CassaStorm (18 page)

The room erupted in protest. Byron lowered his head, shielding his mind against the onslaught of fury and indignation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he sensed Athee’s touch. Amidst the anger and confusion, Byron recalled a moment not twenty years past when Tgren faced a similar fate. He could still see Orellen’s face as the former prefect handed Athee over to him for safekeeping, aware that the rest of his people would likely die. Lifting his head, Byron glanced at Ubarce seated beside him. The man’s eyes contained the look of determination and he offered a nod of support. That was all Byron needed.

“Prefects, I know this is difficult,” he said, raising his voice over the angry protests.

The room fell silent. Byron pushed away from the table and stretched to his full height.

“I have secured the exploration ship Doorthmore for evacuations. It will arrive three days before the probe and can carry an additional two hundred people.”

“Two hundred?” someone shouted. “That’s it?”

“Two hundred aboard the Doorthmore!” Byron said, retaliating with his mental voice as well. “Another hundred and twenty aboard the Nacinta. If I can convince High Command to allow just one other flagship to remain, that will be another six hundred plus. And five thousand or more can take refuge in the alien ship as well.”

“How long could we survive in there?” said Enteller, his lips pulled back in a sneer.

“The alien ship is fully functional with its own life support. Sealed from the inside and protected by the mountain, you’ll easily survive a year or more if need be.”

“But what about the others? We just leave them on the surface to die?” an older man asked.

“Your planet has several extensive caverns,” replied Byron, aware it was a poor alternative. “They might provide enough protection if the storm is short-lived.”

“What about those across the great lake?” said a prefect at the far end of the table.

“They won’t listen,” another prefect growled.

Anchore slammed his fist on the table. “After they attacked us years ago? I say let them die.”

“But they are Tgrens,” said Ubarce, leaning forward in earnest.

“We will send ships to warn them,” Byron said in a loud voice before an argument started. “Just as we have warned our enemies.”

Enteller guffawed, his lips pulled back in disgust. “After what they did yesterday?”

“Prefects, I would like nothing more than to see the Vindicarn numbers reduced,” said Byron, his gaze meeting Athee’s for a moment. “However, we need every race working on a solution, which is why we are asking for a ceasefire.”

“If the war activated the probe, will the ship stop if a ceasefire is declared?” said Ubarce, eyes wide with hope.

Leaning forward, Byron tapped his computer pad. “We are working under that assumption. If the races can come to an agreement and declare peace, we’d just need a way to communicate that to the probe. My science officer said there is an encoded signal sent out by the alien ship that must also be answered. They are working to locate that coded reply.”

Scanning Mevine’s latest report as he spoke, Byron noted no new developments. He hadn’t expected a breakthrough in the last hour, although it would’ve added a measure of hope to today’s meeting. Mevine’s team was working as fast as possible. Byron could only pressure them so much; however, time wasn’t on their side.

Several men moaned and angry murmurs erupted around the table. Byron decided to take control before chaos ensued.

“Prefects, I do not want a mass panic,” he said, projecting his voice to silence the group. “I will not have the resources to enforce peace in every city if that happens. We need to keep the population calm and begin planning now–the actual evacuation doesn’t need to begin for several days.”

“How long did you say before the probe arrives?” someone asked.

“At its current speed, eleven days,” said Byron.

“I’d need to start evacuations within the next two days,” said one of the prefects, his words punctuated with a gasp. “The only caves capable of holding the bulk of my people are six days away.”

“Each of you will need to make your own decision as to when to evacuate.” Byron placed his hands behind his back. “Those traveling on the Nacinta and Doorthmore will need to be here in seven days.”

“Who gets to go?”

Enteller’s mocking tone caused Byron to frown at the man. If forced to evacuate, Byron would not miss the prefect one bit.

“In order to preserve the diversity of your people, you are each to select a dozen people from your city. It should be an even mix of men and women and the sharpest, most talented you have to offer. And,” he said, squeezing his fingers behind his back in anticipation of the objections, “no one over forty.”

The requirements caused a ripple of protests, both verbal and mental, across the table. Accusations of prejudice and unfair advantages flew at Byron and the mood of the room plummeted further. One spark of sorrow penetrated the onslaught and he glanced at his mate. His own thoughts were shielded, but he didn’t need to connect with Athee to realize she was upset her uncle didn’t qualify.

There are still twenty slots open
, he told her in a private thought.
I will do everything I can to ensure Orellen is on the Nacinta with us. If I can gain passage for your cousin and his family, I will make certain they are as well.

Athee nodded, the back of her hand brushing at one eye.

Scanning the room, Byron decided he’d had enough of the confusion. “Do you want to ensure your race survives or are you just looking to save your own skins?”

Delivered in a booming voice, Byron’s question brought silence. The prefects altered between staring at him and one another, casting accusing glances.

“Those are the conditions,” he continued, scooping his tablet from the table. “We all have a lot of work to do in the next eleven days. Our shuttles will be available on a limited basis for the next week. If you require assistance, contact Officer Athee. I will keep you updated as the situation develops. In the meantime, prepare for evacuation, maintain the peace, and send Officer Athee your twelve selections as soon as possible.”

Byron stepped away from the table and refrained from making a dash for the door. Several conversations began at once, and the prefects rose to their feet one by one. Byron caught Ubarce’s eye before the man departed.

Fill your twelve slots wisely and do not include yourself
, he thought.
Your family’s place is already reserved.

Ubarce acknowledged Byron’s request, his thoughts still skeptical. Byron harbored no doubts though. After dealing with the prefects during the past two weeks, he could think of no better man to lead the remaining Tgrens. If the probe destroyed the planet’s surface, and those in the caves and alien ship were lost, Ubarce would find himself the leader of three hundred and twenty-eight full-blooded Tgrens. Byron hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

After fielding a few more questions, the room thinned and Byron was able to escape. He’d ignored the grumbles and murmurs as the prefects departed, aware that several of the men reviled his decisions. Once in the hallway and away from the hostility, Byron let his long strides and heavy steps pound out some of his frustration. The prefects had no idea how hard he’d worked to acquire the Doorthmore just so more Tgrens could be saved.

Athee fell in step beside him, the sound of her boots striking the floor in rapid succession as she attempted to keep up with her mate. Her mind remained closed, which was a relief to Byron. He checked his messages as they strode toward his office, leery of who else might be vying for his attention. Only the message from the Doorthmore remained unanswered. Byron composed a quick note while they walked and sent it just as they stepped into his office.

Setting down his tablet, Byron leaned against the desk to gather his thoughts. His gaze drifted to the far corner and a form lying under a blanket on the floor.

I’m sorry,
thought Athee, moving to his side.
I didn’t have time to take him home after we visited medical. He was so tired, I knew he’d just fall asleep.

Byron nodded, his eyes on the stock of black hair protruding from under the blanket. The rest of Bassan lay hidden, including his feet. The entrance of his parents hadn’t disturbed his son, and the blanket rose and fell in a gentle, even rhythm.

If he slept at all last night it was only for a few hours,
she thought.

I don’t think any of us slept well
, thought Byron. He turned to face his mate.
Athee, there are still several open slots. I will see to it your uncle is on board one of those ships.

His mate reached out to touch him and hesitated, tears in her eyes. Athee’s mind churned in turmoil, the direness of the situation taking hold in a mad rush. Byron grabbed her hand and pulled his mate closer. He couldn’t offer much comfort, but he had to calm the distraught creature in his arms. Her shallow breath filled his ears; the only evidence of her tears.

Byron closed his eyes and let the silence of the moment settle his own nerves. The past two weeks had beaten at his senses and run him ragged. He just didn’t have the same endurance anymore.

Don’t know how you did it during the Vindicarn War, Bassa, he thought as memories of his fallen navigator filled his head.

Athee stirred and Byron released her. He waited while she composed herself and straightened her uniform. Meeting his gaze, she lifted her chin and offered a nod of thanks. Byron reached for her hand.

Did medical clear you?

Yes,
she thought. Athee glanced at Bassan.
And after last night’s horrible nightmares, I took Bassan with me so they could examine him. No, they didn’t delve into his mind, but the medical officer talked to him for a few minutes and finally suggested a sedative to help him sleep.

It wasn’t ideal, but Byron had grown tired of the nightly ritual.
If it gets him through the night, it’s worth a try,

It’s not a permanent solution though.

No, but we need to get through our current crisis first.

Athee squeezed his fingers.
Only three hundred and twenty?

That number seemed so small now, but it was far greater than the nine Tgrens residing on the base with Cassan mates. Byron knew the Tgren race wouldn’t have a chance otherwise.

I had to really pull some strings to acquire the Doorthmore,
he thought.
But it’s better than the hundred and twenty extra the Nacinta will hold. And certainly more Tgrens than we took from the surface last time.

That elicited a faint smile from his mate.
And you had to drag me into that shuttle.

The tablet on Byron’s desk chirped the arrival of another message. With a moan, he picked it up and stared at the screen.

Enteller,
he thought with disgust.
He can wait a moment.

I’ll try to intercept any further messages
, thought Athee, releasing his hand.

Byron helped rouse Bassan and got the boy to his feet. Athee led their son from the room, his gait wobbly and slow. Byron watched them leave and wished he could join Bassan in a long nap. His tablet chirped again just as the door closed.

“Yes, Enteller!” he said, seizing the computer pad. Collapsing into his chair, Byron touched the screen.

I wonder if the aliens would accept you as a sacrifice? he thought.

Dropping onto the long couch, Byron scrolled through the options on his computer pad. He yawned and shook his head.

I shouldn’t have bothered going to bed for a few hours, he thought. But by the time this ends, it will be close to dawn anyway.

Locating the correct feed, he pulled up the image. The swirling blues and greens of Arell filled the screen. A gentle haze covered the planet, like wisps of mist rising from water in the morning. Arell had long held the mystique as a place of peace, as had her people. The fair-skinned race even appeared cool with neutral flesh tones, almost to the point of a pale blue frost. Arellens were slow to anger, as evidenced by a history of tolerance. However, the race possessed the strongest weapons in the galaxy. Byron had only witnesses the Blueseth weapon once. That was enough to know he never wanted to be on receiving end of such power.

The view pulled back and Byron’s chest tightened. The silent death march of the probe continued as the vessel drew closer to Arell. He stared at the alien ship in morbid fascination. The device was the same craft that had threatened the Tgrens twenty years ago. From the angle of the feed, he could even see the indention near the nose that housed the scanner. He and Athee had hovered in that indention, enticing it to scan her mind and confirm the development of Tgren mental powers.

What are you scanning for this time? he thought, gripping both edges of his computer pad. If we establish peace, how do we convince you?

Tapping the screen, he brought up the conversation feed. The ongoing discussion recorded between those still on Arell and a nearby Arellen battle cruiser, the text displayed below the main image. Those on the ship confirmed a few stragglers continued to flee the planet despite the proximity of the probe. Byron tried to focus on the exchanges, but the sight of the silent alien device approaching Arell continued to steal his attention. In nine days, it would descend upon Tgren with no mercy for her people.

Reaching out, he touched his senior science officer’s mind.
Mevine, I’m watching the feed now.

Commander! Very good,
Mevine’s mental voice crackled with energy.

How can you be so alert at this hour? Byron thought, rubbing his tired eyes.

Sir, we’re recording every transmission from Arell. They are sending out numerous feeds.

We?

Yes, sir. Five of us are here in the lab.

Sliding down farther on the couch, Byron shook his head. Mevine’s crew was dedicated. That included the two Tgren scientists who worked closely with his senior officer. Byron made a mental note to place both men on the list for evacuation. Their brilliance shouldn’t be lost.