Echo of Tomorrow: Book One (Drake chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

"With my luck, I'd probably get you killed instead of me.”

  “Damn you!” She snapped and rushed at him swinging her fist in the beginning of a haymaker, but it didn't connect. Without even having to think about it, his body swayed out of its path and reaching out he grabbed her by her upper arms. She couldn't hit him that close so she beat on his chest.

  "You bastard, you rotten bastard!” She yelled. "Why did I have to fall in love with you?” She said it as if he'd committed a crime. "You don't love me; you just want to get into my pants." That addition slipped out before she could stop it.

  "Kat?” He whispered. "I… love you…” He hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out. It’s too soon a voice in his head yelled, but it wasn’t. His wife and children were dead three hundred years in the past. She froze in his grip, staring at him with an intense gaze, caught between belief and denial. Scott world turned upside down as well. This shouldn’t be happening, but it was. The wine, sand, surf and moonlight had done there magic, melting a stone cold heart. That was something the defrosting process, or whatever it was, hadn’t been able to do.

  "Oh God!” She whispered, and suddenly her lips were locked onto his, her arms wrapped around his head and shoulders as if she was holding on for dear life. Her head said one thing, her heart another. She went with the heart.

  They didn't come up for air until the universe turned on its axis twice, or at least that was the way it felt to Scott. Somewhere in the distance he heard a voice with an English accent say softy 'about time', but he ignored it. After that they held each other, kissing, talking, kissing and kissing and it was inevitable that they should end up sleeping on the sand. Somewhere during the night their clothes simply evaporated off their bodies, as neither remembered taking them off. Dawn found them tangled arm in arm on the sand, a light blanket spread over them and the sun just peeking above the treetops. A polite cough brought them awake, and Kat looked up, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she pulled the blanket up slightly, her ear reddening.

  "Good morning, Miss Katharina Sama and honorable General San, would you take breakfast now?" For the first time in many years, Scott awoke feeling great, and without his usual morning grump. He lay there, eyes closed, just enjoying the moment.

  "Coffee first.” He muttered. "Hot, with lots of cream and sugar, please."

  "Here General San." Scott opened his eyes and looked up, his normally stern face breaking into a smile.

  "Now that's what I call room service.” He said sitting up and reaching for the mug. Kat took her and began to sip the brew, as with a bow and a smile, the Japanese orderly withdrew. Scott looked at her and smiled.

  "I hate to tell you this lady, but someone stole your clothes during the night.” He commented, looking at her beautiful breasts."

  "Funny, I noticed that too. I wonder who it could have been?” She mused, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him.

  "Probably the same person who stole my shorts.” He observed, looking under the blanket.

  "Sleeping naked on the sand is not a recommended pass time, my bottoms cold."

  "I can soon fix that, I promised to tan your bottom anyway."

  "Not before breakfast my General, maybe later. If you can catch me." Scott swallowed wrong, and she had to thump him on the back to clear his throat.

  "Better?” She asked after he regained his breath.

  "Yes, thanks, now what was that you...”

  "We have a great selection of clothes, short and a sarong, no tops" Kat said, picking up two pieces of clothing, “which do you prefer?"

  Scott found it was very distracting trying to eat breakfast and watch Kat's beautiful body at the same time, but somehow he managed to eat a full meal. After that, they took off along the empty sand to beachcomber, taking a hamper and fishing rods with them and with their invisible escort in tow they vanished down the beach.

  * * * * * *

  "Yes, Janet," Brock said as he answered his wrist comm., "what’s the status of Command One?"

  "Command One and Hawk One are now circling at the same altitude and on course.” She answered.

  "Well, thank God for small mercies. Do you need anything?"

  "No, sir, but how long are they supposed to cruise?"

  "Doc Chase said at least two weeks, longer if possible."

  "He hasn't got a hope in hell. I'm betting they crash and burn in one week or less."

  "Fuel problems?"

  "No, sir. Incompatible software in their computers."

  "You want to put fifty bucks on that Janet?"

  "Gunny you know we don't have any money?"

  "All right, how about a roll in the hay?"

  "Gunny! What would your wife say."

  "Oh, I forgot." Was his glum reply.

  "I'll take the fifty."

  "You're on.” Brock walked over to the Doctors office and walked in, finding him puzzling over a chess problem.

  "What's the word Gunny?"

  "Got a bet going with Janet. She thinks they will be back in less than two weeks."

  "And you?"

  "I figure three and a bit more."

  "Hum. You think they won’t work it out?"

  "I know the General. He'll work it out, one way or the other, he always does."

  "Maybe now he can get his thinking straight and get some work done around here." Doc Chase muttered, moving a chess piece and carefully turning the board.

  "Yes, it was getting a bit sticky around here.” Brock said, rubbing a hand through his short hair. "Funny how I couldn't see it myself."

  "Too close, and part of the problem, not the solution." Brock took over the white, and they played for an hour.

  * * * * * *

  Scott and Kat walked for miles, stripping and swimming when they felt like it, or simply lying in the sand naked to dry. The first night they came back to camp, but Janet informed him that they didn't have to. They could walk as far as they wanted to in a day, and the camp would move to a new location ahead of them and dinner would be waiting. That was the way it went from then on, walking, swimming, fishing, or playing, whatever they felt like doing. At one place, they found a small cove covered in giant sand dollar shells, some of them as big as dinner plates, and spent a whole afternoon seeing who could find the largest shell. Scott couldn't remember when he'd been so happy and felt no disloyalty to his dead wife’s memory because of it. They’d been happily married, but with his duties and her work, then the children they had never had a time like this to just play and forget. They ended up making passionate love in the Ocean, and Kat knew she’d found the man she’d been looking for, for so long without even knowing she was looking. Time seemed to stop for a while, but they came down to Earth hard when an urgent call came in from Brock.

  "What's up Gunny?"

  "The Aliens sir, we got them this time. Mother-ship, vector, defense systems, the whole ball of wax!” He exclaimed.

  "Did they manage to land?"

  "No, sir!” He chuckled. "The Shields worked great. We then hit them with our missile systems and got the results on tape, or memory crystal, which ever.” He ended up.

  "I'll be back in less than two hours Gunny, set it up to run the moment I arrive."

  "Aye-aye, sir." Scott looked at Kat, smiling sadly.

  "Sorry Kat, we have to go home."

  "I know. It had to happen sooner or later."

  "If you agree, and you want to, I'll arrange to have you transferred to my staff." There was no hiding the unspoken desire that he wanted her close, but he had left the choice up to her. If she wanted to remain with the air contingent of this new army, she only had to say so. Kat doubted she would have to give up much. She suspected her duties would remain the same if she wanted them, yet she hesitated.

  "You know what they say about on the job romances my General."

  "Yes.” He said, softly, and he did. There was no denying the fact that it would be complicated, or that he might have to put her in harm’s way. "You're right, I shouldn't have asked."
/>   "I'm glad you did. At least you were honest and had the courtesy to ask."

  "So we go back to being the same as before?"

  "We can never do that my love, but you must always be my General first, my lover second."

  "Shit!” He murmured.

  "Tell Janet to take everything back to base, including the escort, after dinner. Let’s spend one night, here, all by ourselves."

  "Why?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

  "I want to have one night truly alone with you, and I promise it will be a night to remember for a long time.” She smiled, looking mischievous.

  Scott did as she asked, getting a heated argument from Janet, she acquiesced only after he pulled rank on her. She then talked to Brock, sticking to her guns, insisting that three of the guards should stay. He didn't interfere, but in the end, Brock agreed if he promised to return no later than noon the next day. Scott promised, and Kat agreed, she would have him back at base, no later than 09:00 the next morning. With some misgiving Janet loaded the shuttle, wondering if she could cheat and leave two men behind, then dismissed it. The General would take her word for it that everybody was aboard, and would never count heads, so in the end it came down to a matter of trust. After the last person was aboard she turned and saluted before joining the rest of the escort. Scott returned the salute, even though he wasn't dressed for it, and watched the shuttle lift off and climbed into the sky. As promised, it was a night to remember.

  They drank the three bottles of chilled wine that remained, talked, laughed, and used the place as a playground, running naked in the surf and enjoying each other’s bodies. Somewhere around two A.M. they fell asleep in each other’s arm on a sleeping bag, and just as dawn was breaking the Eastern sky they made love again. This time it was soft and gentle, with a touch of sadness and regret, but as promised, the SR72 landed at nine o'clock and both climbed out fully dressed. Kat saluted formally, and Scott returned it.

  "Thank you Lieutenant. Smooth flight."

  "You're welcome General." They locked eyes for a moment, then turned away.

  "Welcome back, General, I have the material set up and ready to go.” Brock announced, jumping out of the hover Hummer before it stopped.

  "Good, let go see it." The interlude was over, and no matter how much he wanted to go back to that beach with her, he knew he couldn't, and maybe for a long time to come. He had a job to do that took precedence over anything else in his life, and he accepted that.

  CHAPTER SIX: Back to the salt mine

  The video of the alien ship was exciting and disappointing at the same time. The deep space detection equipment picked up the alien ship inbound at high speed from the direction of solar North. It fell down the gravity well in a long clockwise spiral, slowing rapidly as they dropped into a retrograde position behind Earth before entering into orbit on an equatorial plane, circling the planet twice. Automatic cameras tracked it as it passed the moon, seeing multiple, angular looking shuttlecraft exiting the belly and drop into the atmosphere, heading planet side. From there, the second camera array picked them up and they descended on the City of St. Petersburg and Frankfurt. Everyone in the hanger cheered when they saw the ships suddenly veer off as they hit the defense shields. The ungainly craft came round and tried again, with the same result, except this time beams of some description arrowed downward, setting off a spectacular electrical display as they hit the shield. Jagged forks of lightning leaped across the invisible surface, dissipating into the atmosphere.

  Time and again, the shuttlecraft tried to penetrate after such a bombardment, with the same results. They either slid sideways or veered off at odd angles. At length they gave up and returned to the mother ship. Here the first camera array took over again, just as the first wave of missals roared silently by on a column of flame. They came in all sizes and shapes, some slow, some fast, half aimed at the shuttlecraft, the other at the giant mother ship. Scott lost track of which missile did what, as one after the other they struck. Two shuttlecraft exploded, scattering wreckage in all directions, and at least two others were damaged, but none of those that struck the mother ship seemed to have any effect. It was disheartening as two of the missiles had primitive, low yield thermonuclear warheads. The detonation was spectacular, blanking out transmission from more than one camera, but the results were nil. The Mothership sailed on unaffected, and soon after lifting out of orbit and accelerated out of the system, heading for solar North again. With the deep space detector array tracking the ships, this time they register an electromagnetic distortion surrounding the mother ship just before it vanished.

  "Well, what do you think?” Scott asked the room at large.

  "They didn't work. Shit!" Was Sergeant Mack’s comment.

  "Take it easy, we took out some of the shuttles, which was one thing. It tells us that the shield on those things aren’t very good." Captain Price said, looking thoughtful as usual.

  "That's not to say that next time they won’t be." As chief armorer, Sergeant Mack had hoped for better results.

  "Good point, Macky,” Scott didn’t want depression setting in,” that means our offensive capability will have to be better the next time."

  "Big bastard wasn't it.” Brock observed. "Has to be about 500,000 tons or more."

  "I'm betting 1,000,000 tons at least."

  "Good God, that's big!" Everyone turned and looked at Pete. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  "If you think about it, it had to be. We don't know if this is the only star system the ship visits, and with the number of people they’ve been taking, figure it out. So many square feet per person, add water, food, air, crew, fuel, drive system, armaments, maybe and so on.” Scott commented, rubbing the back of his neck. "One thing, I didn't really get is a feel for how fast that ship can maneuver."

  "I'd say not very much. It has a high rate of acceleration, so that tells us that they are either, A, one hell of a tougher species than we are, and can stand a high G-force, or B, they have an inertia dampening field as we do."

  "What about some form of isolation chamber?"

  "Doubt it; put them at too much of a disadvantage at critical times, such as combat.” Pete answered.

  "Pete's right, I suspect these people have been doing this for a long time. They must have run into another specie with better offensive and defensive weapons."

  “Run that by me again, General?”

  “Think about it. What we see here is nothing more than the collector on a milk run. He has no heavy weapons, no escort, and obviously no ground attack capability.” Everyone looked at the video again. “As soon as he realized he couldn’t penetrate the shields, he buggered out back to where he came from, which means that we are on the clock as of this moment.” The team looked at one another.

  “Answering the question of how long it will take them to come back with reinforcements will also tell us our window of opportunity to build some sort of large scale defense units.”

  “Well, we do know that it took a year between their last visit and this one.”

  “True, but is that the norm for their turnaround time, or do they let the ‘herd’ build up again between visits?”

  “Shit! I don’t like the way you say ‘herd’, Scott.” Brock grumbled.

  “You might not like it, Gunny, but I feel that’s the way these aliens view us.”

  “It still doesn’t answer what they need us for?”

  “So, what is that telling us?” Sergeant Rivera asked.

  “That the next time he comes, he is going to be bringing big brother with him, dummy.”

  “Oh! Yeah, right.”

  "There is one thing, Skipper.” One of the ship design team said. "From what I can see, that ship doesn’t look that tough. “ That got a laugh around the room."

  "Semper Fi Marine, go for broke." Someone called.

  "No, no, no. That's not what I mean." The laughter went on.

  "Give him a change people, he might have a point we overlooked.” They shu
t up after that.

  "Well, Skipper, think about it for a moment. Think of all the battleships, tanks, and such, the really heavy stuff we build, they all look tough, even if they do have weak points. Remember that British ship. What was it called," he searched for the name for a moment, "oh yes, the Vindicator I think it was, built around the turn of the century."

  "Which century jar head?” One of his friends asked jokingly. They'd all forgotten that they had seen the turn of the nineteenth into the twentieth and three more that had passed while they were asleep.

  "The nineteenth Century." He answered, scowling at his tormenter.

  "I think I remember the one you mean, but go on."