“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.”