CassaStar

by Cavanaugh, Alex J.

  “What do the regulations say about multiple jumps?” he demanded.

  Byron took a deep breath. “Jumps should not be attempted closer than five minutes apart,” he replied, his eyes cold.

  “And how many jumps did you perform today in just under nine minutes?”

  “Four, sir.”

  “How many?”

  “Four, sir!” Byron and Trindel cried in unison.

  Bassa stared hard at the men as he rose to his feet. Neither moved, but he sensed Trindel’s mental flinch.

  “You placed yourself and others at risk,” he stated. “Jumping without allowing the teleporter to recharge is reckless and dangerous. Your third jump might be excused, but certainly not the final jump. That was sheer stupidity!”

  Byron shifted his stance, but his face bore no traces of apology. Annoyed by the young man’s continued defiance, Bassa realized there was only one way to reach the arrogant pilot.

  “Not only will this result in a mark on your record, but I am considering dismissing you both from the program.”

  As if he’d just been slapped, Byron’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. For a brief moment, Bassa sensed fear in the young man. Byron’s expression altered to one of indignation, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. Bassa wondered what foolish words the young man was about to spew and waited for the response.

  “Sir?” came Trindel’s timid voice. “If I may say something?”

  Shifting his attention, Bassa scowled. “Out with it!”

  Glancing at his pilot, Trindel swallowed hard. “Sir, Byron didn’t use the teleporter’s power on our last two jumps,” he offered, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush.

  “What do you mean?” demanded Bassa, assuming Trindel was searching for any excuse at this point.

  “Our teleporter’s power was at zero when he made those jumps, sir.”

  Confounded, Bassa stared at Trindel. Such a feat was preposterous. Pilots could not fold space without the teleporter. Unless by chance …

  Bassa turned to his computer and pulled up the transcript from their flight. Requesting the power level of the teleporter at the time of each jump, Bassa eyed the screen with skepticism. The first jump had required sixty percent of the unit’s energy and the teleporter’s power only recharged to fifty percent by the time they performed the second jump. It was the final two jumps that caused Bassa to pause in bewilderment. The teleporter’s energy level rested at zero on both occasions, just as Trindel had claimed.

  Bassa glanced up at the two men. Byron appeared confused and his angry thoughts had subsided. The senior officer stared at the young pilot as he digested the full implication of this new development.

  Settling into his chair, Bassa retrieved Byron’s records. Searching through the history, he attempted to locate the young man’s last psyche evaluation. There had to be some mention of extraordinary powers that would explain jumps without using the teleporter’s power. However, the most recent testing had occurred over ten years ago and was noted as just above normal.

  Perplexed, Bassa began searching for any mention of additional powers. Byron’s record was lengthy, but most of it covered physical skill or disciplinary measures. Frustrated by the lack of information, Bassa scrolled through the pages. The content provided no answers, though. Nothing in Byron’s records indicated that he could teleport using his own power.

  Bassa leaned away from the screen in frustration. He regarded the young men with annoyance, although the feeling was not directed at them. Byron and Trindel appeared quite confused and continued to wait in silence. Bassa decided there was only one way to discover the truth.

  “I am ordering you both to remain silent on this matter, understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” they replied.

  Bassa nodded at the young navigator. “Trindel, you are dismissed.”

  He hesitated, glancing first at his pilot. With a nod, Trindel turned and beat a hasty retreat. Byron did not move, and Bassa thought he detected anxiety.

  Leaning forward, he reached for the com. “Chief Toka?”

  There was a pause before the flight chief responded. “Yes, sir?”

  “How soon can you have 715T ready for launch?”

  “I can have it ready in ten minutes, sir!”

  “Make it happen, Toka.”

  Releasing the com button, Bassa retrieved his flight gloves and rose to his feet. “We’re going to test this ability of yours,” he announced to Byron. “Come with me.”

  Stepping around his desk, he gestured for the pilot to precede him out of the office. Byron complied, his apprehension at odds with his usual confident demeanor. Bassa wondered if he had at last found a means by which to break through Byron’s cocky shell.

  Upon entering the hallway, the young man hesitated. Bassa strode purposefully toward the teleportation pod, trusting Byron would follow. Determined to know the truth, he wanted to get Byron in the pilot’s seat without further delay. The boy followed without question and joined Bassa in the pod.

  Still dressed for flight, Bassa waited while the young man donned his suit. He sensed Byron’s growing nervousness and wondered if he was aware of how strongly his feelings were projecting. Other than confidence and resentment, the pilot never allowed his emotions to show. Since Bassa was unsure what triggered the young man’s extra powers, he let Byron remain on edge and tense. Perhaps emotion and adrenaline had fueled his ability.

  They performed the necessary preflight check before departing. Byron appeared uncomfortable with the senior officer in the navigator’s seat, but he settled once they entered space. Bassa relayed the coordinates and Byron set the proper course.

  We’ll perform two consecutive jumps and drain the teleporter’s power first, understood? Bassa thought as he selected the locations of their jumps.

  Yes, sir, Byron responded, his mental voice loud and clear.

  Bassa focused on the young man’s mind. First jump! he instructed.

  A moment of darkness signified Byron’s compliance and they emerged at the new location. Bassa confirmed their success before giving his pilot new coordinates.

  Second jump!

  The ship arrived without incident at the next location. Bassa checked the teleporter’s power and discovered the two jumps had indeed drained the device. The next jump would rely solely on Byron’s unique ability.

  Teleporter’s energy is at zero. Return to our original position, he instructed.

  Sir, I don’t even know how I did it, Byron protested. I don’t think …

  Don’t think! I’m ordering you to jump, pilot. Now, jump!

  The thought had barely left his mind when everything went black. The stars returned outside the cockpit and Bassa checked their location. Byron had performed a precise jump and with no energy in the teleporter. Bassa leaned his head against the seat and contemplated the facts.

  Only one in 800,000 Cassans had extraordinary abilities. Of those possessing heightened powers, fewer still became pilots. In all his years of flying and instructing, Bassa had only once met such a fighter pilot. The man revealed his ability to just a select few, as it was feared those lacking such talent would try to emulate his multiple jumps and meet with failure. Now he was faced with a second pilot who could funnel his own power into the teleporter.

  Bassa had worried that the other pilots might attempt some of Byron’s more daring moves. Now the young man possessed yet another trick they could not hope to perform with any amount of success. The senior officer’s efforts to suppress chaos would really be put to the test with this new development.

  His thoughts shifted as he became aware of Byron’s overflowing pride and elation. The young man sensed his great accomplishment and was making no attempt to hide his excitement. Bassa needed to regain control of the situation and fast.

  New coordinates, he told Byron, selecting the location of their next jump.

  Confirming the position, Byron jumped the ship once again. Bassa checked the teleporter’s energy level and discov
ered his pilot hadn’t even touched the five percent of restored power. The young man had jumped twice now using his own abilities.

  Another jump, sir? Byron inquired, his eagerness obvious.

  No, Bassa replied. Return to base.

  Once in the hanger, Byron turned to face Bassa as they exited the cockpit.

  “Sir, are we still receiving a mark on our record?” he asked, his demeanor humble.

  Bassa straightened his shoulders. “I will make that decision tomorrow,” he answered, dismissing Byron with a curt nod.

  The young man retreated to the flight room to change. Bassa remained by the ship for a moment, lost in thought. He was in unchartered territory now and needed to contemplate his course of action. Byron would require guidance beyond standard Cosbolt training. Moreover, it would need to be performed in secret.

  The boy’s living up to his challenging reputation, Bassa thought.

  The following day, squadron training focused on defensive combat maneuvers. Byron had anticipated teleporting regulations and procedures and felt relieved. The jabs he had received from the other trainees frustrated him, even more so because he couldn’t reveal his unique ability.

  He’d discussed the matter in private with Trindel. His navigator appeared in awe of the talent. Byron’s own excitement was dampened by the thought of a mark on their record, though. It might even result in failure to pass the course, and that thought chilled him to the core.

  Their afternoon flight was unmarred by incident and the instructor spent little time discussing their performance. Byron wondered when his team would learn of their fate. As the debriefing ended, though, he heard Bassa’s voice in his head.

  Report to my office.

  Meeting the senior officer’s gaze, Byron nodded in affirmation. He turned and realized Trindel was staring at his teammate, his eyes wide.

  Let’s go, he told Trindel, gesturing for his friend to move.

  They rode the lift in silence. Trindel’s anxiety filled the small compartment and Byron shifted uncomfortably. He wished his navigator could exhibit some control over his feelings. Whatever news they were about to receive, he didn’t want to give Bassa the satisfaction of knowing it bothered them.

  They exited the lift and walked toward Bassa’s office. As the men approached the double doors, Byron turned to Trindel.

  Relax.You’re making me nervous!

  I’ll try, Trindel replied with a sigh. I guess it can’t be that bad. After all, he didn’t call us out in front of everyone.

  Straightening his shoulders, Byron passed his hand over the press plate and announced their arrival. The doors slid aside and the young men entered, apprehensive but prepared to receive their fate.

  Sitting at his desk, Bassa gestured for them to take a seat. Byron and Trindel sank into the large chairs, unable to read the senior officer’s expression as he stared at the pair. Byron grasped the armrests and waited.

  “You have presented me with a unique situation,” Bassa announced, his eyes on Byron. “Exceptional abilities are incredibly rare, and for reasons beyond my understanding, yours were missed in earlier testing. However, you do possess the mental ability to jump even when the teleporter lacks energy by channeling your own into the unit.”

  Trindel shot Byron a quick glance, but his thoughts remained concealed. Byron kept his expression neutral and waited for Bassa to continue.

  “First, I need to assess the extent of your ability. Tomorrow after the debriefing, you are to report to Officer Char for a full evaluation,” instructed the senior officer.

  “Yes, sir,” Byron replied. Tomorrow’s flight lesson was to be brief, giving the men a rare afternoon of freedom. However, if the psyche test meant he’d be free to jump more often, Byron was willing to sacrifice a few hours of down time.

  “Once the extent of your ability has been assessed, you and I will practice every afternoon after the debriefing,” Bassa announced. “When I’ve determined your skill level, Trindel will join you in the cockpit and I will supervise from my Darten. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” the men said in unison.

  Bassa regarded them with cautious eyes. “During standard training, you are to refrain from performing more than one jump per exercise unless otherwise instructed.”

  “One jump, sir?” exclaimed Byron, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think.

  “One jump! That is a direct order, pilot.”

  Byron felt his shoulders slump. “Yes, sir,” he answered, disappointed by the turn of events. Many of his trademark maneuvers required jumps.

  “I want you to focus on your skills during regular lessons. You will have ample opportunity to jump during our sessions. I don’t want the other pilots getting it in their heads that they can make multiple jumps without consequence. Limiting your jumps is one way to accomplish that feat. Concealing your ability is another. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your ability to the other trainees or discuss our private sessions. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Byron and Trindel replied.

  “If you are fortunate enough to complete this course and join the fleet, your ability will remain concealed from all but your superiors. Once you have joined a real squadron, you will appreciate the need for secrecy.

  “Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” Trindel answered without hesitation.

  Byron sensed his navigator was eager to depart, but the issue of their record weighed on his mind.

  “Sir?” he asked, feeling apprehensive. “Are we receiving a mark for yesterday’s actions?”

  Bassa appeared to contemplate his answer. Byron gripped the armrests even tighter and held his breath.

  “After considering the conditions which lead to the reprimand,” the senior officer announced, “I have decided not to include the incident in your permanent records.”

  A great weight fell from Byron’s shoulders and he flashed his navigator a grin. Trindel sighed and smiled in return. Their record would remain unmarred.

  “I will expect more from your team, though,” Bassa warned, his deep voice commanding their attention. “Do not give me cause to reconsider my decision.”

  “No, sir!” they cried in unison.

  “You are dismissed.”

  Neither required prodding, and the young men retreated from Bassa’s office in haste. Once in the hallway and at a safe distance, Trindel let loose a loud exclamation of relief.

  “No mark on our record!” he cried, patting Byron’s shoulder.

  “And we get specialized training, too,” Byron added, eager to begin those lessons. It meant extra work and longer hours, but he suspected those flights would add value to his team.

  “Hope it won’t be long before I get to join you. Bassa’s so thorough, he might hold you hostage for weeks,” Trindel observed.

  Byron rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think such a thing!”

  The thought of weeks trapped in the cockpit with the senior instructor sounded like torture. Byron hoped he could avoid such a scenario. He wanted to enjoy his special privileges, not dread the whole experience!

  Chapter Five

  Byron landed his ship with the utmost precision, pulling back on the throttle as the fighter glided down the runway. Easing into position, he felt his navigator’s assistance. A second later, the runners locked into place and ship came to a halt.

  Closing his eyes, Byron willed his muscles to relax. Today’s session had exceeded intense. Bassa had run him through numerous scenarios and multiple jumps, pushing his limits to the extreme. Byron had performed the maneuvers without error, but it required every ounce of energy to maintain the necessary level of concentration. Adjusting to the nuances of Bassa’s style of navigating had added to the challenge as well.

  Once his initial solo sessions were complete, Byron had assumed all subsequent lessons would involve Trindel. To his dismay, Bassa insisted on one flight a week with his pupil. Byron found these flights uncomfortable. He was familiar with Trindel’s
subtle guidance and presence in his head. Bassa’s navigation was more assertive and commanding. Byron didn’t enjoy sharing his thoughts with the senior officer, either.

  Their vessel taxied into the hanger and Byron shut off the engines. His emergence from the cockpit was slow, and his nerves were still on edge from the flight. Grasping the side of the ship to steady his trembling body, he realized Bassa was waiting for him at the foot of the ladder.