Tommy Thorn Marked (4 page)

“A fighter pilot.” Tommy let the image settle in. He had turned from the food station to face the alien. “But the Academy…”

Remus swallowed the last of his food before pointing directly at Tommy. “It could happen, with some hard work and a little luck.”

Tommy allowed himself to drift closer to Remus. “What did you do aboard the Roger, Sir? I mean, well, I don’t recognize the uniform.”

Remus smiled and tried to adjust his couch a bit, even thinking of releasing the restraints, then thought better of it. “I’m, well, I was the chief viceroy to the Terran system.” A touch of pride could be heard in the alien’s voice.

Tommy looked a bit surprised.”You lived on Earth?”

“For over twenty standard years.” Remus took a moment to admire the tube of water before finishing off the contents. “I enjoy Earth, and I find Humans to be an extraordinary race.”

Tommy pulled his legs down to a kind of floating, seated position. “So you were traveling aboard an ore freighter?” Tommy had never heard of a Tarchein dignitary traveling aboard a freighter, especially an older freighter like the Roger.

“I was on my way to inspect the new methane storage facilities on Titan when we were attacked.”

“Attacked!” Tommy uncrossed his legs and straightened a bit.

“Oh yes, Jayram raiders!”

“Why didn’t they board us? That’s not like the raiders just to attack without taking spoils.”

“Quite right, Tommy, quite right. That’s because I don’t think it was the Jayram flying those ships.”

Tommy looked puzzled.

Remus laid his head back, clearly fatigued. “There are forces—Terran forces, Tommy—that I think may have been trying to kill me.”

“Looks like they may have succeeded—well, in four days anyway,” Tommy said, putting his hands behind his head, locking his fingers, and allowing himself to float toward the illuminated ceiling.

“Not dead yet, Tommy,” Remus replied.

“But, sir, the Roger’s crew was almost all Human, most from Earth,” Tommy said, still focused on the ceiling.

“Fear of change knows no allegiance to race, Tommy. Only death and chaos to those not committed to their cause,” Remus said, again examining the hypo.

Tommy rolled over and studied the contents of the hypo for the first time. “What’s the clear stuff, Sir?”

Remus hesitated for a moment. “Tommy, I’ve lived a long wonderful life. But you, my boy, are just getting started.” The viceroy paused and grinned at the puzzled look on Tommy’s face. “Two people will use up the air supply in four days. One person can last eight, maybe longer.”

A realization of what the Tarchein was saying came over Tommy’s face. “No way, sir,” he said firmly. He rolled over and, making a swimming motion, propelled himself to the hatch at the rear of the pod.

Remus smiled. “Tommy—“

“We’re in this together sir. And like you said, the fleet is out there. They will find us!”

“Listen, Tommy—“

“This is the Imperial Star Force cruiser Caddif broadcasting on emergency band Tango. Repeat, this is the Imperial Star Force cruiser Caddif on Tango. Come in, please.”

Remus actually managed a soft laugh as Tommy pushed off for the command center. “Not dead yet, Mr. Thorn. Not dead yet!”

Tommy, overjoyed, pushed a flashing button on the command panel. “This is escape pod alpha four-two. It’s good to hear from you, Caddif!”

Three days later, Tommy was seated alone in the Caddif’s galley when Remus poked his head in.

“Mind if I join you, Mr. Thorn?”

Looking up from a segmented plate of uneaten food, Tommy pushed back a thick tuft of straw-colored hair and looked up at Remus through bright blue eyes. “Please, sir,” he said.

“Still craving wafers, I see,” Remus said trying to lighten the mood.

Tommy tried hard to smile as Remus sat. He could only guess at the heartbreak the young Human must be feeling. “I’m sorry about your parents, Tommy.”

Tommy continued to look at the uneaten food. “All the time we were adrift I could at least hold on to the hope that they were safe.”

Remus, even after spending so much time on Earth, struggled for something to say, anything that might comfort. “They were on the command deck, Tommy…”

“I know.”

Remus stood, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What are your plans?”

“Not sure.” Tommy moved some food around with a multipurpose utensil. “Don’t have any family left.”

“Look, Tommy, I’ve been recalled to Tarchein.”

Tommy looked up into the alien’s gray eyes.

“Why don’t you come live with me, Mr. Thorn?” Remus waited for a moment, trying to judge Tommy’s reaction. “I’d like for you to become part of my family.”

“On Tarchein?” Tommy asked, surprised.

“Sure.” Remus was pleased to see the light in the young man’s eyes. “There are a number of Humans on Tarchein, so much to see and do, and you’ll get the best education in the galaxy.”

Tommy turned away. He had lived most of his life in space with his own kind, and though he felt no ill will toward the Tarchein, he had never imagined living on their world. “I’m not sure, sir, my parents…”

“I can never replace your parents, Tommy, but I believe they would have wanted me to help in any way I could. After all, you did save my life—twice,” Remus said, bending his large head a little, trying to catch Tommy’s eye.

“It was nothing, sir,” Tommy replied softly.

“The galaxy is a big place, Tommy, you said it yourself. Together we can see some of it.” Remus let the statement hang.

Tommy continued to stare at his food. For the first time since hearing about the fate of his parents, he was not feeling quite so alone. “I think I would like to see Tarchein, Mr. Remus.”

“That sounds wonderful Tommy,” Remus said, putting both hands on Tommy’s shoulders.

Tommy, relieved of a burden he hadn’t been fully conscious of, stood and hugged Remus. “Thank you, sir.”

Remus patted the boy’s back and sighed in relief. “You’re welcome, my young friend…you’re welcome.”

The Planetary Defense Force, or PDF, is an outdated organization, commissioned, as on other Imperial planets, to simply appease local governments—giving them a false sense of security and a perception of self-determination. Underfunded, using outdated hardware and ill-trained personnel, the PDF would be no match for any alien incursions. I cite the growing number of Jayram raids as proof positive. This force is, in fact, used primarily to contain and or curtail local malcontents. Just one more form of control, albeit benevolently sinister, in the Tarchein grand scheme of giving systems a false sense of partnership, when in fact we are clearly subservient to the will of the imperious Queen Mother!

Empress Darvona stood in front of the glowing communication orb, seemingly in a trance. Her hands waved before the great object as if caressing a loved one before, apparently satisfied with the images, abruptly throwing her head and glided from the seclusion of her dimly lit meditation chamber to an adjacent terrace. Her shimmering black gown, dusted with red jewels, clung to her long shapely body and draped into luxurious folds that slid across the cold, dark, polished tile, before she paused to admire the view afforded by the clear steel of her balcony.

Thousands of lights shone up from the brightly illuminated, densely populated capital city below. The sight filled the queen’s dark heart with pride and caused her full red lips to curl into a broad, rather disturbing smile as she shifted her gaze upward to the star-filled night sky.

I wonder how many of those bright points of lights are mine?
“The mighty Tarchein Empire indeed,” she snarled, the thought producing a sinister grin on her beautifully featured face as she whirled and headed back into her chamber. She paused, only for a moment, at the milky-white sphere, clutched at both ends by chrome-red stars, their evenly spaced points laid flat against a full third of the ball. Then she casually waved a hand, flooding the eerie space with soft blue light as she nodded toward one of her massive royal Couragian guards; who in turn, commanded a pair of gigantic doors, adorned with grotesque carvings of tortured aliens, to unlatch and slowly swing open.

“Come in, my dear,” Darvona said. Her hands, almost completely covered by the gown’s long tapered sleeves, were now spread wide in a welcoming gesture.

As the girl entered, the massive doors slid closed in silence, only to latch with a deep heavy tone, like that of a great vault being sealed. The tall, beautiful, youthful-looking witch, adorned in a form-fitting red dress, moved cautiously forward and bowed slightly.
I have felt something, my sovereign.

Darvona acknowledged her sister’s thoughts, allowing them to take form in her mind. Of course, she was not really a sister, but a being the empress had created in her own likeness. A member of the ruling coven, although that too was a lie—only she ruled!

“Speak,” the empress commanded. She had neither the time nor the patience to interpret this being’s clumsy attempt to communicate telepathically, especially when they stood face to face.

“It is a subtle thing, my sovereign, as if in some way you were probing my mind from a great distance—but not you,” the witch said without looking up.

Darvona moved toward the girl, slowly walked behind her, and paused, as if she were examining a work of art. She too had seen faint tremors in the sphere, like tiny flashes of dark lightning.

The young woman maintained a subservient posture, but she did not tremble. Darvona could not sense the kind of fear she had felt so many times when addressing the Tarchein commanders or appointed political leaders. This pleased the empress; it was just as she had created. Not as mindlessly fearless as her Couragian guards. This witch and the other members of the coven were proud and confident counselors with enough courage to speak their minds and enough intelligence to know when to keep silent.

Darvona moved again to face the so-called Imperial princess and, placing one long ruby-red sharpened nail under her chin, gently raised up the girl’s face. “When did you first notice these—thoughts, my dear?”

The girl looked directly into Darvona’s almond-shaped golden eyes, specks of fluorescent green now flashing with annoyance. “It has been for some time. I thought at first it—“

The room’s light went from blue to shades of red. The sphere turned to a dark swirling violet, and there was the sound of rushing wind as Darvona abruptly raised one hand—fingers flexed, as if to strike!

The young witch did not flinch or in any way stiffen. Even in the face of her queen’s fury, she only stood quietly, consumed by dark anticipation. The empress, however, did not strike, but instead slowly lowered her hand, took another moment to calm, and allowed the meditation room to return to a soft blue glow before she spoke. “You must always come to me with these kinds of insights or feelings, child.”

“Yes, my sovereign,” the girl said, relief evident in her voice.

Darvona, while still looking directly at the girl, again raised her hand, a long, slender finger pointing toward one of the armor-laden guards. “It’s all right, my dear, do not let this incident trouble you.”

She paused, put a hand on the girl’s back, and gently began guiding her toward the doors, which had already begun to swing open.

“But I trust you will inform me of any—probing in the future.” Darvona smiled, but if that was meant to be a reassuring gesture, it had quite the opposite effect.

“Yes, my sovereign, of course,” the witch said and moved quickly and quietly out of the room.

The queen’s forced smile vanished as she watched the girl leave, although she continued to stare until the great doors had slid fully closed before turning once again to the now pasty-colored globe. A quick jerk of her hand brought the room back into darkness.

It had been thousands of years since she had felt what the girl had described, but she could still remember the sensation. A small, almost silent tap in the dark recesses of her mind. A tickle, much like an insect crawling along the back of her neck.
The Hunter is near!
The realization of that fact startled and yes, frightened her.