SUNDAY SCHOOL (TRAMPS Book 2) Read online

  TRAMPS

  By

  Ray Blackwell

  Acknowledgment to: My brother Steven for helping me to map the stars. And letting me know when I screwed up.

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  .

  SUNDAY SCHOOL

  THE SEER

  The elderly monk walked through the garden with his cane in hand. His eyes were glazed and milky colored yet his mind could see the surroundings clearly. The fragrance of multi-colored, genetically engineered roses filled the air and he took each deep breath with a sense of pleasure. His sense of smell was acute and over the smell of roses came a hint of cilantro and light spices being stirred into a blend of sauteed vegetables and mushrooms. The odor emanated from the open kitchen windows of the monastery.

  Lunch would be common again, still it was pleasant to the palette and befitting to the elders of peace and harmony. Just once the elderly monk thought, ‘It would be nice to have an occasional rabbit stew.’ Very seldom was meat served and fish or seafood was served seldom more. An instructional course in fishing for the other scribes would have been advantageous. He smiled at the thought.

  He continued his morning stroll over the rock laden pathway knowing that Brother Chesnerall watched him from his upper level dormitory.

  The elder monk turned and faced the window and grinned.

  Brother Chesnerall shivered. He found that the seers unique ability to see everything, unnerved him greatly. And furthermore the seer, they called Master, could see future events and fulfilled the term prophecy with uncanny accuracy.

  The Master waved his hand for Brother Chesnerall to join him. Chesnerall grabbed a similar maroon robe, slipped his feet into brown sandals and scurried down the cobblestone steps. Chesnerall opened the heavy door leading in from the back of the cathedral hall and passed a huge 3-dimensional image of the Lord Jesus. The image seemed lifelike. His head and eyes slowly turning from left to right. His arms held out with palms upturned would lower and raise then sweep the room always returning to his serene position without a glitch.

  Brother Chesnerall made it to the large 15 feet high double doors, swung them wide as if making a grand appearance to an awaiting cheering crowd. Instead he was greeted by freshly cut grass, the sounds of many talented and sweet sounding birds and one pretentious insect that decided to buzz in his face.

  Brother Chesnerall caught up with his mentor and took his arm through courtesy, not because the Master required it.

  “A beautiful morning Master Krell, is it not?”

  Master Krell’s voice was high pitched but soft and clear. “It is indeed Brother.”

  “Lunch will be served shortly Master,” Chesnerall added.

  “That was not my need of you brother, we must be prepared for guests this evening.”

  “Guests?”

  “Perhaps I should have said company,” he chuckled.

  “They are not asked to join us, but they will be here never-the-less, and they will need our help.”

  “Of course Master,” Chesnerall nodded.

  They took a few more steps in silence and the Master paused.

  He turned his face towards the sky as if sensing something in the air.

  “Master?”

  “They will not be alone Brother.” Krell turned his milky eyes toward Chesnerall, “Tell the others to remain inside at sunset and prepare accomodations for six.”

  Brother Chesnerall released his Masters arm and gave a short bow, “Of course Master, Blessed Be.”

  “Blessed Be Brother.”

  Chesnerall turned and headed back to the monastery.

  Master Krell continued his walk. He sensed a darkness following the newcomers and could see images of smoke, fire and shredded steel.

  Krell understood the darkness as authority. Another vision flashed; the visitors were being hunted. He then saw orange suits. Weapons fire in the dark. Boiling flames engulfing a small spacecraft.

  Six beating hearts encompassing each other. Running from confinement, laughing through desperation and clinging to life. They were lost in unfamiliar space. He felt one, as if zeroing in on his thoughts. He could see the man’s worry. Even in his dream state his unconscious thoughts kept him wary and paranoid.

  Krell focused all of his powers on a single thought. The Master eased himself to his knees. He looked upward feeling the heat of Al Nair baking his dry and age cracked skin. In a sense he became part of the furious star. It’s magnetic storms wrapped by whispers of his mind’s eye and sent the airy thoughts outward in the direction of Sirius. His inner being found his target sleeping.

  ‘Excellent,’ the Master thought. ‘His subconscious can see me.’

  APPROACH

  Lady Luck had just jumped out of Hyper on the next to last jump. Mitchell sat back in the pilot seat with his feet resting on the control panel. Aaron sat in the navigator seat with his legs crossed beneath him playing on a hand held game box. They were both wearing their confiscated Republic Security Force uniforms. If that moment had been an advertisement to join the Security Force the photographer would have been executed.

  Mitchell opened one eye and glared at the console. Everything looked normal as the batteries began their charging cycle. He closed his eye and yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth.

  Aaron popped from his chair like a compressed spring had been released and threw him to the floor.

  “Hey,” Aaron said, “You want go do calisthenics?”

  “You mean exercise?” Mitchell said with his eyes still closed.

  “What else?”

  Mitchell stretched and switched his legs over. “Think I’ll set it out Sparky.”

  Aaron gave him a disgruntled look. “You know, one year you will look at yourself and you will say, ‘I should have listened to Aaron, he was wise and healthy and he tried to save me from my glutinous and lazy ways. Now look at me, I look pregnant with child. Oh, woe is me.”

  Mitchell stretched his arms and stuck his tongue out.

  Aaron rolled his eyes but Mitch didn’t see him.

  “You are like fat cat! Sleep, eat and make bad smells.”

  Aaron hopped through the right bridge hatch and disappeared into the corridor,

  Terri entered through the left hatch as soon as Aaron disappeared through the right.

  “Where’s Aaron?”

  Mitchell never moved but said, “He’s just left for the rec room.”

  Terri thought about it for a second. “Aaaaah, pumping iron. Gotcha.”

  Terri took a seat in the command chair and sipped on a black coffee.

  “Everything alright Mitchell,” she asked.

  “Yep,”

  She was hoping for a little more info. “Ship ok?”

  “Tip top,” he answered. Which was an exaggeration.

  Lady Luck’s hull was scorched black, her top twin barreled turret turned into twisted metal and plenty of dents and battle scratches. But still the console warning lights were dead and everything registered green and cautionary but no emergency lights flashed.

  In the recreation room, Aaron had changed to pant sweats only and was stretching before starting his daily exercises. Serena was teaching Perry how to play checkers on the video table. It was a three dimensional gaming system and had a large variety of games, but checkers was the easiest to start with. Serena was able to switch the checkers to look like cats on one side and dogs on the opposing side. Once a cat was king-ed it changed to a lion and a dog was equally changed to a wolf.

  Perry understood the mechanics and liked watching the cats and dogs jump over each other. The captured pieces would fizzle and disappear. Although Perry had lost seven of seven games he found that someone reacting with him on a personal level made him a w
inner every time.

  But for Perry, his mental capacity was working as hard as it could. His tongue would work itself outside of his mouth on each concentrated move. Most would have found it annoying but Serena found his child like innocence refreshing and fun to be around. And with Perry being around her age, she saw him as her buddy and knew as long as he was around he would protect her with his life.

  “Do you like this game?” she asked knowing the answer.

  “mmmmhmmm Miss Serena,” he smiled up at her.

  Perry held a Moochie in his left hand. To his surprise Serena leaned over the table and took a bite. Marshmallow cream on the left side of her mouth.

  Perry’s eyes grew as big as half dollars. No one ever done that before and certainly never ate after him. But the little mess in the corner of her mouth made Perry burst out laughing so hard even Aaron chuckled.

  His laugh was so loud Serena choked on the cookie and had to cover her mouth from spitting it out.

  Rand was staring at something purple. It swirled in various violet shades with wisps of white smoke. He heard an odd hissing noise coming from deep within the swirling myriad of colors. Dark shapes took forms of angular metallic forms. The violets changed color into angrier tones of bright reds and dark maroons and still the dark angular shapes closed in.

  He could finally make them out. A vast Republican fleet. The red and maroons gave way to pitch black. In the lead, an ominous Battleship led the pack. He watched the energy weapons charge and targeted him directly. Hundreds if not thousands of energy weapons were bearing down on him. The buzzing sound became a high pitched scream. He imagined the laser cannons boring through him with such intensity they melted his soul. Behind, Rand could hear his crew screaming. Then the white wisps reformed and turned to milky, blind, cataract covered eyes. They formed into an old face and he heard it speak in his head like his own mind had created it. The voice only said one thing. “Come to us.”

  Rand’s eyes flashed open to the nearly total blackness of his cabin. He wiped a thin film of sweat from his forehead and glanced at the green calender L.E.D. On the wall.

  He raised up and said, “Lights.”

  He ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair then rubbed his eyes.

  The neon flickered twice then began the soft glow slowly brightening to a comfortable level.

  Rand dressed then sat on the edge of his bunk. He could still see the dream which was rare. He usually could feel the emotion a dream might imprint on his conscience but rarely would he recall the actual event. But this time it seemed different.

  He stood up looking at his face in the mirror. It looked unusually tired this particular morning and he noticed a tinge of gray silver forming on the sides. He stuck his tongue out at himself.

  “You sexy devil you,” he laughed. Apparently the man in the mirror was a joker as well.

  He could escape from the Republic. He could escape from whatever trial that laid behind him and hopefully the trials that lay before; but, he couldn’t escape getting older. He opened his hatch into the primary corridor and slowly walked to the bridge. There he found Mitchell with his feet still propped up on the console. He exited the bridge without saying a word and muttered to himself on the way to the galley. “Coffee, coffee, coffee...”

  He entered the empty galley but it felt like Christmas. There was still fresh hot coffee remaining. He shuffled to the pantry and pulled what was his new favorite cup. A royal blue cup with a chip in the handle. Gold letters imprinted across the front that said, ‘I’d rather be grav boarding.’

  It made him ponder a humorous thought of getting everyone a t-shirt that said ‘I survived Apothos.’

  He sat himself at the head of the empty table when Terri entered.

  “Rand, you’re up!”

  Rand thought about it for a second.

  “This isn’t really me. I’m Rand’s clone. Rand’s taking the day off..”

  Terri took a chair to Rand’s right.

  “Well,” said Terri. “Then Rand’s clone needs to instruct Mitchell that watching the console with his eyes closed isn’t going to help anyone.”

  Rand lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That boy’s going to be the death of us all.” He tried to muster a smile and looked up into Terri’s luminous blue eyes. “Any good news?”

  “One more jump to Al Nair and Trevor’s learning how to play checkers.”

  He nodded, “When we get there I want Aaron and Mitchell up front. Please take our last turret and have Serena and Trevor check all the hatches; we’re still in the fringes of Republic held space.”

  He sipped the strong coffee and winced. “Who made this?”

  “Uhmm, why?”

  Rand knew Terri made it at that point. “Because I like it strong.”

  “Oh, I did,” she beamed.

  “Hmmm, good,” Rand lied. “Well, I’m off to a short shower, see you in a little bit.”

  “I’ll pass the word.”

  Rand, with cup in hand, shuffled to the showers. He slid the shower stall open and thought about the real reason they had to stop at Al Nair.

  No one had done an inventory of the goods, and while they had plenty of food; the fresh water level was at forty seven gallons. A Banshee fully loaded could hold nine-hundred gallons. They would need full tanks to survive the long journey ahead, and keep relatively comfortable.

  He would make it a quick shower.

  Unbeknownst to the intrepid crew of ‘Lady Luck’, long range communication buoys’ had been sent to all Republic held systems containing various information, news and fleet orders. Republic Communication Centers in all systems would decode the buoys information and send the information to the appropriate companies, military bases and ships with general information going over wide band to the civilian populace. The particular buoy headed for Al Nair system was no different, but this buoy also had a wide dispersal note for all citizens to be alert for a stolen Banshee, serial number BNS 7727. Information leading to the capture and arrest of the vessel set at 1,000,000 credits and self capturing or verified destruction of same vessel at 20,000,000 credits!

  Rand dried himself, feeling more ‘alive’ felt the humming through the bulkheads as ‘Lady Luck’ one more time compressed a funnel through the space/time fabric of space.

  ANOTHER ELEMENT

  Jarl Hanson sat in the back of a bluish-green grav limousine, thumbing through his electronic news pad. His piercing gray eyes looked at the political topics as he himself was the primary leader of the Phoenix movement. He mused as an occasional article would indicate himself as being a rebellious crackpot with delusions of unfathomable grandeur. The truth being he was extremely stable and well grounded.

  Jarl wasn’t the founder of the Phoenix Assembly but he was responsible for bringing it into the public awareness. It started as an underground movement to spur the younger generation into a peaceful revolt. A fleeting hope to regain the original Republics Constitution. But without momentum it faltered and occasionally sputtered to a dim recollection.

  Jarl was able to make clandestine contact with the Shadows and temporarily hijacked communication buoys with a message that the Phoenix Assembly was reborn. That was seven years ago.

  Now there was an official and registered organization, and while several members ran for Representatives, they were ironically beaten in the polls by small margins in the mass polls and hammered in the electorates. The ratio was a clear indicator of foul play. Every election across the Republic resulted in strangely the same manner.

  Jarl was no fool and once again, the Shadow Techs were needed in the next presidential election.

  Jarl’s aid, Brent Kramer, sat next to him. Brent was handsome. Tall with thick black cropped hair and matching goatee. Brent was not just an aide but the best body-guard Jarl could find for the credits. Jarl had survived five assassination attempts and four of them foiled by Brent himself.

  “Brent, check this out. A Banshee battle cutter was stolen by
seven convicts. Upon tracking the stolen Republic ship to the Sirius sector, the Republic Security Force stormed the ship rescuing six crew members. The felons locked themselves into the ship and forced it into the boiling inferno of Apothos to evade capture,”

  “Sucks being them, eh?” Brent said, looking disinterested.

  Jarl looked over at Brent, “What do you wanna bet this story isn’t all what it says?”

  “I wouldn’t fathom what that bitch Pytleski has twisted.”

  Brent never looked back at Jarl. Brent’s eyes scanned left and right. Sometimes Jarl thought Brent had eyes in the back of his head and in some ways he did. Every reflection from a window pane, chrome, metallic surface, mirror and even water was another view. A slight glimpse into the world of the assassin, sniper or thug.

  Jarl didn’t mind. He knew Brent was listening, whether it was important or just idle chat. Over the years Brent had become a friend and confidant, even if he was paid on a regular basis.

  From the dark alley Brent caught the signal of a small green flame in a window three blocks away.

  “We’re on sir.”

  “Just when I was finally calming down,” Jarl chimed.

  Brent stepped out first. He assessed the conditions in an alley of New Denver. He motioned to Jarl it was clear and Jarl exited the other side. Jarl slung the coat over his well built frame. His long silver tinged hair brushed his face from the rush of air at his back. They briskly walked the alleyway, dress shoes crunching hard on loose gravel and shattered bits of glass.

  Both wore the usual long dress coats. Jarl wore his for the warmth; Brent wore his to conceal the massive artillery.

  They neared the steps leading to the basement entrance of an old apartment complex that had been refurbished a multitude of times over the past century.

  Jarl went first as Brent continued his surveillance.

  ‘Jarl rapped on the door in sequence. ‘knock knock...knock knock...knock knock knock’.