Echo Effect

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by Robert D. Armstrong


  “I do. I just—”

  “I keep going back to what we went through with my dad.” Michael lowered his voice, staring straight ahead.

  “The addiction?”

  “Remember what the doctors said?” Michael asked.

  “I remember it was grim.”

  “They said they’d never seen such a powerful addiction, Vala. Ever. These were doctors that dealt with technology addiction daily. Dad was speaking to fake hologram characters, but in reality. He didn’t even know us Vala.”

  “I know.”

  “We worked together and put our lives on hold to help him. We grew as a team. We taught him how to live again.” Michael said. Neither of them said a word for several seconds.

  “The vacancy in his eyes in the beginning, that was scary. Then one day I remember seeing a small spark when he started remembering us. It really was beautiful. From there on, he just got better and better.” She recalled.

  “Why do you think he made such a drastic improvement after that?” Michael asked.

  “I think, he had something to fight for then,” she said.

  Michael glared over at her, nodding his head slowly. “While I’m over there, I’ll continue to work on this. We do what we talked about. We research, we pray, we do everything in our power. It’s not an ideal situation with me deployed, but we play the hand we’re dealt. You continue talking to the doctors and I’ll try and find alternate forms of treatment until I get back. There is an answer, we just need to find it.”

  “Michael… Mike… Mike. Wake up!” Daniel nudged him. Michael rose off the concrete floor, using the prison bars to stand. “What, where?! Oh no.” He looked around, his eyes were wide, but then he grabbed his back in pain. “Aahhhh-hhhhh! This isn’t happening. Daniel we have to get home man, Vala—”

  “Keep it down. They’re right outside,” Daniel whispered, putting his hand over Michael’s mouth.

  “Listen, Mike. We have to find a way out of here. The longer we’re here, you know the worse our chances are.”

  “Dammit. Can we make a weapon out of anything, maybe something laying around?” Michael asked.

  “No, I’ve already looked.”

  As Michael began to move, he noticed his back was in so much pain he could barely do anything. “How did you manage to get caught, Daniel? You had one job when you left the truck.”

  Daniel slumped his head.

  “You came back for me, didn’t you?” Michael asked.

  “I heard the explosion. I thought you were dead…” Daniel mumbled.

  Michael shook his head. “Dammit, Daniel.”

  Just then, a group of four guards barged through the door. They all held batons. The front guard barked something in English with a heavy Korean accent. He was taller than the others and appeared furious. His nostrils flared as he scowled at the Rangers.

  “Who is…high rank? You?” The guard pointed his baton at Daniel.

  “I’m in charge,” Michael said without hesitation.

  “You were in charge!” The man struck Michael over the head with the baton.

  Daniel threw his body over Michael with his hands up. The other three guards joined in, beating both of them mercilessly. The prisoners groaned as each strike slammed into their bodies, but refused to give their attackers the satisfaction of crying out. Michael tried to fight back, but he was too weak.

  He rolled over on his stomach as they continued to beat him, mouth pressed against the wet concrete and teeth clanging against it with every blow. He began coughing up blood. Then, without warning, they stopped.

  Two of the guards picked up Michael under his arms, suspending him on the wall by a chain link harness. “You talk now… I tell you, you answer.”

  Michael could barely hold his head up. He watched blood from his head trickle down his left leg and drip on his bare middle toe. The guard dashed over and shoved his head up. “You hear me, American?”

  “No habla Ingles.” Michael grinned through bloody teeth. The head honcho punched his gut while two guards hoisted Daniel up, suspending him in an opposite chain harness.

  “Now…you know where is base, American?” The Korean soldier pulled out a small map. Michael knew what he wanted. He wanted the locations of the American bases in South Korea.

  “Name: Michael Keller, Rank: Staff Sergeant, Serial Number: 6783231498.”

  One of the soldiers whistled at the door, spewing off something in Korean.

  A wheel squeaked. The noise got louder and louder. Then a large cage came into view. Inside were two massive animals obscured by a shadow.

  The creature snarled as the cage was rolled into the room. All Michael could see was fur and fangs.

  “I don’t suppose that’s dinner?” Daniel gave a raggedy laugh.

  “You like?” Michael just gritted his teeth, too sore to even quip.

  “Tell me now where is American base? You see, American? See how much bigger he is? Genetic engineered.” He pointed at the black and grey monster in the dented steel cage.

  The wolf drew his lips, exposing a pair of fangs about the size of a large man’s ring finger. Saliva dripped from its mouth, smacking on the cage floor as it growled at a steady, low tone.

  “Join the Army, they said. See the world, they said. Shit, Mike. I’m going to kick your ass if we die here!” Daniel pressed his back against the wall and huffed.

  The Korean drew in a great breath. “We’ll lower harness enough for wolf to snack on your feet and ankles. When finished, we bandage you. Then, if you don’t tell me what I want, we lower a few more centimeters every day.”

  Michael gulped. “Daniel, we have to do this, man. Even if no one ever knows. Look at me,” Michael said.

  “Oh fuck no. Please God, why!?” Daniel cried out.

  The guard smirked, pointing to his crotch. “The best part is when the wolf can reach here. He seems to enjoy that.” “So, who’s first?” The soldier licked his lips.

  “I don’t guess it really matters, does it?” Michael mumbled.

  “As you wish. We’ll let wolf decide then.” He stood behind the cage and nodded at the guard by the door.

  “Last chance,” the guard said. He waited a couple of seconds then pulled the cage lever. The wolf shot out toward Michael, springing up before it latched on to his right ankle.

  “Ahhhh-hhhhhh-hhhhh!” Michael yelled.

  “You want to say anything, American?” The Korean glided up to Daniel while Michael was being mauled. Daniel shook but spoke only to Michael. “Mike?”

  “No! D-Don’t tell him shit!” Michel gasped. His eyes rolled back in his head as he went limp.

  “This will be long week for both you.” The guard snickered, strutting away.

  ***

  Years before Michael stepped foot in North Korea, an explosion ignited earth’s atmosphere. For almost two hours, night became day. Scientists and astronomers were baffled by the event. Everything from meteor showers, solar flares, and nuclear attacks were speculated then dismissed.

  Then, the ‘meteorites’ came. Apparently, an object broke into several larger sections of debris before entering our atmosphere. During the descent, it splintered into thousands of smaller pieces. Fireballs crashed all over the globe, ranging from the size of a golf ball up to a small house. The death toll was relatively modest considering, with just under two hundred thousand casualties.

  But that was just the beginning.

  Even more shocking, the first reports indicated that the debris were wreckage from some type of craft. Some speculated it was a space station that had been shot down.

  Based on the location and size of the explosion, experts calculated that the craft was nearly the size of four Empire state buildings. However, no satellites or sensors had detected the object before the explosion.

  Government officials were reserved about using words that suggested the incident might have stemmed from something beyond our planet. However, hundreds of videos from people around the globe began flooding med
ia sites, showing off strange materials from the wreckage. These objects had been forged into shapes, squares with exact angles or perfectly circular objects that did not occur in nature. Researchers confirmed through various rounds of testing that these objects did not come from our planet, shocking our civilization.

  The proof was undeniable.

  We were not alone.

  Hundreds of top-level research companies halted their developments to focus solely on the acquisition of the alien meteorites, or Star Rust. It was an exciting time. However, underneath the enthusiasm, the gears of greed were already turning in the wrong direction.

  The United States, North Korea, and China were the first governments to strike, recovering key pieces of the wreckage that propelled them forward militarily and economically.

  Even in the short term, technological stepping-stones receded as companies leapfrogged into the future by reverse engineering the vessel’s wreckage.

  The U.S. secured an operational portion of the alien hull that used hypersensitive solar panels and cloaking technology. A powerhouse giant of a corporation was even rejuvenated from its discovery—SolarSystems. This juggernaut skyrocketed back to the top of the stock markets faster than any company in U.S. history.

  They secured huge contracts with the Department of Defense, outfitting most vehicles with their solar technology. However, that wasn’t enough. They wanted a piece of the war fighting as well. They invested in research and development of drone fighters that could take the place of elite soldiers. This didn’t work quite as well. Artificial intelligence was fascinating on paper, but wasn’t developed enough for execution in the field.

  SolarSystems needed the human brain. They needed a Michael, but so did someone else…

  Chapter Three

  Seventeen long weeks after Vala’s transformation…

  “Move it!” Vala hissed at a man running toward her with an awkward stride.

  “I-I-I’ve been compromised,” the young man said, catching his breath and looking back. Vala rolled her eyes. “Is this how it usually goes? My first time and you’re late? Ugh, hand it over,” Vala demanded.

  He thumbed through his satchel. “Okay. Let me look... All right… There it is.” He checked his left and right before carefully handing the object over to her.

  She cupped it in her hands and her eyes lit up with wonder like a child holding a firefly for the first time. It was her first time seeing Star Rust. The small, angular alien object had an unusual blue-green shimmer unlike anything she’d ever seen. Some of it appeared scorched, but it was mostly intact.

  “Well, it is pretty, isn’t it? But not sure what all the fuss is about,” she scoffed. Vala remembered a video she saw online. It featured a father heating a piece of the wreckage using a welder’s torch, then quickly pressing the metal on his toddler’s cheek. Most people gasped, thinking the child would be burned, but she wasn’t.

  “People die over Star Rust every day. Let’s not add to the tally,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. The shouting crept closer.

  “Well, thanks to you, we’re pressed for time,” she replied, lowering her head and scowling at him, pushing some strands of hair out of her face.

  He knew it was time to leave, but couldn’t help noticing just how unnaturally beautiful she was. He’d heard the stories, but seeing a Cilan in person was unlike anything he could have imagined. It seemed a bit much though, as if something wasn’t quite right with her. Her skin and hair looked too perfect, as though she were a walking, talking computer generated creation. Perhaps more seasoned Cilans could capture beauty without obvious perfection, but Vala wasn’t quite there yet.

  “You should have paid better attention on your way here.” She peered around the corner. Her dog-like hearing could detect the police chatter blocks away.

  “Well, we can’t all be perfect, can we?” He shrugged it off, staring at her.

  “Aren’t you familiar with Cilans? Not exactly perfection with all these toxins running through my veins. I’m not doing this for the same reason as others.”

  He seemed intrigued by her comment. Cilans were typically ruthless, arrogant assassins. There were incidents of contractors like himself being murdered for being late.

  “We all have our reasons. Listen, when the transfer is made, I’ll put in a good word for you. But I’m curious about your, uh, specialty.”

  “Military focus,” she replied immediately.

  “Hmm, really? That’s odd. Okay, assuming you get the job done, I might know someone... Call me when you’re safe,” he said, patting her shoulder.

  “Later.” She spun around with lightning speed and melted into the shadows.

  The sirens blaring in the distance crept closer as she assessed her escape options. The city streets of Seoul, South Korea were littered with traffic at that hour, but not for long. Everyone was headed for cover.

  The streets would be vacant soon because of the increasing radiation indexes. It was dangerous to stand out in this situation, but if someone hadn’t fumbled the drop off point there wouldn’t be a problem.

  Vala glanced toward a bustling intersection. Nearly everyone was moving at a uniform pace. Many had their faces covered, pulling tight at their jacket collars or hoods while a light drizzle fell. She noticed a few tourists sprinkled about that looked a bit less accustomed to the flow of foot traffic. Their heads seemed to swivel around or peer up at the buildings and holographic billboards, contrasting the locals’ dead ahead march.

  Vala wasn’t a native city dweller, but her new heightened sense of awareness made her feel more attentive. The controlled chaos around Vala offered her a sense of supremacy over the trotting cattle.

  If it wasn’t the unreliable liaisons or authorities, it was counter agents looking to steal her Star Rust. This first time, it was the local police. According to her VR modules, most agencies could only pick up traces of raw alien materials within a 20-mile range.

  Luckily, even these new sensors weren’t completely accurate. They could narrow down the location of the materials within a couple of blocks at best.

  Vala crept toward a crossing, grabbing a comatose homeless person’s shopping cart, she rested the object inside it. She draped a garment over the top to conceal her treasure. Pausing for a moment, she shook her head at what was in front of her. The owner of the cart was propped against the overpass support beam with a holovisor covering his eyes, ignoring everything around him. A stream of saliva ran down the corner of his mouth. His body jolted slightly as the cars on the bridge passed overhead.

  He was young, early-thirties, and had a sophisticated, intelligent look about him. He could have been an attorney or banker. Now, he appeared forgotten. He was host to a parasite few recover from—technological addiction.

  Ugghh, linkers.

  She scoffed at him. She was disgusted by the disease. Her and Michael nursed his father back to health after a long, hard battle with it. He died a couple years later after the recovery from a heart attack, but he was himself at the end, not a slave to the addiction.

  Suddenly, the thought was interrupted when a squad of police hoverbikes converged on the drop point like a swarm of hornets. These hoverbikes were crude, but visceral motorcycles that could hover in place and could match speeds up to 200 mph given a straight path.

  Their powerful engines dispersed pools of water into mist, swirling it high into the air as people from the streets rubbernecked at the commotion. The squad was quite the intimidating spectacle of roaring engines and long, dark military-styled leather jackets that flapped in the wind.

  The lead officer barked out a set of orders, pointing his men in all directions. One of the men beamed down on her position just as she darted into an alleyway.

  Once in the alley, her hair changed to gray on the fly, and her skin aged forty years in less than a block. Her movements shuffled along naturally like an elderly woman.

  The police fanned out in pursuit, splitting up as their sirens echoed off buildings and
large holographic projector screens. One screen displayed a safety warning about wearing VR headsets and walking down the street. It depicted a short video of a young lady wearing a virtual visor then being struck by a car. A giant red X overlapped the screen on impact.

  One of the officers caught a glimpse of the old woman shambling along. He hovered over her and shined his light directly on the Cilan, stopping her. He had to speak up over the bike’s roaring engine. “Ma’am!” he demanded in Korean. She ignored him, looking straight ahead. He tilted his Hoverbike’s vectored thrust exhaust, blowing her hood back.

  Dammit. Can’t an old woman be left alone?

  She stealthily reached into her coat, gripping a compact version of the XMT 40 submachine gun. She flipped the safety off. Her body unleashed a surge of adrenaline four times that of a normal human, yet she appeared calm and harmless.

  “Have you seen a young foreign man? He was in this area.” The officer questioned her in a hurried tone. Vala had learned to speak some Korean from Michael, but her accent was off. To avoid risking suspicion, she mumbled off a slew of sounds that were unrecognizable in any language.

  The officer immediately took his light away from her when he heard the senseless babble. He zoomed off into the distance, nearly clipping the side of the overpass before leveling out and darting into the neon night. She released her grip on the machine gun.

  Vala let out a long sigh, leaning over the shopping cart. She surprised herself. He was simply a man doing his job. He could have easily had a family to provide for. She rubbed her eyes, putting her hands over her face for a moment. She recognized her readiness to kill was out of desperation.

  She moved along at a snail’s pace in crowded areas to avoid suspicion, but quickly shifted through dark alleys, gaining ground on her objective.

  Vala passed by several linkers on her way. One group of four addicts were hooked together via virtual reality visors while leaning against an abandoned building. Another group of young people were taking hologram selfies with them, laughing at their demise.

 

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