ENTRY 0011

DESIGNEE: AI ALEXIA MODEL 11

The medical ward is the last room in the personnel quarters wing. I’ve been running diagnostics on Mr. Yool for an hour. The results are . . . disturbing. His body composition has changed dramatically. He has suffered a loss of over 15 percent of tissue water, which in most cases would be fatal. His pulse is weak, but he is still alive.

Utilizing one of the three cryogenic chambers, I’ve put him in a medically induced coma to prevent any seizures from his spastic muscles. In addition, I have hooked him up to multiple tubes that feed him nutrients and saline. His skin, however, has yet to respond. It is wrinkled, pale, and filmy, with a hint of jaundice. I update his chance of survival to 19 percent.

I turn my attention to Dr. Rodriguez, who is in a bed adjacent to the cryogenic chambers. He’s sitting up, nursing a cup of water with a high volume of sodium. Dr. Winston sits by his side, her hand gripping his. The video image reveals she is still shaking. Her ears have suffered extensive damage; I have provided her with a medicated device to go inside her lobes until they heal. She should have no problems hearing now, but she may suffer headaches or vertigo as side effects.

Dr. Brown and Mr. Roberts sit in metal chairs in the hallway outside. Their faces are flushed. Mr. Roberts twitches, picking at a hangnail. Dr. Brown is so still that I run a quick scan to make sure she has not succumbed to shock. Sergeant Overton and his men remain in the mess hall, consuming a day’s ration of packaged meals. Their expressions are tired, but not nearly as anxious as those of Dr. Winston and her team.

At 0200, and after a considerable amount of silence, I decide it is time I share with the team what I have known for several hours. I prepare the com system so my voice will carry through the Biosphere.

“Dr. Winston, Sergeant Overton, and teammates. Prompted by the opening of the Biosphere doors, an automated message from Dr. Hoffman emerged at approximately 2100 hours. Please relocate to the mess hall, where I will play the video on the holographic projector.”

As the team migrates down the hall, I cannot help but experience what humans would define as curiosity. After all, the past few days have resulted in more questions than answers, and if I am correct, Dr. Hoffman’s message will only add to the list of mysteries.

CHAPTER 13

TIMOTHY ripped a hangnail off his index finger as his right eye twitched. “I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”

“Right now we have just as many questions as you do,” Overton replied, as they waited for Sophie to wheel Emanuel into the mess hall.

“You guys are Marines. You’ve been outside. You should know what’s happening!” Timothy fired back.

Overton continued to twirl his combat knife on his fingertips, ignoring the man’s comments. Over the years he had increasingly lost his ability to deal with men like Timothy—men who were, in his opinion, a waste of time. He’d spent his entire career as an active-duty Marine protecting men like that.