Orbs (6 page)

CHAPTER 7

T
HE
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.”