Echo Effect Complete Edition

by Robert D. Armstrong

  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 we’re 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 you 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 rearview 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’re 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 we got back what we did with the therapy,” 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 onl
y 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 opened 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. “Wild man, over here.”

  The man shook his head at himself, grinning. He seemed embarrassed. But suddenly his face 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 guardrail 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.

  Vala barreled forward for another quarter of a mile through the open field, bumping along the way. Ahead, she noticed an abandoned house tucked inside a thicket of trees. She stopped just before it. “Good a place as any,” she said.

  “Fine, we fight them here!” Michael roared.

  “Go inside that house and get a line of sight. We both know they’ll be coming from the freeway.” He pointed toward the road, then snapped the barrel to his energy rifle together, handing it over to her.

  Vala immediately dropped into a low military stance, spinning around, and scoping in with the energy rifle.

  “They know we’ll set up here. I’ll flank them. Let’s go, ten seconds,” he said. She noticed his titanium fangs gleaming in the moonlight as he spoke. During intense moments like this, he was quite terrifying to look at no matter how much she loved him.

  The dramatic lines of his skull resembled a metallic reaper, like something from the back of a biker gang’s jacket. He donned his hood, casting a shadow over his face, and disappeared in a flash. The sound of his long coat whipped in the wind as he dashed into the dark forest.

  Vala gazed out toward him, her enhanced vision struggled to follow his blazing speed. She took a deep breath and hurried to the old house with Michael’s rifle. As she approached, she noticed it was a one-story, red brick home, and part of the roof had collapsed in on itself.

  Vegetation had grown up all around, vines spreading wildly throughout the outer wall. Knee-high weeds and saplings littered the front yard. A pink and white tricycle was turned over by the porch, the wheel spokes rusted and warped. The front porch was a concrete pad with broken stepping stones leading from the old dirt driveway on the left.

  In a hurry, she noticed to the right of the front porch landing was a wreath, similar to something you’d see on a tomb. She glanced by as she darted toward an open window. ‘To my beloved family,’ the caption on the wreath said. Vala leaped through the open window, but while in midair, noticed a hole beneath her. The floor had collapsed. She braced her legs outward, nearly doing the splits on the outer edge of the pit that dropped into the basement. She nudged forward, clambering to her feet.

  She moved down to the adjacent window and sat down. Vala crossed her feet Indian style, propping Michael’s rifle on the window. Outside, she saw two sets of headlamps on the outer edge of the field, two trucks traveling side by side.

  The one in front stopped, then floored it across Vala’s line of sight killing the headlamps. “Shit.” She scrambled to the
opposite side of the house, stepping over pitfalls, toys, boxes, and ragged furniture, glaring out a broken window, careful to stay within the shadows.

  The two trucks rodeoed through the rugged terrain as if they were under fire, but neither Vala nor Michael had risked a shot. The vehicles disappeared into the tree line, taking away any advantage of a long-distance sniper.

  “They’re flanking us, Mike!” she yelled.

  Vala concentrated, listening to the faint rumble of the solar/diesel hybrid engines. One of them turned off, but the other continued idling, She heard two doors open and could almost make out the voices whispering between them. She glanced toward Michael as he ran out toward the attackers, putting himself between the attackers and Vala’s location. She followed him for several steps before he melted into the thick brush again.

  She peered into the darkness as sounds of rustling branches and footfalls erupted deep in the forest. Her enhanced hearing detected at least five attackers spread out in a V formation. She trained her rifle in the direction of the audible cues, waiting for them to peek out from the trees.

  “Watch your spacing, short, controlled bursts,” a rugged northwestern accent called out. The order told Vala and Michael two things. The men carried rapid-fire weapons and had military training. This was expected intelligence, but a valuable confirmation.

  “Who the hell are these guys?” Vala mumbled.

  “Shut up. Both of them can hear us.” Vala overheard the order. That must have been the Cilan, his own advanced hearing giving him insight to Vala’s.

  Ahead, she saw a figure prowling low. He wore all black and a hockey type mask. Around the eyes were built-in goggles that likely had a range of detection systems. He was very careful about his foot placement as his head swiveled in all directions. He motioned the other guards ahead toward the abandoned house.

  Suddenly, Vala’s eyes detected motion high in the trees. She snatched the rifle scope up and sighed.

  It was Michael. He’d scaled a tree above the pursuers and clung to the bark on her side, setting up an ambush. He was attempting to get her attention, gesturing off into the distance, away from the aggressors below him. She quickly shifted positions on the window’s ledge, aiming in the direction he signaled. She scoped in and panned around the forest, switching vision modes from night vision to infrared.