CassaStorm (24 page)

“Explain this to me again!” demanded Byron, slamming his fist on the table. “Why does Bassan have to travel to the Vindicarn’s home world?”

Mevine jumped and reached behind him for something to grasp. The science officer’s mouth fell open and his lower lip trembled. Through the fury that beat at Byron’s chest, he caught Mevine’s genuine fear. At this point though, he didn’t care.

“S-sir,” Mevine said, pressing his body into the corner of his workstation. “The Fesell stated the delivery of the code had to come from the original source. It has to come from Bassan.”

Byron, what’s happening?
thought Athee, her trembling words resounding in his head.

Furious with the situation, Byron slammed shields around his mind.
I’ll let you know in a minute
, he thought with more force than intended.

“Bassan isn’t the original source,” he said, hovering over Mevine. “The alien ship is!”

“Yes, but Bassan is the one who carries the code now.”

“Why? Because of speculation he’s part of an eleventh race?”

Mevine’s left hand slipped and he struggled to regain his balance. “Sir, I can’t explain it. But there was a connection between the alien ship and Bassan. The code downloaded into his mind because the computer determined Bassan was an original source.”

Anger continued to ripple through Byron’s mind. He wrestled with his thoughts, determined to regain his composure. The only sound that reached his ears was his own forced breath. Byron focused on that and reigned in his temper.

“A ten-year-old boy?” he challenged, gritting his teeth to prevent his voice from rising again.

“Sir, I haven’t had time to go over the full report. We’ve been working on the ship’s response. This morning the Fesell’s proposition was just a theory.”

“You knew Bassan would have to travel to the Vindicarn home world though?”

Mevine’s hesitation rekindled Byron’s fury.

“You knew and you didn’t inform me?” he demanded.

“Sir, I didn’t want to alarm you with what was speculation at the time,” stammered Mevine. Desperation colored his words.
Please sir, I didn’t want to do that to you. Not again.

And what happens to my son when he downloads the code?

Sir, I don’t know…

Byron shook his head, his gaze on the desk. At the back of his mind, he sensed Athee’s presence. He’d let his shields slip. Although distraught, she didn’t interfere this time.

Without saying another word to Mevine, he strode from the lab. It didn’t matter what logic his science officer offered–Byron needed to go to the top.

Byron?
thought Athee.
What’s wrong?

Grinding his teeth, he started to block out his mate’s mental voice, but he couldn’t shield his thoughts forever. This concerned their son. She deserved to know.

I just received instructions for stopping the probe,
he thought, keeping his mental voice steady so as not to alarm Athee.
The response code must be sent from the alien ship on the Vindicarn’s home world.

But the code is here in Bassan
. There was a pause and then a flash of panic
. They want Bassan to travel to the Vindicarn’s planet?

That’s how I interpret it.

Bassan can’t go to the enemy’s planet! He’s never even been off Tgren.

Believe me, I’m all in favor of letting the aliens destroy the Vindicarn. Let me contact High Command and see if there’s a mistake.

Please! Our son can’t go into such a hostile environment.

Byron stormed into his office. He dropped with force into his chair and pulled up the message again.

‘Response code must be delivered through the targeted alien ship’s central computer. The leaders of the eight unaffected races must then upload their agreement to the peace treaty. Their presence and compliance is mandatory and must occur simultaneously.’

Ignoring the remainder of the message, Byron tossed aside his tablet. Stunned they would even suggest a ten-year-old boy travel to the Vindicarn planet, he sent an urgent request for a conference to High Command. While he waited for a response, Byron took several deep breaths to regain control of his temper. He couldn’t help his son if he wasn’t levelheaded during this conversation.

The screen came to life. Byron paused as the man’s face grew clear. He gripped the edge of the desk, his fingers digging into the surface. He hadn’t expected Chancellor Sorth himself.

“Commander Byron, I assume the instructions for stopping the alien ship arrived?” the man asked, resting easy in his chair.

“Yes, sir,” Byron replied. He glanced again at the message. “I would like to clarify the first line.”

“According to the Fesell and those working on this project, the probe must receive a reply from the alien ship in direct contact. Since its next target appears to be the Vindicarn home world, the code must be sent from that location.”

“Sir, are you asking me to send my son into enemy territory?”

“May I remind you they did sign the peace treaty, Commander?” stated Sorth, raising one eyebrow.

“I know they did, sir,” said Byron, choosing his next words with care. “But can we trust them?”

“If they agree to this arrangement, we’ll have no choice but to trust them.”

“With all due respect sir, I don’t know if I can agree to this arrangement.”

“Commander Byron,” said Sorth, his voice bristling with authority, “if we do not send the code to the Vindicarn and their world is destroyed, there is a good chance the Narcons and Lorvendera will refuse to cooperate when the probe reaches Tgren. With Cassa next in line, we might all suffer the same fate as the Arellens. I am not willing to take that risk. Are you?”

Byron slumped in his seat. When he was younger, bucking authority was not an issue. In his current position though, he could not refuse to comply with direct orders. Defeat rested heavy on his shoulders as he wondered how he would break the news to Athee.

Sorth’s hardened expression vanished. “Commander, I understand your concerns. Your son’s safety is important. You will be permitted to accompany him. We’ve already made arrangements for the Litheron to escort you and your son to the Vindicarn home world. If the leaders agree to this deal, you will leave this afternoon. In the meantime, review the instructions for proper uploading of the code. When the moment arrives, your son will have one chance to get it right.”

The chancellor’s words lingered long after the screen went black. Take his son to the Vindicarn home planet? Into their enemy’s lair? Peace treaty or not, Byron didn’t trust them. Too much Cassan blood had been spilled as a result of encounters with the Vindicarn.

You took my brother, thought Byron, anger burning inside as he stared at the screen. Damned if I’ll let you take my son.

Byron…

Athee, I’m sure you were listening.

I was,
she thought. Her fear pounded faster than a beating heart, filling Byron with apprehension.
Byron, he can’t go…

Damn it, you know the last thing I want to do is save the wretched Vindicarn. Unfortunately, this affects too many lives. We don’t have a choice. At least I’ll be with him. Now, I need you to retrieve Bassan and bring him to the hangar. We need to go over the procedure with Mevine.

His mate didn’t respond, but Byron knew she’d comply. Her distress bothered him, shaking the dark core of emotions he never wanted to experience again. Athee required comfort, but in his current state, he was in no position to give any. Controlling the rage within was all Byron could manage.

Grabbing his tablet, he forwarded the message to Ubarce. He sent an urgent thought to his senior science officer next.

Mevine, you are to meet me in the alien ship’s control center.

Yes, sir
, Mevine thought, his tone meek and submissive.
I’m already on my way.

Uttering a growl of disgust, Byron scooped his tablet from the desk and strode toward the door. He hit the hallway, the heels of his boots striking the floor with great force. Everyone jumped aside as he passed, giving him a clear path. If they failed to offer a proper salute, Byron didn’t notice. His thoughts resided elsewhere. He had too much to accomplish before they departed.

By the time he reached the hangar, Byron had contacted both Hurend and Mard. He needed to go over instructions for the evacuation with all of his senior officers. It annoyed Byron he would be absent during preparations. If anything went wrong, if one prefect got out of line…

His computer tablet emitted an urgent beep. Dreading more bad news, he glanced at the screen. The message originated from Ubarce.

“Commander,” said the prefect, his voice wary, “I’ve reviewed the instructions regarding the probe several times.”

Byron held the screen higher. “Did you have any questions, Prefect?”

“I’m… I’m very sorry, Commander.”

His words stung Byron with their sincerity. Glancing away, Byron let the gentle morning wind cool his face. The reality of the situation at last took hold.

“So am I,” he said, his gaze returning to the concerned man on the screen. “But it appears to be the only solution.”

“Is there a risk to your son?”

Byron’s chest tightened. “We don’t know what will happen.”

Ubarce pressed his lips into a thin line of disapproval. “I was going to send my compliance.”

“As well you should. This may be our only shot. My son and I will depart on the Litheron this afternoon. I’m meeting with my senior officers before we leave and would like you to attend, if possible.”

“I’ll be there, Commander.”

The transmission ended and Byron let the computer pad drop to his side. He stared out the open hangar doors, the glow of the morning sun bright on the desert beyond. And yet it couldn’t appear more dark and foreboding.

Damn, why did it have to be the Vindicarn? Byron thought.

Chapter Twelve

Bassan pumped his legs harder. His mother moved at a brisk pace, her stride long and forceful. With her hand wrapped around his, Bassan had no choice but to keep up with her rapid gait.

Stealing a quick glance at her face, he caught the deep lines of worry across her brow and around her mouth. She’d said he was going to the alien ship to practice sending the code, but something was wrong. Sparks of anxiety leaked from her mind despite her shields, unnerving Bassan further. Was he in trouble?

They strode through the building and into the hangar. Bassan’s father awaited them beside a shuttle. On edge from his mother’s agitated state, Bassan’s fear escalated. They were taking the shuttle to the alien site? He hated flying.

Pausing in front of Bassan’s father, his mother’s body grew rigid. Bassan glanced from one to the other, but neither met his gaze. With a soft gasp, his mother pulled him forward and pushed Bassan toward his father. He glanced over his shoulder as his father led him to the entrance of the shuttle, but his mother had already turned away.

“Come on,” his father said, guiding Bassan up the ramp. “Short ride to the alien ship.”

His father placed him in a seat and fastened the harnesses. The pilot entered the main cabin and nodded at Bassan before closing the hatch. The doors sealed with a pop, locking them inside. Bassan’s breathing increased.

“It’s all right,” his father said, tightening the last harness. He slid into the seat next to Bassan. “Remember, a shuttle is much smoother than a Tgren ship.”

The engine started with a soft roar, sending a tremor through the shuttle. Bassan’s grip on his harness tightened. His lungs ached for air and he opened his mouth, taking several deep breaths. The engines grew louder, sending panic down Bassan’s spine. A moment later, a slight jolt rumbled through the floor below him and his center of gravity shifted. They were airborne.

The motion inside the shuttle was minimal, but that didn’t stop Bassan’s imagination from straying. He pictured the ship rising higher, preparing for a sharp turn or dive.

I hate flying, he thought.

Beside him, Bassan’s father remained still, his hands clasped around his computer pad. Something wasn’t right. Glancing at his father’s face, Bassan noticed the same, cold expression his mother had worn when she’d escorted him to the shuttle. They were unhappy. Bassan wondered what he could’ve done to displease his parents.

“Father, are you angry with me?”

“No, I’m not angry with you.”

“Are you sure?”

His father shook his head and lowered his tablet, his gaze on the shuttle floor. Confused, Bassan held still and waited. His father took a deep breath.

“I am not mad at you,” his father said. “I’m mad at the situation.”

Bassan opened his mouth to speak but no sound emerged. His father turned to look at him.

“This afternoon, you and I are leaving Tgren. One of the Cassan flagships will carry us to the Vindicarn’s home world. The probe will be there in less than three days and we need the code in your head to stop it.”

They were leaving Tgren? Bassan’s stomach dropped as dizziness overcame him.

“We’re going to the Vindicarn’s planet?” he said, stumbling over his question.

“Yes, that’s the probe’s next target,” his father replied. “The leaders have agreed to peace, which means we must send the code from the Vindicarn’s world.”

“I thought they were our enemies?”

His father nodded. “They have been our enemies for many years. That’s why I am angry. But if they’ve agreed to peace for the sake of saving their planet, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Bassan swallowed, his throat tight. “Will they still be our enemies even after we stop the probe?”

“I don’t know, Bassan.”

His mind reeling, Bassan opened his mouth to ask another question. His father gave his knee a shake, his eyes intense.

“It doesn’t matter, though. By doing this, we’ll save Tgren, understand? We’ll save Cassa and all of the other races.”

Clinging to his harness, Bassan nodded. His father smiled.