Symphony of Descension

by Robert D. Armstrong

  “Colonel Ritter,” Lucas said, giving him a firm handshake.

  Ritter was in his late fifties, tall and thin, with gaunt facial features. He was balding with a scraggly gray and brown combover. He had a calculating, intelligent look about him, his deep-set hazel eyes seemed to scan and process information at a high level of scrutiny. His wrinkled face seemed hardened from years of concentration.

  “Have a seat.” He signaled, assessing Lucas as he panned around Ritter’s office.

  It was a narrow and long room with a woody appearance throughout, dark cherry desk, bookshelves, and a matching chair in front of it. Pictures were littered about from Ritter’s youth. Most had him alongside guerilla fighters in foreign lands, Afghanistan and Korea more than likely. Ritter’s hair and body was thicker in his youth and sported different appearances in each photo, a beard in Afghanistan and clean-shaven in Korea.

  “You miss those days?” Lucas sat straight in his chair. Ritter raised his eyebrows, glanced around the room.

  He bobbed his head side to side. “Eh, sometimes, but not usually, no.” He dropped his head for a moment and grinned, shifting his eyes up at Lucas. “What about yourself? You miss the SEALs?” he narrowed his eyes at Lucas, sipping a cup of water.

  “No, not really,” Lucas replied.

  “Yeah, hmm, I’d guess not.” Ritter sneered.

  Lucas squinted. “You got something you wanna say, Colonel?”

  “Nah, no offense. Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already,” Ritter replied. Lucas’ reputation in combat was a dark, dingy basement of secrets. He was known to get the job done at all costs.

  “You know better than most that was a long time ago. A young man’s war. Your people had a job, train the guerillas, use them to your advantage. Ours was different, direct action against the threat, and that’s what we did,” Lucas said.

  Ritter leaned back in his chair. “yeah, we both had our roles. Sometimes the generals needed a sledgehammer, other times a scalpel,” Ritter said. Lucas nodded.

  “I guess you’ll never know exactly what generals need, will you, Colonel?” Lucas asked. The colonel was clearly past his elder prime.

  Ritter chuckled. “What I do know is that it doesn’t say much for your intelligence to show up on my doorstep after being declared an enemy of the state,” he replied.

  Lucas paused, sticking out his bottom lip. “Yeah? It says even less that you won’t do anything about it.”

  Ritter turned his head and paused. His face turned red as he grinned. “So, what is it you want? You’re clearly not worried about self-preservation.”

  “Ah, well, you know how us sledgehammers are. We’re not worried about precision or politics, just about knocking the shit outta something that gets in our way.” Lucas and Ritter chuckled. Ritter leaned back in his expensive leather office chair, interlocking his fingers on his stomach.

  “Alright, so, let’s cut the shit,” Ritter said.

  “I want you to give me back an artifact you took,” Lucas said.

  Ritter tilted his head and smiled, then began to snicker under his breath. “You come all the way out here and make demands after all the dirt we have on you?”

  “Yeah, I am. Let me explain,” Lucas said, yanking out his phone. “What kind of holocontacts are you wearing?” Lucas inquired.

  “None. I have glasses, though.” He pulled out a set of small, round sophisticated reading glasses that could view holograms.

  “Show me camera seventeen’s feed,” Lucas commanded his phone AI.

  “Please wait,” the AI responded in a female voice.

  The device projected a crystal clear holographic image between Ritter and Lucas, over the desk. The colonel stood, pushing his glasses forward.

  “Huh?” His mouth dropped.

  “What…where is this?” he asked.

  “You ought to know. It’s at my compound,” Lucas said.

  Ritter titled his head, observing the floating oval wrapped in tentacles. He glanced at Lucas, then back at the feed. “That’s live?” Ritter asked.

  “Yep.”

  “What in God’s name?” Ritter asked.

  “Yeah, my exact reaction.”

  Ritter studied it for a few moments. “What’s this thing got to do with the artifact?” Ritter asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Explain.” Ritter said.

  “The top of the artifact is circular, about this big.” Lucas outstretched his arms.

  “I know the one you’re referring to. Why is it important to you, specifically?” he asked.

  “So, apparently, this device you confiscated is used as a means of control, it can enslave these beings.” Lucas pointed at the screen. Ritter furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes.

  “That’s why it’s here. The device has been activated by someone. You can’t see it now, but underneath those tentacles is a potentially unfriendly visitor, extremely powerful, and we don’t have much time,” Lucas replied.

  Ritter spun around, staring out the window. “How many of those creatures do they have?” Ritter asked.

  “I’ve only seen this one.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not that important if they only sent one alien?” Ritter posed.

  “That’s all they need, take it from me.”

  “Does it have a ship?” Ritter asked.

  “I don’t know, doubt it. I get the feeling it can travel as is.”

  “Lucas, are you aware of the situation in Russia?”

  “Russia? Uh, no. Why?” he asked.

  “They’ve created an army of automated robots, near three quarters of a million, extremely deadly. We’re already six months into another cold war, and we don’t have an answer to them.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “My point is, this artifact, we think it can control any machine, Lucas. It works like a master key for computers. It’s an artificial intelligence of some sort solely designed to hack operating systems using frequencies were unaware of. Any operating system. The day we confiscated it—”

  “Which you had no grounds to, but please, continue.”

  “Oh, sure we did. You had the potential to curb the flow of technology to your liking. Enemies could have stolen it, who knows. You were one man with a whole lotta power.”

  “Now you’re that guy.” Lucas stabbed his finger at Ritter.

  “But we have teams of people that decide when and how the technology is unraveled, careful planning.”

  “Which are all tied to money machines, corporations I’m sure.” Lucas raised his eyebrows.

  “Partly, all in the name of protecting our interests. The point is, it’s not one guy calling the shots here.”

  “There wasn’t a problem with it until Solarsystems closed up shop. We both know that was your link. Now that you lost some of that control, you came after me. Come in, pointing your weapons at my people and seizing whatever you want in the middle of the night?” he asked.

  “My people are the American people, four hundred and sixty million of us, last count.”

  Lucas sighed loudly. “Fine, fine, look, I brought it up, but we have more pressing matters. This is all typical government bullshit, we both know it,” Lucas said.

  “Call it whatever you like, but you’re right, we must address the issue at hand, immediately,” Ritter said, annoyingly tapping his fingers across his desk, suspended in deep thought for a moment.

  “Yeah, let’s make this right,” Lucas said.

  “Look, we know the artifact has vast potential. It can hack or shut down any computer program. We’ve even built a smaller prototype that works in limited scenarios. However, this one, it’s much more powerful, Lucas. More than anything we could build. So, we know it could be of value against the Russian threat.”

  “Russian threat? Aren’t you missing the point here? I have a potentially hostile alien being hovering over my fucking roof. It tore through one of my Crux Mechs. Do you know how durable those things are?” Lucas asked.

>   “I understand that. I’m not disregarding this thing one bit, but after we hand it over and it leaves, then what? We still have a serious threat to contend with, the Russians.”

  “World threat, Colonel, step out of the bubble,” Lucas said.

  The colonel nodded. “Maybe.”

  “You turned on the artifact, didn’t you? That’s why it’s here,” Lucas said.

  “I mean, possibly. Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that.” Ritter shrugged.

  “Jesus. You’re the problem. You basically gave an interstellar species a beacon to my backyard. Congratulations. This thing is threatening to wipe us out if you don’t give it back. It’s waiting on me. Or you, actually.” Lucas raised his voice slightly.

  “I’m obviously making this a priority Lucas, this is a once in a lifetime scenario and we need to do everything in our power not to foul this up. I’ll let my superiors know the situation and we’ll be in touch immediately.”

  “Good. When can I expect to hear something?” Lucas stood up.

  “Oh, very soon. This will go straight to the decision makers but, I’m thinking, what assurance do we have this thing will keep its word and leave peacefully?” Ritter asked.

  “We don’t, but this is the only chance we have.”

  Chapter Five

  “You awake?” Vala asked.

  “Yeah, thinking about the attack,” Michael answered.

  “How much longer do think this will continue?”

  “Maybe when they run out of bullets,” Michael answered.

  “Or shooters,” Vala said.

  Michael was sprawled out in the back seat of their SUV. The orange freeway lights illuminated the interior as they navigated the vacant highway. He noticed the streetlamps gleam on his metallic skull in the rear-view mirror with each passing pole. It was 3 a.m. in rural central Oregon.

  “We’ll need to go back eventually. You’ve got those antibacterial packs under the floorboard,” she said.

  “What do you suggest we do, tell the crime scene investigators to leave while we get our stuff? There’s quite a few dead mercenaries at the apartment. It won’t be an overnight thing to clean that up,” he said. She paused, glaring at him.

  “What’s the plan until then?” she asked.

  “We keep moving. We’re solar powered so we can drive until this settles. Luckily, I stored some of the packs in the back last week so we’re good for a little while,” he replied.

  “We need an RV then. Toilet breaks and showers are a bitch. I’m tired of mimicking lot lizards at truck stops.”

  “A what?”

  “Lot lizard…a hooker,” she replied.

  “Oh yeah, but why on earth would you do that? That’s suspicious to the authorities.”

  “No, prostitution is super low on the priority list these days. I go in there with my ratty hair and bad makeup and no one says a word. Blend in, that’s what I do, Mike,” she said.

  Michael sighed. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “It’s all about the tech addicts now. Prostitution doesn’t stuff their wallets. They book linkers, strip down the parts from their devices, and resell them so the courts can make more of a profit,” she said.

  “It’s a scam, always has been. They can’t morally get away with reselling illegal drugs, but tech products are worth a fortune, and it’s legal. They keep improving virtual reality, sucking in more addicts, then they don’t work as much. Before you know it, they’re out on the street, arrested for tech linking,” Michael said.

  “Vicious cycle. Shouldn’t have said anything to ya earlier. Now you’ll be having nightmares about me in truck stops.”

  “I think you can handle yourself, but it does bother me. Speaking of which, I had a dream, before the mercs attacked us,” he said.

  “Was the dream related to the attack?”

  “No. I was thinking about dad, back when he was sick with his tech addiction. We were there at a counseling session, just a normal day, but in the dream, his face was a blur, and so was yours. It was like static or something.”

  “Dreams are like that.”

  “But when I woke up, I still couldn’t remember his face. Even now, I just have a faint memory of him. I know he had dark features, that’s about it.”

  “Mike, we’re lucky with the therapy we got back what we did,” she replied.

  “I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, I got most of my memories back,” he said.

  “That would have been devastating if not. You know, for a few years when we first started your therapy, I thought we were in the clear. We were living at Butch’s rental house. I thought then, since Dr. Amery was dead, all of this would fade away,” Vala recalled.

  Michael leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t, I knew it’d be a matter of time.” He gazed out of the window into the blackness.

  “Optimism, even after everything, it’s still one of my weaknesses.”

  “The only weakness is you see that as a flaw. Optimism is what got us here.” Michael nodded his head at her in the mirror as she glanced at him.

  “It can be.”

  “Not saying you react with optimism initially, but after you’ve had time to think, you fall back on it.”

  “Yeah, getting over that initial rage is the tough part,” she said.

  “Thing is, my body is worth billions, these materials, dead or alive. Anything with that amount of value, they’re coming after it. Money talks,” he said.

  “We were careful, though.”

  “Eh, for the most part.”

  “Where did we slip up?” she asked.

  “Honestly, it was probably a doctor. The reversal process of the ECHO was such an undertaking, we probably missed something. Maybe one of the doctors.”

  “I remember you saying that. Just not sure how they keep finding us,” Vala said.

  “We’re probably bugged. Maybe it’s my body setting off some type of emission or frequency,” he said.

  “Doubtful. I have the same scanner as the mercs did. The materials you’re made of don’t set off any sensors.”

  “That’s strange. Almost all the other alien materials give off a faint signal, but not me?” Michael asked.

  “Not all of it does,” she said.

  “Hey, Val, uh…” Michael snapped his head around.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got another car coming up behind us. Maybe a mile back.” Michael shuffled around. “We’ll just let `em pass, stay calm.”

  “Alright. It’s not a cop, is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. Michael yanked out his energy rifle from under the seat. The extended barrel had been collapsed for transport, allowing for maneuverability inside the SUV’s space, doubling down as a more compact weapon. He whipped around in the seat, aiming down the holographic reflex scope.

  “Eyes on it,” Michael said, prying into the vehicle with his advanced optics. The passenger was a male, in his early sixties with his hands rested high on the wheel. His head nodded back and forth. “One occupant. He’s dozing at the wheel, drifting across lanes slightly. Give him two lanes, just to be safe.”

  “Road trip. Probably pushing his luck to make time,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Vala let off the throttle allowing the man to catch up. As he approached, Michael could make out it was an older, white extended-cab truck, a work vehicle. The bed had welded racks with ladders tied down to it with squares of roofing stacked up high.

  She eased over in the slow lane, glancing back and forth at the side mirror to give him room on the four-lane freeway. She altered her appearance to that of an older woman, her dirty blonde hair turning grey as her skin wrinkled. She arched her back for effect as Michael slumped low in his seat but continued aiming his weapon at the truck from his lap.

  The truck advanced toward the rear of their SUV within forty feet. It began to decrease speed, slowly approaching the cabin. “Vala.”

  �
�I see him.”

  Michael could feel her heart rate with his left hand on the door. The pulse that fueled his purpose fluttered with only a hint of excitement as the work truck aligned with their SUV. It was two lanes apart and matching their speed. Vala glanced over at the occupant casually to assess him.

  The man looked out of place, as if he was stuck in some cheesy 1980s sci-fi comedy, wearing thick bifocal glasses that rested on the tip of his pug nose. He had thick and wavy, unkempt gray hair, almost mad scientist wild, with a summit that nearly touched the ceiling of the truck.

  He was fighting to keep his eyes peeled as he glared straight ahead, but his head slowly drifted toward the steering wheel. His glasses fell as he began to veer toward the middle lane.

  Vala tapped the horn. “Wake up man, geez.”

  He snapped out of it, grabbing the wheel with one hand and fumbling for his glasses with the other. He swerved slightly, overcorrecting before gaining control. “Shit!” Vala yelled.

  The man panned back and forth in realization that he’d fallen asleep. He did a double take at Vala staring at him, he waved as his eyes blinked rapidly. He mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Michael chuckled. “This guy is something else.”

  The man shook his head at himself, grinning. He seemed embarrassed. But suddenly his faced changed, his sleepy smile, relaxed eyes and drooping mouth tightened up into a scowl. His hair blackened, his wrinkles faded within a second as a machine gun barrel whipped right at them. Vala slammed on the brakes as bullets riddled the front quarter panel. “Cilan!” she yelled.

  “Are you hit??” Michael locked in on the target.

  “No!” She spun the vehicle around in the road, pulling a 180 degree turn on two wheels, slinging Michael around in the seat. He smashed into the backseat passenger window, cracking it. Michael quickly latched onto the back of Vala’s seat like a protective shield, making himself as wide as possible as bullets pierced the rear glass, shattering it. “Go! Go! Go!” he yelled as the projectiles peppered the interior.

  She rocketed away from the attacker. Michael lined up a shot out of the back glass, but another car was coming head on. “Mike!” Vala swerved to miss them, but it clipped the side of their vehicle, knocking the mirror off. “Get off the road!” Michael yelled. She yanked the wheel, running through a guard rail and into an off ramp, then through a field. She began to veer back toward the road. “No! Pull over! We do it here and now!” he yelled.