Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) by Rob Buckman

discovered that being his steward was their secondary function. Their main duty was to be his personal security detail, and they would rotate each shift so the others could also fulfill their duty to him. Scott thought about it, understanding that it would do little good protesting, and possibly insult them if he tried to change it. He did have a word with CPO Hardwick and explained the situation to him. The old CPO nodded in understanding, yet Scott was curious as to why they should show such deference to him. But Scott figured it was because they liked him and respected not only his rank but also him.
     
    The dinner went off without a hitch, with toasts to the respective governing bodies and the traditional sit-down toast to the King. Scott found that one a bit amusing, but kept his thoughts to himself. The junior officers were suitably intimidated at being in such exalted company, even if most looked as if they were of the same age as them, but even sitting down at the same table with legends such as Admiral Drake and some of the other “Immortals” was something only a few had ever dreamed of. Most of the midshipmen and ensigns were all FNG’s and a few years ago were fat, dumb and happy living in “la la land,” as one marine put it.
     
    They’d all lost someone, or knew of a child or friend taken by the aliens. They also knew what their so-called government was doing about it … nothing! Scott Drake and his people, who they were now part of, were the only defense Earth had. They also knew as most soldiers do, that they could never go home again. For one, the government would never let them, and two, they could never live in that dream world again. Most were still, nominally at least, Muslim, yet few practiced, especially the praying five times a day part. One recruit had done that in training, right in the barracks, even after being told they had to do it in private, just like the rest of the religions had to. That didn’t make sense to him, since there was only one religion, Islam, or so he thought.
     
    That was until people started arriving from Japan and England and they discovered there was a religion called the Church of England, and Judaism, and Shinto, Buddhist, Catholic, Mormon, and others. An instructor walked in just as the recruit was kneeling to pray, and the look of fury on the petite corporal’s face turned them instantly to stone. She hadn’t said a word, just walked up behind the unfortunate man, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and dragged him into the toilet. Whatever she said to him in there they never knew, the young man refused to say, but he never again prayed where anyone could see him. They understood very quickly about religious tolerance, as they did about color and gender, and for some it was a hard lesson. Marine instructors had no patience with the trainees when it came to the subject of color and gender and had about as much tolerance and compassion as an exploding volcano.
     
    After dinner, the party moved to another room, Scott ordered the smoking lamp lit, and his steward passed out cigars and brandy. Thankfully, they found a few secret cigar smokers in Cuba of all places.
     
    “How’s the rest of the ship, Jack?” Scott asked as he lit up, savoring the taste of a real Cuban cigar again.
     
    “Good, sir,” Jack Bingham answered with a smile. “Everyone is breathing a sigh of relief and all the messes are having a party of one sort or another.”
     
    “Probably having more fun than we are, I bet.”
     
    “Yes, sir. I hear the marines in particular are, umm … partying hard.”
     
    “I bloody well hope so.” Scott motioned CPO Hardwick over.
     
    “Yes, sir,” he murmured in a soft voice.
     
    “I hope my show of appreciation found its way into the right hands?”
     
    “That it did, sir. And welcome it was.”
     
    “Good.”
     
    Over in one corner, the ship builders had added a simulated piano, and it wasn’t long before someone was tinkering