CassaStorm (11 page)

Bassan moaned. His mother still heard his mind despite his efforts. He’d never enjoy total privacy. His mother laughed again and held him close.

You are your father’s son,
she thought, kissing the top of his head.

I wonder if father feels the same? Bassan thought, careful to shield that stray thought from his mother.

Chapter Six

Athee slid into her seat and adjusted the chair’s position. She glanced around the table as the others sat down. The mood was heavy and serious, and rightfully so. Turning her attention to Byron, his neutral expression signified to Athee that he was all business tonight. Adjusting the position of her personal tablet on the table, she waited for the meeting to commence.

“Before we begin,” said Byron, leaning forward on the table, “I want to assure all of you there has been no change in the alien ship since yesterday. All systems are online, but the ship isn’t powered for flight. We have permitted a skeleton crew of scientists to return to their stations to gather more information. Should anything change, we will notify you at once.”

“Commander, what triggered the ship’s functions?” asked a visiting prefect, his thick fingers tapping the table’s surface.

Byron’s brows came together. “We are still working on that, prefect.”

“What about the transmissions?” someone else asked.

Patience, Athee thought, hoping her mate could control his temper during this meeting. She was grateful only half of the prefects were able to attend. The number was small enough for Byron to control.

“We have confirmed ten sources,” said Byron, his voice calmer than Athee had expected. “One is located on Cassa, in a ship similar to the one here on Tgren and buried beneath a body of water. Crews are working to reach the vessel now.”

“Another vessel? Does this mean your race was an experiment similar to ours?”

Athee noted the increased tension in Byron’s mind, which matched the wrinkles across his forehead. He was having a difficult time with this new development.

“It would appear so.”

Several men murmured and the mood of the room shifted. Athee focused on the reactions, hoping to gain an advantage. She might be Tgren, but her allegiance lay with Cassa as well. And with her mate.

“We’ve pinpointed several other locations,” said Byron, his commanding voice breaking through the chatter. The men grew quiet and turned their attention to Byron. “We’ve confirmed that transmissions were sent and received from the home worlds of the Fesell, Arellens, and Narcons. The Fesell have sent word of the discovery of an alien ship on their planet as well. My senior science officer is working to confirm the other transmissions, but he believes all ten races are involved.”

Gasps of disbelief emitted from those present, and the men began urgent conversations with their neighbors. Informed of the development before the meeting, Athee understood the impact it would have on the races involved. Until today, only the Tgrens were an experiment of the alien race. Now it appeared all were seeded by the unknown entity. That would not sit well with several of the races.

“So does that mean we are all related?” one man asked, his voice rising above the others.

“It is a possibility,” said Byron, his fingers tapping on the table.

A burst of indignation from the man beside her caused Athee to jump.

“Are you saying we are related to the races that attacked our cities?” Enteller demanded.

“We’ve not confirmed that, but it is a possibility.”

Enteller uttered an expletive and sank back into his chair. His brief moment of interest was replaced with apathy once again and his gaze drifted to the table’s surface.

“Prefect Enteller,” said Byron with a scowl of disgust, “believe me, the last thing any Cassan wants to hear is he’s related to the Vindicarn. We’ve warred with that race for years, losing many good men in the process. Our scientists are working on that theory.”

“Well,” said Anchore, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “We might all be seeded races, but I find a physical relationship hard to believe, not to mention repulsive.”

Athee’s mouth opened, stung by the man’s callous words. How dare he make such an ignorant, sweeping statement? She managed to hold her tongue and turned to Byron for his response.

Leaning back in his chair, Byron raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fact?” he said. “I believe the children of Cassan-Tgren pairings support the theory that our races are similar and quite possibly related.”

The man’s arms dropped and he cast a wary glance in Athee’s direction. She clenched her fists under the table, trying not to scowl in response. To her credit, she was partially successful.

“Other races have paired as well, although it is rare,” said Byron, shifting the attention away from Athee. “I agree a strong physical connection between all ten races is unlikely. Where our enemies are concerned, no connection is preferred. In the meantime, the reason for the revival of the alien ships, and the transmissions sent, is far more pressing.”

“They still don’t know what caused it?” said Ubarce.

Byron shook his head. “If they can transcribe the transmissions, we might find an answer. Unlike the previous transmission, these were an exchange of data rather than just a single message.”

“What if the probe returns?” someone asked.

Athee shot Byron an alarmed look, her muscles tense. The alien vessel had sought to confirm the development of the Tgren’s mental powers twenty years ago. Athee recalled the searing pain in her head when the probe scanned her mind, and her scalp itched at the memory. Satisfied with its findings, the ship had returned to deep space. What would it seek if it appeared again?

“We’ll deal with that situation when and if it occurs,” said Byron. “Right now we are more interested in the reason for the alien ship’s resurgence to full power. Our scientists have returned to the site, and work will also begin on Cassa once they have gained access to the ship. The Fesell entered their ship this morning. They will keep us updated on their progress.”

“But will you keep us updated?” Anchore demanded. “We joined your alliance and deserve to know what is happening.”

Byron’s mood shifted to one of irritation and Athee hoped she was the only one to detect his anger. She fidgeted in her seat, hesitant to touch his mind. The commander might be her mate, but Athee didn’t possess the authority to interfere.

“We will keep you abreast of developments as they occur,” said Byron, his voice strained but calm. “Since I am currently pressed for time, updates will be sent to all of you at least twice a day. If there is breaking news, my liaison officer will contact you directly.”

They pester me often enough anyway, Athee thought. She leaned forward and glanced around the table. Several prefects met her gaze and appeared to be satisfied with the arrangement.

“If there are no further questions,” said Byron, straightening his back, “I need to meet with my senior scientist. We will notify you if he’s discovered anything new.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said Prefect Ubarce.

A couple others offered words of appreciation. Athee suspected it wasn’t a sentiment shared by all, but no further objections surfaced as the men rose to depart. Slipping out of her chair, Athee found herself confronted with questions from concerned prefects. Her progress to the exit was slow and she grew impatient when she noticed Byron leave the room. Fielding two more questions, Athee excused herself and darted out the door before anyone else stopped her.

Nodding at the security officers waiting to escort the prefects to the hangar, she began a fast trot down the hall. Rounding two corners, Athee finally caught up with Byron.

You were quick to escape
, he thought as she fell in beside him.

Not as quick as you!

Byron glanced at her.
I know my limit. I wanted to end that conference before someone suggested we were to blame for the situation with the alien ship. I heard that accusation enough twenty years ago.

Is that why you didn’t tell them the ship accessed information from the science officer’s computer?

Yes
, thought Byron.
If they knew
of the connection between the ship’s resurgence of power and their signing a declaration of war, I’d never hear the end of it.

Athee’s indignation returned.
How dare Anchore imply our union, and the son it produced, is repulsive!

Not all Tgrens are willing to accept the mixing of our races.

Nor all Cassans! Did you know the other children tease Bassan, calling him a half-breed?

Byron’s pace slowed.
No, I didn’t. He told you that?

No, I overheard his thoughts after we visited my uncle. He’s kept it hidden out of guilt.

They reached the central lab’s door and Byron turned to face her.
Guilt?

Allowing her arms to drop to her sides, Athee raised her chin and met his gaze.
He’s ashamed that the commander’s son can’t stand up to them and defend his honor.

Byron’s controlled expression didn’t change, but his emotions churned within his mind. Before Athee could form a lock on one particular thought, Byron slammed his hand against the press plate. The lab door opened and he entered the room at great speed. Athee had to move quickly to keep up with his long strides.

They found Mevine at the central station. The scientist’s fingers moved over two keypads at once, his gaze on the center computer screen. He glanced over his shoulder as they approached. Punching a few more keys on each pad, Mevine sat up straight.

“Commander, we have the location of nine of the transmissions now,” he announced.

“The remaining races’ home worlds?” said Byron.

Mevine nodded. “We can even pinpoint the exact location on each planet.”

“Send me the information so I can forward it to High Command. They can confirm the presence of alien ships with the Charren and Arellens.”

“Sir, how will we verify that information with our enemies?”

Byron’s brows came together. “I’m going to let High Command worry about that.”

“We need to confirm the existence of an alien ship at every location,” said Mevine. He propped up his elbow on the station and rubbed his right temple. “We ought to have every race working on this problem.”

“I doubt the Vindicarn will put the war aside just to analyze an old alien ship for us.”

Mevine moaned and covered his eyes. “You’re probably right.”

Noting his drooping posture, Athee reached for his arm. His thin limb trembled under her fingertips.

“Mevine, you need to get some rest tonight,” she said, concerned he would work himself to death. Driven by curiosity and a transparent desire to please his commander, Mevine often pushed himself too far.

“There’s still so much work to be done…” Mevine said, glancing at the computer screens.

“What about the tenth transmission?” said Byron.

Surprised by his indifference to Mevine’s condition, Athee released the man’s arm and stared at Byron. His gaze remained locked on the senior scientist.

Spinning his stool to face Byron, Mevine’s hands dropped to his lap. “Sir, that transmission went into deep space.”

Misgiving flooded Athee’s body like a heat flash and she almost dropped her tablet.

“Which direction?” said Byron.

Mevine swallowed hard. “In the same direction it did twenty years ago.”

Athee gasped and brought an involuntary hand to her mouth. The signal went out to the probe. Fear tightened across her chest, threatening to choke the air out of her lungs. Athee turned to her mate, desperate for a word of comfort.

Byron’s chin rested on his chest, his eyelids closed. Athee tried to touch his mind, but his shields were locked tight, permitting no thoughts to enter or leave. She looked to Mevine, but his eyes only mirrored her apprehension.

“I wish I had better news…” Mevine said, turning his hands palm side up.

“Officer Mevine, has your team translated the transmissions?” said Byron, his voice devoid of all emotion. His head was still down but his eyes were now open.

“We’re very close, sir,” said Mevine, sitting up straight. “The same message was sent to all ten locations, although it wasn’t necessarily to activate the other ships. It contained information regarding the Tgrens themselves. We hope to decode the entire transmission within the next few hours. I’ll work all night if I have to.”

Byron’s head jerked up. “Send me the information on the transmissions’ locations at once. I expect the full translation in three hours, understand?”

Mevine nodded. “Yes, sir! I’ll get back to work at once.”

Recovering her initial shock, Athee turned to Byron. Only three hours? She feared Mevine would collapse from exhaustion. They needed the information but not at the cost of the senior scientist’s health or mental capacity.

“And if you don’t have the translation within that time frame, you are to put your best man on it and go home.”

Mevine’s entire face fell. “But sir…”

“Mevine, you are to get some rest. And yes, that is a direct order. Don’t make me enforce it.”

Athee could not recall ever having seen a more stunned expression on the science officer’s face. He managed to mumble an affirmation, his lips fumbling with the words.

She followed Byron from the lab, her own thoughts rather numb. How would they stop the alien craft this time?

I want you to inform the prefects of the nine transmissions,
Byron thought as they traversed the hallway.

Not the tenth?

They’re smart enough to realize the tenth went to the probe. I know they think they are entitled to all information, but damned if I’m going to cause a panic. Not until we know the details of the message.

Byron
, she thought, trying to gather her wits. Her insides were awash with trepidation.
If the alien ship returns, how are we going to stop it this time?