Echo of Tomorrow: Book One (Drake chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  "And all the woman… females wear pants and appear in public without the necessary covering a chaste female should?"

  "The females here wear a uniform mostly. A few like to wear a dress or skirt in off duty hours if that's what you mean."

  "Yes. I now understand why President Westwood warned me that even talking to you would be a shock."

  "Thank you for your time, Professor. I can see that our way of life is far different from yours and you would find it difficult to fit in here." Scott reached over for the disconnect button.

  "No… wait, please."

  "Yes?"

  "On one level I am shocked, and appalled by what you have told me so far. On the other hand, I find it intriguing."

  "In what way?"

  "Let's just say to be able to study a culture that’s three hundred years old."

  "I wouldn't go as far as to say we are running around in animal skins and waving clubs."

  "I suspect not. But your mindset and culture is from the past is it not?"

  "True."

  "That alone tempts me to accept your offer."

  "You will probably find many aspects of our culture shocking, but if you are open minded enough to observe without condemning what you see, I think we can at least give it a try."

  "I agree. Would you permit me to at least come, and see for myself for a few days at least."

  "I agree. If you don't think you can handle it, I will send you back immediately."

  "Thank you, and may the blessings of Allah, blessed be his name, be upon you General Scott."

  "And on you, Mohammed Salah ad-Din."

  With that, they both disconnected, and Scott sat back and let out a long sigh. The old man impressed him as being a lot more tolerant than all of the others. Maybe this would work. He ordered up a shuttle for the Imam and got back to the seemingly never ending pile of reports and thought of the upcoming trip to England.

  CHAPTER TEN: Not so merry old England

  After radio contact was established, it turned out that England hadn't given up any of her military history, carefully guarding it in deep vaults and secret locations. The army, navy, and air force consisted only a few thousand men and woman now, more to keep the tradition alive than a true fighting force. Scott arranged for the design teams to move into orbit to take over the belt manufacturing facilities and get production of the fleet underway, using whatever man, facilities, and equipment they might need. They ran into trouble the first day, as the moment they arrived, the people operating the facility packed up and left, leaving them to figure out how everything worked. Scott left that to them to figure it out, as he had more pressing business in answering the request for a formal meeting with the British Government, and nothing anyone could say would change their minds about who should be there. Eagle squadron acted as escort, and he was disappointed when they insisted he travel by shuttle in full dress uniform. His thought about talking with Kat vanished like the morning mist. He didn't put on his new dress uniform until the Island was in sight, and even if it were made from the newer lightweight material, it still felt uncomfortable. He’d be more comfortable in BDU’s, but he took some perverse satisfaction in the fact that Janet, and the honor guard looked just as uncomfortable as he did. The attack squadron made short work of the barrier pylons from the outside, and quickly blasted a hole for the rest of the group to fly through. As directed, the shuttle landed in Hyde Park to the music of the Marine Corp marching song and they had put on a very impressive display in his honor, complete with troops of all three services and a color guard. The Prime Minister of England met him as he alighted from the shuttle, a slightly puzzled look on his face.

  “General Drake? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” For a moment Scott was puzzled by the look on the PM’s face, and by the implied question, but decided to leave that for later. For an hour, he went through the ritual of inspecting the troops, welcome speeches, and a parade. At last, he was whisked by a ground car powered by an internal combustion engine of all things, instead of the antigravity, or hoverfan unit he'd become accustom to, the smell reminding him of rush hour traffic on the San Diego Freeway. London on the other hand hadn't changed that much, except in a lot of small ways. There was just as much traffic in the streets, but it was all silent, or relatively silent as most of it was electric. Small scooters pop-popped their way through traffic, but even those were burning some type of clean fuel, as there was no exhaust smell. London looked cleaner and brighter than he remembered, even with the slight overcast. In some strange way, it was like stepping back in time. The policemen still wore the odd looking helmets and the guards still wore their bright colored uniforms as they stood on guard outside Buckingham Palace. In some way, it appeared, at least on the surface, that time had stood still, preserving a London from three hundred years ago. Scott noted several new buildings and a lot more green in the way of parks than what he remembered as they drove through the city. The tower of London and Tower bridge still stood, looking as splendid as ever, as did number 10 Downing Street for a one-on-one meeting with the Prime Minister. It was odd, that England had never gone in for some grand, imposing building to house the Prime Minister, unlike their American cousin.

  * * * * * *

  "Welcome General Drake, please take a seat.” The PM said, shaking hands. "Would you care for a drink?"

  "Yes, thank you.” He answered. The PM poured two glasses, handing him one and sitting down behind his desk. Scott sipped the amber liquid, savoring the smoky taste; it was real whisky, not the rotgut that Doc Chase severed up.

  "That's better. My taste buds had almost forgotten what this tastes like."

  "You don't get any in New Zealand?"

  "No, the best we can do is some moonshine concocted by our Doctor."

  "I'll make sure you take a case or two back with you, no matter how this meeting turns out."

  "You feel that it might not be advantageous to you?"

  "No, no, of course not, but you have to understand, we have been almost totally isolated for two hundred and fifty years from the outside World, so we have to tread carefully." Scott could see a certain reserve in the MP by his body language.

  "I can understand your feeling."

  "They tell me, your contact team, as you call them, that you and many of the others were placed in cold sleep in 2012, is that true?"

  "Yes, sir it is."

  "So this World must be as strange to you as it will for us."

  "You can say that again."

  “I have to say, I was expecting to meet a much older man. Are you General Drake’s son?” The question explained the puzzled look and the question in the PM’s voice when they met.

  “No, sir. I’m the original Scott Drake.”

  “Then I take it your youthful looks are a byproduct of the cold sleep?”

  “No sir, they are the product of a mad genius that screwed around with my genetic code.”

  “I see.” There was a thoughtful look in his eye. “That explains why you look like a young man.”

  “Yes, sir, but don’t let the looks fool you. There is a fifty year old man looking out through these eyes, with his likes, dislikes, and attitude.” The PM looked thoughtful, then nodded.

  “Very well. We’ll leave that until later, the question of the moment is, what is it that you feel we can do for you?"

  "For one, your expertise in building a fleet of Warships."

  "In what way?" If the PM was surprised, he hid it well.

  "We need construction workers, a lot of them. Men and women who are not afraid of weapons, or equality between the sexes."

  "Yes, we know about the abominable practice that the rest of the World has adopted under Islam. My predecessor was a woman, and she was elected for three terms, so we don't have any of that nonsense here."

  "What about the workers, can you supply them."

  "I don't see a problem there, but what else do you need.” The PM was fishing for something, but Scott wasn't sure what, so he asked.


  "What is it that you are looking for Mr. Prime Minister?"

  "Let's get rid of the titles for a moment. They get in the way of talking."

  "Agreed, call me Scott."

  "Thank you Scott, call me Patrick, or PM if you prefer, please, and to answer your question, I'll like to see my people participate fully in your efforts."

  "In what way?"

  "You are going to need crews for all these ships, men trained and ready to fight, is that right?"

  "Yes it is."

  "We still have many of the training facilities for all three services. With your cooperation and up to date material on weapons, defensive systems, damage control etc. we can start training the crews you need.” It was a fair offer, yet Scott felt there was something missing from the equation. He sipped his drink, thinking.

  “We also have a trained manpower base for you to draw on.”

  "I suspect you have an ulterior motive for doing all this."

  "Ulterior motive, good heavens no."

  "If you get your people trained, and on the ships, you, as well as we would be the power on this planet, right?"

  "Was it so obvious?" Patrick had the grace to flush slightly.

  "No, not really."

  "You have to understand. Two hundred and fifty years ago, the UN, as it was then, isolated this Island from the rest of the World.” A look of bitterness crossed his face for a moment before he regained his composure.

  “During that time the UK went through a terrible period, and since then have developed a deep, abiding hatred for not only the people who put the barrier up, but also for those that maintained it."

  "I can understand that, sir. If I were in the same position I'd feel the same.

  "If you include the oceans and seas, at one time, this country ruled three quarters of the planet, right from this office I might add. We never want to be so powerless that they could do it to us again, ever!” He said, emphasizing the last word. Scott could understand, and sympathized with his feelings, but that was only the tip of the iceberg, there was more to it than that.

  "Knowing that, there is also the question of who commands, and the loyalty of the people under him, or her. If he or she can't trust the people under their command, then nothing we do will work." Scott said it softly, in a non-threatening manner, yet even so, he saw the PM flinch.

  "Are you saying that your people will be in charge?"

  "It goes to all levels of the command and control structure, and unless you have a better candidate in mind, yes." The PM thought about that, and Scott could see he wasn't happy with the idea. He toyed with his drink for a few moments, as if debating his next words.

  "We had a similar situation in 1944, and if you are from near that time, you may remember it. An American General by the name of Ike Eisenhower became Supreme Allied Commander over the objections of many people on this side of the Atlantic. He obtained that position due more to political pull than military judgment, and many feel we paid a high price for it.” He said at last, leaving out the obvious suggestion that Scott was an American.

  "I read many historical reports of the D-Day landing and the battle that came after and I agree, he and some of the other generals were not the soldier’s history, and the press presented them as.”

  “Patton being the exception. Eisenhower had no field, or combat experience and made many mistakes that cost too many lives in my estimation, but what is your point?"

  "From your record you appear to have all the qualifications for command of an army. But do you have them for a space navy?"

  "To that, I would have to say no, I don’t, but again, if you have a better candidate I would be willing to step aside and place him or her in charge." The PM looked at him, as if weighing his words.

  "That comes as something of a surprise, and for a moment, I find myself at a loss for words."

  "PM, Patrick, let me ask you this, does your historical account of the Mid East War say that I disobeyed a direct order from the then President of the United States, and that I prosecuted the War against her express orders?”

  "You will happy to learn that we have both versions, the official one, and the truth." The PM chuckles, looking over the rim of his glass at Scott.

  "Oh, I see."

  "Once your name was mentioned, and we were told who you were, I asked MI5 to put together a dossier on you, with special interest in any relevant historical documents. My thought at the time was to query you on your claim.” He chuckled at some secret joke.

  “We found out that British Intelligence was monitoring all communications traffic during that day, and I must say that it made for interesting viewing. Did the second President, the lady whose name I can't remember just at the moment, actually say 'go kick ass'?” He asked, smiling.

  "That she did Patrick, but only unofficially, and that was supposed to be on a secure channel."

  "Yes, quite so,” he commented dryly, “that was noted in the record as well. I must say, it was a masterfully executed plan, yet in retrospect, I wonder if the results were worth it."

  "I wonder too Patrick, every time I think about it and see what the world has become. May I have another?” He asked, holding the glass out. The PM poured more whisky into his glass.

  "Would you do the same thing today, under the same circumstances?"

  "Knowing what I know now?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't know, I really don't know."

  "Fair answer.”

  “And, are you convinced that I am from that time?”

  “I have no doubt about it, despite your lack of age.”

  “Oh? How come?”

  “Let's just say for argument, that MI5 has some interesting information on you, and leave it at that.”

  “Not as isolated as the World Government imagines.”

  “No, they forgot about the electronic aspect of our isolation. Their barrier isn’t as bulletproof as they think.” He chuckled.

  England must have kept their electronic surveillance equipment intact, and possibly updated it in three hundred years. In a way it made sense. The British isle has always been surrounded by a barrier, the sea, and found ways to conquer that obstacle long ago, so why not the barrier.

  “Let us put that aside for the moment. I have spoken to the Admiralty on this subject before you arrived, and their Lordships feel that it might be wise if you people went back to school, so to speak."

  "Run that by me again." Scott brought his mind back to the question at hand.

  "One of the our greatest accomplishments over the years has been the domination of the sea, first around our coast, then around the world until you America’s took over the job, and the cost." He smiled as he said it.

  "Yes, agreed, one of the main points our design team looked at was that way the British Navy built their ships.” The PM nodded in understanding.

  “With some exceptions, you retained mastery of the oceans for better than five hundred years. Changing the philosophy or tactic, and design to suit the times, which most navies around the world copied, including the United States. But, what has that got to do with my people going to school?"

  “Their Lordships at the Admiralty feel that the same principle applies to space. We have to control all space within the volume of this solar system, and maybe beyond if we wish to remain safe from any attack."

  "I see your point there, but why school?"

  "Do any of your present ship Captains have any experience in ship handling or joint action?"

  "Three of them do now, learned the hard way, but I see what you are getting at. We are going to need many, many more, and a continuing supply of Naval Officers and seamen... space... or what the hell we are going to call them."

  "Right. The Admiralty’s thinking is, that even in space, a crew needs to be able to do many of the same basic things that a wet navy crew has to do. We still have the schools here, and the instructor to train them in the basics of ship handling, damage control, command and control, and in a very sho
rt time could turn out the first group of men to command the ships you intend to build."

  It was a great thought. Alpha base didn’t have anywhere near the capacity, or personnel to train the number of people a fleet would need. Here was a ready-made institution, and training staff to do the job.

  "It will have to be a learning experience both ways. I see where you can use seamanship as a basis for space ship handling, but unlike the sea, space is three dimensional."

  "Agreed, that's why it is imperative that those three Captain come and teach what they have learned."