The Armageddon Effect

by Ric Dawson

  “Okay, that’s enough out of the metalloid in my head. Go back to sleep.”

  Slipping into the psi was easy now between the practice and enhancements of alien tech. I drifted up above the grav sled and started to head towards the buildings, when I stopped.

  “What the…” I gaped at my attire.

  I wore a Hawaiian hula skirt and coconut bra with a Brazilian carnival headpiece of brilliant blue peacock feathers splayed in a V-shape above my head. A child’s rainbow-colored cowboy holster complete with water pistol sat at my side.

  Not threatening enough?

  “Oh for God’s sakes, would you change that into something more appropriate. I’m supposed to be scary, not laughable.”

  I don’t know. It looks pretty scary to me.

  “Ninja uniform, now!”

  Pfft, you’re so … pedantic.

  With the wardrobe changes in place, I floated over the snow towards the installation. A perimeter fence loomed ahead. I flew over the fence and sidled up to the nearest building. The installation covered miles on a side. A thin metal grating covered most of the buildings. Faraday cage?

  Floating up to get a view from the top, I saw that the grating and slant of the buildings made the installation look like the small ridge outcroppings found on the tundra. A large helipad had two massive helicopters that bristled with weapons. No roads led into the facility.

  Roads were too easy to spot with satellites, I presumed. I headed over to the helipad.

  “Audam. What type of helicopters are those?”

  They have the MI-35 Hind design. But the weapons I don’t recognize.

  No psionic defense protected the facility so far.

  I slipped into the wall next to an entryway. Inside was a corridor with a plaque in Russian.

  “Audam. Can you read that?”

  Yes.

  “What does it say?”

  Armored Atomics Research facility, Danger – Radiation Hazard.

  “Thanks. You knew I wanted that detail without asking.”

  (silence)

  “Friggin’ metalloid.”

  It’s good practice to be clear in your communications.

  The corridor led into a large open area filled with machinery, robotic assemblers, and computers. Technicians swarmed five modified Russian tanks. Robotic arms whirled about each tank in the assembly area. A fat cylinder made of coils replaced the tank’s main gun. A smaller tube sat in the center of the barrel. Eight smaller, evenly spaced tubes surrounded the outside of the barrel. A transparent material made up the turret and allowed embedded sensors a full three-sixty view. Three rings below the turret rotated independent of the main gun. Four snub-nosed nozzles poked from each ring.

  Mortar tubes perched on the tank’s flank alongside rotating tubes resembling missile launchers. The tank ran on conventional metal tracks.

  It was a beast, that was clear. I moved in for a closer look inside. Hovering over the open turret, I could see the tank had no room for people. It was all metal tubes, ammo, gizmos and other electronics. A cube-shaped computer suspended in spongy material sat in the middle.

  Armed guards stood in three-man fire teams along the walls. Something caught my eye on the guards. I floated closer. Each guard had a metallic eye with a prismatic iris. Part of the guard’s helmet merged with his skull. Lights blinked over a metal exoskeleton that covered arms, chest, and legs. These weren’t Wraith troops. The uniform was not black. It was gray and white snow-camo. Cyborgs?

  The rank insignia is similar to the Osnaz Russian military intelligence units.

  “Soviet special forces units under their intelligence directorate aka KGB-FSB?”

  Yes, but there is an additional designation. “AA” with lightning bolts on either side.

  “What does that mean?”

  Unknown

  “Are there other floors?”

  Three below, one above.

  “Whoa. This place is huge.”

  Battalion strength and it appears self-contained.

  I passed through the floor into barracks and troop support facilities. The next level down was a vast storage hangar filled with completed tanks and man-sized metallic spheres. On one side a large freight elevator moved equipment to the surface.

  Hydroponic gardens and livestock filled the bottom level. Vats of slime algae sat next to pens of different animals. Some animals were part machine, with tubes permanently connected to teats that pumped out volumes of thick white milk in continuous flows. Other animals were clearly used as xeno-transplant hosts and had slumps in their skin over long scars where organs had been removed. Fattened animals had tubes for mouths that inserted into slots in the vats. Row after row of pens filled the entire floor of the underground complex. Some of the animals had no limbs, and wires led to muscle groups on the body to stimulate muscle contraction.

  “What the frack are those?”

  Genetically modified yaks, bear, moose, and reindeer. This floor is a complete genetic engineering area.

  “I’m gonna be sick.”

  I was never an animal rights activist, but genetic manipulation just seemed wrong.

  Floating back through the ceiling, I headed up to the top floor. A part of me thrilled that I could just float around unseen.

  The top floor was the command and control area. I floated through corridors of officers and techs hovering over computer screens or working in teams on some project or another. While my vision was unimpaired, I could not hear conversations. When I floated through someone, sometimes they stopped and looked around like an unknown sensation tickled their senses.

  I floated into a large area with workstations that circled a large wall-sized screen. On the screen, scattered dots indicated installations around Russia and surrounding countries, all labeled “AA” with various sub-designations.

  The largest dot was labeled “AA Kazahk” in Astana, Kazahkstan. My eyes traveled down the map.

  “Jesus. These guys have installations all over.”

  Yes.

  Three spots down towards the bottom right of the screen were blinking with yellow ring highlights around them. I moved closer.

  They were labeled “W HQ Minato,” “W Naval Shiomicko,” and “W Sun Dust Aogashima.”

  “The Russians know about Wraith? That ‘W’ means Wraith, right? Do you think the Russians are working with Wraith?”

  Unknown.

  “Sheesh, you’re as useful as a two-legged table.”

  I’m not omniscient.

  “Wow, I’d better jot down the date to remind you next time you start spewing how smart you are.”

  (silence)

  I floated around several more workstations when a ticker-style message began scrolling across the bottom of the large display in the command center.

  *Operation SUN DUST initialized – CME ignition T minus 3 days.* :: Aogashima

  “Any idea what that might mean?”

  Aogashima is a small island south of Japan.

  “That’s it?”

  So far. Would you stop nagging. Gah.

  More searching produced nothing else useful. I floated out of the building and back to where the team hunkered down.

  LAKE BAIKAL

  I opened my eyes.

  “Our intrepid scout is back!” Kane called out.

  “Outstanding!” Jim hollered back. He climbed over some chests and headed our way.

  The rest of the team huddled around to get within earshot. The kids were up top of the crates playing with some handheld devices.

  “The facility covers roughly twenty-five square miles according to Audam. It has three sub levels, a ground level, and one elevated level. Insignia looked like Russia special forces, but not one Audam recognized. They have some amazing devices inside. A cyber tank of some kind, androids, and some man-sized combat spheres. Don’t know what they do. In the command center I spotted a reference to ‘W’ in three locations. I’m not sure if they are Wraith facilities or not. Oh also, something about an
operation Sun Dust and CME occurring at Aogashima island.”

  “We should take the facility out if it’s associated with Wraith,” Jim said, scratching his chin.

  “Jim, we have children with us. Oh. And. It’s a battalion-strength base with weird cyborgs inside!” Melissa retorted haughtily.

  “Yes,” Jim frowned. Then smirked at Melissa. “Guess that might be a bit much. Anyone have any idea what Sun Dust and CME ignition might mean?”

  TJ cleared her throat. “Well, using those two words together, Sun and CME could refer to a coronal mass ejection.”

  “They are trying to cause a CME?” Jim gaped. “I remember seeing that on Nova. Bad stuff, but I don’t remember the details.”

  “Well, maybe there’s a connection,” TJ said.

  “What’s a CME?” Molly asked.

  TJ loved to talk science. She unconsciously adjusted her glasses then spoke. “Well, a coronal mass ejection is what it sounds like. Solar material, high temperature gas, plasma, radiation, and powerful magnetic fields spew out from the sun. Small CMEs happen all the time. A large CME that struck the Earth could disrupt power grids, all electromagnetic transmissions, and communication over the entire continent. Imagine, no banking, no phones, no cars that had electronic components, no internet, no lights or anything that relies on electronics. All gone.

  “Many would die in the ensuing panic. People would struggle for food and water.” TJ’s tone was grim.

  “Oh,” was all Molly could say, consternation creasing her smooth dimples.

  “Why would Wraith plan to ignite a CME event when they could blow everyone up with nukes?” I asked.

  “Maybe Wraith launched the nukes to get rid of them and disrupt communication before continental invasion,” Jim offered.

  “We’re missing something. Other nations have nukes, plus there’s our naval fleet and subs, bombers as well,” I said. “Most of the U.S. nuclear missiles are not in land-based silos.”

  “It’s the satellites.” Jeff frowned. “They are killing communications worldwide with high-energy electromagnetic pulses.”

  “Dammit, it makes sense though. Without communications, nations’ military units wouldn’t have a clue what was going on,” Jim said.

  “It sounds like we have three days to knock out Aogashima and kill the Wraith CME threat,” Kane said with clenched jaw.

  “Guys. Something’s happening on the base,” Melissa yelled and pointed to the distant fence line. She shouldered the strange weapon and moved to the edge of the shield on Sven’s sled. She touched something with her feet, opening a plate-sized hole in the shield facing the base. Sven jumped to the sled controls while Molly hustled the children into the center of the craft.

  I jumped up and peered through the white snow. The sun reflected off the white expanse and made it difficult to see. I shivered as arctic air blew in through the open holes in the shield.

  “They’ve detected the grav sleds shield,” Jim groaned as he manipulated controls. The sled began to lift.

  Kane took up a position towards the edge of the sled facing the base. Like Melissa, he nudged a protruding knob near the floor next to the side rail and a dinner-plate-sized hole appeared in the shield, knee high. He readied the strange weapon while settling into a crouched firing position, his back to a crate.

  TJ and Jeff did likewise. The former technician and scientist displayed practiced combat skills. Snowflakes settled on the sled floor near each opening.

  A large vertical seam opened on the front of the largest building. Massive doors slid to the side. Moments later, the unusual tanks rolled out, two at a time. Tank treads rumbled, cold steel shrieking as they picked up speed. They accelerated over the ice and snow, then turned in our direction.

  Sunlight glinted off opaque rings around the main gun. Turrets rotated towards us. The ends of their barrels began glowing auroral green. A laser beam lanced out at us and splashed Sven’s sled with green light. The tanks closed the distance as snow billowed behind them.

  “Well that’s a bit anticlimactic,” I remarked, turning towards Kane. His eyes were slitted, gun at the ready.

  “They’re lasing the target. Jim, get us out of here,” Kane spat.

  I was about to say something about how potent the shields were when the air shuddered. Shock wave. Incandescent rings of violet plasma boiled down the green beam at Sven’s sled. They looked like giant rolling smoke rings. Before I could react, they thudded into the sled’s shield and sent lightning bolts crackling into the earth as plasma streamed away. Dark splotches appeared in the shield and flickered.

  “Odin’s Balls. Get out of here. Shield’s down to sixty percent,” Sven yelled as he twisted dials. More green beams targeted Sven’s sled. Tanks poured out of the building. Missile trails streamed toward us. They headed straight for Jim’s sled. I ducked as fiery explosions erupted behind us.

  “What? How did the missiles get behind us?” I asked.

  “Space-time mass refraction from the gravitronics,” Kane yelled over the sound of explosions.

  Jim pulled the sled up sharply as tanks began splashing us with the green tracking beams. Sven was airborne, but his sled was yawing at twenty degrees. A smoke trail bloomed behind him. The smoke poured from cracks in the golden metal that surrounded the bottom and sides of Sven’s craft. Frightened teens huddled with the children in the center of the sled.

  Sven punched it and the sled flew ahead so fast I lost sight of it. Then with a burst of silent speed we accelerated to match them. I wasn’t even pushed back from my sitting position. Dozens of plasma rings rolled through the spots we had been. Behind them a hornet’s nest of combat drones rose into the air in pursuit.

  We sped onward for hours, heading southeast over snow-covered hills. Certain that pursuit was well behind us, Sven slowed down then dropped to ground near the grassy bank of a river that wound through wooded hills.

  Once down, Sven dropped the shield and acrid smoke poured from under the sled.

  Jim eased our sled down next to Sven’s. Sven had popped a panel on the dashboard of the sled and was metering leads with a small instrument.

  “What’s it look like,” Jim called over to him.

  “Din Jävla, helvete.” Sven kicked the sled. “Stabilizers on the right side are fried!” he shouted back. Molly was looking over his shoulder, pointing at something inside the casing.

  “Oh, and we have some damage to the grav generator. Minor so far or we’d be in the dirt, according to Molly.”

  I noticed TJ and Jeff were watching the sky while Kane was on overwatch.

  “Contrails,” Jeff yelled out. “Two at six o’clock, got comms traffic as well. This time Russian mil-spec.”

  “This just gets better and better,” I muttered.

  “TJ, do you know where we are?” Jim said as he turned to her.

  TJ opened an instrument that looked like a fat tablet. “We exited tunnel on the east flank of the central Siberian plateau just inside the Arctic Circle. We are three hundred miles north of Lake Baikal,” she said.

  Frowning, Sven said, “It will take some time to work on the sled. We need to go to ground, Jim.”

  “Let’s find a spot above Lake Baikal. The mountains will give us cover. Can you keep it in the air for another three hours?” Jim said.

  “Ja. As long as we aren’t being shot at,” Sven replied.

  “Wuss! A big man like you worried about some puny guns?” Jim grinned. Sven just glared at him.

  “Okay, follow me. TJ, can you find us a good spot?” Jim asked.

  “Yes, of course. Lake Baikal is beautiful. I went there many times with girlfriends from University,” TJ replied.

  “You’re from Russia?” I asked, not sure why I was surprised, but I was.

  “Yes. I was raised near Irkutsk on southern tip of lake. I went to university before being accepted to Berkeley. My maiden name is Dvoreska.” She laughed at my gaping mouth.

  “My cousins used to own a small hostel in Irkutsk.
And Lane, the girls are very good cooks,” she said. TJ’s eyes became distant.

  “Small world,” I muttered. Though I could use a delicious khalva with kozinaki.

  “There was this awesome Russian restaurant in Colorado Springs that made these awesome desserts–,” I said.

  “You just had to start him up, didn’t ya.” Kane shook his head.

  TJ’s rich melodic laugh raised my spirits.

  They were dead, of course. The nuclear missiles had ravaged the city. I watched the sky to take my mind off the dead. Overhead, the contrails had split and circled in opposite directions.

  Soon we were back in the air, skimming south as the sun slipped into late afternoon. More green appeared on the trees like kiwi candies on snowy frosting. An hour later, afternoon fog crept over the Siberian boreal forest and temperatures dropped.

  It was dusk when we came on a wide river. A heavy fog covered the river and filled the air. Jim slowed and peered through the fog, eyes slitted, when TJ screamed.

  I looked up as massive stone pillars rushed towards us out of the fog. No way we could stop. I ducked and landed hard on the sled floor. No crash yet. I looked up. A foot from the front of the craft, solid stone pillars extended up as high as I could see. Fog smothered the tops like gravy.

  Did you just think of gravy?

  “Huh, wha— yes.”

  It’s a wonder you don’t weigh five hundred pounds.

  “What’s it to you!”

  I live here too, you know.

  (I got an image of a tongue poking in my direction)

  TJ was wide-eyed and trembling. Even Kane was a bit spooked for a second before his eyes resumed their cool stare.

  “Sorry, TJ.” Jim sheepishly smiled at her and caressed her hand. She returned the caress then patted the top of his hand without saying anything.

  “Gotta love this rodeo inertial thing. Zero stopping distance,” Jim said with a nervous laugh.

  Looking behind us, I saw that Sven had heard the warning and stopped on a dime. The craft had gone from one hundred miles per hour to zero in a handful of milliseconds.

  Suddenly, I felt disoriented. Grasping at consciousness, thoughts slipped away. Identity of self-faded – elsewhere. My eyes must have bulged out and rolled up in my head. I vaguely heard Kane’s voice.