White Sands (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

C
UT
to the chase, Miss Carlson,” Dr. Hoffman grumbled. He looked out the tinted window and caught the gaze of a young boy staring at his convoy as it sped by.

“Sir, preliminary data suggests the Organics will make landfall in less than three hours. HQ is telling us to get the hell out.”

Dr. Hoffman didn’t flinch. He’d known it was coming for years now. Ever since scientists discovered the drone, Eve, he had been preparing. He had several pet projects that were assigned the highest level of confidentiality. The first were the biospheres he’d constructed across the world—advanced vaults that would ensure humanity’s continued survival during and after the invasion. His favorite project was the prototype spaceship,
Secundu Casu
, which he had overseen from start to finish. There were other ships as well, prototypes like the
Sun Spot
and the
Van Allen
. And of course, there was the colony on Mars. With the cards on the table, his bets looked pretty good. He’d spread his projects out over the Earth leaving humanity outs if one project failed.

He glanced down at his watch. The advance team of robots he sent up years ago would be finishing up the Mars facility just in time for the arrival of the first colonists.

It was all part of his master plan.

The look on Amy Carlson’s face, however, reminded him that the clock was ticking. They were running out of time to implement this bold plan.

Amy was bright red, a deep panic engraved in her features. Dr.
Hoffman had never seen her like this before. She was only thirty years old. Young for an NTC vice president. But, he’d chosen her because she was a straight shooter, knew how to handle herself in dicey situations, and was respected by his other advisors.

He couldn’t really blame her for her anxiety. She was leaving behind everyone she loved for a chance at survival on another planet. Her loyalty to NTC was unwavering, but even Dr. Hoffman knew there were limits to what his employees were willing to give.

“Sir, more intel coming in over the net.” Amy paused to push her headset closer to her ear. “Jesus, sir,” she said, staring at him. “Satellite imagery has picked up the first images of the alien fleet.”

Dr. Hoffman felt a thrill run through his body. The sensation was something between excitement and pure fear. He’d been waiting for years to hear those exact words—words he always knew would come, but not this fast.

“How many?” he finally asked.

Amy maneuvered herself in her plush leather seat and crossed her legs, bringing the tablet to rest on her lap. With a quick flick of her index finger the screen glowed to life and a hologram warmed the backseat with an orange glow.

Dr. Hoffman leaned in and removed his glasses. “My god,” he said. At first glance, it was difficult to see the ships against the backdrop of space, but with a flick, Amy had added a new overlay, illuminating all of the crafts.

Hundreds.

No.

Thousands
.

All heading straight for Earth.

Dr. Hoffman pulled away from the image and tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Floor it, son! We don’t have much time.”

Michael stuffed Jeff’s birthday present into his backpack, throwing the bag around his shoulders as he checked the clock one more time. Five minutes until his shift was over. He’d already changed out of his
uniform, and he hoped his replacement would arrive early.

Outside the small bunker, the sun was hovering high in the afternoon sky. A glare reflected off the sleek black spaceship that had landed moments earlier. A crew of NTC workers was already swarming the ship, inspecting every nook and cranny.

It had to be a new model. The ship was four stories tall, double the size of the other NTC prototypes, and the wings were twice as long. He estimated the wingspan in his head.

Holy shit
.

They had to be over one hundred meters.

Michael stood there marveling at the craft. Besides a small strip of quartz glass near the cockpit, the ship was completely windowless. The black craft was speckled with hundreds of small hatches that would open once the ship was in space, deploying solar panels to help power the life-support systems.

The blare from a car horn startled him as he turned away from the spaceport. Speeding toward him was a convoy of black trucks. He took a step back from the blacktop to watch them pass.

The armada of NTC vehicles didn’t even slow down as they passed the front of his bunker, where his replacement, Jimmy, had just reported to duty.

“Want to explain what this is all about?” Jimmy asked. “I don’t see ten NTC trucks on the registry,” he said sourly.

Michael looked at the younger guard. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Jimmy was, but judging by his lack of facial hair, Michael guessed twenty-two was about right.

“Blair said they were restricting access to the base. Something’s going down,” Michael replied.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes and watched the black trucks park behind one of the massive hangers. “Is that?” he asked, pointing.

Michael followed Jimmy’s fingers to the crew climbing out of the trucks. In the middle was a man Michael had only seen on TV. Even from a distance, Michael could tell it was the CEO of NTC. The man was a legend, his face plastered across every screen in the world. He was also old. A living fossil and a rarity for a company controlled mostly by
the youngest and brightest minds in the world.

“Looks like Dr. Hoffman to me,” Michael said.

“Why the hell would he be here?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m not sticking around to find out. My family is at the civilian barracks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold down the fort,” Jimmy said with a slight grin.

Michael nodded but didn’t turn to watch him retreat into the bunker. He was too busy trying to read the letters on the belly of the monstrous black spaceship in front of Hangar 1.

SECUNDU CASU.

Michael pulled his NTC pickup onto the curb and heard the sand crunch under the oversized tires. The parking lot for Building 33 was completely full. When Blair had told him they were redirecting visitors, he had no idea there would be so many. But then again, it was Memorial Day weekend and many other families were probably visiting soldiers and scientists working at the spaceport.

He slammed the car door behind him and shifted his backpack higher on his shoulders, making his way down the sidewalk toward his apartment. He walked with haste, knowing they had only a couple hours of sunlight left to get to the shooting range, something he had promised Jeff days before.

Paula wasn’t going to be happy, but it was Jeff’s birthday and the kid deserved to have some fun. Michael knew that his job put additional strain on the boys, and their annual trip was his way of making up for his absence at home.

Michael smiled as he entered the building and made his way down the carpeted halls. A caustic smell immediately filled his nostrils. For the first time in his career he would have preferred the plastic of his helmet. Whatever some family was cooking smelled like burnt rubber.

He held his breath until he got to his door and with a smile he turned the handle and walked into his room. “Happy birthday!” he yelled, dropping his pack to the ground.

Jeff and David rushed over, nearly knocking him over with hugs.

“Hey guys!” Michael said, patting David’s mop of brown hair. The child looked up at him with a frown. “My tablet broke.”

“Sorry buddy,” Michael said. He looked for his wife and found her sitting on the couch in the darkness. “Honey, you got a kiss for me?”

She rose and slowly paced over to the three of them. With her hands on her hips she said, “Something weird is going on. I don’t like it, Michael. I don’t know if it’s safe to be here.”

Michael sighed and hugged the boys one more time before grabbing his pack and joining her in the living room. Placing a hand on her shoulder he caught her gaze and said, “You’re right, something is going on. The big dogs are here from NTC, and there’s a new ship in the hangar. But there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Can we see it?” David beamed.

“I don’t think so, bud, but I do have something else planned.”

David looked up at him. “I get to go shooting?”

Michael shot a glare at Jeff. The boy wasn’t supposed to tell his younger brother, but he wasn’t surprised that Jeff had. Even at thirty-five Michael could still remember how hard it was to keep a secret as a kid.

“Sorry,” Jeff shrugged.

Michael glanced over at Paula. “We don’t have much time if we want to do this today. So why don’t you boys go grab a snack from the fridge while I talk to your mom for a second.” He shooed the boys away and grabbed Paula’s hand.

“I’m sorry about getting redirected. I honestly have no idea what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will be okay.”

Paula pulled a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and nodded. “I missed you,” she said, leaning in for a kiss.

“Missed you too,” he said before their lips touched.

“Gross,” Jeff said from the kitchen.

Michael laughed. “Bud, why don’t you check my pack, there’s something in there for you.”

The boy smiled and rushed over to the living room, tearing into the present while David watched from the couch.

Slowly Jeff revealed the shiny metal of a hunting rifle. The weapon
was half the boy’s size. A relic from the past that had been passed down through Michael’s family for several generations. It was, in Michael’s opinion, the best way to train a kid to shoot. The weapon had a kick, unlike the newly issued pulse rifles. Besides, Michael couldn’t afford to buy one of the new weapons for Jeff.

“Do I get to shoot it too?” David chirped.

“No!” “Maybe.” Paula and Michael replied simultaneously. They exchanged looks and then laughed.

“We better get going,” Michael said, planting a kiss on Paula’s cheek. “Grab my pack guys,” he said.

Michael felt Paula tighten her grip on his hand. He glanced over at her. Her features had changed. Her eyes were darker. Frightened.

“Promise me everything is going to be okay,” she said.

Michael felt Jeff nudge him with the backpack, and he reached down to grab it from the boy before answering. “I promise.”

But as Michael guided his kids into the hallway, he felt a sharp pain in his gut—the same sinking feeling he had right before the battle that cost him his leg.

CHAPTER 4

D
R.
Hoffman clenched his fist. It was rare for him to feel frustrated. He wasn’t an irritable man. But over the past few hours he felt himself losing control of his fate and that of the human race. As CEO of the most powerful company in the world he was almost always in control. Today was different. Today, his plans had gone astray. Today, he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it off the damned planet.

“Get the quantum propulsion engines ready,” he snarled.

“Sir, I told you weeks ago. They aren’t
ready
yet. We’ve only tested them twice,” Robert Bailey, his chief engineer, argued. The bald man stared back at Dr. Hoffman from behind an oval pair of glasses that accentuated his beady little eyes.

Hoffman scrunched his eyebrows together. “I’m going to be very clear right now, Robert. If you want a seat on
Secundu Casu,
then you are going to listen to everything I say. Got that?”

The middle-aged engineer nodded and stiffened.

“You are going to fire up the engines, do a very quick systems check, and then we are going to give our pilots the green light to get us the hell off this rock.”

“Yes, sir,” Robert replied before turning to sprint back down a metal ramp leading into the bowels of the ship.

Dr. Hoffman continued through
Secundu Casu
with Amy close on his heels. “Sir, more info is coming in from the East Coast. The air force, navy . . . everyone. They’re scrambling, sending out all aircraft, warships, and submarines in response.”

Hoffman stopped to overlook Biome 1, wondering what it would look like when the dirt had been overtaken by lush crops.
The artificial gravitational drive better work
, he thought, before turning to Amy.

“Sir?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Dr. Hoffman recognized the mannerism. Amy’s nerves were getting worse. Rightfully so. Everyone was nervous.
He
was nervous. But nothing he could do or say would help the US military or any military prevent the inevitable. The Organics were coming and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them.

Now, he was at peace with his decision to place biospheres across the world and leave some strategic NTC assets in place to monitor them. If he had informed the government years ago of the Organics’ imminent arrival, they would have wasted his time trying to find a way to fight back. There was no way to fight back. The magnetic technology Hoffman had researched years ago now seemed like nothing more than a futile attempt to piss the aliens off. He was an old man, and with his age he’d learned that poking a hornet’s nest was never a good idea. Especially when you didn’t know if you could win.

All they could do was run, hide, and hope the Organics wouldn’t chase what was left of the human race to Mars. Dr. Hoffman suspected they would be safe there. The Organics had already turned the planet into a desolate wasteland—he didn’t see any reason for them to go back.

The white glow of the sun guided Michael’s NTC pickup through the desert like a beacon. The lightly used trail was almost invisible after last week’s dust storm. Fortunately, he had the coordinates saved in his handheld GPS.
Modern technology at its best.

The thought reminded him that he still had his NTC radio clipped to his belt. He glanced down nervously at it. Michael was still waiting for a message from Blair, telling him to hightail it back to the base, but until that message came, he was spending time with his boys. Chances were high that the extra security precautions were simply due to Dr. Hoffman’s visit.

Through the rearview mirror, he watched Jeff’s and David’s heads
bobbing up and down as the truck traveled down the rough path. “How’s school going guys? Your mom says you’re both doing pretty well.”

Jeff looked out the back window. “Paula never stops bugging me about my homework. She’s annoying.”

Michael gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, sensing an argument brewing. Hopefully he could get them to the shooting range before one broke out. “That’s her job. She is your mom.”

“She’s not our mom,” Jeff replied quickly.

Nope
, Michael mused,
too late
. An argument had already reared its ugly head.

“She is your mom, maybe not your biological mom, but she’s done a pretty good job, hasn’t she?” Michael asked.

“No,” Jeff replied.

Michael shook his head. A few hundred feet away he could see the makeshift shooting range.
Perfect timing
, he thought. Exhaling a long breath.

“We’re here,” he said, deciding against further argument. It was, after all, the kid’s birthday.

A gust of wind struck Michael in the face as soon as he opened the door. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the mixture of sweat and sand off his red cheeks. When his vision cleared, he scanned the dunes in the distance. The tips were shifting ever so slightly.

“Shit,” he mumbled. The wind was picking up. Not good for training a first-time rookie on a rifle with a kick.

Michael trekked through the sand to the back of his truck and reached for Jeff’s rifle. The stock felt firm in his hands, strong, even after all these years. His father had given him the gun along with the semiautomatic assault rifle. The assault rifle would be David’s when he was old enough, but today there was no way he was going to let the boy shoot it. The recoil was just too powerful.

He met the boys at the front of the truck and peered over at the crudely made range. A wood board was propped up with several bricks about two hundred yards away. Several empty soda cans had blown
away, sprinkling the sand with litter. Michael had expected this would be the case and prepared by bringing his own sack of cans. The trick was going to be getting them to stay put in the wind.

“Let’s set up here,” Michael said, crouching to grab a plastic bag out of his backpack. “Jeff, you stay with David. I’ll be right back.”

Michael checked that the guns weren’t loaded and then propped the rifles against the side of the truck. Glancing one more time at the boys he said, “Don’t touch anything.” He watched them both nod and then ran across the sand, ignoring the numbness in his artificial leg. When he got to the board he began filling the cans with sand to weigh them down and placed a dozen on top.

Perfect.

Shielding his eyes from the wind he rushed back to the truck where Jeff was staring at his new rifle. “This thing is so cool!” the boy said.

Michael laughed. “I thought the same thing when I was your age.”

David chuckled. He sat cross-legged in the sand, scribbling the image of a spaceship into the dirt with a twig.

“Give it here,” Michael said, grabbing the rifle from Jeff. He reached in his backpack for a magazine and said, “Watch very carefully. The first thing I am going to teach you is safety.”

He jammed the mag into the bottom and heard it click. He flipped the gun over for them to see. Then pointing to the safety he said, “This is how you know if the gun is loaded and ready to fire. The gun can only fire when this is red. You should only handle a weapon when the safety is on unless you are ready to fire it.” Michael flipped the switch back and forth so they could see. Shouldering the weapon he looked downrange through the scope.

“Okay, now put your ear gear and glasses on. This gun is much louder than the ones you see in movies.”

Slipping a pair of earplugs in, Michael aimed the rifle downrange. Gripping the trigger with his index finger he lined the sight up with one of the cans. With a measured breath he steadied the rifle and pulled back on the trigger. The recoil wasn’t as bad as he remembered, and he was able to watch the top of the can disappear into the wind without falling off balance.

“The scope still works,” he laughed, pacing over to Jeff. “Okay, your turn, bud.” Michael flipped the safety back on and helped the boy shoulder the weapon. “Make sure it’s tight here, otherwise you’re going to get a nasty bruise. In fact, you might get one anyways, but that’s part of the fun. War wounds to show your buddies.”

Jeff nodded and looked down the sight.

“See the red crosshairs?”

Another short nod.

“Feel pretty comfortable?”

One more nod.

“Okay, last thing before you fire. Never ever point the gun at anyone. After you are finished firing, point the barrel at the ground. Got it?”

Jeff looked up from the scope and smiled. “Got it, Dad.”

Michael patted the boy on the back and retreated to the truck. David peered up from his doodling. The younger boy suddenly looked very curious.

They both watched the first three shots go wild, kicking sand into the air. David flinched at each shot and giggled, but Michael said, “That’s okay, Jeff. It takes awhile to get the hang of it. That’s a thirty-round clip. You have twenty-seven more shots to go!”

Another nod and Jeff squeezed the trigger. The next five shots disappeared into the sand, but the sixth blew a nice-sized hole in the board.

“There you go bud,” Michael said.

Jeff squeezed off a few more shots and finally found one of the cans. The bullet sent the can sailing into the distance.

“Yeah!” Jeff yelled.

“Cool,” David replied, still cupping his ears.

“Good work,” Michael said, stepping up behind Jeff. “David, you want to give it a try?”

Jeff looked up at his dad through his eyewear. “Paula would crap her pants!”

Michael smiled. “Paula’s not here. And if you boys promise not to tell her then—”

A massive explosion roared in the distance. The aftershock sent a
tremor ripping through the ground. Bracing himself against the truck, Michael scanned the skyline for the noise. Miles away, where a few metal towers from the base peeked over the sand dunes, he could see a black ship shooting into the sky.

He watched the ship, confused. It wasn’t heading across the skyline toward another base or city. The ship was heading straight up. The ship was heading for space.