CassaStar (20 page)

He’d done everything within his power. It was all up to Byron now.

Rising with a headache after a restless night, Byron could not seem to get moving the next morning. He arrived late for the morning meal and received the last scraps of food in the pans. Eyeing his cold and overdone meal with disdain, he staggered toward the tables. Scanning the remaining occupants of the room, Byron noticed Ernx and Nintal at the far end of the hall. Bassa was nowhere to be seen, so Byron sought the company of his new friends.

“
Morning!” Ernx cried, greeting him with an enthusiastic but sleepy grin.

“
Morning,” Byron replied, dropping into his seat. Dumping his tray on the table, he reached for his fork.

Nintal leaned away from the table and stretched. “Glad we have the day off. I couldn’t have flown today to save my life.”

“
Me neither,” admitted Byron, poking at his food. “Seen Bassa this morning?” he asked in a nonchalant tone.

“
No, but we arrived late,” replied Ernx.

Byron managed to choke down half his food before the smell became too nauseating. The camaraderie of his friends as they chatted unsettled him, as he did not share a similar relationship with his partner. Excusing himself at the first opportune moment, Byron retreated from the dining hall. He hesitated as he passed Bassa’s quarters, aware that his navigator awaited his response. That conversation required a clear head, though, and Byron continued to his quarters.

He straightened his living space before checking for new messages. Trindel was the only person who ever sent messages and the last note from his friend had arrived two days ago. Feeling cut off from the outside world and yearning for a word of encouragement, he reread Trindel’s previous messages. His friend sounded so content with his transporter training, passing along several amusing stories regarding the differences between shuttle and fighter ship. Byron could hear his friend’s jovial tone as he read and missed Trindel’s lighthearted outlook on life.

Reading in reverse order, he soon found himself scanning the very first message. Byron had informed Trindel of his new navigator, and Trindel’s reply was quite amusing. The final line caught his eye and he read it twice, pondering the implication. Trindel had ended his message with a comment that Bassa must’ve seen something special in him. Byron stared at those words for several moments.

As if a switch were thrown, his mind reached a decision. Rising from his desk, Byron exited his quarters. He came to an abrupt halt outside Bassa’s door and eyed the press plate with trepidation. Straightening his shoulders, he waved his hand over the sensor. There was no reply.

Perplexed, it dawned on Byron that he’d no idea what Bassa did with his free time. He couldn’t begin to imagine where to search first. Returning to his quarters, he requested the whereabouts of Bassa. The ship’s computer indicated his navigator currently occupied the hydroponics bay.

That’s an odd place to hang out, he thought.

His curiosity overrode anxiety and he plotted a path to reach the hydroponics bay. He recalled seeing the ship’s eco-terrarium during his exploration of the Sorenthia when he’d first arrived, but never felt a desire to return. Using the telepod, he traveled to the appropriate level and approached the hydroponics bay. The double glass doors slid open and he entered the facility.

A large percentage of the eco-terrarium was devoted to food crops. Those areas were restricted and required an escort. It was the other portion of the facility, a garden created for both oxygen production and recreation, that Byron focused his attention. At some point along the winding trails, he hoped to locate his missing navigator.

The air was ripe with a thousand exotic scents, all vying for his attention. Byron tried to ignore the overwhelming aroma of plants and flowers as he traversed the path, but it tickled his nose. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a sharp contrast to the ship’s customary smells. He wondered why Bassa would seek the company of foliage when he obviously possessed many friends and admirers on the Sorenthia. Once again, he was reminded how little he knew about his navigator.

Rounding a corner, Byron caught sight of Bassa sitting on a bench, his computer pad in his lap. He slowed his rapid pace, now hesitant to approach the man. Bassa looked up from his screen and noticed Byron’s presence. He nodded and gestured for the pilot to approach.

“
Morning,” he offered as Byron took a seat at the other end of the bench.

“
Morning. I’ve been trying to locate you.”

“
I’m sorry,” said Bassa, stretching his arm across the back of the bench. “I come here sometimes to work.”

Byron glanced at the colorful foliage, most of which appeared foreign. “You like exotic plants?”

“
It’s peaceful,” Bassa explained. “I like this part of the garden, with its alien flowers and vines. I’d originally wanted to navigate an exploration vessel and view this type of scenery in its natural habitat.”

“
Really?” exclaimed Byron, surprised by the divergent vocation. “You didn’t want to navigate a Cosbolt?”

“
Exploring space was my first love. I scored so well in initial tests that a different path was suggested, though.”

“
Oh,” Byron answered, at a loss for words. He couldn’t imagine Bassa navigating an exploration vessel.

“
I believe you once told me that piloting a Cosbolt was not your first choice, either.”

“
No,” he admitted. “I guess the aptitude tests affected my decision as well.”

Byron shifted his position on the bench. Dropping his gaze to the path at his feet, he attempted to quell his growing anxiety. Bassa knew why he was there. If Byron didn’t speak soon, he’d lose the nerve.

“
I thought about what you said last night, and I’ve made my decision.”

He’d tried to sound calm and collected, but his voice faltered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bassa raise his eyebrows. Feeling vulnerable, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

“
I want us to remain a team,” he announced.

His thoughts out in the open, Byron glanced at Bassa. His navigator appeared skeptical of his decision, but Byron sensed relief in the man’s thoughts.

“
If that’s what you really want,” Bassa offered, his voice gentle.

Byron nodded. “Yes.”

Setting his computer pad on the bench, Bassa leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’d prefer to stay here as well,” he stated.

Bassa’s serious expression caused Byron to look away. He nodded again, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

“
Can I ask why?” inquired Bassa.

Suppressing the thoughts and emotions that arose in his mind, Byron clenched his fists even tighter. “Well, I’d be an idiot to discard a navigator of your caliber,” he explained, hoping that answer would suffice.

Sensing his navigator’s touch on his mind, Byron tightened his shields out of habit. Opening his mind always felt uncomfortable; a result of invasive probes from analysts and instructors when he was a child.

You need to trust me, Byron.

Bassa’s sincere entreaty caused Byron to relax his shields. If they were to work together as a team, a certain level of confidence and trust was required. He might resist, but Byron needed that bond to fly the ship.

“
I’m not very good at making friends, either,” he conceded. “I could probably use one.”

“
I am your friend, Byron.”

Mustering courage he did not feel, Byron turned to his navigator. Bassa’s smile was genuine, as was the feeling of acceptance that drifted into Byron’s senses. It still puzzled him that the man wanted to be his friend. Byron didn’t feel likeable in any sense of the word. He’d resisted Bassa’s attempts to foster a friendship outside of the cockpit almost to the point of open hostility. His opposition stemmed from more than a reluctance to connect. Byron feared he would fail miserably as a friend.

Bassa’s expression softened and his thoughts revealed compassion. Byron suddenly noticed the transparency of his own feelings. Alarmed, he closed his mind.

With a sigh, Bassa leaned back. “It’s okay to open up every now and then. That’s what friends are for.”

Byron couldn’t think of a suitable reply, but Bassa didn’t seem to expect one. Stretching his back, the senior officer picked up his computer pad.

“
So, what are your plans for your day off?” he asked.

“
I was going to hit the courts before the midday meal.” An idea occurred to Byron. “Do you play gravball?”

Bassa arched one eyebrow. “Feel like losing?”

“
Do you?”

“
You’re on then!”

Byron rose to his feet, a genuine grin on his face. However, his elation went beyond the chance to play against an opponent. The prospect of a real friend held more meaning and satisfaction.

Chapter Ten

30.75 degrees!

Byron altered his course as instructed, his eye on the drone. Another fighter flew over their ship in pursuit of a separate drone, but he paid it no heed. Their target had begun to dive and he followed with all intensity.

Quadrant 749, incoming!

The drone continued on its path, but Byron was forced to pull up as a Cosbolt emerged from a jump. The split second was all the drone required and it accelerated to top speed.

Jumping, Quadrant 681!
Byron announced.

Bassa relayed their intentions. The announcement consumed less than a second and Byron jumped before the thought vanished from his mind. Reappearing a few lengths behind the drone, he reduced speed and fired. The green light registered another direct hit.

That’s three today!
he cried, banking left.

We’re on a roll,
observed Bassa, calculating their next course of action.

Ever since Byron’s complete acceptance of Bassa’s place as his navigator, their performance in the cockpit had shown vast improvement. As promised, Bassa now trusted his judgment, permitting Byron the freedom to exercise his ability as a pilot. In return, Byron no longer balked when his navigator suggested a different tactic or approach. It was still a struggle to permit Bassa full access to his mind, but Byron felt he was making progress in that area as well. He couldn’t deny the results when they did connect and wanted the trend to continue.

One drone remaining,
Bassa announced.
Hannar’s on it.

Damn! I was hoping for one more.

Share the glory,
Bassa answered, a hint of humor in his tone.

Once the final drone was neutralized, they returned to the Sorenthia and joined their squadron in the debriefing room. When every man was present, Larnth began to cover the day’s exercise.

“
Good flying, everyone. All drones neutralized within reasonable time and no Cosbolt losses. The squadron has adapted well to the changes in programming, which seem to simulate the Vindicarn’s flight patterns with a bit more accuracy. There were numerous multiple kills today, including three by Byron and Bassa’s team. Good job, men.

“
Now, a couple items we need to work on …”

Byron listened, but it was difficult to focus on Larnth’s words. That was the third time this week he and Bassa had scored the most kills. The other officers might still resent a rookie in their squadron, but they couldn’t deny the figures his team was posting. Those stats did not lie.

“
For the last bit of news,” Larnth announced, his words cutting into Byron’s thoughts. “We are proceeding to a new location this afternoon, so tomorrow’s drills will take place in the simulator.”

There were scattered groans throughout the room. One look from the squadron leader silenced the protests.

“
Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that we’ll be stopping at Spaceport 89 en route,” he chastised.

That announcement brought a round of cheers. Larnth permitted a reserved smile to cross his face as he viewed the men’s reaction.