Byron suppressed a grin and was partially successful. A loud guffaw from Orellen wiped the smile from his face.
“A war hero indeed,” the prefect drawled. “Well, Officer Byron, you might possess talent, but I’ll not have you filling my pilots’ heads with delusions of war conquests.”
“No, sir,” Byron answered in a respectful tone, his muscles tense. When Orellen’s attention returned to the commander, Byron downed his water in one gulp. The pilot wanted nothing more than to escape the company of the prefect.
A young Tgren approached Orellen and announced that his plane was ready. The man’s expression changed at once. Byron detected smug satisfaction as the prefect ushered them out of the room.
“I’ve requested the service of our best pilot for our flight to the alien ruins,” Orellen announced as they crossed the hanger.
A small plane rested on the runway. Byron eyed the craft with reservations. The wide wings were disproportional to the stubby body. The bulky engines dangled from the wings like overripe fruit in danger of falling in the slightest breeze. Recalling Garnce’s observation, Byron wondered if they emitted the same black smoke as the cart. That the plane ap peared new, its sandy colored paint glistening in the sun, was a small consolation. He doubted it was capable of proper flight.
The pilot emerged from the craft and stood beside the small hatch. Noting the slight frame within the orange flight suit, Byron wondered if their best pilot was a child. A strong crosswind moved across the runway, stirring the dust. The breeze caught the pilot’s hair, sending a tangle of long, black tresses cascading into the air, pulling hard at the flight cap. Byron hesitated as he realized their pilot was a woman.
She stood at attention as they approached, one hand resting on the wing of the plane. Her smile grew as the prefect drew close, revealing natural beauty. Her mischievous grin also suggested an adventurous spirit.
“Prefect Orellen!” she cried in greeting.
The man paused, offering her a fatherly smile, before turning to the Cassans. “Commander Anceptor, let me introduce Athee, our finest pilot,” he said, his chest out with pride.
Still smiling, she extending her hand to the commander. “Pleased to meet you, sir. Welcome to Tgren,” said Athee, her rich voice pleasant on the ears.
Now that he was closer, Byron sensed mental ability within the woman. It wasn’t subtle, either. An aura of power sprang forth from her mind, sending ripples across his thoughts. The energy produced a radiance that bordered on visual. Its strength penetrated his mental barrier, intruding on his thoughts. Athee turned to face him and Byron shielded his mind at once. Her brows came together and she appeared puzzled. Byron’s body stiffened and he wondered if she’d heard his thoughts despite the shields.
“Officer Byron!”
Anceptor’s reprimand jolted Byron from his thoughts. He caught the commander’s frown and realized his shields had blocked the man’s mental prod for a response. However, the prefect’s scowl was far more menacing. Byron returned his gaze to Athee. She smiled and he noticed her extended hand.
“Forgive me, pilot Athee,” he said, holding out his palm.
Her eyes reflected amusement as she grasped his hand. Her firm and confident handshake was at odds with her petite form. Byron managed a faint smile and relaxed his shields. He did not want to miss another silent command from Anceptor.
Releasing his hand, Athee tilted her head to one side. Byron caught a wave of emotion and realized she was admiring his appearance. Embarrassed, he shifted his gaze to his commander, who still appeared annoyed by his pilot’s inability to pay attention.
“Shall we board?” the prefect asked, breaking the awkward silence.
Is this assignment going to be a problem, Officer Byron? Anceptor asked as he mounted the short steps behind the prefect.
No, sir! My apologies, but the psychic strength of our pilot caught me unaware.
The commander paused in the doorway. The woman?
Yes, sir.
Anceptor glanced past Byron. She’ll require testing. Judging from the prefect’s reaction that may prove difficult.
The Cassan security officer was instructed to remain behind, as the plane only held four passengers. Byron took a seat on the second bench beside the prefect’s personal guard. Orellen embarked on a spiel regarding the finer points of Tgren aircraft while Athee prepared the craft for takeoff. His words were designed to impress, but they did nothing to reassure Byron. He felt safer in his Darten, surrounded by enemy vessels, than in this poorly designed plane.
Athee started the engines. Byron glanced out the tiny window to his right. As expected, a plume of black smoke billowed forth as the motor came to life. The engines gained strength, causing the smoke to disperse. The plane rolled forward and started down the runway. Velocity increasing, Byron was aware of every jolt as the tires bumped across the uneven surface. The end of the track loomed closer, giving way to wild vegetation. His muscles tightened and he grasped the seat below him.
I’ve faced a thousand enemy ships, and now I’m going to die in this damned plane, he thought.
At the last moment, the nose pulled skyward. The wheels left the ground and the shaking ceased. Continuing to accelerate, the plane banked to the left and cleared the bushes. Byron caught Athee’s exhilaration as the craft soared higher. Relaxing his grip on the seat cushion, he sighed with relief.
They circled the surrounding area in a slow, gentle arc. The prefect pointed out various landmarks below as they passed. Byron only half listened to Orellen’s words. His attention focused instead on the young woman flying the plane. Her excitement continued to project as they glided high above the ground. Despite Athee’s feelings, she was focused on her flying. Confidence rippled from her mind as she guided the plane with precision. Byron doubted she realized her thoughts were overheard by anyone. Anceptor was correct–Athee required testing.
Athee brought the craft in lower and Byron could just discern a thin strip of open ground on the valley floor. The surface of the rocky mountain to their left flashed by in a blur as she prepared to land. Byron braced himself for a rough landing, determined to keep his seat. The craft touched down with a gentle bump, and while the craft jolted down the runway, it was no worse than the takeoff.
The plane taxied to the end of the path. Glancing out the window, Byron noted several makeshift buildings and tents residing at the foot of the mountain. The material of the Tgren’s shelters fluttered in the breeze. Turning the vessel in a circle, Athee brought the plane to a halt and turned off the engines.
“Excellent flight, Athee,” the prefect said, turning to Anceptor. “She placed first in four of our five flight competitions this year.”
Athee glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Bragging on me again, Uncle?”
Uncle? Byron thought, staring at the back of the man’s head. Great!
They exited the craft and were greeted by several Tgrens. Byron noted the empty carts and wondered if Mevine’s trek to the site had been as adventurous as this journey. He hoped the scientist hadn’t fallen off the cart in his zeal to reach the alien ruins.
Strolling past the campsite, they entered a wide opening in the mountainside. The cave had been reinforced with metal beams and cleared of debris. The air inside was much cooler although a dusty smell permeated Byron’s nose. Simple incandescent bulbs dangled from thick wires, providing light for their passage. The prefect continued to speak and his voice reverberated down the tunnel. Byron followed several paces behind Orellen and Anceptor. He concentrated on his footing as the tunnel dipped lower, winding deeper into the mountainside.
Byron looked up just in time to see the prefect turn to the left and enter a side passage. He followed behind his commander, maintaining distance from Orellen. Byron hesitated when his boots struck metal. The walls were no longer rock but of a substance which created a deep, metallic blue sheen. The passageway extended in both directions with lights strung on thick wires along the floor. The bulbs weren’t
the only illumination, though. The tunnel was ringed with blue lights that cast an unusual glow on the passageway.
Ruins, indeed! This place is very much alive, he thought, aware of a deep hum within the walls.
They continued down the tunnel to the right and soon came upon a large, round doorway. The others stepped inside and Byron followed. The nondescript passageway had not prepared his senses and Byron’s step faltered.
A strange smell permeated the air and Byron recognized the warm aroma of plasma. A giant ball filled with a semi-transparent green liquid occupied the center of the room. Held in place by metal tendrils gripping the base, it was elevated above the main floor. As he gazed at the ball, a burst of pure, white energy arced from the metal fingers. Byron didn’t flinch, but he felt the discharge on his skin. The electrical throb briefly overshadowed the deep hum, sending vibrations through his head.
Another burst filled the ball, and secondary lights caught his attention. Byron noticed small, transparent tubes running out from between the metal tendrils. While he watched, another pulse sent waves of energy rippling down the tubes. He followed one line and discovered it connected to a crescent shaped console. Raising his gaze, Byron realized there were multiple workstations in the area. It was then that he noticed dozens of Cassans and Tgrens occupying the room. The men were bent over consoles and equipment, their voices an uneven pitch of noise compared to the pulsating ball.
Noting the array of lights filling the rounded walls of the cavernous room, his gaze traveled toward the high ceiling. White light spiked from the center, traveling down the walls. Byron frowned, puzzled by the sight. The room itself appeared encased in a plasmic globe. The pulses were weaker but more frequent, and with every arc of energy, thousands of tiny dots appeared across the ceiling. In all his years of travel, Byron had never encountered technology such as this.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
Startled by the close proximity of her voice, Byron discovered Athee at his side. She had removed her flight gear and her long, wavy hair now draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were on the rounded ceiling, the soft bursts of light bathing her skin in a soft glow. He sensed curiosity in the woman.
“I’ll be more impressed when we discover its purpose,” Byron answered, peering at the nearest device.
“Think it’s a weapon?”
Byron leaned closer to the set of pulsating lights. “Always a possibility. Whatever it is, we need to be cautious.”
Amusement rippled through her mind. “So, until proven otherwise, you consider anything alien to be a threat?”
Straightening his shoulders, Byron faced the woman. With her cap removed and hair free, Athee’s youth was very apparent. She couldn’t be much older than Mevine. Athee’s face was narrower than the woman’s in the hanger office, with high cheekbones and a long, elegant nose. While her beauty was undisputable, a single train of thought ran through Byron’s mind: She was the prefect’s niece. That meant off limits.
“Not everything,” he said, aware she still awaited his reply.
Athee stood up to her full height and lifted her chin. “So, was my flying satisfactory, Officer Byron?”
“Yes. Your approach and landing need improvement, though.”
“Is that so? Would you care to show me the proper technique, Officer Byron?”
Sensing her playful challenge, he smiled. “If I can do it in my fighter.”
Grinning, Athee placed her hands behind her back. “Ah, but that would be cheating,” she charged, pivoting her body to gaze once more at the ceiling.
Byron was about to respond when he caught sight of the commander and prefect on the other side of the room. Athee’s mischievous thoughts echoed in his mind, toying with him. Slamming his mental shields into place, Byron shut out her presence.
Damn it, what are you doing? Stop flirting with her! he thought.
Glancing around the room, Byron caught sight of Mevine. His company presented other problems, especially if the scientist began asking more questions about Byron’s past, but he preferred a familiar challenge he could handle. Excusing himself from Athee’s presence, he strode across the room.
Mevine was hunched over a tiny panel in a corner, his fingers flying across his personal computer pad. Byron stood to one side, afraid he would scare the young man. When it became apparent Mevine was oblivious to his surroundings, Byron touched his mind.
Mevine?
Glancing up from his work, Mevine met Byron’s eyes. “Officer Byron! I’m sorry, I was engrossed with these figures.”
“I could tell,” said Byron, crossing his arms. “Must be fascinating.”
“Oh, it’s incredible!” he said, his face lighting up with joy.
“Think you can decipher it?”
“The language is old and complex,” Mevine said, rubbing the side of his forehead. “It’ll take time.”
Byron glanced at the screen, but the symbols meant nothing to him. Offering Mevine a faint smile, he patted the lad’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll crack the code.”
Mevine sat up straight in his chair. As evidenced by his unchecked emotions, Byron’s words had bolstered the young man’s confidence. Feeling overwhelmed, Byron nodded and moved toward the exit.
Damn, doesn’t anyone know how to shield? he thought as he retreated from the alien room.
Chapter Four
The others in his party did not linger in the ruins and reconvened outside. The return flight was uneventful, save for the intense discussion between the commander and the prefect. Both expressed concerns that the alien site might be a threat.
“Prefect Orellen, with your permission, I’d like to request that more security be brought to the surface,” Anceptor announced.
“Commander, I understand your concerns, but additional Cassan forces shouldn’t be necessary.”
“Prefect, it would only be to ensure the safety of those working on the alien site.”
“I still have reservations about your men poking around the site,” Orellen said. “My people are already alarmed by the discovery. If they see a troop of soldiers descending on our city, it might cause a panic.”
Byron’s gaze flicked to Anceptor. The commander’s jaw was set and forehead wrinkled with concern.
“If the alien site is a weapon or a situation develops, we need a team in place that can handle it,” Anceptor replied, his voice cold. “We want to ensure the safety of your people as well as our own.”
Orellen continued to resist Anceptor’s plan to bring more Cassan security to the surface The commander persisted and the prefect finally conceded.
The conflict resolved, Byron’s attention shifted to the view outside. He knew their science officers were taking every precaution, but the Tgrens were neither prepared, nor experienced, for this type of work. The thought of untrained natives wandering the alien site was a great concern. He didn’t want his demise to come from an explosion set off by ignorance any more than he wanted to die in this plane.
Upon their return to Ktren, Anceptor requested a guide to take Byron to Officer Illenth’s facility. The prefect seemed happy to rid himself of the pilot’s presence and asked a security guard to escort Byron.
“You will take your quarters there as well,” Orellen said, dismissing Byron with the flick of his hand.
Annoyed, but relieved to escape the man, Byron left to retrieve his bag. The Tgren man waited outside the shuttle while Byron secured the vessel. None of these people could fly the ship, but he didn’t want curious hands damaging the interior.
Byron touched Garnce’s mind and discovered the pilot asleep in his cockpit. Lazy fool, Byron thought as he followed the security guard toward the hanger. Damned lucky fool, too.
They crossed the empty hanger, the wind blowing at their backs. Forceful voices reached Byron’s ears as he followed the Tgren out an exit on the far side. He found the prefect and commander in the middle of a heated discussion. Anceptor’s thoughts were shielded, but Byron recognized his tone. The
man meant business.
Officer Byron, wait.
His escort continued to the left, but Byron was not about to disobey Anceptor’s request. He paused to face his commander and noticed Athee on the other side of the prefect. Her confusion and agitation broadcast unchecked from her mind and only added to the confusion. Suspecting she was the subject of their argument, he approached the two men with care.
The security guard reappeared at his side and the sudden movement caught Orellen’s attention. The prefect turned toward Byron, his face twisted with indignation.
“What’s this nonsense about my niece possessing strong psychic abilities?” he demanded.
Gripping his flight bag even tighter, Byron waited for Anceptor’s nod before replying. “I am sensitive to the mental emissions of others,” he explained, “and her powers broadcast loud and clear.”
Uttering a Tgren expletive, the prefect clenched his fists. The commander narrowed his eyes.
“Prefect Orellen, she should be tested,” Anceptor stated.
“I questioned this whole business of psychic abilities from the beginning,” began Orellen, raising a threatening finger. “While it may be natural for Cassans, we on Tgren use our voices to communicate.”
Until this moment, Athee had remained silent. Byron sensed indignation at the prefect’s words and she found her voice at last.
“Uncle!” she exclaimed, grasping his forearm. “What if I do possess mental powers? I want to be tested.”
The two faced each other, locked in a battle of wills. The prefect’s wrinkled forehead carried down to his chin, adding force to his square and unrelenting features. Byron doubted many challenged the man and fewer still met with success. Kin or not, a woman of Athee’s age and stature stood little chance against a man possessing Orellen’s disposition.
CassaFire Page 4
