CassaSeries

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Byron returned Athee to the planet’s surface, lost deep in thought. When the shuttle landed, he noted the time. The trip to the Rennather had devoured most of the morning. Pilot training would have to wait until tomorrow. Athee promised to meet Byron later that afternoon for her first session. She bounded across the runway, her mood as high as her steps.

Glad you’re excited, Byron thought, still dreading the experience.

Garnce’s shuttle sat near the main hangar. There were several crates beside the hatch waiting to be loaded. Byron emerged from his ship the same moment as Garnce. The man approached him and talked Byron into an early lunch. Listening to the pilot grumble over poorly loaded cargo did nothing to settle his mind. When they returned to the shuttles, two Tgrens approached carrying a small carton between them. They requested transport to the alien site.

“It’s very fragile,” one of the men explained, glancing at the container.

“Damn, I was just there an hour ago!” Garnce exclaimed, gesturing toward the mountains.

The pilot’s reaction brought the Tgrens to an abrupt halt, the carton swinging between them. Byron quickly intervened.

“I can take you,” he offered.

Garnce shook his head. These people are so damned disorganized, he thought as the men followed Byron to his ship.

Once at the site, the Tgrens thanked Byron for a smooth flight and carried their cargo into the cave. However, Byron was in no hurry to return to Ktren. Determined to kill some time, he followed the men to the control center.

The scene was just as chaotic as the previous day. The hum of machinery and numerous voices assaulted Byron’s ears. He sidestepped two scientists and brushed against a panel. Several new pieces of equipment were in evidence, creating an obstacle course. Locating Mevine at his station, Byron decided to have a word with him.

An untouched plate of food sat nearby. Hunched over his computer screen, Mevine seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

“You’re not eating?” Byron asked.

Mevine jumped, his body lifting from the stool. He looked up at Byron, then glanced at his waiting meal.

“I will,” he promised. “Sir.”

“You’ll function better with some food in your stomach,” Byron said. He’d missed many meals over the years, but few were by choice.

Mevine’s chin dropped and he reached for his bread. “You’re right, sir. I just lost track of time.”

Leaning closer, Byron peered at Mevine’s computer screen. “Any progress?”

Chomping down on the roll’s crust, the lad touched his keypad with his free hand. The display changed, revealing a large portion of alien text.

“The problem is it’s a mixture of symbols, numerals, and a written language. Or so we believe,” said Mevine through a mouthful of food. “We’ve isolated the numbers and a team is working on them now. We’re still trying to separate the letters from the symbols, though. If indeed they are two different entities.”

“You’re not sure?”

Mevine shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “I can show you some of the encryptions if you like,” he offered, glancing up at Byron and poising his fingers over the keypad in anticipation.

Byron shook his head. “Afraid I can’t stay. I was given a new assignment to occupy my afternoons.”

“Oh?”

“One of the Tgrens shows remarkable psychic talent and I’m to train her on the use of those powers.”

“Her?” Mevine’s face broke into a smile.

“Yes, a young woman. One of the pilots.”

The lad swiveled on his stool to face Byron. “Is she pretty?” he asked.

Byron chuckled, amused by the boy’s interest in such a minor detail. “Yeah, I guess so,” he admitted, trying not to dwell on Athee’s appearance. He didn’t need further distractions; her powers of manipulation were enough.

“Sounds like a good assignment to me, sir.”

“If you say so. Well, I need to return,” he said, taking a step away from the young man. “And you need to eat.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man answered, blindly reaching for another handful of food. In his haste, he almost knocked the plate to the floor.

Byron shook his head as he retreated from the room. At least he’d maintained more poise when he was Mevine’s age. Coordination was not a skill the young officer possessed, outside of the grav court. The lad was all right, though. Without question, he was far better company than Garnce.

When he arrived at Illenth’s office, Byron found Athee waiting. She was chatting with the senior officer, but ceased the moment her instructor entered the room. Pivoting her body to face him, she flashed a triumphant smile.

“I’m ready,” she declared, straightening her shoulders.

Byron glanced at Illenth, hoping the man would come to his rescue and offer assistance. The officer presented a smile and gestured toward the door.

“I’ve two men to test this afternoon,” he explained. “But there’s an empty room across the hall that should suit your needs.”

Athee’s eagerness rang loud in Byron’s mind. She strode past the pilot with a bounce in her step. He flinched, but the psyche officer gave no indication that her mental transmissions bothered him. Puzzled, Byron shot Illenth an inquisitive look.

You can’t hear her?

I sense the stir of emotions in her presence, just not to the extent that you do. Your perception is far stronger than mine, he replied with a shrug. Let me know if you need anything.

I need my head examined for agreeing to this, Byron thought, following Athee into the hall.

The room was small. It boasted only one elongated window from which sunshine streamed. A desk, a table and three chairs occupied the office, creating a sterile and lifeless environment. It suited Byron’s needs, though. At least the room’s temperature felt cool on his face.

“Take a seat, please,” he said, gesturing to the chairs around the table.

Athee sat in a chair. Adjusting her position, she pulled it closer to the table. Byron secured the door and selected the chair opposite the young woman. She wiggled even closer, a grin on her face. Athee placed her elbows and hands on the table.

“You’re teaching me how to shield first?” she asked, repeating Byron’s words from earlier that morning.

Leaning one arm on the table, he took a deep breath. “Not just yet.”

“What does it mean to shield?”

“Shielding is to prevent your thoughts from broadcasting and also to prevent others from entering your mind.”

“Oh. Why did you claim you’d teach me to shield first?”

Under the table, Byron’s hand grasped his knee in an effort to remain patient with the woman. “Because you are broadcasting your emotions for all to hear.”

Athee’s eyes widened and she leaned away from the table. “You know what I’m feeling? What I’m thinking?” she gasped in a horrified voice.

“I can’t hear specific thoughts, just general feelings,” he assured Athee, hoping to quiet the panic that pulsated from her mind. “I’ll teach you how to control that, but first, I need to teach you how to access it.”

She eyed him with caution and leaned forward again. “How do I do that?”

Byron reached deep into his memory. A disrupter blast had numbed Bassa’s senses. Athee’s abilities weren’t inactive, just out of control. Helping her to find the proper channels would be easier than coaxing mental powers from the ashes of a disrupter-fried mind. At least, he hoped that was the case.

“First, I need you to stop talking,” Byron instructed, “and relax.”

Athee’s mind settled into a gentle stir of excitement tinged with anxiety. “Now what?”

“You’re still talking.”

“Sorry.”

Byron shook his head. This was going to be difficult. Why couldn’t Narunva train her on the Rennather? Surely, the man had more experience with new psychic powers. Was there a reason Korden wanted Byron to work with Athee?

Pressing both elbows on the table, he fixed the Tgren woman with a firm stare. She returned his gaze without the slightest trace of intimidation, her green eyes unusually bright in the low light. He’d meant to turn on the light, but didn’t want to get up now. The window provided enough illumination for his purpose.

Hear my voice?

Her lips parted in surprise. “Yes.”

No, I need you to respond with your mind. Hear my voice and answer me with your thoughts.

Byron sensed her attempt to reply. Her thoughts stirred, but formed no clear words. He enticed her to respond several times, desperate for Athee to answer without assistance. After a few moments, she leaned away in frustration.

“What am I doing wrong?” she said, clenching her fists.

Dropping his chin, Byron pulled his arms tighter across his chest. Entering another’s mind was not an experience he relished. Since she appeared unable to connect with the correct brain waves, he needed to go in and pull her thoughts along the path. Like it or not, he had to encroach upon her thoughts.

Let me show you how.

Entering Athee’s mind, he felt for the portion that controlled telepathy. Most Cassans resisted probing to a degree, as it violated one’s privacy. Byron detested the sensation. To his surprise, Athee offered no resistance. Her mind was open and willing, like that of a child. Unprepared for such trust, Byron fumbled for a moment before locating the telepathic center of her mind. Now he had only to connect and provide a path for Athee to follow.

You need to stretch those mental muscles. Follow my voice. Focus on nothing else but the strength of my voice. You possess the same ability. Talk to me as if you were speaking out loud, only use your mind instead.

How?

Just like that.

Athee’s eyes grew wide. Byron nodded and gestured with his fingers for her to continue. Again. Follow my voice and tell me your name.

Determination arose deep within her mind. Athee, her thoughts whispered.

Louder! Project that voice and talk to me.

Her brows came together. Athee, she thought, her mental voice stronger but still faint.

Project louder. Give it some effort. Damn, woman–I know you like to talk!

I do not!

Byron grinned. He’d struck a nerve. Yes, you do. Now prove it.

Athee frowned, indignation flowing through her mind. Now you’re mocking me.

No, I am trying to get you to use your mental voice by any means possible.

She continued to banter with him. Every time Athee used her telepathy, her voice grew stronger. Much to his relief, it began to overshadow her emotional projections. Under normal circumstances, constant chatter irritated Byron. Something in the innocence of Athee discovering her mental voice for the first time prevented the experience from grating on his nerves. Her genuine delight and eager questions regarding her telepathy reminded him of a babbling stream; a constant noise that soothed the senses.

Noticing the passage of time through the open window, Byron leaned away from the table. He realized his legs and back were stiff from sitting. He’d dreaded this experience, but survived several hours of intense mental training. His obligations were satisfied, at least for today.

Now remember, if you use your mental voice around other Cassans, they will hear you, he cautioned as they exited the room. I’ll show you how to shield tomorrow, but for the time being, don’t project.

And don’t make any smart remarks?

A smirk tugged at her lips. Byron sensed mischief and returned her grin.

Don’t pick a fight with someone who can kick your ass, he thought before retreating to the stairwell that led to the sleeping quarters. Because I won’t save you.

“You wanted to see me, Uncle?”

Orellen glanced up from his work. His desk was strewn with papers, but the ones in his hand caught Athee’s eye. The prefect liked to check flight patterns on occasion and held the week’s patrol schedule.

“Yes, I did,” he said, laying aside the papers.

“All of the patrols have been covered,” she asserted, concerned her uncle might think she’d slacked in her duties as lead pilot. Athee had designated other pilots to fill the void in the schedule due to her training with Byron.

“Yes, and to my satisfaction.” The prefect leaned back in his chair, his thick fingers strumming the desk. “Istaner informed me of your flying instructions today with the Cassan officer.”

I bet he did! Athee thought, shifting her weight. Istaner had vocalized his dissatisfaction with Byron’s training style more than once in her presence. She tended to ignore her cousin’s grumblings. Istaner complained about everything.

“But you’ve failed to report your progress with the psychic aspect of that man’s training,” he said, fixing her with a fierce stare. His expression did not intimidate Athee.

“I’m sorry, Uncle. We’ve had two sessions thus far. I learned how to focus on my powers yesterday. Today Byron taught me how to project and shield my thoughts. By the time we finished, he stated I was quite proficient.”