Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) (47 page)

“Yes,” he said with a nod, “that was one small item we overlooked.”

“Not that it matters in this place and time. None of the others are married either,” Kat said, chuckling. It was true. When the children arrived, and they found out who the parents were, each couple had simply paired off and set up house together.

They talked for a while, between a lot of kissing, until Scott lay down beside her and slowly fell asleep, looking at them both.

“
Can I see?
”
a muffled voice asked

“Lady Jane?” Kat called, and lifting his jacket, she pulled out the crystal block and set it in the bedside table. “There you are,” she said, and pulled back the blanket to show her AI the perfect tiny face.

“
Oh my! I didn’t realize human babies were so small at birth
,” Lady Jane whispered.

“Tell me about the battle, Lady Jane. How did it go?”

Lady Jane did, all of it, and since Scott had placed no restriction on her, she told Kat everything. Kat didn’t know whether to cry or get mad, and she looked at the man lying beside her, fingers brushing his handsome, boyish face.

“What am I going to do with you, my love?” A tear ran down her cheek as she said it, and for once, Lady Jane kept silent, as Kat accepted that the man she loved was Scott Drake, and no matter where the trouble was, he was sure to be in the middle of it.

* * * * * *

The next day they attended another funeral, made sadder this time by the three small coffins lying side by side in a sea of flowers, and this time Scott felt compelled to say a few words.

“A long time ago, a great man once said these words … ‘
Never, in the field of human conflict, has so much been owed by so many to so few.’
” He paused to let the implications set in. “Those words were true then, as they are today.”

He looked down at the coffins. “They, along with others of their generation, took on the defense of the ship. No one ordered them to, or forced them to sit in the weapons pods, and no one forced them to stay at their posts even after taking damage, and they continued defending the ship. These three children made the ultimate sacrifice.” He looked up at the council members, some stone faced, others weeping openly.

“Today we honor these children, as we honor all those who gave their lives in the defense of Earth.” Scott stepped back and saluted as the lone piper began to play “Amazing Grace.” The sad, hopeful notes floated over them. Then the assembled company began to sing the words of the old song.

Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)

That sav'd a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears reliev'd;

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believ'd!

Thro' many dangers, toils, and snares,

I have already come;

’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home.

* * * * * *

Scott managed to spend three days with Kat and the baby, rediscovering the wonder of a newborn, yet he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should be doing more; otherwise his son, and all the other sons and daughters on Earth, might yet be in jeopardy from the aliens. He angrily pushed away the thought of what might happen if the aliens landed here and somehow got through the security screen. It was as if Kat could almost read his mind, and on the morning of the fourth day she kicked him out, lovingly, but firmly.

“You have work to do Admiral, so get off your butt, and go do it,” she said, kissing him fiercely. “Here’s a present for you,” she said, and handed him a package. Scott opened it, feeling warm and secure in her love and understanding, and pulling off the wrapper, found he was holding a crystal block. His AI had finally arrived.

“
Good morning my captain,
”
the
block announced in a voice remarkably similar to Kat’s. “
By what name would you like to address me, sir?
”

There was even that hidden laughter in the AI voice he’d come to love in Kat’s. For a second he had a sneaking suspicion he’d been suckered. Then he shook the thought away as being unfair to his almost wife, and the programming department.

“How does ‘Lady Gray’ sound?” he asked after a moment.

“
I like that, my captain.
”

“Good, then that is what it will be. But you might want to remember that I’m an admiral now.” He laughed.

“All pertinent data is loaded, other than Lady Gray …” Kat leaned over to kiss him and smiled, “… learning your particular idiosyncrasies, so you shouldn’t have any problems.” She didn’t tell Scott that Lady Jane had downloaded all her data to Lady Gray’s memory as well. Scott kissed them both goodbye, running the tips of his fingers down the side of Kat’s face, then his son’s.

“Look after yourself, my love, and I’ll see you two very soon,” he whispered in her ear, and kissed her again.

* * * * * *

Leaving quarters his escort formed up around him while he strolled across the base toward the gateway. His eyes didn’t miss the fact that Janet wasn’t in the lead anymore, and that she didn’t have her captain’s bar on her uniform. She was now a lieutenant again. He was betting that Brock had climbed on her case pretty hard, and demoted her as punishment. That was unfair; it was his stupidity that got them into trouble, not hers. He didn’t say anything though, since that would only undermine Gunny Brock’s authority. But he made a note to himself to get her promoted as soon as possible. If he thought he could make it aboard his ship without anyone noticing, he was wrong. The moment he stepped out of the gateway, a boatswain’s pipe shrilled out the traditional salute.

“Admiral on deck,” the young duty officer announced, coming to attention.

Scott returned the salute. “Carry on, ensign.”

The side boys fell out, and CPO Hardwick fell in step behind him.

“Nice touch, Chief, who thought up all the fluff and feathers?”

“New standing orders from the Admiralty, sir.”

“Oh?”

“As of 24:00 hours, all naval protocol will be observed on all ships of the Terran Defense Force, signed Hays, Admiral of the Black, Commanding,” he said with a slight chuckle.

“Hummm!” was Scott’s comment. “I just hope they don’t carry it too far.”

“No, sir, but it’s tradition, and you well know…” and they said in unison, “tradition is the glue that holds all this together.”

“Yes, you are right,” Scott said. “Let’s just hope we can continue to uphold it.”

“I have no doubt about that, sir, no doubt at all.”

Once in quarters, Scott changed into shipboard clothing, settling down with a cup of coffee and a stack of reports, interspersed with visits from various department heads. He found repairs were well underway, and she should be ready for space again within two weeks. For the first time in a long while, he pondered the effort behind all this. A quick check on yard personnel showed that more than just his people were involved now. Not only had all the original workers come back, but so had an army of other civilian personnel from around the world. Maybe these people couldn’t fight directly, but after seeing the videos of the battle, and hearing from the council members, they had put aside their beliefs to give him and his people a fighting chance to save the rape of Earth’s children.

The extraordinary effort could only have originated from the office of the President of the World Council, in his belief that Scott and his men could win this fight. Westwood’s self-centered myopia had blinded him to the sheer number of people and equipment now in orbit around Earth. If he thought Scott’s job organizing the fleet into a fighting unit was tough, then, whoever was directing the construction-and-repair effort was a genius. Ships were coming off the ways at an amazing rate, filling the gaps in his fleet. As the newer units came on line, the older ones were passed back for refitting and reassignment to picket duty, training ships, and all the other duties that any navy needs doing. Devon had even added two new classes of ships to his order of battle: a little missile ship, and something he called a gunship. He brought these to Scott’s attention one evening over dinner.

The missile ships or ring ships were nothing more than a mobile ring launch pad for capital missiles, and dependent on the rest of the fleet for their protection. Scott whistled at the sheer number of missiles they were projected to deliver, upping the offensive firepower of the fleet by a factor of a hundred. The other ship was a different kettle of fish, as Scott found out later in the week during a regular meeting with Devon and Karl, when Devon handed him a crude sketch.

“One of your people came up with this idea. What do you think, Scott?” he asked after Scott looked at the picture a while.

“I’d say, on face value, it’s a wacky idea, but I like it. It has the elements for one hell of a weapon.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Can you improve on this?” he asked, nodding toward the sketch.

“Already have, and had R&D take a look.”

“What about manufacturing? Can you give me cost estimates of time to completion for a prototype with available resources?”

“Yes, sir, I can,” Devon answered.

“Who came up with this idea, anyway?”

“One of your ex-tankers.”

“It figures.” Scott chuckled. “They’ve been moaning about having nothing to do, and can’t get into space since they got their new tanks. Maybe they’ll quit complaining now. By the way, make sure he gets a suitable reward.”

“It’s a simple idea really, if you think about it. You take an MBT, a main battle tank, and put it into space.”

“That’s the part that sounds crazy to me.”

“Not if you look at it in the right perspective. This tank would be about the size of a corvette. Think of it as a very heavy-duty fighter.” Just then, his holographic comm unit beeped, and answering the call, Kat’s grinning face popped up on the screen.

“I take it, that’s where Kat comes in?” he said, looking over at her holo.

Kat grinned back, cradling their son in her arms. “What struck me was the vulnerability of our fighters to heavy weapons fire.” She wiped baby milk from around the infant’s mouth. “Our fighters are really great for transatmospheric work and taking on their fighters, but for deep space combat missions, they have their limitations.”

“Fuel, ammo, and life support being three of them,” Karl added.

“So, we turn a main battle tank into this gunship?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Karl said. “With a three-man crew, a pilot, gunner, and engineer, that’s all she would need.”

“And armaments?” Scott looked at Devon.

“The guns are particle beam and rail launchers with the capacity to carry external ordnance and extended life-support packs.”

Scott pondered the thought of a twin-gunned tank the size of a corvette, most of its mass made up of armor. In concept the idea looked promising. The sketch was crude and it looked as if someone had taken two turtle shells and stuck them together, with twin snouts sticking out the front.

“Compared to a regular fighter, what’s the increase in firepower?”

“About a thousand percent. The two half shells are fifty-feet-thick of super-compressed laminated ceramic and titanium armor plate, which could absorb several hits from that main energy weapon the aliens use. That’s even without the added protection of the shields. Surround that with a shield that wouldn’t be out of place on a destroyer, and a main gun from a cruiser, and you’ve got one hell of a fighting machine. With the addition of external missile racks and the speed of a fighter, you have one hell of a hard target to take out.”