Trampship Wars 2 Page 10

  Mark watched the Master at arms Chief walk up. “Finally reinforcements. You the one that is going to shut these damn things off. We tried but the marines won’t let us touch them. Some stupid thing about never forgetting.” Raising his comm to his mouth. “We are ready as we can be Captain.”

  “Very well Chief.”

  A few seconds later the Ship’s Public Address system whistled for attention. “Your attention please. This is Captain Cook. This evening starting at Twenty hundred hours. Lock number 3 will be reopened to viewing by appointment. Priority given to family members. A map complete with names will be posted on the ship’s bulletin board in a few hours. Please exit the lock in a peaceful manner. All trouble makers will be barred from entering the lock for a period of 30 days. Public viewing will be opened up tomorrow evening by appointment only , priority again for re latives . My deepest condolences go out to the families that have suffered for so many years but lock #3 is going to be shut down now until twenty hundred hours for the rest of the day . That is all.”

  The Chief turned to Mark. “You can cut the lights now Commander.”

  Mark frowned taking a deep breath as some people started shuffling toward the hatch next to the fighter hulk while most continued to stare at or hunt for loved ones. “Mickey, fade the frescoes leaving the lights up so people don’t hurt themselves falling in the holes.” Turning, Mark tapped his comm. “Hatch control. You can start opening lock 3’s hatch. Take your time bringing it down slowly without extending the ramp until I tell you to. Out.”

  A bang sounded from the far end of the lock as dust filled the air around the big hatch. Then the sound of motors and gears could be heard as a crack with that systems bright red sun’s light appear ed ing along the upper edge and started to grow down the sides. The lock lights seemed to grow brighter as the bodies faded and disappeared. More people started heading for the personnel hatch and out of the lock. Many not yet ready to leave started cursing or begging for more time but were quickly but politely silenced by the ships patrol.

  It took a good half hour to get the last of the grieving family members out, many having found their relatives and simply refused to leave even though they could see nothing but a pit in the deck by then. But Mark was finally able to give the go ahead for the Hull Tech crews to enter the lock as the ramp completed its slow slide out. An English APCC landed on the ramp discharging English techs experienced in covering the craters in the bulkheads and deck s . Telling Mark that when they finished he would not be able to tell where any of the deck cutouts had ever been.

  One of the techs picked up one of the thin light poles Mark had used to create the life like scenes across the lock.

  Mark quickly stepped up to him and took it away trying to think what to do with it knowing he couldn’t leave it in everyone’s way in the middle of the deck but not wanting to get rid of it or move it very far .

  One of the marines that had come up to reinforce the Sentries, came up to Mark. “Sir. What are you doing?”

  “That is what I am trying to figure out now Sargent.” Looking around Mark thought about seeing if he could stick it to the bulkhead high above everyone and still make the haunting images. His eyes got higher and higher on the bulkhead and then started across the overhead above him. Shaking his head Mark smiled. “Well, might as well as try it.”

  Mark took the 7 foot tall ¼ inch thin rod with a flat two inch wide super magnetic base at the bottom end and started swinging it around his hand alongside his body. Looking up with a grimace of concentration. Mark let go of the small end with the light and watched it tumble up to hit sideways on the overhead and fall back down. Mark had to leap to catch it before it hit the deck.

  Trying it again he let go of the end giving it a flick of his wrist to keep it from tumbling and watched it sail up and hit butt end magnetic base against the overhead where the round disk stuck to the steel metal overhead with its powerful light hanging down. Smiling in satisfaction Mark started swinging light after light up onto the overhead working his way down the lock. The Marines keeping anyone else from even touching the light rods let alone trying it.

  Finished throwing the light rods while adding quite a few extra, Mark watched the technicians work for a few minutes as they foamed the bottom of the holes leaving a little less than an inch to the deck’s surface while only leaving an 1/8th of an inch on the bulkheads. They would pour a much harder tougher mix as strong as the steel it replaced after the foam set. The deck needing a thicker surface to support the fighters and equipment than the bulkheads. All the while the crews were keeping a safe distance from the old fighter as if they were afraid to touch it. Saving the pits around and under it for the last.

  Walking out onto the ramp Mark could see a lot of activity going on down in the pit as the ants crawled over and under the bombers while other ants unpacked the trucks lining the sides around the pit. He finally realized that a lot of the trucks were carrying torpedos torpedoes , bombs and other weapons for the bombers. Wondering where the hell he was going to put if the life boat compartments would hold all the ordinance , he could only shake his head.

  Mark’s comm beeped. Tapping it, still in thought.

  “Mr. Collins. You still have a bunch of cars you bought at the auction yesterday. Take one of our trucks and haul them off, sell them and use the proceeds as we discussed last night. Give you something creative to do the rest of the morning and this afternoon.”

  “But Captain I have a squadron to organize and pilots to train and as you s aid, a lot of equipment to move into number 3 lock. Not to mention…”

  “Mr. Collins I just ordered you to get those damn cars taken care of first and Pit Fair supplies bou ght for the outback. It is going to take time to clean out the boat locks which you can st art later when you deliver the old hulk in lock 4 to its new owner. Since the hulk can’t fly I don’t know how you are going to get that done. But the damn aircars and pit fair comes first. Captain Cook out. ”

  “I have to transport the Gunboat hulk to its new owner? Shit. Well, at least that answers the qu estion about lock 4 but first things first.”

  Looking over the side of the ramp he could see the cars sitting off by themselves with the fancy airtruck that was little better than junk next to them now . Mark had that he had been stuck with the cars after trying to bid their prices up at the forced car auction that had gotten rid of all the ships private aircar’s, before taking D ian to obit, getting ambushed on the way back and almost getting her killed not far from them . Mark did not thin k t T he aircars would not be that hard to get rid of but the truck needed a major overhaul before it would be in any shape to sell for any kind of a profit.

  Mark smiled. The n there was Chet Greedly, the moron that had tried to kill him several times over the last week now , had trashed his families truck it the week before after Mark had chained it down to the deck as payback after watching Chet terrorize and destroy the toys of a kid in the junk hold while waiting for some girl Chet wanted to take on vacation. By the time Chet’s father had come down and found the chain Mark had locked it down with, Chet had pretty much worn-out destroyed the fans , (powering them up into the red zone repeatedly while stalling the blades ) on the truck before t he group left.

  Then with the fans vibrating, (with Marks help) forcing Chet and his friends to return without even making it to the ski lodge when the girls became worried that the fans would fail. Chet had completed the destruction hitting several containers in the hold as he pulled in a little drunk and pissed off. Then getting in a hurry Chet had cut the lift power and dropp ed ing the truck in from some 10 feet up in the air. Collapsing the crash seats and the fan shr ou aw ds and frame on one side that hit first and deploying the crash landing air bags.

  No, Mark he had paid less than junk for the truck and wanted nothing more than to fix it up good as new, then fly it in front of the ass hole Chet to see and then sell it for a bundle. Mark didn’t even care if he made a profit or not. Waving the credits under Chet’s
nose just to be a butt. But that also meant finding someplace to keep it as well until he got the time to do the repair work. Time he was starting to find out was in short supply now that he was an officer.

  Shaking his head and frowning, Mark headed for the elevator and the truck deck only to stop as he started through the hatch. Turning Mark walked up to the fighter full of blaster holes with whole sections of wings and fuselage blown off when a half dozen gunboats had attacked the fighter with Dian and him in it on the way back from dinner in the planets main civilian orbiting space station. A section of fuselage on the side of the cockpit had been blown off with a large melted dent in the armored cockpit protection tub that had welded Dian’s hip to the metal like what had been done to half the bodies in the boat lock. The sight was enough to bring tears to Mark’s eyes. Which was why he had been trying to ignore the wreck. But now he could not keep himself from reaching up and patting the long nose of the fighter as he thanked it for holding together long enough to get them home and save both their lives. He now realized how much of a miracle that had been. Even with Micke y’s help.

  An English Chief walked up behind Mark. “Don’t worry Commander. We will have this baby looking and purring like new by tomorrow morning.”

  Mark glanced around out of the corner of his eyes and quickly looked away as he composed himself trying to w h ipe his eyes without looking like it. Only to smear his dirty hands across his glasses. Turning around trying to see through the smudges while Mickey burned the dirt off the lenses finally , Mark smiled at what he could see of the Chief. “Thanks Chief. I am glad we don’t have to scrap her.”

  “No problem Commander. Ah, since we are having to replace so much… We could upgrade the old girl to the new single seat X-wing cockpit. Cutting a couple thousand pounds and adding the bigger 40mm cannons since these guns are scrap anyway. Add more range with the newer X -wing engines as well and a few other improvements they went to all the trouble of designing and testing the upgrades before the war ended when X-wing fighters were still rather rare. Besides, i I t would be a shame if we just rebuilt this old girl without the upgrades the rest of our remaining tri winged fighters already have . Commander. ” improvements sir . Someone went to all the trouble of designing and testing the upgrades before the war ended when X-wing fighters were still rather rare. It would be a shame if we just rebuilt this ol d girl without the upgrades the rest of our remaining tri winged fighters already have .”

  “What Chief?” Mark was trying to figure out if this guy was screwing with him or not.

  “The Pilot sits a little higher in the center of the fuselage with better all-round visibility with room for the point defense turret from the Torpedo Bomber behind the pilot with a class 4 AI to control the weapons replacing the officer .” Shrugging his shoulders. “Your fighter was close to needing its annual as well as the 1,000 hour maintenance tear down anyway and my guys are getting a bit bored without a war going on. There is a few things from the kit we can change over to your torpedo bombers as well, that we were not allowed to do to our bombers with the ending of the war. With 2 of the slender but taller switchback fighter engines side by side, replacing each of the bombers original much larger old tech engines, we can greatly increase the bombers power and range. It would make it even more reliable even though they would go from 4 to having 8 engines. We can also replace the core computer electronics as well as replace the bombers original 30mm guns with 6 8 full power 40mm guns. The fighter kit’s 40mm guns power have to be reduced but are still twice as deadly as the fighter’s old reduced power 30mm’s.”

  The Chief took a breath as he looked over the wreck. “Even with the crews from the station’s entire wing and your maintenance crews helping with double shifts, the upgrades will take add a few days unless we took them up to the station . But then installing the kits would be good training, getting your crews up to speed on the fighter and the torpedo bombers. The kits with all the new upgrades even cut the maintenance hours to flight hours in half as a side benefit even with 8 engines . S i mply because the new engines a re all solid state with little that can break down .” Smiling at Mark. “Tell you what Commander. Take a sim ride in the Captain’s fighter parked down below and then make up your mind about this old girl. You won’t believe the difference even if the Sim is the old version for the single cockpit upgrade without the new weapons, engines and armor which was never added to the flight Sim after the war ended but is included with the upgrades.”

  Mark’s mouth dropped open. He was still not used to some dirt pounder going out of his way to help a Tramp. Even if he was Navy and at least a spacer. “Ya sure Chief. I already flew one of the fighters and not just a Sim. You said you can upgrade the bombers? Does that mean single cockpits as well?”

  “Yes and no Commander, both bombers and fighters will share weapons, engines and electronics but the bombers still need the weapons officer. There is way too much for just one man to handle , navigation, sensors, targeting and defense systems. But will reduce maintenance costs considerably Commander.”

  “Good get too it.” Taking a couple of steps toward the hatch Mark froze shaking his head sadly. Suddenly coming up with a reason accepting most of the bombers would be a problem. Since the lock would only hold 5 of the bombers or less if they still had the fighter. Especially if he was not able to talk the Captain into dumping the other damn junk boat. But then for some reason he liked the idea of having the damn 60 foot long Torpedo bombers even though they took up a hell of a lot of room. Then another problem hit his mind as he remembered all the times he had pumped 20 millimeter shells into boats without doing much damage during Sim games. Quickly sucking in a breath. “I also don’t like reducing the power on the fighters 40mm guns. See what you can do about that Chief. I would rather have 4 full power guns over 6 half power guns. Oh hell Chief, if I can’t get the other lock with the junk shuttle cleaned out, we are looking at leaving half of them behind anyway. So concentrate on the first 5 and make sure they get done before we lift just in case it takes longer to make the upgrades. Oh a , you can get the conversions done before we lift can’t you? If not you might as well head home now and we will just have to live with what we have.” Suddenly realizing that he had heard that little sentence (we will have to live with it) to damn many times before and had hated it each and every time. And now he was using it. Damn he hated being an officer.

  Mark took a breath as he waited for the Chief’s answer. He hated it when decisions were not simply cut and dried. He may have to make a choice that could make the difference between the Queen surviving or being taken and the crew and family killed or enslaved. Just having something to fight with versus capabilities that may never get finished. Any good Commander knew that many times the first with the most and not necessarily the best that never made it out of the hanger, won the battle.

  Mark turned toward the hatch headed for the truck deck but decided to stop by si ckbay and see how Dian was doing. His loins started throbbing at the thought of the nights they had spent together since she had moved in with him. Forgetting the fact that they had not been getting along very well of late as he spent 12 and 16 hour days getting ready for the Engine 3#’s upgrade. The risky flig ht to orbit and the fancy upscale plush restaurant at the station (that cost him a month’s pay), an attempt to smooth things over with her.

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  The Puma cat watched the group of lions, tigers and Gronks walk past the alcove and disappear down the passageway as she held the cloth tighter over her mouth and nose trying to block out the horrid smell of the beasts. Not expecting them so see her in the corner partially blocked behind several gas bottles as long as she stayed frozen in place with the grey bulkhead color of her fuzz thin fir making her hard to see in the first place even with her huge bar skinned all too human breasts with faded red nipples.

  She didn’t look like other Puma cats or even any of the other cats aboard the Pirate ship. Her human side was all too visible maki
ng her a misfit in the cat universe. But then most Puma cats looked more like their human half than any other human cat hybrid Earth had populated many of the worlds across that part of the Galaxy with ten thousand years before when changing the human form to live on strange new worlds was easier than changing a planet. But then she looked even more human than every Puma cat she had ever met, making her an outcast even with other Puma’s. Only having 2 very large breasts instead of 4 small bumps on a harry fat belly normal for cats. W , w ith her whole front side almost completely bear with only two breasts , with a skinny waist and lastly a very human face , was just the most obvious. Making her the center of jokes and derision the whole time she was growing up.

  With the group gone down the passageway, she dropped her hand with the rag with the special surgical mask hidden in it, back to her belt and tried not to gag at the lingering smell the group had left behind them in their wake.

  Sliding out into the passageway as she looked both ways she continued up ship. She had thought about using the cramped almost secret maintenance trunks and passageways that ran between the outer double hulls and just popping out onto the deck and then the ship’s bridge she had been summoned to. But the chance of the pirates figuring out that she not only knew about the tween hull trunks but that she had hidden humans (slated for the crews food stocks), in the hundreds of little narrow compartments between the hulls was just too damn great. So she had resigned herself to trying to avoid as much contact with the pirate crew as possible as she made her way up ship which meant avoiding the elevators and climbing the damn ladder trunks that were located in different places in each converted hold.