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.
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.
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.