Tommy Thorn Marked (36 page)

Again Ethos nodded. “The Star Force might be able to help.”

Maco focused his lone eye on the general.

“As soon as you’re recovered, we want you to drive a mag.”

“A mag pilot…” Maco seemed confused.

“I’ve had you assigned to the Terrain circuit,” Ethos said. “And you’ll be promoted to major.” He had hoped this news would cheer up his son, but his stare remained unchanged. “Many die on the mag tracks, Major, and the Terrain circuit is full of Humans,” Ethos added.

This bit of insight did little to brighten his son’s mood. “Just wish Cruise or Thorn raced mags,” Maco said, more as an afterthought than a request.

But the general, who had never lost his hatred for Gary or for Remus, was already working on a plan. “Leave that to me, Major—leave that to me.”

On 6940-13-27 at approximately 2232.47 local standard, mishap spacecraft A, (MS-A), an SF-104 Starbird, assigned to the 606
^th
Fighter Squadron, 32
^nd
Fighter Wing, 12
^th
Battle Group aboard the super battle cruiser Valiant, in operations conducted in the Trebula system, near Drake, collide with mishap spacecraft B, (MS-B), an SF-101T Dart, assigned to the 17
^th
Fighter Squadron, 32
^nd
Fighter Wing, 12
^th
Battle Group, also aboard the Valiant. Both pilots successfully activated their escape pods, resulting with the Tarchein pilot, in SM-A, being critically injured, while the Human pilot, in SM-B, was killed as a result of her pod’s uncontrolled entry into the Drake atmosphere.

The mission, to seek and destroy an alien spacecraft of unknown origin, under the conduct and direction of Princess Deric was briefed and excruciated as a strike package consisting of 30 tactical spacecraft supported by two Titan Class fast missile frigates. Of these 30 Tac assets, the pilot of SM-A was assigned as the number five, second division leader, and the pilot of SM-B was slotted as number eight in the formation of eight T-darts.

Cockpit data and eyewitness accounts confirm that when the ‘CLASSIFIED’ alien spacecraft materialized within close range of the strike package, the pilot of SM-B reacted in a manner not consistent with Star Force protocol. To which she executed an immediate, unannounced rapid pitch up, accompanied by 90 degree hard right turn; the result of which was a catastrophic collision with SM-A.

The convening board of admirals found clear and compelling evidence that the cause of the mishap was a direct result of a decision making error by that of the Human flying SM-B. The pilot of SM-B’s erratic change in position, coupled with the limitations of the strike package’s attack formation, did not give the Tarchein pilot of SM-A ample opportunity to take evasive action.

The board also found a preponderance of evidence that showed the Tarchein pilot of SM-A’s single minded pursuit of the missions objectives and total disregard for personal safety were in the highest traditions of the Star Force.

Tommy continued watching the landing pads long after the transport shuttle carrying Class 13-50 headed off world.
Phase III, guys,
he thought, looking down and across the frozen gray-white courtyard. His view partially obscured by heavy snowfall, Tommy could still make out the ground crew, busy with the prelaunch prep on the ship his class would be using. The spotless dark blue craft’s reflection was visible on a thin film of water that formed as the snow melted on the heated duracreate surface.

“Guess we better hit it,” Gary said, picking up a small duffel and tapping Tommy’s hatch release.

Tommy continued to stare. The birds were back, and he suddenly missed the freedom of flying—he was after all a fighter pilot.

“Tommy,” Gary said, holding the hatch open. “We better get to the pads.”

Tommy nodded, picked up his duffel, took another last look around the room, and headed after Gary.
No turning back
. The thought working its way back into his mind.

The eleven remaining students, and their leads had flown to the staging shack, pretty much in silence—a trend that would continue as their ship made its final approach into the isolated briefing and prep facility. Tommy had hoped to do a little recon of the area on the way in, but the unusually steep approach, coupled with the limited visibility had not afforded much of a look. He did, however, even with a quick glance, glean enough information to make an assessment.
If this place isn’t in the exact middle of nowhere…well, one could surely see it from here,
Tommy thought.

The shack, located on an obscure glacier thousands of miles from Calder, was actually three good-sized igloo-shaped structures connected by enclosed cylinder-shaped walkways. The white buildings, bearing bright orange markings, formed a kind of triangle, which encircled a pair of well-lit landing pads. Their high-intensity directional lighting cut through the gloom, and guided the shuttle’s commander to an uneventful, albeit, rather choppy touchdown.
Kinda skittish
, Tommy thought, imagining he could have done better, even in these high winds.

The sound of D-drives spooling down quickly faded, replaced by the electronic hum of the ship’s electrical systems as Tommy stood, along with the others, and moved slowly into the boarding tunnel. He had hoped to see that the snowfall had subsided a bit, but no such luck. If anything, it was coming down harder, covering everything not heated in a thick white blanket.
Why couldn’t it be a day like when we first arrived at Camp Calder, bright and clear, joyful? Surely the staff can’t predict bad weather,
he thought.

Once inside, the candidates were given a quick itinerary, then silently ushered to their quarters. It seemed strange, but no one spoke, just like on the shuttle—zero conversation, not from any of the crews working the shack, and not from the instructors as they led the way through narrow, brightly lit passageways, absolutely silent.
Dead quiet
, thought Tommy, immediately regretting the analogy as the hatch to his quarters slid closed.
This is different
, Tommy thought looking at the sparsely furnished, grey room, and had just collapsed on the bunk when the intercom let out a series of three whistles.

“Welcome to the Shack,” Major Eldger’s voice boomed over hidden speakers. “Your graduation trial starts now. From this point on, there will be no further communication with your classmates. You will leave your quarters only for chow, and then only at assigned times.” There was a slight pause. “Your class has been divided into four groups. Each group will be shuttled to, and dropped off at, their individual starting coordinates, departing from the Alpha pad at twenty-four-hour intervals. All times have been loaded into your wristcomms. You will not be given your mission data or objective until two hours prior to your group’s launch. If you have questions or concerns, please contact your individual leads. The group assignments are as follows. Group one: Chopiak, Scott, and Thorn…”

Tommy’s heart started to race, and he did not hear much else after that. He had assumed, or maybe hoped, that he would have a little more time.
But maybe this is better
, he thought. It was hard to imagine just waiting to go—nothing to do but think.

“And Steel in group four,” Eldger finished up and paused. “That’s all for now—best of luck.”

Tommy sat up, slid his fingers across the wristcomm, and began to absorb the newly loaded scheduling data. His heart rate was just beginning to return to normal when the intercom whistled.

“Damn it!” Tommy wailed at the ceiling and jumped off his bunk.

“Group one report to the ready room. Group one to the ready room.”

Get a grip, Tommy boy
, he thought, grabbing his duffel.
It’s showtime…

Nodding at Chopiak and Scott, Tommy found a console desk, the large, integrated data screen coming to life with his touch, and focused all of his attention on Major Eldger.

“Your mission objective is being loaded into your comm’s,” Major Eldger said. The area behind him was covered with projected images of the training area. “Each of you has a unique route to the objective.”

All eyes went immediately to their datascreen desktops, each one’s mission brief and track clearly displayed.

“You have enough water and food supplements, if you conserve it, for five days,” he continued, “which, as it turns out, is kind of irrelevant as your battery pack will go inop in approximately thirty-eight standard hours. So eat and drink, because if you’re not at your objective in two days…” The major paused and looked at each individual. “You will surely freeze to death.”

Tommy looked up at Eldger, thinking he would see a smile—but it was clear by his stern look that the major wasn’t joking.

“You’ve got…” Major Eldger checked his comm. “Twenty-two minutes before prep needs to see you. Get it together, gentlemen.” He then walked to the exit before raising his right hand and flashing the sign of the Marked. “For those who stayed,” he said without smiling and left the room.

Reading through the mission order, Tommy thought the objective seemed easy enough. Proceed to the designated location. Once safely inside, press the plunger. The target was a small igloo-shaped building, marked with a large orange
X
and sporting a hundred-foot beacon tower.
Okay
, he thought,
and it’s twenty-two clicks from here. Wait, just twenty-two miles,
can this be right?
Even in this weather, I can be there before it gets dark
, he thought before looking more closely at the terrain he would have to cover—and the elevation of the objective.

He was still checking the distance readouts when the intercom whistled.

“Group one report to prep. Group one to prep.”

The announcement startled all three, but only Scott slammed his fist against the table. Tommy looked from Scott to Chopiak, who gave a worried shrug. The last eleven had gotten very close.
Come on, Scotty—hang in there, buddy
, Tommy thought, whishing he could say something.

The announcement had been worded as an order, but they had all been reminded again at last night’s pretrial banquet. “Any time prior to exiting the shuttle, any candidate may opt out with absolutely no repercussions. But once your boot hits the ground—you are committed…”

A wave of calm came over Tommy as he leaned back in the reclined prep-couch.
It’s not too late
, a small dark subconscious voice murmured. But Tommy knew differently. It had been too late as soon as he had boarded the shuttle back on the Renegade. He knew it even as he had said good-bye to Remus. The truth of which had delayed his ultimate decision.
But I’m ready now for whatever might come.
The revelation served to calm him even more.

“If you’ll just tilt your head back, Lieutenant,” the medtech said, one gloved finger under his chin.

“Right,” Tommy acknowledged.
My death strip
, he thought.

The tech was holding a very thin clear strip of what looked like cellophane. Officially called a medstrip, it was a biologically infused microfilament that was applied to the left side of the student’s throat prior to trials that required isolation.

Tommy knew if his heart stopped beating, the transparent strip would notify the command staff and broadcast a current position.

“So we can locate and retrieve your body,” a medtech had proclaimed while fitting one of the devices back on Seardra.

Tommy smiled to himself as the tech finished up his work. He wondered if the guy actually thought that being able to recover his lifeless body was somehow comforting. The tech bowed slightly and went on to Scott, allowing Tommy to again close his eyes. At the Academy he had found the greatest anxiety came not during an exam but before. Once the thing started, it was too late to worry.
What about the Pipe
? he thought. The remembrance of the experience didn’t help his current situation, and it was quickly put out of his mind.
Let’s get on with it
, he thought and once again adjusted his position on the cushioned couch.

“We’re walking, people,” Major Eldger said, poking his head into the room, the sound of his commanding voice coming as a welcomed relief.
Finally
, Tommy thought.

The three men stood, almost in unison, picked up their helmets, and extended their right arm to allow a medtech to make one last check of each man’s wristcomm. Satisfied that all was within norms, Tommy’s tech patted him on the shoulder, whispered,”Good luck,” and motioned him toward the ship’s boarding tunnel.

Within ten minutes of departing, while skimming over the gray, frozen landscape, the shuttle had made an abrupt turn, slowed to a hover, and landed. Captain Chopiak, already prepared, made a quick stop before entering the airlock to speak to his lead. Then he was gone.

Abruptly as it had landed, the shuttle was away. Tommy watched as the captain quickly disappeared into the low-hanging fog and falling snow.

“You’re up,” Scott’s Lead, Major Fletcher, said, and he along with a medtech stood and moved to the lieutenant.