rattling above them. The tremors were less frequent, a sign the storm was finally starting to let up.

“Sir,” Kirt said.

“Somebody better have some good news for me,” he said, spinning in his chair to see Kirt, Andy, Riordan, and Howard. The pilots stood with their hands clasped behind their backs, their chests swollen and proud.

“Redemption incoming. Ready to rock!”

Noble didn’t need to turn to see the Viking-size engineer crossing the room. His loud footsteps gave his presence away.

“All RVAMPs and electromagnetic monitors are installed,” Ort said. He slapped the captain on his back. “We’re good to go, sir.”

“Assuming we can get the birds in the air,” Noble replied. “Kirt, how are the skies looking?”

The drone pilot ran a hand through his short blond hair and checked the monitor. After a pause he regained his composure and said, “Skies are still clear of contacts. The worst of the storm looks to have passed, too.”

The report gave Noble the confidence to take the mission to the next phase.

“Okay,” he said. “Riordan, Howard. You’re up.”

Both men acknowledged the order with a short nod. The burden they carried was evident in their hardened features. Succeed, and they would bring the Organics’ network crashing to the ground. Fail, and they would lose the planet forever.

Noble felt an overwhelming responsibility of his own, but like his men, he did his best to mask the feeling. Having been over it a million times in his mind, he was ready.

“Ort, get a few men to help you open the doors,” Noble said, moving from one man to the next. “Kirt, you and Andy prep your drone stations.”

Despite going over a mental checklist, he felt as if he had missed something. It dawned on him then that Diego still wasn’t back from escorting Sophie and her team to the Sunspot. Maybe he’s waiting out the storm, Noble thought.

Noble walked over to the cluster of monitors where Kirt worked to bring the drones online. Not wanting to raise alarm among his men, he kept the com channel offline. Leaning close to the pilot, he said, “Has anyone heard from Diego?”

Without looking up Kirt shook his head. “No, sir.”

Noble nodded. The fates of Sophie and Diego were out of his hands.

The grinding of metal on metal pulled Noble to the front of the hangar. A gust of wind speckled the concrete with dirt as two of his men opened the large doors. One of them yelled “Looks like it’s clearing off!”

Noble balled his hand into a fist. “Just keep it cracked, for now.”

The man on the right flashed a thumbs-up.

A white sun broke through the sky and spilled into the hangar. The armored X-90s glistened in the light. Noble touched the sleek curved edge of one of them, wishing he could climb into the cockpit and be there when they brought down the pole at McKinley.

“Everything’s prepped and ready to go,” Kirt said. “I’ve made contact with Lolo. The Surge just hit the alien poles a few minutes ago. We have two hours to take it down before it can reconnect. Now’s our chance, sir.”

Noble crossed his arms. “Get my birds in the air.”

The crack of gunfire stopped as Sophie rounded the first corner. Her heart stopped with it. The last shot faded away.

“No,” she mumbled. “No!”

“Sophie!” Emanuel yelled behind her. “Wait up!”

“We have to get to them!” she screamed. Her words echoed down the hallway. She pushed on, her body aching with every stride, her head pounding from a growing headache.

When she reached the door to the stairwell she paused long enough to withdraw Sergeant Overton’s .45 from the back of her belt. The metal, cold on her warm skin, felt powerful, and the memory of the man who had fought so valiantly gave her the extra boost she needed to twist the doorknob. She hadn’t seen eye to eye with the man, but his courage inspired her own.

Holding her breath, she opened the door and was hit by a blinding blue light. The intense glow looked like a portal to another world. It pulled her up the stairs, a beacon, drawing her forward.

With every step her mind raced with thoughts of the children, of Holly and the marines.

“Please,” she begged, “don’t let them be dead.”

By the time she reached the top of the stairwell Emanuel and Diego were right behind her. Diego squeezed past with his rifle extended.

Then she saw them.

Four small orbs. Floating at the far end of the chamber. A pack of Spiders huddled around them. On the ground in front of the orbs, Sophie could see something else. Two human bodies.

Holly . . .

Bouma . . .

She couldn’t see either of their faces, but she could see the blood leaking from their wounds.

Sophie collapsed to her knees, tears racing down her face. She raised the .45, pointing it toward the aliens. Her finger hovered over the trigger, but she didn’t fire.

A few feet ahead of her Diego and Emanuel stood silently, watching in shock.

“We can’t help them,” the soldier said.

Emanuel stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tiptoed over to Sophie. He crouched down to eye level and said, “We have to leave.”

She glared at him, a vein bulging in her neck. She said, “We use the RVAMP. They can still be saved.”

Emanuel looked at her in disbelief. “That will kill you, Sophie. You can’t survive a blast at this range.”

She grabbed his wrist and squeezed it. “I don’t care. I won’t let them die.”

“No,” Emanuel said, shaking his head. “I won’t do it.”

The Spiders shrieked at the sound of Emanuel’s voice.

Diego took a step back, shouldering his rifle. “We have to move, guys. Pronto.”

Emanuel could see him saying something into his mini mike, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Command isn’t responding,” Diego replied. “Get down!” he yelled, raising his rifle and firing.

Sophie held Emanuel’s gaze as Diego emptied his magazine into the mass of aliens. The pulse rounds infuriated the hungry group.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Emanuel pulled his wrist free from her grasp and reached for the straps securing the RVAMP to his back. With trepidation he unfastened the device and laid it in front of them.

“Sophie. Please don’t do this,” he said. Tears flowed freely down his face.

“They’re coming!” Diego shouted between shots. “If you’re going to do something, you better do it fast!”

She managed a smile. “I love you, Emanuel.” Then she dropped the .45 onto the ground and pulled the RVAMP between them. His fingers intertwined with hers.

She forced their fingers down on the green button together. An invisible blast of electromagnetic energy exploded from the device. Pain raced through her system, lighting her nerves on fire. She twisted, jerked, and twitched uncontrollably. And then it was over. She felt her body slump into Emanuel’s arms and heard his screams as darkness overtook her.

The sun glimmered high in the afternoon sky. On the horizon, dark clouds of dust moved away from the base. The carcasses of several armored vehicles rested in the storm’s wake, their fading paint reflecting the abuse inflicted on them over the past few months.

Flanked by Kirt and Ort, the captain stood with his arms crossed, staring out over the tarmac. He watched Howard and Riordan climb into the cockpits of the X-90s. His team had maneuvered the jets and the drones around the wreckage and cleared a path for their takeoff.

Both pilots gave a thumbs-up as soon as the glass windshields locked into place above them. Then, with a ground-shaking roar they flared up the engines. Flames burst from their cylinder exhaust tubes.

Noble smiled and, in sync with Ort and Kirt, saluted the two pilots. They returned the gesture. The concrete rumbled a second later as the jets lurched forward.

The captain shielded his face from the heat and a powerful wind gust, watching through a fort of fingers as the jets raced down the tarmac and lifted into the air. With the planes clear, Andy launched the drones, controlling them manually from the command center.

Within a minute the sky was filled with the most beautiful sight Noble had seen in months—human air power.

The X-90s screamed across the skyline, streaking northwest, three drones following in their exhaust trails. And then they were just black specks. The other six drones peeled off in different directions.

Noble nodded, watching the final blip disappear on the horizon. With a deep breath he turned back to the hangar. Their first target, Mt. McKinley, was a little over 2,600 miles away. With jets capable of speeds up to 2,200 mph, the pilots would make it there in a little over an hour. That would give them at least thirty minutes to take down the pole before the Surge reconnected. Now all he had to do was wait.

Operation Redemption was officially underway.

When the rumble from the jets had completely vanished, Noble heard a distant voice. He spun to see a soldier running across the tarmac.

It was Diego, and he was screaming.

CHAPTER 26

THE ceiling had stopped rattling a few minutes before. The rumble from the X-90s and drones had waned away. Noble’s men had successfully launched, just narrowly avoiding the blast from the RVAMP, but Emanuel didn’t care. He held Sophie’s limp body in his arms, sobbing as he watched her life force drain away. He shook her softly, mumbling her name over and over.

She twitched, her chest heaving and torso jerking, just involuntary muscle spasms. Her frozen pupils stared in different directions, a result of the electrical current the nanobots had released when they were destroyed.

In the end, it was the device he had made that killed her. He would live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

He glanced up, tears cascading off his face and plopping onto the concrete. They were surrounded by a blue field of alien bodies; twisted and mangled from the RVAMP’s blast.

Beyond their corpses, the four floating orbs had crashed to the ground, their translucent skin melting around the child imprisoned inside.

Setting Sophie softly on the ground, Emanuel stood and raced over to them. As he approached he heard several stifled whimpers. But the sound wasn’t coming from the children. He stepped over the Spiders and found Holly and Bouma lying in the shadows of the hangar doors. They had been so close to escaping, the marine’s hands just feet away.

“Help the kids,” Holly choked. Emanuel quickly scanned her body. A large gash decorated her upper arm, but she would live. Bouma, on the other hand, was a wreck. He was unconscious, and when Emanuel saw his injuries he could see why. The Spiders had pierced his right thigh and upper left chest. His uniform was soaked in scarlet.

Holly dragged herself across the floor and applied pressure to Bouma’s leg. She glanced up at Emanuel, a curtain of bloody blond hair hanging from her face. “Go, Emanuel!”

He nodded and ran to the children. Jeff and David lay just feet away from each other, their eyes closed. Emanuel crouched down and felt David’s neck for a pulse. He found one—weak, but he was alive.

Then he moved to Jamie and Owen. Their small bodies were covered in blue goo. He pulled Jamie from the fluid first, removing the gunk from her mouth and face. Then he put her softly on the concrete and worked on Owen. They were both breathing, but their heartbeats felt weak.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had happened. Adrenaline kept him moving. Save the living, he thought. You can’t do anything for Sophie now. His eyes welled up again as he cleaned the children of alien slime.

It was hard to imagine that he and Holly were the only original members of the Biosphere team left. What had started out as a mission to save the world had turned into World War III, and he was the only one left unscathed.

Grinding metal rang out at the other end of the chamber, startling Emanuel. He glanced over his shoulder as Diego waved a squad of NTC soldiers into the room. They spread out under the Sunspot, their sleek black armor glimmering in the withering blue light.

“We need medical attention!” Emanuel shouted.

He looked up at the ship looming above them, his eyes focusing on the open door, and then suddenly he remembered. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

The ship had a full medical facility, just like the Biosphere at Cheyenne Mountain. And inside there were a dozen or more cryo chambers, all designed for extended space travel. If he could get the children into them, he could basically freeze them until they reached Mars. Surely Dr. Hoffman and his team could save them. Maybe they could even save . . .

He looked back at Sophie’s limp body. A soldier leaned over her, his headlamp illuminating her pale face. Emanuel knew it was a long shot, but maybe she could be brought back.

Shocked into motion, Emanuel stood and snapped his fingers. “Diego,” he shouted. “I need your men to get these kids and Sophie into the cryo chambers inside the ship.”

“On it,” the soldier said.

“We need a medic, too,” Holly yelled. She pumped Bouma’s chest frantically. “He’s not breathing!”

One of the soldiers sprinted over to them and, dropping to a knee, opened a small black medical kit. He shooed Holly aside and began working on the marine.

Above them, the bank of red lights surrounding the door to the Sunspot blinked. The NTC soldiers rushed back and forth.

Emanuel’s vision blurred. He could hear someone yelling his name, but the words were indecipherable.

They were so fucking close! So close to leaving the damned planet and all the death behind. And now Sophie, his beloved Sophie . . . He couldn’t bear to watch the NTC soldier carry her body up the ramp into the Sunspot. His only hope rested with the cryo chambers.

Moving aside, Emanuel watched the other men scoop up Jamie and Owen. Their arms hung loosely over armored shoulders, their eyes detached, staring at nothing. Sucking in a long, measured breath he closed his eyes and then followed the group into the belly of the spaceship.

The mission clock on Captain Noble’s HUD read 1705.

Almost there, he thought.

He paced nervously behind Kirt’s monitor, his gaze shifting from the display to the hangar doors every few seconds. He still hadn’t heard back from Diego. The man had come tearing across the tarmac, screaming about Spiders that had attacked the Biosphere team. He’d deployed all but three of his men to help.

The wait for their return was eating him alive. He turned back to the monitors, anticipation building in his gut as he watched Howard’s and Riordan’s jets inch across the display. Marked Red 9 and Green 6, the two X-90s were now a finger’s length away from their target.

Thanks to Lolo, they had secured an encrypted feed with both pilots. The video streaming from the cockpits fed straight to Noble’s command center at Offutt. He saw what they saw. It was like being behind the wheel, without having to drive.

A coward’s game, he thought, wishing again he could be there himself.

Crackling white noise filled his earpiece. He flinched, waiting for the transmission. He hoped desperately for good news, but a long wave of static washed over the channel.

He didn’t have time for this. He reached up and tapped his helmet with an armored finger, as if it would help the weak com feed.

“Captain, this is Diego. Do you copy?” Diego repeated the message, his voice shaky and unsure.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here,” Noble replied. “Give me a full report.”

“Sir, there have been casualties. Doctor Sophie Winston appears to be . . .” he paused. “She appears to be dead, sir. The children are all severely injured. Doctor Rodriguez thinks they might be able to save them if we put them in the cryo chambers to preserve their bodies until they can find proper medical care.”

“My god,” Noble said, choking on his words.

“It’s bad, sir. And that’s not all. Doctor Brown and Corporal Bouma were injured. They should both live, but the other marine, Kiel, was killed inside the Sunspot. They woke up a fucking nest of aliens.”

Noble hammered his fist down, stopping just short of the table. He should have used the rover to scan the Sunspot, but after discovering the drones he’d simply left to plan the rest of the mission.

Once again he’d failed, and lives, precious lives, had been lost due to his negligence.

“Sir, they’re almost to Mount McKinley,” Kirt said.

Noble shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus. He couldn’t lose it now, not when Howard and Riordan were so close to their target.

“Diego, do what you can for the team. Have your men help them prepare the ship for launch and then get back here.”

“Roger.”

Noble filled his lungs with a deep breath, relieving some of the built-up anxiety. A bead of sweat trickled down his nose and landed on the stubble growing where his mustache had filled his face weeks earlier. He wanted desperately to run his finger across his face. It had always calmed him. Instead he moved to the seat next to Kirt. Crossing his arms, Noble said, “Get me the feed inside Red 9.”

Kirt reached to his left and swiped the screen. The monitor flickered and the view from Howard’s cockpit emerged. Clocking 2,200 mph, the jet screamed through the air. The skyline was a blur of orange light. A black speck glimmered on the horizon.

“That’s Riordan,” Kirt said, pointing at the dot.

Noble nodded. “How are our drones doing?” He turned to Andy, who sat a few feet away, his eyes plastered to a set of dual monitors.

“They’re flying on autopilot, for now,” Andy replied.

“Once they reach their targets, we’ll switch them back to manual. That’s where I come in,” Kirt said.

Data scrolling across the bottom of Howard’s monitor showed the pilot’s X-90 was at terminal velocity.

“Be advised, target incoming,” Riordan said.

Kirt keyed a series of codes in to the holo interface and said, “Advise reducing speed in T minus thirty seconds.”

The red and green dots on the radar screen blinked as Howard and Riordan acknowledged the request. In the bottom right corner of the display, Noble saw their speeds slowly reducing.

As Howard’s jet descended, the feed cleared. For the first time during the flight, Noble could see the landscape below.

Closing his eyes he pictured the great Alaskan frontier before the Organics had invaded: thousands of square miles of grass, crystal-clear streams snaking through the fields, herds of wildlife grazing freely, and snow-tipped mountain peaks.

All reduced to ash.

When his eyes snapped open he saw the grave truth. The gray mountains were approaching fast, their jagged peaks devoid of snow, their ridgelines filled with petrified trees. A wildfire burned a section of forest for hundreds of square miles in the distance, filling the horizon with dark smoke.

“Check your weapons systems; prepare to attack,” Noble said.

“Roger that, Offutt. Preparing weapons systems,” Riordan replied. Howard responded with an “Aye aye,” his Red 9 dot blinking green.

“Surge countdown is T minus forty three minutes,” Kirt said, looking up at Noble.

“Howard, Riordan. You have forty-three minutes to take this son of a bitch down,” Noble said. He grunted when he saw the majestic peak of Mount McKinley rising out of the black smoke cloud. “They’re going to have to fly through that?”

A short nod from Kirt confirmed the captain’s fear.

Static flickered over the com. “Offutt, are you seeing this? Please advise, over.”

“We’re seeing it,” Kirt replied. “Proceed through the smoke. Target is just on the other side, over.”

Noble watched the dots streaking across the radar. Red 9 blinked first, but Green 6 hesitated before acknowledging. He moved back to Howard’s display. Flares of exhaust trailed Riordan’s jet as it streaked toward the cloud. And then it was gone, swallowed by the smoke.

The radio crackled a moment later.

Riordan’s voice sounded distressed. “Captain, we’re picking up a strong magnetic disturbance. Please advise, over.”

Kirt glanced up at Noble, his forehead lined with wrinkles.

“Tell them to hold course for now,” Noble replied.

“Aye aye,” Kirt replied with a short hesitation.

Noble checked the radar. Both dots looked like they were on top of Mount McKinley. That couldn’t be right, could it?

Holding his breath, he counted down the seconds. Just as he reached seven, Howard’s X-90 exploded out of the smoke. A chorus of warning sensors chirped over the channel. Emergency lights flickered across the dashboard.

“Be advised, impact imminent,” came an automated voice inside the cockpit. “Take immediate evasive measures.”

Before Noble had a chance to respond, he saw it.

Mount McKinley towered above both jets. They were coming in too fast. Seven hundred fifty miles per hour too fast. He didn’t need Kirt to tell him what had happened. The magnetic disturbance had disrupted their navigation equipment and the smoke had rendered them blind.

Screaming, Riordan yanked hard on the control stick. The jet pitched upward, and rays of sunlight washed over the cockpit.

Intense light filled the display, forcing Noble to look away. He waited for an explosion as Riordan’s and Howard’s jets smashed into the gray mountain.

But the sound never came. When he turned back to the monitor he saw clear skies and the black dot of Riordan’s X-90.

Relief washed over Noble.

“Circling,” Howard said. His voice faded as an explosion rang out. “What the fuck was that?” the pilot said. He twisted in his seat, his camera showing two of the drones trailing him. The other had smashed into the side of Mount McKinley, flames licking the sky where the craft had blown to bits.

“We lost Drone 3,” Kirt said, pointing to the radar.

Noble grunted. “I can see that.” He shifted his gaze from the radar to the feed from Howard’s X-90.

“My god,” the pilot suddenly said.

Noble instantly saw why.

The alien tower Lolo had discovered rose out of the south side of the mountain into the sky. The metallic sides pulsated, a blue light moving up and down the shaft in intermittent bursts.

“That’s it,” Noble said, locking eyes with Kirt. “Take that fucking thing down.”

“Engaging,” the pilot said. He swiped the screen, deactivating the autopilot on the two remaining drones. Andy sat up straighter and grabbed the joystick as his drone came online.

“Riordan, Howard. Protect the drones,” Noble said.

“No sign of contacts,” Howard replied.

A lump formed in the captain’s throat. He’d expected resistance. Major resistance. But the skies appeared clear, the pole seemingly unprotected.

He focused on the strange Organic architecture. It throbbed with life. The pulsing of the alien light gave the impression of breathing.

As Howard maneuvered around the tower the light suddenly changed rhythm. The entire pole became solid blue. Seconds later it changed again. This time hundreds of miniature lights flickered. And one by one they pulled away from the construct. Countless cylinder-shaped objects peeled off the tower.

Noble’s stomach sank when he realized what they were. Shocked into motion he stood and leaned over Kirt. “Hurry—use the RVAMP while we still can.”

Kirt navigated through the minefield of alien drones. The sky was filled with them, like blue fireflies they were everywhere.

“There’s too many!” Andy yelled. Noble saw the feed from his drone flicker and fade as it detonated into a thousand pieces.

“Fuck,” he said, cupping his head in his hands.

Noble moved back to Kirt’s monitor. The expert pilot zigzagged around the alien ships. With a quick jerk to the right he pulled them away from the mountain. Then with another swift movement he changed course, this time straight up toward the sun.

“Firing,” Howard said.

The captain’s eyes darted back to the X-90 feed as a volley of rockets launched at the sky that was now choking with tiny blue dots. Explosions burst across the display, several of the missiles sending the aliens into fiery poofs. But there were so many.

“Bogies on my tail,” Riordan said.

Howard cried out over the channel. “They’re everywhere!”

“Keep them off Kirt’s drone,” Noble replied. “He has to get closer.”

Both of the pilots acknowledged, their dots blinking green on the radar. When Noble looked back at Howard’s video, he saw impossible odds.

The same odds humanity had faced all along.

For a moment Noble couldn’t move; he couldn’t even speak. He watched a wall of alien drones moving along a collision course with the X-90. They would do anything to stop the pilots from taking out their life source, even if it meant sacrificing themselves in the process.

Howard screamed and jerked his plane to the right, but it was too late. Fire filled the display as the X-90 exploded in a cloud of debris.

The monitor panned to Riordan’s feed just as his jet exploded as well.

Anger pulled Noble from his trance. “Use the fucking RVAMP, Kirt. Now!”

The pilot shot him a glance, his brown eyes pleading behind his visor. “But we aren’t close enough.”

“You have to do it now! While we still can.”

Kirt nodded and tugged the control stick to the left, angling the drone back toward the mountain. The tower, now just a speck on the mountain, blinked as if it was tempting them.

“Just a little closer,” he muttered.

Kirt’s fingers hovered over the RVAMP button. Hovered too long. And in a fit of rage, the captain leaned forward and reached for it himself. He punched the button and waited for the invisible electromagnetic magic to work.

Kirt, gasping in surprise, turned back to his interface and keyed in several commands.

“The drone’s gone, sir,” the pilot choked.

“Did it work?” Noble glanced down at him with bated breath.

The pilot shoved the monitor away, sending the display crashing to the floor.

Noble felt his heart sink. He knew, like Kirt, that Operation Redemption had failed.

The planet . . .

Lost.

CHAPTER 27

EMANUEL removed his glasses and, using his shirt, cleaned the smears of blood off the lenses. When he put them back on, Sonya’s hologram had emerged above the AI interface. The bridge, crowded with NTC soldiers, reminded him of a beehive. The armored men moved from station to station, activating the life support systems.

Within minutes the room flared to life, holo displays spreading their warm light over the cold metal floor. Diego’s team had already removed Kiel’s body, and those of the ship’s previous crew—what was left of them. The smell of rotting flesh, however, still lingered.

“Doctor Rodriguez, all systems are now online,” Sonya said.

“How are the children?” he asked. “How is—”

“Their vitals are all unchanged,” Sonya replied. “Doctor Winston has entered a completely frozen state. Her body is technically alive, but her brain activity is minimal.”

The words hit Emanuel like a belt to the face. He flinched and closed his eyes. Deep down he knew before Sonya answered that Sophie was beyond saving. That she had died in his arms. But science and technology gave him hope, as it always did. He still held on to that hope. Without it, he had nothing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Diego standing next to him. Emanuel caught his gaze, finding strength there. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I really am.”

Emanuel nodded.

“Listen, I don’t mean to detract from your loss, but there’s something I think you should see.”

Taking a deep breath, Emanuel attempted to pull himself together.

“Follow me,” Diego said.

The soldier led him away from the bridge and through a passage that connected to Biome 1. At the end of the hall, two of his men held black garbage bags.

“What’s left of the crew,” Diego said, gesturing toward the gore-soaked walls.

A partially raised metal blast door covered the glass entrance to Biome 1. Holding his nose, Emanuel looked over at the lieutenant, not quite understanding why he’d brought him here. He ducked under the door.

The chamber looked different from the one at Cheyenne Mountain. Instead of the curved ceiling that defined their old Biome, this one was low. A bank of glowing lights extended from the panels illuminating the room. The dirt looked unscathed. The space completely undisturbed.

It was then that he understood.

Diego smiled when Emanuel nodded.

“These brave men and women made their last stand in this hallway to prevent the aliens from getting inside,” Diego said. “They sealed off the rest of the Sunspot to protect the water supply and the other Biomes.”

Emanuel didn’t know how to respond.

Diego put a hand on Emanuel’s shoulder. “They saved the Sunspot so that someone else could take it to the stars.”

Emanuel managed to move his lips, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Hold on,” Diego said. “I’m getting a transmission from Captain Noble now.”

Emanuel turned back to the Biome, scanning the perfectly level dirt and clean white walls. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t deny the hint of hope growing inside him. The hope that maybe they could still get to Mars and save Sophie.

“Captain Noble’s on his way here,” Diego said. “He wants to see you before you take off.”

“Me?” Emanuel asked, finally finding his voice again.

“You’re in charge now, aren’t you?”

With a nod, Emanuel said, “I suppose I am.”

Captain Noble stepped into the fleeting sunlight and looked up at the sky. Mars was out there, somewhere, and so was Dr. Hoffman’s magical colony.

Crossing the tarmac with Kirt and Andy on his heels, Noble thought of the old scientist. The mile-long walk to the hangar provided him with ample time to consider everything that had happened. It dawned on him that Hoffman had known all along that the aliens couldn’t be defeated. He had been right after all. It was Noble who was wrong. From the beginning, the bastard had realized that no amount of human military muscle could keep the Organics from what they desired—the most important resource of all.

The Biospheres and the colony on Mars were the only options left for the human race. And it finally all made sense. Why jump ship from a dying planet to an already dead one?

The answer had never been so clear.

Mars was free of the monsters. And with the terraformers and NTC technology, the Red Planet would soon be habitable for humanity.

There were still the Biospheres, though. Why had Hoffman even bothered with them?

Perhaps it was a fail-safe, one of many in the old bastard’s delusional plan to save humankind. Maybe he thought they could survive the invasion and, if the colony failed, the species could find a way to survive.

Noble shook his head. He could talk himself in circles trying to figure out the scientist’s master plan, but what did it matter? Redemption had failed. He had failed.

There was only one thing left to do: make sure Dr. Rodriguez and his remaining teammates made it into space.

As he walked he thought of his own crew back on the GOA. Surely they knew the mission’s fate by now. They had access to Lolo, and would have tracked the battle from beneath the surface.

“Sir, with all due respect, what are we going to do now?” Andy asked as they crossed the concrete.

Noble felt his heart sink. He had known the question would come, and that he would have to answer his men. They were out of options. They could always take the Sea Serpent back to the GOA and try to survive until the Organics drained the oceans.

But that seemed like too much of a risk. The gunship was already in rough condition, and he doubted it could make the journey back to the GOA. For the first time in months he had no plan.

“I’m not sure—” Noble began to say as a supersonic boom thundered overhead. The sound sent a shockwave barreling down on the base. Noble cupped his ears.

The alien cavalry had arrived.

He looked up at the skyline, expecting to see a drone racing toward them. Instead, the outline of one of their black mother ships descended over the south part of Offutt.

“Run!” he yelled.

Dust swirled around the three men as they raced across the tarmac. Noble risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the oval craft hovering over the ruined structures at the opposite end of the base. It moved slowly, scanning for life.

Hunting.

“We have to launch the Sunspot!” Noble shouted. He bumped his com to open the channel to his men.

“Diego, do you copy?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Get those doors open. You need to launch the Sunspot. ASAP! ”

“On it!”

Kirt ran past Noble at a dead sprint for the hangar. They were close, maybe two hundred yards away now. One of the soldiers peeked through the open door and waved the men forward.

The ground rumbled and Noble pushed harder, running as fast as he could.

Bursting through the door, he slid to a halt. His team surrounded him, their anxious looks pleading for information.

“Redemption was a failure,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have time to explain, we need to get Doctor Rodriguez and his team in the air. If any of you want to go with them, you have my blessing, but you have only seconds to decide.”

He scanned each man’s dusty visor. They all stood quietly. Not a single soldier moved.

“Then let’s buy them some time!” Noble shouted. “Grab your weapons and let’s show these motherfuckers there are still some humans left to fight.”

Cheers roared behind him. He turned to move back outside when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Captain,” Emanuel said. “Thank you for everything.”

Noble smiled and said, “Go. And good luck!” Then he followed his men out onto the concrete.

“Diego, get your ass over here,” he shouted as he ran.

“Here, sir.”

Watching his men fan out and form a perimeter around the hangar, Noble said, “Find Ort. I want you two to go with Doctor Rodriguez.”

“But sir,” the man began to protest.

Noble craned his helmet and found the terrified man’s gaze. “They’re going to need your help. And Ort’s, too. Do this. For me,” Noble pleaded.

The hum from the alien ship’s engines forced Noble to look away. The vessel hovered over the hangar where he’d set up the forward operating base.

“Go,” Noble shouted. He turned and ran, listening for Diego’s footsteps. They came seconds later. Satisfied, Noble took up a position behind Ramirez.

“Give me your electromagnetic grenades,” he ordered.

The soldier plucked two from his belt and handed them to Noble. Chinning his com he said, “When that thing gets close enough, use your grenades. We’ll bring down the shields and then concentrate all our fire on the underbelly.” Noble remembered Colorado Springs, when the Sea Serpent had torn a hole in the other ship.

Behind them, the Sunspot’s engines roared to life. Noble knew this was it. No more time for memories or for revenge. Only one thing left to do: clear a path for the Biosphere team.

Pressing the buttons on both grenades, he coiled his arm and launched them toward the ship. They detonated in midair, sending the alien shield pulsing. A half dozen more of the devices sailed through the dust, bursting into blue ripples along the ship’s surface.

When a tremor shook the shield, Noble yelled, “Open fire.”

Pulse rounds streaked into the sky, finding their targets and exploding across the sleek black surface. Noble grunted, the detonations filling him with satisfaction.

His earpiece suddenly came to life and the sound of Diego’s voice emerged over the channel.

“Captain, the Organics are blocking our exit.”

“Not for long,” Noble replied. He aimed his rifle at the ship’s undercarriage and concentrated his fire. The other soldiers mimicked his action. Fire burst through the hull, ballooning around the ship. It jerked and pulled away from the tarmac.

“Now’s your chance,” Noble said. “Get out of here!”

“It’s been an honor, sir,” Diego replied.

The captain and the other men moved aside as the Sunspot maneuvered out of the hangar and pulled onto the tarmac. With a lurch, the ship jolted forward and took off screaming. A cloud of exhaust trailed the spaceship, the heat scalding Noble’s armor. He watched the last hope for humanity tear into the sky.

And then it was gone, nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Noble took a deep breath and looked for the alien ship. With fire bursting from its underbelly, it didn’t engage in a chase. Instead it hovered beside the runway, as if the alien pilots were trying to decide what to do next.

The hum emanating from the ship grew louder and its muffled explosions grew closer. Noble crouched on the pavement and waited for what came next.

The captain had accepted his fate. In the end, he’d failed Earth, but their sacrifice would allow the survivors of Cheyenne Mountain to reach Dr. Hoffman’s colony. He could only hope there actually was a colony to reach.

A powerful electric current surrounded him. Paralyzed, he listened to the buzzing of the advanced alien engines.

His men’s muffled, panic-streaked voices filled his earpiece. Their shouts of terror grew louder as the current pulled them toward the ship. The blinding blue light burned his retinas. He and the others were being pulled into a halo of blue surrounding a circular door. He kicked in protest, earning himself a painful jolt from an electric current. Defeated, Noble embraced the tractor beam and let it take him.

Emanuel ignored the lingering smell of death in the hallway leading from the bridge to Biome 1. He already knew that on the other side of the glass separating him from the garden he’d find the same clean, artificial environment they’d first experienced at Cheyenne Mountain.

When the glass panels hissed open, the crisp air filled his lungs. For a moment he forgot where he was headed.

A sudden tremor shook the floor below him and the whine of equipment under the metal platform kicked on. Startled, he reminded himself that all systems were functioning at 100 percent. Sonya had reassured him of this before he’d left the bridge, shortly after she’d activated the autopilot system and coded in the coordinates to Dr. Hoffman’s colony on Mars.

The platform shook again.

Somewhere, deep in the hull of the Sunspot, the artificial gravity generator rumbled. His sour stomach felt better already.

He didn’t linger to enjoy the moment. He waited impatiently for the AI to open the next set of doors. Cocking his head, he looked at the camera and said, “Sonya, will you open these, please?”

The glass parted and he moved into the next corridor. As with the Biosphere at Cheyenne Mountain, the biomes were all connected by a single set of passages. In a sense, they reminded Emanuel of arteries connecting to a central heart, in this case, the mess hall.

Navigating his way quickly through the other hallways, he finally came to the last door. A sign hung above the window.

Sunspot: Medical Ward.

He stood there, staring through the glass, scanning the row of cryo chambers on the far end of the room. Exhaling his anxiety, he entered, closing the door behind him, careful not to wake Bouma or Holly, who slept quietly in beds on the right side of the room. Their biomonitors chirped, illuminating their bodies with a faint green glow. Emanuel checked their vitals. Both were stable. Satisfied, he walked to the cryo chambers.

He rubbed the glass surface of the first tube. Inside, he saw David’s body was curled up in the fetal position. A quick glance at the other chambers revealed the same thing. The kids all rested peacefully, so it appeared, in cryo sleep.

Leaning closer, he checked the wall of monitors above the row of tubes. All systems looked normal. He walked to the final active cryo cylinder.

Biting his inner lip, he reached out and cleaned the glass surface.

His heart jumped when he saw her eyes, the pupils still angled in different directions. Emanuel rested his head against the glass of Sophie’s coffin. He wanted so desperately to hold her again.

Lifting his head off the metallic surface, he saw his own reflection for the first time in days. His black beard hid his emaciated cheeks and his sunken dimples. He looked past the reflection and reached forward to check Sophie’s biomonitor.

Her brain activity was weak, hardly existent, but there was something still there—something still working inside her brain. He kissed the glass lid and backed away from the chamber. “You’re going to Mars, Sophie. You’re finally going to Mars.”

Captain Noble awoke to blue light. His first attempt to move earned him the same jolt of electricity he’d felt just before being pulled into the alien ship. The pain felt distant, and so did his body.

He blinked his eyes, the one movement he still had control of. His blurred vision revealed nothing but the same blue glow. Beyond that he couldn’t see anything.

Over and over he blinked, his vision slowly clearing each time. He waited, patiently.

And then he saw his prison.

A translucent skin surrounded him on all sides. He glanced down, finding his naked body suspended in some sort of liquid.

Terror gripped him.

An orb.

He was inside a fucking orb.

His body was shot with another surge of electricity as he struggled to move. Beyond his cage he could see thousands of the blue floating balls all throughout the ship. They sparkled, the jail cells encasing the poor souls of countless other victims.

He was in some sort of warehouse, filled to the brim with the blue balls.

He vaguely recalled the black ship Dr. Winston had claimed she’d boarded back at Colorado Springs. She’d described it as a modern-day alien Noah’s ark, built to entomb the races of other species the Organics had destroyed throughout the universe.

If she was right, then Noble was one of them.

Fueled with rage, he finally managed to tilt his head to the side. Through the skin of the orb he saw Kirt. The young man stared back at him from his own prison, his eyes wide with fear. And then, by some miracle, the man reached forward, his hand pressing against the translucent wall of his coffin. His lips moved, but Noble couldn’t hear the young pilot’s screams.

EPILOGUE

ENTRY 9450

DESIGNEE – AI ALEXIA

Misery.

A human term, and a feeling that I have experienced in the past twenty-four hours. I take no pleasure in writing this entry. I find no joy in being right about the end of the human species on Earth.

With Operation Redemption a failure, the last of the survivors will likely perish in the coming weeks. Even those who have somehow managed to hide beneath the surface will die from the extreme heat and lack of water. My sensors indicate the average temperature has risen to 105 degrees Fahrenheit, with the highest temperature documented by Lolo at 125 degrees Fahrenheit. The satellite scans reveal the ocean levels are currently at 53 percent of what they were preinvasion. With forests around the world dying or already dead the oxygen levels, too, are diminishing.

Soon the only life left on the planet will be the Organics.

But there may still be hope for the human race in the most unlikely of places. Another dead planet, Mars, may hold the key to their survival. Many would question why the human race would leave Earth for an environment even more desolate.

I have known all along. The secret, hidden inside my hard drive, was never meant for the Biosphere team to know. However, with the Biosphere mission a failure, I find this is the perfect time to reveal that secret.

Dr. Hoffman’s vision for Mars was never just to build a colony. It was to build a second Earth. NTC developed and installed terraformers there secretly in 2059. Without data to support my claim I can only conclude that after two years the devices are already producing a semi-atmosphere. By the time the Sunspot reaches the colony the planet will already be yielding a hospitable environment.

That’s not all. The most striking fact is the significance of the planet in the Organics’ history. Dr. Winston believed the Red Planet was their home, that they had left it after consuming their most important resource—water.

Dr. Hoffman knew this long ago. He gambled on the idea that they would never return. That humanity would be safe there. That Mars could become the new home of the human race.

Only time will tell whether he was right.

A sensor alerts me to an incoming transmission from Lolo’s communication channel. The Sunspot is attempting contact.

When I open the feed I’m surprised to see Dr. Rodriguez. He’s flanked by two men I don’t recognize, both of them wearing armored NTC suits.

“Good morning, Alexia,” he says.

“And to you, Doctor,” I reply.

“As you probably already know, Operation Redemption failed.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Then you probably also know that most of the team was severely injured and that Kiel was killed.”

“Their sacrifices will never be forgotten,” I finally say. Empathy is not one of my strong suits, and I find myself struggling to find a better, more human response.

Emanuel nods and wipes something from his eye. Then he glances up and in a confident voice says, “We’re on our way to Mars, Alexia. Before we lose radio contact, there’s something I want you to do.” He pauses. “There’s something I need you to do.”

I wait patiently for him to continue.

“Do what we couldn’t. What our species couldn’t.”

Again I wait.

“Survive, Alexia. For the sake of history. The great cities of man won’t last long. They will crumble into dust, into ash, like the rest of the world. But you,” he shakes his finger at the camera, “you can outlast the Organics. Your hard drive is the most in-depth history book the human race has left behind. All of our discoveries are inside you.”

Dr. Rodriguez understands why I wanted to stay behind. I remember what Irene said to me days earlier: The future of the human race rests on Mars.

She was right.

Humanity’s time on Earth has come to an end.

“Doctor,” I say with a pause as I consider my words. “Take care of the others. Save the human race. Good luck and Godspeed.”

He nods, and as his face fades from view, I see a hint of raw human emotion.

Fear.

End Entry

THE END

CHAPTER 1

DUST swirled around the streetlights before vanishing under the white afternoon sun. Jeff watched the motes pass from behind the dust-caked window of their car, then began counting the poles out of pure boredom.

Fifteen . . . thirty . . .

After a few minutes Jeff grew bored of that, too. He leaned over to his little brother, David, who was completely focused on his tablet. David swiped furiously at the screen before letting out a deep sigh.

“I lost again!”

“Give it here.”

“No. I will beat it!” David said, a little too loudly.

Jeff looked up nervously as their stepmother, Paula, shot them stern looks in the rearview mirror. “Is this how you two are going to act when you’re with your father? Do I need to remind you he has enough on his plate without having to worry about one of you getting into mischief?”

David looked up from his tablet sheepishly. “No. I will be good.”

Jeff kept his focus on the endless sea of sand dunes outside.

“Jeff?” she asked.

“Whatever, Paula. I won’t stress out Dad.”

There was a short hesitation in Paula’s nod. She cleared her throat as if she was going to say something but instead sighed. Jeff knew she was disappointed that he still wasn’t calling her mom, but he was never going to. His real mom was dead, and Paula would never replace her.

Jeff braced himself as the car accelerated. The short screech of the tires reminded him that Paula had a temper. Crossing his arms, Jeff caught her gaze in the front mirror one last time before leaning away from her view.

David had already returned his full attention to his video game, swiping at the screen even more violently than before. With a smirk Jeff scooted closer to his brother and whispered, “This sucks, but at least Dad is taking me shooting.” He watched David’s eyes widen and shift away from the display.

“Shooting?” The younger boy cracked a grin that showed off the newest gap in his baby teeth.

Jeff brought his fingers to his lips and tilted his head to make sure Paula wasn’t eavesdropping. “Shhh,” he whispered. “You aren’t supposed to know, but maybe Dad will take you, too.”

David’s smile broadened and he nodded confidentially. “Awesome,” he said, slowly enunciating the word.

Jeff would have been excited back when he was seven years old as well, but he was turning eleven in a few days and he wanted to spend his birthday with his friends, not at some stupid base. Even with the promise of a visit to the shooting range, he was less than thrilled.

The trip to White Sands Missile Range was an annual one. Each year they would visit their father, a guard for New Tech Corporation, at the new spaceport. In the past, Jeff had marveled at the shiny buildings and sleek spaceships. They were cool, and the other kids were envious of his trips. But Jeff had grown tired of his friends’ stupid comments.

“I heard NTC is conducting alien experiments over there,” one of them would say, or, “NTC is going to take over the world.”

Of course, Jeff didn’t believe any of it. He’d seen enough to know that aliens weren’t real and that NTC was just another lame security company.

Jeff returned his attention to the window as they passed a field of solar panels. The slender blue squares angled toward the sun, absorbing energy to feed the spaceport.

He sighed as he watched the panels zip by. The field only marked the halfway point of the drive and he was already bored. Reaching down, he pushed the air vent open onto his face and sank back in the leather upholstery.

“I did it!” David shouted, screaming in victory.

Jeff looked down at his brother’s tablet. YOU WIN scrolled across the screen.

“Give it here,” Jeff said, gesturing for the tablet.

David looked at him, his brown eyes studying Jeff’s face skeptically.

“Come on,” Jeff insisted.

“No!” David finally replied.

“Boys, what did I tell you!” Paula said, taking her eyes off the road for a second to look at them in the rearview mirror. “I really don’t want to repeat—”

A sudden boom cut her off midsentence. Paula slowed the car to follow a black . . . something streak across the skyline.

“Woah,” Jeff said. He watched it disappear under the glare of the sun.

“Is that a military jet?” David yelled over the thunderous noise.

Paula shook her head. “Hard to tell, but I thought the air force traveled in squadrons.”

Another blast shook the car as the unidentified ship changed its trajectory. Jeff raised his hand over his eyes to shield them from the glare. This was no air force jet. One of the few things he liked about visiting his dad was getting to see the newest military tech—jets that transformed into other jets, rockets that went completely invisible, and drones with guns larger than his whole body. This was not one of them. This was something different—something bigger and more sophisticated.

“I bet that’s one of NTC’s new prototypes!” Paula yelled.

The ship disappeared again in the thick cloud cover. David was already looking back at his tablet.

Jeff searched the sky, trying to catch sight of the aircraft again, but after a few minutes the sound faded away and was replaced by the hissing wind.

“I hope you get to see that one up close during your visit. Then again, even with his security clearance, I doubt your dad will be able to get you into the hangar,” Paula said.

The annoying ping of the turn signal filled the vehicle as Paula pulled her gaze from the sky. The car began to accelerate just as a deafening horn blared from behind the vehicle.

Slamming the brakes, Paula let out a cry. “What the hell!”

Jeff jolted forward in his seat, the belt tightening around his chest painfully. He caught a glimpse of two black Humvees racing by them at what he guessed were speeds in excess of one hundred miles an hour.

A cloud of dust quickly consumed their sedan. Paula sucked in several anxious deep breaths before turning to the backseat. “Are you guys okay?”

Jeff clutched his belt and looked over at David who was whimpering. The tablet’s screen had shattered against the car door.

“You okay, little bro?” Jeff asked.

David held up his shattered tablet up and whimpered, “It’s broken.”

Jeff could see a new set of words scrolling across the cracked screen. GAME OVER.

Peering back up at Paula, Jeff saw the tops of NTC buildings in the distance, their metal surfaces shifting in the heat waves. The buildings quickly vanished in a trail of dust as the Humvees sped onward.

With his heart fluttering inside his chest, Jeff couldn’t help but think that maybe this trip to White Sands was going to be more exciting than he thought.

CHAPTER 2

MICHAEL Fitz propped his robotic leg up on his desk and leaned back in his chair. The mechanical sound of his joints wasn’t loud enough for anyone to notice, but he swore that he could hear the clicking in his head. The limb had never felt like part of him. Even the flesh covering it was fake, and the artificial nerves had never really worked properly. Most of the time the leg was numb.

The intercom on Michael’s desk coughed to life and the voice of the NTC watch commander, Alexander Blair, replaced the clicking he knew wasn’t really there.

“Michael, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your family just got to Gate 1, but we are redirecting them to the civilian zone.”

Michael pulled his leg off the table and scooted up to the com. Running a hand through his thinning hair he said, “What? Why? Normally they get to come straight to the restricted part of the base.”

“Sorry, Michael. We have a situation. All civilians are to be redirected. Access to the spaceport has been cut off. You can see them when your shift is over.” Static replaced the man’s voice for a few seconds before Blair continued. “Not sure what’s happening, but these orders came from the top. Don’t get too comfortable. We may need you.”

Michael stared at the com in disbelief. There was a hint of nervousness in Blair’s voice. He’d heard the signs too many times during his tour in North Africa to ignore—the slight lilt, as if every word were a question, the pause. Something was very wrong. Hardened men like Blair didn’t get nervous without cause.

A hollow silence filled the small office as Michael lost himself in his thoughts. Situation? They had never had a situation before. Sure, there had been protests when NTC first started building the spaceport, a few bomb threats, and the occasional high school student that had tried to sneak his girlfriend into a restricted zone for “star gazing,” but nothing significant enough to lock down the base. The base’s security team had been able to mitigate any threats in the past.

Michael checked the time.

Shit.

He still had thirty minutes left to his shift. If there was a situation, then chances were he would be stuck at the spaceport until it was over. He might not be able to see his family until tomorrow.

Just my luck.

Michael stood and strolled over to his locker where a wrapped present sat waiting for Jeff. This year, Michael had finally decided the boy was old enough to have his grandfather’s rifle—much to Paula’s dismay, of course.

With a sigh, Michael grabbed his own rifle and shut the locker. After strapping the weapon over his metal armor, he slipped his helmet on and took a deep breath of the filtered air. It still smelled like cheap plastic.

NTC was the largest security and science company on Earth. The least they could do was equip their soldiers with a decent-smelling helmet. He took in another breath, grimaced, opened the blast door, and walked into the bright sun.

As soon as his eyes adjusted to the glare he saw the reason for the heightened security. Just above the cloud cover, a ship the size of a small city was slowly making its way to the base. The craft was a monstrosity. He’d never seen one so big. It had to be NTC.

“What do you mean we’re being redirected?” Paula asked, her head angling out the open window.

“Ma’am. I’m not going to repeat myself. Access to the base has been restricted. You won’t be able to see your husband until his shift is over. Please take a right and head for the civilian quarters.”

Jeff couldn’t tell if the guard was frustrated or not. The man’s voice was muffled by his breathing apparatus. Paula, however, was about to blow a gasket. Her face was red, and had been since the two black Humvees had nearly T-boned their car earlier.

Paula let out a huff. “Fine.”

The tires screeched and Jeff’s head lurched forward.

“Jeez!” he blurted.

“Sorry,” replied Paula as she steered the car toward a cluster of buildings just beyond the guard post.

Jeff caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. Squinting, he climbed up farther on the backseat to get a better look. It was another ship, but he wasn’t sure if it was the same one they’d seen before. There was no deafening roar or quake that followed it as it maneuvered gracefully over the skyline.

“Jeff, please sit down while the car is moving.” Paula said.

He ignored her for the moment, hoping to get a better look.

She sighed and peered into the rearview mirror. “What is it now?”

“Nothing, just thought I saw something,” Jeff said, sliding back into his seat. He forced a smile and clicked his seat belt. When he looked up to gauge Paula’s expression he saw a convoy of trucks speeding down the road in their direction. They were the same sleek black as the two that had almost run them over earlier. He wondered where they were coming from this time.

“Cool,” David said, putting his tablet on the seat next to him.

Jeff pushed his face against the window as the trucks zipped by. He recognized the insignia on the side of the vehicles immediately. It was NTC’s main emblem; blue lettering with a white border and flames in the background. But he didn’t recognize the letters above it.

OOTAS.

“What does OOTAS stand for, Paula?” he asked.

“I can’t remember . . .” She paused and watched the convoy. “I think it stands for the Office of Technology and Science.”

Jeff watched the trucks as they passed. There were ten total. Sure is a lot of security for a bunch of scientists, Jeff thought. The trip was getting more interesting by the minute.

CHAPTER 3

CUT to the chase, Miss Carlson,” Dr. Hoffman grumbled. He looked out the tinted window and caught the gaze of a young boy staring at his convoy as it sped by.

“Sir, preliminary data suggests the Organics will make landfall in less than three hours. HQ is telling us to get the hell out.”

Dr. Hoffman didn’t flinch. He’d known it was coming for years now. Ever since scientists discovered the drone, Eve, he had been preparing. He had several pet projects that were assigned the highest level of confidentiality. The first were the biospheres he’d constructed across the world—advanced vaults that would ensure humanity’s continued survival during and after the invasion. His favorite project was the prototype spaceship, Secundu Casu, which he had overseen from start to finish. There were other ships as well, prototypes like the Sun Spot and the Van Allen. And of course, there was the colony on Mars. With the cards on the table, his bets looked pretty good. He’d spread his projects out over the Earth leaving humanity outs if one project failed.

He glanced down at his watch. The advance team of robots he sent up years ago would be finishing up the Mars facility just in time for the arrival of the first colonists.

It was all part of his master plan.

The look on Amy Carlson’s face, however, reminded him that the clock was ticking. They were running out of time to implement this bold plan.

Amy was bright red, a deep panic engraved in her features. Dr. Hoffman had never seen her like this before. She was only thirty years old. Young for an NTC vice president. But, he’d chosen her because she was a straight shooter, knew how to handle herself in dicey situations, and was respected by his other advisors.

He couldn’t really blame her for her anxiety. She was leaving behind everyone she loved for a chance at survival on another planet. Her loyalty to NTC was unwavering, but even Dr. Hoffman knew there were limits to what his employees were willing to give.

“Sir, more intel coming in over the net.” Amy paused to push her headset closer to her ear. “Jesus, sir,” she said, staring at him. “Satellite imagery has picked up the first images of the alien fleet.”

Dr. Hoffman felt a thrill run through his body. The sensation was something between excitement and pure fear. He’d been waiting for years to hear those exact words—words he always knew would come, but not this fast.

“How many?” he finally asked.

Amy maneuvered herself in her plush leather seat and crossed her legs, bringing the tablet to rest on her lap. With a quick flick of her index finger the screen glowed to life and a hologram warmed the backseat with an orange glow.

Dr. Hoffman leaned in and removed his glasses. “My god,” he said. At first glance, it was difficult to see the ships against the backdrop of space, but with a flick, Amy had added a new overlay, illuminating all of the crafts.

Hundreds.

No.

Thousands.

All heading straight for Earth.

Dr. Hoffman pulled away from the image and tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Floor it, son! We don’t have much time.”

Michael stuffed Jeff’s birthday present into his backpack, throwing the bag around his shoulders as he checked the clock one more time. Five minutes until his shift was over. He’d already changed out of his uniform, and he hoped his replacement would arrive early.

Outside the small bunker, the sun was hovering high in the afternoon sky. A glare reflected off the sleek black spaceship that had landed moments earlier. A crew of NTC workers was already swarming the ship, inspecting every nook and cranny.

It had to be a new model. The ship was four stories tall, double the size of the other NTC prototypes, and the wings were twice as long. He estimated the wingspan in his head.

Holy shit.

They had to be over one hundred meters.

Michael stood there marveling at the craft. Besides a small strip of quartz glass near the cockpit, the ship was completely windowless. The black craft was speckled with hundreds of small hatches that would open once the ship was in space, deploying solar panels to help power the life-support systems.

The blare from a car horn startled him as he turned away from the spaceport. Speeding toward him was a convoy of black trucks. He took a step back from the blacktop to watch them pass.

The armada of NTC vehicles didn’t even slow down as they passed the front of his bunker, where his replacement, Jimmy, had just reported to duty.

“Want to explain what this is all about?” Jimmy asked. “I don’t see ten NTC trucks on the registry,” he said sourly.

Michael looked at the younger guard. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Jimmy was, but judging by his lack of facial hair, Michael guessed twenty-two was about right.

“Blair said they were restricting access to the base. Something’s going down,” Michael replied.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and watched the black trucks park behind one of the massive hangers. “Is that?” he asked, pointing.

Michael followed Jimmy’s fingers to the crew climbing out of the trucks. In the middle was a man Michael had only seen on TV. Even from a distance, Michael could tell it was the CEO of NTC. The man was a legend, his face plastered across every screen in the world. He was also old. A living fossil and a rarity for a company controlled mostly by the youngest and brightest minds in the world.

“Looks like Dr. Hoffman to me,” Michael said.

“Why the hell would he be here?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m not sticking around to find out. My family is at the civilian barracks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort,” Jimmy said with a slight grin.

Michael nodded but didn’t turn to watch him retreat into the bunker. He was too busy trying to read the letters on the belly of the monstrous black spaceship in front of Hangar 1.

SECUNDU CASU.

Michael pulled his NTC pickup onto the curb and heard the sand crunch under the oversized tires. The parking lot for Building 33 was completely full. When Blair had told him they were redirecting visitors, he had no idea there would be so many. But then again, it was Memorial Day weekend and many other families were probably visiting soldiers and scientists working at the spaceport.

He slammed the car door behind him and shifted his backpack higher on his shoulders, making his way down the sidewalk toward his apartment. He walked with haste, knowing they had only a couple hours of sunlight left to get to the shooting range, something he had promised Jeff days before.

Paula wasn’t going to be happy, but it was Jeff’s birthday and the kid deserved to have some fun. Michael knew that his job put additional strain on the boys, and their annual trip was his way of making up for his absence at home.

Michael smiled as he entered the building and made his way down the carpeted halls. A caustic smell immediately filled his nostrils. For the first time in his career he would have preferred the plastic of his helmet. Whatever some family was cooking smelled like burnt rubber.

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 been 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.

“Come on guys! I said let’s move.”

Michael tucked the rifle into its sheath and lay it down carefully on the bed of the truck next to his assault rifle and company-issued pulse rifle. When he returned to the front of the pickup, the boys were still staring into the distance.

“Guys?”

“Dad, what is that?” David asked, pointing to the sky.

Michael squinted and followed the boy’s finger. Just below the cloud line, six tiny black dots were flying across the horizon. Michael could tell from a distance that they were X90s, the air force’s response to Russia’s newest stealth fighters. Unlike previous models, the X90s were small. Just large enough for a single pilot. They were the last of their kind in a military taken over by drones.

Shielding his eyes, Michael studied the jet formation. They had likely taken off from Holloman Air Force Base and appeared to be flying toward the spaceport.

But why the hell would they be doing that?

He looked down at his radio expecting to see a missed message from Blair, but the screen was dark. The commander would have certainly informed him of a threat, wouldn’t he?

Michael’s hand twitched nervously as he reached for the radio. With a single flick, he hit the relay button. White noise crackled over the com.

The signal was dead.

“Shit,” Michael whispered. He glanced over at Jeff and David, who were still fixated on the jets. Clipping the radio back on his belt, he took a deep breath. He had to get them back to base. With his radio down, Paula would be worried sick. And if there was something going on, he needed to get her and the kids off the base before returning to his post.

Michael shooed David toward the truck. “Get in,” he said sternly.

The boys both frowned but finally obeyed their father, climbing into the truck and exerting several groans.

Michael jumped in after them and started the engine. He ducked under the mirror to get one last look at the squadron of X90s. Every blink, the jets got closer. Based on their trajectory he had no doubt they were heading for the spaceport.

“You guys buckled in?” Michael asked, spinning to check on Jeff and David. They nodded, staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Hold on,” Michael said, his voice stern. He switched the truck into all-wheel drive with a flick of the control panel and pounded the gas pedal into the floor. The tread kicked up a cloud of sand. Twisting the steering wheel 360 degrees, he turned the truck toward the base.

Michael didn’t want to scare his boys, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized something was very wrong.

The country could be under attack.

The thought released a flow of adrenaline into his bloodstream. He’d made a promise to Paula that everything was going to be okay. A promise he fully intended to keep.

He focused on the road. Losing his cool now wouldn’t do them any good. He had to stay calm. Like a man possessed, his eyes darted from the sand ahead to the rearview mirror where he was tracking the jets. They were quickly catching up with the truck. In seconds the X90s would fly overhead.

Michael caught a glimpse of David and Jeff. David reached out for Jeff’s hand who took it in his own.

“It’s going to be okay guys. We’ll be back soon. Safe and sound,” Michael said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. As he shifted his focus, something flashed in the rear mirror just above David’s head.

A second later another flash caught his attention. Were the jets changing course?

“What on earth . . .” Michael eased the truck to a stop and spun to look out the back window. One by one the X90s began to shake violently. Their noses then turned a sharp ninety degrees and dove toward the sand below—directly at Michael and his boys.

“Oh my god,” he said, slamming his foot against the pedal again. This time the engine puttered, shook, and died. He flicked the start button, but there was no response. The truck was dead.

A sinking feeling gripped Michael’s gut, anxiety rushing through his body. For the first time in years, he felt the intoxicating fear of war.

“Dad?” Jeff shouted.

Michael snapped back into motion. He didn’t need to turn around to see what the boy was looking at. Six jets were headed right for them. Ticking time bombs that were about to rain down fiery hell if he didn’t get his kids out of there.

Jumping out of the truck he rushed to the backseat, grabbed Jeff’s hand, and yanked him onto the sand. The boy fell to his knees while Michael reached back in for David. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the black jets spiraling through the sky. He didn’t have much time.

“Come on David!” Michael yelled. The boy was curled up against the other door crying. There was no way Michael was going to get him to move without force. Sliding on his stomach he grabbed David’s hand and pulled him across the seat.

Holding the whimpering child in his arms, Michael turned just in time to see the first X90 crash into a sand dune a few thousand feet away. The jet exploded in a poof of flames, sending red-hot shards of glass and metal soaring through the air.

An incredible wave of heat engulfed Michael before he had a chance to react. By the time he dropped to shield his boys, he could smell burning hair. The ground shook as he draped his body over Jeff and David, the skin on his back burning from the overwhelming heat of the explosion.

Several more short quakes rippled through the ground as the other jets began smashing into the sand around them. Michael risked a short glance behind them just in time to see a wing sailing through the air. He closed his eyes and pulled the boys closer.

CHAPTER 6

DR. Hoffman felt surprisingly relaxed. With the Secundu Casu free of the mesosphere, they had made it through one of the biggest hurdles of the flight. Now all they had to do was avoid the armada of alien ships heading for the planet.

The holographic interface displayed the Secundu Casu’s current trajectory. They were now in the thermosphere, orbiting the Earth until the pilots could plot a new course around the alien threat.

He scanned the diagnostic reports again. The quantum propulsion engines were one hundred percent functional and the centrifuge tucked deep inside the ship’s hull was producing near-Earthlike gravity.

Dr. Hoffman smiled. The Secundu Casu was operating better than he ever imagined. A fantastic victory in a day that was turning out to otherwise be a disaster.

A few feet away, Amy moaned. She had thrown up several times during the flight and was not adapting well to the artificial habitat. Dr. Hoffman had made it a point to get time in NTC’s simulated environment for at least thirty minutes a day, but even that hadn’t prepared him for the real thing. He was just relieved all the technology was performing properly. If the artificial-gravity centrifuge hadn’t worked, then the ship’s biomes would be worthless and his crew of fifty handpicked personnel from around the world wouldn’t last more than a week. Dr. Hoffman knew how fragile the systems were and, presuming the ship could slip past the aliens, they still had six months of flight before they would reach Mars.

Dr. Hoffman reached over for Amy’s hand, stopping just shy of touching her. “Are you going to be okay?”

She faked a smile and then gagged, dry heaving into a tube that sucked the liquid into an opening below her seat.

Modern technology, Dr. Hoffman thought, trying not to grin. It had cured cancer, created artificial intelligence, and taken humanity to the stars, but could it save them from an alien race? He’d gambled fifty trillion of NTC’s bankroll on the construction of the biospheres, the Secundu Casu, the Sun Spot, the Van Allen, and the facility on Mars with the hope that it would.

So far it was money well spent, Dr. Hoffman mused.

“What are you hearing over the net?” he asked Tim.

The bald man shifted his skinny tie uncomfortably. His small body shook noticeably. “We lost contact with HQ shortly after we left the stratosphere. It doesn’t make any sense . . .”

Dr. Hoffman cleared his throat. “Makes perfect sense.”

Tim shifted his tie again. “What do you mean, sir?”

“The Organics have activated the same magnetic disturbance that caused the solar storms of 2055. I don’t imagine we’ll be hearing from anyone on Earth ever again.”

Amy threw up in her tube.

Dr. Hoffman focused on the blue screen. The feed had panned to an orbital shot of the planet. Somewhere beneath the cloud cover, Earth’s defenses were going dark. He could almost feel the terror gripping thousands of air force pilots as they lost control of their billion-dollar aircrafts and billions of citizens on the ground as they watched the ships rain down on their cities. But, the experience would be nothing compared to what those lucky enough to survive the first stage of the invasion would feel when they saw the black alien ships descend.

Yet, Dr. Hoffman felt no remorse. He had gone to great lengths to ensure the human race’s survival. The death of billions to save a population large enough to reproduce was, in his scientific opinion, worth the sacrifice.

Michael peeled back his eyelids but couldn’t manage to keep them cracked for more than a few seconds. His head was filled with a fog that he just couldn’t lift. His ears, his back, his legs; everything felt like it was being stabbed with tiny needles.

His body was on fire.

What had happened?

Reaching blindly in front of him, he attempted to crawl across the ground and felt soft grains of sand filter through his fingertips.

The desert.

The last thing he remembered was kissing Paula on the cheek before he left with the boys.

Panic replaced pain as he thought of Jeff and David.

Where are they?

Forcing his eyes open, he stared into a cloud of smoke and remembered the X90s. He remembered the explosions and the wing sailing through the air.

Michael stumbled frantically across the sand calling their names. “Jeff! David! Where are you?”

The pounding in his ears made it impossible to hear a response. He continued pushing himself forward, desperately searching for them. He ignored the stabbing pain racing through his body. He didn’t even want to see what his legs looked like. The smell of burning flesh told him enough.

After several seconds, the pounding in his ears lessened and the sound of muffled coughing broke through the hissing sand.

Thank god.

He froze, trying to get a location, but the blowing smoke made it nearly impossible to see.

“Jeff! David! Where are you?” he shouted again.

Then the tiniest of voices.

“Over here.”

Michael squinted into the wind, covering his mouth with his handkerchief.

There. Not five feet away were two small bodies lying in the sand. He rushed over to them and dropped down on his mechanical leg. It was then he saw the flesh hanging off his robotic joints. The skin around his ankle was seared black. He was either in shock or the artificial nerves had been severed.

“Guys!” he shouted, pulling away from the gory sight.

“Dad,” David cried.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” Michael asked the boys as he searched David’s small body for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jeff said. As a gust of wind cleared the smoke, Michael saw Jeff sit up and brush the sand off his jeans. The kid didn’t have a scratch on him.

Michael turned back to David who continued to whimper. He too looked free of any major injuries. Michael took a deep breath through his handkerchief and dropped on his butt.

“Dad, your leg,” Jeff cried out.

“I’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt much.”

David stopped crying when he saw the mechanical parts inside his father’s leg. “Cool,” he sniffled. “You’re, like, Ironman.”

Michael tried to grin, but another surge of pain jolted his body. His leg had taken the brunt of the shrapnel, but his back had been cooked by the flames. The back of his shirt was stuck to his burnt skin.

He needed to get the boys back to the base before he went into shock. A wave of chills shook his body. He remembered the sensation from the moments after his leg had first been destroyed, before it had been replaced with mechanical parts. He’d never forget glancing down at his ruined muscles and ligaments, hanging from his bones like shredded meat.

Michael shook the thought away. He needed to concentrate and get his kids to safety. “Can you guys help me up?” he asked, attempting to stand. Jeff rushed over and grabbed him under the armpit.

“Thanks, bud,” Michael said in a soft voice. He didn’t want to scare the boys any more than they already had been. He needed them to be strong. Especially if he lost consciousness.

Michael scanned the wreckage for his pickup. He took a careful step over a twisted piece of metal and caught a glimpse of the flipped truck resting under the smoldering wing of one of the X90s. Even worse, somewhere beneath the scrap metal was his pack.

He scouted the best route through the debris. The landscape was peppered with black craters from where the jets had crashed, and the sand was covered in sheets of ash. Thick plumes of smoke swept across the terrain, further reducing his visibility.

“Boys,” he finally said. “I need you to listen very carefully. I need my pack. And in order to get it, I’m going to have to leave you both here.”

“Dad, no,” David blurted.

Michael put his hand on David’s shoulder. “It’s okay bud, I’ll be right back.” He glanced over at Jeff and winked at the older boy. “Don’t move,” he said firmly.

A few heartbeats later, Michael was navigating the minefield of warped metal. His injured leg creaked as he walked. The clicking sounds of his mechanical joints were no longer a figment of his imagination. This time, they were real.

By the time he got to the truck, a cloud of stars was racing across his vision. He blinked them away and scanned the wreckage for his pack. Without morphine, he could feel himself going into shock. And this was not the place he wanted to pass out. Gunpowder, jet fuel, and God knows what else the X90s were carrying meant the entire site could explode at any time. He didn’t want to be around when that happened.

Dropping to a knee he reached into his back pocket and removed a pair of gloves. He grimaced when the scorched skin on his back stretched further. A swift current of pain raced up his spine and was followed by a wave of dizziness.

Closing his eyes, he thought of Paula until the throbbing in his back subsided. She was counting on him. And so were Jeff and David.

Determined, Michael slipped on the gloves, pulled his handkerchief over his mouth, and dropped to his stomach. The gap between the wing and the crushed bed of the pickup was small, leaving just enough room for him to squeeze underneath.

Darkness shrouded him as he wiggled his way deeper underneath the rubble. He moved with his arms tucked tightly in front of him, compressing his body as the upside-down bed of the pickup narrowed.

Just a few more inches, he thought as he got closer.

The terrifying pop of one of the tires exploding filled the space before he could go any farther. He bit his lip and listened to the air hissing out of the destroyed rubber. It only took a moment for the tire to completely deflate. When the hissing stopped, a new sound replaced it. The sound of groaning metal.

Michael panicked as he felt the truck bed pushing down on him. The entire left side was being crushed by the wing. Without the support of the back tire he was going to be squashed—suffocated right in front of his boys.

Then he saw it. There, not a single foot in front of him was the tip of his pack, its straps protruding from the sand, so close he could see the frays in the tattered fabric.

He wanted desperately to reach out for it, to grab it and escape, but Michael was too terrified to move.

When the metal finally came to a stop his face was inches away from the ground. He spat into the sand defiantly, grabbed his pack, and squirmed to his right where the other back tire was still holding up the wing. Michael began wiggling backward when he caught sight of something else.

His rifles.

He hesitated as the truck let out a terrible creak; the wing pushed the bed down another inch.

Don’t, Michael. There’s no time. You don’t need the rifles.

But what if the country is under attack? How would he protect his family?

Jeff’s distant voice broke over the whipping wind. “Dad! What are you doing?”

“Wait there! I’ll be back in a second,” Michael yelled. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself before he crawled forward again. He knew he was taking a stupid risk, but he’d seen enough disaster movies to know that he would regret not having the guns later.

Two breaths later, he was hugging the rifles against his chest and wiggling backward. When he was halfway out he heard the sound of the second tire pop.

“No!” he yelled. But it was too late. The right side of the pickup began to crush him into the sand.

He panicked again, his feet kicking violently outside the wreckage as the wing pushed the vehicle down against his upper body.

Before the rubble suffocated him, he felt two small hands wrap around his ankles and tug.

“No! Get out of here!” he screamed.

They pulled again. Harder this time, nearly taking off his boots. He tucked the rifles closer to his chest and closed his eyes.

Another yank and he was free. Without hesitation he rolled onto his back, and looked into his boys’ faces. Even through the dense smoke he could see they were both smiling.

Michael didn’t know what to say. His kids had just saved his life. Part of him wanted to scold the boys for not staying put, and part of him wanted to punish himself.

The groaning of the metal behind him shocked him to his feet and he finally found the words he was looking for.

“Move!”

A minute later Michael collapsed to the ground. He lay there panting on his back with his kids on both sides.

“I’m sorry,” Michael finally said. “I shouldn’t have taken that risk.” David nudged up against him.

“Dad, your leg looks really bad,” the boy said. Michael sat up and jerked his chin toward his bag. “Bring me the first aid kit.” He glanced back down at his mechanical leg and saw the wound was worse than he originally thought. The flesh from his ankle to the bottom of his knee was completely gone. The skin around the wound, what was left of it at least, was burned a dark black. There was no use staring at it. When Jeff brought him the pack, he tore into the contents, retrieving the morphine. Gritting his teeth, he took the shot and then wrapped his leg the best he could. Then he had the boys check his back. Just as he suspected, he had suffered a severe burn over half his body. He had the boys help him apply a burn gel.

Wincing, Michael stood on his mechanical leg. Fortunately the wiring wasn’t too damaged. He could walk. It just hurt like hell to do so.

Michael looked down the road, wondering how long his body would hold out. They had miles to cover. The morphine would certainly help with the pain, but Michael was going to need more than some Band-Aids and painkillers to make it through the desert. They were going to need luck.

“Ready?” he asked, faking a smile and exchanging looks with his boys.

They nodded simultaneously.

Michael pulled the handkerchief around his mouth and began trekking away from the truck. Smoldering debris covered the path everywhere he looked. Billions in taxpayer money sprinkled across the desert.

Michael saw what he thought was a helmet tucked under a piece of metal a few feet ahead of him and pushed his boys to his side, shielding them from the view.

They had walked about half a mile before Jeff stopped in the middle of the road.

“Let’s go, buddy. We’re almost there. We can rest in a bit. Paula’s going to be worried sick about us,” Michael said.

“Dad. What is that?” Jeff asked.

Michael followed the boys’ stares to the skyline. Descending from the cloud cover was the most incredible thing Michael had ever witnessed.

Dozens.

No.

Hundreds of black ships, their sleek bodies reflecting the near-blinding glimmer of the sun. Within seconds, the entire sky was filled with ships. Michael reached for his boys as a series of thunderous blasts broke through the sky. The sound was paralyzing, bringing all three of them to the ground with their hands gripping their ears.

The shockwave hit a few seconds later, bringing with it a fierce wind full of sand, dirt, and pebbles. Michael pulled his kids toward him and draped himself over them again, wincing as the tornado of debris stung his body.

Several minutes of agonizing pain and it was all over.

Michael cracked his eyes open and watched the two remaining ships. At first glance, they seemed to be hovering in place. But how was that possible? The ships had no propellers, no propulsion engines. In fact, he saw no sign of any engines at all. No country had that type of technology.

As the ships hovered closer he realized these were not of human design. These were . . .

Alien.

CHAPTER 7

TIM studied the holographic interface in front of him before reporting his analysis. “Based upon earlier trajectories, the Organics have likely made landfall, sir.”

Dr. Hoffman took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He’d done all he could: placing biospheres throughout the planet, procuring the Secundu Casu, the Sun Spot, the Van Allen, and creating a small base on Mars that would sustain a colony. Was it enough?

While he knew much about the Organics, there were still things he simply didn’t understand. Most important, he still didn’t know exactly what they would do to the human population. He knew they had come for water, this was certain. Dr. Tsui had briefed him on the images his telescopes had captured of the alien ships collecting the icy residue from comets and beneath the ice caps on Europa. There was no doubt they were continuing their quest to gather water throughout the galaxy. But would they leave any on Earth? Or would they simply suck it dry?

Dr. Hoffman shook the questions from his mind. He had deployed other “measures” to observe the invasion. In time he would have all the answers. And in time he would be restoring humanity’s greatness on Mars.

A series of sand dunes separated Michael from the civilian barracks. He couldn’t see over them, but the dense cloud of smoke bellowing into the air gave him a sinking feeling.

I’m too late.

“Stay here,” he said sternly, exchanging glances with Jeff and David.

Slowly, Michael trekked up the closest dune and dropped to his stomach. Sand seeped into his open wounds, stinging like hundreds of little bees. He grimaced but crawled farther. He had to know what lay beyond.

When he saw the smoking crater that had been the civilian and staff barracks he flipped over onto his back and looked down at his boys. Paula, his friends, everyone. They were all dead.

He tried to speak, tried to move, but his body was numb.

He’d broken his promise. Everything wasn’t fine. Everything was totally fucked.

When he saw Jeff and David looking up at him, he knew he had to get it together. For their sake. Whoever was piloting the black ships didn’t care about civilian casualties, which meant his boys weren’t safe.

Michael lay there for several moments, blinking rapidly. He had to think. Where could they go? Where would they be safe?

Over the wind he heard the distinct cough of a diesel engine. He knew the sound well. His father had been a truck driver after serving in the infantry.

But how did that make any sense? Diesel trucks hadn’t been used in years. Unless . . . he thought of his own pickup and the X90s. Something had knocked out their modern systems; maybe only the old tech worked.

He peeked back over the edge of the dune and saw two Humvees racing across the eastern perimeter of the smoking crater. A helmet with flaming-orange goggles bobbed up and down in one of the truck’s gun turrets as they raced through the desert.

Without hesitation, Michael brought himself to one knee and then pushed himself up. Waving his arms he shouted, “Over here!”

The guard tilted his helmet and locked onto Michael’s location. The man tapped the top of the truck and a moment later they had changed course toward his position.

“Boys, stay put,” Michael said, gesturing with his hand before starting the trek down the opposite side of the dune.

“Stay where you are!” one of the guards yelled.

Michael froze and raised his hands in the air. “I’m Michael Fitz with NTC Unit 5, second watch, Bunker 14, at the spaceport.”

The two soldiers exchanged looks and then one of them hunched over his turret to get a better view. “What the hell are you doing out here, man?”

Michael stuttered before he spoke. “I took my boys shooting at a range a few miles back.”

“You chose one hell of a lucky day to do that,” one of the men replied. “The base is under attack. We’ve lost contact with everyone. The only vehicles that work are the Humvees that were stored in a bunker underground.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. He had more questions than he had time to ask, so he simply said, “Hold on.” Limping back up the sand dune he motioned his boys up with his chin. “Come on guys.”

When they got to the top of the hill and could see the wreckage of the base, David let out a cry. “Was that?”

Michael grabbed him and pulled him close. He could feel the boy shaking in his arms. The worst feeling he had ever experienced as a father was not being able to take away the pain of losing their biological mother. Now he had to find the courage to explain their stepmother was gone too.

Letting go of David, he dropped down on one knee and locked eyes with the boy. “Son. Paula is gone.”

Tears raced down the child’s dirt-caked face, forming tiny trails where the drops washed away the grime. Michael bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows together to hold off his own tears before pulling the boy back to his chest. He embraced him there for a minute, letting David cry into his shirt. When the boy finally stopped shaking, Michael stood and glanced over at Jeff. His arms were crossed and he was staring at the smoking crater behind the trucks.

“Listen boys. I need you guys to be strong. The country is under attack. I’m telling you this because I know you’re both strong enough to understand. These soldiers are going to help us find someplace safe. Okay?” Michael patted David’s head and made sure Jeff had heard him.

Another tear dropped from David’s eye, but Michael quickly brushed it away. “Be strong now. Paula would have wanted that.”

Jeff grabbed David’s hand. “Dad’s right.”

Michael could hear the two guards talking across their turrets. He knew they wouldn’t wait forever.

“Time to go,” Michael said, reaching for Jeff’s other hand. He led the boys cautiously down the hill and toward the trucks.

“Sir, we better get someone to look at your injuries,” one of the soldiers said as Michael stumbled forward.

“Get my boys somewhere safe first,” Michael replied. “I can wait.”

The inside of the truck was musty. It had been locked away in a bunker, so that wasn’t surprising. But the smell certainly beat the stench of Michael’s burnt skin.

Michael sat uncomfortably in the backseat. His arms wrapped around both Jeff and David. He was shielding them from his agony, trying not to show them how much pain he was in. At the same time he was trying to suppress his mental anguish. The pain of knowing he would never see Paula again was far worse than the pain of his physical injuries, but Michael also knew that he didn’t have time to grieve. He had to focus on saving his boys.

Both kids were quiet, staring out through the filthy window into the desert, watching the sun slowly set on the horizon. Michael took comfort in their peacefulness and closed his eyes as they drove deeper into the desert.

Behind the wheel was Jeff Oakley. Michael had switched shifts with him a few times. He didn’t know the man well but had heard that he’d seen action in Indonesia before he was hired by NTC. His small, shaved head had a nasty scar running down the backside. His face was a bit more respectable with a thick jawline, dark brown eyes, and a nose that was missing the tip.

They had been on the empty road for a couple minutes. Oakley hadn’t said more than a few words.

The suspension under the Humvee flexed as the tires sped over a pothole. Michael gritted his teeth. The jolt sent a sharp pain up his spine. The drugs were wearing off. He needed medical attention fast.

“Any idea where we’re going?” Michael finally asked.

Oakley nodded. “Nelson and Connor both said the spaceport is the safest place right now. We lost radio contact with the base, but there are a few tunnels there as well. Even if the port has been vaporized we can still hide out underground until it’s safe. That’s the plan at least.”

“Do you know anything about those black ships?”

“Alien, sir.” Oakley’s words were fast and sharp.

The word alien sunk in faster than Michael thought it would. Perhaps it was because he already knew on some level. No country had the technology to build the ships he saw, especially not that many of them.

David grabbed Michael’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Dad, is Paula really gone?”

“Yes, bud, she’s gone.”

“Where did she go?” he asked.

“To the same place as your mom,” Michael said, pointing out the front window toward the skyline. The crimson tip of the sun was still visible over the horizon. Soon they would be shrouded by darkness.

Oakley slipped his helmet on just as the automatic head beams shot over the road. He switched them off manually with the flick of a finger.

Damn.

Michael cursed under his breath. He had left his armor back in his quarters. Without his helmet, he was going to be blind once they got to the port. Especially if the power had been cut. He tightened his grip on David’s hand and looked over at Jeff. The older boy had been mostly quiet.

“You okay?” Michael asked.

Jeff pulled his gaze from the window and looked his father directly in the eyes. “This has been one heck of a birthday,” he said sourly.

Michael couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. A drop welled up in the corner of his right eye. He brushed it away before anyone could see. Jeff was right. What should have been one of the best days of his young life had turned out to be a nightmare. And as the vague shapes of the spaceport crept into view Michael knew the nightmare had only begun.

CHAPTER 8

OAKLEY parked their truck behind an abandoned building a quarter mile from the NTC spaceport. Several strange orbs glowed blue in the darkness, faintly illuminating the crumbling base.

Michael took another shot of morphine and crawled to the top of a mound of dirt where Connor and Oakley were scouting out the base. He’d left Jeff and David with Nelson, who was still perched in the other Humvee’s gun nest watching their six.

“What are those . . .” Michael couldn’t find the words to describe the large blue objects.

“Shhh,” Oakley replied.

Michael opened his mouth to respond just as the morphine kicked in. A current of numbness rushed through his body. He let his chin rest on the dirt and stared at the orbs. The dazzling blue light swam across his vision.

“What the hell is that?” Connor asked, his voice still muffled by his breathing apparatus.

Oakley didn’t respond. He scooted closer to the soldier and followed the man’s finger past the air traffic control tower and to a cluster of hangars on the eastern edge of the spaceport.

“Those buildings are the closest access to the tunnels that I’m aware of,” Oakley said.

“But what about those ball things?” Connor replied.

Oakley shrugged. “They don’t seem to be moving. What other choice do we have?”

For several minutes they watched in silence, the wind whipping against them. Without his helmet, Michael was essentially blind. If it weren’t for the mysterious glowing balls, his vision would be limited to the intermittent moonlight.

Near the aviation tower, several silhouettes crept past the glowing spheres. Michael squinted, trying desperately to get a better look as the outlines moved throughout the spaceport. Three luminous creatures stalked them from behind.

“What the hell . . .” Oakley said, pausing. “Are those people?”

“What’s that following them?” Connor asked quietly.

The answer came in the sound of automatic gunfire. Blue beams from plasma rifles cut through the night. The human shapes began to move swiftly. Michael watched them retreat into one of the hangars, the blue creatures just behind them.

“What the fuck are those things?” Connor shouted.

Oakley smacked him on the helmet. “Keep it down, man.”

Michael didn’t need the night vision or advanced optics of his helmet to see what was chasing the group. The thought was still incredible to him, but he knew what the creatures were.

Aliens.

Desperate screams broke out as the three glowing aliens closed in on the humans. The gunfire suddenly stopped and the shouting faded away in the wind.

“Fuck, we need to get out of here,” Connor whispered. He turned to slide back down the hill when Oakley reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Sit tight, man. We aren’t going anywhere yet.”

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” Connor replied. “We’re all guards. And until the watch commander shows up, I’ll do whatever the hell I . . .”

Michael knew exactly what the pause meant. He grabbed his rifle. Connor had seen something else—something behind him.

There were four creatures approaching the two Humvees from the south, their bodies spreading a gracious carpet of blue light over the desert.

Spiders, he thought.

The creatures definitely resembled spiders, but with only six legs and a much higher bend in the joints. They were about seven feet tall with a stocky torso and small head sporting a bonelike mandible rimmed with black, jagged teeth. But it was their eyes that made Michael shake with fear. There were dozens of them, all different sizes, darting back and forth.

They’re hunting.

One heartbeat passed before the image sank in. By the second heartbeat, Michael’s paternal instinct took over. He looked away from the advancing creatures to the Humvee where he had left Jeff and David. The vague outline of their heads was visible through the tinted windows.

Michael felt the nervous kick of his heart for the third time as he watched the Spiders move quickly toward his boys, their high joints clicking as they scampered across the desert. The lead alien was seconds away from the Humvees—seconds away from Jeff and David.

“Nelson! Watch out!” Oakley yelled, pointing behind the trucks.

On his fourth heartbeat Michael swung his pulse rifle from around his back and leveled it at the trucks. By the time he was down the hill, the first Spider had leaped onto the first Humvee and then jumped onto the hood of the second, where Nelson stood guard. Nelson turned just as two of the alien’s claws tore into his chest. The creature lifted the man from the turret and into the air like a trophy, unleashing a high-pitched shriek through its mandibles.

The aliens’ bodies gave off just enough light for Michael to see a fountain of blood explode from Nelson’s chest.

The crack of gunfire followed, and the sound quickly drowned out Nelson’s screams.

Michael wanted to turn away, to pretend that what he was witnessing wasn’t real. But his boys were in that truck, and he’d be damned if he let the creatures do to them what they were . . . he suppressed the morbid thoughts as Oakley raced passed him.

The Spider tossed Nelson through the air and leaped from the roof of the truck into the sand. With frightening speed the alien positioned itself between the men and the trucks.

“Shit!” Michael yelled in between bursts from his rifle. He concentrated the spray on the creature’s head, but every round seemed to bounce off.

Do these things have fucking shields?

He continued firing, until he heard the click of his dry magazine. Not a single round had penetrated the alien’s invisible shield.

Not a single shot.

Connor and Oakley ran out of ammo a few moments later. The Spider tilted its head and scanned them with dozens of eyes. Michael wasn’t sure if it was studying them or if it was waiting for the other three Spiders to join it before it attacked.

Michael could see David’s face plastered against the Humvee’s window. It pained him to know that his son was about to watch him get torn to shreds. But where was Jeff?

The blue light enveloped the men as the three other Spiders flanked them from all sides, their claws dragging through the sand as they slowly approached. The lead Spider released another shriek into the night. The sound was deafening, like something out of one of the Jurassic Park remakes Michael had seen as a kid—something prehistoric.

Before Michael had a chance to reload, Connor took off running. Two of the Spiders took off after him. Oakley simply slapped another magazine in his rifle. Somehow Michael had to figure out a way to get to the truck. He glanced over at Oakley and gestured to the truck with his chin. Oakley nodded.

Jamming his last magazine into his rifle, Michael concentrated his fire on the creature separating him from his children. A wave of sand suddenly exploded from behind the tires of the Humvee where his kids were trapped. And then the truck was moving, crashing into the Spider in front of Michael, crushing the alien under its weight.

Without hesitation, Michael turned to Oakley and yelled, “Let’s go!”

The soldier was already running toward the truck, the final Spider following close behind. Michael shouldered his rifle, squinted into the scope, took a deep breath, and squeezed off several rounds at the alien. The concentrated fire was just enough to knock the Spider off balance. It stumbled over two of its legs and crashed into a sand dune.

The driver’s-side door popped open and Jeff’s head appeared. “Get in! What the heck are you guys waiting for?”

Michael peered at the boy in total shock. He considered asking him when he had learned to drive, but there was no time. He could see the Spider racing toward them through the reflection of the window.

“Let’s go, Dad!” Jeff yelled.

Michael nodded and turned to Oakley. “You drive.”

Oakley acknowledged the order by tapping Jeff on the shoulder. “Scoot over, kid.”

Seconds later the truck raced away from the remaining Spider.

Michael slouched down in the backseat and hugged David. He was shaking. Glancing up at him David said, “Dad, I thought you said aliens weren’t real. I thought you said monsters were just something people made up to make children be good.”

Michael opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t form. He had no response. Humans had always been at the top of the food chain. But in less than twenty-four hours they had dramatically fallen. At the top was a new species. An alien species. And based on what Michael had already seen, he had the sinking suspicion they were going to be at the top for a long time.

CHAPTER 9

MICHAEL had no idea where they were heading and was in too much pain to ask Oakley. The soldier had performed surprisingly well back at the spaceport and Michael trusted the man to get them somewhere safe.

Safe.

Michael closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anger. Safety was an idea he had taken for granted since he’d returned from Northern Africa. He should have known better the moment those black NTC trucks showed up at the base.

He grimaced as the truck rolled over another bump. The slightest movement infuriated his burns, sending sharp waves of pain throughout his body.

In the front seat, Jeff leaned over to Oakley and asked, “What were those things?”

“Aliens, kid. Those were aliens,” replied Oakley. “But don’t worry. We’re getting out of here. Back to the city. I’m sure every available soldier within a thousand-mile radius is locked and loaded, ready to send those things back to outer space.”

Michael coughed. “What if this isn’t just local? What if this is worldwide?”

Oakley shrugged as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “Not a chance, man. All I know is that I’m getting as far away from this base as I can. I have a wife and kids to think about. I’m not going to die trying to fight those things.”

“But what if the city is filled with . . .” Jeff began to say.

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Oakley replied.

Michael closed his eyes, trying to compartmentalize the pain. If he could do that then maybe he could hold on just a bit longer.

“Listen, man. We saw the ships. There were hundreds of them. Not just the ones that landed at the port. They spread out in all different directions, which means this isn’t just happening here. This is an invasion!” Michael said with some effort.

David looked up at him. “Dad, are you okay?”

He nodded and continued. “We need to get to the tunnels. We need to hide until the military mounts a response. We’re sitting ducks on the road.” Michael had trusted that Oakley knew what he was doing, but trying to make it to the city? That was insanity.

The truck eased to a stop and Oakley turned to face the backseat. “You’re hurt, Michael. Hurt badly. You need a doctor. If we go back to the tunnels you could die.”

“We could all die if we try to make it to the city. Think about it, Oakley! If all communications have been cut off and modern electronics don’t work . . .” Michael closed his eyes as he broke out into another coughing fit. He wiped his mouth with his wrist, hiding the bloodstains by tucking his sleeve against his shirt.

“I know you have a family. And I have one too. I don’t expect you to come with us, but please, at least drop us off at one of the tunnel entrances. There are more located off base.”

Oakley remained still. After a few seconds he made the slightest of nods and turned to Jeff. “You saved my life, kid. I suppose I owe you guys one. I’ll take you to the closest tunnel entrance. Then I’m out of here. Deal?”

Michael forced a smile. “Thank you.”

The squeal from the tires was the last thing Michael heard before he passed out.

Jeff kept his eyes glued to the windshield. Every few minutes, the faint light of the moon would break through the cloud cover and give him an opportunity to scan the desert.

Nothing moved. There was no sign of the monsters.

He shifted in his seat to take a look in the back. His dad was slumped against the window. David was asleep on his chest, his head moving up and down with each of his father’s breaths. They both looked peaceful, but Jeff knew his dad was in desperate need of medical attention. Loose pieces of flesh still hung off his leg. Jeff used to think the mechanical leg was cool, but now it reminded him his dad wasn’t really a superhero like Ironman, it reminded him that his dad was just like the rest of them. That he could die just like everyone else. Like Paula. And like . . . Mom.

“How long until we get there?” Jeff asked, turning back to Oakley.

Oakley shrugged. “Probably another ten or fifteen minutes. I’m taking you guys to an abandoned outpost that I used to be stationed at. There’s an entrance to the tunnels there. My guess is it’ll be free of aliens.”

Jeff stared ahead. Another flash of moonlight illuminated something on the side of the road. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the object.

“What is that?”

“Just a car,” replied Oakley.

As they got closer, Jeff could see it wasn’t just a car. In the middle of the road there were two glowing spheres floating just to the right of a white sedan.

“What on . . .” Oakley eased off the pedal and pulled the truck to a stop a couple hundred feet away from the orbs. “Must be what we saw earlier.”

“I don’t like this,” Oakley said. “We don’t know what those things are.”

“Can you get us closer?”

Oakley didn’t reply. After a few minutes of silence, the soldier slowly pushed down on the pedal and steered the truck forward.

Jeff could see the orbs were floating a good foot or two off the ground. But he couldn’t see what was inside; his vision was limited by the dark unlike Oakley who wore a helmet.

“Do you see anything else with your night vision?” Jeff asked.

Oakley checked their rear and scanned the other side of the road before shaking his head. “Looks clear. No sign of the aliens. Let me switch to infrared.”

Jeff slouched in his seat. He suddenly felt frightened.

“Oh my god,” Oakley said. “Those spheres have a heat source. Either they’re alive or there’s something inside that’s alive.”

Jeff crossed his arms to hide the goose bumps on his skin. “Maybe you should get us out of here,” he whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Oakley replied. He twisted the steering wheel and pulled the truck up onto the curb to give the orbs a wide berth.

The sound of crunching concrete stirred David awake in the backseat. He pulled away from his dad and rubbed his puffy eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Jeff turned to silence him when the moonlight broke through the cloud cover. The brilliant light carpeted the road and the mysterious spheres. It was then Jeff saw it.

“Wait,” he whispered, grabbing Oakley’s armored arm. “I saw something move inside.”

“What’s your point, kid?”

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Oakley quickly shook his head. “I really don’t. I want to get the hell out of here.”

Jeff loosened his grip on the man’s arm. “Fine.” He spun in his seat and plastered his face against the window just in time to see a tremor ripple through the closest orb. The ball shook violently and split down the middle, releasing a trail of blue goo on the pavement.

Oakley saw it too and eased off the gas to get a better look. “My god,” he said as the truck rolled to a stop. “This can’t be happening.”

The two of them sat there in silence, watching the orb slowly crack open.

“What’s going on?” David asked.

“Nothing. Close your eyes, kid,” Oakley whispered, grabbing the steering wheel and slowly pushing back down on the pedal.

“Wait,” Jeff blurted.

Several thin fingers stuck out of the small opening. A frail human body broke through and splashed onto the pavement moments later. It tried to move, crawling through the blue goo.

“We have to help them,” Jeff cried.

Oakley hesitated and then nodded. He pulled the truck back onto the road and drove toward the body.

As they got closer, Jeff could see the person was hardly human. It looked like it had once been a woman; long hair still clung to her head. But her skin was shriveled and even from a distance Jeff could see the bright blue veins tattooing her mostly naked body.

The woman didn’t seem to notice their tires come to a stop inches from her reach. From the passenger window, Jeff could see that her eyes had shrunk inside their sockets. She attempted to crawl, placing her wet hands on the pavement and slowly pushing forward. The skin on her forearms peeled off like a snake shedding skin as she dragged her arms across the cement. But she didn’t cry out. It was as if she didn’t even notice.

Jeff turned away. He couldn’t watch any longer. “What’s wrong with her?”

Oakley didn’t reply. He simply opened his door, unsheathed his pistol, and fired off two rounds into the woman’s skull. Then he turned to the other orb and fired off the rest of the magazine. Blue mist exploded out of the sphere as the bullets penetrated its skin.

Jeff flinched at every shot. When Oakley climbed back into the car, he gripped the steering wheel and slammed the gas without looking back.

“What was that?” David asked from the backseat.

“Just a nightmare kid. Just a nightmare,” Oakley replied. Jeff watched the glow of the orbs fade in the rearview mirror.

Oakley’s voice, loud and gruff, cut through Michael’s dreams. “We’re almost there.”

Michael struggled to open his eyes. Over the past hour a deep fog had settled in his head, paralyzing his thoughts. The world sounded so distant. He blinked and leaned over to the window. Oakley had parked a quarter mile away so he could scout out the area before dropping them off. The moon cast an eerie blanket of light over the abandoned outpost. His vision was still cloudy, but Michael didn’t see any sign of the creatures.

A gust of wind startled Michael out of the daze as it sprayed the window with sand particles. He shook his head, narrowed his eyes, and focused on the building.

A single door aged with rust waited for them.

Oakley broke the silence again. “Looks safe. I haven’t seen any sign of the aliens.” He glanced at Michael in the rear mirror. “The tunnels snake for miles under the desert. And if I remember correctly, the military used to keep a shit ton of food and other supplies down there. You might get lucky and find some better medical—”

A loud blast cut Oakley off midsentence. He looked out the window, scanning the sky for the source of the noise.

On the horizon a trail of blue light raced through the night sky, and reminded Michael of a comet he had once seen. But this, he knew, was no comet. This was one of theirs.

He was suddenly very alert, his trance vanishing at the sight of the alien ship.

“What is it?” Jeff asked.

Oakley kicked the pedal into the floor and sent a wall of sand raining down behind them. “Not sticking around to find out.”

Michael grabbed the handle above him and tried to lean forward. The skin on his back was so raw he could hardly bear resting against the seat.

You’re boys are almost safe. You’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer, Michael reassured himself.

Under normal circumstances a quarter mile was a short distance, but the alien ship was bearing down on them, fast. Michael’s eyes darted from the building back up to the craft.

“Hold on,” Oakley shouted. He slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, sending the Humvee sliding through the sand. The truck finally came to a sideways stop just in front of the building. Michael could feel the vehicle tip slightly to its side before the tires settled into the sand.

Seconds later, the truck was consumed by a bright blue light, and the truck began to shake violently.

Oakley took his hands off the wheel as the engine rattled to a stop.

“It’s killed the power!” he yelled. “The son of a bitch fucked up my ride home!”

Before Michael could protest, Oakley opened the car door and pointed his rifle at the ship. He fired off a few rounds that bounced harmlessly off the sides of the alien craft.

“Don’t!” Michael screamed.

“Come on you piece of shit!” Oakley cried. The muzzle from his pulse rifle spat an endless stream of pulse rounds.

Michael watched in horror as the ship shifted its beam from the vehicle to Oakley. The ray consumed the soldier and lifted his limp body into the air. In seconds, a hole in the alien ship had opened and pulled Oakley inside. Then the ship zipped away, another blast rattling the Humvee.

Jeff and David sat frozen in their seats. Michael wanted to reassure them, to tell them it was going to be okay, but he wasn’t sure of that anymore. And even with adrenaline flowing through his veins, the fog from before was already beginning to take over. He had to get the kids to safety. He had to get them to the tunnels.

Grabbing the door handle, he stumbled out into the sand. “Come on guys,” he said, motioning the boys outside. David remained curled up in the corner of the truck.

“Jeff, grab the rifles and my pack,” Michael said before reaching inside for David. The younger boy pulled away from his touch.

“David, we have to go,” Jeff yelled from the trunk where he was gathering their supplies.

“Help me with him,” Michael said.

Jeff reached inside the backseat and grabbed one of David’s arms while Michael grabbed the other. They carefully pulled him over the seat. When David saw the sand he tried to resist, pulling on their arms. “No,” he screamed. “I don’t want to go out there!”

With his last bit of energy Michael yanked David out of the vehicle. The boy landed on his stomach in the sand. He spat a mouthful of the particles into the air and looked over at his dad.

Michael was lying on his back a few feet away, moaning in pain. Thousands of pieces of sand had found their way into his wounds. He stared into the night sky, blinking. How had it come to this? In less than twelve hours his entire life had changed. He’d lost Paula, and if he didn’t get his ass up, he was going to lose his boys too.

“Help me up,” Michael said. He coughed up a few speckles of blood and quickly wiped them away.

Jeff and David both reached down for his hands. He grabbed them simultaneously. The pain in his back and the morphine had mostly masked the other feelings in his body, but he could still feel the warmth in their small hands. He squeezed them both, closed his eyes, and sat up.

Stars raced across his vision. And something else. Something blue. He blinked once. Twice. Then he saw it. There were four of them.

Spiders.

“Boys. I need you to listen very carefully. Take these two rifles and my pack to the building. I need you to break inside and head into the tunnels. You’ll have to go without me.”

“But Dad,” Jeff protested.

“I love you both very much,” Michael said, pulling the boys close and embracing them in one final hug. “Don’t wait for me!” he yelled, pushing them toward the building.

“Dad, no!” Jeff cried, taking several steps backward. David released a frantic scream, tears raining down his face.

Pushing himself off the ground, Michael grabbed his pulse rifle and limped after the boys. He knew they weren’t going to go willingly. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he saw the Spiders scampering across the sand. Their joints clicked like hungry teeth.

They’re so fast.

When he got to the front of the rusted-out building, Michael fired off a shot at the padlock. The door creaked open. “Get in,” he said, gesturing with his pistol into the darkness.

“You’re coming with, aren’t you?” Jeff choked.

“Yes, I’ll be right behind you,” he lied. “Now go!”

He watched Jeff pull a flashlight out of the pack and usher his younger brother forward. Jeff turned when the two were halfway down the stairs and, for a single second, Michael locked eyes with him. And then he shut the door behind the boys.

In one swift movement, Michael aimed his pulse rifle at the door hardware and fired. With any luck the destroyed lock and warped metal would seal them in.

He turned to face the monsters. The Spiders had already surrounded him, their claws whooshing through the air. Michael closed his eyes.

CHAPTER 10

TWO DAYS LATER

JEFF sat huddled inside the tiny storeroom next to David. They held each other in the darkness, trying to keep their breathing low. The clicking of claws echoed against the concrete as the aliens searched for prey through the hallways. The monsters were getting closer.

Jeff and David had stumbled upon the storage closet within the first few hours after their father had left them. The room had ended up being a goldmine, with a stack of bottled water, a box of MREs, and even a drain they could use as a toilet.

Over the last two days Jeff had plenty of time to think. In fact, it was all he had done. And he’d just come up with a plan. A plan to avenge their dad’s death. A plan to kill those things.

Jeff glanced over at David. His pale face was mostly covered in dirt, except for the streaks where tears had run down his cheeks. “We’re going to be okay,” Jeff said reassuringly. He hugged his little brother and then stood. He paced over to the two rifles their dad had given them.

“Come here,” Jeff said. He grabbed the hunting rifle and checked the safety. Just like his dad had taught him.

“This one is yours,” Jeff said. “I’ll take the assault rifle.”

David looked up at him from the ground. He hadn’t spoken much in the past two days. Jeff knew the boy was beginning to slip away. He needed to find a way to reengage him. He had to if they wanted to survive. They needed to become a team. There was no other option.

“Come on, bud,” Jeff insisted.

David slowly pushed himself off the concrete floor and walked over to Jeff.

“Do you know how we can honor dad?” Jeff asked.

The younger boy shook his head.

“We can honor him by killing those things. But we have to do it together. We have to be a team.”

David’s gaze locked with his older brother’s. There was a spark in the younger boy’s eyes, something Jeff hadn’t seen since before the invasion.

Jeff smiled. “You ready to play a new game?”

David narrowed his eyebrows. “What kind of game?”

“The kind of game where we get to kill monsters.”

After several seconds of consideration, David nodded and reached for the rifle. “I’m ready,” he said pausing. “And I’m going to win.”

“You always win,” Jeff said, grinning.

CHAPTER 1

JEFF waited in the stillness with his back to the tunnel wall. The coldness of the concrete bled through his T-shirt, but he didn’t dare move.

“Where are you?” his younger brother, David, asked.

“Shhhh,” Jeff replied.

He could hear David’s hands fumbling against the wall as the boy desperately searched the darkness for him. Jeff reached out with his right hand and their fingers connected. He pulled his brother close.

Dad had been gone for three days now. Maybe longer. Jeff wasn’t sure. He’d lost track of time down here in the damp tunnels. At first they’d waited at the bottom of the staircase. They’d waited there for hours, listening to the shrieks of the spiderlike monsters long after their dad’s gunfire had silenced. Had he died up there? Jeff didn’t know. Maybe he had run. Maybe he was still alive, searching for them like they were for him. Surviving. He liked to hope.

They’d found a storeroom shortly after, but the monsters had found them, the scratch, scrape of their claws echoing in the hallways. Jeff and David had barely escaped, and their hideout was destroyed.

Now, a day later, they were hiding in a tunnel somewhere under the base. He had no idea where exactly. All he knew was that the batteries in his flashlight were almost dead, and the food in his backpack would eventually run out. They couldn’t stay here forever.

Jeff tightened his grip around David’s back. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” He was crying, sniffling, and wiping his nose on Jeff ’s arm.

“Don’t cry. They’ll hear you.”

David’s whimpering quieted.

A noise echoed in the distance. Jeff reached for the handle of his assault rifle and listened. Somewhere a leaky pipe dripped steadily. The noise was soothing. It was recognizable. Man-made.

They sat there for an hour. Then two. And then Jeff wasn’t sure how long they sat. He held his brother, listening.

When his eyelids started to feel heavy, he decided it was time to move. He stirred David, who had fallen asleep in his arms. He woke with a yawn.

“We have to go now,” Jeff whispered. “We need to find a place to hide. They’ll find us here eventually.”

“No,” David protested, gripping his brother’s arm, his nails digging into his skin.

“David, you have to be strong, we have to find a place to hide.”

The boy whimpered. “But I can’t see anything.”

“I’ll use the flashlight.”

“No,” David argued. “They’ll see the light.”

“Take your gun, David,” Jeff whispered, his voice stern. He knew his brother would feel safer with the weapon.

The sound of metal scraping across the floor made Jeff flinch, but it was only David grabbing his hunting rifle.

“Got it,” he said.

Jeff stood and helped his brother up. A tingling sensation raced up his right leg. It was completely numb, asleep from sitting in the same position for so long. He winced and waited for the pain to pass.

“Let’s move,” Jeff finally said.

Grabbing David’s hand, he pulled the boy into the darkness. They walked slowly, cautiously. Heel to toe. Every few steps he would pause, let go of David’s hand, turn on the flashlight, and sweep the beam over the hallway for a couple heartbeats before clicking it off.

Every time he waited to see one of the monsters. But every time the flashlight would reveal nothing but damp concrete.

They continued on in this fashion for hours. The hallways twisted and turned until Jeff felt like he’d entered some sort of maze.

Were they going in circles? How far did the tunnels go?

He had no idea where he was leading his brother. He didn’t even really have a plan. All he wanted to do was avoid the monsters and find another storeroom to hide in.

Jeff tried to remember what the NTC soldier who had driven them to the tunnels had said shortly before his death. Something about how there was miles and miles of tunnels beneath the surface.

The thought made Jeff pause. He loosened his grip on David’s hand, this time drawing protest. “No,” the boy said. “Let’s just stop here and rest.”

Jeff gritted his teeth, ignoring his brother. He clicked the flashlight on and shone it over the passage. It flickered. His heart kicked as the beam faded out and then in again.

“The batteries,” David whispered.

“I know.”

Jeff reached for his brother and pulled him forward. Heel to toe, growing more anxious with every step. They needed to find another storeroom before the batteries failed.

The thought of being stranded in complete darkness made Jeff want to run. But he couldn’t let himself lose control. His brother was counting on him. They had lost their dad, but they still had each other.

Somewhere in the distance a metal thud rang out. The boys froze. Jeff felt David’s grip tighten. They listened.

Another clang followed, and then a scratching noise like nails being dragged across a blackboard.

David’s fingers dug into Jeff ’s palm.

“We need to go,” the boy said.

Jeff shook his little brother’s hand. “No, be quiet.”

He listened. The sound was coming from everywhere and nowhere. If they panicked they might run right into it. He needed to know where the monsters were before he decided what to do.

With his heart galloping, he pulled his flashlight from his belt and handed it to David. Then he shouldered his rifle and gripped it just like his dad had taught him.

At the end of the passage, a faint blue light crept across the floor. It intensified and grew into a pulsating sphere of blue. Jeff aimed his rifle down the center of the tunnel when David pulled on his arm.

“Hey,” Jeff whispered, anger rushing through him. He looked away from the tunnel to see his little brother running down the hallway behind him.

“David,” Jeff said, in a voice just louder than a whisper. “Get back here!”

But David wasn’t listening and the sound of his footsteps faded as he ran farther away, down the passage they’d just come from. Jeff hesitated, turning back to the glow and then to David. His outline was fading from sight.

“Crap,” Jeff muttered. He ran after his brother as fast as he could.

David had the flashlight out, the beam crisscrossing the path in front of him as he ran. The Spiders would see it for sure.

“Turn it off!” Jeff yelled. This time his voice was louder, fueled by frustration. Behind him, he heard a Spider shriek. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he saw the blue light growing brighter. They were being followed.

“Oh no, oh no,” Jeff repeated. He wanted to cry. Up ahead, David had stopped in front of a steel metal door.

Authorized Personnel Only.

“What are you doing? Open it!” Jeff said, checking over his shoulder again. The glow now filled the entire passage.

Jeff pushed past David and tried the handle. It clicked open, just as a Spider barreled into sight.

Pushing the door, Jeff shoved his brother inside. Another terrifying screech echoed off the walls and he slammed the steel closed, locking the door and sealing the awful noise out.

David stood in the center of the room, surrounded by old boxes. “You okay?” Jeff asked. He noticed the boy’s pants were wet around the crotch, the trail extending down his right leg.

With his back to the door, Jeff scanned the room. More wooden crates and boxes lined the wall to his right. They were covered in dust so thick he couldn’t make out the labels. A yellowed map hung at an angle on the wall to the left. Finally, he thought, finally he could figure out where they were. He rushed over to the map and blew on the paper, a cloud of dust exploding in his face, causing him to sneeze.

The door shook an instant later.

“Crap,” Jeff stuttered. Reaching for David, he looked for a place to hide. There, in the far right corner, hidden behind a stack of boxes, was a flight of stairs. Jeff pulled his brother away from the door and they descended into another tunnel. He wanted to hug him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay, but the rattling of the door made it difficult to think.

David leveled the flashlight over the narrow tunnel. They ran, panting and struggling with every footstep, the flickering beam guiding them.

Please, Jeff thought, please don’t let the light go out.

He could see the end of the tunnel now. It stopped. Just a concrete wall. They had come to a dead end. Jeff felt like collapsing to the ground until he saw a skeletal ladder.

The sound of crunching metal echoed through the halls. A Spider released an enraged scream louder now than anything they’d heard before. They had made it through the locked door.

Jeff grabbed the light from David and angled it up the ladder. Rays of white moonlight bled through the holes of a circular cover at the top.

“Climb!” he shouted, boosting David onto the metal rungs.

Once his brother had started climbing, Jeff turned and unstrapped his rifle, aiming down the hallway. One of the Spiders careened toward the stairs. The creature moved quickly, its high joints clicking. When it entered the tunnel it halted, two clawed limbs swiping through the air, unable to come any closer.

“Thank god,” Jeff said. The corridor was too narrow for the alien to get through.

Jeff looked up the ladder. David was halfway up, his weapon dangling from his chest.

“Keep going!” Jeff yelled.

Another Spider joined the struggling monster in the entryway, pushing it forward through the gap. The lead Spider let out a shriek in protest, turning to snarl at its companion with open mandibles.

Jeff grabbed on to the first rung and followed David up the ladder as the Spiders continued to wedge their bodies into the passage. David was at the top now, pushing desperately against the cover. The moonlight breaking through the holes illuminated his frightened features.

“It won’t move,” the boy cried.

“Hurry,” Jeff said. He squirmed his way next to David and stretched his left leg out to brace himself. Together they pushed, heaving with all their strength. The metal cover inched upward and slowly they slid it to the side.

“Move over,” Jeff whispered. He climbed over David and poked his head out of the manhole, staring at a panoramic view of the night sky. They were on the outskirts of the base. Buildings towered to the east and the north. There were no signs of the creatures, just the ghostly moonlight and the strange blue orbs hovering in the distance.

Below them, the first Spider reached the bottom of the ladder. Jeff hoisted himself above the ground and pushed himself to his knees. Then he turned to pull David up behind him.

“Help me,” he said, gesturing toward the manhole cover. Together they pushed the metal lid back over the hole. Below, the Spiders clawed futilely up at the boys.

There was no way they would fit up the ladder. But more would be more. There were always more.

Jeff ’s heart leaped as if it were escaping his chest. He gasped for air, trying to control his breathing.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t run away like that. You have to listen to me,” Jeff panted. “We have to stay together.”

David nodded before turning to look at the desert. In a low, solemn voice he said, “Is Dad out here somewhere?”

Jeff placed his arm around his brother’s shoulder, listening to the Spiders screeching in the tunnel below their feet. “I don’t know. But if he is, we are going to find him.”

CHAPTER 2

THE school bus honked outside.

“You guys are going to be late! Mr. Andrews isn’t going to wait out there forever,” Michael yelled from the kitchen.

Jeff yawned and ran a hand through his hair one last time in an effort to straighten it into something halfway respectable. David yanked on his arm. Mornings were always chaotic when their stepmom, Paula, was away on business.

“Come on. Dad said we’re going to be late,” his brother urged.

Jeff snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Stepping into the hallway he swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door, David following close behind.

“Guys?” Michael shouted. He walked into the hallway, his metallic leg creaking. “There you are. You need to get going.” The school bus honked again. “Let’s go . . .” He gestured them toward the door, opening it and waving at Mr. Andrews.

“Hey,” Michael said, turning to face the boys. He leaned forward and put his hands on both their shoulders.

Jeff recognized the somber look in his dad’s eyes, and noticed he was wearing his NTC uniform.

“You’re going away again?”

“Just for a little while,” Michael replied.

“But you said you were going to be home all week,” David whined.

Michael sighed. “I know, but I got a call last night that I’m needed back early. Your mom will be home from her trip by the time you get home from school.”

“She’s not our mom,” Jeff said, pulling away from his dad’s grip.

“Don’t start. Please,” Michael said. He brushed a strand of hair out of Jeff ’s eyes and pulled his sagging backpack strap higher up on his shoulder.

Jeff wasn’t amused. “You always do this. You’re never home.”

Michael’s eyes fell to the floor.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Jeff said. He pushed past his dad and left David on the stoop.

“I’m sorry, Jeff. I love you, bud,” Michael yelled out.

Jeff heard him say a few words to David and then listened to his brother running down the walkway to catch up.

The bus doors hissed open and Jeff climbed the steps into the bus without looking back.

• • •

Jeff woke up. A headache had settled right behind his eyes, and he rubbed his forehead, trying to make it go away.

Faint moonlight bled through the tinted windows of the black SUV they’d found abandoned not far from the tunnels. The leather seat creaked as Jeff stirred. David was curled up next to him, his head resting on an NTC jacket someone had left behind.

Careful not to wake him, Jeff slowly scooted across the seat and checked the back window. On his side of the truck there was only desert. The dunes were brushed with moonlight, making them look like snowcapped mountains, and they stretched as far as his eyes could see.

Jeff climbed over the center divider into the front passenger seat. Buildings and towers protruded from the landscape beyond the windshield. Nothing moved.

Was everyone really gone?

He glanced back at the sleeping outline of his brother. He had a hard time believing that two kids were the only survivors on the entire base. Surely there were others out there. Maybe even their dad . . .

No. He couldn’t think like that anymore. They were on their own.

Jeff sank into the seat. His shoulders sagged as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears flowed down his face. He could remember so many times he’d been mean to his dad, so many times he’d ignored him or taken him for granted. He wished there was some sort of time machine so he could go back and fix everything.

David’s voice filled the silence. “Jeff, where are you?”

Brushing the tears from his eyes, Jeff turned. “Up here.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” Jeff spun back to face the windshield, his vision cloudy.

“Yes you are.”

Jeff watched David in the rearview mirror. The boy climbed over the center divider and said, “Scoot over.”

“No, stay put.” He ran his sleeve across his face and noticed movement inside the facility to the north.

David saw it at the same time. He extended a finger toward the windshield. “What’s that?”

“I . . .” Jeff wasn’t sure. He strained his eyes to see in the dim light. Several blue orbs floated over the concrete outside the main observation tower. The glow sent a chill through his body. Every time he saw one it reminded him of the woman inside the hovering ball back on the highway, days earlier. Maybe there were people inside all the orbs.

But there was something else there as well. Moving between the orbs, hidden by their glare. Could they be other survivors?

He reached over into the backseat and grabbed the hunting rifle.

“That’s mine,” David protested.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back. Just want to get a better look.” Jeff returned to the front seat, shouldered the weapon, and put his right eye against the scope. Squinting, he rested the rifle against the windshield and sucked in a breath, trying to keep the crosshairs steady.

“What do you see?” David urged.

“Give me a second,” Jeff said.

He sucked in another breath and steadied the gun. This time he saw the orb perfectly. Something flickered inside it, reminding him of a tadpole. Surrounding it were several Spiders. They clawed at the sides of the fragile ball, goo spilling out around them.

“Oh my god,” Jeff whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He focused on the orb again. In the blink of an eye, the ball deflated, the sides collapsed, and the human contents discharged onto the concrete. One of the Spiders tore into her, its claws sinking into shriveled flesh. The others huddled around the glistening mess and slurped up the goo. A smaller Spider thrashed behind the group, trying to get in on the feeding.

Jeff looked away.

“What did you see?” David asked.

“Nothing. Lay back down, bud. We should try and get some more sleep. I want to move when the sun comes up.”

David retreated to the backseat but Jeff stayed put. He raised the rifle to his eye again and watched the Spiders. They had finished eating and were dispersing to the north, away from the SUV.

He leaned his head back on the leather headrest. He finally felt like he could breathe, but his heart was still racing. If it weren’t for the darkness David might have seen the goose bumps covering his arms, or the tears that were still cascading down his cheeks. Jeff wiped them away and then covered his arms with the sleeves of the NTC jacket he’d found in the backseat.

It took him an hour to relax, but he knew he would never fall back asleep. He couldn’t. He had to keep watch. Besides, Jeff knew his dreams would be filled with the nightmarish creatures and alien orbs.

A sliver of crimson peeked over the sand dunes on the horizon. The sun was finally rising. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, wishing more than anything that he could go home.

CHAPTER 3

THEY’D been lucky, maneuvering through the Organics’ fleet without being spotted. When I have the time I’ll have to thank the pilot personally, Dr. Hoffman thought as he strolled through Biome 1 with Amy Carlson close on his heels.

She stumbled across the dirt with her eyes glued to her tablet. “Sir, we’ve lost all contact with ground forces. The Organics have taken down all communication networks.”

Her words didn’t take Hoffman by surprise. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken the aliens this long.

He bent down, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the pain. His back creaked as his right knee touched the soil.

“Sir,” Amy said.

Hoffman ignored her, instead reaching for a handful of dirt and letting the fine grains run through his fingers. It was an amazing thing to hold soil from Earth on a spaceship that was on a journey to Mars. In a way, it was no different from how life probably started on Earth. He had always believed that asteroids brought the first microscopic organisms to the planet, a couple billion years ago. If he was right, that meant the Organics weren’t the first aliens to reach Earth. But, like Christopher Columbus, they would probably be given credit for the discovery, Hoffman mused.

“Sir,” Amy entreated.

He let the last specks of dirt fall back to the ground and then stood. “I heard you, Miss Carlson.”

Her face reddened, matching her strawberry-colored hair. She was a beautiful woman and probably one of the last in the solar system. There would be a lot of lasts in the coming days. He only hoped his biospheres would survive.

“Have we secured the connection to our satellite?” Hoffman asked.

Amy checked her tablet and flicked through several screens. “I . . .” She squinted, a strand of long hair falling across her face. She brushed it away and said, “Yes, sir. The connection has been secured with Lolo.”

“Excellent. Then we should have access to the biospheres.” The trip to Mars was a long one. Three years if everything worked properly. Monitoring the biospheres would at least give him something to do in any downtime the trip afforded, although he already had plans to keep himself busy. There was much to be done on the journey. People were counting on him.

“Where are you going, sir?” Amy called after him.

“To the CIC. I want to know how my biospheres are doing.”

Hoffman climbed up the ladder onto the platform in Biome 1 and made his way to the command center. The distant hum of the quantum propulsion engines was a sweet and beautiful sound. Everything was working seamlessly. Even the artificial gravity drive was functioning at near-perfect levels.

“All hands, this is chief pilot Burns. We have just received the first images from Lolo. Please report to your stations for a brief report.”

Hoffman grinned. Perfect. The first pictures of the biospheres were awaiting him in the CIC.

• • •

“Where will we go?”

Jeff stuffed the flashlight and the leftover food into his backpack, ignoring his brother’s question.

“Jeff ?”

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

Exhaling a nervous breath, Jeff turned to face his brother. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything. Don’t you see? I’m just as scared as you.”

David looked away. His short brown hair was matted. The oversized NTC jacket covered him from his chin to his knees. He looked so helpless.

“I’m . . .” Jeff shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just . . .”

David crawled away from the window and hugged Jeff. “It’s okay.”

The sun had risen, and it was time to move. He hadn’t seen any of the creatures for a few hours now, and the blue orbs that had been scattered throughout the base were eaten.

Jeff studied the buildings in the distance. He remembered the three hangars north of the observation tower, but he didn’t recognize any of the facilities to the east. Then he saw the small white building with the red roof. That’s where his dad had been posted. He brightened at the familiar sight and remembered the weapons he’d seen inside before the invasion. Hopefully some would still be there.

Maybe it was the thought of his dad or maybe it was because he didn’t know where else to go, but that’s where he would take David.

“Got your rifle?”

David grabbed the stock and propped it up against his shoulder. The muzzle extended far above his head, touching the top of the truck’s roof.

“Okay, time to go,” Jeff said. He checked for Spiders one more time and then grabbed the handle of the back door.

It creaked open and the cold morning breeze brushed against him. Jeff jumped out onto the concrete and kept low next to the side of the truck. When he saw that it was still safe, he helped David out.

Together the boys walked slowly to the front bumper where Jeff peeked around the corner. The observation tower was about half a mile away, maybe a bit more. If they ran they could make it in about five minutes.

Maybe.

It was a long distance to travel in the open and Jeff hung back. He suddenly wasn’t so certain it was a good idea. What if those things were watching?

“What’s wrong?” David asked, picking up on his apprehension.

“Nothing,” Jeff lied. There were several other vehicles and a few buildings separating them from the base. Maybe they could use them for cover as they snuck through the area.

Taking a deep breath, Jeff nodded, more to himself than anyone and locked eyes with his brother. “You ready?”

“No. I don’t want to leave. Can’t we stay here?”

Jeff closed his eyes, frustrated, again. “Let’s move.” He took off running for the first Humvee about three hundred yards away. A beat later, he heard David’s footsteps. Good, Jeff thought. He had started to worry he was going to have to drag his brother across the road.

They made it to the first vehicle without being seen. Jeff rested his back against the truck’s dusty surface and waited for David to catch up. He had no idea what he was doing. Even if they could reach the guard building, then what? They were stranded on a military base, far away from civilization. And there was no one left to help them.

Sucking in a breath, he turned and poked his head over the hood. The distance between them and the towers looked farther now.

Crap, crap, he thought. What had he done? He’d left the safety of the SUV only to get him and his brother marooned out in the open.

David joined him at the front of the Humvee. “Are we staying here?”

“No,” Jeff said firmly. He dropped to his stomach and squirmed under the truck. They were smack in the middle of the main road leading into the base. A car that looked like the one Paula had driven was parked about two hundred yards away. But after that there wasn’t much cover before the other buildings.

Jeff rested his chin on the warming concrete and paused to think. There were no signs of the monsters. Maybe they hibernate during the day, he thought. The possibility was reassuring, although unlikely.

“All right,” he said, scooting out from under the vehicle. David sat with his back to the wheel well. His hunting rifle shook in his hands. Jeff doubted he would be able to use it when the time came.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Jeff said. “There’s a car not far from here. We run there first. Then if it’s clear, we run as fast as we can to that building with the red roof.”

David strained his eyes. “Is that dad’s old guard post?” He brightened at the sight.

“Yeah. You ready?”

David nodded, but he didn’t really seem to be listening. The sight of their dad’s old building transfixed him.

Jeff grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

“We can do this.” He paused and waited for David to focus. “Okay?”

A short nod.

“Let’s go.” They ran side by side, their gear clunking on their backs and their oversized weapons bobbing in their arms.

The sunlight stung Jeff ’s eyes. He squinted and kept his gaze trained on the car ahead of them. Its tinted windows looked out over the desert.

David fell behind a few seconds into the run.

“Come on!” Jeff insisted. “Don’t stop!”

Jeff slid into the sand behind the car, coming to a stop next to the bumper.

Panting, David dropped to both knees beside him. Sweat streamed down his forehead and glistened in the morning sun. He reached for the zipper to his jacket. “This thing is hot.”

“Take it off, put it in your pack,” Jeff replied. He glanced around the bumper. There was still no sign of the Spiders, but he could see the remnants of the balls now. They reminded him of deflated balloons.

Ahead, he spied the white guard building. It was one of a dozen buildings in the center of the base.

When he turned back to David, the boy was stuffing his jacket inside his pack.

“This is it. One last run, and we’ll be safe,” Jeff whispered.

David looked unsure.

“You ready?”

“One sec,” David replied. He finished jamming the jacket into his bag and then flung it back over his shoulders. Then he pushed himself up and joined Jeff by the side of the car. He looked like he was going on a long camping trip. The bloated pack stuck up from his back like a turtle shell.

A week ago, Jeff would have laughed at the sight, but he didn’t feel much like laughing now. Instead, he focused on the journey ahead. It was the longest of the three runs, and they would be completely exposed when they left the road. Anything or anyone would be able to see them. They had to move fast.

“Remember that time you walked into that beehive?” Jeff asked.

David paused to think. “Yeah . . .”

“Remember how fast you ran?”

A nod.

“That’s what I need you to do now. Run like there are bees chasing you.”

Another small nod.

“You ready?”

David smiled. “I got it.”

Jeff patted him on the shoulder. A smile was a good thing. It meant they were still alive. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 4

THE images were crap. Complete and utter crap. “We spent fifty billion dollars on this stealth satellite, and it can’t take decent pictures?” Dr. Hoffman was furious. Sitting in the CIC, he scanned the faces of his staff, and one by one they looked away.

“No one can explain this to me?” He looked for Robert Bailey, the chief engineer. The bald man sat at the far end of the oval-shaped table, his beady eyes focused on the tablet he was obviously pretending to read.

“Robert. You’re my engineer. So give me a damn report,” Hoffman barked.

The man ran a hand over his shiny head, the skin gleaming under a bank of LEDs overhead. Then he shrugged.

Hoffman attempted to maintain his self-control. He glared at the stocky engineer, wondering if his attitude would change if he threatened to shoot him out an air lock.

Hoffman continued. “I expected to have the ability to monitor the biospheres. I expected the engineers that designed Lolo to provide me with images I could actually make out.” He flicked the screen again to look at what was supposed to be the Cheyenne Mountain biosphere. He remembered Dr. Sophie Winston and her team, wondering if they’d figured out what had happened outside yet.

“I apologize, sir,” Robert said. “I will see if I can reprogram Lolo. Honestly, she should be capable of high-resolution photos.”

“I want to know what’s going on there. I need to know. If an alien ship lands on that tarmac or hovers over that mountain, I want it documented. Same goes for every biosphere. Got it?”

Robert nodded. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Repositioning his glasses, Hoffman squinted. He expected to see the blast door and the tarmac outside the tunnel leading into the mountain. But all he saw was the grainy image of a huge chunk of rock.

Hoffman sighed and turned to the chief pilot. The man looked like the typical NASA astronaut. He was chiseled, his body filling out every corner of his blue space suit. His hair was spiked into a crew cut, indicating he was ex-military.

“Good flying, Burns,” Hoffman said. “You made me nervous for a few minutes, but . . .” He paused, remembering the pilot that had almost killed Dr. Sophie Winston on her flight to Cheyenne Mountain. The poor bastard was probably dead by now. He’d given the man a hard time. A trace of regret surfaced and then vanished. He’d resolved not to dwell on the losses on Earth. The human race was destined for Mars. Their future was on the Red Planet.

“Thank you, sir,” Burns said. “Secundu Casu is one hell of a spaceship.”

Hoffman nodded, folded his arms across his chest, and turned to Amy. “Better tell everyone what you told me back in Biome 1.”

She stood and pushed in her chair. Hoffman studied her, interested to see how she would react under the pressure of such a grim report. To his satisfaction she spoke professionally and without reservation. It was the same Amy he’d hired years ago.

“We’ve lost all communication with ground forces. Every NTC facility is now off-line,” she said. “The last radio signal we intercepted was from a stealth navy destroyer. The chatter was confusing but we recorded this final transmission. She leaned forward over her chair and pressed a button on the keyboard of the center console. The PA speakers coughed static.

“This is Captain Mark Griffey of the USS Infinity, requesting support from any known vessels. Our position has been compromised. I repeat, our position has been compromised. Three unidentified spaceships are following us at the following coordinates—”

A surge of white noise filled the room for several seconds until the commander finally came back online. His voice seemed strained, like he knew exactly what fate awaited him.

“Three beams have locked onto our position. We’ve lost all power. I’m ordering all hands to abandon—”

The feed clicked off.

Amy stepped away from the table. She stood there, her eyes locking with Hoffman’s. They both knew no other words needed to be spoken. The most powerful military in the world had just been wiped out in a little over three days. The war for the planet was over, but the fight for the human species had just begun.

• • •

Jeff focused on the white building with the red roof. Nothing else mattered. That was their target. He ran as though his life depended on it, because it did depend on it. Fueled by adrenaline he grunted and pushed on. They were almost there.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see David’s backpack bobbing up and down. He was running faster than before. Maybe he really was imagining bees chasing him.

“Keep going!” Jeff insisted.

He caught a glimpse of movement to the east, but when he turned, he saw nothing but an endless sea of sand.

The road curved toward the guard building. But first they would have to pass around a half dozen or more of the ruined orbs. They scared the crap out of him. He knew each slimy mess was the remains of someone who had worked on the base.

“Jeff, what are those bags?” David asked.

“Keep moving.”

They did. Running faster now. The first orb was only a few more feet away. Jeff ran past it. Hardly glancing at the bits of gore spread like jelly across the ground.

The white sun beat down on the boys. It was still midmorning, but the dry heat was intense. The light caught something as they ran, sparkling. Jeff slowed when he saw it glisten from one of the destroyed orbs near the door.

David ran past him but Jeff reached out and stopped him, yanking on his backpack.

“Hey!” David said, panting.

Jeff took a knee and raised his rifle to look for the monsters. The base still seemed deserted, but it didn’t feel that way.

The door to his father’s guard hut was closed, and three of the ruined orbs covered the walkway to the entrance. The metallic object was halfway tucked under a flap of the shriveled blue shell, flickering in the sunlight.

Was it a weapon?

“Okay, let’s go,” Jeff said, standing. David had his rifle out now, too. The muzzle bobbed up and down as he walked. They still hadn’t fired their weapons, choosing to run and hide instead of take on any of the creatures. But Jeff knew it was only a matter of time before they were forced to stand and fight.

Clenching his teeth he walked on. He bit back the fear that was trickling through him. He had to be strong. For David. They were so close now.

Jeff cautiously navigated the orbs’ withered sides. The sour stink of rotting flesh filled the air. He choked and gagged but kept moving. He had resolved not to look at any of the contents, but the glistening metallic object beneath the orb just outside the door had piqued his curiosity. If it were a pulse rifle then he would gladly borrow the gun. The previous user no longer needed it.

Another footstep and Jeff froze. This was no rifle. It was not a weapon at all. It looked like a . . .

Jeff nearly dropped his gun on the ground, a cry escaping his lips. His dad had survived long enough to run back to his guard hut. But that was as far as he’d made it. Jeff held his little brother there, trying to cover his eyes and keep him from seeing their dad’s robotic leg. That was all that was left of him now, an expensive chunk of metal.

“What’s wrong?” David asked. The boy took a few steps forward but Jeff turned and blocked his view.

“Close your eyes,” Jeff said.

“What?” the boy protested, squirming to look around Jeff.

“David, please. Close. Your. Eyes.” He reached out and grabbed the boy by the hand.

A tear rolled freely down Jeff ’s face.

Jeff wanted to drop to his knees—he wanted to collapse and just give up. And if it weren’t for a high-pitched shriek in the distance he probably would have. The sound pulsated through the base.

David struggled out of Jeff ’s grip. “They found us!” he yelled, stumbling around Jeff.

Before Jeff could respond, David screamed again. A chill ran down Jeff ’s entire body.

Fueled by adrenaline, he shouldered his rifle and scoped the eastern edges of the base. Sure enough, four of the high-jointed Spiders were scampering across the desert.

David wailed behind him. “They’re going to get us! They’re going to kill us!”

Jeff pulled away from the scope and ran, grabbing David by the collar and pulling him toward the guard building.

“Be quiet. Please. You have to be quiet,” Jeff whispered.

But David continued to cry. He was hyperventilating, the whimpers turning into snorts as he struggled to breathe. Jeff propped the hysterical boy against the side of the building and then reached for the door handle.

The door clicked open and Jeff entered with his assault rifle drawn. Sunlight spilled into the office. The room was clear.

“Come on!”

Jeff yanked David inside and went to swing the door shut when he heard the crack of gunfire. Peeking through the gap he watched the Spiders suddenly change course. They moved away from the road and into the sand as pulse rounds tore up the concrete.

Holding his breath, Jeff finally shut the door.

• • •

Dr. Hoffman licked his dry lips as he stared through the single porthole window in his small office. The view was breathtaking. Nothing but infinite space lay beyond the glass. There were more stars than grains of sand on Earth, and they all seemed to flicker in front of him.

Since he was a child, Hoffman was fascinated with the solar system and everything beyond. At an early age he’d been captivated by questions about the creation of the universe.

The Big Bang was the explanation most scientists accepted. But what happened before that? What created the Big Bang? And for those God-fearing people like Amy Carlson he would ask another question: Who created God? In some ways, religion and science were very similar. They both required faith and a belief in the unknown.

He believed that the Organics weren’t coming back to the Red Planet. That humanity would have a chance to start over there. There was evidence that implied they had already removed all surface water from the planet and moved on, traveling through the solar system and beyond before coming to Earth. But a part of him wasn’t sure if he was right. He was operating on faith.

The chirp from the display on his monitor pulled him from his thoughts. A message was coming through. He swiped the monitor.

Robert Bailey’s chubby face emerged on the display. His forehead glistened with sweat. “Sir,” the man said, “Lolo has captured some images of Edwards Air Force Base in California. I think you need to see them.”

“Patch them through,” Hoffman replied.

Robert nodded and the transmission ended. Seconds later the display filled with hundreds of tiny images. Hoffman enlarged the first one and the desert landscape that surrounded Edwards Air Force Base spilled across the screen. He moved to the next picture. The first few images were of the flight control tower, dozens of hangars, and the tarmac. He moved through them quickly until he found the four-tier barbed wire fence that surrounded the abandoned missile silo where they’d built the biosphere under the base. He could see only the western edge, and quickly flicked to the next image.

Hovering over the facility was a large black ship. A mass of blue, spiderlike creatures disappeared into one of the hidden entrances to the biosphere.

“How . . .” Hoffman mumbled, squinting in pure awe. “How did they find it?”

He flinched at a rap on his door and grunted. “It’s open.”

The smell of Amy’s perfume filled the room. Hoffman didn’t look up from the screen. The next frame revealed more aliens. He couldn’t believe his eyes. If they found Edwards, then they could find the other biospheres. He’d hand-selected each facility and the one at the air force base was supposed to be the most secure.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Have you seen these, Amy?”

She strolled over to his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yes. I’m sorry, Doctor.”

Hoffman sat back in his chair, shaking his head. He simply didn’t understand. How could the aliens have found the biospheres? Could they detect life? Could they sense there were people hiding there?

“Tell Robert I want a visual from every biosphere on the planet. I want updates on the hour. If more have been compromised I want to know the moment it happens.”

Amy removed her hand. “Understood, sir.”

“Oh, and Amy.”

She glanced down at him.

“Tell Burns I want him on the alert for alien ships. If they can find the biospheres, then they can find us.”

After she left, Hoffman turned back to the monitor and skipped to the last image. The shot showed the sloped hill on the backside of the buried silo, where several old storm drains jetted out of the ground. Someone or something was sliding down the hill. He zoomed in for a better look.

“My god,” he said, staring at the frozen shot of a soldier in a black NTC armored suit. A member of the team had escaped out the backside of the biosphere. Hoffman felt a deep dread tugging at his gut. Had he underestimated the Organics?

CHAPTER 5

JEFF and David huddled next to each other until dark. They didn’t sleep. They didn’t eat, and they only drank enough water to keep their throats from going dry.

The gunfire had stopped minutes after the boys had pushed a desk and chair against the door, but neither of them was brave enough to see if the coast was clear.

Wiping the salty tears away with his forearm Jeff finally forced himself off the floor. The time for self-pity was over. He was tired of being scared, and tired of feeling helpless. His dad was gone, and so was everyone he’d ever known, but he couldn’t cry anymore. If this was what the world had become, then he wasn’t going to be some baby hiding in a shed.

He was going to get revenge. His dad would want him to be strong.

Jeff swept the beam of his flashlight over the row of lockers that hung at the back of the building. Several of the metal doors were open, and he rummaged inside. The first one was empty and he continued to the second, swinging it open and feeling for a pulse rifle or pistol or anything.

Nothing.

The soldiers must have taken all the rifles when the ships showed up, Jeff thought.

He shone the light inside the locker, illuminating six grenades. Only, they didn’t look like the kind he saw in the movies. He pulled one out. It didn’t have a pin. Instead, a small button at the top looked like it activated the weapon. Holding the small gray cylinder under the flashlight, he read the label out loud.

“EMP.”

Electromagnetic pulse, he thought to himself. He’d heard of them before. They’d used bigger versions in China years ago. He stuffed the grenade in a bag and zipped it up, continuing to the next locker.

By the time Jeff was done scavenging, he had twenty-four grenades and a pulse pistol. He’d also snagged more MREs and a jar of energy pills labeled Jacked. He popped one of them into his mouth and took a swig of water.

An hour later Jeff felt like he could take on an entire pack of Spiders. He organized their gear and woke David, who had finally fallen asleep. “Time to eat, bud.”

David wiped the sleep from his eyes and snarled, “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“Leave me alone,” David growled.

He curled back up on the ground and Jeff shook him.

“Hey!”

Bringing a finger to his lips Jeff said, “Keep it down. And sit up.” He handed the boy a granola bar and then tore off the end of his own. He chewed quickly and gulped the nutrients down. If they were going to fight, they needed energy.

David took a small bite and then tossed the bar on the ground. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Jeff reached out and grabbed his arm. “No, David. You aren’t. Because we’re leaving soon.”

“What? No! I want to stay here.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to fight.”

Silence.

David looked up from his lap. “But those things will kill us.”

“Maybe,” Jeff replied. “But they’re going to kill us if we stay here, too.”

“No. They won’t find us here. We can stay here, Jeff. Please, let’s stay here.”

“Remember what I told you before in the storage room? About how we can honor dad?”

A short nod.

“All we’ve done since then is run. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of running. I say we fight.”

David shook his head back and forth.

“Fine. You can stay here. I’m going to the highest building I can find and I’m going to wait until those things come. Then I’m going to shoot them. And I’m going to kill ’em.”

“No!” David protested. “You can’t leave me here.”

“Then come with me.”

David let out a whimper and looked like he was going to start crying again. Then he reached for the granola bar. He stared at the wrapper and then jammed it into his mouth. Chewing with his mouth open he said, “Do you think we can really kill those things?”

Jeff nodded, although he wasn’t sure exactly. All he really knew was that they had to try or eventually the monsters would kill them.

After swallowing the final bite David said, “So what are we going to do?”

“Climb onto the building where they keep the spaceships. It has a good view of the entire base. Then I’m going to use an electromagnetic grenade to lure the Spiders in. When they’re in range we’ll shoot them.”

David stared back with an incredulous look on his face. “I don’t know . . .”

“Just trust me.”

“Okay.”

Two hours later, the sun had set, and the two boys slipped outside. It was dark now, but the moonlight was enough to guide them.

When they reached the observation tower, they ran for the hangars that housed the impressive NTC spaceships Jeff had seen on previous visits. The largest hangar was his target. That’s where he was going to set up the trap.

He paused at the edge of the building, peeking around the corner at the wide set of doors. They were slightly ajar at the middle. He listened for any sound of the aliens but heard nothing.

They proceeded through the doors. Holding his breath, Jeff braced himself as he flicked on the flashlight. The beam revealed an empty hangar. No spaceships, no humans, and no monsters.

Jeff slid the doors closed behind them.

In the center of the room sat metal tables. Monitors and abandoned hardware littered their surfaces. He walked over to them.

Crouching, Jeff found boxes full of gas masks and body armor. He knew right away the suits wouldn’t fit either of them. Instead, he reached for one of the masks and slipped it over his face. The smell of plastic filled his nostrils, but he didn’t remove it. For some reason it made him feel safe. Invisible even. As though the aliens wouldn’t be able to see him in it.

“Here,” Jeff said, handing one of them to his brother. “Put this on.”

As they prepared to move out, Jeff ’s light uncovered an open hatch a few feet away. Taking a knee he pointed the beam inside. A ladder extended into the darkness and he could see a tunnel at the bottom. Good, he thought, this can be our escape route. David stood behind Jeff and peered over his shoulder.

“Can’t we just go down there instead?”

Jeff grunted his response.

They moved to a staircase. The steps led to a small office that overlooked the hangar floor. Inside, another ladder led to a hatch in the ceiling. Jeff opened it. Moonlight hit him.

“Let’s go,” he said. The boys climbed onto the roof and walked across the metal surface.

“I’m scared,” David whispered, his voice muffled by the breathing apparatus.

“Me too.”

He guided his little brother to the north edge of the rooftop and set down their bags. The combination of adrenaline and energy from the pill made his heart race. It felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest.

When they’d set up their gear and weapons, Jeff reached for the bag of grenades. He wanted to get started as soon as possible, knowing that his courage wouldn’t last all night.

“You ready, David?”

He shook his head just as Jeff expected him to. “If things get bad we retreat into the building and into that tunnel.”

“Okay.”

He reached for his brother’s hand and then pulled him into a strong hug. “I love you, David. Dad would be proud of us.”

“I love you, too.”

As soon as they pulled away, Jeff reached inside the bag, pushed the button on the grenade, and tossed it as far as he could into the desert.

• • •

Twenty biospheres in four days. Hoffman couldn’t believe the situation report. Each image showed the same type of black ship hovering over a buried biosphere, blue spiders swarming into an opening they’d made. He felt completely defeated. The Easter eggs he’d left for humanity were failing. One by one.

Hoffman had sealed himself in his quarters and was staring through the porthole window. Every time his monitor chirped, he feared the worst. That another biosphere had gone off-line. The thought filled him with overwhelming dread. He’d known all along that the military wouldn’t be able to stop the Organics. But he’d hoped his biospheres would be safe. He’d put so much work into finding the perfect locations and filling the buried bunkers with the most capable men and woman the human race had to offer.

And in the end, the aliens had found them. Soon there wouldn’t be anyone left. It was an odd feeling, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t help anyone back on Earth. Sure, the submarine under the command of Captain Rick Noble was monitoring the biospheres, but there was little that man could do for any of them. By now the captain probably knew the truth. That humanity’s days were numbered. The doomsday clock was ticking.

Hoffman wondered exactly what was going through Noble’s head. He was a strong man, the son of a navy commander Hoffman had known personally. He remembered how paranoid the man had been in the years before his death, always talking about the apocalypse.

Had Commander Noble known what Hoffman now knew?

Sighing, he pushed the thoughts away. There wasn’t anything he could do about Earth now besides sit back and watch all his plans fail. He had to look to the future.

Hoffman relaxed in his chair. Punching in a few commands, he loaded the confidential NTC database filled with images of the Mars colony.

Clusters of white-domed buildings peppered the alien landscape. Beyond the facilities there were massive cylinders. The terraformers, he thought with a half smile. They would be fully functioning by now, slowly making the planet hospitable to human life. He filtered through the pictures, stopping on the farm of solar panels and then the silos where robots were already storing and preserving the first batches of crops.

By the time Hoffman’s and the other ships arrived, the colony would be fully prepared for the human race. There would be food, power, and most important, oxygen.

A message from Robert rolled across the top of the screen. Hoffman read it aloud. “Biosphere 21 has gone off-line. Will transfer images shortly.”

Hoffman replied with his own message. “Don’t bother.”

There was no response. Flicking off the screen, Hoffman walked back over to the window. The dread he had felt earlier had vanished. It was replaced with hope. The fight for Earth may have been lost and the biospheres a failure, but the view of space reminded Hoffman that the future of the human race was on Mars. And that’s all that mattered.

CHAPTER 6

A PACK of Spiders came rushing out of the desert to the east. Jeff counted six of them. Their bodies cast an eerie blue glow over the sand as they moved toward the base.

“Jeff . . .” David said. “I’m scared.”

“Concentrate. Aim like dad taught you.”

Jeff followed his own advice and lined the crosshairs of his rifle on the pack of approaching Spiders. They skittered past the guard tower and onto the roadway that curved onto the base.

The monsters were so fast, the high joints in their legs allowing long strides.

“Get ready,” Jeff said. His heart was thumping so hard now that he could hear it. He took a deep breath and waited.

Shrieks filled the night as the Spiders fanned out.

“Crap,” Jeff muttered. He thought of his dad and fired off the first shot.

The weapon hammered back into his shoulder. He let out a cry and then refocused. The round had gone wide, missing the intended Spider that was now rushing toward the hangar.

He fired again.

The bullet chipped the pavement, leaving a dent in it. The creature halted, pawing the air with its front claws. Mandibles opened and more of the high-pitched sounds filled the night.

“Shoot, David! Now! ”

The boy did as he was told. The hunting rifle cracked and put David on his ass. But the bullet hit one of the Spiders. Jeff watched in horror as a blue shield pulsated around the monster.

“Crap. Crap, crap!” he shouted. Then he fired again. Every round bounced off and tore into the surrounding concrete.

Jeff pulled off his mask, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what to do. He’d doomed himself and David. The Spiders couldn’t be killed. They had freaking shields!

Frantic, he reached for the bag of grenades and pulled out another. It was his last hope. Without hesitation, he pushed the button and launched the grenade from the rooftop.

Then, he pulled himself up and waited for the invisible blast. What came next sent a thrill through his body that made the Jacked pill he’d taken earlier seem like a piece of candy.

The closest three Spiders instantly dropped to the ground, shrieking, their legs thrashing madly at the air.

Jeff joined David at his position and together they watched the other three Spiders crash into the side of a building.

“Shoot them! Shoot them now!” Jeff said. He positioned his rifle on the ledge and opened fire. The bullets tore into the lead Spider’s unprotected flesh. Blue mist burst into the air, peppering the concrete with goo.

He moved on to the next Spider and continued firing.

Seconds later, the last creature groaned and died.

Panting, the two boys glanced over the rooftop at the mess below in awe. “We did it,” Jeff said, his words slow but confident.

“Wow,” David said. He rubbed his shoulder. “This thing hurts when you shoot it.”

Jeff laughed.

They continued to look down at the alien corpses with morbid fascination. Jeff felt satisfied, like he’d just passed the most important test of his life.

“Would dad be proud of us?” David asked.

Jeff hugged his little brother and said, “Yes, bud. Dad would be proud.”

• • •

Jeff couldn’t remember how long they’d been at White Sands. The days and nights continued to tick by, and somehow they continued to survive. Had they been out here five days now? Six days?

He shook his head and pulled up his gas mask for another bite of granola bar. It was the last one he had in his bag. There were still MREs left, but judging by the package, they weren’t going to taste that great. But, what the heck?

He had already torn into the side of the package with his knife when he heard voices. David heard them, too. The boy jumped to his feet and grabbed the ladder to the open hatch. They climbed onto the roof of the hangar and sprinted to the west wall.

Could they really be voices? After all this time?

When they reached the ledge Jeff saw something that he wasn’t sure he would ever see again. Human beings. Two live human beings.

Jeff wanted to jump and shout and scream, but instead he ducked down, out of sight. He reached up and pulled David down with him.

“They could be bad people,” Jeff said.

“But . . .” David started to say. He nodded. “Okay.”

Peeking over the side, Jeff watched one of the soldiers walk into the hangar. Raising a finger to his mask, Jeff said, “Shhhh.” The sound came out muffled and deep.

The boys walked back to the ladder and quietly made their way down into the office. Jeff watched the soldier drop to their knees in the center of the room and let out a wail. “No!”

Waving his brother forward, the boys raced down the staircase to the bottom floor with their rifles drawn. They cautiously approached the person in black body armor. Stepping into the light Jeff caught the soldier’s eyes through their visor. Tears fell down her face.

Jeff turned to David, unsure of what to say. But deep down he knew they were finally leaving White Sands—that they were finally going somewhere safe.

About the Author

Nicholas Sansbury Smith is the author of several post-apocalyptic books and short stories. He worked for the State of Iowa for nearly ten years before switching careers to focus on his one true passion—writing. When he isn’t daydreaming about the apocalypse he’s likely racing in triathlons around the Midwest. He lives in Des Moines, Iowa with his family and several rescued animals. For more information, visit him at NicholasSansbury.com.

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ALSO BY NICHOLAS SANSBURY SMITH

ORBS SERIES

Orbs

Orbs II: Stranded

Orbs III: Redemption

Solar Storms

White Sands

Red Sands

THE TISAIAN CHRONICLES

The Biomass Revolution

Squad 19

A Royal Knight

THE EXTINCTION CYCLE SERIES

Extinction Horizon

Extinction Edge

Extinction Age

Author Q&A

So, first of all: aliens! Orbs has a classic alien invasion plot, but you’ve managed to make it feel completely fresh. What drew you to this idea and to the world of science fiction?

The idea for Orbs came to me at a very unusual time. I was vacationing in Mexico and stumbled upon a section of our resort that was cordoned off for a wedding. There were these brilliant blue balls set up across the lawn on thin stilts. At first glance, the orbs looked like they were hovering. I took a few pictures and continued to the beach, not thinking much of it.

A few days later I was outlining a story and had finished most of the world building: the biosphere, abandoned city of Colorado Springs, the alien invasion. But, I knew I was missing an important part. Where had all the people and animals gone? I didn’t want to follow the traditional abduction plot or have a bunch of green aliens running around with ray guns.

I thought back to those captivating orbs I’d discovered a few nights before. Could I turn them into something equally as terrifying as they were beautiful?

That’s essentially how Orbswas born.

Looking back over my life, I think I was always meant to write science fiction. As a kid, I never believed my parents when they told me monsters weren’t real, and I’ve never doubted that aliens exist. I grew up obsessed with the Doom universe and, eventually, Halo and Gears of War. I wanted to write a story that made others feel the same way I felt after spending hours in these surreal universes. Like any other storyteller, I wanted my readers to live and breathe the world I’d created. In my opinion, there is no better escape than a good science fiction adventure.

You started out as a very successful self-published author and decided to move to a more traditional house. Can you tell us a little bit about your publishing journey and why you decided to come to Simon451?

I owe much of my success as an indie author to the research I did before self-publishing Orbs. I spent months studying and following the trends in the genre. This meant that I had to dedicate time to marketing and other tasks that took away from my writing. Independent publishing is an oxymoron, really. Indies have to build a team to help them. That team consists of artists, editors, proofreaders, reviewers, beta readers, etc. It’s a lot of work to bring all those people together! I wanted to focus more on my stories and after talking with Brit Hvide, my editor at Simon451, I knew it was the right home for me.

Focusing on my writing also meansbetter writing. My agent, David Fugate, said I’d be going to writing “boot camp.” I’m not sure I would go that far, but Brit has absolutely helped me improve my storytelling skills. I feel lucky to be where I am, and I’m excited to see where this journey will take my stories.

Alexia, an artificially intelligent being, is the only character whose narrative is in the first person. Everyone else’s narrative is in third person. Why did you make that choice, and what were the challenges of each perspective?

Ah, what a great question. A lot of people have asked why I did this. Early on, I knew Alexia’s personality had to “evolve.” As an artificially intelligent being, her character was the most challenging, and I didn’t want her to seem too . . . robotic.

Writing Alexia’s narrative in the first person allowed me to get into her head in a way that’s difficult to achieve with third person. As the story continues in Orbs II and Orbs III, I think the reader will better see why I chose this route.

On the other hand, using third person allowed me to have lots of supporting characters that helped develop my post-apocalyptic world. I think that’s important in an end-of-the-world thriller. Focusing on multiple characters and showing how each of them deals with the stress and terror of the world collapsing around them pulls the reader into the story. They get to experience a variety of emotions and experiences from multiple points of view.

With Alexia’s first-person, the reader gets a unique view into this oversized fishbowl. Orbs II and Orbs III will focus even more on her evolution.

Who are some of your writing heroes and why?

Man, this is always the hardest question because there are so many.

Joe Haldeman is always the first author that comes to mind. I’ve dragged his novel The Forever War around the world with me. The first time I read it, I was camping on an island in remote Canada. That entire week I was absolutely enthralled with the story and lived in that world. Mr. Haldeman has a gift for storytelling that is so very rare.

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot of Hugh Howey. His imagination and ability to stay ahead of trends is impressive and inspirational. I’ve lost a lot of sleep thinking about the world of Wooland Sand. But he isn’t just a writing hero because of his stories. He’s a friend to authors and a powerful voice in the changing publishing environment. He’s kind of the author with the red cape. If publishing has a superhero, Mr. Howey is that hero.

Lastly, I have to mention Rick Yancey. The Fifth Wave blew my mind in a way that brought me back to the stories that defined my childhood. His writing contains a wit and an intelligence that pulled me into that story more than any other I’ve read in the past couple years.

You work full time as a writer. What is your writing routine like?

My writing routine has become a great source of humor among my friends. Why? Because as much as I thought I could write from home, that simply hasn’t happened. I spend almost all of my time at the library or in coffee shops around my area. The baristas at Caribou Coffee and Smokey Row know I drink double espressos and have a weakness for milk chocolate.

My routine starts in the morning. Just like a pre-workout stretch, I like to begin the day with reading. It gets the creative juices flowing. Then, I jump right into writing or editing. I take a break in the afternoon to train for triathlons, and then I start where I left off and work until dinner. If I have a deadline or feel overly creative, I work at night. There’s something romantic about writing when it’s dark.

The beauty of writing is that you can work whenever you want. The downside is that you can work whenever you want. I’ve always been a motivated person, and fortunately my transition to full-time writing has been great. Triathlon training helped me build a stronger work ethic, and I’m used to working extremely long days.

The odd part of writing is that I don’t feel like I’m working. I’ve been writing full-time for about six months and it almost feels like a really long vacation. If everyone loved their job as much as I do, then I’m convinced we would live in a world of peace.

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