CassaStorm (20 page)

Byron hesitated. He needed his son’s full cooperation and trust.

I love you.

The fear vanished from Bassan’s eyes. He sat up straighter, his chest forward.

“Officer Mevine, you are to access the code through me, understood?” said Byron.
Once I lock onto the code in my son’s mind, you are to take it from mine. That is an order.

Yes, sir,
thought Mevine. His touch on Byron’s mind confirmed his compliance.

Close your eyes
, Byron thought, nodding at his son.

Once Bassan’s eyes closed, Byron entered his mind. He met no resistance. Reassured by his son’s trust, he began to search. Byron hoped the unique signature of the code would cause it to stand out from the rest of Bassan’s thoughts and memories. Finding a series of vague images would prove difficult, otherwise.

Flitting through his son’s memories, Byron didn’t dwell on the individual moments. He couldn’t help but notice the amount of times his own image appeared, though. Bassan recalled more than he did, which was no small feat for someone his age. That those memories held special meaning for his son elicited a pang of guilt. Byron needed to devote more time to Bassan.

Delving further, he entered Bassan’s subconscious. Unease drifted through his son’s mind and the boy’s muscles tightened beneath his grip.

Relax
, Byron told him, closing his own eyes so he could focus better.

A moment later, he encountered a shield. The code had to be within. Gritting his teeth, Byron prepared to force his way inside.

I’m sorry, but this will hurt,
he thought, regretting the pain he would inflict on his son. Confirming Mevine’s presence on the fringes of his mind, Byron pushed through the shield.

Bassan’s cry reverberated in his ears and pounded at his skull. As soon as he’d punched through the barrier, a blinding light overwhelmed Byron. A stream of images pounded at his mind, compounded by Bassan’s agony. Tortured by the sensation, he almost pulled out. Clinging to the stream of confusion, Byron fought through the burning pain. If he released Bassan’s mind now, he might not get another opportunity.

The light began to dim. As it faded, so did the roar between his ears. Replaced by fear and anguish, Byron became aware of his hold on Bassan’s mind. In haste, he withdrew and opened his eyes. His son’s chin rested on his chest, his hands pressed to his face.

As shaken as Bassan, Byron pulled his son close. A soft sob escaped Bassan.

It’s all right,
Byron thought, resting his cheek on his son’s head.
It’s over now.

His gaze traveled to Mevine. Alarm rose in his chest. The science officer had collapsed in his chair. Byron lifted his head just as another officer arrived at Mevine’s side.

“Sir, are you all right?” the man said, grasping Mevine’s shoulder.

Shaking his head, Mevine looked up at the man. He glanced at Byron, his eyes wide. Brushing off the other officer, Mevine spun in his chair and began typing on his keypad. The man stepped back and turned to Byron.

“Commander?” he said, his hand outstretched.

“I’m fine,” Byron answered.

With hesitant steps, the officer returned to his station. Still holding his son, Byron’s attention returned to Mevine. He watched the man’s fingers run across the keypad. Byron wanted to confirm his science officer had caught the code but held his tongue. Judging from Mevine’s reaction, not to mention the tense expression crushing his face, he’d experienced every moment.

A gasp from Bassan diverted Byron’s attention. Adjusting his hold, Byron pressed his hand against his son’s neck.

I’m here,
he thought, connecting to Bassan’s mind with the lightest touch.
I’m sorry it had to hurt. I never wanted to do that to you.

Bassan’s fingers clutched tighter at his back. The wrenching and overpowering agony in his mind stabbed at Byron’s heart. He’d endured so many mental invasions as a child and never wanted Bassan to endure such cruelty. Not only had he betrayed his son, but Byron had acted as the perpetrator.

Bassan, I’m sorry,
he thought.
I love you. Forgive me.

His son pulled against him and Byron eased his hold. Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, Bassan raised his chin and met Byron’s gaze. Offering the best smile he could muster, Byron gave his son’s neck a gentle squeeze. Bassan’s mind filled with acceptance, offering no trace of resentment. The forgiving attitude surprised Byron. While he’d grown up bitter and angry, his son possessed neither of those qualities. The influence of Bassan’s mother couldn’t be more prominent.

Is our son all right?

At the sound of his mate’s voice, Byron pulled his son closer.
He’s fine. Just tell me you weren’t linked to either of us when I accessed that code.

No, I did as you asked,
thought Athee.
But I could still feel your pain. Are you sure you’re both all right?

Yes, I promise. Mevine is working on the code now. I’ll let you know what he finds.

The moment you know something! I’ll be there shortly.

Mevine leaned away from the keyboard and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. Byron released Bassan save for one hand on the boy’s shoulder and waited for the verdict. The science officer shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. Byron was about to speak when Mevine’s head jerked around. His hands dropped and he assumed a more professional posture.

“Sir, I don’t know how it’s possible,” said Mevine, “but the signatures of the coded message sent out by the probe and the code in your son’s head are similar. I can’t do a full analysis though. I simply can’t remember enough of the code…”

“Is it the correct response?” Byron said, muscles coiling in anticipation.

Mevine turned in his chair and gazed up at Byron, his eyebrows raised. “As far as I can tell, yes.”

Gasping as he released his breath, Byron turned to Bassan. The boy appeared confused. Byron rested his hands on Bassan’s shoulder and fixed him with a firm stare.

“Bassan, you need to do one more thing for me. I need to know how that code got into your head. When your nightmares began, was that the first time you’d seen a flash of light and images?”

Fear emanated from Bassan before he shielded his thoughts. Byron gave his son a light shake.

“You need to tell me.”

Biting his lip, Bassan glanced at Mevine. “I wasn’t supposed to touch anything,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“At the alien ship?” said Mevine, springing to his feet.

Byron caught Bassan’s faint nod. “What did you touch?” he said, leaning closer to his son.

His face contorted with fear, Bassan met Byron’s gaze. “In the control room over the pods,” he stammered. “I touched the large console. The one with no display.”

“You placed your hand on the modulator?” said Mevine. He held up his fists and pressed them together. “The round, metal ball?”

Bassan nodded, his body beginning to tremble. Byron turned to his science officer and noted Mevine’s excited expression.

“What’s the significance?” he said.

“Sir, we’ve never been able to access that particular console,” said Mevine, turning to punch numbers into his keyboard. “The alien ship is so sensitive. Sometimes it’s more than just knowing which button to push. Like when the ship scanned for the correct development of mental powers years ago. It takes the right conditions.”

“Then how was Bassan able to access it?”

Mevine leaned away from the screen, his head shaking slowly from side to side. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. The science officer’s hand dropped and he turned to Byron. Mouth open to speak, Mevine’s gaze shifted to Bassan and he froze. A wave of incredulous revelation rolled from the man’s thoughts.

“He gained access because he’s half Tgren and half Cassan,” Mevine said, his words coming out in a rush.

“What?”

Without answering, Mevine punched numbers into the keypad like a madman. Impatient for an answer, Byron stared at the various screens as they flitted by on the computer. He was about to demand an answer from his science officer when one image paused on the screen. Nine encoded transmissions were displayed side by side, identical in appearance. Mevine leaned away and pointed at the graph.

“Commander, that’s the responses from the nine alien ships before the Torbeth’s home world was laid to waste. Remember I said there was a slight variation in the transmissions from the ships on Cassa and Tgren? You can see it here,” said Mevine, pointing to a segment near the end of one transmission. It was difficult to see, but Byron detected a slight difference.

“The probe was activated because the ten races are at war,” Mevine continued, his voice rising in pitch. “What if Bassan’s mixed heritage told the computer the Cassans and Tgrens were at peace with each other? It might’ve deemed Bassan a satisfactory receptacle for the code.”

“Because he carries the genes of two races?”

“Possibly, sir.”

Byron turned to Bassan. The boy glanced at each man, his eyes wide.

“So it’s good I’m a half-breed freak?” Bassan said.

“Bassan, you are not a freak,” said Byron.

Mevine leaned closer and patted the boy’s knee. “You’re not a freak. Remember what I said that day? You and Drent might be the beginning of a new race.”

The words were no sooner out of the science officer’s mouth when he slapped his forehead. “Of course!” he said. Mevine spun back to his computer.

“Now what?” said Byron.

Mevine’s fingers flew over the keypad. A complex string of alien text appeared on the computer screen.

“Sir,” said Mevine, pointing at the strange symbols, “one thing we’d encountered in our translations was the mention of an eleventh race. It only appears in this passage. We originally thought it referred to the race that seeded the Tgrens. Further study revealed that was not the case, however.”

“There’s an eleventh seeded race?” said Byron. Only ten alien ships were discovered though.

The science officer shook his head. “This race wasn’t seeded. Our best translation of this passage implies the race will emerge.”

Byron stared at Mevine in disbelief. A race that would emerge? One that was a mixture of two races?

“Bassan is the beginning of that race?” said Byron.

“Sir, if he is, then that might explain why the code downloaded into his head. It makes sense. The eleventh race is the key.”

Stunned by the implication, Byron peered closer at his son. Bassan fidgeted atop the desk, his dark eyes upon his father. Byron touched his son’s head and marveled at the miracle in front of him. Their one hope for survival existed because he’d taken a Tgren woman as his mate. And now their offspring possessed the code sought by the alien probe.

How do we get the code out of Bassan?
thought Byron, unwilling to voice his concerns in front of his son.

Sir, that I don’t know
, thought Mevine.
Delivery of the response code has to be located somewhere in the databanks though.

“That code will stop the probe?” Byron said, turning to his science officer.

Mevine’s shoulders sagged. “Only if it’s accompanied by the confirmation the ten races are at peace.”

“That’s all?” scoffed Byron.

Disgusted, he straightened his back and glanced around the room. Several other officers had arrived and begun working. Among them, Byron noted the two Tgrens who worked with Mevine. The men appeared at ease surrounded by Cassans, and other than their dark hair and skin tone, they looked no different. For the most part, the two races existed in peace. They’d even interbred, producing children that Mevine now claimed were an eleventh race. If Cassans and Tgrens could coexist, then so could the other races.

“Officer Mevine,” said Byron, startling the science officer. “I need you to send me your findings and conclusion in a report I can forward to High Command.”

“Yes, sir.”

Byron allowed a grin to cross his face. “The aliens want peace between the races? Well, let’s see how badly the Vindicarn want their planet to survive.”

Mevine swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Grasping his son, Byron set Bassan on the floor. “And then,” he said with force, “you are to go home and go to bed.”

“But sir...”

“Mevine, I’m going to need you more than ever if we hope to beat this. And I need you sharp. Get a few hours of sleep so you can perform your duties.”

Standing straight, Mevine offered a salute. “Yes, sir!”

Holding his son’s hand, Byron led Bassan from the lab. The boy’s feet moved quickly to keep pace. Once they reached the hallway, his head dropped.

Father, I’m sorry
, he thought.

Byron didn’t respond. They passed an officer on his way to the lab, his salute jumbled as he attempted to maintain a hold on the items in his hand. The moment the man entered the lab, Byron stooped to one knee in front of Bassan.

You shouldn’t have touched that console,
he thought, grasping his son’s shoulders. Bassan’s chin drooped. Byron gave him a shake and the boy raised his head.

But considering you now carry the code that could save us, I’m damned glad you did.

Bassan’s mouth opened and his eyes grew wide. Byron smiled and patted the side of his head.

Not bad for a half-breed, huh?

Leaning forward, Athee retrieved the new message. Her back protested the awkward pose and she shifted her position. Athee moved again, edging closer to the desk. The tension in her body just wouldn’t allow her to find a comfortable spot.

I need some rest, she thought. And time away from this desk!

The message held another list of twelve candidates. She scanned the descriptions. All fell within Byron’s parameters and represented an equal mix of men and women. She’d rejected two lists already this morning. Athee grew weary of fighting with the prefects. Several were determined to slip in completely unqualified prospects. At least this selection represented a good mix of ages and skills.