SUNDAY SCHOOL (TRAMPS Book 2)

by Ray Blackwell

  “WHY?” Rand demanded.

  “It was too much to resist,” the old man said.

  Rand glanced at the radar. It was clear, although the system was short range and out-dated.

  “Well, if we get out of here before they show up you might live.”

  Rand stepped backwards toward the door when the radio crackled.

  “Are they still there?” came the authoritative voice.

  Both the old man and the nephew stood motionless, with hands raised.

  “I repeat, are the fugitives still on your base?”

  Rand saw the first blip appear on the screen. Then another. Then another. Then a great big blip. Then two medium blips. Then five small blips.

  Rand continued staring. Two more medium blips. Three more small blips.

  “Oh for pete’s sake!” Rand exclaimed.

  Terri came in from behind. “What’s going on? We gotta go, NOW!”

  Then Terri saw the same thing Rand was watching. The radar was full of moving dots.

  “Oh no,” she said bewildered.

  “Terri, take these two to the ship and strap ‘em dowm.”

  “Alright, but what are you going to do?”

  “I’ll think of something, just go!”

  Terri followed the two at gunpoint to the Lady.

  Rand waited until Terri and the two new passengers went out of sight. He searched for the thruster panel. Rand found the thruster panel and the safety over-ride. Fortunately the old station didn’t come with a security protocol and now the safety alarm wouldn’t alert anyone to his next move.

  “This is Captain Laramie of the RSF Pendleton Cross. Are you receiving A 17?”

  Rand just glanced at the speaker. “Yes we’re receiving you, you daffy bastard, but I’m a little busy right now!” Rand said without sending his message. He made the appropriate adjustments, felt the base surge lightly under his feet and headed out the door.

  He ran down the steps, double spacing each then jumped the last four. Out he ran down the walkway, jumped the railing, landing on both feet and was running up the ramp. He quickly turned and closed the tracker ramp/door.

  Terri met him outside of the bottom turret control.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Are those two strapped down?”

  “No, they’re scared to death.”

  “Strap ‘em down in the tracker bay then hurry to the bridge!”

  “But..” Rand interrupted her, “No buts’, just do it NOW!”

  The floor under them dropped sharply for just a few inches.

  Rand took off for the bridge.

  Terri brought both the old man and his nephew and had each buckled into the tracker bay jump seats.

  “What’s happening?” The old man asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, just sit tight.”Terri left and soon came back with Serena and Perry. Serena strapped Perry in using two sets of straps and then she strapped in next to Perry across from the two new passengers.

  “Young lady,” The short man asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Yeah. We’re entering the atmosphere!” Serena said excited.

  “But we haven’t left the docking bay!?!”

  “You misunderstood, the base is entering the atmosphere!”

  Terri told Serena, “I’ll be in the turret control right next door!”

  The old caretaker of A 17 popped his eyes wide open, “MY HOME, OH GOD, WERE ALL GONNA DIE!”

  His nephew shut his eyes tight and started praying.

  Perry had a very confused look and turned to face Serena, “I hope that Mr. Short Guy was talkin’ about himself. I don’t wanna die Miss Serena.”

  “You’re not gonna die Perry, he’s just scared.”

  Serena took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then again. She took Perry’s arm and he with his right arm reached across and took hers.

  Outside of Lady Luck, a small but vastly outnumbering fleet looked in horror at the quickly descending space station.

  “They can’t be serious!” said Captain Laramie.

  “I think they’re very serious Captain, we can’t follow them. Shall I give the order to fire?” asked the executive officer.

  “I have no idea what to do, this wasn’t covered in any manual.”

  The Captain shook his head, trying to think of an alternative. He stroked his chin trying to regain some sense of control.

  “Alright Commander, order the fighter escort to follow them down and give us continuous reports.” He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever good that’ll do.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Oh, and tell them to stay clear of debris!”

  Again the executive officer complied, “Yes sir.”

  On board the bridge of Lady Luck, Rand, Mitchell and Aaron stared out the front window into the Bay of the crashing A17 with themselves inside.

  Several minutes had passed.

  “Rand,” said Mitchell, “I’m not sure this was one of your better plans!”

  The base shook again, but this time a continuous rumbling remained under foot.

  “Lock the magnetic clamps!”

  Aaron jettisoned the magnetic grapples to the hangar floor.

  More rumbling and a hard jolt.

  The three were pitched left in their seats then right.

  Every jolt and tremor tried to shake the Lady from the floor but the magnetic grappling pads continued their straining grasp.

  Three Republic fighters kept a close watch as antennas’ and a large dish antennae ripped from the hull and went spinning far to the right.

  One of the pilot’s shook his head in bewilderment as the station began flying apart.

  As the base descended through the upper atmosphere, sharp corners and edges glowed red; soon flames developed around leading edges and gray black plumes developed stretching for miles behind.

  Power failure went across the board on the station putting Lady Luck in nearly pitch black.

  Slowly a red glow formed around the hanger door.

  Another chamber of the base ripped away, putting the base into a spin. It acted like a child’s toy that broke and began throwing pieces in all directions.

  Now the rumbling had increased to a volume where yelling could not be heard. Every one on board had clenched their jaws to keep their teeth from chattering. The flooring grav plates were becoming less effective with the bases rupturing and tearing apart.

  The bulbous command center ripped from the top. The lower hanger bay, already spinning with the base flipped to the rear of what was left of the station.

  Now they were spinning and twirling at the tail end, like the end of an off balanced football.

  Mitchell screamed as loud as he could, “WE’VE...GOT...TO..GET...OUT...OF....HEEEEERE.!!!”

  “WHAT?” Rand yelled back.

  “OUT...OUT..WE..NEED OOOUUT!”

  “I KNOOOOOW!”

  The upper corners of the bay had turned glowing red and yet the hanger door seemed to be holding fast.

  Rand wasn’t sure if either of the boys knew how to fire one of the two torpedoes, and surmised he would have to chance leaving his chair or die trying.

  Either way, they would all die if he didn’t. He pressed the buckle switch and the straps flew clear except for one shoulder harness which flung up and caught him in the chin.

  Rand shut his eyes tight, it was like someone hit him in the jaw with a night stick.

  He saw spots, but he managed to push himself from the command chair.

  Without aiming, Rand flipped the missile weapon cover, armed the torpedo and pressed the fire button.

  The brilliant flash blinded them for a split second followed by a brighter flash from the explosion. The tail section of the base changed direction opposite of Lady’s nose and the red hot smoking door weighing several tons disappeared underneath in less than a nano-second. Sunlight came screaming in, filtered through a gray plume of smoke and flame.

  Rand reached for th
e grapple switch, but Aaron beat him to it.

  Mitchell was dead on, he pushed forward thrust to the maximum.

  Lady Lucks landing gear screeched across the floor. It was too late to correct his mistake. As the nose exited, it flipped the rear upward as they slid out of the burning hulk. They were clear of the burning wreck but now they were dropping and spinning forward.

  Mitchell fought to regain control. At least the flooring grav plates were somewhat working but the vertigo was too much to handle. Every ones’ stomachs rolled but they survived the falling inferno. Mitchell pulled hard rearward on the cyclic. Lady Luck slowed the flip but continually tried to roll right then left. Each causing a set of new problems. He grabbed Rand’s hand and helped him into the pilot seat.

  “Here old man, you better take it before I kill us all!”

  Rand settled in and waited for the nose to start back to it’s forward position. He rammed the throttles to 100%. Once the ship went over 15 degrees he reversed the thrust. Pushing down full collective he watched the momentum slowly fall. Lady Luck was traveling too fast to just pull back on the cyclic. At the point where the ship pointed 90 degrees to direction of travel he manipulated forward thrust again. They were still traveling well past mach 4.

  As the nose came back around toward the forward momentum the front window filled with greenish blue sky. Then the nose inched downward yet again.

  Mach 3 was still too fast for atmospheric control but would have been tolerable had the cutter been under control in the first place. As Lady leveled out the space station had crumbled. Over a dozen heavy plumes and a multitude of smaller ones had covered the sky in ominous white, gray and black streaks overhead. She barely made it out of the dock in time.

  Rand looked like a machine manipulating the control sticks and pedals. His jaw was clenched in concentration and sweat had soaked the front of his uniform tunic.

  Aaron was in shock. His eyes wide and apprehensive. He couldn’t speak, but had hands had a death grip on the console.

  At mach 2 plus, Lady Luck had started another role but stopped and quickly snapped into proper flying mode. Everyone sighed in relief.

  The digital gimbals stabilized and stress indicators went back to green.

  “Holy Fecal old man, That was a miracle!” Mitchell congratulated Rand.

  “Whew!” Rand wiped the dripping sweat from his face.

  Aaron turned to look at both Rand and Mitchell. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

  Rand giggled nervously. “What else could go wrong?”

  No sooner had he finished his indirect question, bullets ripped into the left engine hull. The reverberations traveled all the way up to the cabin and through the crews feet.

  “Terri, what’s going on back there?”

  Terri swiveled the EMP turret backward but feared an anxious shot would be a wide miss.

  “Rand, we’ve got three minis’ closing on our tail!”

  Rand pitched the nose down for a mountain range.

  Lady Luck was diving for the canyons. Hopefully the fighters would have to single file in pursuit, or so Rand hoped.

  Rand tried to retract the landing gear but they jammed. Probably damaged from the hanger bay exit.

  He pushed the intercom button, “Serena, bring the old man up front and hurry!”

  There was no immediate answer.

  “Serena,....Serena!!”

  Still nothing.

  Perry unlatched his harness and staggered around the tracker. He unbuckled the short man and put the man under his right arm. Making it even more difficult to walk, he managed to carry the stubby old guy through the tracker hatch, past Terri, and into the aft corridor leading to the bridge.

  Lady Luck had entered the canyons and swayed left and right dodging enemy fire. Perry also fell from side to side with his cargo still securely under his arm.

  He entered through the bridge hatch with the old guy and dropped him on the floor.

  “Where’s Serena?” Rand asked.

  “Miss Serena’s sleeping.”

  “Perry, go back and stay with her!”

  “Ooo Kayy”, Perry gave the ok sign and staggered back out.

  Rand had a feeling Serena had been hurt, but three coalition fighters was more immanent.

  “You!” Rand shouted.

  “Me?” The old man questioned.

  “Yes you, where can we ditch these fighters?”

  The old man looked confused.

  “Think quick before we’re all dead!”

  The short figure couldn’t think of any natural environment for concealment.

  “Come on man, we’re running out of time!”

  More incoming fire rattled the rear of the primary hull.

  The stubby old man cowered in the corner.

  “Mitchell, take the helm!”

  Mitch quickly took the seat as Rand jumped at the old guy and grabbed him by the shoulders pinning him to the bridge bulkhead.

  “I’ll see you die first if you don’t open up that brain of yours!” he spat.

  The old man’s expression looked wild. His old gray eyes darted back and forth at Rands’ left and right eyes as if looking for the answer.

  Mitchell managed to keep between the mountains, and as suspected the fighters went into a single file. The engine hulls brushed through tree tops. Leaves and light limbs breaking off leaving tell tale signs of their course.

  Terri had leveled the EMP cannon and had regained her composure. The EMP power levels were at acceptable levels and she eased the sights on the lead fighter.

  Terri hissed as she squeezed the firing trigger, “Say cheese mother fucker!”

  The blast was too fast to dodge and the White flash went directly into the cockpit. The fighter went dead and started to descend into the trees.

  “Come on asshole, eject!”

  Instinct took over the pursuing pilot and the cockpit blasted from the hull in orange flame and smoke.

  Terri took a deep breath. ‘One down’, she thought.

  The remaining two fighters broke formation and climbed for a surveillance/tracking position. It also cleared them from the EMP cannon. A mistake they weren’t soon to repeat.

  On the bridge the old man stammered.

  “A church, err the monastery at the city state!”

  “Where?”

  “Uhh, Emberlize, Emberlize monastery! The Security Force can’t get..you. Forbidden to enter!” the old man stammered.

  “How do we get there?”

  The old man looked out the window to get his bearing.

  “Go straight, when we make it to the Paladin sea turn right up the coast. It shouldn’t be far.”

  “Got that Mitchell?” Rand asked.

  “I heard him boss!”

  Mitchell floored the Banshee’s drive to 100 %.

  Lady Luck surged ahead of the fighters.

  Rand picked up the short man and forced him to stand next to Mitchell.

  “Now you tell him exactly where to turn or I’m gonna cut your nephews fingers off one by one.” Rand was not in a good mood to say the least.

  “All we wanted was fresh water and we would have been on our way, but Noooo, you had to get all greedy on our asses. I don’t give a damn if you did lose your home. You know FUCKING well the Republic would never pay a ransom if they don’t have to!”

  The old man looked sheepish but kept his mouth shut.

  Mitchell and Aaron felt somewhat sorry for the little stubby man but Rand was right. The greasy old bastard caused them a lot of grief.

  “Fellas’, I’m going back to check on Serena. Keep us flying.”

  “We will Rand,” Mitchell said em-pathetically.

  Rand met with Terri in the turret control first.

  “Doin’ ok?”

  “I’m fine Rand, that was a hell of a gamble.”

  “They’re holding back aren’t they?”

  “Yes, probably just watching us until reinforcements
arrive.”

  “That’s my guess also, but we believe we have a safe place to land.”

  “Really!?”

  Rand nodded, “A monastery.”

  “Why Rand, I had no idea you were a religious man?”

  Randall rolled his eyes.

  “I’m gonna check on Serena, keep your eyes open.”

  Terri just nodded.

  Rand stepped into the tracker bay and found Perry holding Serena in his arms. Rand stepped closer and saw the blood on the wall behind where Serena was setting.

  Perry looked up with large tears rolling down his face.

  “Miss Serena’s hurt,” Perry said his bottom lip quivering.

  Perry sniffled and then Rand saw Perry’s left hand covered in blood under Serena’s head.

  “Oh god,” Rand whispered.

  He yelled through the hatch, “Terri, Get in here now!”

  Terri came through the hatch quickly and rushed over to their side.

  “Oh no,” Terri’s voice quaked. “Serena honey, can you hear me?”

  Terri tore her tunic off and ripped a sleeve from it. She formed a crude head wrap and secured Serena’s head.

  She continued her motherly approach. “Perry, lay her down gently and get some blankets, ok sweetheart?”

  “Yes Miss Terri,” and Perry laid Serena down on the floor as gently as a sleeping baby. He quickly disappeared through the hatch.

  “Rand, her pulse is near normal and she’s breathing okay. It’s gonna be alright. I’m guessing she got a pretty good concussion. Just keep it together for me.”

  She looked up at Rand and noticed he was fighting really hard to keep from breaking. His jaws were clenched but the anger he previously held was replaced with sadness.

  “I’ll take the turret, but first things first,”

  Rand swaggered through the corridors back to the bridge, with Lady Luck gently swaying between the mountains. His fists were clenched and his whole body tightened wanting to strangle someone.

  He entered the bridge and spun the short man around on his heels. Again, Rand threw the short man up against the wall.

  “Listen, and listen real, real good. My little girl back there got her head split open and if anything happens to her God and all his angels can’t keep me from breaking every tooth in that pinched little head of yours. I’d destroy ten rust buckets just like yours if I thought it would do any good.”