Echo Effect Complete Edition

by Robert D. Armstrong

  “Dammit!” He ran his hands over it. The thing had been scratched in by Saven’s claws. He stared it at for several moments, shaking his head in confusion, “How? Maybe it’s just a flash memory, coincidence, or random? I don’t know. Never seen that before.” Keith mumbled to himself.

  “Let’s just get through the damn drill.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucas was escorted back to his quarters, considering the drill was in active status. An agency guard walked him past the Marines as Belmont cut his eyes at him.

  “The Marines aren’t going to sleep?” Lucas questioned the guard.

  “They’re taking shifts, but are on call and can be on full alert at a moment’s notice. You know how it is, sir.” Lucas did a double take at the guard. He guessed he was ex-military. He just had the look. He had those faraway eyes that never completely unglued from some event set in his past.

  “So, what are you, ex…what?” Lucas asked.

  “Air Force. Scorns,” the guard replied. He had that look too, one couldn’t fake—modest, with cold eyes, but tough as nails.

  “Really? Huh, this sort of duty is a bit… grounded for you, isn’t it?” Lucas joked as the guard laughed.

  “Ha, indeed it is, sir. That’s exactly how I like it these days though,” the mid-forties Scorn replied. But anything was grounded for that soldier. Even though they didn’t have the full capability to explore the galaxy yet, the Scorns were the first operational soldiers trained specifically for space combat within our solar system.

  “Right, well, I hope this isn’t too boring for you. Have a good night. Maybe something exciting will happen,” Lucas said as they approached his quarters.

  “Maybe. We’ll see if Belmont destroys any more equipment. That’s about all the excitement we get to see on our end. Have a good night,” the Scorn joked as Lucas entered his room.

  “Good luck.” Lucas smirked. He shut the door to his quarters then it locked automatically. He turned the handle only to realize a display flickered at eye level. “Drill in session, Mr. Anderson. Would you like to page a guard for an escort?”

  “No, no,” he replied.

  “Thank you.” The text display acknowledged his voice then turned off. Clearly, the installation was built around much older technology. It wasn’t even a holographic display.

  Getting in his bed, he was reminded of being back on a naval warship again. The bed was small with an ultra-thin mattress that might as well have been a slab of plywood. He pulled out a small tablet, breathing on it. His condensation unlocked the display, illuminating part of the room with a blue tint.

  “Welcome, Lucas Anderson,” a pleasant female voice greeted. Lucas’ pupils guided the 3D interface as it rotated and closed various applications to reveal his message inbox. He opened the top message, which was from his assistant.

  “Mr. Anderson. Just wanted to let you know the asset is fine. All the readings are perfect. We’ll see you when you return. Stay warm... if that’s even possible!”

  “A comfortable bed, that’s what isn’t possible,” Lucas said, shifting around.

  Like SolarSystems, the Fifth Column had its secrets. Lucas found things on his expeditions that he wanted to guard closely. So close that even his business partners didn’t know about them. Most of it was military related, however, one of his secrets was much different.

  So different that it would alter the course of human history forever.

  Lucas’ role in the Star Rust race seemed specialized to SolarSystems. At first, Dr. Amery saw Lucas as a connected soldier more than an entrepreneur or idealist, but over the years, he began to become more suspicious. Lucas had a first responder position. Amery had no idea what they found in the field, he simply had to take Lucas at his word.

  On one of Lucas’ very first missions, before he had officially founded his organization, he discovered a fully intact escape pod from the alien craft. Lucas kept the information about what was inside away from SolarSystems and the entire world.

  Maintaining SolarSystems as a partner meant keeping a close eye on them. Lucas understood that Amery viewed his organization as nothing more than a bunch of well-equipped treasure hunters, but he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

  The reality was, Lucas didn’t need SolarSystems. He’d held the key to technological advancement for years.

  Another reason Lucas kept SolarSystems around was because he needed a behaviorism expert for what he’d found. He had known Keith through the grapevine, and most everyone had great things to say. However, he needed to get in on the ground level with Keith and enter his comfort zone. Lucas needed to be sure.

  Keith was perfect for the job, really. He had such a variety of training and skillsets that seemed custom tailored for what Lucas needed. Not to mention his tenacity and devotion to the ECHO project. The ECHO was about as close to alien as it came. But despite that, Lucas had to make sure.

  After all, Lucas wanted to hire him for one of the most important jobs the human race had ever known—the first interaction specialist between us and them.

  ***

  Several hours later, three Marines headed down to a hanger bay to recover the crippled drone, Icepick. Their mission was to repair his sensor array and use him as a mobile radar. His weapon systems would probably have to wait for repair.

  “Still can’t believe Icepick survived that avalanche, not to mention made his way back here,” the corporal said.

  “Yeah. That fucking robot is more of an asset to the Marines than you are,” the other corporal joked to his comrade, pushing him in the corridor.

  They started to horseplay, wrestling around for a moment until their superior, Sergeant Martin, put a stop to it. “Guys, chill out! You know Belmont has access to all these cameras, so quit it,” Sergeant Martin ordered. “You’re making life worse than it already is.”

  “That’s pretty damn bad then,” one of them joked.

  “Shut. Your. Hole,” Martin demanded, cutting him down with his eyes.

  Sergeant Martin was in command of this squad. He was much more seasoned than the two young Marines. He’d seen three combat tours, but his rank didn’t show it. At the very least, he should have been a staff sergeant. He was about average height and build, with thin blond hair and fair skin. He had a birthmark just above the right side of his lip about the size of a half dollar.

  Sergeant Martin was the only Marine in Belmont’s unit that testified against him for assault charges, and since then Martin’s life had been hell. Belmont couldn’t get rid of him with a transfer because Martin was one of only three Marines that understood the drone’s navigational systems completely.

  Since Belmont couldn’t transfer Martin, he tortured him by giving him Marines in the unit with the lowest performance marks which affected his statistics. As elite as these Marines were, they still had bad apples that barely scraped by, and Martin got them all.

  The two corporals traded obscenities and shoved each other one last time before obeying Martin’s order. Up ahead, the long corridor ran into a large hanger. Several vintage Osprey military aircraft were littered about, being stripped for parts it appeared. Looters had also pinched parts before the military reacquired the installation for drone testing.

  “Damn, look at all this. There’s probably shit in this hanger that would make us rich. Some of these parts are probably worth five years of our salary,” the corporal joked.

  “Really? Well, how do you reckon you’ll get those parts past Garza’s inspection when we leave? Not to mention the x-ray scanners when we get back to Camp Lejeune?” Martin pointed out. He stopped in the middle of the hall, waiting for an answer. The corporal was at a loss for words.

  “That’s right. Shut up, Corporal. You ain’t gonna do shit. Always looking for an easy way out,” Martin said, silencing him. The corporal simply snapped away, scratching his chin.

  The corporal remained silent while his comrade snickered. “What a dumbass. You’re a Marine parts smuggler now?”

&nbs
p; “You know, on another note, I wouldn’t mind if Garza’s inspections were a bit more personal, if you know what I mean.” The corporal stuck out his tongue.

  Martin stopped dead in his tracks. “No, what do you mean?”

  “I mean, maybe she could check my boxers next time. I got something hiding in there she might—”

  Martin burst toward the Marine, shoving him in the chest and knocking him down. “That woman would stomp your ass in five seconds.”

  “Ahhh, shit—I’d let her.” He smiled, slowly picking himself up.

  “Get up, you dumb drone. That’s some typical sexist bullshit right there. It would be best for you if you started respecting your superiors. When we get done here, you’ll be scrubbing the head for the rest of your service.” Martin gave the grunt a final kick with the toe of his boot and turned to continue on their path.

  They made their way through the hanger, eyeing a vehicle bay door in the corner.

  Martin walked over to the bay door, pulling up his holomap. “Okay. Looks like Icepick should be right outside this door.”

  He pressed the door switch, but initially it didn’t open. It seemed to be jammed from either lack of use or the freezing temperature… or a combination of both. He slammed his rifle’s stock against the switch and it flashed open.

  “See, that’s how people did things back then—you’d just smash it,” Martin joked.

  The motor yanked the door up slowly. The wind exhaled into the hanger, freezing the air. Snowflakes skipped across the concrete surface. They could see Icepick obscured in the distance. He was stopped about fifty meters from the door.

  “Did Icepick really just stop there? Why is he so far away?” the corporal questioned. The wind howled intensely, swaying the drone’s five-foot tall crippled frame back and forth as they looked him over from inside.

  “I don’t know. His navigation system is up and running, but he’s not communicating. Ugh. Send a force order for him to pull inside. Hurry up. This air is cold!” Martin ordered in a rushed, annoyed tone.

  “I’m already on it.” The corporal keyed in the command on his tablet, causing Icepick to lunge forward awkwardly before leveling out his speed, almost as if he was attempting to refuse the order.

  “Whoa. Did he just try to negate that order?” Martin said with a confused look on his face.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. His tracks are probably warped with all that weight being smashed down on him. I mean, he was in an avalanche,” the corporal said.

  “Thanks for the clarification, Corporal. Anytime I need a smartass, it’s comforting to know you’ll never let me down,” Martin said.

  As Icepick got closer to the door, they could hear his damaged motor churning. It was normally silent. The sensor array atop his head was dangling by a set of wires, and his guns were mangled beyond recognition.

  “All right, he’s in. Shut that damn snow blower of a door!” Martin ordered.

  The corporal walked over and smashed the door’s control just like he was taught. Sure enough, it worked, closing twice as fast as it opened.

  “You do have basic cognitive ability. Amazing,” Martin joked.

  “I thought I was the smartass?” the corporal replied, raising his eyebrows.

  The door slammed, instantly silencing the howling wind, like pressing a mute button. All they could hear was Icepick’s hybrid motor running.

  “Well, the battery powered motor is toast. He’s running nothing but diesel,” Martin observed.

  “Let’s shut him down. We can at least get his sensors up and running,” the corporal said while scanning over the battered drone.

  “Ohhhh wha...”

  Suddenly, Martin heard a thud. He panned over to see his corporal lying on the ground, foaming at the mouth. Then, before the other corporal could assess the situation, a jolt rocked him from behind, knocking him out.

  “Shit!” Martin raised his rifle, calling in for support. “This is fire team Alpha. I need immediate—”

  In one motion, his rifle was smacked to the ground violently, his helmet knocked off and flung across the hanger. This ceased communication with his fellow Marines. The large, vacant hanger echoed every sound. He could clearly hear his Marines’ response inside the helmet from twenty meters away. “Sergeant Martin? What’s going on? Please respond!” Garza called out from inside Martin’s helmet, far from his reach.

  Suddenly, a large talon-like foot appeared, uncloaking just in front of him. Quarter-sized hexagon panels materialized, which then began to take shape and color, unveiling the prototype’s true form from bottom to top.

  “Oh God.”

  His talons mashed down on Martin’s weapon, crushing it like a toy. The sound echoed across the hanger as Martin stood frozen.

  Saven kicked the broken pieces under Martin’s feet. Despite all Martin’s training, the rallying from his comrades, and the fact this was just a drill—he couldn’t focus. None of that mattered. He sat down on the deck and buried his face in his knees like a young child, completely petrified.

  Belmont dashed over to the control station and immediately brought up the hanger’s camera to see what was happening.

  “Oh, whaaaat the hell… Get fire team support down there ASAP! GO!” Belmont ordered. His eyelid quivered while watching the camera. He could feel Martin’s terror, even over the fuzzy video feed. The prototype was in full view for the first time.

  Saven’s posture morphed, appearing very primal and dominating. He towered over Martin, hunching in like a wild animal playing with its prey. His face was inches away from Martin’s, basking in his fear, breathing on him. Saven’s long metal canine teeth were directly in front of Martin’s eyes as he slowly panned across his face. Martin could see saliva streaming from his mouth. He could feel the warm condensation on his skin.

  Belmont quickly signaled to Garza to get a team in there ASAP. “GO!”

  “What’s it doing?” Garza peeked her head up.

  “I don’t know, but we should use this as an opportunity while it’s distracted,” Belmont said.

  Martin could feel Saven breathing on his face. The stench was terrible, that of rot. He glared up at Saven to show he wasn’t afraid, but he had to look away. Saven appeared supernatural, like a demonic wraith. With fangs and glowing green eyes, he was the thing of nightmares. Part machine, part hell-spawn.

  “J-J-Just do whatever you’re going to do! Go ahead!” Martin begged, closing his eyes and expecting the worst. Belmont watched as the ECHO prototype vanished into the shadows on camera.

  “Where’d it go?” Belmont demanded, staring at Garza.

  “Sir... I don’t... see it,” Garza replied.

  Martin gritted his teeth and braced for the worst, but it never happened. After several seconds, he opened his eyes to find nothing but his unconscious allies. His eyes were watering, his hands were shaking, and he was covered in a cold sweat. Despite Belmont and his men’s distance from Saven, they too had been affected by what they saw.

  “Whoa, what the hell was that thing? That’s no drone,” one of the younger corporals said, getting a quick glimpse of the crowd. His eyes darted away from the rest of the Marines, his heart racing, while his mind attempted to make sense of the anomaly.

  “That can’t be real. That’s not what we’re fighting, right?” Someone else gasped.

  Belmont turned around. “Go back to your stations! Get away from the screen!”

  Many of the Marines walked back slowly with a grim look on their faces. Those who didn’t see Saven began asking questions.

  “What...what was it? Who got a look at it? I didn’t see anything?” a Marine asked.

  That was exactly the effect SolarSystems wanted to inflict on the human psyche—The Echo Effect. Fear and confusion so powerful it reverberated through Saven’s enemies like shockwaves.

  This was training. None of the shots fired were lethal, but you couldn’t tell Martin that. He didn’t even expect the ECHO prototype to be anywhere near them. None of the se
nsors picked up anything. It just didn’t seem possible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Up in the observation booth, Agent Casser had his finger on Saven’s kill switch, making sure the war game didn’t go overboard. It wasn’t likely, the ECHO prototype was programmed to preserve friendly units at all costs, but Casser was ready. Just in case.

  “Did anyone else pick up on that?” Casser questioned his team. They were all wide eyed and watching the video feed.

  “The marines’ sensors didn’t pick up a single thing. Why? Any ideas? Anyone have a theory?” Casser paused, seeming to bask in the puzzled look of his subordinates.

  “His proximity to Icepick. Hitching a ride on the drone concealed Saven’s electronic signature,” Agent Niven confidently answered. By his tone, he knew his answer was correct or a damn good guess.

  “Exactly. Genius strategy, actually. Saven literally traveled within ten meters of the other drones on the way back, riding on Icepick, yet nothing suspicious was reported. Our sensors here never picked it up either. Nothing,” Casser said.

  “Icepick couldn’t communicate that something was wrong. He was sent back on forced override orders. I’m not 100% sure Icepick knew anything with his sensors being damaged, but the drone was acting unusual, almost like he was trying to warn the Marines,” Niven said.

  “That’s certainly possible.” Casser shrugged, raising his eyebrows.

  “That is just…unbelievable. Have you ever seen artificial intelligence do anything this creative?” Agent Niven questioned.

  “Who said it was artificial intelligence?” Casser posed. “I thought you were checking to see if any encrypted signals were being transmitted from a remote location?”

  “Everyone, pay attention to Garza’s camera. Listen to what they are talking about, not just the action. She’s going down to assess the situation,” Casser said.

  Two Marine fire teams entered the hanger, fanning out to secure it. Garza walked over to the downed Marines. They were groggy, but recovering. “Get up. You guys are sitting the rest out in the penalty box,” Garza ordered.