CassaStorm

by Alex J. Cavanaugh

  You better protect my son, he thought. I’m not losing him to the Vindicarn as well.

  Keeping his promise, he escorted Bassan down to the hangar first. His son glanced once at the Cosbolts, but the size of the room held his interest more. Byron let him gawk in wonder at the ceiling, amused by Bassan’s amazement. So many years had passed since Byron had set foot on a flagship. The delight bubbling from Bassan’s mind reminded him of that first day on the Sorenthia. He wasn’t sure if the memory made him feel younger or older, but it did wipe the conversation with the Rogue from his mind.

  “Come on,” Byron said, leading Bassan out of the hangar. “I have something special to show you.”

  He located the hydroponics bay and entered the facility with mixed feelings. Byron’s last experience resided deep in his past. Today would stir those memories, drawing the ache of loss to the surface. However, he wanted Bassan to see the place that had meant so much to Bassa. Experiencing it with his son would bring the connection full circle and attach a sense of joy to the place.

  As long as we survive tomorrow, he thought.

  A gasp from Bassan brought him back to the present. Grinning at the wide-eyed expression, Byron patted his shoulder.

  “This is the hydroponics bay,” he said.

  Steering his son through another set of doors, Byron guided him into the main gardens. The air hung thicker in this section, loaded with fresh oxygen and the fragrance of hundreds of flora varieties. He’d forgotten about the heavy scents and rubbed his nose.

  “Look at all the plants!” said Bassan.

  He scampered ahead and paused under a giant bush. Byron’s son stared up at the leaves as they waved under a faint artificial breeze. The purple fronds led down to a stalk so dark it appeared black at the point where it oozed into the ground.

  “Those leaves are bigger than you,” said Byron as he joined him.

  Reaching up with his fingers, Bassan strained to touch the lowest leaf. Byron suspected the plants weren’t to be touched. However, growing up on a desert planet his son had never seen such rich foliage. This might be his only opportunity.

  Grasping the stalk, Byron bent it with care. The shiny leaf came within reach and Bassan clasped it between his hands.

  “It feels like plastic,” he announced. Bassan glanced up, brows together. “We don’t have anything like this on Tgren.”

  “No, the plants in this area are all from Cassa and Harenna.”

  Bassan turned around and gazed at the dense foliage filling the room. The frond slowly slipped from his hands as he took a step forward. Releasing the stalk, Byron followed Bassan to the next marvel of the plant kingdom.

  He hadn’t anticipated a biology lesson, but his son asked endless questions. To his relief, they moved at a casual pace through the gardens. Twice they passed others enjoying the scenery, but for the most part, it was just the two of them. Byron couldn’t recall the last time he’d shared an afternoon with his son. His duties kept him occupied and away from his family more than he cared to admit.

  One way or another, that’s going to change, he thought.

  They entered a section housing plants from other planets. The splash of color was more vivid than the Tgren sun setting across the desert floor. Bassan continued to ask about the strange foliage. Byron was surprised he remembered so much from his days of exploration. Those missions resided far in the past now.

  They rounded a corner and Byron’s eyes fell on a familiar sight. Bassan darted past the secluded bench and Byron called him back. Grinning from ear to ear, his son dropped onto the bench and swung his legs. Byron took a seat and stretched an arm across the back.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he said, well aware of the answer.

  “Yes, sir!” Bassan said, his legs still swinging.

  “You know,” said Byron, glancing around. “It’s been forty years since I set foot in a hydroponics bay.”

  Head swiveling to stare at Byron, Bassan’s mouth dropped open. “That long ago?” he said, his lips struggling to form the words.

  Byron offered a friendly sneer. “Yes, that long ago!”

  Bassan laughed and Byron bopped the back of his head with his fingers. His son leaned out of reach, still giggling. Byron let him wind down, mulling over what he wanted to say next.

  “I used to visit this facility in the company of someone else who meant a lot to me,” he said, the memories of his navigator coming into focus.

  “Who?” said Bassan.

  Leaning closer, Byron gazed at his son’s face. “Bassa enjoyed coming here. This was probably his favorite place on the ship.”

  Bassan scanned their surroundings for a moment before his attention returned to Byron.

  “He liked plants?”

  “Bassa liked this section best,” said Byron, recalling his friend’s affinity for the foreign foliage. “He always wanted to go into exploration and see the worlds containing these plants for himself.”

  Bassan’s smiled drooped. “But he didn’t get to, did he?”

  “No,” said Byron, shaking his head. “We’d made plans to go into exploration when the war ended, but he died before that happened.”

  Hands moving to his lap, Bassan kicked his legs one more time. His brow furrowed and he grew very still. Byron waited, curious. His son lifted his chin and gazed at Byron.

  “Is that why you named me after him?”

  Brushing the hair away from his son’s eyes, Byron smiled. “Yes. I wanted his memory to live on. He was…”

  Byron faltered. How could he articulate what Bassa had meant to him? Only Athee knew the depths of Bassa’s influence. Could he convey that to his son? Would Bassan understand? Digging deep for his response, Byron closed his eyes and lowered his head.

  “Bassa was the first person who ever believed in me,” he said, his mouth growing dry. “He sacrificed everything to become my navigator, including his life. He was my brother and closest friend.”

  Opening his eyes, Byron discovered his son watching with great interest. Smiling to lessen the gravity of his words, he stroked Bassan’s hair.

  “That is why no matter what happens tomorrow night, I promise you will be all right. I believe in you, and I will get you home to your mother.”

  Bassan didn’t respond at first. Byron stroked his hair one more time, letting his love for his son flow freely from his mind. Suddenly, Bassan lunged forward and hugged him. Byron held him close, relieved he’d not lost his son to the new forces that pulled at their lives.

  Breaking free, Bassan stuck out his chest and smiled with pride. “Then when I have a son, I’m naming him after you!”

  His chest tightened. Byron had missed so much of Bassan’s life–years he wished he could regain. That his son still thought so much of his father amazed him. Byron didn’t deserve credit for the endless hours Athee had poured into their son’s upbringing. He didn’t even feel worthy enough to be called a father. At a loss for words, Byron hugged his son again.

  When Bassan grew restless, he released him. Patting his shoulder, Byron offered an affectionate smile.

  “I know you want to discover who you are,” he said, “but I already know.”

  His son cocked his head. “Who am I?”

  “You are my son. And you are destined for great things.”

  Bassan ducked his head and leaned against Byron. The joy that poured from his son eclipsed all of the struggles of the past few weeks. Byron experienced a peace he’d not known in years.

  Tomorrow night will be your moment to shine, he thought. And I will make damned sure you live to enjoy it.

  The Vindicarn’s home world loomed large from the bridge. The red swirls bled into swaths of pale green, bordered by patches of blue. Their world was even more acrid and harsh than Tgren, with seasons of heavy rain offset by seasons of extreme drought. It was not an inviting world. Why the ancient race had chosen this forsaken planet was beyond Byron.

  Suppressing his deep-seated hatred for the Vindicarn, Byron turned his
attention to the communications screen. Beside him, Bassan shifted his feet. Raising his hand, Byron draped his arm around his son’s shoulders. The action wasn’t proper or in line with regulation, but reassuring his son rated higher than impressing the Vindicarn leader.

  “Five warships now, sir,” an officer called.

  Commander Wraint leaned against the display panel and shook his head. “They should be focused on evacuating their people, not us.”

  Snapping to attention, Wraint gazed at the communications screen. The Vindicarn had yet to make official contact with the flagship. While Byron expected some resistance, the aggressive behavior of their longtime enemies bordered on excessive. The Litheron was expected, as was the code she carried. They were not here to attack. They had come to save the Vindicarn.

  “Be ready to jump,” Commander Wraint said. “But safe of all the weapons. Let’s show them we are on a mission of peace.”

  The communications screen came to life. Cherzta’s face filled the screen, his deep scowl adding to the wrinkles on his face. Thoughts of the Rogue flitted through Byron’s mind and he squelched the idea. Piten’s resemblance to this man resided only in their skin.

  “Identify yourself,” said Cherzta, his tone threatening.

  “I am Commander Wraint, of the Cassan flagship Litheron. We are here to transfer three personnel.”

  “We only require the one possessing the code,” said Cherzta.

  Byron’s chest tightened and it was all he could do not to respond. He refused to let his son go down to the surface without him.

  “Cherzta, our request includes the father of the one possessing the code,” said Wraint, “and a liaison.”

  The Vindicarn scowled and scanned the room. “I want to see those who require access to the alien ship.”

  “The liaison isn’t present,” Wraint said. He gestured to Byron. “This is Commander Byron and his son, Bassan.”

  Recognition flashed in Cherzta’s eyes. “Yes, you were present at the conference.”

  Byron nodded, not ready to trust his voice yet. The man was difficult enough without further aggravating him with an insolent tone.

  “Why is the liaison not present?”

  “He is resting in his quarters,” said Commander Wraint.

  Drawing closer to the screen, Cherzta’s forehead wrinkled even more. “If this is a trick, we won’t hesitate to open fire.”

  “Sir, this is no trick,” said Wraint, raising his voice. “We want what you want. To stop the probe.”

  Beside Byron, his son fidgeted. He squeezed Bassan’s shoulder and the boy pressed closer to his side. If Bassan was scared now, just wait until they were surrounded by Vindicarn.

  Damn, I wish there was another way, thought Byron.

  “The probe doesn’t arrive for three more hours,” said Cherzta, shifting gears. “We will send instructions for the transport of three passengers to the surface in due time.”

  The screen went black. A collective sigh echoed through the room, which Byron seconded. Dealing with Cherzta was uncomfortable and downright aggravating.

  “You should get some rest,” said Wraint.

  Byron started to shake his head and then considered Bassan. He might not sleep after that exchange, but his son needed to be fresh for tonight.

  “We’ll report back in two hours,” said Byron.

  Bassan didn’t speak as they exited the bridge. Anxiety pulsated from his mind, each beat in sync with a rapid heartbeat. Byron kept his arm around his son’s shoulder until they entered the telepod.

  Don’t be scared, he thought.

  Small fingers touched his palm as Bassan slipped a hand into his. Byron gave his son’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  Bassan, despite the order from High Command, I’ll not force you to do this. I want the decision to go down to the surface and enter the code to be yours, understand?

  When there was no response, Byron glanced down at his son. Bassan stared at him, mouth open wide.

  But if I don’t, everyone will die, thought Bassan. I don’t want that to happen to any of the races.

  Said with conviction, Bassan’s words wrapped tight around Byron’s heart. And I’ll be with you. We’ll do it together, all right?

  His son nodded and gripped Byron’s hand even harder. He returned Bassan’s grasp, the palm of his hand growing sweaty.

  And I’ll die before letting anyone harm you, Byron thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They entered the hangar with Commander Wraint. The noise level had increased since their arrival and Byron glanced around the vast room. The hangar buzzed with activity as every Cosbolt team prepared their ship. With five Vindicarn warships outside however, Byron doubted the squadrons would be much help.

  “Cherzta insisted no one else was to come to the surface with you,” said Wraint, his pace brisk. “I’ve placed a security officer in the co-pilot’s seat, but that’s the best I can do.”

  “Once we’re on the surface, it won’t matter how many are with us. Besides, the fewer people involved, the fewer chances for mistakes,” said Byron.

  They reached the shuttle, its hatch open and waiting. Byron paused and glanced at Bassan. His son looked up, his hair obscuring one eye. Brushing aside the lock, Byron patted him on the head and turned to Wraint.

  Just be sure the two of you come back in one piece, the commander thought. I’m not losing a Cassan hero.

  If there’s trouble, don’t worry about us. Jump the Litheron to a safe location.

  Wraint’s eyes widened. And leave you behind?

  If we can get back to the shuttle, I can jump us to safety.

  Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

  Byron noticed Piten approaching, flanked by several security officers. Pressing his hand against Bassan’s back, he urged his son up the ramp. They were fastened in their harnesses by the time the Rogue took a seat opposite them.

  “Hello Bassan, Byron,” Piten said, reaching for his harness.

  Byron noticed one security officer remained in the main cabin. “He’s fine,” Byron said, gesturing the man away.

  The officer closed the hatch and entered the cockpit. Byron pressed his head back against the seat and reached out for his mate.

  Athee, we are preparing for departure.

  We are ready on this end, she thought. Prefect Ubarce is in place. Mevine is in contact with the Arellens, who are coordinating with all the races.

  Where are you?

  Here at the alien ruins.

  Good. I want to confirm our timing with Mevine.

  Byron? she thought, her mental voice growing shaky. You take care of my baby. Please, I can’t lose either of you.

  He closed his eyes against the anguish in her tone. Nothing will happen to Bassan. We’ll return in just a couple days. And I know you’ll be listening. Just please don’t say anything unless necessary. It’s going to take every ounce of my concentration to ensure everything goes as planned.

  I won’t. Her reply was just above a whisper.

  Athee…

  She started to slip away from him. Byron held fast to their connection. If something went wrong, he didn’t want their final conversation to end in such a manner.

  Athee, I love you. I’ve treasured our years together. You gave my life such meaning.

  Byron! she thought with a gasp.

  Aware that his choice of words had upset his mate, Byron changed his tactic. When we return, there will be some changes. I’m going to spend more time with you and Bassan. If I have to resign to do it, so be it. But I want to enjoy my family more often. I’ve missed too much of Bassan’s life already.

  He paused and waited. Byron sensed Athee was crying, but happiness flavored her tears rather than misery. At that moment, his mate’s bond bound them tighter than at any other time.

  Athee, we’re taking off, he thought, the shudder of the ship lifting into the air running down his spine.

  I love you! she thought. Please tell Bassan how much I love h
im.

  I will.

  She faded from his mind. Byron opened his eyes and glanced at Bassan. Your mother says she loves you.

  His son managed a weak smile. The shuttle’s movement ceased and Bassan grasped his harness tighter. Byron patted his son’s knee. His gaze shifted to Piten, who stared at him with curious eyes.

  “You were speaking to someone far off,” the Rogue observed.

  “My mate,” said Byron, unwilling to reveal more of the conversation.

  “Must be nice.”

  The previous day’s conversation returned to Byron. “You can’t hear your mate?”

  Piten shook his head. “She has too much Arellen in her. Bonding isn’t one of her abilities, so I can’t hear her at great distances.”

  The ship began to move again. Byron glanced at the cockpit and confirmed their departure from the Litheron. The teleporter came to life as the pilot prepared to jump the shuttle.

  “I told your father I think you’re one brave young man.”

  Byron’s attention returned to Piten. The man leaned forward as far as the harness would allow, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Sporting a fatherly smile, the Rogue gazed at Bassan.

  “My son’s brave as well,” Piten said. “He’s a climber. Can’t keep him off anything. Are you a climber?”

  The ship jumped, making a smooth transition. Bassan adjusted his grip on the harness and sat up straighter.

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  “Whenever I work on my fighter,” the Rogue said, his head tilted to one side, “my son joins me. Takes him less than a minute to climb up to the tail.”

  “He gets to climb on your fighter?” said Bassan, coming to life.

  “I doubt I could stop him. He likes to pretend he’s flying. When he’s through, he helps me with repairs. Think he’ll make an excellent mechanic someday.”

  “You work on your own ship?” Byron inquired, joining the conversation.