CassaFire (5 page)

The personnel in the room stood at attention until the prefect signaled for them to resume their work. Their Tgren escort pulled two chairs together and Orellen indicated for Anceptor to take a seat. Byron stood to one side, his hands clasped behind his back. Since he was not directly involved in the conversation, he could spend time examining the room.

A woman brought them drinks, offering Byron a sweet smile. Her short hair framed a face that was wide, but proportioned for true beauty. He managed to return her smile and his gaze followed the young woman’s retreat to an alcove off the main room. Alien races weren’t high on his list of choices for female companionship; however, he might make an exception while on Tgren.

Officer Byron!

Anceptor’s commanding tone echoed through his mind. Byron returned his attention to the senior officer at once. He discovered both men staring at him and Byron realized he’d missed part of the conversation. Anceptor’s eyes displayed patience, but the prefect’s scowl threatened to burn holes in Byron’s skin.

“
Yes, sir,” he responded, focusing on his commander.

“
Officer Byron,” said Anceptor, turning to face the prefect, “is to assist Officer Illenth with the psychic testing. He is also available for the continued instruction of your best pilots.”

The prefect rolled his eyes and assumed a disinterested pose. “Psychic testing,” he grumbled, dismissing the importance of mental abilities with those words. Orellen’s angry stare fell on Byron and his lips curled in a threatening manner. “And our pilots have been fully instructed by several shuttle pilots.”

Byron shielded his indignation at the man’s attitude. Before he could speak, Anceptor responded first.

“
Prefect Orellen, I’m sure you’ve had several excellent shuttle pilots assist your fighters,” he said. “That is why I’m sure you’ll find Officer Byron’s qualifications and skill level of interest. He is a fighter pilot, fully trained on two of our military’s best ships. With over twenty years of experience and high recommendations from all commanding officers, Officer Byron is one of our best. He is also,” added Anceptor as he glanced at Byron, “a decorated war hero.”

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.