Death Trap by Sigmund Brouwer

one eyebrow, then the other. I practiced it because I liked the way it looked when Rawling did it. “It makes sense?” I asked.
    â€œI’ll explain in a minute,” he said. “First, tell me why you decided not to tell the med techs.”
    â€œYou’re the director,” I stated bluntly. “If there is something out there, I figured you should be the one to decide whether you want anyone else under the dome to know about it—in case people start to panic.”
    â€œFrom worrying about an alien attack?” Rawling queried.
    â€œThat would be big news for all of us,” I responded. “Wondering what was out there and waiting. I mean, you saw what happened to Timothy Neilson’s space suit.”
    â€œJust his space suit, right?” he asked. “I know what the med techs told me, but I want to hear it straight from you.”
    All of a sudden I realized that Rawling was talking as if there actually were aliens. Goosebumps chilled my neck. “His body looked fine to me. So if they only hurt his space suit, maybe I showed up before they could finish the attack.” I stopped and thought about what I’d said. “Whatever they are.”
    Rawling began to fiddle with a pencil on his desk. He spun it several times and spoke as he stared at it. “To find out there is other life in the universe besides life on Earth would be one of the most incredible discoveries in scientific history. Then to find out that this alien life-form will attack humans …” He spun the pencil a few more times. “You know our last director kept too many secrets from people under the dome.”
    I nodded. Those secrets were another part of why ex-director Steven was heading for Earth on the next spaceship leaving Mars.
    â€œWrong as he was to decide who should live and who should die when the dome was running out of oxygen, he has some of my sympathy. Sitting behind this desk is not easy. Neither are some of the decisions.” He rubbed his face. “Conditions back on Earth are not the greatest. Because of overpopulation, governments are barely maintaining control as everyone fights for water and other resources.”
    â€œYes,” I said. I wondered why he was telling me something I already knew. Something everybody on Earth knew too.
    â€œWhat I’m saying,” Rawling told me, his voice heavy, “is that if news of aliens—especially aliens that attack humans—reaches Earth, it might cause riots.”
    â€œI understand that,” I said. “Are you telling me there are aliens, and you’ve kept it a secret?”
    â€œI’m telling you that if I do keep it a secret, people here might get hurt. If I keep it a secret, I’m doing exactly what the former director did. And I don’t know if that’s right.” He sighed. “But on the other hand, if I call an assembly and tell everyone what I know, eventually word will get back to Earth and billions of people may panic.”
    I cleared my throat. “What exactly do you know?”
    Rawling didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked on his computer. The monitor on the edge of his desk lit up. I saw the cursor move across the screen.
    â€œHere’s why what you told me makes sense,” he said, opening a file.
    It wasn’t a text file or a video file but an audio file. A short clip of excited shouting.
    I didn’t hear it right the first time. Or at least, I didn’t want to believe I had heard it right.
    â€œThat voice belongs to Timothy Neilson,” Rawling said. “It’s his last radio communication back to the base. I’ve ordered the radio operator to keep it quiet until I can figure out what to do about it.” He replayed the audio clip for me.
    â€œHelp!” Timothy Neilson’s terrified voice shouted from the computer. “Help! They’re chasing me! Dozens of them! Help me! Help me! Help—”
    All that followed