Tommy Thorn Marked (3 page)

The Jolly Roger was lost in 193T-10 during unprovoked combat action with what was determined to be Jayram raiders.

Tommy thought for a moment that he was lying back in his cabin, trying to catch the last few moments of calm before his daily routine. But it was the sound that brought him out of this happy half-conscious bliss, or rather the absence of sound. After years of living on spaceships, he had become accustomed to the methodical drone of powerful D-drive engines feeding on dark matter, or the occasional subtle lurch and vibration that accompanied a transition into light speed.
Far too quiet,
he thought as he slowly opened his eyes to the dim red light of his new home, allowing the recent nightmarish events of his narrow escape to come flooding back into his consciousness.

The pod
, he thought, and jerked upright.

At least the little ship had stopped spinning. In fact, there was absolutely no sensation of any movement whatsoever. And so, bolstered by this realization, and quite tired of being held in place; Tommy took a deep breath, released his restraints, and floated above his couch—weightless. This, of course, did not come as a surprise, nor was it a source of discomfort, for he had spent many long hours in zero G activity areas and had become quite adept at maneuvering in space. In fact, while floating near the pod’s low ceiling, Tommy was just starting to regain his wits, when he suddenly remembered that he was not alone.

The Tarchein
, he thought and rolled over to look at the alien, who was still out, or maybe dead. His large, hairless head tilted to one side, showing a trickle of dark blue blood that even now oozed from two of his four bony nose holes.
Better check on my roommate
, he thought, drifting to the alien and looking for any signs of life. To Tommy’s young eyes, the alien certainly seem dead, but after some thought, he gently placed his hand against the Tarchein’s chest and felt a slow rise and fall—the rhythm of life.
Um, not dead
. This conclusion came as a relief.
Being stuck in here was bad enough,
he thought,
but stuck with a dead alien…

Convinced for the moment at least that the older Tarchein was still among the living, Tommy turned his attention to getting both of them safely out of the pod.
What was in
that briefing?
Tommy had been through emergency evacuation training so many times. Why hadn’t he paid better attention?
Kimmy Paterson
. The girl’s image came to him in full color—that was the reason. She and her family had been assigned to his pod. He smiled at the thought, and then, looking at his surroundings, wondered if she, or indeed any of her family, had made it safely off the ship as he kicked over to the pod’s command console.

“Computer, navigation data.” Tommy tried to sound like his dad.

A large holographic image of the surrounding space filled the blunted forward area of the pod as the computer responded, “Displaying navigation and contact information within a current range setting of 300,000 miles.”

Tommy tried his best to interpret the suspended graphics. “Display all contacts,” he said, drifting closer to the projection.

Small colored symbols began to appear. “There are four contacts within one thousand miles of current location.”

Which one of these symbols is the
Jolly Roger, he thought.

“Designate the Jolly Roger freighter,” Tommy commanded.

“There is no contact information for the Jolly Roger.”

“Expand search.” Tommy’s voice cracked a little.

“The Jolly Roger does not exist within the searchable ranges available to this vehicle,” the emotionless machine said.

Tommy’s head sank as he effortlessly rolled over and stared at the featureless gray ceiling, now just inches from his face.

Okay, the ship is gone, or at least out of range—first things first. Let’s get help,
he thought.

“Computer, what is the range of our emergency beacon?” he asked.

“Emergency beacon damaged on launch,” the computer responded quickly.

Tommy fought back a growing fear, like a darkness he could feel clutching at his stomach.
You’re all right,
he thought, trying to ignore the snugness of the pod’s confining space, which was now threatening to suffocate him.

You’re okay, Tommy, they’ll find us. Now let’s check out the food supply. Food will make me feel better,
he thought.

“Computer adjust lighting.”

The lights brightened as Tommy drifted over toward a small supply replicator and took stock of the pod. It was small, just six couches aligned in two rows positioned on the outer edge of the wedge-shaped craft, all facing forward, away from the roundish-shaped hatch and bathroom cabinet, which dominated the rear bulkhead.

“Computer, a ham sandwich, fries, chocolate pudding, and a Coke,” Tommy commanded.

“I am only capable of supplying emergency rations,” the annoying computer responded.

“Fine, one helping of rations,” he replied, somewhat miffed.

Tommy held on to the console with one hand, letting his legs drift above his head until two thick wafers and a tube of water appeared in the window of the small device. Using his free hand, Tommy opened the sliding door and grabbed one of the wafers, which was filled with some sort of mystery meat, and began eating.

He had been right, eating did make him feel better, and he was just about to have the second wafer when he heard a low moan coming from the Tarchein. “Water.”

Surprised, Tommy retrieved the tube of water and offered it to the Tarchein.

“Thank you,” he said. And after a long drink, “My name is Remus.”

“I’m Tommy, Tommy Thorn.”

“Would you get me the med kit, Mr. Thorn?” Remus asked, pointing to a locker under one of the two couches closest to the main control console.

Tommy nodded, pushed away from the alien, and after fumbling through a number of gadgets and supplies, each individually wrapped in clear plastic, returned with what he hoped was the kit.

“That’s fine. Now hand me the med scanner, if you would,” the Tarchein coughed.

Tommy opened the rectangular box, searching the kit for anything that looked like a scanner.

“There.” Remus pointed to a small oval device with a black tinted face, then put his head back against the couch.

Tommy handed Remus the scanner and watched as he activated, then pointed it toward his chest. He was clearly still very weak. Tommy was sure the Tarchein would have simply floated aimlessly about the pod had he not been restrained.

“Thanks for strapping me in,” the Tarchein said, momentarily looking up from the readout. “I’m sure the launch would have killed me had I not been secured to the couch,” he continued, and seemingly satisfied with the information, turned his large oval head toward Tommy and smiled.

“You’re welcome, sir,” Tommy said, thinking that the alien looked as though he might still die at any moment.

Remus again focused on the little machine’s readout. “Tommy, I need you to pull out the auto hypo-loading station and a cartridge.”

Tommy nodded and began searching through the kit—a task made more difficult in this weightless environment, although each item was securely latched in place.

“Is this it, sir?” Tommy asked and handed Remus what he hoped were the items he needed.

Remus let the scanner drift, snapped the cartridge into the small station, and entered a series of symbols, an action that resulted in dark orange liquid filling the hypo. “Now Tommy, place the cartridge against my neck and press the green button,” he said, using what seemed to be his last bit of strength.

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied and took the hypo.

“Good,” Remus said, trying to give a reassuring smile.

Tommy had to grab the couch in order to gain enough leverage for the injection, but with a little effort it was soon done, the orange liquid disappearing into the Tarchein’s thick neck.

“Thank you,” Remus said and closed his large gray eyes, once again unconscious.

Jayram, the principle planet in the Maudee system, along with its sister planet of Grandaram, was absorbed into the Empire in 6504-01. The process was more or less peaceful. However, Jayram rebel factions refusing to submit moved a majority of their space fleet, along with several captured Imperial ships, to a labyrinth of derelict isolated planets and moons in the Camembert Nebula. This faction of so-called freedom fighters, or Jayram raiders, continues to strike Imperial assets wherever they may be found, although close proximity to the Terran system has made them the target for the majority of attacks. This once proud, fiercely regimented military power has become nothing more than a community of thugs and pirates using cowardly hit-and-run tactics in an effort to intimidate and disrupt otherwise peaceful members of the Empire.

Weeks passed. Tommy tried to keep busy by playing games that he had loaded onto his wristcomm or by watching the navigation display in hopes of seeing any sign of another ship. He wasn’t at all sure how long the supplies of air and food would last, although the fact that the pod was designed to carry six, and Remus didn’t eat, was somewhat comforting.

Remus would, from time to time, wake up long enough for Tommy to fill a med cartridge, or for the alien to take a sip of water, or once even try to eat. Tommy thought that Remus was getting better, although sometimes he envied the alien’s long periods of sleep. Tommy was getting the feeling that they would both die in this little ship.
I wonder how long
it will be
before someone finds our bodies
, he thought. The chances of hitting anything seemed remote, but in time there was a chance they would drift into a gravity well, where they would burn up or explode on some desolate moon. That was a cheery thought, one that was quickly pushed aside by thoughts of his mom and dad. Were they okay? Were they out there somewhere, searching, worried about him? If only he could speak to them.

“Oxygen level caution. Check oxygen system and replenish supply canister. This is an oxygen level caution.” The computer’s voice startled Tommy into action, and he kicked over to the command panel for a closer look at the flashing yellow symbol displayed over the analog-type oxygen supply reference meter.

“Computer, how long?” he asked after drifting in silence for a moment.

“Oxygen depletion, if continued at this rate, in ninety-seven hours, twenty-two minutes, and fourteen seconds.”

“Four days, eh, Tommy?”

Tommy looked over at Remus, who had been woken by the computer’s warning. “Yes, sir, if someone is going to find us they better hurry up.”

“Well, let’s not lose hope just yet. The fleet is out there—they’ll find us,” Remus said confidently.

Tommy nodded and allowed himself to drift over to the replicator station. “One ration,” he commanded.

“Grab me one, Tommy. I feel like eating, and would you bring me the med kit?”

“Two rations,” Tommy ordered. “You do look better sir,” he said, handing Remus the wafers and a tube of water before swimming over to the kit.

Remus knew that the oxygen would be gone in four days if the two of them continued to use it at the current rate. One, however, could last eight days.
Four extra days just might make the difference…

“I feel better, Tommy,” Remus said, letting the tube of water float in place while he examined the food.

Just in time to suffocate
, Tommy thought, handing Remus the kit.

“Where are you from, Tommy?” Remus snapped a cartridge into the hypo station and adjusted his position to get a better look at his young companion, now adrift on his back eating wafers like an otter floating in the surf.

“I was born on Earth, in the North Americas Region, on the western coast, but I’ve spent most of my life in space with my parents,” Tommy replied. He broke off half the remaining wafer, looked at it for a moment, then gobbled it down.

“That makes sense. Few handle weightlessness like you, young man.”

Tommy smiled, rolled over, and wiggled back toward the food station. “One ration.”

“Guess you’re hungry today,” Remus said.

“Yes, sir. Well, eating makes me feel better,” he said, watching clear thick liquid fill up the cartridge Remus was holding.

“Indeed it does, my young friend. Indeed it does.” Remus smiled broadly. “Tell me, Tommy, what are you going to do with your life? What do you want to be when you grow up,” Remus asked, inspecting the hypo. T
his should be enough to
…
well, this should be enough
, he thought.

Tommy replied without thinking. He’d known what he wanted to do with his life for as long as he could remember. “I want to be a pilot sir, but not for the PDF. I want to fly over other worlds—the galaxy is a big place!”

Remus grinned. “Yes, it is. Have you thought of applying to the Academy?”

“Star Force? I didn’t think the Force would let Humans fly.”

“Well, they don’t let Humans command the big stuff, but you could pilot a fighter, and fighters go all over the Empire aboard battle cruisers.” Remus let half of an uneaten wafer float by his chin while he sipped from the tube of water.