Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  “Aye-aye, sir. I have the con,” she answered, giving him a slight smile as she bowed. Then she took over Scott’s seat and assumed command of the fleet.

  The battle board still showed the number of ships destroyed on either side as his bridge staff replayed the last simulated battle, so the president’s greenish color was understandable. For a man who lived all his life with no concept of the degree of death and destruction involved in war, that might have come as a shock.

  “What do you think, Mr. President?” Scott said as they prepared to leave.

  “It’s all, so … so …” Westwood shook his head, unable to think of the right words. “It’s one thing to consider this at long distance, and I imagined it was clean and orderly, but this!”

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “You sat there calmly ordering ships, ships full of men and … women, to their deaths, without so much as a thought as to the consequences.” Even knowing this was a simulation didn’t help, since to his way of thinking, this was what these people would do if there were an actual battle.

  “That’s what war is all about, Mr. President.”

  “About?”

  “The object of war is to make the enemy change his mind, and you keep pounding on him until he does, no matter what the cost.” Scott could see that was a hard concept for him to grasp, having been taught that negotiation was the answer to any problem.

  “Admiral off the bridge,” the marine guard intoned.

  “Why did he do that, Admiral?” Westwood asked, looking over his shoulder as they passed through the hatch.

  “That’s so everyone here, and now in the rest of the fleet, knows I am not on the bridge, and that my first officer is in charge. It stops a lot of confusion as to who is in charge, should something come up.” He gave the president a smile, knowing he’d have to get into a long history lesson if he tried to explain it all.

  “Oh, I see, I think.” Westwood looked over his shoulder at the young woman sitting down in the seat Scott had just vacated. “Are you going to leave the girl in charge…. I mean … who is going to supervise her?”

  Scott smiled slightly. “No one. She is the captain of this ship, and the fleet for that matter, while I’m off the bridge. And, she is more than capable of doing my job. Hopefully soon, she’ll have a ship of her own to command.” As he spoke, Scott led to way to his day cabin and was about to open the door when the battle station alarm sounded.

  “Action Stations! Action Station. This is not a drill. I say again. This is not a drill.”

  “Shit!” was all Scott said before he ran back down the passageway with Devon and Westwood following.

  “Admiral on the bridge!”

  “What do we have, Number One?” Scott asked, dropping into the vacated command seat.

  “An enemy fleet, closing at flank speed from solar east.”

  “I’ll be damned!”

  “They didn’t come through the north warp point this time, skipper.”

  “Battle formation Alpha One,” he snapped. The alien battle fleet was shockingly close. Much closer than it should be, but the question of why it wasn’t detected before this would have to wait until later, if there was a later.

  “Launch all fighters and interceptors,” he called, knowing his order was now transmitted instantly throughout the fleet.

  The battle tank lit up with multiple contacts as the ready squadrons screamed out of their launch tubes to take up stations and release the Hawk squadron on the normal patrol. This would let them recharge their environmental packs and be ready to launch as needed. Gradually the fleet organized itself into a slowly revolving disk, with the Australia at its center. Around Scott the lesser ships took up positions, with the heavy cruisers and their escorts in a ring around him, then the light cruisers, destroyers, corvettes, and picket ships in concentric rings outward from that. Each had its contingent of fighters, and a new wrinkle that someone had come up with: each ship, down to the fighter, was now surrounded with a cloud of missiles, some small, some large, each cluster under the control of the ship’s captain to use as he saw fit. Some wag had named them “hound dogs,” and the name had stuck, since with their semi AI brains, the hound dogs’ lone function was to seek out and make an impact with any object they were pointed at. Like good hunting dogs, they had the brains to dodge and maneuver their way to the target, and carried a payload ranging from conventional high explosive to small nukes. They also had the ability to dock and refuel as needed. Yet even with all that, the enemy fleet outnumbered them at least ten to one. Scott wished the New Zealand was manned and ready, but she was already on the far side of the moon at the space dock. It would take far too long for her to get up and ready, so he discounted her as a factor in the upcoming battle.

  “I don’t think the lizards are screwing around this time, skipper,” Akari said.

  “You could say that, Number One. Time to get into battle armor, I think.” Akari bowed slightly and nodded before she and the senior officers took off for the suit locker, while their number two covered their positions. In four minutes flat, they were all back at their stations, and the remainder did the same, including Scott. As he stood, he saw the president and Devon sitting behind him.

  “CPO Hardwick!” he snapped into his wrist comm. “Get the president and Devon into something, and be quick about it.”

  “Aye-aye Admiral.”

  “What’s … what’s happening?” the president asked to Scott’s retreating back, but Scott didn’t have time to explain.

  “It looks as if we’re going to see the real thing, Mr. President,” Devon murmured as he slipped his pipe into its case.

  “Allah save us!” The president’s face turned an odd shade of gray. “You mean we’re actually going to be in a war?”

  “No, just a battle….”

  Scott saw CPO Hardwick usher the two out, then dismissed them from his mind, centering his attention on the alien fleet. This time they’d sent some big guns, and at least three of the alien ships each massed about the same tonnage as he did.

  “All right. Weapons: lock and load. Operation: seal the ship. All rings to natural.”

  “Aye-aye, skipper.”

  “Admiral to all ships, stay in formation and fire as the enemy comes within range! Helm, steady as she goes.”

  “Aye, skipper, steady as she goes.”

  “Lady Jane?” Scott said softly.

  “Yes, my captain?” the AI replied.

  “I’m going to engage the enemy fleet and go right through it, which means I need to turn the fleet on a dime and get nine cents change. Relay to all ships please.”

  “Yes, my captain. Your order has been transmitted.” Scott smiled. He and Kat had argued about him taking Lady Jane with him, but Kat insisted.

  His own unit wouldn’t be ready for a while yet, due to the backlog of orders. He’d been dubious at first, expecting her to chirp up at the wrong time like she did with Kat, but so far she had stayed quiet. He knew it was going to take a little getting used to, having something, correction, Lady Jane anticipating his every move and learning as they went. He could see that he wouldn’t have many secrets from her after a while.

  “Enemy launching missiles, skipper,” Andy Ross reported from his position at operations. It was more out of habit than necessary, since Scott could see from the battle board what was happening, but it did keep him informed if his attention was elsewhere at that moment.

  “Keep it tight, people.” They knew what he meant. Shield integrity was critical, and he’d lost more than one simulated battle because the fleet had spread out too far. “Return fire as they bear, Number One.”

  “Aye-aye, skipper, firing as they bear.” Within seconds, hundreds of heavy missiles sped away from their racks on silent wings of fire, streaking toward the oncoming fleet.

  Within minutes, they impacted, and it was clear from the burst pattern that the aliens were doing the same as he was, overlapping their shields. Swarms of fighters leaped at each o
ther in a whirling dogfight, each trying to penetrate the screen to get at the capital ships with their deadly cargo. This was something they couldn’t stop with shields—the small, agile craft could find weak spots and slip through. If they could make a hole by taking out one of the shield defense nodes, then the larger, ship-killing missiles and attack bombers could get through and do their jobs. By sheer numbers they did, as Scott quickly assessed that the aliens had an advantage of at least twenty-to-one in fighter/bombers.

  It was impossible for his fighters to stop them all, even with the high toll they were taking. Lances of plasma fire erupted around the hull as the point defense system opened up, and even as the first wave of alien fighters engaged his, a second wave emerged from the other alien ships. The battle tank became a swirling mass of red and green blips locked in a silent dance of death, while a second cluster of red dots streaked toward him.

  Down below in point defense, CIC Charlotte felt like crying. She didn’t have enough people to fill the weapons pods, and when she saw what was coming at her, she went pale. “Oh my god! There is no way we can stop them,” she muttered.

  “What about the kids?” her number two asked.

  “What about them?”

  “They did great in the simulation!” He let it hang in the air.

  “God have mercy on me,” she said between sobs. “Get them into the pods, now!”

  “Aye, sir,” the lieutenant answered and keyed his comm unit.

  The portside gunnery officer listened to his comm unit, and looked at the kids and their parents standing around the weapons deck. Half the weapons pods were empty, and there was no way he was going to stop the incoming fighter with what he had.

  “Listen up,” he said as he walked over to the group, “we need your help.”

  “Are you insane? You expect me to fight?” came the indignant answer.

  “No, not you, your children.” Shock and outrage passed over their faces.

  “You expect me to let my child fight for you?” another outraged council member shouted.

  “It’s not as if I have a choice,” Charlotte said. “In less than two minutes we’re going to have enemy fighter bombers climbing all over us, and I don’t have the manpower to stop them.”

  “That’s your problem, deviant, just get us to safety, now!” another council member yelled, looking around nervously.

  That started a shouting match as they mobbed the gunnery officer, waving their arms and trying to shout louder than the next person, until his comm unit pinged.

  “All weapons pods manned and ready, sir,” his number two said.

  “What!” His head snapped around to look, only to find the children had scrambled into the pods and hooked up the moment they heard the news. The green ready light was on over each one.

  “Oh my! Allah save us!” someone shouted, and ran over to one of the pods and reached inside. That started a general stampede.

  “If you try to take that person out of the pod, I’ll shoot you where you stand, now back off!” the gunnery officer yelled, reaching for his sidearm. The council members came to a standstill, looking first at their children, then at the officer. He stood there, weapon in hand, his expression deadly. They knew he meant every word he said.

  In one and twos they retreated to a corner out of the way, watching in horror as the enemy fighters came into range. Even so, the first wave got through the point defense system before all the point defense nodes were up and ready, and they felt the hull ring with explosions. More than one council member was reduced to a sobbing heap on the floor, groaning that they were going to die any second.

  Scott felt the vibration of the explosions as well, and gritted his teeth, hoping Devon had built her strong enough. A brilliant flash lit the screen when a nuke went off somewhere on their starboard side. The helmsman compensated and kept the ship on course, but that was only the beginning. Too soon, they were now in range of the enemy’s main weapons, and their shield had started taking hits.

  “Shields holding, skipper.”

  “Thank god for that. Return fire.”

  The dance of death seemed to go on forever. The two fleets met and passed between each other in a maelstrom of missiles and weapons fire, and the moment they did, more ships launched as the aliens now had a clear passage to Earth. Scott knew that Earth defenses would have to take care of themselves with the reserve fighter squadrons and ground-base missile batteries. Even then, the alien fleet started to turn and come about to reengage, but nowhere near as fast as the Earth fleet. It was the opening Scott hoped for. For a moment, the aliens’ shield integrity was gone, and they were vulnerable. Scott took it, pouring devastating fire into any ship within range, as did the other ships of the fleet. After that, it became a slaughterhouse as one after the other enemy ship exploded, or took disabling hits. Many of them broke formation, streaming atmosphere and debris in their wake from rendered hulls.

  But not without cost. By now, the point defense system was working at max. Even so, the red light came on more and more frequently as circuit boards or fuses burned out. The maintenance crew ripped the covers off the electronic panel and frantically searched for the burned-out boards, tearing them out and jamming a new one in place as quickly as they could. The fuses were a different matter. Each weighed twenty-five pounds, and under the constant strain of continuous fire they became red hot. Soon the room was full of smoke and the stench of burned plastic. Burned circuit boards and fuses littered the deck, and more than one man had to be taken to the medical center with burned hands.

  “Get the fuck off your asses you fucking useless ponces and help!” the gunnery officer snarled at the council members as he jerked another smoking fuse out and tossed it on the deck.

  The council members looked at one another, shaking their heads, fear sweat covering their faces. Some gibbered in terror and huddled into a corner. A few did stand and walk over to help, tears of shame running down their faces. They’d looked at their children, sitting in those pods, fighting for the life of this ship, their lives, and all those aboard. They looked at each other for a moment, seeing with startling clarity how these strange people must see them: sitting on the floor in abject terror, trembling and doing nothing while these strange people and their children fought with every ounce of strength to protect them. Gradually, in ones and twos they stood up and went to help.

  Yet no matter how fast they got one pod repaired, another went out, and the gunner frantically signaled for them to get him or her back online. Sobbing in frustration, they jerked burned-out fuses from their sockets, dumping them onto the deck, or throwing them into a corner as another slammed a new one in place. To some, it felt as if they’d gone to hell, and that this would never end, until gradually, the number of burnouts decreased and fuses had time to cool. Scott watched the battle with cold gray eyes, watching as here and there alien ships broke off from the main battle group. He immediately diverted ships to chase for independent action.

  Newcastle! Take your group and finish off designated targets,” he transmitted, marking the alien ships with a light pen.

  “Aye-aye, Admiral,” Rachel Haas acknowledged, and moved her heavy cruiser with its escort of destroyers out of the line of battle. Knowing Rachel, she would leave none of those ships in one piece, or bother trying to take prisoners.

  And so it went, as hour after hour they broke the enemy fleet down into smaller and smaller groups, then broke them up until it came down to individual ship-to-ship action. Scott maneuvered his ship around and fired again at the alien battle ship, probing for a weak spot in its defense shield. The enemy captain did the same; each found that the other’s shield was just as good. Scott knew he needed another element, something they didn’t expect.

  “Ops!” he said to the bridge. “We need to get close enough to get a tractor beam on them.”

  “Aye, sir, but we’re going to take a beating doing it.”

  “Do it! Get a tractor beam on that bastard!”

  “Aye, Adm
iral, get me within range and I’ll have her.”

  “You just have your equipment ready, and I will,” he shot back. “Helm, get us in there— Marine Commander?” he snapped into his comm unit.