Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles)

ECHO

OF

TOMORROW

(Book TWO)

By

Rob Buckman

This is the twenty-first century, and yet, we, this odd naked ape, have from the beginning thought in terms of tribalism. Of course, we don’t call them that anymore. We call them the United States of America, Great Britain, or the People’s Republic of this and that. Yet no matter what a nation calls itself, it is still operating on a form of tribalism. Even today, we fail to understand that there are no subspecies of Homo sapiens, much as some segments of the world population would have us believe. We also believe that our particular way of life or tribalism is better than others, whether it be social, economic, political, or religious. Sadly, all too often, one belief system becomes predominant in a particular region at a particular time in history, and once leaders in that belief system are strong enough, they generally purge themselves internally of any undesirable elements. These people suffer greatly as they are either driven out of the country, isolated, consigned to special areas, places called reeducation camps, or ghettos, or simply exterminated. Once “
purified
” and filled with patriotic or religious zeal, members of the belief system seek to impose their belief system on their neighbor, usually through war, either economic, social, religious, or outright conflict. Even a quick survey of history for the last thousand years will show how many times this has happened. The Mongol horde, the Persian, Roman, and Greek Empires, the Christian Crusades, the Islamic movement, the advance of communism and capitalism, to name just a few. It matters not what the leader actually believes, since once they wrap themselves in the flag of their belief, there will always be “
true believers
” who will follow that leader’s orders, no matter what. Be it the murder of innocent men, women, and children, or the extermination of an entire culture, it makes no difference.

In
Echo of Tomorrow
, Books One and Two, I have used a particular set of circumstances to place one religious group in sole control of Planet Earth—one that, at least on face value, is diametrically opposed to the beliefs of most of the world. This is not intended as an insult or slight to that particular ideology, merely a vehicle to tell a story. If I set this story in, say, 1400s Europe, then the Church of Rome would be the bad guys, and so on. Even with a casual look at the headlines of today, it is easy to see the horror that particular belief system performs on a daily basis, from the subjugation of women and the sale of children into slavery, to beheadings and burnings of innocent people caught up in the conflict. Both stories in
Echo of Tomorrow
imagine what would happen if such a belief system took over the world, and what the world would look like after three hundred years under such a regime.

– RB

PROLOGUE

The small convoy skirted the bombed-out airbase, seeing the burning buildings and the litter of war, yet strangely, Ground Force Leader Lecar didn’t see any of those cursed hewman aircraft machines that the air wing commander reported destroyed on the ground. All he could see were mere shadows of the aircraft on the scarred and cratered concrete. It was something he’d have to examine later, once they had slaughtered these troublesome animals.

The ground commander pointed toward a high mound, and the driver drove over and stopped. Climbing out, Commander Lecar walked to the top of the sand hill and looked around. He was curious as to the purpose of the concrete structure below him, with its long trench and metal brackets. It seemed as if they were used to rise and lower large square boards for some reason, but he couldn’t quite understand what. Shrugging it aside, he used his binoculars to observe the battle, smiling with satisfaction. The hewman animals were gradually being driven into three large, flat-roofed buildings of some unknown purpose, making it easier for his troops to gather them up. As battles went, this one wasn’t. It couldn’t even be called a battle for all the resistance the hewman animals put up.

“Commander. Team Leader Asgar reports he has located their shield generator, and requests permission to destroy it.”

“Permission granted. Destroy any equipment he finds. We want to leave nothing these animals can use.”

“Yes, Commander.” A few moments later, there was a satisfying explosion near the center of the town about half a mile away.

As the smoke cleared, something strange happened. It looked as if one part of the shield generator building shot straight up into the air and continued to rise, despite everything else falling back to the ground. The large black dot continued to lift, spewing a rapidly expanding cloud of something that gave Ground Force Leader Lecar an uneasy feeling.

“Down! Down into that trench!” he yelled, leaping off the top of the mound. Three giant steps and he hit the concrete lip, and fell rather than jumped into the trench, landing on his back. He looked up, seeing his security team only halfway down the embankment when it felt as if a giant hand pushed down on his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. The concrete under him bucked, throwing him into the air, but not high enough to clear the edge of the trench. He was only thankful after, as the shock wave of an enormous explosion ripped across the landscape. He watched in horror as four of his security team were flash-fried before being sucked away by the inrushing air.…

CHAPTER ONE:     …
"
This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of                                                 hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They                                                              are sheep. …
LTC (RET) D. Grossman

To say the party was a memorable would be an understatement, since the town hadn’t seen such a party for many a long year. This year would go down in the history books as the year of renewal. Not only were the revelers celebrating the graduation of a new class of cadets, but the end of Britain’s isolation from the rest of the world. Once again, she could stand proudly and take her place in world events. What that future would be, none could say, nor did it matter. Now the stars were within reach, and as she’d once conquered the oceans of this world, she would conquer the oceans of space.

Scott Drake regained consciousness sometime the next day, head throbbing and his mouth tasting like a gorilla had slept in it. He felt cramped, and his shoulder was sore from some heavy weight pressing on it. At last he worked up the energy to open his eyes to discover why his shoulder hurt; Katharina Moore’s head was on it since she was leaning against him. The throbbing head came from the shuttle’s engines as it raced across the roof of the world on a beeline to New Zealand. Scott brushed Kat’s hair out of her eyes, wondering if he dare disturb her. Vague images of last night’s goings-on passed through his mind. He did remember Kat turning up a little later, once the party was underway, but after one o’clock things started getting a little blurred around the edges. He had a fleeting recollection of a bar fight, but couldn’t remember much about it. Other than a stiff jaw. His movement attracted attention, and a few moments later a stern male face appeared around the corner of the seat in front and handed him a large mug of coffee.

“I suspect you and Kat could use one of these about now,” Gunny Brock commented.

Scott groaned. “You’re an angel of mercy, Gunny. It’s either that or shoot me.” Eyeing Brock suspiciously, he remembered Brock keeping up with him, drink for drink. “And how come you look all bright and chipper this morning?”

“The virtues of a healthy mind, clean living, and thirty years in the Marine Corps my lad. Best training in the world.” Brock laughed.

“Would you keep it down to a low roar, please!” Kat begged, snuggling a little closer to Scott. “Some of the less fortunate are trying to pass away in peace and quiet.”

Brock would have none of that. “Rise and shine princess. Coffee’s here.”

Kat opened one eye, and carefully turned her head to check to see if he was telling the truth before committing herself to full wakefulness. Spotting the second mug, she decided it was worth the effort and sat up with a groan. “Oh lord! Who hit me?” She glared at Scott while she accepted the mug and sipped the hot coffee.

“Scott’s right, you are an angel, Gunny.” She blew him a drowsy kiss and turned to look at Scott.

“Huh, and I thought you were a lady,” Brock said. Scott and Kat turned their heads and looked at him, but he just smiled and vanished.

“What did he mean by that?” Kat asked, looking at Scott.

“Don’t ask me. I wasn’t there.”

“Then who did I sleep with?” she asked, sleepy eyed. To Scott she looked totally adorable.

“Sleep? Who’s had any sleep?” he said, looking down at their uniforms. They were both still in dress blues, and they knew if they’d gone to bed they would have changed into something a little more comfortable for the flight back to New Zealand. Scott shrugged, giving it up for later, and drank his coffee. Looking out of the window, he attempted to estimate where they were, spotting the fighter escort off the starboard side.

A quick look around the shuttle told him the whole graduating class was here, all heading back to New Zealand for assignment, all looking the worse for wear. Brock wasn’t taking any chances of a sneak attack, which explained the fighter escort. He settled back, sipping coffee and contemplating the future. So far, the aliens hadn’t returned, but a quick check on the date confirmed they were in overtime, if the aliens were following their usual incursion cycle. Scott had no reason to believe they would deviate from it. Now it would be a race to see if Earth’s military and naval resources, such as they were, could be ready when they did.

Now that Scott was no longer in command of the Marine Corps unit, and now semi-qualified to captain a space ship, it was up to Gunny Brock and Pete Mitchell to decide where he went. It felt odd to have someone else decide his fate again, but that was the way he’d set it up, so he’d live with the consequences. After the coffee, he and Kat settled down together again, dozing for the rest of the trip. His thoughts drifted back to when he’d first awakened from cold sleep two hundred and fifty years later than he should have, and the strange journey to get to this moment. To some extent, he still felt like a stranger in a strange land. But then, playing Rip Van Winkle for three hundred years meant the post-nap phase was going to be very different from what he expected.

From the moment he’d woken up until now, he’d been winging it, as they say, going on gut instinct about what to do next. Waking up to discover the entire world was now ruled by one government, under one law, was strange enough. To find out that the very people and religion he fought against and destroyed before they put him into cold sleep now ruled this strange new world was harder to take. Then, finding out there really were such things as aliens, and in this world of three hundred years in his future, these aliens were kidnapping human children in droves, horrified him. Especially when he questioned why no one on Earth was trying to stop that from happening. That’s when Scott learned that the military, indeed,
any
sort of offensive or defensive tactics, had been made illegal, and eradicated in the last three hundred years, even from the history books, leaving Earth’s entire population literally defenseless. The fact that the apparent leader and president of this brave new world agreed so quickly to his proposal told him how desperate these people were for a solution. Any solution that offered a chance to stop the abductions must have seemed like a gift from God, or Allah, as these people would say. As Sir Winston Churchill once said, “
I’d make a pact with the devil if I thought it would save England.
” That just about summed up the situation here, the one he and President Westwood had agreed to soon after he woke up.

Scott smiled to himself, thinking that in this case,
he
was the devil Churchill was referring to. Even with access to the factories orbiting Earth, the shipyard, and the asteroid belt solar furnace, it was still a race to produce something that could stop the alien invasion, if that’s what it was. Why they were abducting children and young people was still a mystery, as was where they came from. Answers to those questions would have to wait until after he’d stopped them.

An hour and a half later, the shuttle came in for a landing at Camp Pendleton, this new one in New Zealand, setting onto its pad with barely a thump. The rest of the passengers woke up, some feeling a little under the weather. Not having Kat and Scott’s power of recuperation, or an angel of mercy to administer coffee, they groaned and muttered about the sound and light levels while they exited the shuttle. The moment the rear ramp lowered, Gunny Brock took off somewhere and left Scott and Kat to their own devices. As they walked down the ramp together, the NCO who waited for them saluted, then asked them to follow him. Bright sunlight stabbed into sore eyes while they walked the hundred yards to a hangar, and everybody thanked the Lord for dimness as they walked inside. That didn’t last long; some malicious fool switched on the floodlight.