CassaFire (3 page)

Byron shook his head, amused by the young man’s eagerness. He suspected they would find Mevine this evening draped over a workstation in a heap and unconscious from exhaustion. However, the diversion was well timed. Mevine’s focus now resided on his work rather than Byron’s past glories.

Before the evening meal, Byron visited the ship’s grav court. He’d delayed his daily regiment to coincide with the Rennather’s jump. He longed for privacy and hoped to find the court empty this time of day.

Better not be occupied, he thought. I’m in no mood for competition tonight.

Noting the green light above the press plate, he entered the court and sealed the door. A slight change in pressure signified a reduction in gravity. Byron shifted his feet, allowing his body to adjust. The alteration was minor, scarcely affecting his movement. He was still able to put a fierce spin on the ball, though.

Grasping the racket, he squared his shoulders in preparation. Clasping the ball, Byron hesitated before dropping it to the floor. Striking the surface, it sprang into the air and hovered near the release point. Before the ball could drop, he snatched it out of the air. Pivoting his body, Byron raised his racket. He tossed the ball toward the tall ceiling. With a resounding whack, his racket connected with the small object, and the ball shot toward the far wall.

Byron raced from one side of the court to the other, challenging his skills with difficult volleys. Because of the size of the court, which was hardly large enough to house a Cosbolt, he felt the temperature rise as his body generated heat from his exertions. Sweat poured from his skin, running unchecked down his arms and legs, soaking his clothes. Byron paused several times to wipe his brow, pushing the damp hair away from his face. He’d forgotten a towel, but this far into his session it wasn’t worth the effort to retrieve one from his quarters. Certainly not with the ship’s jump approaching.

A wild shot sent the ball out of reach. Pausing to catch his breath, a familiar hum echoed within the depths of his mind. Staggering back toward the wall, Byron slid to the floor, still clutching the racket. Resting his head against the wall, he took a deep breath and cleared his mind. The hum had increased in strength; it vibrated down his spine, causing his nerves to tingle. Closing his eyes, Byron focused on the intoxicating sensation of the ship’s teleporter as it prepared for the jump.

His mental abilities had grown in strength over the years. In addition to his unique capacity to channel his own power into a ship’s teleporter, he was now more aware of psychic emissions from all sources. Byron sensed the Rennather’s pilot as the man tapped into the device to perform the jump. Concentrating on the teleporter, he felt the connection of man and machine as the pilot locked onto new coordinates. Even through lidded eyes, the room’s lights vanished, enveloped by darkness as the ship jumped. The teleporter’s power at its peak, he felt the surge of energy as the ship transferred to a new point in space.

The process complete, the device’s discharge began to fade. Byron dropped his chin to his chest, his eyes still closed. Had he chosen to pilot an exploration ship, he would’ve performed the jump instead. On occasion, he assisted with multiple jumps, but the Rennather was not his responsibility. He preferred the mobility of the smaller ships. Certified on five different models, including the Darten, his skills were in high demand. Coupled with his unique ability to jump, not to mention accomplishments as a Cosbolt pilot, Byron had his choice of any ship in the fleet. He’d chosen to remain here.

Flexing his muscles, he pulled himself upright and reached for the ball. The door panel chirped, breaking into his thoughts. Byron scowled, annoyed by the interruption. Only a dimwit would miss the red light that signified the court was in use. Normal gravity resumed and the door slid aside. Byron assumed an authoritative pose, prepared to take the intruder to task for not observing court protocol. A young man entered the room, his head down. At once Byron recognized the gangly figure. He cleared his throat, hoping the noise would alert the intruder of the court’s original occupant. The lad looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.

“
Officer Byron, my apologies!” Mevine stammered, rocking hard on his heels. “In my haste, I didn’t notice the court was occupied. Forgive me for interrupting your game.”

By all rights, Byron should’ve scolded him, but Mevine’s unshielded embarrassment made Byron assume a less threatening pose. “I thought you were holed up in the lab.”

“
Yes sir, I’ve been there all day,” Mevine replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The movement caused his unkempt hair to bob in rhythm, the curls swinging across his forehead.

“
I understand you were in the lab all night, too.”

Mevine ceased his nervous movements. “Yes, sir. But I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Thought some exercise would rouse me. I’d assumed the court would be empty at this hour. I’m sorry I interrupted you, sir.”

The quaver in his voice tugged at the pilot’s sense of compassion. Byron could not miss Mevine’s red eyes or drooping posture, and the final traces of his irritation disappeared. Considering the boy’s exhaustion, Byron could forgive an honest mistake. It had not interrupted his connection with the teleporter, either. Now that the moment had passed, Byron felt less reclusive. Besides, Mevine’s presence provided an opportunity for a little competition.

Bouncing the ball once, Byron narrowed his eyes. “Well, as long as you’re here, you may as well lose a couple games.”

Straightening his back, Mevine’s face broke into a smile. “Sir, I’d be honored to play a round with you.”

Despite his fatigue, Mevine proved adept at grav ball. Byron relished the challenge. Pleased with the situation, he stepped up his game to match Mevine’s strategic hits. Experience prevailed, leaving both men gasping for breath and exhausted.

“
Not bad,” Byron offered as he retrieved the ball before it rolled to the far end of the court.

“
Been a few months since I played,” said Mevine, rubbing his sleeve across his brow.

“
We’ll have to play when you’re not rusty then.”

The boy nodded, brushing the damp locks away from his face. Curls sticking straight out, his face reflected a youth beyond his years. Did I appear as immature and young when I entered active duty? Byron wondered.

“
And sir?” Mevine asked, his brows furrowed. “I’m sorry if I offended you last night.”

Byron adjusted the racket in his hand. “Don’t worry about it. And we’re off duty, so you can drop the sir.”

“
Yes…” Mevine replied, his voice trailing off before finishing the phrase. “I’m sorry, it’s just such an honor to meet you. Your part in the Vindicarn War is legend.”

Mevine’s observation sent a ripple of regret through Byron. “I’m just a pilot,” he muttered. “Besides, that was years ago.”

And I’m not in the mood for adoration, he thought. Byron certainly didn’t want his past accomplishments drawing attention to his current situation. Not wanting to hear more, he strode past the young man with a purpose. Mevine’s next words caused him to pause.

“
I almost became a fighter pilot because of you.”

He turned to cast Mevine a skeptical look. “You think flying a Cosbolt is the path to glory? That facing death is what it takes to succeed?”

Mevine’s shoulders drooped, matching the grimace on his face. “At least I’d have a chance to do something brave and prove myself.”

A wave of dejection rolled unchecked from his thoughts. Byron sensed a desire to please and live up to expectations. Who in Mevine’s life had placed such a heavy burden on the young man?

Lowering his racket to his side, Byron approached Mevine. The lad met his gaze, his eyes brimming with resignation as he awaited the older man’s next words. Mustering patience he did not feel, Byron shifted the grav ball to his other hand. He touched Mevine’s shoulder.

“
Don’t be so eager to throw yourself into the face of danger. It’s a greater sacrifice than you’d ever imagine.”

Mevine’s thoughts remained in turmoil, but he offered a curt nod. Byron patted his shoulder.

“
Besides, who says you won’t do something heroic on Tgren?” Byron offered. “You might just be the one who cracks the alien code and unlocks a great discovery.”

Mevine smiled. A renewed sense of purpose colored his thoughts, although not enough to hide all traces of dejection. It was enough to put Byron at ease, and his muscles unknotted. He gestured toward the door.

“
Go get something to eat,” he ordered. “And I’d recommend a shower or your fellow officers might refuse you entry to the lab.”

“
Men, I can’t stress the gravity of the situation enough. I want everyone on their toes when we reach Tgren.”

“
Yes, sir!” all voices clamored.

Commander Korden leaned forward, his knuckles pressing hard against the surface of his desk. Byron and the other senior officers stood at attention as they received final briefing on their new assignment. Exploration carried many risks, but Byron sensed far more was at stake than just the lives of those aboard the Rennather.

“
Despite the enthusiasm of our science crew,” Korden drawled, his gaze passing over Officer Seheller, “I want us to take every precaution. The alien technology on Tgren could be benign in nature, but it could also be a weapon. Until we’ve assessed the situation and confirmed its purpose, I am treating it as a threat. Understood?”

“
Yes, sir.”

Glancing at his computer screen, Korden punched the keypad with force. “Complicating matters is our current relationship with the Tgrens. Their initial gratitude toward our presence has waned with our refusal to share more in the areas of communication and transportation until their own technology advances. Since their planet boasts a large supply of the chemical compounds required to manufacture our teleportation devices, we’ve done our best to pacify the Tgrens by offering training for their pilots. That gesture will continue while we are present.”

The commander’s eyes fell on his senior pilot. Byron nodded in acceptance of his expected duties while on Tgren even as he cringed inside. Training a group of primitives who’d only recently taken to the sky sounded tedious at best. He hoped they possessed at least a basic understanding of aerodynamics.

Straightening his posture, Korden glanced again at his computer screen and raised an eyebrow. “After recent testing of the citizens of Ktren, the city closest to the ruins, it was discovered that the Tgrens possess minor mental abilities as well.”

Byron managed to suppress his surprise as a wave of astonishment filtered through the room. Korden frowned, his thick brows forming a grimace far more imposing than his lips.

“
The Tgrens have not welcomed this discovery with enthusiasm. They view our telepathy and ability to teleport with caution, claiming it unnatural.”

Officer Narunva gasped. “But they wanted advancements in communication…” he protested.

“
You think they’d be grateful,” another officer added.

“
Well, it’s up to us to convince them otherwise,” Korden said. “Remember, we can only push so far. We cannot cause relations to crumble into disrepair. While on Tgren, we are all ambassadors of Cassa. Understood?”

Byron joined the others in affirmation. Korden punched another key.

“
We’ve also had reports of rogue ships in the area,” he said. “These multi-race raiders are to be treated as hostile. They have not bothered the Tgrens, but the last Cassan ship to visit this system was attacked by a small band of fighters. Officer Byron, you and Garnce are to remain on alert. These rogues recently captured one of our neighbors’ ships, but the Zerrens were able to track down the raiders and retrieve their vessel. I want to avoid a similar incident. We’ve enough to deal with on the planet’s surface.”

With that, the commander dismissed the room. Before he could depart, Korden’s thoughts reached his mind.

Officer Byron, remain
.

Stepping aside, Byron turned to face the commander. The door closed behind the last officer and he stood at attention, expecting an even stricter warning from Korden regarding his behavior on Tgren. The men had served together for many years and Byron’s tricks were no secret to the commander. The pilot doubted those ploys would be tolerated on Tgren. If relations were strained, he needed to remain on his best behavior.

“
You will be pulling double duty on this assignment,” Korden announced, sinking into his chair.

Puzzled by the lack of reprimand or warning, Byron stared at the commander. “Sir?”

Leaning back in the padded chair, Korden scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. Byron could sense nothing in the commander’s thoughts, although he did not press past the mental shields. However, humor tugged at Korden’s lips. The man liked to toy with his senior pilot.

“
In addition to pilot training, which will be restricted to their best men I assure you, I want you to assist the current psychic technician on the planet. Officer Illenth has only tested a small percentage of the men thus far, but the Tgrens possess great potential.”

Korden leaned forward, his frame causing the chair to creak in protest. “At all times, I want you listening for those with potential mental abilities. Report your findings to Officer Illenth. And if anyone displays exceptionally strong powers, I want to know about it. Understood?”