Good! he thought, pulling away from the ship.
Swinging wide, Byron flew past the engines. Athee had a quick look at the rear of the ship before stars filled their view once more.
That was incredible! she thought, allowing her delight to radiate into his mind.
Let’s do it again then.
They made another pass over the Firenta. This time Byron darted in between the higher structures of the flagship. Athee felt the sharp motion as their Cosbolt tilted from side to side. On the outside, the movement of the simulator seemed rough. Inside the cockpit, their flight was smooth. She cried out with delight as he completed another pass.
This time, you select our course, he thought.
Me?
Yes. I’m going to maintain a constant altitude and you tell me the path to follow.
Athee took a deep breath. I’ll do my best.
Don’t worry, I won’t let us crash, he thought with a sense of amusement. And I’ll keep the speed slow and steady.
Flying low, Byron made another approach. Athee could see the uneven landscape of the ship and it looked like an obstacle course. Tearing her attention from the real view, she focused on her navigational screen. Noting a large bulk rising in their path, she suggested he veer left. Byron obliged and the Cosbolt flew around the tower of metal. Plotting their course, she navigated them through the obstructions, relying only on her display. Byron followed her direction with ease. They emerged into open space once more.
I did it! Athee thought, the knots in her shoulder muscles loosening.
Just like flying through those canyons, Byron replied.
Except you’re the one flying.
You were navigating, so we were both flying.
Athee grinned, pleased with that assessment. It must be wonderful to share this experience with another. Still connected with Byron’s mind, she sensed a fleeting thought of regret.
Byron circled around and soon the landing bay came into view. Now let’s land this ship.
Athee doubted she had much to do with the actual landing, but the Cosbolt entered the bay at the correct angle and speed. Byron touched down the runners and reversed the engines. Immediately the ship’s speed decreased. It came to rest on a marked panel. The systems shut down and the view vanished from sight.
Now you’ve flown in a Cosbolt, he announced as the canopy retracted.
And you’ve finally flown one again, Athee thought, shielding her words from Byron.
Byron emerged first and assisted her out of the simulator. He helped Athee with the helmet and pulled the device from her head. Free from her confines, she flashed him a bright smile.
“That was incredible,” she announced, still giddy from the flight.
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
Athee grasped his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. If we die tomorrow, at least I got to share that joy with you.”
Byron cocked one eyebrow. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
They returned to the shuttle. Byron confirmed the crate of requested Darten parts resided in the cargo hold before joining her in the cockpit. He slumped into the pilot’s seat and leaned his shoulder against the backrest. Athee swiveled to face him.
“What’s going to happen tomorrow?” she said. The joy of the simulator ride was now fading and the weight of approaching doom filled Athee’s mind.
Byron sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Depends on if the other flagships can turn away the alien ship. Or if our scientists find a way to stop it.”
“And if they can’t?” she said, rubbing her fingers together.
“Then we’ll have to prepare for the worst.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. Her entire world might cease to exist tomorrow. It was all happening too fast.
“A year ago, we didn’t even know there were others out there,” she said, mulling over the rapid changes. “Now we’re about to have ships filling our skies.”
“I’m sorry,” Byron offered, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I suspect your people would be better off if they’d never met us.”
Athee frowned at that thought. “No we wouldn’t. Eventually, we would’ve discovered that alien site and poked around until we blew up the control room on our own. Then no one would be here to help us.”
Dropping her hands to her lap, she forced her face to brighten. “And I wouldn’t have met you.”
He returned her smile, an unusual gleam in his eyes. To Athee’s surprise, he reached over and grasped her hand. Clasping it with both hands, Byron rubbed her fingers with his thumb, his gaze transfixed on the process. Lifting his chin, he met her eyes. His mind unshielded, Byron’s thoughts projected affection. Her emotions stirred, grasping at the possibility that he cared for her as well. They were now close enough to kiss. Athee held her breath, waiting for him to make the first move.
Byron’s eyes unfocused and he leaned back. “Our passengers are returning,” he announced, releasing her hand. “Go ahead and fasten in.”
Concealing her disappointment, she reached for her harness. Why couldn’t they enjoy just five more minutes of privacy?
Byron stepped out to greet his passengers. Athee secured her harness, her fingers fumbling with the straps. She glanced out the cockpit window. Her uncle was deep in conversation with the commander, and judging from his rapid hand movements, he was agitated. Reaching out to touch his mind, she discovered a whirlwind of thoughts. Unable to focus on a single topic, Athee crossed her arms in indignation. The conference’s resolution would have to wait until they reached the surface.
Byron transported his passengers to the Rennather first. Before the commander departed, Korden told Byron he was to return after dropping off the prefect. Athee contemplated joining her uncle in the main compartment, but stayed in her seat. Her curiosity remained, and she listened again for her uncle’s mind. Now that he was no longer engaged in conversation, his thoughts were clearer. Her fingers wrapped around the armrests when she caught the word “evacuation.”
Byron slid into his seat and Athee turned at once to the pilot. We’re evacuating Ktren? she demanded. The proposition of moving the entire population to another location seemed daunting.
Yes, he thought. No one is to remain.
But where will we go?
I believe your uncle has selected a location.
She caught his disturbed thoughts and found it difficult not to press for more details. Fighting her growing impatience, Athee bit her lip in frustration. She wanted answers.
Byron wasted no time returning to Tgren. The moment the shuttle touched the ground, Athee unfastened her harness. She dashed into the main compartment and confronted her uncle.
“We’re evacuating? To where?”
Orellen removed his harness and rose to his feet. “To the foothills of the Red Canyons,” he said.
“The Red Canyons?” she cried. “The Dven Caves are closer.”
“We could not house the city’s population in those caves,” Orellen stated, moving toward the open hatch. “Nor do we want to be below ground.”
“Do you realize how long that will take?”
“Yes, I do! Which is why we must begin at once.”
The prefect exited the craft, his long strides carrying him down the ramp in two steps. The guard followed, but Athee paused at the open hatch. She pivoted on her heels and faced Byron. The pilot’s expression exhibited stoic resolution. Despite the urgency of the situation, she was reluctant to leave his presence.
Byron grasped her shoulder. Go. We’ve a lot to accomplish today.
Athee nodded, feeling numb. She exited the craft, her heavy steps kicking dust as she crossed the flight line. Moving everyone in Ktren to the Red Canyon was a monumental task. It would require dozens upon dozens of flights to transfer the population. She and the other pilots would spend every hour flying, probably right up until the alien ship arrived.
Jolted by the reality of that thought, she paused to watch t
he departing shuttle. Byron, will I see you before…? she thought, tears coming to her eyes as the ship lifted into the sky.
Yes, he answered. I promise.
Clutching her fists at her side, Athee closed her eyes. As long as she would enjoy his company again, she’d maintain hope.
Chapter Fourteen
Byron returned to the surface with Officer Seheller and a regiment of security officers. Once the prefect announced the evacuation, including the reason behind the order, there could be trouble. Korden wanted to ensure their people and equipment were removed without incident.
Officer Seheller ordered his team to begin packing equipment. Little remained at the alien site and the only Cassans present were a small security team. Garnce was to drop off reinforcements before flying to the city to assist with the evacuation. Judging from the amount of people and equipment in the Cassan facility, Byron suspected it would take all day.
When he asked Seheller who was returning to the Rennather on the first flight, the man offered a short list.
“I need as many strong backs as I can get to pack all of this equipment,” Seheller explained, placing items in a padded crate.
“I’m adding one more to your list then,” Byron replied.
He searched the downstairs offices until he located Mevine. He was struggling to set a heavy piece of equipment into a sturdy case. Byron came to his rescue and slid the machine into place.
“What’s yours?” Byron demanded, fastening the case.
“Well, I was using this translator,” Mevine stammered, placing a hand on the case and glancing around the room. “And of course there’s my personal computer pad.”
“That’s it?”
Mevine blinked. “Technically, yes.”
Byron grasped the handle and hoisted the heavy case. “Grab your computer pad and follow me,” he ordered.
Without waiting to ensure Mevine would comply, he exited the room. The whole building buzzed with activity. Several men brushed past him in the hallway, their bodies uncomfortably close. Byron reached the foot of the stairs and glanced behind him. As expected, Mevine followed the pilot.
“Where are we going?” the young man asked as they ascended the stairway.
“To our room to pack.”
Reaching the second floor, Byron grabbed the door handle to his room and pushed hard. Bursting into his quarters, he set the case by the door and reached for his bag.
“But there’s so much equipment to organize,” Mevine protested.
Byron threw open the doors to a small wardrobe and reached for his flight suits. “Yes, and Officer Seheller wants the strongest to remain to pack. Which means you’re leaving on the first flight.”
A flash of indignation erupted from Mevine. “I can still help!”
Tossing his suits on the bed, Byron whirled and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “Mevine!” he said in a voice meant to illicit total compliance. The lad might want to stay and help, but their cause was better served with Mevine working to find a solution from the safety of the Rennather.
“The Tgrens are going to panic when they hear of the alien ship. They may turn on us. Do you understand?”
Mevine’s mouth opened. He stared at Byron. Obviously, the thought of a Tgren riot had not crossed his mind. Pressing his lips together, the young man nodded. Byron eased his grip on Mevine’s shoulders and calmed the agitated thoughts in the boy’s head.
“I want to be sure you reach the Rennather safely, all right?” he asked, his tone less severe.
“Yes, sir,” Mevine answered.
Patting his right arm, Byron released Mevine. “Now come on, we need to pack.”
With only one good arm, Mevine could not carry both his bag and the case. Byron handed over his lightest bag, confirming his friend could carry it before shouldering the other two. Grabbing the heavy case, he ushered Mevine into the hall and surveyed the room one final time. Satisfied they had gathered all personal belongings, he closed the door. Byron followed Mevine down the stairs.
Officer Seheller, how long before the first load is ready for transport? he thought.
One cart is almost full, the man replied. The officers will be ready in a moment.
The sound of a siren pricked his ears. Byron picked up the pace, his rapid footsteps prompting Mevine to move faster. The wailing siren grew louder as they reached the exit. The lonely and desperate cry rang throughout the streets of Ktren. His nerves jangled in response to the sound.
One cart was already full of equipment. Byron directed Mevine to the second cart, noting the passage of several running Tgrens. The street bustled with activity as people and carts moved with purpose. Fear hung heavy in the air. Byron used it to fuel his adrenaline. He needed to be alert and prepared for anything.
A small battalion of Tgren guards arrived just as three science officers joined them. One of the men conferred with a Cassan guard before ordering his troops to surround the carts. Byron shoved Mevine onto the cart and took the seat beside him. Once the other Cassans were settled, he told the man driving the cart to depart.
The procession plodded through the streets of Ktren. Their speed was hampered by the presence of Tgrens scurrying to reach their destination, many driving similar carts. The siren continued to wail, bringing a heavy fog of unease to the otherwise pleasant city. Mevine fidgeted in his seat and Byron sensed apprehension in his young friend. He resisted the urge to calm the lad. They weren’t safe yet.
More than one Tgren flashed the Cassans a resentful scowl as they passed. An older man shouted an unintelligible threat, but he didn’t approach the carts. A stray rock flew over their heads, missing Mevine by a hair. Byron didn’t catch sight of the perpetrator until a second rock struck the side of the bench. Their Tgren guards chased away the young man and he ducked down a side street.
The procession turned another corner, and Byron noticed several men placing boxes on a small cart. The Tgrens looked up as the first cart rolled past their position. Even at that distance, Byron could not miss their scowls.
“You brought this upon our city!” one man said, pointing at the Cassans on the second cart. The other men gathered at the Tgren’s side as he approached. “You and your damned technology, poking about in our business.”
“Stand back,” ordered a Cassan guard, placing himself between the angry men and the cart.
With an enraged cry, the Tgren who’d spoken shoved aside the guard. His companions joined in the fracas and the Cassan went to the ground. The other guards immediately moved to intervene, pulling the attackers off the fallen man.
The man who’d started the fight staggered against the side of the cart. He grasped the vehicle and looked up at the passengers. Byron’s muscles tightened as the Tgren’s gaze fell on Mevine. The man snarled at the boy and grasped the front of his shirt. Wrapping an arm around Mevine’s chest, Byron grasped the back of the seat and placed his booted heel on the man’s chest. The Tgren fell backward and only Byron’s hold on Mevine prevented his friend from tumbling to the ground as well.
The attacker leapt to his feet and Byron reached for his weapon. The sound of a laser blast, followed by Tgren gunfire, caught everyone’s attention. Byron did not turn his head, but through peripheral vision, he noted two guards with weapons pointed in the air. The man who’d seized Mevine hesitated, distracted by the sound. When his attention returned the science officer, Byron pointed his weapon at the man’s head.
“Don’t,” Byron said, his voice calm. The Tgren froze, his teeth clenched.
“All of you, move back,” ordered one of Orellen’s men, waving his weapon at the men.
Mevine’s attacker remained where he stood as the carts rolled past. Byron put away his weapon and slowly sank to his seat. Mevine sat up straighter and adjusted his tunic, his fingers trembling. Byron patted the boy’s good shoulder in assurance and turned his attention to the street.
For the most part, the presence of Orellen’s guards kept the natives at bay. It was still a tense jour
ney, lasting far longer than necessary. Byron breathed a sigh of relief when the carts rolled through an empty hanger and onto the runway.
Garnce’s shuttle sat next to Byron’s and several guards surrounded the craft. The sound of rumbling engines caught his attention. He noticed a line of small Tgren fighters rolling out of the largest hanger. He resisted the urge to confirm Athee’s presence among the pilots. Byron would worry about her safety later.
Pulling up alongside his shuttle, the men at once began to unload the carts. Byron instructed Mevine and another science officer injured in the blast to stow their gear and remain out of the way until the ship was loaded.
You can ride in the co-pilot’s seat, he told Mevine before he could protest.
Byron began grabbing equipment. The Tgrens stood guard while the Cassans unloaded the carts. Byron made three trips into the cargo hold of his shuttle before he realized Garnce had not budged from his cockpit.
Garnce, we could use your help, he thought, scowling at his fellow pilot through the cockpit window.
This is grunt work, the man replied.
Indignation rose in Byron’s chest. Get off your ass and help! That’s a direct order, pilot.
The man grumbled in protest, but rose from his seat. Byron hauled a large case to the cargo hold and secured it in place. When he returned for another load, he caught Garnce hoisting a box from the second cart. Scowling, the man carried it into his shuttle. Byron shook his head, annoyed by the pilot’s attitude. He would not tolerate apathy today.
As he secured his passengers, a commotion outside caught Byron’s attention. He glanced out the open hatch and noted two Tgrens arguing with those escorting the carts. He realized they wanted the carts and were protesting the Cassan’s use of Tgren property. The argument escalated into a shouting match within seconds. One man shoved a Cassan security officer and he stumbled back against the cart.
Alarmed, Byron emerged from his shuttle. Before anyone could intervene, two Tgren guards stepped between the man and the officer. The Cassan stood erect and faced his attacker. The Tgren lunged forward again, lips pulled into a snarl. The local guards caught the man before he could reach his intended target. Byron watched the scene unfold with a sick feeling. Tensions would only increase as the day progressed.
CassaFire Page 19
