Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) (14 page)

“You call, sir?” his orderly said, rushing through the door.

“No, damn it, I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Get me Colonel Mitchell on the blower, now!” he yelled.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said, beating a hasty retreat. Pete came on the videophone a few minutes later.

“What’s up, Gunny?”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yes … why?”

“I just got the word from on high,” he pointed upward, “that we agreed to go on a fishing trip when his bloody highness came back, did we?” He snarled, looking at Pete’s image.

Pete looked thoughtful a moment. “I believe he did say something, but I wasn’t really paying attention at the time, why, are we going?”

“Yes, and if you can believe it, Scott is going to be here at 0430 to pick us up.”

“All right, see you at the pad at 0415, bye.” And saying that, Pete disconnected.

Brock sat there for a full minute just staring at the blank screen, his mind going around in a circle. He didn’t remember any such conversation about going fishing, so it was something else, but what?

A puzzled Kat met him in the undamaged number-three launch bay, and due to work pressures, she’d been unable to see Scott that evening or night. She saw Scott walking toward her with a long, cloth-wrapped bundle, and Kat wondered where he’d found fishing rods on the
New Zealand
. Scott came up to her whistling some old tune she half remembered.

“Where to, Admiral?” she asked, saluting. Being in civilian dress, he didn’t return it.

“Down below,” he said, heading for the hatchway, and ducking in before she could ask any more questions. Instead of sitting in the cabin, he’d climbed to the flight deck buckled into the second seat, waiting for her, his duffel bag beside him. “Let’s get this show on the road my love, we’re wasting valuable fishing time.”

Still puzzled, Kat sat in the pilot’s seat while Scott took the second seat, laying the duffle on the floor beside him, while she went through the prelaunch sequence as he buckled in, receiving clearance from flight control to launch. The electromagnetic launch rail shot them out into the blackness of space, and Scott had a chance to see the damage from the outside. It looked even worse from out here, and he could see why Ross said that if the third hit had struck where it was supposed to, the fourth one would have taken the bridge and CIC out completely.

“All right, mister, where the hell are we going!” she snapped, looking over at him. Scott placed the index finger of his left hand across his lips, indicating she should say no more.

“Take us down to the yards at moon base three, please.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, more puzzled than ever.

The rest of the trip was completed in silence, except for Scott humming softly under his breath. She landed as gently as a snowflake in the center of the pad on the crater wall, and waited for the ramp to slowly retract the shuttle through the airlock. The moment the panel indicated green, she hit the hatch button. With an ear-shattering crash, the door to the flight deck slammed shut, and the decompression alarm went off.

“Shit! The airlock’s empty!” Kat yelled, feeling cold-fear sweat pop out on her forehead.

Before she could reach for the emergency oxygen mask, Scott snapped, “Here, put this on,” handing her an emergency-breathing mask from the duffel bag he’d brought aboard. He settled it over her head, laying the tank on her lap. She leaned forward so he could snap the harness behind her head, and as she looked up, she saw the flight-deck air indicator flashing yellow, then red, showing no air in this cabin either. She looked quickly at Scott, seeing him place a second mask over his head and gasp for air. He leaned forward, and she closed the harness behind his head as well. The moment she reached for the comm switch he grabbed her hand and shook his head, indicating she shouldn’t. Crooking his finger, he stood, seeing her pull Lady Jane out of her slot as he opened the door to the flight deck. Now the pressure between the two sections was equalized; the door slid open easily, as did the inside and outside airlock doors. He forced her to run with him across the shuttle bay and into the airlock, hitting the control to flood it the moment the outer door sealed. A few seconds later, an explosion rocked the place, but it didn’t interrupt the cycle. The panel showed green, but even before he could touch the handle it spun, and the door was ripped open.

“Are you two all right?” Devon Hawking yelled, panic on his face, as Scott and Kat pulled off their helmets.

“Yes, we’re all right, what happened?” Scott demanded, a little shaken up, even though he’d half expected something like this might happen. This was just a little too close for comfort. Even so, he had to carry on to any unseen watchers as if this wasn’t something out of the ordinary.

“I don’t know, the airlock controls malfunctioned, and it indicated that it was full of air when it wasn’t, but why did you have your radio off, we tried to warn you but there was no answer?” He looked at Scott, then Kat for an explanation.

“My fault, I told the pilot to leave it off,” he explained, looking hard at Kat. “I didn’t want some fool calling me up with some excuse why I couldn’t go on my fishing trip.”

“That’s right,” Kat said, still unsettled. “The admiral has been looking forward to the trip for a long time, so I did what he ordered.”

“But your shuttle! It exploded.”

“Yes, it did. I wonder why,” Scott muttered, looking suitably perplexed. “Will you have your engineers look at it, see if they can figure out why?” Thankfully he was holding onto the bag and his fake fishing rods, so no one could see he hands shaking.

“Yes, yes I suppose so, not that there’s much to look at,” Devon commented, looking at the viewer. “But what about the fishing trip, it’s off of course.”

“No way!” Scott snapped. “I’m not letting a little thing like a fuel cell malfunction stop me. Find me another shuttle.” Without knowing who might be watching, he had to play it like it was nothing but a malfunction. Having people try to kill him wasn’t unusual, scary yes but he could handle that. He pushed the fear he felt at how close they’d come to killing Kat to the back of his mind, and kept his face impassive.

“But, but, but—”

“No buts, we’re going, so hustle that shuttle up here.”

“There should be one in bay three sir,” a technician standing by put in. “It was a routine flight downstairs.”

“Good idea, we’ll take it. Which way to the shuttle hangar?”

“Down this passageway, and take the elevator down two floors, sir,” the tech explained.

“Excellent, let’s go.”

Scott grabbed the arm of his two perplexed companions and took off down the hallway, whistling softly. He didn’t say anything until they exited the elevator in the shuttle hangar. Then he said, “Tell you what, instead of upsetting the shuttle schedule, why don’t we find a spare shuttle and Kat can fly us down.”

“Well, I suppose we can ask operations for a shuttle,” Devon said, not sure what was going on.

“No, no, no. You have the authorization to use anything up here, right?”

“Well … yes.”

“Kat, go find us something that flies and can hold six people. Have it back here in five minutes or less.”

“Aye-aye, Admiral.” Kat didn’t need someone to hit her in the head with a baseball bat to know something was going on, something that Scott wasn’t willing to talk about.

“We’re wasting valuable fishing time standing around here talking, now move.” Kat didn’t argue, just took off running.

“Which way to the nearest launch pad, Devon?”

“That way,” he said, pointing down the hangar. “Follow me,” he huffed, giving up trying to figure this out.

They trotted over to the area indicated, and in three minutes flat, Kat gently maneuvered an old shuttlecraft into the launch bay. The moment it touched down, she opened the side hatch, and they piled aboard.

“Flight control wants to know my authorization code,” she said, “what do I tell them?”

“Here, let me take it.” Devon dropped into the second seat. Whatever he told them, the red launch light started flashing, warning anyone in the tube that a craft was about to come screaming at them at seven feet per second. All along the two hundred-foot length of the launch tunnel were maintenance alcoves, so people could get out of the way quickly and seal themselves in for the duration of the launch. Less than a minute later, the tunnel’s walls rushed by them as they took off.

“Now where, Scott?” Kat said.

“Alpha base, and pronto. Don’t spare the horsepower, and if you get a traffic ticket for exceeding the speed limit, I’ll pay.” It was a gentle hint not to take any notice of traffic control or orbital protocol.

Kat plugged Lady Jane into the receiver slot, and took the old shuttle down like a star-fighter. She left Lady Jane to try to explain things to traffic control. At 0430, she landed on the pad at Alpha base and cracked the side hatch. Scott was waiting, and almost jerked Brock, Pete, and Hiro aboard, slamming the door behind them. All three quickly buckled in, since the craft was lifting off even before Scott had dogged the door.

“What the hell is the hurry, Scott!” Brock demanded. “Christ, it’s not as if the fish are going anywhere!”

“We’re fifteen minutes late already, and you know how I hate to lose that first fish,” he commented. “Did you bring the supplies, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Admiral-
san
, everything you asked for, plus a few extra items just in case,” Hiro answered, lifting a needle pistol out of the bag.

“Good man, always thinking ahead.” Scott dropped into a seat next to Brock, a smile on his face. “Did you bring enough food, I’m hungry.”

“I brought enough to feed a damn army!” Brock snapped, still grouchy. “Now—”

“Will I tell you where my secret fishing spot is? No way, you find your own. Excuse me while I whisper the secret to Kat.” With that he stood, and moving down the single-deck cabin he came up behind Kat and whispered in her ear, then kissed her on top of her head.

“Right, skipper, we’re on our way,” she said with a nod, heading the nose for the ground.

“A bit low aren’t we?” Pete observed as Scott came back and sat down.

“Are we?” Scott said. Kat was flying nap of the earth to avoid ground radar. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said, his nose in the hamper Brock brought with him. He spotted one of the four thermos jugs inside and pulled one out. “Aar, coffee,” he exclaimed, unscrewing the top.

“Figured you’d want coffee first thing, so I brought plenty.”

“Smart thinking, now I know why I promoted you,” Scott said, pouring himself a cup. None of the others wanted any; they were too nervous to do anything but hold onto the edge of their seats while Kat dodged between trees and around crags. Sixteen and a half minutes later, she landed the shuttle on an open patch in some trees at a place once called Mahia Peninsula, and cracked the hatch.

“All right everyone, let’s go fishing,” Scott announced, and they followed him outside.

He walked over to the trees, putting a finger to his lips. He then pointed at the bag Hiro was carrying and nodded. Hiro nodded in reply, set it on the ground and opened it. Scott snapped his fingers, and started undressing, pointing to Kat, the bag, and then the trees. With a frown, she stepped forward, and Hiro handed her some clothes, and she understood. As she walked past, Scott pointed at the clothes she wore, her wrist communicator, and Lady Jane, wagging his finger to indicate she shouldn’t bring them. Kat nodded and vanished into the trees.

So did the others, as one by one they stepped forward, taking the folded clothes from Hiro. After they’d changed, Scott carefully inspected each, to make sure none of them had forgotten to take something off. Brock and Pete had; they both still wore their Saint Christopher medals. Scott pointed and wagged his finger, watching as they reluctantly took them off and placed them with the rest of their things.