Before he had a chance to straighten his spine, Alexia emerged on the console next to him. His sight was hazy from staring into the microscope for so long, but he could have sworn he saw excitement on her face.

“Dr. Rodriguez. This sample of Organic blood does contain approximately 80.43 percent H2O. However, the other 19.57 percent consists of a substance very similar to plasma. I’m still breaking the data down, but it appears the blood has an electronic component, which likely has something to do with their defenses.”

Emanuel smiled. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but he was really starting to enjoy having Alexia around.

He moved to another station and flicked the display of the monitor. “Fascinating. Electrovalent blood,” he mumbled, scanning the data again to make sure he was reading it correctly. It was shocking, but at the same time it made sense. The shields were likely powered by the creatures’ blood. When they were feeding, their systems must shut down, and in turn lower their defenses.

The revelation made his heart beat rapidly in his chest. If his theory was correct, then he had just found the Organics’ biggest weakness.

A strange, metallic rustling sound rang out in the ventilation above. The noise startled him, and he quickly forgot about the implications of his findings. He froze, listening intently.

Silence.

Emanuel was just about to shrug off the noise and return to his work when he heard the rustling again. It was growing more pronounced, as if something was moving through the ductwork.

He grabbed the scalpel and edged toward the door. Just before he reached the sliding glass panel, he recognized the sound.

Scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape.

Timothy forced an ice pack against his jaw. His face throbbed. The painkillers had worn off. A broken jaw wasn’t something that just healed overnight, even with the incredible advances in modern medicine. It would take another week before the bones would be completely repaired and the pain subsided.

A crack in his coffee cup reminded him of the scar on Overton’s face. The bastard had given him a scar, too. He grimaced and probed the tender spot where the Marine’s fist had made contact. The scar was only an inch long, but it would be a constant reminder of his hatred for the macho Marine.

Timothy had hated men like Overton his entire life. They had bullied him as a child, and bullied him as an adult. But he would have his revenge somehow, presuming the man made it back to the Biosphere alive.