CassaStorm (32 page)

They reached the shuttle, its hatch open and waiting. Byron paused and glanced at Bassan. His son looked up, his hair obscuring one eye. Brushing aside the lock, Byron patted him on the head and turned to Wraint.

Just be sure the two of you come back in one piece,
the commander thought.
I’m not losing a Cassan hero.

If there’s trouble, don’t worry about us. Jump the Litheron to a safe location.

Wraint’s eyes widened.
And leave you behind?

If we can get back to the shuttle, I can jump us to safety.

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

Byron noticed Piten approaching, flanked by several security officers. Pressing his hand against Bassan’s back, he urged his son up the ramp. They were fastened in their harnesses by the time the Rogue took a seat opposite them.

“Hello Bassan, Byron,” Piten said, reaching for his harness.

Byron noticed one security officer remained in the main cabin. “He’s fine,” Byron said, gesturing the man away.

The officer closed the hatch and entered the cockpit. Byron pressed his head back against the seat and reached out for his mate.

Athee, we are preparing for departure
.

We are ready on this end
, she thought.
Prefect Ubarce is in place. Mevine is in contact with the Arellens, who are coordinating with all the races.

Where are you?

Here at the alien ruins.

Good. I want to confirm our timing with Mevine.

Byron?
she thought, her mental voice growing shaky.
You take care of my baby. Please, I can’t lose either of you.

He closed his eyes against the anguish in her tone.
Nothing will happen to Bassan. We’ll return in just a couple days. And I know you’ll be listening. Just please don’t say anything unless necessary. It’s going to take every ounce of my concentration to ensure everything goes as planned.

I won’t
. Her reply was just above a whisper.

Athee…

She started to slip away from him. Byron held fast to their connection. If something went wrong, he didn’t want their final conversation to end in such a manner.

Athee, I love you. I’ve treasured our years together. You gave my life such meaning.

Byron!
she thought with a gasp.

Aware that his choice of words had upset his mate, Byron changed his tactic.
When we return, there will be some changes. I’m going to spend more time with you and Bassan. If I have to resign to do it, so be it. But I want to enjoy my family more often.
I’ve missed too much of Bassan’s life already.

He paused and waited. Byron sensed Athee was crying, but happiness flavored her tears rather than misery. At that moment, his mate’s bond bound them tighter than at any other time.

Athee, we’re taking off,
he thought, the shudder of the ship lifting into the air running down his spine.

I love you!
she thought.
Please tell Bassan how much I love him.

I will.

She faded from his mind. Byron opened his eyes and glanced at Bassan.
Your mother says she loves you.

His son managed a weak smile. The shuttle’s movement ceased and Bassan grasped his harness tighter. Byron patted his son’s knee. His gaze shifted to Piten, who stared at him with curious eyes.

“You were speaking to someone far off,” the Rogue observed.

“My mate,” said Byron, unwilling to reveal more of the conversation.

“Must be nice.”

The previous day’s conversation returned to Byron. “You can’t hear your mate?”

Piten shook his head. “She has too much Arellen in her. Bonding isn’t one of her abilities, so I can’t hear her at great distances.”

The ship began to move again. Byron glanced at the cockpit and confirmed their departure from the Litheron. The teleporter came to life as the pilot prepared to jump the shuttle.

“I told your father I think you’re one brave young man.”

Byron’s attention returned to Piten. The man leaned forward as far as the harness would allow, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Sporting a fatherly smile, the Rogue gazed at Bassan.

“My son’s brave as well,” Piten said. “He’s a climber. Can’t keep him off anything. Are you a climber?”

The ship jumped, making a smooth transition. Bassan adjusted his grip on the harness and sat up straighter.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Whenever I work on my fighter,” the Rogue said, his head tilted to one side, “my son joins me. Takes him less than a minute to climb up to the tail.”

“He gets to climb on your fighter?” said Bassan, coming to life.

“I doubt I could stop him. He likes to pretend he’s flying. When he’s through, he helps me with repairs. Think he’ll make an excellent mechanic someday.”

“You work on your own ship?” Byron inquired, joining the conversation.

“Yeah, that bucket of junk you shot down didn’t even fly when I bought it for almost nothing,” said Piten. Despite his words, his tone carried no malice. “About the only thing that did work were the weapons. And those went out a month ago. Just didn’t have the funds to refuel them.”

The ship banked to the right. Byron turned his attention to the view outside the cockpit. Blood red mountains of sand filled the view. Allowing Bassan and Piten to continue their conversation, he leaned forward and watched with interest. A Vindicarn ship dropped into position directly in front of the shuttle. Unable to see the landscape, his focus returned to the present company.

“Maybe your son and I can play together someday,” Bassan said, his tone wistful.

Piten shot Byron a wary glance. “I’m sure you’d have fun together.”

Bassan kicked out his feet in frustration. “Wish I could meet him.”

“I can show him to you. I can show you all of my family.”

The Rogue’s gaze continued to linger on Byron. It dawned on him the offer included him as well as Bassan. Byron had no desire to enter the man’s mind, but he needed Piten’s assistance on the surface.

“All right,” he said.

Focusing on his son’s thoughts in addition to Piten’s, Byron touched the man’s mind. Until that moment, he’d sensed nothing from the Rogue. Piten didn’t project his thoughts in a manner similar to most Cassans. That alone marked him as unusual. However, the images in his mind couldn’t have been any more normal.

Byron saw a boy younger than Bassan walking along the wing of a small fighter, and at once he recognized the ship he’d shot down over Tgren. The boy grasped the trailing edge of the wing and swung down, his feet dangling above the ground. Hands reached out to tickle the boy and he laughed so hard he lost his grip. The boy fell into his father’s arms, still giggling. The wrinkles on his skin were subtler than the Rogue’s, and the bluish tint of the Arellen race more dominant than the Vindicarn grey. His wavy hair was much lighter as well.

The view shifted and a small room appeared. One side contained the basics of a kitchen while a round table filled the other side. Set for four people, the table held two bowls of food and a tiny loaf of bread. A little girl came into view, her frame but a wisp of flesh and bones. She tossed her frizzy yellow hair and offered a beaming smile. Her skin tone was even paler. Outside of a tinge of blue, Piten’s daughter possessed flesh similar in color to the Cassans. She was so thin though…

Natural for Arellens,
thought Piten.
Although there have been times when my whole family looked as thin as my daughter.

Those words bothered Byron. Annoyed with himself for caring, he turned his attention to the room. A single window resided on one wall, allowing a small stream of artificial light to enter. However, the room wasn’t dark. It glowed with unusual warmth. That’s when Byron noticed the candles. Resting on small shelves, they lined the walls everywhere he looked.

My mate makes and sells them
, Piten thought.
Other races buy them because of their antiquarian appearance. Rogues buy them for a cheap light source.

A woman came into focus. Byron assumed it was Piten’s mate. Frizzy hair longer than his daughter’s adorned her face. Her pale, blue skin carried a hint of yellow, and it stretched smoothly across her high cheekbones. Reaching out her thin fingers, she grasped the Rogue’s hand, and he led her to the table.

With his mind open, Piten’s love for his mate flowed uninhibited. Stirred already by sympathy, Byron found the emotions too strong. He pulled out of the Rogue’s mind. Bassan withdrew as well, his thoughts curious but calm. The man gazed at Byron, waiting for a response.

“You have a nice family,” Byron said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind.

“Thanks. I’m damned lucky,” said Piten.

A jolt signified the shuttle had landed. Bassan caught his breath and pressed his body deeper into the seat. Byron patted his knee.

“We’ll be all right,” he said.

“That’s right,” Piten said in a cheery voice. “Get in, download the code, and get out. Simple as that.”

Bassan nodded, his fingers still grasping his harness.

Byron glanced at the cockpit. The alien ship dominated the scene, its exterior awash in a red hue. They were very close to the alien ship’s main entrance. He unfastened his harness first and then helped Bassan to his feet. Anxiety colored his son’s thoughts but not to the point of overwhelming panic. The Rogue had kept him distracted during their descent and alleviated Bassan’s fears.

Thank you,
he thought privately to Piten.

“Thought it would help him relax,” the man said in low voice.

Byron glanced at Bassan, but his son hadn’t heard Piten’s response.
You don’t use your telepathy often, do you?

Piten’s eyes narrowed with concentration.
It’s not very strong,
he thought. “Another gift from the Vindicarn.”

Cocking his head, Byron permitted a grin to tug at his lips. “That’s good to know.”

The comment elicited a scowl from the Rogue.

That means we have an advantage over the Vindicarn
, Byron thought, clarifying himself.
If something goes wrong, I can warn the Litheron faster than they can send a message.

“Ah…” said Piten. “Just hope none of them put a clamp over your mind first.”

“Sir?” said the security officer as he entered the main compartment. “The Vindicarn have signaled they’re ready for you.”

Byron placed his arm around Bassan’s shoulders and pointed him toward the hatch. The Rogue stepped into position on the other side of Bassan and cast a sideways glance at Byron.

Remember our deal,
Byron thought in a private message to Piten. “Open the hatch.”

The security officer pressed the button and returned to the cockpit. With a pop, the seal broke and the hatch opened. A blast of hot air hit Byron, reeking of dust and sand. He squinted against the bright light that poured into the shuttle. Not even the deserts of Tgren could’ve prepared him for the harsh environment of the Vindicarn’s home world. Small wonder their skins were so wrinkled and charred. No other race could survive on this planet.

His vision adjusted to the intensity of the light. Byron noticed several Vindicarn soldiers waiting at the bottom of the ramp. Gripping Bassan tighter, he stepped forward. The Vindicarn watched their every move with black eyes full of contempt. Byron had been in tight situations before, but none compared to this. He and his son were walking into a potential deathtrap.

Once on the ramp, he became aware of men on either side, their weapons drawn. Grateful Bassan was in the middle, Byron hoped his son couldn’t see the armed Vindicarn. The fear pounding in Bassan’s chest already had Byron worried. They needed to maintain their wits.

As they reached the bottom of the ramp, the attention of the Vindicarn shifted to Piten. No longer in the shadows of the shuttle, his dark skin revealed his heritage. Byron heard murmurs, but the expressions of those waiting didn’t change.

“Halt,” one man said, his voice grating from the depths of his chest.

They stopped and Bassan pressed close to Byron.

“Search them for weapons.”

Forced to release his son, Byron resigned himself to a search.

Just relax
, Byron thought, watching a Vindicarn pat down Bassan.
I’m right here.

Satisfied, the Vindicarn held up a small communication device and announced they were on their way. He turned toward the alien ship and the other men stepped aside. Byron and Piten exchanged glances before following the soldier.

Close the hatch
, Byron thought in a private message to the officer on the shuttle. No reason to tempt a bitter Vindicarn who might want to exact revenge.

Now that they were in the open, Byron viewed their surroundings. They were inside a massive hole. The loose sand pulled at his boots, slowing his pace. Ahead of them, the alien ship resided in the middle of the cavity. A large portion of it was still buried, but the top and a section of the side lay revealed. Once discovered, the Vindicarn had apparently dug it out in great haste. Even after a thousand years buried under the sand, the vessel’s surface still sparkled a brilliant blue in the sunlight. The outer hull of Tgren’s ship was hidden by rock, and Byron had expected the same drab grey as the probe.

I’ll have to let Mevine access this image when I return, Byron thought.

He glanced back at the shuttle and confirmed its hatch secured. Six Vindicarn vessels sat on the cleared swatch of sand, and several more rumbled overhead. Byron wondered if the extra security was due to Cherzta’s presence, or theirs. At least the Cassan shuttle was closest to the exit. If the code didn’t work or one leader failed to acknowledge the peace treaty, they had about thirty minutes to get clear of the planet.

Armed guards stood at attention as the Vindicarn entered the ship. Byron caught their hateful glares as they passed. He tightened his jaw muscles in an effort to conceal his own revulsion.