Echo of Tomorrow: Book One (Drake chronicles)

by Rob Buckman

  “So, why cold sleep?”

  “It seemed like a way out. They owed us, and were more than willing to slide us into an icebox, more out of embarrassment than anything.”

  “Oh?”

  “We, the one that survived our little trip across the border became something of a pariah. At first it was okay, lots of interviews on the TV talk show circuit, but then that stopped.”

  “All of us suffered some sort of discrimination of one sort or another as well as PTSD, and in the end cold sleep looked like the best option.”

  “And,” Brock added, “I sort of liked the idea of waking up with you around, General. Got use to living in a world with you in it.” He gave Scott a lopsided grin.

  “You are crazy, the whole lot of you!”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “So you all got together and convinced the Government to freeze you?”

  “That’s about it. I think they were glad to get rid of us.”

  “Their loss, my gain, and I’m damn glad you did. This is going to be an almost impossible task as it is, but having you all here will help.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Tell the rest of them, I said so, will you Brock. I want all of them to know how much this means to me.”

  “Aye-aye, sir.”

  * * * * * *

  A week later, the President came in person with four of the World Council members, and three scientists. The look on his face said the news wasn't good. Scott met them at the main entrance the moment the door sentry spotted an official looking group of vehicles approaching.

  "Call out the guard.” He snapped into the wrist communicator.

  Might as well impress the President with a little BS, he muttered to Brock and he raced for the elevator. He met the President and his group at the main door just as they came in pass the honor guard.

  They'd come to attention, presenting their arms, in this case a wicked looking sword and a crossbows the armorer had whipped up in the workshop slung over their shoulders. Not very impressive from a twentieth century point of view, but here it worked. A few members of the party looked positively green even if they didn’t understand the purpose of the crossbow.

  "We have just had another visit from the aliens.” The President announced as Scott walked up.

  "How many this time?” Scott asked.

  "Twelve thousand from the City of New Mecca, another three thousand from Bombay, and eight thousand from Nanking.” He said in a soft voice.

  "Good God!” Someone in the background muttered.

  "Tell me you managed to get pictures this time."

  "Yes Mr... General Drake,” an elderly man with graying hair said.

  “Acting on your suggestion we mounted video equipment at central locations and captured the aliens rounding up the children." He held up a memory crystal.

  "Excellent, now we have something to work with.” Taking the wafer, he passed it to Brock.

  "Runner!" He called into his wrist unit and a moment later a young girl came running up. It was the young girl from Skinner's apartment. Now dressed a smaller version of what the Marines wore, and looked more confident.

  "Yes, Captain Brock?” She said in a soft voice.

  "Captain Mitchell, on the double.” He said, handing the wafer to her. In a flash, she was gone, vanishing between the men a woman moving along the hallway. One of the President's parties gave her an appraising look as this was going on. The look didn't go unnoticed by Scott and a few others.

  "What do you intend to do now General Drake?” The President asked, impressed by what he'd seen.

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing? I don't understand."

  "What can we do, the aliens have been and gone. All we can do now is study the record and plan for the next time."

  "Oh, I see. I had hoped you had a plan to go after them or something." He didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on his face.

  "With what, our bare hands?" Scott didn't know what else to say. “The sooner you get us to New Zealand the sooner we can start doing something."

  "Yes, I see. Along those lines, I have arranged for you and your... people to relocate very soon. The construction bots are working around the clock to prepare a base. Hopefully we should be able to move you in a week or less."

  "Yes, the sooner the better. What about workshops and such?"

  "Construction is almost completed on the building you requested and all of the equipment we could find that matched your description has been installed."

  "The cost Westwood, tell him about the cost!” One of the other members of the party prompted.

  "Yes, I suppose I should mention the cost..."

  "Cost?” Scott repeated. "You’ve got to be joking. How much is each of those children worth to you?” He asked, looking directly at the man who'd made the suggestion. The man backed away as if fearing an attack.

  "I was just pointing out that this idea is very costly, and that it had better work."

  "Or what? Do you have any alternative?"

  "Well, no, not exactly, but I personally feel that our time and money would be better spent on attempts to communicate with these aliens. I'm sure we can negotiate an arrangement." He said off-handily.

  "Negotiate an agreement?” Scott clenched his jaw. “Mr. President. I would strongly suggest that you get this person out of here, for the good of his health.” Scott growled. “I have the feeling this building is very unhealthy for him.” Scott clenched his fists to suppressing his anger.

  "Do you think so?” The man said, oblivious to the look on Scott’s face.

  "Oh yes, if you stay here you would be surprised how fast your health could deteriorate."

  "Germs you mean, bugs you brought with you?" He drew the sleeve of his robe across his mouth, looking alarmed.

  "Something like that.” Scott hissed. The President caught on quicker than expected. The thought of negotiating with aliens that stole children made him feel sick.

  "I think you are right. I will leave you to make arrangements for the move." With that, he and his party left.

  "Thanks Scott.” Brock said as they vanished out the door.

  "For what!” He snapped almost biting Brock's head off.

  "I just made fifty bucks."

  "What?” He asked, confused for a moment. "Fifty bucks on what?"

  "I took the bet that you couldn’t hold your temper and not rip that asshole’s head off." It broke the tension and Scott smiled.

  "Who was dumb enough to take the bet?"

  "A couple of dim light bulbs I know, who shall remain nameless."

  "Then you lost, we don't have any money.” He said with a smile turning to walk off down the hallway, feeling better and whistling to himself.

  "Shit! I forgot that." Brock looked around for the troopers, but couldn't spot them. “I think I'll have a word with them later." Scott and Brock made their way down to the temporary G2 section and walked in.

  "Got anything worth seeing Pete.” Scott asked, squeezing into the room.

  "Yes, but you're not going to like it."

  "Run it.” He said, dropping into a seat.

  The holoprojector came to life, showing an open park with trees in the foreground and a large lake to one side. Apparently, the camera had swung round and focused after the alien spacecraft had landed, and apart from its size, little could be seen. The craft was large and boxy, something like a big metal barge with an open ramp at the end facing them and nothing outstanding or special about it. If this was an example of an alien spaceship it was very disappointing, very un-Hollywood. The scene changed to a street view, with people standing around on a wide street with tall building on each side while a line of young people and children, all naked, walked down the centerline, herded along by bulky looking aliens. The camera zoomed in and for the first time, they saw the enemy.

  Its appearance was humanoid, about six feet tall, wearing silvery colored body armor, boots and battle helmet on their heads. The facep
late was up and a somewhat reptilian looking face peered out. The most noticeable feature were the scales on its greenish blue skin and a protruding jaw that gave its face a snout like appearance, with forward looking eyes. Definitely a predator. They wore a utility belt of some kind with unknown functions and their only weapon was what looked like a shock baton, similar to the ones the security people here use. The other scene were much the same, different view of the spacecraft and aliens rounding up young people and children in the street. The most appalling view was that of the adults standing around doing absolutely nothing to prevent the abduction. In some cases, the alien simply ripped the head scarf off the women to look at her face. If she was young enough the alien would simply strip her of clothing and push her down to the street to join others being herded towards the space barge. They seemed especially pleased if they found a pregnant woman, no matter what age, herding her along with the rest.

  "Not much to go on is it.” Scott murmured.

  "At least we know what they looked like.” Someone said in the darkened room.

  "A lot of fucking good that is.” Someone else muttered loudly.

  "Can it people, we'll get to the analysis later.” Pete Mitchell's voice cut in.

  "They’re right Pete, there isn't much to go on."

  "Give me a while to analyze the footage will you." He sounded disappointed and harassed at the same time, and Scott couldn’t blame him.

  "You've got it, but be prepared to pull out very soon."

  "Got you.”

  With that, Scott headed for the top floor to his makeshift office while Brock took off to organize the move. When he arrived, he found the mad Doctor, as he called him, inside with a group of people sitting around waiting for him.

  "What can I do for you, Doctor?” He asked, nodding to the Doctor’s escort.

  "I have some people here I think you would like to meet."

  "Go ahead."

  "This is Doctor Chase Sandburg.” He announced, looking pleased with himself. Scott shook hands, noticed that this man was not as young as the others, or any of this group. He cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor.

  "Hello Doctor Chase Sandburg, you look a little worse for wear."

  "You could say that, but considering I was sixty years old and dying of radiation poisoning at the time they froze me, I'm not complaining, believe me."

  "How come you couldn't bring him back the same as us?” He asked the gnome.

  "Well, you see this man had extensive damage to his genetic code so I had no way of knowing exactly how to reconstruct it."

  "So how come they put you in?" Scott asked the newly resurrected Doctor.

  "You might say for services rendered." Doctor Sandburg looked pensive for a moment. "I was working in the ruins of LA, trying to save as many people as I could.” He sighed, thinking back. His comment sent a jolt through Scott, but he kept his face straight. “The price was a massive overdose and radiation poisoning, so as a way of saying 'thank you' they stuck me in the freezer with the hope that in the future they'd find a way to neutralize it and repair the damage."

  "In that case Doctor, you look great." Scott shook hands again and moved on to the next person in line. He didn’t dwell on the fact that the Doctor had worked in the bomb shattered LA

  "This is a Captain Jack Price.” He said, indicating a well-built man in his early twenties sitting on the couch.

  "Hello Captain Price, how are you doing in all this confusion?"

  "Not too bad, although it is a little difficult to swallow all in one go."

  "I know how you feel. Where do you hail from, and why were you in cold sleep."

  "That’s easy, we," He said, indicating the other, "we were placed in cold sleep as a practice session in preparation for the Mars mission, but it looks as if it got cancelled after they froze us."

  "Mars mission!" That took him by surprise. "When did they put you in there?"

  "In November 2026."

  "So you went in after me then."

  "I don't know, who are you?"

  "Oh, forgive me, I had other things on my mind and forgot to introduce myself. I'm General Scott Drake." He said casually. It was as if he'd set a bombshell off under the group. All but one shot to his or her feet and came to rigid attention.

  "General Scott!” Captain Price said in awe. "Sorry sir, I didn't recognize you, I thought you were dead, or older, or..." He cut a salute and held it, unable to think of anything to say.

  "Sit down Captain, please, you are going to strain yourself doing that.” He returned the salute and the Captain relaxed somewhat. Scott on the other hand was watching the last member of the group from the corner of his eye as she stood up.

  She did come to attention, but didn't look happy about it. Even at this distance, she was soft on the eye.

  "As they say, the reports of my death, etc., and yes, I was older, but that mad gnome of a Doctor standing next to you has been playing around in my gene pool."

  "Pardon?"

  "Genetics Captain.” The young women who'd stood up last commented.

  "Oh, I see." He didn’t, but wasn’t about to parade his ignorance.

  "Did he do a little work on you, or were you that young when you went in?"

  "I think he must have General, but I thought it was part of the cold sleep process. May I introduce the remainder of my team."

  "By all means." The Captain then went down the ten-person team who'd been selected to go on the Mars mission, but Scott hardly paid attention.

  His eyes were on the young woman at the end. In appearance, she was about seventeen, but he doubted that. Her slim figure fitted the form fitting jump suit in all the right places, and then some. By any standard of reference you’d like to use, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

  "And this is Lieutenant Katharina Moore, better known as Kat.” Their eyes met, and he felt her anger. This lady was very pissed off about something. Scott in his breathe, feeling something else he hadn’t felt for a long time, and a shiver ran up his spine. He brushed the thought away and brought his attention back to the look in Lieutenant Katharina Moore sucked his breath eyes.

  “Her specialties is astrophysics, and she is the pilot of the mission by way of the US Air force Academy and finished top in her class.” Scott held his hand out, by she didn't take it, saluting instead.

  "It would appear that the lieutenant is a little upset about something.” Scott commented, looking her directly in the eyes.

  "Kat, where are your manners.” Captain Price whispered.

  "I'll salute his rank, but I'll be damned if I'll shake his hand." She hissed her green eyes full of suppressed fury.

  "Lieutenant! You are out of order.” Price snapped. Scott held his hand up.

  "No, she’s not, and you are wrong about having to salute me.”

  “Pardon. I don’t understand.” Price looked confused.

  “Whatever organization we belonged to that required us to follow that custom is long gone, three hundred years in the past. So Ms. Moore you have a beef with me, spit it out." He said it as mildly as he could, though he doubted, he intimidated her.

  "The General is right!” She answered coldly, understanding before Price did. “My service ended three hundred years ago, and my need to be polite."

  "So spit it out Moore, what has your panty in a knot?" Even that comment upset her and she clenched her fists.

  "What you did General Drake was wrong. You disobey orders to withdraw your troops, stand down and stop the invasion.” She snapped, her beautiful face a mask of fury. “You slaughtered God knows how many people and totally destroyed three Cities with nuclear weapons, and obliterated a dozen more with conventional.” Scott nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He’d made the bastards pay for what they did.

  “By the last count was twenty seven million people wiped off the face of this planet because of you.” He’d asked for it, and she was letting him have it with both barrels.

  “On top of that the Mars mission is scrub
bed and we end up in this hellhole with no county, and no future.” She got out between gritted teeth. “Is that sufficient reason for me to be pissed off?” She snapped, glaring at him. Her beautiful green eyes blazed with anger, all directed at him. Scott walked over and sat down on the edge of his improvised desk, stroking his chin.