CassaStorm (19 page)

Commander, we are ready this time.

Keep me posted,
Byron said, suppressing another yawn.

He stared at the screen, mesmerized by the deadly scenario unfolding before his eyes. Byron couldn’t believe he was going to witness the destruction of an entire planet’s ecosystem. According to the vague reports from the Torbeth’s home world, the storm continued to rage across the surface. Within the hour, Arell would suffer a similar fate. The destruction of the Vindicarn teleportation vessel, now many years in the past, paled in comparison.

A noise reached Byron’s ears. He glanced at the door leading to his bedroom and touched the mind of the occupant within. Athee still slept. His shoulders sagged and Byron reached for his son’s mind. As expected, Bassan was caught in another nightmare.

So much for the sedative working, Byron thought with disgust.

He set his tablet aside and rose to investigate. The sound of Bassan’s whimpers drifted from his room. Raising the lights in the main room, Byron slipped into his son’s bedroom. Bassan’s body trembled, most likely from the images in his head, and he lie curled in a fetal position. Dropping onto the bed, Byron touched his son’s shoulder.

“Bassan,” he said, projecting with his mind as well. Giving his son a light shake, he tried again. “Bassan!”

With a gasp, the boy awoke and sat up. Byron caught the tail end of the dream as it vanished from his son’s mind. He frowned, puzzled by the fleeting abstract images. Never clear enough for him to identify, the visuals appeared connected and repetitive. Just what nightmare plagued his son every night?

Bassan
, he thought, steadying his son.
You’re all right. Just another bad dream.

Muscles tensed, Bassan opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound emerged. Averting his eyes, he leaned forward. His small hands balled into fists as he grasped the blanket and uttered another gasp.

Slipping an arm around his son’s body, Byron pulled him closer. He stroked Bassan’s matted hair, hoping he could soothe the boy quickly. At least he hasn’t woken up screaming and delirious the past two nights, thought Byron.

Bassan grasped Byron’s arm
. I’m sorry.

You can’t control your dreams
.
Glad I was awake and caught you before the dream got worse.

Bassan pulled free and peered up at his father.
Did you just get home?

No, I was…
Byron paused, hesitant to admit the reason for his nighttime activity. His son’s nightmares were already brutal. But, he never wanted to hide the truth from Bassan.

I’m watching updates on the probe’s arrival at Arell.

Oh
, thought Bassan, his tone sad.

Go back to sleep,
Byron thought, patting his son’s shoulder.

Settling Bassan in his bed, Byron returned to the main room. More alert now, he checked another feed on his tablet. The Arellens reported no sign of enemy ships, which had hindered evacuation efforts two days ago. Byron suspected the Vindicarn had retreated to their home world, as the ships occupying Tgren space were nowhere to be seen either.

I bet you believe our warning now, Byron thought.

Switching to the official feed, he skimmed the information. Thirty percent of the race had escaped the surface of Arell. Byron cringed and shifted his position on the couch. A million Arellens lived on the planet. He continued to read the report. Those who remained either took shelter underground or chose another method of protection. If the storm caused massive earthquakes or lasted longer than supplies of air, food, and water, then only 300,000 Arellens would remain.

Far more than the three hundred plus I’ll be able to save though, he thought, depressed by that sad truth.

Switching back to the first feed, Byron caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and noticed Bassan hovering at the end of couch.

You should be in bed
.

I can’t sleep,
thought Bassan, shifting from one foot to the other.
Can I sit out here with you for a while? Please?

Dropping his head against the back of the couch, Byron prepared to send his son back to his room. The boy would be so tired in the morning if he didn’t get some sleep. Bassan didn’t need to sit in on Arell’s deathwatch either. The thoughts in his son’s unshielded mind tugged at his conscience. Bassan just wanted to spend time with his father.

All right
, Byron thought, giving in to his guilt.

Bassan moved to Byron’s side, pressing his shoulder against his arm. Tilting his computer pad, Byron angled the screen away from his son. He didn’t need to witness the destruction of Arell. When the moment arrived, Byron contemplated looking away as well.

After a moment, Bassan shifted positions. Byron glanced down at his son. The turmoil of his dream now gone, Bassan’s mind revealed a sense of comfort in the presence of his father. Adjusting his shoulders again, Byron’s son looked up. His eyes reflected curiosity, offset by the bruising around his nose. The black patches were already changing colors as they healed.

You know, I never had a chance to talk to you about the fight,
Byron thought.

Bassan’s gaze dropped to his lap and he rubbed his fingers together.
Wasn’t much of a fight.

Officer Tarcon told me Senge knocked you down and called you a half-breed. Is that why you tackled him?

Yes, sir,
thought Bassan. His fingers moved faster.

Setting aside his computer pad, Byron focused on his son.
I would’ve tackled him as well.

Bassan looked up, his eyes wide.
Really?

Sure. I wasn’t afraid of a fight at your age.

Shame washed over Bassan and he dropped his gaze. Byron nudged his shoulder.

I didn’t say that was a good thing though. I lost as many fights as I won.

Byron lifted his arm and placed it around his son. Bassan finally met his eyes.

Fighting really doesn’t solve anything,
Byron thought.
But you should defend your heritage. Your mother is the former prefect’s niece, which is a prestigious position. She boasts mental powers stronger than most Tgrens and beyond what any Cassan woman possesses.

Besides,
he thought, squeezing his son,
this is your home. You are part of Tgren. Those Cassan boys are just guests.

Bassan offered a faint smile.
I guess they are.

Satisfied with their exchange, Byron glanced at his tablet. The alien ship had reached Arell and now hovered over the silent planet. Bassan nestled closer to his side and Byron wrapped his arm tighter around his son. He watched and waited with the rest of the universe.

The feed below the image announced a transmission from the probe.

I hope you caught that, Mevine, Byron thought.

Beside him, Bassan’s body shook. Byron turned to his son, afraid Bassan was watching the screen. The trembling intensified and Bassan held out his hand as if reaching for an invisible object. Startled by his son’s behavior, Byron sat up.

Bassan?
he thought, peering at the boy’s face. Glassy, unseeing eyes met his and Byron grabbed his son’s shoulders.

Bassan!

His son didn’t respond. Byron leapt from the couch and knelt in front of Bassan. The boy gave no indication he knew where he was or what he was doing. Panic rose in Byron’s chest and he reached for his son’s mind. A stream of images flashed through Bassan’s thoughts, blinding in their intensity. The similarity to his son’s violent dreams struck Byron. He tried to grasp the purpose of the images, but it was beyond anything he’d ever encountered.

Byron was about to wake Athee when his son’s shaking stopped. Bassan’s eyes refocused and he stared at his father in horror. Byron held his breath.

Bassan?
he thought.

His son gasped and his eyes filled with tears.
Please make it stop.

Returning to the couch, Byron pulled Bassan into his arms. The boy’s body shook with sobs and he trembled from head to toe. Distraught and at a loss, Byron rocked his son until the crying subsided.

Bassan?
he thought, still cradling his son’s body.
Did you fall asleep?

No,
thought Bassan, his answer punctuated by a sniff.

You were awake this time?

Yes.

Has this happened before?

The answer was slow in coming.
Yes.

Easing his hold, Byron gazed at his son’s tear-streaked face.
When?

Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, Bassan didn’t answer. Byron gave him a light shake.

Answer me! When did this happen?

Bassan grasped at his father’s shirt, his mouth open.
Right after my fight with Senge.

Byron returned his son’s stunned expression, his mind racing. Adjusting his hold on Bassan, he reached for his tablet. Byron pulled up the information on the probe’s attack on the Torbeth’s home world. Did a connection exist? He checked the time of the ship’s arrival and then pulled up the message from Officer Tarcon. While the exact time of the fight was unknown, the two events had occurred close together. Bassan’s instructor had mentioned a seizure. The symptoms mirrored Bassan’s reaction tonight.

Turning to his son, Byron noted the fear in Bassan’s eyes. Whatever he’d just endured, it went beyond his nightmares. For reasons Byron couldn’t understand, his son was linked to the probe.

Officer Mevine?
he thought, reaching out to his science officer.

Yes, sir?

I know you’ve been up all night, but I need you to remain in the lab a little longer.

Yes, sir,
thought Mevine.
Do you need all of our findings from tonight’s event?

No
, thought Byron, his gaze on Bassan. The truth landed heavy on his chest.

I think I’ve found the reply code for the probe.

Chapter Ten

The halls were quiet this time of morning. Byron passed only one other person as he escorted his son to the lab. Despite a lack of sleep, he felt strangely alert.

He’d waited until he and Bassan were dressed before rousing Athee. She’d panicked when Byron explained the situation. Her reaction confirmed Byron’s initial decision to leave before she could dress and join them. Bassan was already uneasy and on edge. His mother’s presence would unnerve him further. Byron promised Athee he would update her before they left the lab.

Bassan walked beside him in silence. He’d acted so fearful and vulnerable last night after his waking nightmare. Aware of his son’s anxiety, Byron rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Bassan’s posture straightened and he appeared to draw strength from the contact.

They reached Mevine’s lab and Byron scanned the room. One man hunched over his computer in the far corner while another slept at his station. Guiding Bassan into the lab, he waited a moment before calling out for his senior science officer.

Officer Mevine!

A head appeared over a computer in the middle of the room.
Sir! I’m sorry. I was just going over the data from Arell.

The science officer approached them, his gait uneven. Mevine paused next to a computer station, his hand grasping the edge of the desk. His curly mane bobbed as he steadied his body. Forcing himself to stand up straight, Mevine met Byron’s gaze. Dark circles resided underneath bloodshot eyes and Byron experienced a moment of regret. His senior science officer seemed poised to topple over at any moment.

“Officer Mevine, I can’t explain it,” said Byron, squeezing his son’s shoulder, “but I believe the response code is trapped in Bassan’s head.”

Mevine blinked, his body swaying. Mouth ajar, his gaze shifted from Bassan to Byron. “Sir, how is that possible?”

Byron shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s had the same nightmare for over a week. And last night he experienced it while awake and immediately following the transmission from the probe. I believe he experienced it when the alien ship signaled the Torbeth as well.”

Rubbing his face, Mevine took a step closer. “Sir the initial signal from the probe is a complex code. The response code would consist of detailed information. Data, symbols...”

“Images?” Byron interjected, still clinging to his theory.

Mevine froze. Byron seized the opportunity.

“A complex string of images and symbols more intense than our brains could process?”

His words sent a shock of fear through Bassan. Shifting his hand to the boy’s neck, Byron pulled him closer. Muscles tense, he waited for Mevine to respond.

“Sir, can you show me?” said Mevine.

Yes,
thought Byron, allowing the science officer access to the snippets he’d gathered from his son. Mevine’s eyes widened.

“Sir, if I could access the whole code…”

Offering a curt nod, Byron followed the science officer to his central computer. Mevine paused at the controls, his gaze on Bassan. Grasping his son under the arms, Byron lifted him onto the desk’s surface. Bassan adjusted his position and stared at his father in anticipation.

“Bassan,” said Byron, resting his hand against his son’s cheek. “I need to access that code. Since you can’t remember it, I need to go deep to find it.”

A flash of panic erupted from Bassan and he fidgeted atop the desk. Byron smiled to reassure his son.

“Yes, it will be uncomfortable. But it only hurts if you resist me. You need to trust me, all right?”

Bassan’s spine curved and he shrank even farther. Swallowing hard, he nodded.

Listen to me,
thought Byron.
You need to trust me. I’m just after the code. If we can get it out of your head, maybe it won’t give you nightmares anymore.

Licking his lips, Bassan’s chin dipped once.
Yes, Father.