CassaFire

by Alex J. Cavanaugh

  Mevine was alone and still sitting up when she returned. His eyes revealed anxiety as she approached his bedside.

  “Feel better now?” Athee asked, noting his empty glass. “Would you like more water?”

  “I’m all right,” he murmured. “My head hurts, though.”

  She patted his arm. “I’m sure your people have better pain relievers than we do. Hopefully they’ll send some down from your ship.”

  A loud clap of thunder jolted her senses, causing her to jump. Athee’s gaze traveled to the room’s lone window. Rain beat hard against its surface, streaming down the pane in turrets. The building creaked from the wind and she shuddered. She hoped no shuttles would attempt to fly in such weather.

  She glanced around the room and noticed a small metal stool in the corner. Moving it closer to the bed, Athee sat down. Feeling drained, she allowed her body to sag. Now that the initial fervor had receded and adrenaline no longer pounded through her system, Athee was exhausted.

  Mevine opened his mouth to speak and began to cough. Athee waited until he settled before suggesting he use telepathy instead.

  You need to concentrate on breathing, not talking, she chastised.

  I’m sorry.

  Athee suppressed her amusement. The medic had cleaned his face, but Mevine’s sooty hair curled in every direction. Coupled with his thin face and large eyes, the young man’s forlorn expression bordered on comical. She decided not to injure the man’s pride as well and chose to focus on the Cassan pilot’s feelings toward his friend.

  Byron really cares about you, she offered, clasping her hands around one knee.

  Mevine’s head dropped against the pillow. I’m not sure why. Sometimes I think I annoy him.

  He can be distant. I think that’s how he deals with people. I’m sure you don’t annoy him.

  The young man plucked at his blanket with nervous fingers. The first time I met him, I was in awe. I mean, after what he did in the Vindicarn War? Officer Byron was my hero when I was young. I know I annoyed him with my questions and comments. I couldn’t even remember the name of his navigator, and I know that made him mad.

  Athee stared at Mevine in surprise. Bassa?

  Yes. He’s told you about Bassa?

  No, I caught his name once when Byron was thinking about him, she admitted, stretching her legs. When I asked, he changed the subject.

  He doesn’t like to talk about him, Mevine thought, furrowing his brows. I guess they were as close as brothers.

  He died?

  Yes, during the Vindicarn War.

  Athee pursed her lips. Is that why he no longer flies a combat fighter?

  Seheller told me Byron had promised his navigator they would pursue exploration after the war, which is why he gave up his position as Cosbolt pilot. Mevine paused and adjusted his arm. He said Byron would never fly with another navigator, either. Not after losing Bassa.

  Lowering her head, Athee contemplated Mevine’s revealing statement. Byron quit flying Cosbolts because of Bassa’s death? While she respected the promise to his deceased friend, why would someone with Byron’s skills choose to fly a shuttle? It was a lackluster duty at best. Athee was sure training inexperienced pilots in primitive machines didn’t rate high on the excitement scale either. Judging from the passionate zeal he exhibited when he flew his Darten, she surmised Byron still longed for the thrill.

  “He’s too good to give it all up,” she murmured.

  “I think so, too.”

  Mevine’s words ignited another coughing fit. His head fell back against the pillow, and Athee retrieved his empty glass.

  “Let me get you some water.”

  When she returned, Byron stood at Mevine’s bedside. Athee paused in the doorway, loath to interrupt their exchange. The pilot’s hand was wrapped around Mevine’s arm. A rare, genuine smile appeared on his face. The young man returned the gesture, his thoughts of gratitude and adoration impossible to ignore. Mevine shifted his position, his eyes falling on Athee. Reflecting curiosity, Byron turned to follow his gaze.

  “I was getting him another glass of water,” she explained as she approached the bed and handed the drink to Mevine. Athee frowned as she viewed Byron up close. “You’re soaked.”

  Byron brushed aside his damp locks. “It’s raining hard out there.” His words were punctuated by another clap of thunder.

  “It’s dangerous flying in this weather,” Athee admonished.

  He shrugged with indifference. “I carried a crew to the site before coming here with two medical officers from the Rennather. I wanted to check on Mevine first before returning to the ship to gather some equipment. The commander wants to secure the site and evaluate the situation before they begin clearing out the control center.”

  A gasp from Mevine caught their attention. “My computer pad! With all my work…” His words were cut off by another cough.

  “As soon as the crews start clearing the room, I’ll find it, Mevine,” Byron announced, patting his shoulder. “Now get some rest.”

  Byron strode toward the door. Athee followed, concerned for his safety. He might be an excellent pilot, but the storm continued to pelt the building with wind and rain. Byron?

  He paused in the doorframe, his attention flicking to the figure in the bed. Thank you for staying with Mevine. He really needs someone to watch out for him.

  Someone needs to look out for you, too.

  Byron managed a faint smile. The exchange with Mevine resurfaced in her mind and Athee placed a hand on his chest. She didn’t want to reveal her knowledge of his past, but Athee could not contain her concern for the Cassan pilot. Byron stared at her, his eyes dark and unrevealing. To her surprise, he lifted his hand. He placed it alongside her cheek, his touch gentle. Brushing her skin once with his thumb, he nodded before turning toward the stairs. Athee watched his rapid descent, feeling torn and confused. Byron vanished from sight, leaving her alone in the hallway.

  Remembering her duty, Athee returned to Mevine’s side.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What I want to know is exactly what happened yesterday!”

  Korden scowled at those present in the Rennather’s conference room. All of the senior officers were gathered, along with Ktren’s prefect. Byron had retrieved the man before the meeting and Orellen was not happy with the situation. The prefect sat at the commander’s side and across from Byron, his expression livid. Adjusting his feet, Byron tried to focus on Korden.

  The commander tapped the computer pad in front of him, his finger strokes forceful. “According to the damage report, we lost half of our equipment and three lives, including two Tgrens, in the blast. Officer Seheller, your men were only supposed to be processing data. What happened?”

  “Sir, we’ve spent the past few days translating the data as ordered,” Seheller replied, leaning forward. “One of my men was working on the main control panel with the assistance of a Tgren scientist. They were scanning the unit’s systems, trying to access the mainframe. For whatever reason, a probe was activated. It scanned Officer Detrena first before falling on the Tgren, Ullen. The man’s face twisted with pain and Detrena moved to intervene. The light from the probe vanished and Ullen dropped to the ground. The device beeped three times in warning. Before I could reach Detrena, it exploded. He didn’t survive.”

  Korden leaned back and rubbed his forehead. “Was Detrena’s computer pad recovered?”

  “Yes sir, but it was damaged. One of my men is trying to retrieve the information.”

  Byron shifted his feet again. After escorting the commander to the site and viewing the damage firsthand, he wondered if any of the equipment in the room could be salvaged. He’d located Mevine’s computer pad and delivered it to his friend, but it had sustained damage as well. Still confined to his bed, Mevine had probably stayed up half the night trying to save his data.

  “I want to know what you intend to do next,” Orellen demanded, his fist coming down on the table. “Everyone in Ktren is terrified of
another explosion that might very well take out half our population in a rockslide.”

  “Sir, I don’t think that’s a possibility,” Seheller countered, his gaze shifting to the commander. “This was an isolated incident…”

  “Isolated incident?” bellowed the prefect, his face flushing red. “Two of my men are dead!”

  “Prefect Orellen,” said Korden, his voice ringing with authority. “We are equally distressed over this incident. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday’s explosion either. I am going to maintain a full security team on site while we search for answers. Officer Seheller, your men are to exercise extreme caution. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The High Command expects a full report by tomorrow morning,” the commander announced, glancing at his computer pad. “They are contemplating sending a flagship as well, to secure the area.”

  That news surprised Byron. He wondered which flagship would grace the skies of Tgren and for how long. Perhaps he could secure replacement parts for his Darten.

  “Officer Progar, what is the status of the injured?” Korden asked, turning to the senior medical officer.

  “Two men are critical, including Ullen, whose mind is still unresponsive. The other four are recovering. On the surface, five of the men have already been released from the Ktren facility, and the other three should be discharged by tomorrow morning.” The man paused and shook his head. “Considering the condition of those we received here on the Rennather, it’s a miracle we didn’t lose more men.”

  Korden glanced at Byron. “We have the response time of our senior pilot to thank for that small mercy. Not to mention the safe transport of the injured by several pilots, including one of your own, Prefect Orellen.”

  The Tgren man nodded, although the praise appeared to do little to ease his aggravation. Byron did not look forward to the return trip to the surface.

  The commander requested further information on the items recovered from the site. Another officer filled him in on the details, giving a list of the salvaged equipment. Korden stressed again that those working the site were to proceed with caution before he dismissed the men.

  “Commander, I would like to see the remaining Tgren in your medical facility before I return to the surface,” the prefect announced as the men rose to their feet. “Ullen’s family would feel better if I confirmed his condition with my own eyes. They fear he is already dead.”

  “Of course, Prefect Orellen.”

  Byron retreated from the room, his thoughts grim. He returned to his shuttle to await the prefect. The hanger chief intercepted the pilot and informed him of additional passengers. Byron noted two scientists and a security guard on the list, all destined for the alien site. He would have to make several stops before he could visit Mevine.

  Entering his shuttle, he surveyed the condition of his ship. After a long day of ferrying men back and forth from one location to another, he’d collapsed in his quarters on Tgren late last night. Byron had forced himself to rise early this morning and scrub the streaks of blood from the shuttle floor in anticipation of the prefect’s ride to the Rennather. His ship was now clean, but he’d run out of time to visit Mevine. Byron still wanted to check on his friend.

  At least I didn’t have to clean the ship by myself, he thought, a smirk crossing his face. Athee had arrived shortly after he began and scrubbed the floor at his side. The bloodstains were a grim reminder of yesterday’s tragic event, but somehow, her presence had made the job bearable.

  Byron’s three new passengers arrived first. He helped them secure their belongings and fasten flight harnesses. The prefect had protested the confining device, transferring his fury over yesterday’s incident to the harness, his first flight into space, and at any individual within earshot. Byron hoped their return flight would be more pleasant or at least quieter.

  Orellen arrived moments later, his security guard in tow. Byron greeted the man as he entered the shuttle. The prefect hesitated, his eyes on the other three passengers. Byron caught a flicker of annoyance, which did not surprise him. It was the anxiety in the man that caught his attention. For all his irritated bluster, Orellen was afraid to ride again within the confines of the main compartment. Clenching his fists, Byron decided to offer the man something far more appealing than the cargo hold.

  “Sir, would you prefer to ride up front?” he asked, gesturing toward the cockpit. “Your niece always enjoys the view from the co-pilot’s seat.”

  Orellen cast him a suspicious look before gazing into the cockpit. Byron sensed curiosity. The prefect turned to his guard and told the man to take a seat with the others. Byron assured the Tgren was properly fastened in his harness before returning to the cockpit to assist Orellen. The man was absorbed with the view outside the main window. The prefect did not protest the restraints this time. Byron took his seat and prepared for liftoff.

  “My niece has spoken highly of your training sessions,” the prefect offered as the shuttle passed through the second set of doors.

  “She’s an outstanding pilot, sir,” said Byron, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the hanger bay.

  “Yes, she is, but I was referring to your psychic sessions together.”

  Orellen’s interest in the matter surprised him. “She has learned to master her abilities quite well, sir. Her telepathic skills are exceptional. In addition, Athee has assisted with numerous jumps and understands the concept of teleportation to my satisfaction.”

  The shuttle entered space, curving away from the Rennather. Byron reached for the teleporter and its energy pulsated in his mind. Visualizing his destination, his mental powers matched that of the unit. Byron performed the jump without error. Emerging over the valley, he heard the prefect gasp. He struggled to contain the smirk that appeared on his face. At least teleportation impressed the man.

  “My niece can do that?” Orellen asked in astonishment.

  “Yes, sir. She’s performed the maneuver on her own on many occasions.”

  The prefect shifted in his seat, his attention on Ktren as they approached the city. “Shame she’ll have no use for that talent.”

  Yeah, it is a shame, Byron thought. It would be many years before the Tgrens achieved that level of space flight.

  He dropped the prefect off first before flying to the alien ruins. Crews had set to work on cleanup this morning, and battered equipment lay strewn across the ground outside the cave entrance. At some point today, he and Garnce would return the damaged items to the Rennather. It seemed he would endure another long, hard day.

  Assuring the senior security officer that he would return soon, Byron flew to the Tgren city. If he didn’t visit Mevine this morning, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to see him until tonight.

  Byron found the young man pouring over his computer pad notes. Mevine offered a broad grin and gestured to his pad.

  “I didn’t lose any data,” he said, relief radiating from his thoughts.

  “That’s good,” Byron replied. “Considering the state of the equipment I just observed at the site, you’re fortunate.”

  “I’d noticed a similarity between the alien symbols and the Tgren’s written language. I’d entered the data and run the information through all encryption codes minutes before the explosion. I thought I’d lost all of it.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No, sir. And several of the Tgren letters match new alien symbols, so I may be on to something.”

  Byron smiled and offered his friend a nod of congratulation. He noticed a small basket on the bed beside Mevine. Peering inside, Byron realized it was full of Tgren sweets. He pointed at the basket.

  “Who brought you the treats?”

  Mevine glanced at the basket and grinned. “Athee. She said it would make me feel better.”

  And maybe put some weight on your frame, Byron thought. “That was nice of her.”

  “Want a piece?” the young man said, offering the basket to Byron.

  “No, those are for you
to enjoy.”

  Mevine leaned back against his pillow. “They said I can leave this afternoon. But no one is to stay overnight at the site. Officer Seheller said we were to seek lodging at the Cassan facility in town.”

  I wondered why there was so much activity in the building this morning, Byron thought.

  “I wish I could’ve secured a room last night,” Mevine said with a frown. “I heard it’s already three men to a room and they’re sticking latecomers in a downstairs office.”

  Byron shifted his position and exhaled a deep breath. He liked his privacy, but his friend’s plight tugged at his conscious.

  “If you need a room, you can stay in mine,” he offered.

  “Sir, I can’t do that!”

  “You’d rather sleep in an office with a dozen other men?”

  “No, but…”

  “Mevine, are you refusing the generosity of a senior officer?”

  Spoken with authority, Byron’s question had the desired effect. The young man stared at him in surprise. Mevine wrestled with the idea a moment before Byron sensed his compliance.

  “No, sir,” he murmured.

  “Good, then it’s decided.”

  Mevine’s brows came together. “Sir, I haven’t earned the right to share a room with a senior officer, certainly not one as prestigious as you.”

  Byron smiled and patted his arm. “You’re not. You’re sharing a room with a friend.”

  The tension drained from the young man’s face. He thanked Byron repeatedly.

  “I need to return to the site,” said Byron, overwhelmed by Mevine’s outpouring of emotions. “Let me know when you’re released, all right?”

  Byron returned to the alien site, his thoughts preoccupied with the young man’s reaction. Mevine soaked up friendship like he was dying of thirst. Had no one ever expressed kindness toward the boy? Had Mevine never experienced the camaraderie of a good friend?

  I didn’t have a real friend until I met Bassa, Byron thought. Considering how much that one relationship had changed his life, the least he could do was mentor Mevine.