Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  “What about the news media?” Scott asked. That brought a few smiles around the table.

  Jeff snorted a laugh. “The main news outlet is an Aljazeera-style twenty-four-hour news service, and the news anchor is the local equivalent of ‘Bagdad Bob.’ Most of the local outlets pretty much parrot what they report, with some local stuff thrown in to make it look ‘fair and balanced.’ The word is getting out that a bunch of lunatics are running around free down here, without actually saying where we are. The story is, we’re the result of an old failed medical experiment and we’d been frozen for fifty years or so.”

  “Typical, half-truths and outright lies,” Scott said.

  “Oh, it gets better. In his compassioned wisdom, the Grand Ayatollah had graciously permitted us to live out our lives here, rather than permit our madness to infect, or contaminate the prosperous, peaceful existence of the rest of the people who live under the compassionate guiding hand of Allah, and his prophet, Mohammed, blessed be his name …” Jeff stopped to take a deep breath. Scott shook his head.

  “Heaven preserve us,” Brock growled. “You’d think after three hundred years we’d be past that sort of nonsense.”

  “Oh, that’s not all. The imams are calling for us to be … what was the word they used? Oh yes, we should be eradicated for the good of the rest of the faithful,” Jeff stated.

  Scott shook his head. “Sounds about right.”

  “They’re also jumping up and down in screaming fits, and warning of all sorts of eternal damnation for anyone who even thinks about coming here to join up.” Jeff laughed. “Not that it’s stopping the young men and a few women from sneaking aboard the extra late-night shuttles we put on.”

  “So, even President Westwood is swimming upstream on this one.”

  “Yeah, and he hasn’t come out publically to endorse our recruitment,” Brock groused. “Can’t blame him really. He’s walking a political tightrope as it is. He and a few other powerful people want the abductions stopped, and at the moment we’re the only game in town that has a hope of doing that.” Brock swore under his breath.

  “They have to be smart enough to realize that at some point, we have to take the fight to the aliens, damn it! That means we need the ships and crews to do it …”

  Scott held up his hand. “Brock, at the moment they’re thinking short term. Stop the abductions and the rest of the problem will just go away.”

  “True,” Brock murmured.

  “One of these days they’re going to wake up to the fact that we will, at some point in the future, have to take this fight to them.” Scott saw people around the table nodding in agreement. “So, first we stop them here, then regroup and consider our next move.” He didn’t doubt they’d stop the aliens. It was just a question of how long and how much blood they would have to shed doing it: the aliens’ and theirs.

  After the meal was cleared away, they got down to fleet deployment, estimated ship production, crew training and a host of other concerns. Whether the World Council wanted it or not, they had an army, navy, and air force again. As the military had done for centuries, they got down to the business of planning to defend those same civilians who wanted to get rid of them. At eighteen hundred hours the meeting broke up, and taking Kat along, Scott found a vehicle and a driver and had him take them to Brock’s home. Kat gave him a puzzled look as he knocked on the door of the neat, two-story prefab.

  He said, “I made a promise, and intend to keep it, no matter how late—”

  “Yes?” Pam said, opening the door. “General Drake!” she exclaimed. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Not ‘General’ anymore, just a lowly admiral.”

  “Whatever.” She laughed. “You and Kat are welcome in this house any time you want to stop by, no matter what rank you are … but, even civilian? Well, that’s something else,” she said, giving each a hug and kiss, inviting them inside.

  “I made you a promise, and I’m here to keep it.”

  “A promise?” Now Pam looked puzzled.

  “Yes. I promised to come round and see you and your little girl, remember?”

  “Oh, that promise. Yes I do, but I’m not offended that you haven’t yet, you’ve been very busy since then.”

  “No excuse. Can I see her?”

  Pam pointed to a doorway. “Just follow the noise.”

  She was right. Strange electronic sounds were emanating from the doorway, and when Scott left the two women chatting and located it, he found three teenagers sitting in the living room, in front of a holovideo projector playing some sort of space battle game.

  “Hi, remember me?” he asked.

  “General Scott!” the girl exclaimed, pulling off an odd-looking headset. “Yes, yes I do. Come in, please.” Much of the shyness he remembered had vanished, replaced by a look of teenage innocence, half woman, half child.

  “How have you been, sir?” she asked.

  “Very well thank you. You know, I never did ask you your name.”

  “It’s now Pamela, the same as my mom,” she answered proudly, blushing slightly. Scott nodded, not intending to ask what it was before. It didn’t matter now, that was in the past. She was loved and cared for by two of the finest people in the world, and nothing was going to hurt her again.

  “This is my friend Brian.” She gave him the name of his parents, but Scott couldn’t place them. “And this is my other friend Kayla.” Again, she gave him the name of her parents. They were two more of the children who’d been returned, and there was an embarrassing silence for a moment.

  “What’s that you’re playing?” he asked, breaking the ice.

  “It’s a space battle that tech services came up with. They used the three destroyers’ combat tapes as a basis, but it’s much more complicated now.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

  “You can add ships on both sides, play against the computer or someone else if you like. Would you like to try?” Brian offered up his remote gloves and headset.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I would. I used to have a bunch of these when I was a kid.” Scott slid down on the floor beside them, wondering where the video screen was. He soon found out; there wasn’t one.

  Once he’d put the headset on, he saw why. The VR helmet put the player right into the heart of the battle, and the glove let you manipulate a phantom keyboard and controls. The bridge of the ship he was on was so realistic, he could almost feel he was there, not sitting on the floor in Pam’s living room. He lost the first three engagements, but more to unfamiliarity with the equipment than anything else. At least that was his excuse. The three kids nodded knowingly, saying they had heard that one before. It ended up with all four playing, two on each side, and without realizing three hours had passed, while Kat sat with Pam in the kitchen drinking coffee. The women talked of all the usual things women talk about: married life, bringing up children, and schooling, until Kat looked at her wrist comm and saw the time. “What am I going to do with that man, doesn’t he know what time it is?”

  “There is only one thing you can do with a man like that, Kat,” Pam answered with a sad smile, looking toward the living room.

  “What’s that, kill him?” Kat said, jokingly.

  “No. Love him. Love him while you can.”

  “I do that now.”

  “It’s more than that. You know his job will always come first, the same as it does with Brock.” Kat nodded. “Never ask for more than what they can give, because they might not be able to give it.”

  “Isn’t that the truth!” Kat said.

  “Love him when you can, be with him when you can, and never, ever let him see you cry. If you do, it will destroy him.”

  “Are you speaking from experience, Pam?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, but not of Brock. Of my first husband.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I love that iron-headed marine of mine like nothing else,” Pam said, referring to Brock. “At first, it was like oil and water, or so I thought.�
�� Pam looked down into her coffee mug, as if it offered a view of the past. “We were both marines and both tough, but finding out we were the unwitting parents of that little girl just about undid me. It was something I’ve always wanted but was afraid to have. I thought motherhood would stop me from doing what I wanted. Being a marine. But it didn’t, with Michael’s help.”

  Kat hid a smile at Brock’s rarely ever mentioned first name: to most everyone else, he was “Colonel Brock,” or “Gunny” to a chosen few.

  Pam continued. “But yeah, motherhood wasn’t something I ever thought possible. I’ve never talked about this but … in some ways, my first husband wasn’t the man I thought he was, and we fought like cats and dogs over me quitting the Marines and having a baby. I never told him that I couldn’t.”

  “What?” Kat asked, thinking she had missed something.

  “I had to have an operation when I was a kid, and the doctor screwed up. I couldn’t have children until that crazy doctor in that lab did something to me. Doc Chase tells me that I can now, and guess what?”

  “You’re pregnant!”

  Pam smiled. “Right. I should’ve known when I found out about my daughter. I just didn’t know how he did it: eggs and sperm in a test tube, so I thought. Funny to find out you’ve already given birth to one child, and now have another coming. I found out two weeks ago.”

  Kat couldn’t stop smiling. “How’d you manage to nail Brock down long enough?”

  “It wasn’t easy, I arranged for a week’s vacation in the same place you and the general … sorry, the admiral went, and bingo.” Kat’s smile slipped at little.

  “Your turn will come,” Pam said, seeing the look. She reached over and patted Kat’s hand, and Kat didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth about having a baby in stasis. They continued chatting a while longer, until Kat knew they had to leave, and simply ended the game by lifting the VR headset off Scott’s head.

  “Hey! I was winning,” he yelled in outrage.

  Pam junior chuckled. “No you weren’t, we had you again.”

  “No you didn’t, I was just about to pull—”

  “Forget it, Captain Hornblower, you’re sunk,” Kat said, dragging him to his feet.

  “I … I …” he spluttered. That was all he managed before Kat dragged him out of the room, saying, “Say goodnight, Admiral.”

  “Goodnight Admiral,” he repeated, waving to Pam and the kids.

  At their vehicle, Kat woke up the driver and they climbed in. “Damn that was fun,” Scott said, “and my lord those kids are fast.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Those kids. Their reaction time in VR is incredible. No matter what I did they had me beat—”

  Kat shut him up by kissing him. “Are you going to take me to bed or not?” she whispered in his ear.

  “If you insist, madam.”

  “I insist.” She laughed.

  They managed to stay in bed for three hours before the call came for them to board the shuttle into space. Scott started to climb into his clothes, until Kat stopped him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  “Getting dressed.” He stood there with one leg in his jump pants, looking at her suspiciously.

  “Wrong uniform. You are an admiral, and you have to dress like one whether you like it or not.”

  “Oh Christ, a damn monkey suit again,” he muttered as Kat pressed the control on her communication band.

  “Did anyone think to have a uniform prepared for the admiral?” she asked.

  “Yes, you’ll find it in the closet,” he heard Janet’s voice reply.

  “Thanks. Janet,” he called out.

  “You’re welcome, your new one is in there was well, Kat.”

  “Good, you get to wear one as well.” Scott chuckled maliciously.

  Walking over, Kat pulled out his new uniform and handed it to him, and he started to get dressed again. As it turned out, the uniform wasn’t bad. It was an updated version of the traditional naval uniform, similar to the old one, but made of a lightweight fiber in navy blue. The rings of a Fleet Admiral had already been stitched to the cuffs, and all his old medals attached. While he buttoned the shirt he looked around at Kat, and to his surprise she was naked, climbing into a loose-fitting silvery-white metallic jumpsuit.

  “What on earth!” he exclaimed. Kat worked each leg inside, slid it up her body, and then inserted her arms, settling the baggy cloth around her.

  “Wow!” she said as the material slowly tightened around her body. It did this until he could see every curve and outline of her figure, and then some.

  “Good god, It looks like you’re naked.”

  “Yes, it is a bit revealing isn’t it?” She wrinkled up her nose and picked up a strip of light blue cloth, which turned out to be a miniskirt. Wrapping it around her waist, she found magnetic closures at the waist and down the sides. Touching them together, they sealed. A short jacket of the same material and color came next, and this covered her shoulders, breasts, and arms, ending at her midriff. The shoes were nothing more than slip-ons. With these, and the side hat, she was dressed.

  “What do you think?” she asked, spinning in a slow circle.

  “I’m not sure if you’re a group captain or a Vegas showgirl,” was his observation.

  “Think about it, dummy. I’m flying my ship up with you, and this jumpsuit I’m wearing is the interface between the ship and me. If I have to get into it in a rush …” She demonstrated by ripping the outer clothes off in less than three seconds.

  “Makes sense, I suppose.”

  “Damn right! This lot can be bunched up and stuffed into a pocket while I climb in.”

  “I concede your point, ma’am, but if anyone laughs, or whistles, I’m going to punch their lights out.”

  “Male chauvinist.” She grinned.

  They left their quarters and the driver took them to the landing field, and as it turned out, all the pilots were dressed the same. The only difference in the men’s uniforms was their pull-away shorts. Scott wondered how long that would last before either the men started wearing the skirts, or the women wore shorts. He decided to let them work that one out for themselves. Instead of kissing her, as he wanted to, they saluted each other, and Kat turned to receive salutes from the group of pilots going with her. They would act as his escort for this trip. He boarded the small orbital shuttle, finding he was the only other passenger as yet, and didn’t have a staff. Taking one of the forward seats in the spacious main cabin, he watched the takeoff. The moment he sat down, a man in a white mess jacket entered with a mug of coffee on a silver tray, offering it to him.

  “I’m your steward, sir. Breakfast will be served after we take off.”

  “Thank you, do you prefer to be called William, or Bill?” he asked, looking at the nametag.

  “I prefer Bill, but that is your choice, sir.”

  “Bill it is.”

  “Will there be anything else at the moment, sir?”

  “No thank you, not right now.” Scott sipped his coffee and raised one eyebrow. It was perfect, just the right amount of cream and sugar. Someone must have clued Bill in.

  For Scott, this was an exciting flight, the first time he’d ever been in space. Unlike the old NASA takeoffs, this one was as smooth as any 747. The shuttle rose slowly through the air, the only sound the deep rumble of the power plant and the soft roar of air being pushed aside by the shield. The sky became blacker and blacker as they gained altitude and speed, then the air sound vanished as they passed out of the life zone. They were in space, heading out on a spiraling orbit, seeing the curvature of the planet below. The craft passed over all the major continents, going from night to day, and back to night again while they climbed into an equatorial orbit and into their escape window to the moon. With the amount of power available and no fuel to worry about, the pilot had a much larger operating window than the old moon astronauts had. Now it was more a question of pointing in
the direction you wanted to go and hitting the gas, so to speak.

  The intercom came to life. “This is the flight deck, Admiral, Captain Anderson at the helm.”

  “Nice to meet you, Captain Anderson.”

  “We are now on course for the moon. Anything in particular you would like to see on the way, Admiral?”

  “No, Captain, I don’t know what’s out here. You’re the tour guide, whatever you think best.”

  “Right, skipper,” he answered.

  As they gained altitude they passed some of the giant orbiting manufacturing plants, and Scott was impressed by the operation’s size. He saw enormous beams and plate being formed in a strange harness arrangement, and remembered Pete’s report on these. The harness held the object in place while gravity and antigravity generators worked in conjunction to squeeze, form, and shape the glowing metal, all without anything touching them. The necklace of foundries and manufacturing plants encircling the Earth worked day and night to produce the materials and equipment for the fleet, much to the anger and chagrin of the owners on Earth who could do nothing about it. By pulling the men off the job, they thought this would stop him, but his people quickly figured out how things worked and had them back online. The other odd thing: a few days later, most of the workers turned up at the shuttle port and wanted to go back to work. From reports, word got around that his marine technicians had immediately kicked off the State-Sec goons and the resident imam. The remaining workers were told they could take a nap while pretending to pray, as often as they wanted, on their own time. No work, no pay. Much to everyone’s surprise, the ones who stayed didn’t have any problem with that. Some accountant did note that production rates of most orbital facilities doubled or tripled after the rule was instituted. State-Sec tried to slip in a few ringers to disrupt operations, but soon found themselves back on a shuttle heading dirt-side, usually with a nice collection of bruises to go with them.