Echo Effect Complete Edition

by Robert D. Armstrong

  “You let me worry about that,” Amery replied, walking out of the room.

  SolarSystems had always had the human option in their back pocket. They had researched and tested artificial intelligence, but it just couldn’t match the millions of years of evolution the human mind had undergone. However, this emotion, this attachment, was the price for all the dynamic intelligence the human brain offered.

  ***

  “Dr. Amery, you have a call from one of your field assets. Should I take a message?” a young secretary questioned.

  “No, no. Put them through.”

  Amery hesitated before picking up the phone, tapping his fingers on the desk. He was in deep thought. He had plenty of field assets acquiring Star Rust, and most of them called from unregistered numbers, but there was one in particular he didn’t want to hear from. Not after what happened with Michael.

  “Um, yes,” he answered politely. He gulped.

  “Are you going to tell me your name at some point?” Vala asked.

  “I don’t do that. I have anonymous sources too, you know, and I never ask them that question,” Amery replied.

  “Whatever. Well?” she asked.

  “You’ll be happy to hear I have a name for you. Someone who’s involved,” Amery said.

  “Let’s hear it,” she said.

  “Lucas Anderson,” Amery replied.

  “I’ve never heard that name before. Anything else?” she asked.

  “Nope, that’s it. I would wager in your line of work that’s all you need is a name. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Amery said. Vala hung up the phone immediately.

  “If she only knew Michael was less than sixty feet away from me. Hm. She would likely kill everyone in this building to get to him, even me.” Amery said raising his eyebrows. He leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers as he stared at the wall.

  After surgery, Michael would begin training with Keith Sanders. Then, all the cumulative research and drilling would be put to the ultimate test. SolarSystems would have to prove their newest iteration to the Department of Defense if they wanted to land a huge contract.

  In order to do so, SolarSystems would need to pass The Crucible—a military war game designed to test the very best.

  It was created specifically to measure the ability of new military prototypes to outwit the human mind. However, after years of failure, SolarSystems discovered the only way to fight fire was with fire.

  Chapter Eight

  Eight months later at The Crucible...

  At a remote military facility in Alaska, two men stood silently for a moment, looking over the balcony and collecting their thoughts. They stared into the white woodlands as the snow fell. They had just arrived, and it was a rare moment of beauty, as both men were used to the decaying mainland United States.

  “You know, other than the radiation levels, it almost appears untouched,” Lucas said.

  “Until you realize you’ve grown an extra toe or finger from the exposure,” Keith replied.

  Keith Sanders was the behavioral expert in charge of SolarSystems’ newest prototype. Keith was Dr. Amery’s right-hand man. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He had seen a few iterations of new weapons programs come through the pipeline at SolarSystems, but this new model was much different.

  Keith had spent the last eight months instructing his newest prototype, the former Army Ranger Michael Keller, on the training grounds at SolarSystems. However, this facility in Alaska would be the final assessment before he could be considered an active military unit, giving SolarSystems the chance to score a massive military contract. The Crucible was about to get underway.

  Keith was a thirty-eight-year-old man from Minnesota, but didn’t have the accent. Most of his family were devoted Roman Catholics, but Keith labeled himself simply as a “believer” without a denomination. He’d been at odds with his family for years over his faith, especially his father who saw Keith as the black sheep. Despite his success in school and his career as a behavioral scientist, his father never really got over his faith choice.

  Up until a few years ago, Keith sported thick blond hair and a white smile. Nearly wrinkle-free skin made him look ten years younger than he was. He attributed it to his vegan diet. However, he’d begun to age quickly in the last few years. His hair had thinned and developed a bald spot on the top back portion of his head, and many of his wrinkles looked more pronounced.

  He was less than an inch short of being six foot tall, but unlike most, he didn’t round up. He usually dressed well, but here in the frigid cold, he wore a dark, heavy pea coat with a black scarf.

  He ate right, worked out, and didn’t smoke or drink much. Most of his focus on health was a distraction for the past. Being health conscious was time consuming, and along with his work, that’s exactly what he needed.

  Tragically, Keith lost his newborn son and wife in a surprise radiation storm and law restricted access to hospitals or any government buildings during these events. His wife went into labor early from the stress of the storm, and bled to death.

  Over the last year, he’d moved his focus in life into other areas, specifically work. He forced himself to become a busy man.

  “What do you have planned after the Crucible?” Lucas asked.

  “Nothing really. This is all I’ve been planning for months.”

  “What about you? Headed back over to Fifth Column after all this is over, or do you have business elsewhere?” Keith asked.

  “Oh yeah, a lot of work waiting for me. It never ends. I’m hoping the materials we tracked down help your new prototype ace this final test.” Lucas answered, tugging his coat tighter around his chest.

  “Our prototype, you mean,” Keith corrected, smiling.

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  Keith and Lucas weren’t exactly friends, but they knew each other through Dr. Amery. Amery was gifted at finding the right people for the right role, and Lucas could find anything. He was a hunter of Star Rust.

  Lucas Anderson was a legend in the eyes of many. He was a former Navy SEAL commander in the North Korean campaign, and now was leader of the ultra-secret Fifth Column, one of SolarSystems’ business partners. He was there to see just how much his expeditions had contributed. A contract extension was at stake.

  Lucas’ official title was CEO of the Fifth Column. His real title was external acquisitions. Basically, his company was responsible for acquiring alien Star Rust by any means necessary. It was a very specialized trade, and Lucas’ company was just right for the job. He had assembled a mega cast of the best mercenaries, intelligence specialists, engineers, and logistics experts in the world, most of which were connections he made while in the SEALs.

  However, under the table, SolarSystems was looking to cut out Lucas’ company. Lucas and his men had acquired some of the materials for this prototype, but ironically, it might put them out of the job. One of the prototype’s design objectives was to hunt down additional Star Rust.

  “Whoa, that wind just cuts right through you, huh?” Lucas said.

  “Eh, I’m kinda used to it. Not quite this cold though,” Keith said.

  “Where you from again? Like, Oregon, wasn’t it?”

  “Ha, Minnesota,” Keith answered.

  “Ah yeah. I knew it was one of those places where you guys brag about your driving skills in the snow.” Lucas grinned. “Or how you don’t need coats, just grow a beard and chest hair and you’ll be fine.”

  “I’ve never heard a man from Minnesota say that.” Keith said.

  “Who said it was a man?” Lucas posed.

  “And I thought the Marines were the jokesters.” Keith smiled.

  “That’s why you left, is it?” Lucas joked. “Nothing wrong with a little body hair here and there.”

  “To each his own I suppose.”

  Lucas hummed as he came inside, patting Keith on the back. Keith stayed out on the balcony for a few more minutes, taking it all in. He looked out at the scenic snowscape th
at blanketed the woodlands as the winds howled through the abandoned military structure, pushing drifts of snow up twenty feet high around the concrete perimeter walls.

  Immediately down from the installation, he could hear the warped metallic hangers from an old electric tower creaking in the wind. The electric lines still dangled in the snow like loose strings.

  The area had suffered minimal fallout during the North Korean attacks years ago, but the readings were supposedly “safe” for military personnel. Civilians never reoccupied.

  Keith went back inside. “Say, Lucas. How many Marines are participating?”

  “Twenty-two, I think,” Lucas replied, counting in his head.

  “You’ll be surprised when you see our work. It’s nothing like what we’ve had in the past,” Keith said.

  “Well, I just hope we’ve assisted enough in the development. We weren’t allowed to see much of it at all, even in the early stages. I barely even saw what we recovered,” Lucas said, pulling out a tablet.

  “Like you would have any idea what it is anyway.” Keith said.

  “What?” Lucas squared up on Keith, grinning.

  “You don’t know what you’re looking at, you just have the right people working under you.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Lucas asked.

  “Nothing, I just like giving you a hard time. I do think it’s humorous how much work you do in the field, yet you probably don’t know what any of it does.”

  “But I can find it. I can get my guys close enough, that’s more than half the battle in my field. I know my role.” Lucas explained.

  “Right.”

  “Well it looks like your men are moving quickly. They’re almost set up for the drill,” Lucas noted.

  Keith looked outside, and to his surprise, most of his men were finished ahead of schedule. They were underdressed.

  “It’s amazing how fast people will work to get out of the cold,” Keith said, smiling. “Three of my guys are brand new. I told them to dress warm but—”

  “Must be Minnesotans?” Lucas said.

  “Ha, yeah.” Keith chuckled and thought about the freezing temperatures Lucas probably endured during SEAL training. SEALs were known to spend most of their time in and out of hypothermic conditions. Keith didn’t have a clue what real cold was and he knew it. Minnesota-born or not.

  “All the solar generators are up and going. We’ll use the old guard stations for observation. The rest of the facility will have power by the time the Marines arrive,” Keith said, looking out into the snowstorm.

  “How much solar power are you getting through those thick clouds?” Lucas asked.

  “Enough. It’s a good thing we don’t have the old solar receivers. Those wouldn’t have picked up anything from this. It’s no wonder they never restored this place.”

  “Not sure I blame them.” Lucas grinned.

  “Me either. Oh wait... Do you hear that? I think our Marines are already here.” Keith and Lucas looked up toward the horizon. It was difficult to see, but a dark mass faintly crept closer.

  “Oh, wow. They’re here early,” Keith said.

  Suddenly, the U.S. Marine Wraith transport jet approached, doing a flyby of the installation before circling back around. The pressure from its vertical thrusters twirled up snow, casting it into the distance.

  Keith could hear the Marines’ chatter on his audio sensor as they landed. “Well, this is it,” the pilot mumbled under his breath while looking across the abandoned arctic military installation. “Ain’t much to look at,” he said in a southern accent.

  It was a large, dull-looking complex. From the air, one side was stacked with metallic, igloo-like storage bins. The other side had a massive hanger bay on the south corner that connected to a bank of office buildings. A few abandoned tanks, jeeps, and helicopters littered the white airstrip. The air control tower was at the north corner. Its glass had been blown out long ago and it was now filled with snow.

  As unimpressive as it appeared now, it was once one of the largest active military bases in North America, complete with an underground facility.

  A holographic visor automatically flipped down in front of the pilot’s vision, assisting with the landing in the heavy snow. The rest of the Marines were sleeping in the back compartment, swaying back and forth in their harnesses as the storm’s turbulence nudged the jet around slightly.

  “Alright, people. Naptime is over! Get your gear and muster with Staff Sergeant Garza,” the captain yelled out. Even though he raised his voice, he was completely calm.

  Keith looked out the main deck’s window, wiping away the steam from his breath on the glass. The Marines filed into the courtyard in front of them. They were an impressive and intimidating bunch. Despite being groggy from their naps, their weapons looked as if they could level the entire compound.

  “Attention on deck!” Garza shouted, but her voice was lost in the blizzard.

  “It’s cold, Staff Sergeant. I can’t feel my face,” one of the corporals joked from the middle of the ranks.

  Garza marched between the ranks, moving the Marines aside as she pushed toward the outspoken Marine. “You won’t ever be able to feel your face again if you have another outburst like that. You’re a Marine. Shut your damn mouth and await further instructions—all of y’all,” Garza ordered as a few of the Marines chuckled.

  Finally, the captain appeared, ducking under the door from the transport jet. He counted his men by hand as he approached them.

  “All right. The head count is twenty-two. That’s everybody. Get ‘em inside, then we’ll muster back out here at 0700.” Like the corporal, he seemed to have had enough of the cold.

  Captain Marcus Belmont was of superhero stature. He played football for the Naval Academy as a defensive lineman. He was six foot nine inches and over 300 pounds. He set the record for deadlifting 1,130 pounds while he was still at the academy. His temperament was measured, but he had a short fuse.

  He had intelligence to boot, graduating third in his class at the Naval Academy. He spoke with an urban southern accent that some pinned as uneducated, but they couldn’t have been more mistaken.

  Belmont grew up in New Orleans after oceans had swallowed the downtown district with rising sea levels. Most people fished Bourbon Street afterwards, but that eventually went away too as the demand outweighed the supply.

  Belmont strolled inside the main deck where Lucas and Keith were. He ducked under the doorframe as one of Keith’s crewmen watched on. “Shouldn’t he be in the NFL?” Lucas joked, leaning in toward Keith. Belmont stepped toward them confidently.

  Keith raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, acknowledging the comment. He had known Belmont from a previous Crucible. They weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies. The interaction was always the same—Belmont’s unit would show up, trash Keith’s prototypes, then leave.

  However, Belmont had apparently never met Lucas. Keith remembered his manners, glancing toward Lucas. “Oh, Captain, good to see you. This is—”

  “Lucas Anderson, Commander of Seal Team Six, Star Rust mercenary. He don’t need no introduction,” Belmont interrupted, smirking.

  “The man does his homework…or he watches a lot of TV.” Lucas grinned and nodded while shaking his hand and looking right into his eyes.

  “Lil’ bit of both, really,” Belmont replied.

  Lucas had a rough but calming look you didn’t forget, like the modern Marlboro man with a few more scars and tattoos. He wore a dark suit with an overcoat. His crisp, modern style tossed a coat of civilized paint over him that didn’t quite cover the dirty walls underneath. He was mysterious but approachable.

  All his dealings with alien artifacts made one wonder exactly what he’d seen, and that being a former Navy SEAL commander anchored down his tough guy credentials. Not that he cared.

  His eyes seemed even bluer in person than in the TV news interviews he was a regular on, always answering questions about his organization. His tanned skin c
ontrasted the white, wavy hair that flowed around his head. It curled up the back and around his ears, appearing wild, yet well maintain.

  He wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much attention if not for his looks and mysterious aura, but public opinion of both SolarSystems and the Fifth Column was at its best when Lucas was on TV. However, he’d recently moved back to the ground level of his work after his contract extension was at stake. Normally, he would never even be out there.

  “Ah, okay, right. Well, you remember me? I’m Keith Sanders, the prototype’s behavior and training supervisor.” Keith stuck out his hand to shake, noticing Belmont’s hand was easily double the size of his own. Belmont shook hands and gave Keith a sample of his power, enough that it wasn’t too obvious.

  “Okay, so how many of these things are my men going against this time?” Belmont questioned, looking out the window with arms crossed.

  “Umm…well, sir. There’s only one prototype this time,” Keith said.

  “Haha! One? Hold on. Did—you—just—say…one?” Belmont snapped around with a big smile.

  “That’s it,” Keith said, smiling back and crossing his arms.

  “You mean to tell me, you had all this set up for one prototype to fail? I denied four of my men’s leave requests to haul them here…for this? You do know that drones and prototypes are our specialty, right? You had three of them last year, and how did that work out for you?” Belmont turned his back to them, shaking his head.

  “Not well,” Keith acknowledged. He dipped his head with his hands crossed out in front of him.

  “Exactly… Pshhh, we might as well go ahead and leave now,” Belmont said confidently.

  Lucas was silent during the conversation. He simply grinned politely, glancing back at Keith.

  “Ridiculous,” Belmont went on. “Fine, we’ll be up at 0700 and you or whoever can debrief my men on the situation. You can explain why they’re up here freezing for a single prototype’s testing,” Belmont said, leaving the room and snickering. “Whole lotta trouble for nothing, man.”

  As Belmont exited the room, Keith and Lucas looked at one another. Keith shrugged, shaking his head. “I’m not explaining anything to his men. I’ll let my prototype do the talking,” he said in a confident tone.