Tommy Thorn Marked (42 page)

At 42,000 feet, the strike package hit a layer of slightly increased visibility, where Tommy again leveled out the formation and let his bird slid back to the lead Scat. “Lion Lead to Scat Lead,” he said, looking through the Scat leader’s flat-sided angular canopy.

“Scat Lead, go ahead, Commander.”

The entire formation, streaking through the mist, was bobbing at bit in an effort to stay within visual contact. The flashing of red position lights, meant to aid in station keeping, surrounded now by an eerie orange glow, became mesmerizing—almost hypnotic.

“We are over the rally point,“Tommy advised. “You boys stay put while we do a sweep of the area.”

“Copy,” the Vantek pilot responded and led the assault ships into a tight left-hand level turn, setting up his orbit.

“Okay, Cruiser, let’s do some of that fighter pilot stuff—pushing up to three point seven,” Tommy said, slamming the throttles forward, increasing his speed, and pulling the fighter hard over into an inverted dive.

“Three point seven—roger,” Gary acknowledged and rolled inverted, watching Tommy through the top of his canopy.

At four thousand feet, Tommy finally broke through the thick clouds and, dragging long orange trails of vapor, snapped his fighter upright to stay in the more manageable haze present at this altitude.

Gary pulled hard to stay with Tommy, his stabs twitching as he tightened up the formation.

“Keep your scans on low band, Cruiser,” Tommy advised, moving sensor data to his faceplate’s readout. “Roat, I've got nothing. You feeling anything?”

“Lots of signals—passive looks from Seaside, but no hostile scans,” Roat replied.

“Roger that, Roat, keep listening, but nothing active,” Tommy said, concern evident in his tone.

“Copy, nothing active,” Roat said, then added, “Seaside Commander.”

Tommy, banking hard left, took a long look at the dazzling beauty of the brightly lit, isolated Titan colony of Seaside. “We’re at the checkpoint, Cruiser.”

Seaside, one of the first colonies established by the Tarchein, was located on the coast of a large methane sea. It consisted of five agricultural spheres, each twenty miles in diameter, all connected to a central hub or cityscape of clustered, soaring, sculptured airtight buildings.

“Coming right now—to five one mark seven for the I.P.” Tommy announced and put the lights of Seaside behind them.
A light on a hill, it’s nice to see humanity thriving in such a desolate place,
Tommy thought
.

“Let’s push it, Cruiser,” Tommy continued.

“Ready for the push,” Gary replied, readjusting his position in the EAM.

Tommy could hear the smile in Gary’s voice as he rolled the Starbird over and pulled back on the control stick, descending at high speed, first inverted, then rolling upright, and diving toward the seemingly endless stretch of dunes below.

“Initial point in seven, six…” Roat counted off.

Tommy scanned a projected color map and course line now flashing a turn point symbol. “Stand by for the cut, Cruiser.”

“Three, two, MARK!” Roat announced.

Tommy, with Cruiser now slightly above and off his left wing panel, raked his bird into a ninety-degree right-hand turn and descended into a very deep and dark sharp-sided canyon.

“Roat, give me the track,” Tommy commanded, eyes glued to his helmet’s displays. An updated three-dimensional track appeared on Tommy's faceplate as the two fighters screamed through the canyon, just wide enough for both birds. In fact, the narrow canyon forced Gary to slide up into a modified trail position as Tommy led them through a series of twisting, high-bank, high-speed turns.

“Target at two point three miles. Negative on all scans—we are not being painted,” Roat advised.

“Copy, Roat, better wake up the fins—just in case,” Tommy said, banking left then back hard right, wisps of nitrogen rolling off his control surfaces.

Tommy yanked his bird back to the right, coming dangerously close to the rocky cliff, and keyed the mic. “Cruiser, start the music, but wait for my signal.”

“Missiles are ready, all blaster ports charged and in the green…scans?” Roat asked.

“Two’s hot—standing by,” Gary said and commanded more suit cooling. He was working hard to stay with Tommy.

“Negative on scans, Roat,” Tommy cautioned Roat, then squeezed the throttle’s mic button. “Cruiser, keep your scans passive. I don't think they know we're here. Let’s not ring the bell.”

“Roger that, Lead,” Gary replied.

A large outcrop of shadowy, dark gray buildings started to take shape on the canyon wall.

“We are over the target,” Roat calmly announced.

Climbing up and out of the canyon, both Starbirds banked to the left and flashed by the structure, helmet readouts flashing as target designator symbols turned from a segmented circle to a locked diamond. The fleet’s target was a well-lit, thermal-control complex, consisting of a series of structures that extended down into the canyon wall as well as up on the flat, barren dune. The gray-colored main complex, positioned on the dunes, included a half-mile-diameter biodome, which, at the moment, was full of Human families relaxing and playing in the wooded setting.

“For someone under attack, they sure look casual,” Gary said, taking a quick glance as the two streaked by the dome.

Tommy slowed his fighter and rolled inverted just below the thick overcast in order to get a better view of the startled men, women, and children, now moving for the security of the main complex.

Gary, now seeing the panicked commotion below, added, “What’s up with that?”

“Not sure, Cruiser,” Tommy replied as the two ships entered the lower cloud level.

Continuing to slow, both Tommy and Gary dropped back out of the clouds and cautiously came back around for another look. “Lion Lead to Scat Lead—report.”

“Scat Lead, steady on station—negative contacts.” The Vantek pilot’s response came quickly.

“Copy that, Scat Lead, we may have gotten dressed up for nothing. Looks like somebody called off the party. I don't see any signs of a Jayram attack,” Tommy offered.

“Copy, we’ll stand by,” the Scat pilot reported, clearly disappointed.

“Cruiser, find a perch and stay ready. I’m going to make another pass.”

“Tommy, are you sure—”

“Find some high ground, Lieutenant,” Tommy ordered.

“Breaking off,” Gary bemoaned as his fighter pulled into a steep vertical climb, trailing vapor until out of sight.

“Roat, go hot with a scan, find me something—and contact strike ops,” Tommy said as he rolled around and back into the canyon, but this time slowing into a controlled hover.

“What’s up, Roat?” Tommy asked and swung the nose of his fighter to the left, bringing weapons to bear on the lower complex as Roat focused high-powered beams of light to help identify possible threats. The Starbird’s target acquisition sensors continued with a now-active search.

“I’m still showing negative on all scans, no locks, no shields—nothing, Commander. The target is dark and cold,” Roat said.

“Anything from ops?” Tommy’s helmet-mounted targeting information continued to jump from spot to spot on his faceplate as his fighter slowly drifted past the darkened lower complex.

Roat hesitated…

“Roat?” Tommy repeated.

“I’m sorry, Commander, but contact with the ship is intermittent. Strange, but it appears that my long-range communication amplifier is malfunctioning,” Roat finally responded.

“The communication amplifier, Roat?”

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. I’ll keep trying,” Roat said.

Saying “I told you so” to a computer just didn’t seem to feel right, but he did it anyway. “Seven percent, Roat.”

Tommy got no response from his artificial crewman.

Suddenly, deep within the canyon, several miles from the complex, a rock façade parted, activating a thick iron hanger door, which unsealed and rattled open, releasing shafts of red light and four Jayram Shadowbat fighters!

“Sir, contact!” Roat shouted.

Tommy did not hesitate, but kicked the left control for his vertical vane and went to full power! The Starbird rolled violently to the right, shooting up and out of the canyon, just as a pair of missiles impacted on the face of the lower complex.

“Shadowbats—four of them, Delta class,” Roat calmly announced.

“Cruiser, we got company!” Tommy yelled, pulling back over the top, getting a clear view of the four bats screaming up and out of the canyon in pursuit.

Gary, his computer already locked on a Shadowbat, was diving through the orange fog straight towards Tommy.

“Rear shields, Roat.” Tommy said, and looked back past his shoulder, straining to get a tally just as the four enemy fighters split into two sections.

“Rear shields to full,” Roat responded, rapidly deploying missile decoys in a series of blinding flashes.

Tommy continued his climb into the white-orange soup, maneuvering stabs snapped full out, allowing the ship to pull around and down in just about its own length. Energy-absorbent material in Tommy’s seat compressed to negate even the twenty percent of the building G forces as his Starbird accelerated straight down toward the number three Shadowbat, leader of the second element.

“Forward shields now, Roat!”

“
Forward shields,” Roat said, Tommy’s Starbird now beak-to-beak with the lead Shadowbat.

Tommy focused on the target’s projected ID, surrounded by a red segmented pipper—suddenly, out of the haze!

“
Missile lock,” Roat announced.

Tommy’s forward view was now full of pissed-off Shadowbats!

He squeezed off a pair of missiles. Weapon bay doors flashed open, then closed faster than could be seen—both missiles impacting on the hapless fighter. The first was deflected by shields. The second blew the forward section of the saucer-shaped, flat black ship into flaming debris, but not before he could unleash a hail of yellow-green plasma rounds. Unfortunately, the Jayram’s last act was a futile one, as the balls of energy bounced harmlessly off Tommy’s far superior shields, while he, in turn, sliced through what was left of the tumbling enemy fighter.

“Splash one,” exclaimed Tommy as he watched the burning Shadowbat impact on the dune.

“Make that two!” Gary was already behind the leader of the second section as what was left of his first victim’s fighter drifted through the Titan haze.

Tommy searched for and found the other Shadowbat heading away at full speed, just feet above the ground.

“Looks like I’ve got one running for Seaside,” Tommy said, pulling down inverted toward the spike displayed on his faceplate.
This guy could do a lot of damage
, Tommy thought as both ships moved ever closer to the populated colony.

“Copy, Lead,” Gary said. His prey had headed back toward the complex, dove into the darkened canyon, and was now going full out—leading a very dangerous high-speed chase.

Tommy rolled upright and easily overtook the Shadowbat, who for some reason had slowed and stopped making erratic evasive movements. He would have liked to somehow capture this Jayram, but what could he do? It was clear to him that this alien wasn’t an experienced pilot, and it wasn’t like the ruthless Raiders to go on suicide missions.
What gives
? he thought as he edged up ever closer.

“Roat, see if you can lock into a comm beam for this guy, and get the translator ready,” Tommy said, now close enough to see the pilot tucked behind the small clear canopy.

The bat rolled into a gentle bank and started to climb.
He’s
no doubt wondering why I haven’t smoked him
, Tommy thought.

“
All right, sir,” Roat said.

“This is Star Force Commander Thorn. Slow your fighter. Lower your shields and gear.”

Tommy could see the helmeted head turn to look up and back at his fighter.
He looks cramped in that damn thing
, he thought, moving in tighter, making sure the Jayram pilot could clearly see his kill symbols and the Marked designation. “Just in case you need some encouragement,” he said to himself.

Steve was startled by the sound of a Human’s voice. Of course he knew Humans flew for the Force, but still. “Sorry, Commander, don’t think I’ll let your Imperial friends put my head in a box today,” he finally said and then thought briefly of his mother.

Tommy stared at the Shadowbat’s pilot, making eye contact.
Human, but why, how
?
Humans flying for the Jayram—not possible
, he thought.