Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) (5 page)

“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.

The craft passed several building yards, and when Scott saw different-sized ships under construction, he began to wonder about his battleship/carrier. With only flat plates available when they built the first three destroyers, they were something not even a mother could love. His trepidation of how ugly his ship would look was answered as they came up to moon orbit, and he saw the sun flash off something big. Just how big, he found out as they approached, and he laughed out of pure joy. Old George Lucas would be standing up in his grave applauding what his vision of the future had wrought. The half-mile-long, pure white V-shaped hull gleamed in the sunlight, as did the upper works, and overall the ship resembled a battleship of bygone days. The main deck had three steps, each with three barrels on a swiveling gun turret pointing forward.

While he watched, something shot out of a dark band below each massive turret. On his craft’s approach, he could make out a flight of fighters pulling into formation. He nodded to himself; they had placed the launch deck under each weapons emplacement for better space utilization. Smart thinking on someone’s part.

The stern had a similar opening across its width with a short, clear deck and a lit, tractor beam net, or “trap” for landing. The deck vanished into the hull through a dark opening, as witnessed by the fact they were heading directly for it. Below that, near the base of the V-hull, the main drive unit could be seen, but he couldn’t get a clear view: it was recessed under a step in the hull, presumably so as not to interfere with any spacecraft landing on the flight deck. An impressive sight, but he did have some misgivings about the vulnerability of the underside. After passing through the cold plasma curtain that kept the air inside the ship and berthing, the crew put on all the fanfare due an admiral. CPO Hardwick gave him a wink and used an old-fashioned boatswain’s whistle to “pipe him aboard” as he walked down the ramp. As tradition required, after saluting the flag, Scott “read” himself in, and took over the duties and responsibilities as admiral of the first Earth fleet.

“So you made it, huh!” he said in a soft voice to CPO Hardwick.

“That I did sir, thanks to you,” Hardwick answered as Jack Bingham, the ship’s captain, came forward. Captain Bingham saluted and formally welcomed him aboard before he walked Scott down the line of waiting officers. Each came to attention and saluted before shaking hands as he was introduced. Some Scott knew, some he didn’t, and he made a metal note to learn about their abilities as quickly as possible. Like him, they all looked young, some naturally, others thanks to Dr. Kessler’s manipulation. Each would have his own quirks and way of doing things, and it was his job to weld all the different personalities onboard into a whole. Any ship or fleet is more than the sum total of its parts, and this one would be also.

After that, he got the ten-cent tour, hitting all the high spots and other officers who were on duty before being taken to his quarters. This, as it turned out, was a complete suite of cabins, including a stateroom and dining area that could comfortably seat fifty people. Scott smiled to himself, thinking that this cabin was bigger than his first apartment after he got married. His next thought: after all the miles of passageways, he was ready for a drink.

“Do I have anything like a steward around the place?” he asked the captain.

“Yes, Admiral. CPO Hardwick is your coxswain, and is in charge of your quarters and security detail.” He pushed a button. A moment later, Hardwick arrived.

“Really?” Scott said.

“Yes, Admiral,” the captain replied. “When asked what job he’d like aboard the flagship, he said he wanted to be your coxswain. No one was sure what that entailed now, so we got him to write his own job description.”

“I won’t ask what those duties are right now,” Scott said. “I might get a surprise I’m not ready for.”

“Yes, Admiral?” CPO Hardwick asked with a smile.

“See if you can rustle up some coffee and brandy for me, Chief.”

“Coming right up sir,” he answered, and was as good as his word. In less than half a minute he was back with two stewards with trays, one of them Bill, his steward off the shuttle. They laid out the mugs, coffeepot, cream, and sugar on the table, along with the brandy decanters and glasses.

“Compliments of His Majesty on your appointment, sir.”

“Lord! That was nice of him. Hope I can live up to his expectations.”

“I have no doubt you will, Admiral.”

Scott filled his mug and took a shot glass of brandy, then waited until everyone had one in his hand. He looked around the assembled group, looking directly into each person’s eyes. Most looked directly back, especially Kat, who’d sneaked in without notice, but some looked down, mainly the junior officers. In time, that would change, as they grew more confident.

“CPO Hardwick, your hand is empty, fill it,” he said. Hardwick looked startled, then complied. While he did, Scott tried to think of some inspiring words, but drew a blank.

“I could quote you some famous admiral, general, or politician, but I won’t. I’ll just say four words. Let’s go do it!” He raised his glass.

“Let’s go do it!” they echoed, and drank the toast. They circulated after that, drinking coffee and just getting acquainted. He let them have at it for twenty minutes, until he judged all the formalities were done, then called a halt.

“Thank god that’s over. Now let’s get into something more comfortable. See you back here in one hour, those of you who don’t have other duties, that is.”

“Company dismissed,” the captain said. Everyone filed out, until only Kat and Scott remained. She still wore her sexy skirt and jacket, and the moment everyone left she found an excuse to go over and pick something up, turning her back to him and bending from the waist.

“Kat!”

“What?” she asked innocently.

“You and I need to have a little talk,” he growled, “my hand on your bottom!”

“Oh? When?” she said, smiling.

“Soon, very soon.”

“Oh good,” she said, placing her side hat on, “See you soon.” With that, she was gone. CPO Hardwick came back in just then, and spoiled his chain of thought.

“I’ve had the steward lay out your ship’s clothing, sir,” Hardwick said.

“What’s the order of the day?”

“Same as Group Captain Moore’s sir.”

“How come?”

“As of the moment you stepped aboard, this ship, and the fleet, went onto a war footing. That means we have to be able to get into space armor at a moment’s notice.”

“Good point. Now it makes sense. By the way, where is my suit?”

“You have two sir, just like everybody else. One is located in your day cabin next to the bridge, the other is here,” he said, opening the door to a small room. “If necessary, you can dive into this room and close the door. It has a self-contained breathing system that will last up to eight hours, and you have the same system in your day cabin.”

“All that just to get into my battle armor?”

“If the ship is hulled, it might be the only way you can survive.”

“I take it this is a precaution in case of sneak attack, and accidental rupture?”

“Correct sir. There are emergency lockers similar to this all over the ship. Those are painted in fluorescent yellow so you can see them in the dark. They contain general-purpose survival suits, and each locker can accommodate up to three people.”

“Smart. Someone took a lot of care thinking that one up.”

“That’s not all, sir. The smaller fluorescent yellow locker contains breathing gear for firefighting and vacuum conditions.”

“Well, it looks like our safety has been carefully thought out, I wonder about the rest of this ship.”

“She’s a good one sir, have no fear about that. I can feel it.”

Considering all he’d just heard, Scott began to change into a similar jumpsuit as Kat’s, but feeling nowhere as confident as she’d seemed donning hers. The quick-remove long pants and jacket helped, although he found them more decorative than anything else. The suit kept his body temperature perfect, he soon learned, no matter the outside temperature. An hour later the senior officers, including Kat, reassembled, all except Kat, who’d worn similar suits while flying, looking somewhat uneasy in their suits. They got down to the business of who did what.

It didn’t take long for Scott to fall into old habits, listening, analyzing, commenting, and drawing the maximum information from the person in the shortest possible time. They all knew their jobs, so he gave them a free hand on how they organized their own departments, finding this the best policy over the years. People worked better when they ran things their way, and as long as it got the desired results and didn’t abuse the privilege of rank, he left them alone. As well as the normal ship’s complement, he also had a company of marines aboard. As on any ship, you never knew when they might come in handy. Scott renewed his friendship with their commander, remembering him as a somewhat quiet corporal in charge of a mortar platoon in the Mideast, now company commander. The air wing came under Kat’s command, and he listened attentively while she described the state of readiness and the expected arrival of the remainder of her birds. Engineering and environmental had their say, as did communication, operations, weapons and navigation. As each spoke, Scott tried to see the person behind the words, looking for their personality.