The Rennather became visible outside the cockpit, its surface reflecting the system’s sun. The burst of excitement from his passenger was simultaneous.
“I felt it!” she cried.
Byron’s chest filled with pride, pleased with her response. He angled the shuttle for the landing bay, bringing the runners down without so much as a jolt. The vessel came to gradual halt and he shut down the engines.
“You really enjoy teleporting, don’t you?”
Byron glanced at Athee, startled by her comment. He’d kept his feelings hidden during the jump. Had she heard his thoughts or was the woman just that perceptive?
“Yes, I enjoy it,” he admitted, his gaze returning to the view outside the cockpit.
“I guess some things can’t be shielded.”
Unnerved by that thought, Byron said nothing more.
Seheller thanked him for the transport and requested a return flight after the midday meal. Grateful for an opportunity to eat familiar food, Byron promised he would wait for the science officer. He asked the hanger crew to refuel the shuttle as well. Satisfied his ship resided in capable hands, he led Athee from the hanger.
She asked many questions as they traveled to the dining hall, eager to know more about teleportation. Once they arrived however, her attention was diverted by several crew members anxious to discover more about Tgren’s natives. Byron suspected their curiosity stemmed more from the fact Athee was a woman. He monitored their comments during the meal, prepared to intervene with a stiff reprimand if necessary. For the most part, he was able to eat without interruption.
Eventually he pried Athee away from her new admirers. Amidst protests, they returned to the hanger. The shuttle was fueled and ready to go, but Seheller was not yet present. Byron glanced at his Darten, sitting off to one side. With Athee in tow, he couldn’t take out his fighter as planned. He pressed his lips together, suppressing the disappointment that arose in his chest.
“Is that yours?” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
Byron nodded and Athee grasped his arm.
“Can I see it up close?”
Altering his course, he led Athee to the tiny fighter. Designed for maneuverability, it was not much smaller than the Tgren’s single pilot planes. However, that was where the similarities ended. Byron heard the woman’s gasps of amazement as she circled the craft. Waiting by the narrow, rounded nose, he let her explore the exterior.
“I bet it’s fast,” she called.
“Damned fast,” Byron boasted.
Athee came around the front of the Darten, one hand resting on the nose. She met his cautious stare and cocked her eyebrows. “Care to show me sometime?”
That question elicited a smirk from Byron. “You’ll see it in action tomorrow. Thought I’d fly it during our training session.”
“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Athee said, placing her hands on her hips.
“You’ll just have to keep up with me.”
Her indignant expression was priceless. However, he sensed she was prepared for the challenge.
Officer Seheller arrived a moment later with a small carton in tow. Byron ushered his passengers back into the shuttle and prepared the ship for takeoff.
This time when we jump, I want you to join my connection with the teleporter, he informed Athee as they entered space. You are to observe only, understood?
Yes, sir.
He felt her presence as he touched the device. Tapping into its power, he performed the jump. Byron was impressed with her aptitude and the ease at which she connected. Athee was indeed a fast learner.
Descending over the valley, Byron asked Seheller if he would prefer to land at the site.
Officer Byron, I’d appreciate that, the science officer thought.
The detour only consumed a few minutes. After he’d delivered his passenger, Byron launched the shuttle skyward once again. Achieving a suitable cruising altitude, he set course for the Tgren city.
“You said you could funnel your own power into the teleporter, correct?” Athee suddenly asked.
“Yes,” he answered, altering the shuttle’s course as the city came into sight.
“Show me how you do it.”
“Now? We’re almost there.”
Her disappointment rang loud in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, Byron noticed Athee’s body sink in her seat. The afternoon’s excursion had resulted in a pleasant experi ence, much to his surprise. He decided to accede to her request.
“Let’s achieve some distance first,” he said, turning the shuttle away from the Tgren city.
Circling over the plateau, he scanned for Tgren planes. No aircraft occupied the sky and he selected a point of reentry.
Focus on my bond, he instructed.
Channeling his own power into the teleporter, Byron connected with the device. Athee’s strong presence filled his mind as he prepared to jump. The teleporter hummed with added intensity as he locked on his coordinates.
Jump!
A surge of power flowed through his mind. The valley vanished, replaced by a view of the city. Byron’s grasp on the controls tightened as the extra energy continued to pulsate in his thoughts. Athee’s delight reverberated in his head and Byron struggled to hold his shields in place. With trembling hands, he brought the shuttle in for a less-than-perfect landing. The ship shuddered and came to an abrupt halt.
“That was incredible,” Athee exclaimed.
Byron shut off the engines, his heart racing. He couldn’t let her detect his discontent. Locking his shields in place, he focused on the ship’s systems. To his relief, Athee did not notice.
“Shall we count that as today’s lesson?’ he asked, eyes focused on the control panel.
Athee swiveled in her chair. “I think that’s fair.”
She wished him a good day and exited the craft. Byron remained in his seat, his mind reeling.
Her power joined mine, he thought. Athee can perform multiple jumps as well.
Byron slumped in his chair. Through the cockpit window, he watched as the Tgren woman entered the hanger and vanished from sight. His mind continued to mull over the implications.
Damn, what else is she capable of doing?
Chapter Six
Soaring over the plateau, Byron banked left. This sent his ship into a gentle dive. He glanced at his radar and counted seven planes on his tail. Following in a single, ragged line, the vessels mimicked his maneuver to the best of their ability. He’d lost a couple of them during the course of the morning, but none of the pilots straggled now.
Skimming the craggy side of the plateau, Byron pulled away and leveled his flight. It felt good to fly his Darten again. The ship protested the tame flight patterns, but he couldn’t outfly the Tgren planes or place the pilots in danger. He’d let the tiny fighter enjoy her freedom when they returned to space.
Any problems back there? he asked Athee.
We’re good, she responded.
The plane directly behind him rolled back and forth. Byron grinned at the movement, which did not alter the aircraft’s course or cause it to lose momentum. Athee’s control and precision flying were admirable qualities in a pilot her age. The woman possessed an excellent sense of placement. She was daring, but not stupid. If Athee stayed the course, no pilot on this planet would match her abilities.
Imagine what she could’ve done in a Cassan fighter, he thought.
Byron checked the formation while contemplating the next maneuver. The third plane dipped lower and began to weave from side to side.
I think Istaner is bored, Athee informed him.
Gritting his teeth, Byron gripped the throttle tighter. I think your cousin is a pain in the ass, he replied, unable to conceal his distaste for the arrogant pilot.
Athee chuckled. Her amusement eased Byron’s concerns. He’d taken a chance insulting the prefect’s son. Fortunately, his protégée was sensible. She was not impressed with Istaner’s abilities in the cockpit, regardless of his social and f
amily status.
Well, he began, feel up to a challenge?
You bet. What do you have in mind?
Byron glanced at the radar. They were approaching a mountainous area, filled with numerous peaks and valleys. It was perfect for what he had in mind.
Tell the others to keep up if they can. But no stupid moves. Your uncle would call for my head if any of you died on my watch.
He waited while she relayed the information. The Darten’s cockpit lacked room for the clumsy portable radio he’d used in the shuttle, for which he felt grateful. The primitive device was a poor excuse for a communication module. Besides, he possessed a far more reliable means for conveying his instructions.
We’re ready, Athee called.
Altering his course, Byron increased his speed. The planes lagged for a moment before catching up to the fighter. Smiling as they approached the first narrow valley, he prepared to enjoy himself. Istaner wouldn’t be bored now!
Banking to his left, Byron slipped into the valley. The mountains flashed by in a blur of red and gold. The walls drew closer and the canyon began to twist and turn. Byron reduced his speed, aware the planes were incapable of performing such tight maneuvers at their current pace. However, he didn’t want to make it too easy for the Tgren pilots. If they were to improve, they had to stretch.
Pulling up on the throttle, he altered course. The Darten shot out of the narrow valley. Glancing at the radar, Byron saw one plane totter and drop behind. Altering the ship’s trajectory, he sent the Darten into a nosedive. Another plane missed the mark and fell behind, but the others managed to stay with the Cassan fighter.
Selecting a deep valley, he reduced speed. The Darten slipped in between the sandy cliffs. One airplane came in too fast and dropped close to the canyon’s surface. Byron breathed a sigh of relief as the pilot corrected his course. Flying near the valley’s peaks, he continued following the erratic pattern as it sliced across the plains. Several planes faltered, pulling above the mountainous ridges to avoid impact before returning to formation, and one aircraft gave up entirely.
Byron was enjoying the chase, but he needed to push the Tgren pilots harder. Pulling out of the valley, he gained altitude. The open air beckoned like the vast expanse of space. Now he could demonstrate the maneuverability of the Darten without the risk of sending a plane into the side of a mountain.
Reining in his speed, Byron ran through his standard drill. He led the planes on a wild chase across the sky, always remaining several lengths in front of his pupils. One by one, the Tgren vessels dropped behind, unable to keep pace with his tight turns. He grinned when the third plane missed a turn and was forced to give up the chase. Istaner wasn’t so skilled after all.
Swinging wide, he visually confirmed that only two planes remained. Athee still clung to his tail and he believed the second ship belonged to Erenta. The most capable of the seven pilots, he was not surprised they were the only ones to match his maneuvers.
Athee’s triumphant cry echoed in his mind. You couldn’t shake me!
Byron smiled. He had one remaining trick. Oh yeah?
Touching the teleporter, he jumped the ship. Reappearing behind the second plane, Byron chuckled as both aircraft’s flights wavered.
Gotcha! he announced.
You teleported. That’s not fair.
Laughing at her angry retort, Byron accelerated and shot over both planes. Within seconds, they were but specks in the sky.
Byron!
Performing a tight roll, he circled around. You wanted to see what the Darten could do, he offered. Displaying the power and agility of his fighter wasn’t the only reason for his antics, but it provided an excuse. The Tgren pilots needed to be reminded of the superior technology of the Cassan fleet.
He flew past the planes and they pivoted to follow. That concludes today’s lesson, he told Athee, leading the Tgrens toward Ktren. I’ll see you this afternoon.
You bet you will, Athee replied, annoyance evident in her mental voice.
Byron chuckled. He rose higher while the Tgren planes continued on to the city. His eyes strayed to the lead plane. Athee would be difficult this afternoon if he didn’t pacify her now.
You flew well, he thought as he tapped into the teleporter. She didn’t respond, but his compliment had the desired effect of curtailing her irritation.
He returned to the Rennather in high spirits. As he was leaving the hanger, Byron almost ran into Mevine. The young man tried unsuccessfully to prevent his pack from falling yet somehow managed to hang on to the box in his hands.
“Officer Byron, I’m sorry,” he cried, struggling to maintain hold of the box.
Byron scooped the bag from the floor and held it out for Mevine. “That’s all right. I didn’t expect to see you on the Rennather again so soon.”
Mevine nodded and took the pack from Byron, slinging the bag across his shoulders. “I had to return for some clean clothes and new equipment. I’m sorry, I was trying to catch the shuttle before it departed.”
Frowning, Byron glanced over his shoulder. The second shuttle was nowhere in sight. “I think you missed it.”
Mevine stepped forward and scanned the hanger, his mouth open in horror. “I tried to hurry,” he said, adjusting the pack when it threatened to fall off his shoulders. “I need to get back to the site this afternoon.”
“Garnce will take you to the planet’s surface when he returns.”
The young man’s face fell. “He’ll be so mad,” he murmured.
Byron had no doubt Garnce would offer a few choice words on the matter. His fellow pilot possessed little patience. The lad’s expression suggested he’d already tangled once with the pilot and didn’t care to repeat the experience. Byron realized he felt sorry for the science officer. The least he could do was save Mevine from Garnce’s wrath.
“You’re welcome to catch a ride with me after the midday meal,” he offered.
Mevine’s eyes widened. “Really, sir?”
“Sure, it’s not a problem. Have you eaten?”
When Mevine shook his head, Byron held out his hand. “Let’s store your gear first and then grab a bite to eat,” he said, relieving Mevine of his bag before it tumbled again from his bony shoulder.
The boy attacked his food with relish. Byron wondered if Mevine had eaten at all today. No wonder he’s so scrawny, he thought as the plate emptied. Someone needs to monitor his food consumption.
Eventually Mevine’s food no longer vanished at an alarming rate. Byron asked the science officer of his progress with the alien language. The lad’s expression brightened and he launched into a detailed account. His enthusiasm bubbled forth as he explained a recent breakthrough and potential deciphering of the language. Mevine appeared happiest when discussing his work. While Byron was unable to comprehend the particulars of language interpretation, he understood Mevine’s passion. Flying was Byron’s primary infatuation, and the only thing that caused his pulse to quicken.
“I need to retrieve another flight suit from my quarters,” Byron announced as they exited the dining hall. “Should only take a minute.”
Taking the nearest telepod, he led Mevine to the officers’ level. Byron entered his quarters and moved toward his long locker. He glanced at his computer screen. No messages awaited his attention. Over the years, he’d lost contact with most of his comrades, but on occasion he received messages from Ernx and Nintal. The last time he’d seen his former squad members, Nintal had achieved the position of squadron leader. The navigator and his pilot were starting a new assignment on another flagship. Byron couldn’t help but speculate about his own rank had he remained a Cosbolt pilot. Without his navigator, that would forever remain a mystery.
He noticed Mevine hovering outside the door. “You may enter,” said Byron, opening his locker.
The thin door clattered against the wall and Byron reached for a flight suit. Only one suit remained, a testament to his lack of clean clothes. I need to bring my dirty laundry next trip, he tho
ught, folding the suit over his arm.
Closing the door, Byron discovered Mevine peering at the photo by his computer. He’d forgotten the framed picture resided in plain sight. Byron hesitated, unsure how to respond to the situation. Mevine straightened his shoulders and glanced around the room. The young man’s eyes fell on Byron and he snapped to attention.
“I’m sorry, sir, I was only looking,” he said, his words tumbling across his tongue. “Is that, I mean, was that your navigator?”
Byron nodded. “Yes.”
Mevine glanced again at the photo. “You were really young.”
“That was taken on the Sorenthia, so I was probably a year or two younger than you are now.”
Turning to face him, Mevine raised his chin. “He must’ve meant a lot to you.”
Spoken in earnest, those words stirred Byron’s emotions. His gaze traveled to the photo as he recalled the man who’d changed his life. His former navigator had believed in him until the end. He’d never find a friend like Bassa again.
“He was closer than a brother,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry, sir,” offered Mevine.
Sensing sympathy from the scientist, Byron cut off his thoughts and raised his personal shields. “Shall we go?” he said, gesturing toward the door.
The other shuttle returned as Byron was preparing to depart. He exchanged greetings with Garnce, but refrained from mentioning the passenger aboard his ship. The pilot complained that demanding science officers were cutting into his meals and Byron chuckled. Garnce deserved the aggravation.
In the co-pilot’s seat, Mevine sighed. “Thank you again, sir,” he said, brushing aside his unkempt hair.
“No problem,” Byron replied, increasing speed as the ship left the hanger.
The lad sank further into his seat. “I wish I was closer to my brother,” he said, fidgeting with his harness. “We don’t have anything in common though.”
CassaFire Page 8
