Echo of Tomorrow: Book One (Drake chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  "All right, now tell me what happened?

  "Deep space monitoring didn't pick up the raiders until they passed the orbit of Mars, then we lost the detector.” Pete swore, adding something about wogs.

  “Our duty officer thought it was a false alarm, or a glitch in the system at first as they were too close. He queried the outer deep space detectors, and the next we knew, they were passed the Moon and headed down."

  "Christ on a crutch! What have we got this time?" Scott asked, wincing slightly at the news, adding the need to have their own deep space monitoring systems in future.

  "The mother ship is back, but this time she brought company, a warship of some kind. The moment they fell into orbit they launched several waves of craft.” Just as he predicted. As yet we have not been able to determine their type, or function, of these craft. The main group dropped through the atmosphere outside the shield area and started coming at us under the edge at the weakest point."

  "Damn! And the other group?"

  "It did the same, except they headed across the Atlantic towards Europe."

  "So they worked it out.” He muttered more to himself than anyone else.

  "Yes, and damn quick too!"

  "They’re old hands at this. Once a World start figuring out way to stop them, they bring in the heavy stuff, and try to nip any resistance in the bud. What bothers me is, how did they know where to go?" That comment brought some startled looked. "What about our destroyers."

  "They're inbound from Saturn, and should engage the enemy warship within eight minutes."

  "All right Ladies and Gentlemen, let's get conformable and see where this goes." He nodded thanks to his driver as he handed him his flak vest and weapon.

  It was no good having people running around like chickens with their heads chopped off, or shouting needless orders. The old hands knew what to do and keep the 'newbie's' in line; it was up to the alien’s for the moment.

  "Your coffee General." Scott looked round, finding Janet at his elbow with a steaming mug in her hand.

  "Your timing is impeccable as usual Janet." Taking off his beret he undid his jacket and sat down in the command chair.

  "Settle down people, we have a long day ahead of us." Gradually they did, taking their cue from him.

  "How can he act so calm?” One of the new recruits whispered to Janet as she took up her position by the door. He was trembling slightly.

  "He's done this before son, believe me."

  "But what if...” Janet gripped the young man's shoulder.

  "You're scared, and so are we. The General as well, it's only natural, just don't let it get in the way of what you have to do, that all."

  "The General scared!" To him it was a contradiction, seeing the man sitting there sipping a cup of coffee, appearing at ease and chatting with Captain Brock.

  "If you think he not as worried as you, think again. He had the lives of over eight thousand people to consider; you only have to worry about two asses." The young man looked at her.

  “Two?” A puzzled frown cross his boyish face.

  “Yes, yours and mine.” She smiled.

  “Oh! Right, corporal.” He nodded in understanding, cutting her a slight smile.

  “That’s better.”

  Scott glanced around the CIC, feeling his gut tighten. He looked at the hand holding the coffee mug, thankful to see it wasn’t shaking. He was scared, and knew it, as unlike in the mid-east, he hadn’t cared if he lived or died. Now he did, he had something to live for, and to die for if necessary, yet despite the fear, he knew he’d do what had to be done, no matter what the cost. They would all live and die today, fighting for what they believed in. The civilians were safe this time, deep underground in the secure bunkers, safe from the enemy. High above the clouds, and screaming along at MACH 3 Kat was in the process of settling her nerves as well and thinking similar thought. She was going into combat for the first time, something she’d only dreamed of before. Now it was her turn to prove she was up to the task.

  "Combat mode Lady Jane.” She said, feeling the cockpit tighten slightly.

  "Affirmative Captain."

  "Inertia dampening to minimum, and bring the weapons generator to full power."

  She knew she didn't need to do that, the moment she mentioned the words 'Combat Mode' Lady Jane would reconfigure the aircraft to do just that. It was nerves mostly, and the feeling she had to do something, as unlike the old aircraft the pilot didn’t have to worry about the mundane tasks like arming weapons, or checking this and that, all he or she had to do was fight the enemy.

  "All systems on line and in the green my Captain."

  "Eagle flight, I have multiple contact bearing Red 265 at six o'clock."

  "Confirmed Flight leader."

  "It looks as if we have three, I repeat three distinct types. The first is definitely fighters, the second possible bombers, and the third shuttle craft."

  "Affirmative. I have ten, I repeat, ten shuttles, one hundred bombers, and three hundred fighter aircraft."

  "Confirm that.” She replied. The odds were two to one, in the enemy’s favor, and that sent a chill up her spine.

  "Hawk Leader, do you copy?"

  "Yes eagle leader."

  "Go after those bombers, and leave the shuttles to the knuckle draggers. We can take care of them later if need be.” If there are any of us alive that is, she thought.

  "Affirmative Eagle leader.

  "Falcon Leader, do you copy?"

  "Falcon leader here, read you five by five."

  "You are with me Falcon leader. We will engage the fighters."

  "Affirmative Eagle leader."

  "All right people, we have the sun, let’s use it, and go earn our pay!” She yelled, flipping her ship over and peeling off.

  "Would be frigging nice to get some occasionally!” Someone answered.

  "What for, you can't spend it in hell!" It was nervous talk, the need to say something, even if it didn't make sense. They plunged out of the clouds as the alien fighter escort rose to meet them, and the dogfight was on. The black, needle like alien aircraft were ugly, with none of the eye pleasing shape of the SR72's. They were nothing more than a long needle, with a tail stuck on the back, something like the old Bell X series high-speed aircraft.

  "You with me, Wing!" She panted, the adrenaline rush already starting.

  "I'm with you Flight leader.” Mickey Thorp's calm voice replied. He was one of the old Harrier pilots that survived the Mid East War, electing to join the others in cold sleep, so this wasn't new to him. Kat bounced the first fighter, locking her tracking system on three aircraft. Lady Jane confirmed that none of the others had already locked on, and boxing each one in green, yellow, and red, to show threat priority.

  They roared at each other at better then MACH 3, Kat automatically launching two missiles the moment she had a confirmed lock. The missals screamed away, exploding on contact as she flashed passed. The first enemy aircraft simply disintegrated in mid air as Kat ripped the SR72 through a 9.5 g turn, hunting for the second target. Something streaked by and exploded against her shields, but she didn't have time to notice it before she was playing follow the leader with the second aircraft. Body motion was all she needed to keep on his tail, as she gradually closed the gap. Lady Jane indicated a missile lock, but she ignored it, wanting to get this one with guns. She had more of the second than the first, and no time to rearm. The tracking ring gradually came round, but as she was about to trigger the guns, the other pilot flipped over and down, heading for the hard deck five thousand feet below. In a heartbeat, she went after him, but not straight down, she went down in an Eagle attack position, the wings folding down, and now acting as stabilizers. At fifteen hundred feet the other pilot pulled up into level flight and took off, thinking to get out of the battle area and gain altitude for another attack.

  Kat saw the move, anticipating what he was thinking. The next second a stream of fire shot from the belly of her aircraft and impacted on the ai
rframe of the enemy as the mass drive Vulcan opened up. His shields were good, but not good enough to stop all of the ten thousand rounds a second that impacted on it. Bits of the aircraft peeled off until it simply disintegrated. The moment it did Kat leaned forward and looked up, the aircraft responding by climbing back up at full throttle, wings fully extended. She located her third target by seeing a rainbow of colors explode behind her, and a quick turn of her head brought the aircraft around and she found where he was, on her tail.

  "I have minor damage to the tail section, but I'm still fully operational.” Lady Jane whispered in her ear. Kat pulled the same trick as the enemy pilot, but she took it down to within one hundred feet of the water, the other aircraft in hot pursuit. Lady Jane flared before hitting the deck in an automatic response to protect herself, but the enemy pilot didn't have the same luck. He simply plunged straight into the water. Target fixation was what they called it, and he'd paid the price. As the Earth pilots became more confident in themselves and their aircraft the toll began to mount. More and more black needles fell into the sea. Hawk flight was having equal luck as they chewed their way through the bomber formation. These were fat, ugly brutes designed to carry a bomb load, and nowhere near as maneuverable as the fighters. In the end it turned into a turkey shoot. Scott watched the battle on the screen and listened to the reports coming in. Outwardly he looked calm and at ease, but inside his stomach was in a knot. They already lost nine aircraft, and he had no idea if one of them was Kat or not, and dare not ask. Then he had other problems.

  "Those shuttles have landed, General, and the bloody things are full of troops!"

  "So that's what this is all about!” He snarled. "They know we are here and are determined to put us out of business."

  "Third Company has engaged them, sir, and Second Company is assisting."

  "Punch up the outside cameras." The giant screen at the end of the room lit up and they could see the alien trooper pouring out of the shuttlecraft, as ugly fat aircraft passed overhead. The ground moved as one of the alien bombers got through the defense ring and dropped its bomb load, shaking the bunker down to its foundations.

  "Janet!” Scott yelled. "Get your troops together, we are going topside." Janet didn't bother trying to argue with him, she’d been there and done that before with no success.

  "Ready and waiting General."

  "All right then, let's go!" He snapped, closing his battle armor and picking up his rifle. "You're in charge here Gunny, so stop looking so fucking glum.” He shouted over his shoulder as he strode from the room.

  "That's easy for you to say.” He yelled back; doubting the Scott heard him. "What the hell am I supposed to do if you get your ass shot off?" He said, looking at Pete.

  "Don't ask me buddy, I just work here.” He answered with a shrug, his eyes on the screen. Brock spent five minutes swearing as he worked, ending with.

  "That man will be the death of me yet." He snarled in disgust.

  "There is that distinct possibility my friend.” Pete murmured.

  Scott exited the building to find his escort had grown, as over one hundred trooper in full combat gear waited for him. They were spread out in a semi-circle on this side of the building, and as he took off running across the base towards the battle, they fanned out on each side. Within a minute they were in hearing range of the fighting, seeing bright lances of energy weapons, and the sharp hiss of the needle rifles discharging. Bodies lay everywhere, thankfully mostly alien, by here and the body of a Marine could be seen and he ordered up a medivac unit and painted their positions. A group of lizard like aliens rushed them out of some bushes, but they didn't get more than a few feet before being cut down.

  "We want a few of these alive Janet, if you can."

  "Got it General!” She snapped, turning to detail a squad to take care of it.

  Scott headed for the shuttlecraft, intending to capture them if he could. They would prove invaluable intact, and might reveal at lot more about the people they were fighting. By now, the fighting seemed to be going on all over the base. Here and there, fires raged as building went up in smoke, as the remaining fat ugly bomber flashing by overhead with the deadly Black shape of an SR72 in hot pursuit, but he didn't see what happened to it, as he suddenly had his hands full as another group of aliens rushed his escort. Standing back, he watched, wondering at the single-minded nature of the way they fought. It was as if they didn't care if they were killed, simply charging forward into the guns, or jumping over the dead bodies to get at the Earthmen. Janet backed up to him, firing from the hip.

  "I hate to say this Skipped. I think you’re the target.” She snapped, firing again.

  "I have the feeling you are right, but that doesn’t make sense." They moved forward, at last coming through a screen of trees and bushes to the LZ of the shuttles. Clicks and hand movements had the troops on the move, surrounding the craft and a few moments later they rushed in.

  Scott waited until he received the all clear from Janet and walking forward climbed up the rear ramp of the massive ship. It was dark inside so he flipped down the visor on his helmet and activated the low light enhancement control. Then he could see the cavernous interior and the rows of webbing benches lining the floor. This one craft could carry over five hundred men, and this was only one of ten. The aliens had sent five thousand troops here. Now the question was, why?

  "You have the pilot Janet?"

  "No pilot, this flies on automatic.” She answered. Scott nodded. It did answer the question of why the shuttlecraft didn't make any aversive maneuvers the last time they were here. The ground battle lasted for another twenty minutes before it was all over, and by that time none of the alien fighters, or bombers remained. While the clean up was going on Scott headed back to the command center, walking in just as a shout went up.

  "What up gunny?"

  "We just took out that warship; she's badly damaged with no power and open to space.”

  “Great work.”

  “The mother ship did try to destroy her, but they drove her off. At the moment she’s heading for the same point in space as the last time, with two of the destroyers in hot pursuit."

  "The other one?"

  "Badly damaged, sir and heading back in."

  "Where is she going?"

  "I talk to the Captain and he's going to land her on the parade ground, if that all right with you."

  "Yes, of course, but will her hull take the strain?"

  "Yes sir, the design team had planet landing capabilities built right in."

  "Smart!” He said with a nod. "Is medical standing by?"

  "Affirmative, sir. Doc Chase has a team ready to go the moment she lands.

  "At least we can get medical teams in there without having to worry about vacuum." They had come through their first battle with the alien's but it would take time to assess it.

  An hour later the destroyer came in for a wobbly landing, settling down on four sponsons that extended from the sides. Even before the metal had time to stop groaning from the cooling and settling, the airlocks were open and the medical team poured inside. The air wing had returned, and there jubilant shouts of victory, and tall tales of aerial combat, with claims and counter claims of the aircraft shot down. The ground forces were just as bad, as they exchanged stories of incredible escapes from death. Scott didn't take part in any of the celebrations, giving all the men a chance to blow off steam, decompress and enjoy their victory. Without fanfare and unannounced, he slipped into the medical center, and went to the Doc Chase's office, helping himself to a drink. He poured a second one, and sat it on the Doctor's desk. Throwing his beret and side arm belt on the floor, he slumped down in the easy chair beside the desk and relaxed. Chase entered twenty minutes later, looking first at him, then the glass on his desk.

  "That is just what I need right now, thanks." They sat in silence for a moment, each to his own thoughts, sipping the rotgut moonshine.

  "What's the butcher bill Doc?” Scott asked at last.


  "Twenty six dead, eighty four critical, twenty three none critical."

  "Not good."

  "Is it ever?"

  "Any of them our new recruits?"

  "Yes sir, twenty five.” He answered.

  "Damn!” There was nothing else to say, not yet.

  "What about the aliens?"

  "You tell me, I'm not a vet. Never worked on a reptile before."

  "So they are definitely reptile, then?"

  "In a word, yes. All I could do was slap a wound dressing on, and stand back and watch," he snorted, "and that was more than they deserve. By the way, why aren’t you out there celebrating with your nonexistent lady?"