Tommy Thorn Marked (29 page)

Bo and Gary dragged their weary bodies into the Lasercats’ ready room. Bo slumped into a chair near Tommy, while Gary moved straight to a roster readout and began making entries.

With Tommy and Bo silently looking on, the board changed the status of two flight crews from active to KIA, or killed in action.

“We can’t keep taking loses like this, Tommy,” Gary said before collapsing into the nearest padded briefing chair, exhausted.

They had been fighting the so-called undermanned Collation of Free Planets for twelve months, usually flying twice a day and almost always to cover Firestorms as they continued in an attempt to weaken planetary shields or defensive complexes. They had endured heavy casualties, including Wagner, their CO.

“What happened?” Tommy said, standing and taking note of the names displaying a new status.

“We got jumped by swarms of Venoms inbound to the target. The Firestorms salvoed their payload and made a run for it. We stayed and tried to hold them off.”

“We were outnumbered again—four or five to one!” Bo chimed in.

“This strategy is madness, Tommy. How many people do we have to lose?” Gary pleaded.

After months of flying blockades with no apparent success, the fleet under the command of Admiral Cobna had massed their remaining heavy warships for an all-out attack on just one Vargus region—the south. The thinking being that the combined weapons would overwhelm the protective shield before the ion cannons could inflict a disproportionate amount of damage.

They were wrong…

Tommy’s squadron, along with a dozen others, had flown cover for the gathered armada. His Rapiers were of course not needed, as the Vargus planetary defense brain trust had no intention whatsoever of attacking the fleet with ships. The vantage point did, however, afford Tommy an excellent view of the carnage.

The battle had two significant outcomes: it was made clear that the Vargus triple-redundant shield technology was not to be dealt with head on, and another admiral was called home to stand trial.

Since that debacle, the big ships had been pulled back in favor of a more tactical approach. Heavy bombers, escorted by fighters, continued to pound the shields in hope of reducing energy reserves. This plan did take the ion cannons out of play, but only time would tell if this new strategy would indeed pay dividends. In the meantime, Star Force continued to lose personnel, but by the tens rather than the hundreds. Those ten were almost always fighter crews.

“Jamey’s gone. He got here when we did, right out of nav school.” Tommy said and slumped back into his chair, disgusted.

They sat in silence for a long while before Tommy spoke. “I’ll talk to the admiral again…”

“We need better equipment!” said Gary. “These Rapiers have had it. Every time my tacnav straps in he looks like he’s climbing into a body tube. We’re just no match for the numbers of fighters they’re throwing at us. And I’m sick and tired of taking on these—these machines!”

“It’s not the equipment, Cruiser. We need better tactics, and more squadrons,” Tommy said.

“What we need is some rest,” Bo finally added. She grabbed her gear and headed out into the hallway.

Gary laid his head back on the chair’s ample headrest, let out a deep sigh, and tried to doze off. Maybe he could get rid of the faces of his dead squadron mates, images still very fresh in his mind—when…

“Looking for Lieutenants Cruise and Thorn,” came a voice from the open hatch.

“You found them,” Tommy said without turning to acknowledge the human voice.

“I’ve got some information for you.”

Both Gary and Tommy twisted, still seated, to see a major dressed in the uniform and traditional sidearm of the Marked. Both jumped to their feet.

“I’m Lieutenant Thorn.”

“As you were, gentleman.” The major raised a hand. “I know what you’ve been going through out here.”

“You’ve come to help Major—uh, Major…” Tommy hesitated.

“Major Eldger—Chad Eldger, and in a way.” The Major paused. “I’ve come here with an invitation to become part of a very special organization—the Marked.”

“The Marked? Are you sure you’ve got the right guys?” Tommy asked.

“You’re kidding, right, Mr. Thorn.” Chad looked down at his wristcomm and punched up an entry. “You have seventeen confirmed kills—in Rapiers! Add to that three Bronze Daggers, a silver star cluster, an Imperial Cross for bravery, and—” the major paused for effect, “—you’re the youngest acting squadron commander in the history of the Force. All in twelve months of combat flying.”

“You have been lighting ’em up, Tommy, “Gary said.

“And you, Mr. Cruise. Nine kills, and a fistful of commendations in your own right. You two make quite a team.”

Tommy paused, struggling to find the right response. “Sir, thank you for the opportunity. It’s a great honor, but I don’t see how I can leave the squadron just now. We’re in kind of a tough spot.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to, Lieutenant. The Renegade is pulling out of combat operations for refit and a badly needed rest—seems the brass wants to rethink their—strategy in this sector,” Eldger replied.

Tommy and Gary looked as if they were about to ask another question when the major stopped them.

“The next indoc class starts in two weeks. I’ve forwarded all of the information to both of you and sent a formal request through the chain. My shuttle leaves next week, oh seven thirty.” The major paused. “If you want a chance to be part of something very special…” Eldger took another moment to size up each man. “Be on that shuttle.”

With that, the Marked major turned and headed for the hatch. “We don’t ask twice, gentlemen,” he said without looking back, and left Tommy and Gary to stare at each other in disbelief.

Two days later, Tommy had gathered with Bo, Gary, and a few other members of the squadron for late chow. He wasn’t really hungry, but these get-togethers had become the only real break from the relentless pressures of the scheduled combat sorties—a schedule that Tommy was solely responsible for generating.

“What’s up, flying-type people?” Sloan asked, sitting in a chair across from Tommy.

Sloan’s Q had been assigned to the Renegade following his full recovery from the Vargus mission, although they hadn’t deployed again to the surface—and Sloan was growing bored!

“How ya doing, hero?” Tommy joked.

Sloan had been awarded the Golden Dagger medallion with rubies for saving Tommy, the highest award for bravery given by the Empire, although Tommy took credit for Steel receiving the medal. “If I hadn’t gotten shot, you never could have save me,” Tommy had joked.

“I’m doing good. Why? You thinking of getting blasted again?” Sloan retorted, smiling.

“Did you hear about Tommy and Gary getting asked to join the Marked?” Bo interjected.

“Yeah, Major Eldger told me about it,” Sloan replied.

Major Eldger,” Tommy and Gary both spoke, almost in unison.

Sloan leaned back in his chair and flashed a wide grin. “You didn’t think they would ask you two prima donnas and not try and get a real fightin’ guy, did ya?”

Gary actually jumped from his seat and grabbed Sloan. “That’s great. You’ll be with Tommy and me!”

Tommy raised a hand. “Hold on, Cruiser—I haven’t decided for sure.”

“What do ya mean, you haven’t decided? This is the Marked we’re talking about. A Humans-only club!” Gary then paused and looked over at Bo. “No offense.”

Bo smiled between bites of food. “None taken.”

“It’s a big decision,” Tommy said.

Sloan nodded in understanding. “He’s right, Cruise—it’s a tough call. And you do know people die trying to earn their Mark.”

Gary just waved him off. They all knew what was really eating Tommy. There had been a lot of talk about Tommy maybe being the first non-Tarchein to command a battle group, and becoming a member of the Marked would eliminate him from any future consideration.

“Have you talked to Chairman Remus?” Gary asked.

Tommy nodded. “He said he would support my decision—whatever I decide. But I got’a say, he sounded a little concerned about the Marked qualification training.”

Gary turned back to Sloan. “What about you?”

“Are you kidding?” Sloan said. “I’m there. I can’t wait to get off this tub. Can you imagine what it will be like to command a Q made up entirely of the Marked?”

Gary looked from Tommy to Bo and then back to Sloan. “No, I can’t, and I’m not sure why anybody would want to!”

They all laughed.

Tommy flinched a bit as his wristcomm sent a tingle up his forearm. “I’ve got to get this, guys,” he said, looking down at the message before grabbing his tray and hurriedly leaving the officers’ mess.

Moments later Tommy was in his quarters, looking at the face of Remus on a secure beam.

“Sir, it’s nice to hear from you, but why all the secrecy?”

Remus smiled. “You look well, son, and I would enjoy a chance to catch up on events, but I have urgent news—news of a delicate nature.”

Tommy watched his foster father slip into his diplomatic persona. “All right, sir.”

“You must get Bo off the Renegade,” Remus said.

“Off the—but why? Where?” Tommy stammered.

“I’ve taken the liberty of getting a leave set up for Bo through some very discreet channels. She needs to be off the ship and on her home world within the next twenty-four standard hours!”

Tommy sat back in his chair, terribly confused, staring at Remus.

“I know this comes as a shock, Tommy, but you must act now if you are to save your friend,” Remus continued.

“Save Bo! From what, sir?”

Remus paused, clearly concerned over the amount and the content of information he could divulge over this secure beam. “The success of the CFP has bolstered a number of other systems.”

The statesman again paused as Tommy leaned into the projection. “Drake will issue a decree of independence within forty-eight hours, Tommy. You know what that means to Bo if she’s still onboard when they officially make the announcement.”

“All Drakes will be considered enemies of the Empire. But how can Drake leave so many of their people—“

Remus did not let Tommy finish. “Remember what I told you long ago—chaos and death, Tommy, chaos and death.”

“I understand, sir,” Tommy replied.

“There is a shuttle leaving in twenty minutes, Tommy. Tell Bo as little as possible, but get her on that shuttle,” Remus insisted.

“Twenty minutes…” Tommy protested.

“I fear the worst if you don’t make it. In a very short time, the fleet will stop all movements by any Drake. You must hurry.”

“All right, sir, we’ll get her on that shuttle,” Tommy said.

“I know how difficult this is for you, Tommy, but we have no choice. These are dangerous times,” Remus added.

“Indeed.” Tommy paused, already thinking of what he would tell Bo.

“Good luck, son,” Remus said, and the projection winked out.

Tommy stared at the void where only moments ago Remus’s concerned face had been displayed. He could only imagine the extent of the risk Remus had taken to get this information to him, but the thought of Bo leaving… And what if they were ordered, at some point, to attack Drake?
Would I ever be able to fight Bo
.

Putting these thoughts aside for the moment, and with a very heavy heart, Tommy slid his finger across the wristcomm to selected his friend and squadron mate. “Yeah, Bo, it’s Tommy. We need to talk.”

Only a few days after Bo’s hasty departure, Sloan found himself strapping into a small, very fast transport shuttle bearing the large red symbol of the Marked.

“Heard from Tommy?” Sloan asked Gary, who had secured himself in a seat facing his.

The cabin area was small but beautifully decorated in the colors of the elite fighting force. There were no signs or symbols of the Tarchein, save a small firebird symbol on the galley door just aft of the flight deck. Even their flight crew was Human.

Gary shook his head while glancing over at Major Eldger, who had stretched out, apparently sleeping.

Seeing Gary, Sloan twisted around to get a look at the Marked major. “Do those guys always carry that cannon?”

Sloan was referring to the traditional Marked sidearm only partially visible sticking out of the long holster, which was attached low on Chad’s right hip.

Gary smiled. “Supposed to be the largest and most powerful handblaster in the Empire,” he said.

“In the galaxy,” Eldger interjected, opening one eye.

“Good morning, sir,” Gary said.

The major nonchalantly raised a hand, but he had already closed his eyes and was in the process of wedging himself deeper into his seat’s EAM.

“Wonder what’s up with Thorn?” Sloan asked.

“Not sure, he took Bo leaving pretty hard though,” Gary said, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard by the major.

Sloan nodded but kept silent as the shuttle’s crew chief secured the hatch.

“Still, I always thought he’d come along,” Gary continued over the whine of the number one D-drive engine spooling up.

“He knows what he’s doing, Cruiser,” Sloan said, then adjusted his viewing ports’ polarity so as to be completely opaque. “The Mark’s not for everyone,” he continued and closed his eyes.