Tommy Thorn Marked (5 page)

Darvona let her hands again caress the orb, colors changing, dancing inside the sphere as the empress reached out her mind to search the endless depths of space for something long forgotten, a shadow from her ancient past.

The Great Dark Queen did not like the feeling of being frightened. She had grown accustomed to living without it.

“And I will do so again,” she said as the mist within the sphere began to swirl, growing deep red in color.

The Tarchein capital, bearing the same name but commonly called The City, was established over a thousand years ago, moving from the ancient location of Uredo when the planet was united under Queen Darvona. The Tarchein were a barbarous warlike race before Queen Darvona brought peace, stability, and technology that would transform this single planet into the center of a great empire. Since that time, the Tarchein capital has grown in size, primarily to accommodate the enormous administrative demands of the emerging Empire, which under the leadership of the now Divine Empress Darvona governs over sixty percent of the explored galaxy. The City, which encompasses over 14,000 square miles and completely covers one of the larger inhabitable landmasses on the planet, is the permanent home to over six billion Tarchein and aliens alike, a number that swells during royal gatherings and feast days. Must-see attractions include the grounds of the Imperial Palace, the Galactic Center for the Arts, and the Star Force War Museum.

Tommy had, at first, found life on Tarchein to be a difficult adjustment. This, of course, was completely understandable, considering the recent loss of his parents, a life lived primarily in space, and the uncertainty that comes with any change, let alone a move to an alien planet. After all, Remus was still pretty much a stranger, their time spent together in the tiny escape pod notwithstanding.

The transition, however, was made somewhat easier for Tommy by the mere fact that he had spent so much time aboard starships or on orbiting stations. And because of this, he had not grown accustomed to wide-open spaces, natural sunlight, or the taste of air that hadn’t been recycled. All of which would help early on as he struggled to acclimate himself, because the Tarchein capital, for all of its majesty, many of its buildings towering over a mile high, had none of these attributes in abundance.

Oh, one could see the twin suns', when not in the perpetual shadows cast by the thousands of high-rise superstructures—although due to rising radiation levels, prolonged exposure was increasingly ill-advised. And the air was breathable enough, but the vast majority of the Tarchein population preferred the filtered gases supplied by massive subterranean processing plants. All buildings and thoroughfares had been sealed for centuries, making any open-air excursions a rare occurrence. As for open spaces, The City was home to six billion inhabitants, packed into a mere 14,000 square miles, making it, by any standard, the most densely populated metroplex in the Empire.

But that being said, despite some obvious limitations and a spattering of arbitrary restrictions, Tommy adjusted quickly, and he and Remus settled into a nice life—very nice indeed. For as it turned out, not only was Tommy’s foster father a fine diplomat, but he was also one of the wealthiest Tarcheins in the Empire. His plateaus penthouse, perched high above the often chaotic movements of the capital city, afforded Tommy a bird’s-eye view of brilliantly colored skyscrapers, the soaring black spirals of the Imperial Palace, and the seemingly endless streams of hover trams, buses, and personal vehicles. Although the really elegant vehicles, or ground-level traffic, afforded exclusively to the Tarchein elite, seemed little more than specks from Tommy’s lofty vantage point.

Although the term bird’s-eye view should not be taken literally, as Tommy had never actually seen a bird, or any other animal for that matter, while on Tarchein. A result, no doubt, of a deep-seated mistrust of anything that could not be precisely controlled. Nature, it seemed, was not something to be treasured and preserved, but rather a variable to be subdued or methodically eradicated.

An empire cannot be built on sentiment. All must yield and conform to the enlightened logic and order inherent within Imperial rule. Failure to do so must result in modification or extermination. Tommy was required to memorize this rigid philosophy early on in his studies on Tarchein.

But, as previously stated, life with Remus was one of privilege, reserved for a very few, even among the natural-born of the great Empire, although the term natural-born should not be taken in a historically literal sense. For with what seemed to be unlimited resources, Tommy was educated by the finest minds in the galaxy. Remus spared no expense on elaborate field trips or long restful vacations; his favorite of which was a visit to a beautiful home Remus had on Mietree, a green planet with cities built into the hills and blended with lush tropical forest. There in the mild climate, Tommy could swim in cool clear streams, soak up warm sunshine, or walk for hours along winding tree-lined paths, which always ended with the most delightful picnic lunches, wonderful stories, and long naps in carpets of knee-high, yellow-green grass.

And so, between his studies, field trips and vacations, time passed quickly. It had been just a little less than two standard years since the loss of his parents, and although he thought of them almost every day, the pain had lessened. And something else—the respect and admiration that he had felt for Remus early on had grown into something much larger and more endearing. Yes indeed, these last two years together were to be forever cherished, but Remus never let Tommy forgot about his dream.

In fact, shortly after his fifteenth birthday, at the urging of Remus, he had applied for and been selected to attend the Imperial Star Force Academy. His foster father insisted that his title and wealth had nothing whatsoever to do with his acceptance, but Tommy was sure that it hadn’t hurt.

“Your test scores are in the top two percentile, my boy,” Remus had insisted.

It was true that Tommy had graded out very well, but he knew much of his success was due, in no small part, to the advantages he had been given. Advantages in education, travel, and access to the finest trainers and tutors in the Empire. A fact that was never lost on Tommy, no matter how much Remus lovingly pontificated. Still, he was overjoyed with his appointment, but now came the unbearably long, anxiety-filled months of waiting for his new life at the military academy to commence. His civilian education had ended, and although he still trained, it was becoming harder and harder to fully focus. Even a final trip to Mietree, prior to his leaving for the Star Force’s orbiting school, did very little to quell his jitters.

But then, finally—the big day arrived. Tommy had been so excited that he had barely eaten, and although Remus smiled and helped with his uniform and Academy-issued wristcomm, Tommy could see a sadness in the Tarchein’s eyes. Both worked hard to keep from getting emotional, a task that got tougher as the day wore on, but as they departed the long gray limo and headed, along with several other cadets and their families, into the main administration building, Tommy was consumed with only one incredibly cheerful thought.
I’m going back into space, and I’m going to be a pilot…

It was just turning dusk. The first and brightest of the Tarchein suns had already dipped behind the cityscape when the two exited the lift and stepped into the spacious port of debarkation for the Academy. The large room, covered on one side by ceiling-to-floor clear steel, was soon cluttered with friends, loved ones, and enthusiastic young first-year cadets, or Toadies as they were called by upperclassmen, who were required to report one month prior to the start of classes for orientation and indoctrination.

“Where has the time gone? It seems only yesterday that we first stepped off the landing platform together,” Remus said as they made their way into a clearing toward the middle of the room.

Tommy smiled, distracted, while trying to look over or around parents in order to take in some of the new cadets. He felt a twinge of nerves and a bit of sadness at leaving.
Let’s go,
he thought, sure that he’d be fine once strapped into the shuttle.
No turning back then,
he thought.

“You’ve grown so much since that day, Tommy, and I must say, you do look splendid,” Remus said, standing back to admire Tommy’s beautifully tailored Academy uniform, trying hard to keep the mood upbeat.

Tommy looked down at the snug-fitting, slate-gray uniform. It was essentially one piece, although an integrated belt was fastened at his waist with a square golden latch that bore the Star Force symbol of a winged dagger. It also included long tapered trousers, flared slightly where they attached to the lower part of his gloss-black boots, and a black, waist-length, high-collared jacket.

“Thank you, sir,” he said while making yet another adjustment to his invisible waist belt. “I suppose we’ll be loading soon.”

Remus looked down at the boy, sensing his uneasiness. “Yes, anytime now you’ll be on your way to an exciting adventure—one day closer to becoming a pilot, my boy.”

Tommy let his mind go to the imagined snugness of a fighter cockpit, soaring over unseen landscapes—and a life in space.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a broad smile.

“I’m proud of you, Tommy.” Remus extended his hand and placed it over one shoulder. “Your parents…” He hesitated for a moment as if something was stuck in his throat. “Would be—“

Remus looked away. He wanted this to be a happy time. Things at the Academy would be tough enough—of this he was sure.

Tommy was fully aware that any sign of sadness or remorse were, for Tarchein, a very rare thing indeed. Although he did not want to make this moment any more difficult, Tommy turned to the elder statesman, dressed in black diplomatic robes, a red-lined hood pulled back off of his oval head, and gave him a bear hug.

“Well, well, Chairman Remus, please do try and control yourself,” said General Ethos. He was properly attired in the green and burnt-orange colors of the Warrior Corps; his dress uniform replete with colorful decorations and awards.

“Honestly, the way you carry on with these Herfers,” the general continued before glancing down at his son, a first-year named Maco.

It was by no means a common occurrence for any Tarchein to have a son. In fact, having a specific offspring to raise was afforded only to a privileged few. All Tarchein fetuses were formed in incubators housed in large birthing facilities. It was here in these secluded compounds that egg bearers, the female of the Tarchein species, lived—rarely if ever to be seen, even fully veiled, in public. Tarchein childbirth was a regulated, rigidly scrutinized event, based primarily on the needs of the Empire, leaving heirs to be contracted through covenant agreements or genetic threads, if they were known.

Remus stepped forward to confront the general. “Take care, General. I’m not one of your cowering staff members. Don’t count on me to curtsy.”

The use of the word Herfer, an ancient Tarchein beast of burden, was especially offensive to the former viceroy to Earth, a Tarchein who had grown to respect and even love Humans. That said, in defense of the general, the Human trait of hugging or showing any kind of affection was foreign to most Tarchein and was therefore considered quite distasteful.

“How disappointing. As a political minion, I would have thought you would be used to a bowed position by now. And as for your disgraceful carrying on with this Human…”

“I’ll treat my son in any fashion I deem fit!”

“Your son!” The general moved a bit closer and pointed his command baton at the slightly taller Remus, but he was very careful not to touch the statesmen. “Really, why not just simply acquire a pet?”

Tommy tugged at the sleeve of Remus’s robes in an attempt to calm him down, whispering under his breath, “It’s okay, sir.” Not the kind of attention he wanted on his first day.

“Adoption of any species falls under the—“

The general raised one hand, his index finger adorned with an enormous Star Force Academy ring. “Adoption—spare me your legal mutterings, Remus.”

“Chairman Remus, Ethos.”

“Oh yes, lest we forget your title and position as monitor in the endless debates held in the toothless Imperial Patrician Congress.”

“A title given by our beloved Imperial Queen Darvona, General.” Remus emphasized the word general, tilting his large head a little. They both knew that all military commanders ultimately reported and were responsible to the Empress and her royal coven, which wielded power through appointed political leaders.

“You chair a council of old women who cackle over water rights, Remus.”

“Careful, General…”

The heated conversation was soon interrupted by a father and son from the Kallderios system.

“Come now, gentlemen, this is a happy time—a day of beginnings.”

The general looked up at the towering seven-foot-tall alien and his son with disdain. “Why we ever decided to allow aliens into this institution…” Ethos snorted, motioned to the young Cadet Maco, and stomped off into the gathering crowd.