Sliding back his chair, Bassa rose to his feet. “A suitable replacement will be located.”
Rellen leapt from his seat. “Well, that is not our concern! If you’re ready to dine?”
“I am.”
He reached for his computer and hesitated before clearing the screen. Byron’s dilemma promised to occupy his thoughts for the remainder of the evening. Rellen’s assessment was correct, though. The fleet would be hard-pressed to match Byron with a navigator of equal skill and ability. Those with experience would balk at an alliance with a rookie pilot, and those who might be willing would lack the skill and fortitude to keep the young man in line. And that worried Bassa.
He won’t stand a chance in the fleet, he thought to himself as the screen’s image vanished.
Chapter Six
The small, formal ceremony came to a close, concluding with the joyous shouts of twenty young men. Thirty-six started the program six months ago, but of those gathered today, Byron doubted any thought about the ones who’d failed. They were officially Cosbolt pilots and navigators now.
Byron returned to his quarters to retrieve his gear. The men were departing at once for Cassa and three days of much needed leave. He couldn’t even remember his last free day. Byron intended to live it up until he reported for his first official assignment as a pilot. He still needed a navigator, which might require another month or two on Cassa, but that problem could wait. He had three days to revel in his success.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he surveyed his quarters one more time before departing. Byron jumped when the door panel opened and he discovered Trindel waiting. His friend appeared just as surprised.
“Sorry!” Trindel exclaimed, adjusting the bag in his hand. “Thought we could go down to the shuttle together.”
“Sure,” Byron replied with a shrug.
Trindel fell in step beside him as they moved toward the lift. Neither seemed inclined to speak; a testimony to the unease between pilot and navigator. Byron still resented his friend’s decision to pursue another career, although he’d suppressed his hostile feelings while they completed the program. Trindel had apologized repeatedly and almost to the point of annoyance. Byron knew he was acting childish by ignoring his navigator’s attempts to make peace, but he still felt betrayed. They had managed to set aside their differences during their flights, but the rift in their friendship continued to separate the two men.
Another team joined them in the lift, and the men’s eager banter regarding their trip to Cassa elicited a smile from Trindel. The young man’s amusement bubbled forth from his thoughts and Byron felt a twinge of guilt for acting so harsh the past few days. Despite his mixed feelings, he would miss Trindel’s sense of humor and overzealous spirit. If not for his navigator, Byron’s smile would’ve remained hidden during their training.
The officers awaited the men at the transport. Each instructor offered his congratulations to the new junior officers as they boarded the ship. Byron accepted the handshakes and salutes with a grin, proud of his new title and rank.
The senior officer was the last to speak to the men before they entered the ship. Bassa wished Trindel well in his next career as the young man stepped on the ramp. Byron moved forward and offered the senior instructor a proper salute.
“Thank you, sir, for all of your assistance,” he said. And for believing in me, he added privately.
“As you will soon discover, I have total faith in your abilities and skills, Byron,” the senior officer stated, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Byron was puzzled by his choice of words. Before he could speak again, Bassa held out his hand.
“Safe flying, pilot.”
Byron returned his handshake and offered a rare smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He proceeded up the ramp and into the ship. Stowing his bag with the others, he glanced around for Trindel. Most of the men had spread out across the cabin in pairs. Byron located his friend sitting by himself. Another wave of guilt struck him. Trindel had tried so hard to seek forgiveness, and Byron had returned his gestures with cold indifference. The return flight to Cassa might be their last opportunity to spend time together. Indeed, it might be the last time he ever saw his friend. Straightening his shoulders, Byron decided to bury his resentment and just enjoy Trindel’s company.
He paused by the open seat and his friend looked up in surprise. “Can I sit here?” Byron asked.
“Sure,” replied Trindel, straightening his posture.
Byron dropped into the seat and stretched his long legs. He did not know what to say to Trindel, and battled with his reluctance to speak. Discussing his thoughts and feelings was not Byron’s strength, and admitting he was wrong was even more difficult. However, he possessed precious few friends. Byron did not want this friendship to end on a sour note.
Still struggling with his words, Byron cleared his throat. “You do realize,” he said, his eyes on the hands in his lap, “that my next navigator won’t be half as good as you.”
Without raising his chin, Byron cast a sideways glance at his friend. With only a moment’s hesitation, Trindel flashed a broad smile.
“I appreciate that,” he said, his gratitude reflected in his eyes.
“You were there when I needed you,” Byron admitted. “We made a damned good team, too.”
Trindel nodded, his eyes dropping. “Byron, I’m really sorry …” he began, fingers nervously plucking at the armrest.
“You’ve apologized enough!” Byron cried, holding up his hand to forestall Trindel’s words.
His friend flashed a pitiful look, his eyes wide. Byron leaned his head against the seat and felt the final twinges of anger leave his body.
“I just wish you the best,” he concluded, offering his friend a faint smile.
Trindel did not speak, but Byron felt relief pour from his friend like cascading water. Nodding, Trindel returned his smile.
“Thanks,” he said.
The exchange lifted a great weight from Byron’s shoulders. His mind at once shifted to a new subject.
“So, what are you going to do for three days?” he inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Trindel admitted. “I’ll probably go see my family. I guess I have a whole week to decide my next career path. I’ll stay with navigation, but not sure in which field.”
He paused and stared at Byron. “What are you going to do?”
Byron shrugged. “I really don’t know.”
“Maybe we can spend a day or two together before I go see my family?” Trindel offered, his voice tinged with hope.
Meeting his friend’s gaze, Byron smiled. “That would be great!” he exclaimed, pleased with the offer.
Trindel’s grin grew to enormous proportions and Byron discovered he mirrored his friend’s expression.
The transport began to move and the men prepared for takeoff. As the ship taxied out of the hanger, Byron felt a renewed sense of hope. His future partner might be uncertain, but at least his friendship with Trindel remained intact.
Bag slung over his shoulder, Byron maneuvered through the heavy foot traffic. The military terminal was busy today, as evidenced by the crowds wandering the facility. He darted around the slower moving men, determined to catch his ship before it departed.
Locating the correct terminal and launch bay at last, Byron hesitated just inside the massive opening. His gaze fell on his ship and he realized it was no ordinary transport. A massive, deep space vessel filled the hanger, dwarfing the two smaller ships nearby. He gasped and stared in awe at the ship. Just where was the fleet sending him?
Noting cargo and equipment waiting at the loading dock, Byron realized he had a few minutes to spare. Glancing over his shoulder, he spied an open computer station in the hallway. His assignment had been unavailable earlier, and Byron was eager to discover his destination. He slipped over to the computer station and punched in his security code.
Holding his breath, he watched his profile information scroll across the sc
reen. He hoped the fleet wasn’t sending him to a remote base on a desolate moon. Without a navigator, though, his options were limited.
Noting his profile had just received an update, he scanned the new information. Reading the notification under ‘Current Assignment,’ his mouth fell open in disbelief. He reread the first line again, afraid it was a mistake. Byron could not hide his foolish grin as he realized his incredible good fortune. His first assignment was the flagship Sorenthia!
His mind reeled at the news. The deep space cruiser was legendary. The ship had participated in numerous battles and her captain was one of the top commanders in the fleet. The Sorenthia possessed an elite reputation, and men earned the right and honor to serve with her crew. Byron hadn’t even considered this assignment a possibility. Commander Kernen never accepted pilots fresh out of training. Experience and a high recommendation were required to serve on the Sorenthia. Bassa had promised high marks, but Byron didn’t possess combat experience.
Byron scanned the information once more, but discovered no mention of a navigator other than ‘pending.’ He’d have to wait until he arrived on board the Sorenthia to satisfy that curiosity.
Even with multiple jumps, which required more energy but carried the ship a greater distance, the journey to reach the Sorenthia consumed most of the day. The deep space transport carried predominantly cargo and supplies. The only passengers besides Byron were three medical personnel. He conversed with the men during the first hour of flight, but after that, he kept to himself. The rhythmic pulses of the teleporter were far more inviting, and Byron’s mind focused on the unique sensation. Soon he would take his first flight as an official Cosbolt pilot.
It was past time for the evening meal when the transport arrived at the Sorenthia’s location. Byron regretted the lack of view from the shuttle, as the sight was surely spectacular. Adrenaline surged through his system as the transport landed and he could scarcely wait to disembark. After almost two years of training, he was about to begin his first official assignment!
Retrieving his bag, Byron exited the vessel behind the three medical technicians. The men were greeted by a fellow medical officer who welcomed them aboard the Sorenthia. As they stepped aside, Byron realized someone awaited his arrival as well.
“Officer Byron?” the ensign inquired.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Welcome to the Sorenthia. Would you come with me please?”
Byron followed the young man as he led him out of the hanger. He did not want to appear unseasoned, but his gaze travelled across the hanger, absorbing his new surroundings. Once they entered the hallway, Byron kept his eyes on his escort. The ensign navigated two hallways before stepping into a lift, his gaze averted. Byron was curious, but refrained from asking questions.
From that point, they traversed another long hallway, passing several men as they walked. Byron observed their curious stares and maintained a neutral expression, his thoughts shielded. The scrutiny unnerved him, and it was with great relief when his escort paused by a closed door.
“These are your quarters, sir,” he announced, gesturing to the press plate.
Byron waved his hand over the panel and the door slid aside. He stepped into a room larger than his quarters on Guaard, although just as sterile. In addition to a bed, workstation, and storage area, a small table and two chairs occupied the room. Another door opened to a bathroom, which also appeared more spacious than his previous quarters.
“Sir, you just missed the evening meal, so someone will bring you food shortly,” the young man informed him, his high-pitched voiced almost squeaking from the effort. “Further instructions are located in your file. You are to report to Officer Larnth this evening. You can access the ship’s layout for the location of his office on your computer.”
Byron nodded, and without another word, the ensign departed. The door closed, leaving Byron in the silence of his quarters.
Dropping his bag on the bed, he decided a shower was in order before anything else. The cold water felt good on his face, but he did not linger in the bathroom. He still needed to eat and locate Officer Larnth’s office before his appointed meeting with the man.
An ensign arrived with his meal and Byron consumed his food in front of the computer, studying the floor plan of the ship. Locating the appropriate section, he calculated the quickest route. He smiled as he realized the teleporter pods were now available for use. No longer would he be forced to rely on slow and cumbersome lifts!
Departing early, he located the nearest teleporter pod. Once again, local personnel noted his presence. Byron felt curious eyes as he passed each man, questioning his right to be in that area. He pretended not to notice and acted as if he was at complete ease with his surroundings. One aspect he could not ignore, though; every man he encountered was several years his senior.
Teleporting to the appropriate corridor, Byron emerged just a few steps from Officer Larnth’s door. Hearing sounds in the distance, he glanced down the hallway. Satisfied his passage would go unobserved, he approached the office. Pausing at the closed door, he adjusted his uniform and took a deep breath. Unable to delay any longer, he reached for the panel.
“Enter!” a voice commanded over the com link.
The door slid aside and Byron lifted his chin as he entered. He took three steps and came to an abrupt halt. He’d grown accustomed to Bassa’s immense office, but this room was not even a third of the size. Byron regained his composure and waited by the chair opposite of Larnth’s desk. He stood at attention, his eyes facing forward, and waited for the officer to speak first.
The man behind the desk leaned away from his computer screen. “At least you’re punctual,” he commented.
“Yes, sir,” Byron responded.
Out of the corner of his eye, Byron noticed Officer Larnth’s skeptical expression. The man’s dark, thick hair carried over to his eyebrows, which were pulled together in a scowl. Byron’s thoughts were already guarded, but the sight of Larnth caused his defenses to lock into place. They had just met, but already Byron could sense the man didn’t like him.
“You have been assigned to my squadron, Officer Byron,” he announced in a voice as cold as death. “Under normal circumstances, I’d protest the inclusion of a rookie pilot fresh from Guaard.”
Byron met his gaze, but did not speak. He’d not expected a warm welcome, but the resentment in Larnth’s words did not set him at ease.
“However, I’ve been informed your navigator is one of the best in the fleet. I will expect your performance to match his excellence, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Byron replied with as much respect and enthusiasm as he could muster.
Officer Larnth glanced at his screen. “I understand you’re a jumper,” he stated, his tone less severe.
“Yes, sir.”
“You are to maintain a low profile of the ability. I’ll not have my pilots performing reckless multiple jumps.”
“Understood, sir.”
Leaning back in his chair, Larnth stared hard at Byron. “Your navigator arrives tomorrow morning. You will both report to briefing room nine at 700 hours for squadron assignments.
“Commander Kernen is expecting you as well. His private office is on level fourteen, section two. Dismissed.”
With a nod, Byron turned on his heels and beat a hasty retreat from Larnth’s office. Nerves still quivering, he entered the teleporter pod and visualized his destination.
The prospect of an assignment on the Sorenthia, once so inviting, now felt soured. Byron questioned his own desire to remain at this post, despite the honor. The resistance toward his presence was unsettling. Bassa’s glowing recommendation had placed Byron in yet another awkward situation.
Emerging from the telepod, he glanced in both directions before proceeding. Byron stood at attention as two senior officers passed, but they scarcely noticed his presence. Annoyed by his failure to study the ship’s layout in depth, Byron elected to move away from the officers and try his l
uck at that end of the corridor first.
Fortunately, the commander’s office was clearly marked. He paused at the door and reached for the press plate.
One moment, echoed a voice in his mind.
Startled by the non-verbal response, Byron stepped aside to wait. A moment later, the doors slid open. Two officers emerged, and he was told to enter.
The layout of the commander’s office was inviting and a sharp contrast to Larnth’s. Byron had only a split second to observe the numerous personal effects, photos, and awards before a deep voice commanded his attention.
“Officer Byron?”
He turned to face the commander, who was retrieving a bottle from an ornate cabinet. “Yes, sir” he responded, standing at attention.
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