CassaStorm (26 page)

“That was my father,” said Bassan.

The man’s head snapped around and Bassan pressed his back hard against the wall. Why did I say that out loud? he thought.

“Your father is a shuttle pilot?”

When Bassan greeted his question with silence, the man leaned forward. “Answer me!”

“He’s a Cosbolt pilot,” Bassan said, his body shaking, “and commander of the Cassan base.”

The man’s sharp bark of laughter reverberated in the tiny cave. Bassan pulled his knees even closer to his chest.

“Great, I just took the commander’s son hostage,” the man said, dropping his head against the wall. His lips curled into a sneer, blurring the grin on his face. “Damn, this just isn’t my day.”

Rolling his head to one side, the pilot peered up the open shaft. The arm holding the gun rested across his stomach, and the nose almost touched the ground. Escape tempted him, but Bassan knew he didn’t stand a chance against the weapon. He couldn’t overpower his captor, either. He reached out with his mind and met a wall of resistance again.

“Sorry, boy,” said the man, his head still turned. “I can’t have you calling for help.”

“You’re shielding my mind?” Bassan said. “How?”

The pilot flashed a grin. “Call it one of the few benefits of my Vindicarn heritage.”

“You don’t like the Vindicarn?”

“I have no allegiance to them.”

His attention shifted to the sound of another ship passing. The engine’s pitch was lower and full of rumble. Bassan suspected it belonged to a shuttle–probably his father’s shuttle. He was right outside, and Bassan had no way to contact him.

Frustrated with his predicament, Bassan released his legs and let his hands drop to the cave floor. His feet slid forward, sending pinpricks of pain through his knees. The sound caused the man to lift the nose of the gun. Bassan held his position. His knees protested the angle and before he could stop them, his legs straightened out in front of him. The man lost interest and Bassan’s shoulders slumped with relief.

The wind blowing into the cave brought no sound with it. Bassan wondered how many time his father would fly up and down the canyon searching for him. He had no idea how far they’d run or how much time had elapsed. He and his father were supposed to leave for the Vindicarn world this afternoon. What would happen if his father didn’t find him in time?

“Sir?” said Bassan, his voice cracking.

The man didn’t turn his head. Clearing his throat, Bassan tried again.

“Please, you have to take me back,” his said, raising his voice.

“So they can imprison me for kidnapping the commander’s son? No thanks.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Look, boy,” said the pilot, swinging around to face Bassan. “I get that you’re scared. But I can’t let you go. Not until my friends come to get me.”

Bassan sat up straighter, a spark of hope in his heart. “When are they coming?”

“Probably tonight, if we can remain hidden for that long.”

Tonight? Bassan couldn’t wait until evening. Rolling to his side, he pulled closer to the man. The pilot raised the gun in warning.

“Please, I’m supposed to board a flagship this afternoon with my father,” he said, ignoring the fear pulsating through his body. “We need to get to the Vindicarn’s world before the probe reaches it.”

The man laughed and brushed the hair away from his face. “Why would you want to go there? The last time I checked, the Vindicarn were at war with the Cassans.”

“Because I hold the code in my head for stopping the alien probe!”

Raising one eyebrow, the pilot cast a skeptical stare at Bassan. “Right.”

“I can prove it,” said Bassan, edging closer. “Go into my head and find it.”

“You’d actually want me in your head?”

“If it would convince you to let me go!”

Bassan scooted another foot closer to the man. The invasion of his mind scared him, but not nearly as much as what would happen if he missed that flagship. His father would be furious.

“Why are you so eager to help your enemy?”

“Father said if we stop the probe there, it will save all the races.”

With surprising agility, the man sprung to his feet and into a crouched position. Bassan gasped and recoiled as the gun hovered close to his face, the barrel dark and threatening.

“And what makes you think the Vindicarn will even allow you on their planet?” the pilot asked.

“They agreed to the peace treaty,” Bassan answered, the tremble in his muscles extending to his voice.

The man’s dark eyes burned with disbelief. Bassan didn’t move. He feared the pilot would grow tired of dealing with his prisoner and shoot Bassan dead.

Uttering a disgusted grunt, the man stepped back and went down on one knee. The rounded muzzle of the gun drooped as he drew it closer to his body. Drained by the experience, Bassan dropped to one elbow.

“It will never last,” the man said, shaking his head. “Not sure if it’s harder for my people during times of war, or peace.”

He kicked at a rock and sat down with his back against the cave wall. “And today was supposed to be an easy raid.”

“A raid? What were you after?”

“Medical supplies, food, anything of value we could sell. We’d scouted the area and knew activity had dwindled. Land, load the ships, and take off. Didn’t anticipate a pursuit. Our ships’ teleporters take forever to recharge. Damn, that old fighter’s weapons didn’t even work anymore.”

The rumble of engines distracted him. The noise was louder this time, but the results were the same. To Bassan’s chagrin, the ship continued past their cave.

His captor’s last words hung in his mind. “Why would you attack in a ship without weapons?” he said. It sounded like suicide to Bassan.

“We weren’t attacking, boy,” said the man, wrinkling his nose. “We were going to slip in and out undetected.”

“But rogue pirates attack and destroy other ships,” Bassan exclaimed, sitting upright. “They raid the cities of Tgren and our Cassan fleet.”

“Is that what they teach you? Boy, you have a lot to learn. Hundreds of illegal outfits prey upon ships and planets on the outskirts. And like us, they use whatever ships they can acquire. But they are not Rogues. They are not our people.”

“Your people?” said Bassan.

The man brought his fist down on the cave’s floor. “They aren’t mixed breeds. Means they’re not Rogues.”

Excitement stirred in Bassan. “All of you are half-breeds?”

“Some of us are multiple breeds and a mixture of all the races. That’s why we owe no single race our allegiance.”

Bassan gasped and smiled. “You’re the eleventh race,” he cried. “That means there can be peace.”

Laughter burst from the pilot. “When the races don’t even want to acknowledge our existence? That will never happen, boy.”

“But it can—”

“You talk too much. Go back to your corner.”

“Please, I must go!”

Bassan bit his lip as the man raised the gun and held it at arm’s length. No amusement adorned the pilot’s face now. Scooting backward on his rear end, Bassan slid to the far side of the tiny cave. He struck the wall with such force that the air left his lungs. Wheezing several times, he finally caught his breath. By the time he looked up at his captor, the gun rested again in his lap and the man stared at the cave’s opening.

I’ve got to get out of here, Bassan thought.

Engines rumbled overhead several times. Bassan’s foot began to twitch with nerves. The day was slipping away from him. If he couldn’t escape or persuade the Rogue to take him back soon, he wouldn’t reach the flagship in time.

Why did I have to see the tail of the ship? He crossed his arms across his chest, fighting the nausea churning in his stomach. Mother and Father will both kill me!

Glancing at his captor, Bassan contemplated making a run for the entrance. The memory of the gun pointed at his face chilled him and crushed that idea. He didn’t want to die.

The pilot’s head dropped against the back of the cave wall, his eyes unfocused. His brows came together, intensifying the man’s ever-present scowl. Bassan leaned forward, hope surging through his body. The man was communicating with someone via telepathy. This might be Bassan’s only chance to escape.

His knees protested as he rose to a crouch. He edged forward, lifting his feet with care. The man’s eyes remained unfocused as he concentrated on his conversation. The person had to be far away to require his full attention. Bassan took another step and looked up. The cave’s entrance was almost within reach…

“Damn it!”

Startled by the outburst, Bassan lost his balance. He reached forward, hoping for enough momentum to send him scrambling up the cave’s slope before the man realized what was happening. He miscalculated the distance and his left foot slipped. Landing hard on his knee, Bassan cried out in pain and rolled to his left. A rough hand grabbed his arm.

“What do you think you’re doing?” exclaimed the man, hovering over Bassan.

“Please!” said Bassan, holding up his hands. “You have to let me go. Everyone will die otherwise.”

“Shut up!”

“My people will be wiped out by the probe,” Bassan screamed. “Tgren doesn’t have any ships!”

The man shoved Bassan away and released him. His chest heaving, Bassan pulled his body into a sitting position. Crouching by the passageway, the Rogue rubbed his forehead and gazed up at the light. Despair filled the pilot’s black eyes. Something bad had happened. Whatever drove the man now, it wasn’t good.

Now that he was closer to the sunlight, Bassan could see his knees. The fabric had torn on both sides, and his knees were scraped and bloody. His left knee oozed fresh blood, and it trickled down the side of his pale blue pants. He found the sight both fascinating and nauseating. Bassan’s breath grew shallow and his heart began to race.

A hand came down over his left knee. Bassan cried out in fear as well as pain. He looked up to discover the Rogue’s face filling his vision.

“Here,” the man said, seizing Bassan’s left hand. He brought it down next to his own. “Hold the gauze in place.”

Releasing Bassan’s knee, the man moved away. Peering closer, Bassan noted a large medical gauze now covered his wound. He adjusted his hold and looked up at his captor. The man knelt on the other side of the narrow passage and shook his head.

“Damn it, I’m screwed,” he mumbled, his shoulders sagging. The pilot glanced at Bassan. “Just my luck I’d grab the commander’s boy. I guess you are really damned important. According to my friends, every ship on that base is in the air right now. Not a chance I’ll make it until nightfall.”

“Please,” said Bassan, seizing what might be his only opportunity. “Please let me go. I have to be on that flagship. If I don’t stop the probe before it destroys the Vindicarn’s world, my people will all die. Tgren ships can’t go into space. Only Cassan ships can do that. And we don’t have enough to save but a few.”

The man shook his head. “You speak as if they were both your people.”

Bassan lifted his chin. “They are.”

The man shifted his stance and fell onto his side. He looked up over his head at the sunlight streaming into the tiny cave. From that angle, Bassan could see the Cassan features of the man very clearly. His chin was rounded rather than pointed. And even though his skin appeared rough and wrinkled, it was far less than the images of Vindicarn faces Bassan recalled from his classes. Taking the dark, wavy hair into consideration, and in that light, the man appeared more Cassan than anything else.

The sound of engines drifted on the breeze. Bassan caught his breath. He tested the barrier around his mind and discovered it still in place. Leaning forward, he prepared to make one final plea for his release.

“I guess it’s as good a day to die as any,” said the man, brandishing the gun in front of his face. His gaze met Bassan’s and he gestured toward the cave’s entrance. “You better get going.”

“You’re letting me go?” said Bassan, stunned by the man’s sudden change of heart.

“Never meant to hurt you. I just heard someone approach my ship and thought for sure I was dead. I wouldn’t have hurt or killed you though. For what it’s worth, I hope you believe that, boy.”

“Bassan. My name is Bassan.”

The man offered a faint smile. “Bassan,” he said. He held the gun across his chest. “Now, go home, Bassan. Go save your people.”

Still holding the gauze against his knee, Bassan slid across the cavern floor to the shaft. He looked up and the sunlight almost blinded him. Ducking his head, Bassan’s gaze fell on the Rogue. Face drawn with resignation, the pilot offered a lifeless stare. The man’s chest heaved, the gun pressed hard against his flight suit. Staring at the weapon, it suddenly dawned on Bassan what the man intended to do.

“Please, you can’t,” he said, horrified the pilot planned to take his own life.

“Bassan, they’ll probe my mind for the location of the other Rogues. Afterward I’ll just rot in a Cassan prison,” the man replied. “Either way, I’ll never see my family again. I have to protect them.”

“You have a family?”

“Yes, a little girl. And a boy.” The pilot reached out and touched Bassan’s shoulder. A smile crossed his lips. “He’s maybe two years younger than you. A fighter though…just like you.”

Bassan’s mouth drifted open. He glanced up at the cave’s opening. No noise drifted down the thin shaft now, but if all of the squadrons were in the air, it wouldn’t be long before another ship passed overhead. He had time. Making a decision, he turned back to the Rogue pilot.

“Come with me,” he said.

The man closed his eyes. “Bassan, go on. You don’t need to see this.”

“No!” Bassan exclaimed. He seized the hand wrapped around the gun. “Don’t you see? You’re the proof. You can convince the Vindicarn.”

The Rogue stared at Bassan as if he were crazy. “Convince them of what?”

“That Cassans and Vindicarn can get along. That the races have so much in common that they shouldn’t be enemies.”

“The only thing that will happen is I’ll be thrown in a maximum security prison. After they’ve hunted down my family!”

“I’ll tell them not to.”

Scowling, the man pulled his weapon free from Bassan’s grasp. “You’re wasting time. Now, get out of here!”