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.