Tommy Thorn Marked (30 page)

Gary felt the shuttle rise up into a hover, followed by the unmistakable thump of the gear doors snapping closed.

“We’ve been cleared to transition—launch tube…”

Gary rotated his seat 180 degrees to face forward.

“Please ensure seats are forward and all restraints are secured. We will be spaceborne shortly,” the shuttle’s captain continued over the ship’s intercom.

The announcement was followed by the ship’s chief, who quietly moved down the single narrow aisle of the passenger compartment, making sure all was in order for the launch. Gary looked up and gave a polite smile, then returned his attention to the activity on the hanger deck. Was it possible—was he going to miss the Renegade? No, he would not miss her, but he would surely miss Bo and Tommy.
Tommy, why did he decide to stay?
Gary thought as he watched hoverbots scurry about the shuttle, making final checks before they entered the launch tube. He was at peace with his decision, wasn’t he?
If it is the right choice, why do I feel as if I’m abandoning my friend? Why did Tommy decide to stay? Maybe it was Remus, Maybe he’s grown too close to the Tarchein…I sure wish he was coming along,
he thought. Then, resigned to the fact that Tommy was staying, Gary slowly adjusted his port’s visibility to zero.

“Major Eldger.” The shuttle captain’s voice roused the dozing officer, who adjusted his relaxed position—a bit.

“We have a Lieutenant Thorn requesting a late boarding. It will delay our launch, but we’ll still make our transfer window.”

Eldger nodded to the crew chief, who then turned and headed for the flight deck.

“The lieutenant’s cutting it a little close, eh boys,” Eldger commented from behind Sloan and Gary.

Neither responded, nor did they turn to face the Marked major—both, however, were all smiles as the shuttle floated back to the boarding ramp.

You seek perfection but resist isolation – inquire of the caterpillar, and marvel not at the manifestation of wings.

The sleek little VIP shuttle had made a quick stop, docking at the orbiting station Indimo just long enough to pick up two candidates: a tacnav, Major Jed Ringer; and a sergeant out of the Corps, Benjamin Pell. After greetings and congratulations, the five newest recruits got busy exchanging every bit of information, fact or rumored, that any of them had heard about the upcoming indoctrination. Very little was known about the training of the Marked, and everything from some sort of genetic transformation to twelve months of cruel isolation and mind manipulation or brainwashing was postulated. Most of the suggested curriculum was outrageous and ridiculous, but it did allow for a great deal of nervous laughter. At one point their excited banter had even woken Eldger, the major opening one eye and clearing his throat before readjusting his position and going back to sleep. The only thing they all agreed upon, however, was that some would-be members of the Marked had indeed died during training, a thought that darkened the mood and silenced the five Humans as the shuttle sped on toward a secluded base on the planet Luna-tae, the location of the Marked indoctrination and training complex.

Six-and-a-half hours later, Tommy, along with most of the passengers onboard the Marked shuttle, adjusted the viewing ports and stared out eagerly as their transport slowed and circled a row of brightly illuminated landing pads.

The raised platforms rimmed a tightly clustered group of majestic-looking buildings, each attached to a number of clear biodomes, all of which were perched atop a flattened bluff tucked into the end of a narrow, snow-covered valley. Giant snow-topped trees with light blue needles and bearing red berries the size of plums slid under the shuttle as it settled into a hover and then landed.

“Welcome to Camp Calder,” Major Eldger said, stretching.

Camp Calder, if mentioned at all, was thought by most to be a concoction—a myth. Just one more fabrication, most likely started and encouraged by the Marked in order to further perpetuate the lore of their mystical order.

The group exited ahead of the major, who kept prodding them to move along. “You’ll have plenty of time for sightseeing,” he said.

But Tommy paused in the elevated clear tunnel nevertheless. It was quite beautiful, breathtaking really. A crystal blue sky dappled with billowy white clouds crowned rolling snow-covered hills, partially concealed by a dense forest of everblue trees. While a meandering snow-edged stream, mist rising from its sparkling clear water, wound its way through the valley, terminating under one of the expansive biodomes, providing much-needed thermal heating. To see shooting ranges of thick green grass and multicolored gardens protected under the half-mile-wide domes among so much snow and ice was, well, breathtaking.

“Come on, Thorn,” Chad said again. “You’ll get your chance to see it up close soon enough.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Major,” Tommy said over his shoulder.

“It looks pretty, Lieutenant, but it’s twenty below zero out there and full of hateful things,” Eldger replied.

Tommy just nodded and continued to move slowly through the tube, which terminated into a large, bright and cheerful reception area.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” a very attractive redheaded female said, urging them toward the wide, curved counter that bore the winged dagger symbol of the Star Force.

She was Human but not a member of the Force—at least she wasn’t wearing a uniform that Tommy recognized.

“This will only take a moment,” she continued. “I’m sure you’re all anxious to get to your quarters.”

It was only midday, but Tommy was beginning to notice his body’s need for sleep. He glanced down at his wristcomm: oh two hundred his time.
No wonder
, he thought and made a quick adjustment to the device before falling into a makeshift line forming at the counter.

“Not bad,” Gary said, poking Tommy to get his attention.

Tommy looked around the large, very neat reception area, yawned, and then raised his arms in a stretch. “Not bad?” he scoffed. “This place is unbelievable.”

A large, dark blue model of a Starbird, painted in the colors of the Crimson Lyons, along with an assault transport and a hovertank, hung from arched beams that segmented the clear entry dome.

“Good luck, men. I’ll see you around campus,” Major Eldger said before winking at the smiling redhead and moving through a pair of clear pressure doors, each etched with the symbol of the Marked, that opened with his approach.

“Steel,” Sloan said, moving to the counter and flashing a broad grin.

“Yes, Captain Steel,” the female said as her fingers danced over an acrylic display.

“And you are?” Sloan asked.

“And I have a lot of processing to do, Captain,” she replied.

“You know what they say about all work,” Sloan pressed.

The redhead looked up from the entry screen and smiled. “Your quarters and itinerary have been loaded into your wristcomm, Captain.”

Sloan returned the smile. “No play makes for a dull boy,” he continued and started for the exit.

“Captain,” the redhead called.

Sloan turned.

“It’s a pretty tough course.” She paused. “Are you sure you’ll have time to play?”

Sloan grinned. “Always my dear—always,” he said and walked through the doors.

Tommy turned to Gary and said under his voice, “Brother…”

Gary was still watching Sloan saunter down the hall. “Guy should have been a fighter pilot,” he said without looking at Tommy.

“He doesn’t like to fly, Cruiser. Thinks it’s dangerous,” Tommy said and turned to the smiling receptionist. “Thorn.”

“Welcome, Lieutenant Thorn,” she said.

“Dangerous,” Gary mused quietly, shaking his head.

Tommy smiled to himself, a little of the tension he had been hiding beginning to fade—for now.

Later that afternoon, after a long nap, Tommy sat in his rather spacious quarters, staring at a pair of brilliantly colored red birds. Both the size of large owls, they had taken refuge from the cold by huddling together on a tree limb just outside his room’s very large round window.

It would be easy to imagine that you were on some sort of holiday, Tommy was thinking when the door’s chime sounded.

“Come in,” he said, the room’s security voice recognition system opening the hatch.

It was Sloan and Gary, both dressed in new uniforms. Their look momentarily, well not really startled, but surprised Tommy.

“These are in your gear lockers,” Gary said, seeing the look on Tommy’s face.

Tommy turn to examine his room. So far all he had done was reduce his window’s visibility to full opaque, sleep, wake up and adjust his window again.

Sloan walked over to a small integrated datapad located on the wall opposite the window and touched a symbol. “This is your locker and—“

“Wow.” Tommy rushed over to the area as the wall separated and slid out of sight.

Not only were there new uniforms, but boots, coats, and exercise gear, and there was even a small food-preparation area.

Sloan smiled and walked past Tommy, still in a bit of shock, straight to the small cooling container, where he proceeded to pull out a couple of cold beverage tubes.

Sloan took one and tossed another to Gary, already seated on Tommy’s couch. “Well, what do you think?” he asked, holding his hands by his sides.

They were both wearing the uniform of the Marked, minus the emblem and sidearm.

Tommy made a low approving whistle.

It was similar to all Star Force uniforms, but the one-piece garment was navy blue with trousers pulled down over and latched to matching boots. It also included an integrated waist belt with a silver latch—that normally would have been adorned with the symbol of the Mark. The jacket, worn with the dress uniform, was a sky-blue, double-breasted affair. Waist length, with a high collar, integrated wristcomm, and silver stripes denoting rank at the base of each sleeve. The dress uniform was to be worn with all of their decorations and awards, including wings and medals. Sloan’s Golden Dagger, adorned with three small rubies, looked very impressive on the light blue background of his open waistcoat.

“Mess dress?” Tommy asked, raising his left eyebrow.

“Check your comm, man. We got our welcome aboard banquet tonight,” Sloan replied.

“Get changed, Tommy,” Gary added. “We’re going to be late.”

“Hey, wasn’t there a cloak—remember those guys we saw on the Nova,” Tommy asked, looking at Gary.

“Cloak is for the Marked only,” Gary replied, and he and Sloan headed for the hatch. “We’ll meet you there—hurry,” he continued, and they left the room.

The dining facility—Tommy could not think of it as a mere chow hall—was well lit, with colorful unit badges of the Marked engraved on the walls, segmented by huge windows that overlooked the snow-covered valley and a spectacular waterfall.

“Excuse me, sir.” A young man dressed in a white jumpsuit with the red trim had recognized the lost look of a new candidate. “Are you a member of Class 13-47?” he asked.

Tommy had to glance at his wristcomm. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re expected in the number two banquet room,” he said and pointed to a hatch on the far wall.

Tommy nodded and walked to the hatch. He stopped just long enough to admire a pair of engraved oversized Ki-blades before moving close enough for the hatch to automatically separate and silently glide apart.

The oval-shaped room, dimly lit by yellow-gold evenly spaced pillars, was dominated by a large silver table, which was covered with elegant silver dinnerware and red crystal goblets. Tommy let his eyes adjust to the lighting before moving to a place at the table where his name tag had been placed on a small silver platter located between Garry and Sloan.

“Nice of you to join us,” Gary said sarcastically under his breath.

He was the last of the twenty-four class members to be seated, but apparently not the last one in. At least it seemed that way, as across from each candidate was an empty silver chair.
Maybe some classes are larger than others,
he thought, but he did not want to ask. The room was uncomfortably solemn—most of the men either looking down at their empty plates or just simply staring into the vacant chair across from them.

Suddenly Sloan broke the silence. “This is nice,” he said.

The group laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. All had endured their share of indoctrination programs. In fact, they had done this many times for a number of different programs. One could say, without hesitation, that every type of advanced military rating available in the Force was represented in this group, and these men had all excelled. Nevertheless, that was then and this was now. A new course, a new challenge, a higher bar. They had all experienced the feeling and they knew the drill: you’re the new guy here, clueless and untried—prove you belong!

Gary reached over, somewhat irreverently, grabbed his crystal goblet and, nudging Tommy, pointed out his name, which had been engraved, along with the symbol of the Marked.

“Would you look at this place?” he asked in a low tone.

Tommy reached for his goblet and ran his finger across the name etched there.
Maybe this
is
different,
he thought.
We have so far been treated with a great deal of respect. Maybe…no.
He suspected this was just a diversion trying to lull them into a false sense of security. He could only imagine what kind of torment they were in store for tomorrow—maybe even latter tonight!.

Sloan was evidently thinking the same thing as he leaned toward Tommy. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he said.

Tommy nodded in agreement while checking the next day’s schedule on his wristcomm when the hatch opened and twenty-four officers of the Marked marched in. They too were arrayed in their finest mess dress uniform, including the heavy dark-blue hooded cloak of the Marked. The thick blue garment barely moved as each officer took a position behind an empty chair.

Major Eldger was standing in front of Tommy, his handsome face framed by his hood’s shimmering silver lining. And although he did not speak, nor did he smile, there was something about the shine in his bright light-brown eyes that lightened the somber mood.