Echo Effect Complete Edition

by Robert D. Armstrong

  The downed Marines glared at each other in surprise. “Penalty box, how? What happened?”

  “You guys are done. Report to the penalty box for the rest of the drill. We’d be cleaning up your blood if this was real,” Garza said, scratching her forehead.

  Some young soldier shrugged and shouldered his weapon. “There’s really not much they could have done, Staff Sergeant Garza.”

  “Why do you say that, Corporal?”

  “The prototype was invisible, both physically and electronically.”

  “Hmm,” she said suspiciously.

  “Clear! Nothing here, Sergeant. It’s gone,” the Marines sounded off, securing the hanger.

  “Sergeant Martin?” Garza said. Her fellow Marine was still sitting on the deck, unresponsive and terrified.

  “Sergeant Martin!” Garza yelled. “I know you can hear me. Get up and help your corporal back to the penalty box. You were in charge here. It’s the least you can do.”

  Martin swayed to his feet, glancing at his comrades. His blue eyes were bloodshot and distant. One of the corporals questioned Martin as he assisted them. “What was it? Did you get a good look?”

  “Yeah. I saw it. Up close. And you don’t wanna see it. It looked like a walking nightmare—” Martin started.

  Garza closed the distance explosively, interrupting Martin by shoving her finger in his face and grabbing his collar. “Shut up. No one asked you to come down here and fuck this up, did they? If you say another word about that thing, I’ll leave you here with it,” Garza threatened.

  She was stern with her words but kept her voice down. Maybe she felt there was no need to humiliate the ranking Marine further in front of subordinates.

  “I have no idea why it even left you in the game, but you’re here, and we’ll need you,” Garza said.

  “Um, thanks, Garza. Can you...let go of my collar?” Martin suggested, looking down at his shirt.

  Garza released him.

  They had served in combat together back when they were just lance corporals. Garza was given the honor of command Sergeant over Martin, and it created a bit of tension between them. But nothing they couldn’t work out. They were friends at one point. Good friends.

  Martin’s reaction to the prototype was humiliating, considering his experience in real combat. The plan was to come to the Crucible, plow through the opposition and get back to base. He had one simple job, and the whole damn thing fell apart on him.

  “Hey, Martin. Look, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Garza said.

  “Not after the shit we’ve been through,” Martin said.

  Sergeant Martin wasn’t due for a blemish on his reputation. Ten years in the Corps and he was just now up for staff sergeant—dishearteningly slow advancement. He’d shown early signs of post-traumatic stress disorder and suicidal tendencies. But after some time, he’d sought regular counseling and was on the road to recovery.

  “We got this. I’m telling you guys, it’ll slip up sooner or later. This thing can only be sneaky for so long,” Garza said, panning around at her men.

  Martin raised his eyebrows in disagreement, peering over at her. “I like the confidence. I really do.”

  “Good. Maybe if you had some of it, you’d have another rocker on your sleeve, Sergeant,” Garza said.

  “Would I, Staff Sergeant?” Martin said. He knew that regardless of his efforts, Belmont was keeping him down.

  “Maybe, but then you’d have to get rid of that sourpuss attitude,” she said.

  “So does sourpuss mean not Belmont’s little bitch?”

  “Ha!” Garza smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Martin. You get your ass handed to you, but you fire right back.”

  “Oh, that’s what you liked about me all these years?”

  “That and the STD above your lip that you call a birthmark,” she said as a couple of her Marines busted out in laughter.

  “You had to go there with the birthmark, didn’t you? You just couldn’t resist?” Martin replied. He didn’t look happy. It was bad enough being humiliated by the prototype, and now Garza was adding fuel to the fire.

  “Staff Sergeant Garza!” A young Marine cupped his hands across the hanger.

  “What?”

  “Can we go back now? That thing is out here somewhere and our forces are split up,” he said.

  Garza cocked her head at Martin. “See, it’s rubbing off on my Marines now.”

  “Fuck off, Garza,” Martin said, cutting his eyes at her. He wasn’t joking either.

  “I love you too, Martin.”

  Martin and the rest of the Marines reentered the command station after dropping off his downed corporals in the penalty box to wait out the rest of the drill. Martin plopped down in one of the operator’s chairs, exhausted. Belmont watched his body language like a hawk in front of the young, impressionable Marines. He cut his eyes over at Martin.

  Martin instantly started to babble. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news… I do… But you guys are screwed. That thing isn’t like anything we’ve trained for. It’s not. I’m telling ya, it’s fast, it’s smart, and it’s going to pick us apart,” he said.

  Martin paused. He could see Belmont’s unsympathetic reaction with his arms crossed. Martin still had the attention of the young Marines. “I didn’t even see it. The thing jumped off Icepick and dropped my men before I could even react. We might as well just forfeit and go ho—” Martin stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widened.

  Suddenly, Belmont snatched a rifle from the nearest Marine. He shot Martin in the chest with a stun round at close range. The force blew his cap off and spun him around in his chair, knocking him unconscious onto the floor.

  “Holy shit,” some young corporal mumbled.

  The rest of Marines in the control room froze and complete silence ensued. Everyone stared at Martin’s body as drool began to stream from his mouth.

  Belmont paced for several steps, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

  “Clean that fucking infection off my deck... NOW! Before anyone else gets it!” Belmont roared.

  Garza hesitated, but signaled two Marines toward Martin’s body. “S-Send him down to the penalty box. You heard him,” she said.

  Two Marines rolled Martin onto a stretcher and carried him off. Belmont stared at Garza for a few seconds.

  “Garza,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” she responded glaring at ground. Belmont pointed outside the room. “Come on,” he said. She followed close behind as they walked outside the control room. The remaining Marines followed them with their eyes.

  “Everybody get on your stations; the drill is still active!” Belmont snapped just before he and Garza exited. He slammed the door behind Garza.

  “Now listen… you and I both know how this works,” he said. He put this hand on the top of the doorframe as she stood up straight at attention.

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied.

  “We’ve seen this a dozen times. Remember North Korea? If we let one person start that bullshit, we lose. Many of these guys are untested. They don’t know what we know about combat. You’ve seen it since you were young. How old were you when you first fired a gun in combat?” Belmont asked.

  “Before my first kiss,” she replied.

  “See. At ease, Staff Sergeant. These guys don’t understand that sort of life. They have to fear me more than that… thing… whatever the hell it is. I had to make an example of Martin,” he gushed. Garza sniffed and jerked her thumb at the Marines through the glass.

  Belmont cut her off. “Look, I don’t expect you to lead exactly like me, I don’t. What I do expect is you to obey without question. You’re second in command. I don’t won’t any hints in your eyes that you disagree. If I can see it, so can they. I have my style and I don’t give a shit who disagrees. Matter of fact, you see me questioning how you lead?” Belmont asked.

  “No, sir,” she said.

  “Exactly, some of the shit you do I don’t always
like, but you get the fucking job done,” Belmont said. He focused in on her eyes, pointing sternly at her.

  “I understand completely, sir.”

  “Good.”

  There was no exception to the rule, friend or foe. When you’re out at the Crucible, you’re out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back at Keith’s station, he awoke to a page from Casser.

  “We now have three Marines down. Phase two is in full swing. All non-essential personnel, stay in your designated areas. The prototype and Marine elements are aware of these restricted areas, so stay put,” Casser ordered, meeting eyes with each of his subordinates.

  “Whoooa!” Keith said, wiping his head and smacking the display’s feed. Saven’s camera started working. The image was flickering but visible.

  “Phase two already?” Keith said.

  Lucas entered the room, escorted by one of the guards. “Great news, huh?” Lucas said excitedly.

  “Yeah, but I have no idea how Michael made it here undetected,” Keith said.

  Lucas paused, staring at Keith. “You just called it Michael.”

  “Well, you know what I mean. Saven... using Michael’s innovative human mind,” Keith recovered.

  “I get it,” Lucas said, smiling.

  “Well, let’s watch the show! We have his camera working again. Have a seat,” Keith suggested.

  Casser focused on Saven’s camera for a while.

  Oddly, Saven was still in the hanger where Martin’s team was attacked. He was watching the Marines from above, waiting in the rafters. He seemed to be assessing their tactics and response time.

  After an hour, Saven found a weak spot in the ceiling. He pressed up on it, breaking through to the roof. Normally, he would have used his plasma saber to slice through, but it was disengaged for the drill. He leapt up on top of the roof then looked down as snow fell through the hole he’d just created. He lowered his body, stalking like a cat across the roof.

  Snow was falling hard as he looked out into the distance. He could see some of the brute drones surrounding the base. They were looking down below him, unaware of his presence. He skimmed along the side of the roof, looking toward a set of buildings below him.

  He jumped off, projecting his shards into a wing formation, gliding to the adjacent building. Considering all the metal, he landed gracefully and with precision. He pressed forward, leaping gaps of fifteen meters between structures. Saven stalked low and moved meticulously across the rooftops to an old office building, clambering through a broken window.

  He was moving closer to his final target.

  He could hear the classic sound of perimeter defenses ahead. A pulsing audio cue was being emitted, the tick tock of a drone’s sensor panning back and forth. He eased around a corner, spotting a small motion detecting drone about a meter tall. It looked like a metallic bullet shaped trash can. Saven strolled right out in front of the stationary robot and stood there. The drone whipped toward him, alerting the Marines of his location.

  “That looked... intentional,” Lucas said, watching the video feed.

  “Oh, no doubt. He clearly saw that drone before walking in front of it,” Keith noted.

  “I’d think so.”

  “What’s he doing now?” Lucas asked.

  Saven kneeled down in front of the detection drone and stared at it. He pushed it with his claws as it rocked back and forth. He jumped around it like a cat playing with its food. It rolled down the hall as he chased it, smacking it around as it clanked against the walls.

  “Really?” Lucas smirked.

  “Yeah. That’s just what he does from time to time. Saven’s genetic fusion from the UNIMEL affects his behavior in odd ways. Jaguars are lethal predators, but as you can see, they’re still cats,” Keith said smiling. He shrugged his shoulders as Lucas shook his head side to side.

  The drone’s alarm blared louder. This seemed to annoy Saven. He ran it down, swatting it into the air as its red lights and sirens echoed off the walls. He shot it midflight with a stun round and it crashed to the floor, pieces of metal exploded everywhere. Electricity shot out of the drone’s front sensor as it shook violently.

  “Looks like he’s making a whole lotta noise down there,” Lucas joked.

  “Yeah, that’s about as intentional as it gets, but at least it looks like he’s having fun,” Keith said.

  Saven stopped after destroying the drone, peering toward the Marine’s station and waiting. He activated his cloak, vanishing into the silvery surfaces like a camouflaged predator.

  “Here we go!” Casser said, looking around the control room and rubbing his hands together. He panned over toward Belmont’s cameras.

  Belmont immediately ordered fire teams to the location. “Fire team Blue, I’ll need a situational report as soon as you get down there,” Captain Belmont ordered.

  The Marines jumped to the challenge.

  “Staff Sergeant Garza, you lead them this time,” Belmont said confidently.

  “Locked, cocked and ready to rock, sir!” She raised her weapon. Garza led out in front, exiting the control room and rushing toward the prototype.

  The Marines stacked up in formation outside the hall where Saven was spotted, slowly clearing it.

  “This place is completely abandoned, Sergeant.”

  “Sir, we don’t have anything down here, and it was supposedly just here,” Garza responded.

  Back at the station, Belmont had his command team scroll through the sensors and cameras for any signs of the prototype.

  “Keep searching. He’s there,” Belmont ordered.

  Sweat was dripping down Garza’s forehead. As cold as it was outside, she was feeling the heat where she was. She knew the prototype only had two routes that led to Belmont, and her team was the only defense for one of them.

  “Ah, really? Well, there it goes. It cut the power,” Garza said. “Switching to night vision.”

  As soon as the light sensor dropped below a certain reading, the Marine’s helmets automatically extended a holographic visor over their eyes. The visor lit up the dark room as if it was daylight while detecting movement better than the human eye.

  “Cutting the power? That’s old-school.” One of the blue team corporals laughed. His head was shaking while he said it, but maybe humor helped him deal with the situation.

  “It has to know we have night vision. That’s nearly a hundred-year-old technology,” another Marine responded.

  “Shut up. Of course it knows we have night vision, it’s attempting to make us feel reliant on technology, which is exactly what it represents… a changing of the guard,” Garza said.

  Blue team crept around the winding installation. Covering every possible angle, they glided through a set of abandoned offices and found a ceiling fan still slowing after the power cut. The team lead peered around the cabinets and desks, hunting for any signs of activity.

  The dust in the room was over an inch thick. Tablets and computers were left behind in the scramble to evacuate. To a horror fan, the scene looked like something out of zombie film. These people left everything in a panic.

  And what a panic it must have been. North Korea lobbed tactical nuclear weapons not seventy-five miles from their very location. The fear of imminent fallout must have been terrifying.

  One corporal happened to look out the window into the light snowfall. “What the hell? The drones...look at ‘em!”

  Oddly, the remaining drones just surrounded that part of the building, pointing their guns toward them as if they knew something was there, but it was too late. The drones weren’t allowed to participate in phase two.

  “They’re just… looking at us,” another corporal said.

  One of the Marines yelled from the back of the formation. “Yeah, well, they can’t help us now. They should have done their damn jobs and we wouldn’t be dealing with this.”

  Someone whispered in the eerie silence. “I’m not gonna lie, this whole thing is creeping me the fuck out.”

/>   “Cut the chatter and push forward. It could have only gone one direction. Let’s show it what we’re about and go home,” Garza ordered.

  Two of the Marines looked toward one another after Garza’s comment, assessing each other’s reaction. Neither appeared confident, but they didn’t dare respond and show a lack of sureness either. They were Marines. Confidence was the uniform of the day, every day.

  Luckily, Garza fit the bill, inside and out. “You weak minded new guys are gonna let this thing get inside your heads? Really? A drone? Listen, it took out a couple of brutes with an avalanche. That’s cute. It took out Martin’s guys when they weren’t paying attention. Wow. Let’s see how it deals with devil dogs sniffing for its ass.”

  “This is our turf, and this is what we do!” Garza barked with confidence.

  “Ooo-Rah!” The corporals bellowed out in unison.

  Belmont and the few operators left could hear Garza’s speech. “That’s what I’m talking about, people! That’s a real Marine with confidence right there,” Belmont said, looking around at his Marines. “Let that be an example.”

  Garza ordered her men to push forward. They continued on in formation, pushing toward a slightly ajar door into some type of huge lab. The lead corporal eased the door open, but it creaked loudly the slower he pressed it.

  Wham! Garza ran up and slammed it open. “I don’t think it matters, does it?” she said, smirking.

  “Whhaaat the hell is this place?” one of the lance corporals whispered.

  “I didn’t get to see this before. We never had a prototype even make it to the installation phase, so we never got to explore. Remember trigger discipline, folks. Short, controlled bursts,” Garza said.

  They made their way into a large room with high ceilings. The walls, floor, and ceiling appeared to be an aluminum alloy. Around the outer wall were metallic tables with lab microscopes and computers.

  In the middle of the room, dozens of massive, elevated glass containers stood evenly throughout the room. They looked like huge fish tanks of some sort. Backup emergency green lights highlighted the interiors of the tanks. Some of them weren’t working while others strobed and flickered.