I’ve never understood this side of humans. Even after downloading thousands of articles on human behavior and psychology, I simply do not understand why they fight so hard to survive when faced with almost certain death.

When I was designed, my purpose was simply to assist them in accomplishing the Biosphere mission so humanity would have a chance of traveling to the stars and preserving their species. The AIs that came before me were all designed to assist as well, but not in protecting life—in destroying it. Their objective was to annihilate the enemy at all costs. They were designed by men and women who only cared about winning wars.

Man has an extraordinary ability to create, from skyscrapers to state-of-the-art medical centers. And yet, in a very short time, he can ruin everything he created—poisoning the atmosphere with carbon emissions and unleashing horrific weapons on innocent civilians.

The facility in which I now work is one of humankind’s most impressive accomplishments. We are deep inside a mountain, working off the grid. It is here, where NTC pooled its resources and its last hope of creating a successful Biosphere together so humans could travel to Mars and repopulate, that the irony becomes obvious. As the three images show what’s left of the team fighting for survival, their mission becomes crystal clear, and in reality it really hasn’t changed: The mission is to preserve what’s left of the human species. Only this time the enemy isn’t humanity; it’s an invading alien intelligence.

Another sensor goes off as Sergeant Overton and Corporal Bouma finish securing Biome 1. I check a new piece of data scrolling across my display.

Interesting.

The likelihood of the team’s survival has climbed back up to 21 percent.

Overton wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and took a seat on the cold metal bench of an empty table in the mess hall. With a loud bang he planted his rifle on the table.

His watch read 9:28. They had met their objective, securing Biome 1 in thirty minutes. Now he was waiting for Sophie and Emanuel to rejoin the group and report on the device. The clatter of metal spoons echoed throughout the mostly silent mess hall. Owen and Jamie watched him between bites.

Footsteps drowned out the sounds of the children eating, and he looked up to see Sophie and Emanuel entering the chamber side by side. Their faces were both rife with exhaustion, and Sophie’s frizzled blond hair shot out in all directions.

Overton looked down at his watch again.

9:29:49.

“It’s done, Sergeant,” Sophie said, taking a seat across from him. “The RVM is online. I’ve tasked Alexia with ensuring it has the desired effect, but from what we could tell it’s working at 100 percent.”