Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) (13 page)

* * * * * *

“Well,” Sergeant Rivers said, “that didn’t take long.”

Pete sat back in his chair and nodded. “We’ll have to thank everyone for contributing to the screaming. It even had me convinced some poor sucker was getting tortured.” He chuckled.

“Thank god these people don’t understand psychological warfare.” Rivers shared Pete’s amusement. “A little disorientation with the lights screwing up his time sense, and some great sound effects, and he sang like a canary.”

“At least we’ve found some of the others, but I’m betting the Ayatollah snuck in a few more this one didn’t know about,” Pete muttered.

“True, but it’s a start. We’ll just have to tighten up our screening and hidden cameras to catch any others stealing our secrets.” Rivers rubbed his chin in thought.

“I’m just wondering how much they’ve stolen already.” Pete had a worried look on his face now. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to make a lot of our stuff.”

Rivers nodded. “It takes more than just building the weapons, it’s knowing how and when to use them.”

“Hopefully, we’re ahead of the curve on weapon design, but I’ll put Brock and Admiral Scott on notice that we’d better watch our backs from now on.”

CHAPTER TWO:               …
I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue                                  robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something                                 wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell…
LTC (RET)                                                Dave Grossman

Scott delayed the funeral for those killed in battle until they reached lunar orbit, thinking it right that the men and women who’d died should be buried on Earth. He arranged for the coffins to be loaded with all due ceremony onto the shuttlecraft and ferried down to Alpha base. Invitations were sent to the President of the World Council and any others who wished to attend, and to England and Japan, and the mass funeral was set for three days’ time. The moment they dropped into orbit Scott sent word to Devon Hawking, and Lieutenant Hiro Naguchi, his old sparring partner at the academy. When he arrived, he first saluted, then bowed, and Scott responded.

“How would you like a trip home to Japan to see your mother?” was the first question Scott asked. A slight frown passed over Hiro’s face since he didn’t have a mother; she’d died in childbirth. His face became placid, hiding his puzzlement.

“I do not understand the honorable Admiral-
san
’s words.”

“I know you haven’t seen her for a long time, but I’m sure that Mrs. Yamaguchi would be glad to see her son.” He held Hiro’s gaze, hoping the message would get through. It did.

“My honorable mother is always glad to see her son, and listen to the news he brings,” he answered at last, knowing that Scott had some reason for misidentifying Sensei Yamaguchi as his mother.

“Excellent, I’ve sent word to the captain, and he agreed that you should be given shore leave for twenty-four hours. I hope she’s better now, seeing how poorly she was the last time we met. Would you give her my personal condolences, and this message?” He held out a folded sheet of paper. He’d only just finished writing it. “Ask her to please forgive my poor language skills. It has been many years since I used them,” he added.

“Any note from you, honorable Admiral, would be welcome, no matter how poor the language.” They bowed again, saluted, and Hiro left. A moment later, Hawking returned his call.

“Good morning, Admiral, I hear you ran into the little buggers and beat the shit out of them,” Hawking said gleefully, his usually dour face lit with a smile.

“We did, and we did, but not without a price.”

“So I have heard.” The smile slipped. “How did she hold up?” he asked, referring to the ship.

“Not bad, but I bent her a little.”

“Not to worry, they were made to be bent,” he said, his smile returning. “So what can I do for you, Scott?”

“Have you been fishing recently?”

“Fishing?” he asked, puzzled. “No, I can’t say I have, not much water up here on the moon you know.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m arranging a little fishing trip for tomorrow and you’re invited.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Admiral, I’m up to my …”

“No excuses will be accepted on this one, Devon, the shuttle will land at 0400 New Zealand time, and you will be ready.” He grinned at the puzzled man and cut the connection. He then punched in the number for Kat’s office.

“Group here, what do you want!” She sounded frazzled.

“Admiral commanding battleship
New Zealand
to Group Captain Moore, you will present yourself at my shuttle at 0330 ship time to ferry me to the moon, and then back to Earth, any questions, Group Captain?” When he used that tone of voice, Kat knew better than to argue.

“No, sir. I will be there as ordered, Group out,” she said, signing off. The moment she did, she sat back and looked at the monitor. Scott’s face had been dead serious, and for whatever reason, he wasn’t telling her anything.

Lieutenant Hiro Naguchi was also puzzled, as he read the note. The admiral hadn’t sealed it, thereby giving him tacit approval to read it. The message was nothing more than a list of clothing and instructions for him to meet the admiral at Alpha base at 0330 hours tomorrow.

* * * * * *

The shuttle dropped directly out of orbit to Japan at the explicit directions of the captain, so whatever was going on, the admiral didn’t want any delays. As they thundered in, Hiro gave directions where to land to the pilot, and within half an hour he was bowing to Sensei Yamaguchi and handing her the message.

“Sit and be comfortable my son, and begin telling me all you have seen and heard,” she instructed. With a bow of his head, he began, quickly and concisely reporting everything of importance he could remember. He’d been sending her weekly reports, all written in Japanese, but in code as well, so the sensei was well aware of everything that had happened up to the date he reported aboard ship.

“Good,” she commented when he’d finished. “Now give me your assessment of the one called Scott Drake.”

“He is much more than he seems, Sensei.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing specific. He is a true leader and shows no preference to one race over another. All are treated with respect.” The old woman nodded, hearing his words, as if she expected no less. “He assigns duties and expects you to perform them without checking on you. You are expected to report to your superior if you are not able to perform, but so far the choices he has made are correct.”

“Do you think he had an ulterior motive for constructing a fleet?”

“No, Sensei, he is no dictator, nor has wishes of becoming emperor of this planet.”

“Excellent, then my instincts about him were correct … and his path into the future lies in another direction, one he will tread for a long time.” She didn’t elaborate. “Now, about this list. Do you have any idea why he would need these things?”

“No, Sensei. None whatsoever. He gave no indication that it was a list.”

“Tell me what he said. Exactly.” Hiro repeated Scott’s statement, word for word.

Hira Yamaguchi sat perfectly still for fifteen minutes, her agile mind going over every word. It was clear that he had sent Hiro here in secret, wanting no one to know why he was coming. It was also clear that it was impossible to hide the fact that he had come, so the need for another reason. In one way, his actions were nothing out of the ordinary, and anyone seeing or hearing them would think he was sending a man on shore leave to visit an ailing mother. She wasn’t ailing, nor was she Hiro’s mother, even with the similarity of last names, again, perfect cover. On the other hand, Admiral Scott didn’t hide things from his people, and to do so was out of the ordinary. She pondered the problem.

“I think you need to take a bath, Hiro
-san
, to wash the dirt of travel from your body.” Hiro bowed, his face blank. The sensei didn’t ask one to bathe; therefore she had another reason.

“Yes, Mother. I do wish to wash the dirt off.”

“Good, undress and leave your clothes in the meditation room, and I will meet you in the bathhouse.”

Warm water caressed his body as Hiro stepped into the bath, and as instructed he’d placed his navy uniform in the meditation room, which was on the other side of the compound. Madam Yamaguchi was already in the water, sitting on the bottom by the waterfall. She motioned him over.

“There is a spy, possibly on the ship, or the moon base, who has a way to obtain information,” she began without any formality. “And I begin to see through the silken screen.”

“I am at a loss, Sensei.”

“Scott Drake suspects this spy might have planted a listening device in the very fabric of the uniform you wear, which was the reason I asked that you leave it in the meditation room.” Hiro bowed his head, understanding and approving the thinking.

“With the present level of technology of this planet, we and Scott Drake are at a disadvantage. We do not know where, or what such a device might look like, so all precautions to even discuss this subject must be taken.”

“I agree, Sensei. Now Admiral Drake’s clothing list makes sense.”

“Precisely. The clothing will be all natural fibers, and made here on the looms of the village, to eliminate the possibility of any device being in the clothing. I suspect he will go on a trip when you give him the items, and he will go somewhere with others, change, walk a distance to a place where he cannot be overheard or spied upon, to discuss finding this spy, or spies.”

“It will be difficult, Sensei. There is no telling where he, or she might be, or if there is more than one.”

“Agreed. I am tempted to send your uniform down below for examination, but if there is one there and the transmission is cut off, or if we fail to discover if there is one there, we might give the position of the vaults away.”

“So it is better to do nothing?”

“Exactly. But be aware of what you say while wearing it, until such time as it is proven that there is or isn’t such a device.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“You will be at the funeral, yes?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“Do not speak to me. Should I speak to you, you will act as a respectful son should, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sensei.” He smiled slightly, since Sensei Yamaguchi was more of a mother to him than his biological mother who had died giving him birth.

“Good. Now relax and enjoy your bath, soon it will be time for you to go.”

Hiro bowed his head as she stood up and left the bath. He couldn’t help but notice what a fine woman she was, even for all her age. In all the time anyone had known her, she had never taken a man, although many would have been more than willing to act as her pillow mate. No one was even sure how old she was, only that she had ruled the clan since all of them were children. In the end he pushed those thoughts aside and relaxed in the water.

* * * * * *

“Look, Gunny, I don’t want an argument about this, we agreed to go on this fishing trip before I left, so shut up bitching about how much work you have, and round up Pete. I’ll be there at 0430 to pick you and him up,” Scott growled into the videophone. Seeing Brock grinding his teeth, Scott left him spluttering excuses into a dead instrument, grinning slightly to himself.

“What the hell, Scott!” Brock yelled, before he realized the screen was blank. “Fishing trip! Fishing trip! What the hell is that man talking about?”