Echo of Tomorrow: Book Two (The Drake Chronicles) by Rob Buckman Page A
Authors: Rob Buckman
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with the keyboard. A quick look showed it was Devon Hawking, his ship designer. Scott invited Devon and his people to attend the after-dinner party. It wasn’t out of disrespect, but there just wasn’t sufficient places for everyone, plus Devon and his crew were still working a few bugs out of the system. Scott walked over and shook hands all around.
“She’s a great ship, Devon.”
“Yes, she’s not bad for a first effort, considering the time restraints.”
“Think you can do better?”
“Oh yes. We haven’t even started to delve into the technology available. Who knows, next week we’ll find something new and build you a ship twice as powerful.”
“I won’t say we don’t need it, since I know in the near future we will.”
“Yes, especially when you take the fight to the enemy.”
“By the way, what’s that you’re playing? It sounds familiar.”
“An old song, at least by my count it is. Heard it while I was looking through your new database.” He chuckled. “You do have a wide assortment of material in there. Never saw a Bugs Bunny cartoon before. My god I thought I was going to have a heart attack laughing so much.”
“Yeah, he does have that effect on people.” Scott felt a momentary stab of nostalgia, and Saturday morning cartoons with his children flashed across his mind.
“I downloaded a copy of the song, want to hear it?”
“By all means.” Devon launched into a version of “The Last Farewell,” and Scott remembered. In some way the song was sad, especially for someone who understood the real meaning, and he stood staring into his drink while Devon played.
After that, he quickly launched into a very funny song about the London Double Decker Omnibus, and even if many people didn’t understand the references, it still made them laugh the way he sang it. Scott circled around as the music played, bumping into Kat on more than one occasion. She used the close quarters to rub up against him, looking innocent when he gave her a sharp look.
“Something you need , Admiral?” she asked in a sweet voice as she moved away.
“My hand and your backside!” he murmured in her ear when she came back around. She looked at him wide-eyed and bit her lower lip to suppress a giggle.
As the evening wore on, the music got livelier, and a few people started dancing. Scott used the excuse to snuggle up to Kat for a while. Gradually, the party wound down and Devon started playing the more nostalgic tunes. Some of the older people knew them and joined their voices to others. It was the last tune that got Scott, and even he joined in.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of dead you’ll find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
“Land of Song!” cried the warrior bard,
“Tho’ all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said no chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav’ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!
As sad as it was, Scott felt better after hearing the last verse, one he’d never heard before.
The minstrel boy will return one day,
When we hear the news, we will cheer it.
The minstrel boy will return we pray,
Torn in body, perhaps, but not in spirit.
Then may he play his harp in peace,
In a world such as Heaven intended,
For every quarrel of Man must cease,
And every battle shall be ended.
“Damn!” Scott muttered. “Thomas Moore wrote that in 1852, and I hope like hell that’s true.”
He and Kat didn’t manage to get a few hours sleep, and he didn’t get to spank her delicious bottom, citing the lack of energy as his
“She’s a great ship, Devon.”
“Yes, she’s not bad for a first effort, considering the time restraints.”
“Think you can do better?”
“Oh yes. We haven’t even started to delve into the technology available. Who knows, next week we’ll find something new and build you a ship twice as powerful.”
“I won’t say we don’t need it, since I know in the near future we will.”
“Yes, especially when you take the fight to the enemy.”
“By the way, what’s that you’re playing? It sounds familiar.”
“An old song, at least by my count it is. Heard it while I was looking through your new database.” He chuckled. “You do have a wide assortment of material in there. Never saw a Bugs Bunny cartoon before. My god I thought I was going to have a heart attack laughing so much.”
“Yeah, he does have that effect on people.” Scott felt a momentary stab of nostalgia, and Saturday morning cartoons with his children flashed across his mind.
“I downloaded a copy of the song, want to hear it?”
“By all means.” Devon launched into a version of “The Last Farewell,” and Scott remembered. In some way the song was sad, especially for someone who understood the real meaning, and he stood staring into his drink while Devon played.
After that, he quickly launched into a very funny song about the London Double Decker Omnibus, and even if many people didn’t understand the references, it still made them laugh the way he sang it. Scott circled around as the music played, bumping into Kat on more than one occasion. She used the close quarters to rub up against him, looking innocent when he gave her a sharp look.
“Something you need , Admiral?” she asked in a sweet voice as she moved away.
“My hand and your backside!” he murmured in her ear when she came back around. She looked at him wide-eyed and bit her lower lip to suppress a giggle.
As the evening wore on, the music got livelier, and a few people started dancing. Scott used the excuse to snuggle up to Kat for a while. Gradually, the party wound down and Devon started playing the more nostalgic tunes. Some of the older people knew them and joined their voices to others. It was the last tune that got Scott, and even he joined in.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of dead you’ll find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
“Land of Song!” cried the warrior bard,
“Tho’ all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said no chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav’ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!
As sad as it was, Scott felt better after hearing the last verse, one he’d never heard before.
The minstrel boy will return one day,
When we hear the news, we will cheer it.
The minstrel boy will return we pray,
Torn in body, perhaps, but not in spirit.
Then may he play his harp in peace,
In a world such as Heaven intended,
For every quarrel of Man must cease,
And every battle shall be ended.
“Damn!” Scott muttered. “Thomas Moore wrote that in 1852, and I hope like hell that’s true.”
He and Kat didn’t manage to get a few hours sleep, and he didn’t get to spank her delicious bottom, citing the lack of energy as his
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