CassaStorm

by Alex J. Cavanaugh

  Mevine appeared surprised before he offered a faint smile. Traces of dirt were still in evidence around his hairline and his uniform was torn at the shoulder. He and his men were alive though, and that was all that mattered to Byron.

  Grasping the arms of his chair, Byron leaned forward. “What do you have for me?”

  Shifting in his seat, Mevine held up his tablet. “We have a piece of the puzzle. After analyzing the transmission from the probe, we believe it evaluated the status of the ten races. It’s also waiting for a response code.”

  “Do we have the code?”

  Mevine’s shoulders drooped. “No, sir. But I think I know exactly why the alien ship ordered eradication.”

  Byron gestured with his hand. “Go on.”

  Dropping his tablet to his lap, Mevine presented a grave face. “It has determined the grand experiment a failure.”

  “A failure?”

  “Think about it, sir. All ten races were seeded and the alien ships remain on their planets. When the Tgrens joined the war, a message was sent and the probe alerted. Based on the involvement and scope of the war, the aliens concluded all experiments a failure. That code is necessary if we are to convince them our situation has changed and we are worth saving.”

  Mevine’s choice of words caught Byron’s attention. “How must it change?”

  “The ten races must end this war.”

  After a long day of fighting and dealing with the ensuing tragedy around him, Mevine’s statement reeked of irony. Byron laughed.

  “Peace? After what we just endured today?”

  “Sir, I know. But for whatever reason, war is an unacceptable element to the race that seeded our planets. Unless we can convince the probe otherwise, and we supply the correct code, it will systematically eliminate all ten races.”

  Byron lowered his chin, his teeth clenched. “What gives them the right?” he said, thinking out loud more than posing a question for Mevine.

  “I guess if we were just an experiment, they feel they can end it when necessary.”

  Those words ignited a fire in Byron and he slammed his hand on the desk. “I don’t know about you, but I am more than just an experiment! And I don’t appreciate anyone sitting in judgment of us. Mevine, if you can spare anyone, find a way to contact this race, either through the probe or by another means.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Mevine, holding his tablet to his chest.

  Byron rose to his feet and leaned against his desk. Annoyed with himself for growing angry, he stared at his personal computer. Almost on cue, the screen flashed a message. Closing his eyes, Byron forced his emotions to subside.

  “Mevine, just do what you can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Byron fixed his science officer with a firm stare. “Glad you are still with us.”

  Rising to his feet, Mevine offered a rare smile. “Thank you. Sir, how is Athee?”

  Byron’s shoulders relaxed. “She’s fully recovered. I’m to retrieve her from medical as soon as we finish.”

  “Sir, don’t let me keep you then.”

  “Send me your findings,” said Byron, scooping his tablet from the desk. “And please tell your mate thank you for watching Bassan all day. I’ll pick him up after I retrieve Athee.”

  Mevine waved his hand, his thin fingers splayed wide. “Sir, it’s no problem. I’m sure Drent enjoyed spending the day with Bassan.”

  “They are unique, aren’t they?”

  The science officer shrugged. “They’re just boys, sir.”

  Byron dismissed Mevine and the sound of the door sliding into place plunged the room into silence. Taking a moment to enjoy the peace, he closed his eyes. Between today’s attack and the approaching probe, he could remain here all night. Byron wanted to see his mate, though–and his son. They deserved a moment of his time.

  We get through this, he thought, moving toward the door, I promise I will spend more time with both of you.

  Chapter Nine

  Byron surveyed the destruction. Two buildings had sustained damage and one leveled to the ground in the housing section. In the distance, he could see activity, but a dark silence hung over this spot. Three Cassans lost their lives here yesterday, including a child. Byron understood death was a real possibility for military personnel, but losing family members was unacceptable.

  You would’ve been safe on Cassa or Harenna, he thought, staring at the charred walls of the nearest building. If we can’t stop that probe though, no place is safe.

  “How many homes were destroyed?” he said, turning to his security officer.

  “Five family units total. The other two are higher up the hill,” Mard answered, pointing toward the mountain. “We lost a row of individual units as well, but no one was in them at the time. Everyone has retrieved their personal belongings and we’ve secured temporary lodgings for those displaced. The buildings officer says they won’t start cleanup just yet.”

  “Cleanup can wait,” said Byron with a wave of his hand. “Right now, focus on preparations for evacuation and maintaining the peace. If we can’t stop the probe, I’ll want this base emptied before it arrives.”

  Mard’s brows came together and he jutted out his chin. “Sir, I don’t believe we have enough ships to carry everyone.”

  Byron kicked aside a stone before taking a step toward the main facility. “Commander Ganter has assured me safe passage aboard the Nacinta for every Cassan on this base. I’ve also requested use of the Doorthmore. The exploration vessel is close enough to assist with evacuations.”

  “Sir, the Nacinta should more than suffice.”

  Stopping in his tracks, Byron turned to face his security officer. “And what of the Tgrens, Officer Mard? Should we leave them here to perish?”

  “No, but sir, we can’t save all of them.”

  His gaze drifting past Mard, Byron scanned the city of Ktren, nestled in the valley beyond the base. Twenty-seven hundred people called it home. There were twenty-four other cities, similar in size, within the allegiance. Outside of that, another estimated fifty thousand Tgrens occupied the planet. Not enough ships in the Cassan fleet existed to carry Tgren’s population. Clasping his hands behind his back, Byron turned to face his senior security officer.

  “Officer Mard,” he said, straightening his back to his full height. “The Tgrens welcomed us to their planet twenty-one years ago. They allowed us to occupy their land and mine for letrellium. We were allowed to explore the alien ship, which resulted in one incident with the probe already. They permitted the construction of a base and the integration of our races. They are our allies and worthy of our protection. The Tgren people deserve a chance at survival elsewhere. I will not deny them that right. We will take enough to ensure the Tgren race survives.”

  Mard’s thick chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

  Satisfied with that answer, Byron resumed walking. The rumble of engines caught his attention. Byron noticed a shuttle approaching the hangar entrance. The prefects were beginning to arrive. He quickened his pace, more determined than ever to produce a plan that would save some of the Tgrens. The prefects would not be happy with his update today. Byron hoped his proposal would provide a small measure of assurance.

  Athee, our guests are arriving, he thought as he entered the main building.

  Just leaving medical, she thought. I’ll be there shortly.

  Turning down a long hall, Byron entered the first room on his left. The empty room was a relief to behold. He needed a few moments to gather his thoughts.

  “Sir, I will attend to the arrival of our guests and return when everyone is in place,” said Mard.

  Byron nodded and his security officer departed. Scanning the large table occupying the center of the room, Byron contemplated his seat. Sitting near the door provided an easy escape when the meeting ended. As tempting as that sounded, he selected the chair on the far side. He wanted to observe each man as he entered. Considering the subject matter of the meeting, placing
his back to any of these men might be a bad idea as well.

  Sliding into the chair, Byron set his computer tablet on the table and checked the two messages that had arrived a few moments ago. The first had to do with provisions for their evacuation. Byron filed it away for later. The second originated from the Doorthmore and he held his breath as he scanned the short message. The exploration vessel had received permission from High Command to assist with the evacuation. They had only a one day window of opportunity though, and the ship would arrive three days ahead of the probe.

  Setting down his computer, Byron pressed his head against the back of the chair. The Doorthmore would depart a day before the Nacinta. With limited shuttles at his disposal, that would work in their favor.

  A noise in the hallway distracted Byron from his thoughts. He noticed Prefect Ubarce standing in the open doorway. Pleased to see the man, Byron rose to his feet.

  “Prefect Ubarce, please come in,” he said, gesturing the younger man forward.

  “I know I’m early, Commander,” said Ubarce, stepping into the room. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “Not at all. I was just gathering my thoughts.”

  Ubarce strode around the table, his narrow frame moving with ease. “I’d heard your base was hit hard yesterday. I saw some of the damage from the shuttle’s cockpit.”

  “Several buildings were damaged or destroyed, including a couple housing units.”

  Pausing by the chair next to Byron, Ubarce’s brows came together in genuine concern. “I am sorry. Officer Athee greeted me upon my arrival and I was pleased to see she’d recovered from her injuries.”

  “We were fortunate it wasn’t a direct disruptor hit.”

  “You’ve experienced it?”

  Byron rested a hand on the back of his chair. “Yes, I have. Many years ago.”

  “During what your people refer to as the Vindicarn War?”

  Caught unaware by the man’s comment, Byron stared at Ubarce in surprise. Until recent events, even Enteller knew nothing about the Cassan’s war with the Vindicarn forty years ago.

  Ubarce offered a knowing smile. “When I became prefect last year, I read up on your past, Commander. I’d already delved into the history of the Cassans, but I wanted to know more about the man who represented your race here on Tgren. I was impressed with your accomplishments during the Vindicarn War, not to mention what transpired here on Tgren twenty years ago.”

  “All part of the job,” Byron said, dismissing the praise with a shake of his head.

  “No, you were willing to sacrifice everything. You see Commander, unlike the other prefects,” said Ubarce, holding up his computer pad, “I know how to use this thing. I know what we’re up against. That is why I am glad you are in charge. And I promise, whatever you decide, whatever you decree, my city and I will stand by you.”

  Dedication was expected from the Cassan ranks, but Byron was unprepared for such allegiance from a Tgren. Honored by Ubarce’s words, Byron offered a faint smile.

  “You should probably wait until you hear what I have to say today,” he said in a gentle voice.

  Ubarce’s eyebrows arched. “Most of us won’t make it.”

  His statement was matter of fact, but it hit Byron hard. Unless stopped, most of the Tgrens would perish when the probe reached this planet. They were the only race without a means of escape, which further fueled Byron’s desire to save as many as possible. They needed to be the brightest Tgren had to offer and most likely to repopulate the species. That included the young prefect standing before Byron. Moving his hand to Ubarce’s shoulder, he stared hard at the prefect.

  You’re right. Most will perish. You and your family need to be prepared to evacuate when I give the word, Byron thought.

  Sir…? thought Ubarce.

  Your people will need a strong leader. One with vision. One who doesn’t fear change. I have every confidence you are that person.

  Ubarce swallowed, his gaze locked on Byron. His eyes held hope and an idealism that anything was possible. Many years had passed since Byron last enjoyed such drive and passion. Ubarce was the perfect leader for his people. The few that would survive anyway.

  Byron raised one eyebrow in skepticism. You did say you would stand by my decision.

  Shoulders relaxing under Byron’s grip, Ubarce offered a wry grin. Yes, I suppose I did.

  Glancing at the open doorway, Byron released his grip. I will not announce it today though. There’s already too much for everyone to absorb.

  Understood, Commander. And thank you.

  The other prefects began to arrive, accompanied by security officers. Byron wondered how Ubarce managed to reach the room without an escort. When his mate appeared, she glanced at Ubarce and smiled. Byron quickly concluded Athee had pointed the man in the right direction. He’d not discussed his plan with his mate, but she had a way of picking up on the smallest ideas in his head. Another Tgren talent that required preservation.

  When the final prefect arrived and Byron confirmed the presence of Officers Hurend and Mard, he called for everyone to take a seat. Giving them a moment to settle, he scanned the room. Agitation and fear were evident on the faces of those gathered, and their thoughts matched the prevailing sense of doom. While all wasn’t lost yet, Byron hoped the negative mood would move his proposition forward.

  Rising to his feet, Byron rested his palms on the table. “Prefects, I thank you for coming. You all received a preliminary report regarding this meeting, so you know the situation is grave. I’m just going to lay it all out on the table. We’ll discuss options when I have finished. Agreed?”

  Everyone either nodded or offered a word of affirmation. Glancing at the display on his computer tablet, Byron took a deep breath before continuing.

  “We’ve confirmed the Torbeth’s home world has been devastated by a planet-wide storm caused by the probe. Unfortunately, we don’t know the exact conditions on the planet or if there are survivors. Our enemies blame the Tgrens and Cassans, claiming we summoned the alien vessel. Despite the attack on Tgren yesterday, the Cassan High Command and our allies are working to establish a truce with our enemies.

  “The probe is now en route to Arell, and our allies are evacuating as quickly as possible. They also plan to make use of their elaborate underground facilities to house their people.”

  Byron hesitated, his eyes dropping to his computer screen. “From there, the ship will move to the Vindicarn’s home world. After that, eleven days from now, the probe will arrive at Tgren.”

  Frantic murmurs erupted around the room. Byron gave the prefects a moment to compose themselves. At least no one was shouting in indignation this time.

  “As you well know, our scientists are working night and day to find a way to stop the vessel. We are even attempting to contact the probe and the alien race that created it. The information we’ve gathered has been shared with our allies, so we are all working toward a solution. If a ceasefire can be reached with our enemies, perhaps we can double those efforts.

  “In the meantime,” said Byron, his fingers pressing hard against the surface of the desk. His stomach churned over the announcement, but he had no choice. “This base is preparing for evacuation aboard the Nacinta. The other two flagships will soon be on their way to Cassa to assist with evacuations to our sister planet, Harenna. The Nacinta will depart two days before the arrival of the probe.”

  The room erupted in protest. Byron lowered his head, shielding his mind against the onslaught of fury and indignation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sensed Athee’s touch. Amidst the anger and confusion, Byron recalled a moment not twenty years past when Tgren faced a similar fate. He could still see Orellen’s face as the former prefect handed Athee over to him for safekeeping, aware that the rest of his people would likely die. Lifting his head, Byron glanced at Ubarce seated beside him. The man’s eyes contained the look of determination and he offered a nod of support. That was all Byron needed.

  “Prefects, I know th
is is difficult,” he said, raising his voice over the angry protests.

  The room fell silent. Byron pushed away from the table and stretched to his full height.

  “I have secured the exploration ship Doorthmore for evacuations. It will arrive three days before the probe and can carry an additional two hundred people.”

  “Two hundred?” someone shouted. “That’s it?”

  “Two hundred aboard the Doorthmore!” Byron said, retaliating with his mental voice as well. “Another hundred and twenty aboard the Nacinta. If I can convince High Command to allow just one other flagship to remain, that will be another six hundred plus. And five thousand or more can take refuge in the alien ship as well.”

  “How long could we survive in there?” said Enteller, his lips pulled back in a sneer.

  “The alien ship is fully functional with its own life support. Sealed from the inside and protected by the mountain, you’ll easily survive a year or more if need be.”

  “But what about the others? We just leave them on the surface to die?” an older man asked.

  “Your planet has several extensive caverns,” replied Byron, aware it was a poor alternative. “They might provide enough protection if the storm is short-lived.”

  “What about those across the great lake?” said a prefect at the far end of the table.

  “They won’t listen,” another prefect growled.

  Anchore slammed his fist on the table. “After they attacked us years ago? I say let them die.”

  “But they are Tgrens,” said Ubarce, leaning forward in earnest.

  “We will send ships to warn them,” Byron said in a loud voice before an argument started. “Just as we have warned our enemies.”

  Enteller guffawed, his lips pulled back in disgust. “After what they did yesterday?”

  “Prefects, I would like nothing more than to see the Vindicarn numbers reduced,” said Byron, his gaze meeting Athee’s for a moment. “However, we need every race working on a solution, which is why we are asking for a ceasefire.”

  “If the war activated the probe, will the ship stop if a ceasefire is declared?” said Ubarce, eyes wide with hope.