CassaStorm (27 page)

“Not if I have to leave you here to die—”

“You can’t save me!”

The man shoved Bassan aside. Anger welled up inside of Bassan and he slapped the rocky slope with the palms of his hands.

“Yes I can!” he said. “I am the commander’s son and the one in possession of the code. And it they want me to get on that flagship and go all the way to the Vindicarn’s planet, then they are damn well going to listen to me.”

The pilot’s wide eyes confirmed the effect of his words. Bassan grasped a rock over his head and prepared to pull himself up the tunnel. Holding out his hand, he waited for the man to grasp it.

“Bassan, if I go with you, I’ll never see my family again,”

“Yes you will, I promise. You’re the eleventh race, just like me. Everyone will see you and realize peace with the Vindicarn is possible, including my father.”

Leaning his head back, the man clutched both hands to his chest. “If your father hates the Vindicarn as much as most Cassans, then I’m not going to change his mind. He’ll see his enemy in me.”

“I don’t,” said Bassan, surprised by the man’s protest. “You are as much a Cassan as I am.”

The pilot’s eyes narrowed. “Bassan, if you are wrong about this…”

“I’m not! Now, come on. We have to get to that flagship.”

Grasping his hand, the Rogue gave it a good shake. He released Bassan and rolled onto his stomach. Bassan began to climb, glancing back to be sure the man followed. The Rogue was right behind him, and he continued up the rocky surface. The light grew brighter and within seconds, Bassan climbed out of the tunnel. Blinded by the brilliance, he kept his head down. Glancing under his arm, he confirmed that the pilot had followed him to the surface.

They struggled to their feet. Bassan’s knees threatened to give out on him, but the man provided balance. Hands gripped his shoulders and Bassan met the man’s gaze.

“You better be right about this,” he said, fingers squeezing Bassan.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Bassan said.

“I know you’re not lying. I just hope you’re right.”

The man released him and Bassan staggered back a step. The Rogue straightened his back.

“Your mind is your own again,” he said.
“
And the name’s Piten.”

Bassan nodded. “Thank you, Piten.”

Standing tall, Bassan reached out for his parents.
Father! Mother! I’m here.

Bassan!
they thought in unison.

Are you all right?
his mother thought.

Where are you?
thought his father.

Scanning the valley, Bassan saw nothing familiar. He couldn’t answer that question. “Where am I?” he said, bewildered.

Piten pointed at an unusual outcropping of rocks. “Give that as a reference.”

Concentrating on the formation, Bassan projected the image with his mind.

We just flew past those rocks,
his mother thought with a gasp.
Bassan, stay there. I’m coming.

Are you alone?

His father’s tone caused Bassan to cast a wary glance at Piten.
No, but it’s all right. I found someone who can help us.

Help us? How?
his father thought.

With the Vindicarn. You’ll understand when you meet him. He’s one of the eleventh race, like me,
thought Bassan. He smiled at Piten. “My mother’s coming.”

“Let’s get to level ground then.”

They were almost to the valley floor when the roar of a shuttle filled the air. A shadow passed over them and Bassan looked up. The shuttle turned and he caught sight of his mother in the co-pilot’s seat. Elation filled him and Bassan waved both hands over his head. The motion caused him to lose his balance, but a hand grabbed his elbow.

“Easy,” said Piten. “They see us.”

The shuttle adjusted its position, looking for a suitable landing spot. Bassan stumbled down the remaining slope, eager to reach his mother. The ship came to rest on a patch of sandy ground and the shuttle hatch opened. His mother emerged and Bassan pumped his legs harder, ignoring the pain in his knees. Breaking into a run, his mother met him halfway. Uttering a joyful cry, he threw his arms around her neck.

“Bassan,” she cried in his ear, holding him fast.

Before he could speak, she spun around and placed him behind her body. Bassan looked up to see her holding a gun at arm’s length.

“Mother, wait!” he said, squirming to break free of her grasp.

“Don’t come any closer!” she called to Piten.

The Rogue pilot stopped several paces away, his hands out at his sides. Bassan tugged at his mother’s side.

“No, don’t!” he begged, terrified she would kill him on the spot. “I promised Piten no one would hurt him.”

Two security guards appeared at his mother’s side, weapons raised. “Don’t move,” one of them told Piten.

“Mother, please,” Bassan begged. He wiggled from her grasp and grabbed her free arm. “He can help us. Don’t shoot him.”

“Bassan, he’s a Vindicarn,” his mother said, her gaze still fixed on Piten.

“He’s half Vindicarn,” cried Bassan, raising his voice, “and half Cassan!”

His mother glanced at him, brows together. “Half Cassan?”

“Yes! He’s a half-breed like me. One of the eleventh race. And Piten might be able to convince the Vindicarn they can live in peace with the Cassans.”

“This man attacked us and kidnapped you.”

“Please,” he implored, tugging on her hand. “It’s a misunderstanding. He didn’t attack anyone. His ship doesn’t even have weapons! And I gave him my word no one would hurt or imprison him if he came with me.”

Her gaze returned to Piten. Bassan watched her face, hopeful she would see beyond the ashen complexion. When she hesitated, he offered one last plea.

Trust me, I know he can help us. Please, he’s just like me!

His mother frowned, but her weapon lowered. Stepping aside, she nodded at the two security guards.

“We’ll take him in for questioning,” she said to the men.

Mother?
thought Bassan, watching in fear as the security officers approached Piten.

We’ll take him with us and see what your father has to say. That man is not getting on the shuttle without restraints, though.

“Piten, it’s all right,” he called, afraid the man would take action to defend himself. The pilot stared hard at Bassan, the wrinkles deep across his forehead.

You better be right,
the Rogue thought, his mental voice weak.

The security guards removed his gun and secured his hands. They searched Piten before escorting him into the shuttle, but other than a packet of emergency medical supplies, the Rogue carried no other items. Bassan’s mother waited until the men were inside the ship before leading Bassan up the ramp. She fastened him into the first seat, fussing over his knees before taking the seat beside him. Once secure in her harness, she laid a hand alongside his cheek and pulled him closer. Loving relief poured from his mother and Bassan soaked up the affection.

As the hatch closed, Bassan leaned forward and peered around his mother. Near the rear of the craft, Piten sat in a seat on the other side, his gaze on the ceiling. Jaw set, he appeared resigned to his fate. Bassan was more determined than ever to keep his promise.

Mother,
he thought, peering up at her.
You have to help me convince Father.

Bassan, I’ll do what I can. But that man is a pirate and a criminal. They attack ships and kill their crews. One of the southern cities was attacked just last year.

They weren’t Rogues. Piten told me there are others who attack the ships. Real pirates. He said his people are called the Rogue and they don’t attack ships or cities.

He could’ve been lying to you,
his mother thought, stroking his cheek.

I don’t think he was, though! And he said Rogues are all half-breeds, like me. They’re a mix of all the races. Officer Mevine said that’s the eleventh race. That means we can all live in peace.

His mother’s brows came together. Releasing her hold on Bassan, she glanced over her shoulder. He leaned forward, peering around her. Piten’s head listed to one side, his gaze on the pair. Under the artificial lights of the main cabin, his skin’s ashen color was even more pronounced.

Mother,
thought Bassan as her attention returned to him,
I gave him my word. Please convince Father that Piten can help us. If he helps us, maybe we can let him go home to his family. That’s all he really wants. Piten wants to see his son and daughter again.

Sighing, her head touched his and she held Bassan’s hand
. You have such a compassionate heart.

Is that good?

His mother turned her head and kissed his forehead.
Yes.

Bassan arched his neck and smiled at his mother. She clasped his hand in her own and gave it a firm squeeze.

I will speak to your father. He has the final say though,
she thought,
and he won’t have much time to decide.

I didn’t miss the flagship, did I?
thought Bassan. He imagined the flagship taking off for Vindicarn without him and his fear renewed. Father would be so angry…

His mother laughed, dispelling his concerns.
Bassan, it’s going anywhere without you.

Chapter Thirteen

Byron watched the shuttle land with growing impatience. They had only an hour before the scheduled departure to the Litheron. With the morning’s hours consumed by the search for Bassan, it left precious little time for preparations. Byron had so much to cover with his senior officers.

Of all the days for a damned rogue pirate attack, he thought, grinding his teeth as he approached the ship. Two security officers followed close behind in anticipation of the prisoner on board the shuttle.

He leapt onto the ramp even before it touched the ground. Byron’s gaze fell on his son as Athee helped Bassan to his feet. In two strides, he’d closed the distance and grabbed his son’s shoulders.

“Where have you been?” he asked, bending down to peer into Bassan’s eyes. “Why didn’t you run to Mevine like I told you to?”

His son’s face grew long and his mouth opened without uttering a word. Bassan’s eyes blinked as tears formed. Viewing his son’s face and holding his thin shoulders reminded Byron that not an hour ago he’d thought him lost forever. His heart tightened with a vicious twist.

Releasing Bassan’s shoulders, Byron wrapped his arms around his son and hauled him in for a rough hug. Relief still tinged with fear flowed from Bassan, and Byron regretted his harsh questions. His son was alive. There would be time later for questions.

Sounds at the end of the cabin caught his attention. Opening his eyes, Byron caught sight of the man who’d kidnapped his son. His mate’s request that they consider Bassan’s captor a potential bargaining chip fled his mind. The revelation the Rogue might be the eleventh race meant nothing. He was part Vindicarn, and the man’s very presence filled Byron with rage.

Releasing Bassan, he strode toward the man. Now on his feet and between the security officers, the Rogue’s Vindicarn heritage was obvious. Fueled further by his hatred for the race, Byron grabbed the front of the man’s thin flight suit and shoved him against the wall.

“You’re damn lucky my son is all right!” he said, pressing the man into the seat’s alcove. “Don’t you realize how important he is for the survival of our race? We lose that code, and we are all dead!”

The Rogue’s face tightened and his eyes narrowed. Byron stared hard at Bassan’s abductor, unaffected by the coldness in his black eyes. The man’s hands clung to Byron’s wrists, although not with any force. The Rogue might be smart enough to resist fighting back but that didn’t quell Byron’s anger. The man had nearly cost the remaining races their lives.

“Father, please!” said Bassan. Small hands grabbed Byron’s left arm. “He can help us. Please don’t hurt him. He’s half Cassan.”

Byron continued to stare at the man. “And half Vindicarn.”

“I owe no allegiance to that race,” the Rogue spat, lifting his chin.

“Where does your allegiance reside?” Byron demanded, his grasp tightening on the man’s flight suit.

“With my people.”

“Your people?”

“My people!” the man said, his expression hard. “The thousands of Rogues that live on the fringes of the known races because you do not want to admit our existence.”

Thousands? Byron’s grip loosened on the man’s flight suit. Were there really that many half-breeds? Had the eleventh race existed for years without their knowledge?

“Father, if he comes with us, the Vindicarn will see that all of the races are connected,” Bassan said, tugging hard on Byron’s elbow. “Piten is proof.”

His son’s logic poked at the hate in Byron’s heart. The Vindicarn had killed many Cassans and Tgrens. They’d deprived Byron of his friend and brother. He could never forgive those losses. However, the man standing in front of him had committed none of those crimes. The Rogue hadn’t even returned fire when Byron shot down his ship.

Byron,
thought Athee.
Bassan insists this man can help us. I believe our son.

Releasing the man, Byron stepped back. The Rogue slumped into the alcove, his eyes still wary. The hands around Byron’s elbow slid to his hand.

Father, I promised Piten he wouldn’t be imprisoned.

Turning to face his son, Byron shook his head.
Bassan, he kidnapped you. Why would you promise such a thing?

He wasn’t going to hurt me. It was a mistake, Besides, he can help us,
thought Bassan, his eyes wide and pleading
. Please, Father. He was going to kill himself once I was safely away. I couldn’t let that happen.

Kill himself?

Because he wanted to protect his family. I promised Piten if he helped us, we’d reunite him with his children.

Byron’s gaze returned to the Rogue. The man still held his chin high, but indignation no longer dominated his features. Framed by dark, shaggy hair, his face showed signs of youth despite the dark, rough skin. Byron guessed he was many years his junior and even younger than Mevine. More important, his Cassan features revealed those years, not Vindicarn.