Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) (56 page)

* * * * * *

Hiro looked at Colonel Brock in wonder. He no longer paced back and forth but stood like a statue, his face still, as if it were carved from stone. Any nervousness he’d felt before the battle for Earth started was gone. Now the fog of war had closed in, and all he could do now was stand, watch, and wait. It was up to the individual men and women out there, and in space, to win or lose this battle, and nothing Brock or Admiral Scott Drake could do or say would change the outcome, no matter what the cost.

* * * * * *

“All units are to advance,” Scott ordered. “All ahead two-thirds helm.”

“Aye, aye, sir, all ahead two-thirds.”

“Lady Jane: order all units to come to battle formation Echo One.”

“
All units to battle formation Echo One confirmed, Admiral.
”

At 35,000 kilometers per hour, the Earth fleet bore down on the first enemy fleet, and as before, the alien fleet closed up into a spherical formation the moment the light and information reached their sensors. Now came the edge that Scott hoped he had, waiting until the last possible second to execute the order to change formation. By that time, even at the closer distances, the enemy commander wouldn’t be able to relay the information at light speed to change his formation to counter Scott’s. He would be committed to the course he’d set several minutes before.

At a slightly slower rate to lengthen the cool-down time between shots, the
Australia
pumped out the five-ton balls of destruction, one after the other at a steady rate. This would help keep the enemy fleet concentrated to ensure shield overlap and prevent any of the lethal balls from penetrating. That meant that at some point, the two fleets would merge, and one of two things would happen. Either the alien fleet commander would order his fleet to open up to englobe the small Earth fleet, or order them into a spear arrangement so he could pierce the Earth fleet formation. Both courses of action had the potential of inflicting, and absorbing, the maximum amount of damage to both fleets. Scott was betting the alien commander would go for the spear, since it meant he could inflict the maximum damage on the Earth fleet and minimize the damage to his, and he had more escort ships to absorb the damage. It was the same choice on Scott’s side, but going to a spear formation with a much larger fleet carried the penalty of absorbing a lot more damage to his fleet than he could inflict on the enemy. His only advantage was that his ships had side shields.

On command from Scott, behind them, the missile ships began belching out the next wave of capital missiles, except these all swung wide of the fleet, apparently heading for open space north, south, east, and west of both fleets. Tension on the
Australia
and the ships of the fleet mounted as they drove toward the enemy; mouths got dry, filled with the coppery taste of fear, and more than a few crewmen had the almost uncontrollable urge to pee their pants. On face value it looked insane, as if the whole of the Earth fleet seemed hell bent on a suicide dash to smashing themselves again an enemy fleet three times their size. Several of the bridge crew looked nervously over their shoulders at Scott, fear sweat running down their faces.

Trying to ignore everything around him, Scott volleyed orders at rapid-fire pace: “Steady as she goes—all hands close up and stand ready. Guns, on my count discontinue mass-driver bombardment. Lady Gray, put the gunslingers on notice that their services will be needed shortly.”

“
So notified, my admiral.
”

Scott felt the tension in his gut mounting as the moment of decision neared. On his order hung the success, or defeat, of Earth’s first major interstellar battle. And the fate of the human race. As Sun Tzu observed so rightly, “…
on deadly ground, fight!
”

CHAPTER EIGHT:              
…Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are

                wolves in the land….
LTC (RET) D. Grossman

“Now Lady Gray,” was all he needed to say.

Even as he gave the order, the message instantly flashed to all units of the fleet through the ring communication systems, with no time lag. Like some well-orchestrated ballet, five hundred ships moved into a long cylindrical formation, the
Australia
in the lead, to form a long spear. Ahead flashed the last two five-ton depleted uranium/boron balls, immediately followed by what could be described as a long school of silvery fish. In comparison to the behemoth ships around them, they seemed insignificant and fragile.

“Tallyho!” someone yelled over the radio, and for a moment Scott felt as if his heart stopped.

Even in an excited state, he recognized his wife’s voice. For a split second, he thought of ordering her back and away from the danger. He clamped down on the half-formed command and forced himself to relax. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms, safe, secure, shielded from the darkness beyond this hull, yet he knew he couldn’t. He was here and in as much, or maybe greater danger than she, but she’d never ask him to not go, not to defend Earth and their son, or not to put his life in harm’s way. Could he do less? With haunted eyes he watched in silent agony while the gunslingers charged straight at the demons from beyond the stars.

* * * * * *

Fleet Commander Writh felt his crest lift, puzzled by what he saw. The human fleet still surged toward him in a seemingly futile attempt to penetrate his shields. Interlocked tightly as they were now, it was an effort doomed to failure. As always, he softly cursed the time lag at moments like this, wishing for real-time information on what was actually happening outside the hull of his ship. It was a forlorn wish.

“Commander. The hewmans have launched.…”

“Well, youngling, what have they launched?”

“I … I don’t know, Commander.… They could be missiles … or some new type of ship,” he stuttered. The fleet commander snarled a curse and kicked up the magnification on his repeater screen beside his combat chair.

For a moment he thought of pushing the punishment button, but stayed his claw at what he was seeing. The youngling was right. It was impossible to tell what the cursed hewmans had launched at him. Ugly, brutish-looking things that defied description. They could be some type of new ship, or missiles, yet neither fit. His eyes flicked up to the main battle board, seeing the hewmans’ fleet bearing down on him, at a loss to know how to respond.

“Incoming missiles!” a youngling had jumped from his seat in excitement, unable to contain himself.

“Where from!” Subcommander Writh demanded.

“From … from everywhere.”

Missile tracks blossomed on the battle board and for a stunned moment, everything froze. The missiles
were
coming from every direction at once. Thousands of missile tracks swamped the board as they bore toward the outside of his fleet and the weakest part of his shield defense. In that one brief moment, Fleet Commander Writh got his wish. He saw in real time what was about to happen. The missiles would slam into the flanks of his fleet at the weakest point. His ships would turn to face this new threat, and thereby weaken his central protection, already somewhat degraded from the impact of those strange balls of something the hewmans kept firing at him. Behind them came the odd-looking ships, and behind those came …

He let out a roar of pure anger. The hewman fleet was going to alter its configuration to that of a spear and punch its way through his weakened defenses. Even as he watched, the outer ships of his fleet turned to put their strongest shields toward the incoming threat. Forward shield integrity diminished to the point where the strange-looking ships, if that’s what they were, could punch through behind the last two high-impact strikes. His eyes remained locked on the battle board, knowing before it happened that the hewman fleet would re-form. At the last possible moment before they struck they did, forming into a long spear shape aimed at the heart of his fleet, the gleaming white triangular-shaped hull of the Earth battleship in the lead.

* * * * * *

“Sir… I have a … a sort-of incoming transmission from the gunslingers.”

“Sort of?” Scott looked at his communication officer. “Put it on the main speaker.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” He shot Scott a quick smile over his shoulder as he did, and Scott understood when he heard the first sound. Someone on one of the gunslingers’ ships was playing an altered version of “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” The heavy drumbeat behind the song echoed throughout the ship, and even Scott felt its pull. He remembered another battle, long ago in time, but not where he’d heard that song.

“Oh yeah! Lady Gray. Pipe it to all ships and keep playing it.”

“
Yes, my admiral.
” Scott could hear the note of puzzlement in her voice even as she answered. She’d probably badger him after as to why he wanted it played over and over again. The new guys wouldn’t understand, but even now he could see a few of them tapping their feet in time with the song.

“Comm, give me an open channel to the fleet.”

“Aye, aye sir. You have an open channel to the fleet now.”

“All hands: sing it out loud and clear, boys and girls.” Even with the altered words, it pulled them all in.

There’s a yellow rose on Terra,

that I am going to see,

Nobody else could miss her,

not half as much as me.

She cried so when I left her,

it like to broke my heart,

And if I ever find her,

we nevermore will part.

She’s the sweetest little rosebud

that Terra ever knew,

Her eyes are bright as diamonds,

they sparkle like the dew;

You may talk about your Clementine,

and sing of Rosalee,

But the yellow rose of Terra

is the only girl for me.

When the Rio Grande is flowing,

the starry skies are bright,

She walks along the river

in the quiet summer night:

I know that she remembers,

when we parted long ago,

I promise to return again,

and not to leave her so.

She’s the sweetest little rosebud

that Terra ever knew,

Her eyes are bright as diamonds,

they sparkle like the dew;

You may talk about your Clementine,

and sing of Rosalee,

But the yellow rose of Terra

is the only girl for me.

Oh now I’m going to find her,

for my heart is full of woe,

And we’ll sing the songs together,

that we sung so long ago

We’ll play the banjo gaily,

and we’ll sing the songs of yore,

And the yellow rose of Terra

shall be mine forevermore.

She’s the sweetest little rosebud

that Terra ever knew,

Her eyes are bright as diamonds,

they sparkle like the dew;

You may talk about your Clementine,

and sing of Rosalee,

But the yellow rose of Terra

is the only girl for me.

Scott couldn’t help but sing along, the drumbeats driving them forward into the heart of battle. As predicted, the cloud of missiles did what he hoped, forcing the outer ships to turn to protect themselves and thereby weakening the forward defense shield. Without instant communications, the enemy commander couldn’t order those ships back into formation before the gunslingers hit their weakened shield. As he’d hoped, the gunslingers punched their way through and wreaked havoc inside the alien fleet … now hull-to-hull, their ion cannons and particle beam weapons ripped into the guts of every ship they passed. Ships tried to turn to confront this new threat while orders and counter orders flowed slowly from one ship to the other and from the command ship. The
Australia
didn’t get away scot-free though, and Scott felt the hammer blows of enemy missiles detonating against his hull.