Orbs (9 page)

“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

S
ENSORS
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.