Free The Mothership by Stephen Renneberg

silence. She froze again, now certain she
was not alone. There were no footsteps or breathing, but something was
rummaging through the debris at the edge of the house. She knew crocs didn’t
like moving on land during the heat of the day, but they would if they were
hungry and food was close.
    Can it smell me?
    Laura released her grip on the beam above
her head and eased herself into the shadows, away from the sunlight pouring
down from above. She turned her face toward the noise, peering through myriad
gaps in the wreckage, but saw nothing.
    Where’d it go?
    A wooden plank skidded barely two meters
away. She suppressed a gasp, then looked over her shoulder, spotting a dark
shape moving silently over the debris.
    How did it get up there, without me hearing
it?
    Through the peepholes, she saw a metallic,
almost shiny surface, not the leathery crocodile hide she’d expected, and it
glided above the wreckage, rather than walked upon it. Laura swallowed,
fighting her fear as she shrank further back into the shadows. She watched the
ovoidal shape’s slender mechanical arms poke the debris with knife-like probes.
When the surveyor floated over the opening above her, it stopped, revealing a
glowing strip running along its underside. It hovered motionless and silent
while one of its frontal arms pushed pieces of wood and plaster aside. Several
planks slid away, causing bright sunlight to shoot down into the area to her
left, illuminating one of her hiking boots and catching a tiny kangaroo rat in
the sunlight. Startled, the little marsupial hopped toward the shadows as one
of the surveyor’s frontal arms speared down with blinding speed. There was a
squeal, then the arm retracted with the tiny animal impaled on its blade probe.
    Laura’s eyes widened in fright as she
forced herself to remain motionless in the shadows, not even daring to move her
foot. Her heart beat furiously as a small panel opened in the surveyor’s side
and the arm deposited the tiny creature inside. After a moment, the surveyor
moved on over the ruins. She turned slowly, watching it float across the lawn
towards the lab. Now she could see the drone more clearly. The sensor disk on
top glistened in the sunlight like black glass as it studied the remains of the
research station. Halfway to the lab, it stopped to drive one of its knife-like
probes deep into the ground, instantly obtaining a chemical analysis of the
soil. It retracted the probe, then continued on to the laboratory, where it
started sifting through the debris.
    Gradually, Laura’s fear subsided as the
surveyor moved away. She began observing it with the mind of a scientist,
realizing it was a piece of technology, although unlike any machine she’d ever
seen. By the way it probed its surroundings, gathered data and collected
samples, she knew if it discovered her, it would treat her like another
specimen.
    Is that what happened to Dan?
    The surveyor glided over the lab toward
where the animal cages had been. A probe arm speared down into the wrecked
laboratory, then retracted with a mass of color impaled on its knife probe.
Laura winced when she saw the white bandage covering one of the bird’s legs,
realizing it was the rosella she’d operated on the previous night. The surveyor
deposited the bird in another specimen compartment, then glided toward the
aviary’s nylon netting.
    It’s going for my birds! Laura thought as the birds became
agitated, chattering and flying between the trees.
    The surveyor drifted outside the aviary
while its optical sensor discovered the netting was a primitive synthetic
construct. It sliced off a section of the net, then deposited it into a
compartment for later analysis. The underbrush near the aviary came alive as
seven meters of reptilian fury surged toward the machine. Massive jaws filled
with large yellow teeth clamped down on the surveyor. Electrical flashes
erupted from the machine as vital components were crushed. The surveyor’s arms
nearest the croc