CassaSeries

Chapter Six-1

Chapter Six

Soaring over the plateau, Byron banked left. This sent his ship into a gentle dive. He glanced at his radar and counted seven planes on his tail. Following in a single, ragged line, the vessels mimicked his maneuver to the best of their ability. He’d lost a couple of them during the course of the morning, but none of the pilots straggled now.

Skimming the craggy side of the plateau, Byron pulled away and leveled his flight. It felt good to fly his Darten again. The ship protested the tame flight patterns, but he couldn’t outfly the Tgren planes or place the pilots in danger. He’d let the tiny fighter enjoy her freedom when they returned to space.

Any problems back there? he asked Athee.

We’re good, she responded.

The plane directly behind him rolled back and forth. Byron grinned at the movement, which did not alter the aircraft’s course or cause it to lose momentum. Athee’s control and precision flying were admirable qualities in a pilot her age. The woman possessed an excellent sense of placement. She was daring, but not stupid. If Athee stayed the course, no pilot on this planet would match her abilities.

Imagine what she could’ve done in a Cassan fighter, he thought.

Byron checked the formation while contemplating the next maneuver. The third plane dipped lower and began to weave from side to side.

I think Istaner is bored, Athee informed him.

Gritting his teeth, Byron gripped the throttle tighter. I think your cousin is a pain in the ass, he replied, unable to conceal his distaste for the arrogant pilot.

Athee chuckled. Her amusement eased Byron’s concerns. He’d taken a chance insulting the prefect’s son. Fortunately, his protégée was sensible. She was not impressed with Istaner’s abilities in the cockpit, regardless of his social and family status.

Well, he began, feel up to a challenge?

You bet. What do you have in mind?

Byron glanced at the radar. They were approaching a mountainous area, filled with numerous peaks and valleys. It was perfect for what he had in mind.

Tell the others to keep up if they can. But no stupid moves. Your uncle would call for my head if any of you died on my watch.

He waited while she relayed the information. The Darten’s cockpit lacked room for the clumsy portable radio he’d used in the shuttle, for which he felt grateful. The primitive device was a poor excuse for a communication module. Besides, he possessed a far more reliable means for conveying his instructions.

We’re ready, Athee called.

Altering his course, Byron increased his speed. The planes lagged for a moment before catching up to the fighter. Smiling as they approached the first narrow valley, he prepared to enjoy himself. Istaner wouldn’t be bored now!

Banking to his left, Byron slipped into the valley. The mountains flashed by in a blur of red and gold. The walls drew closer and the canyon began to twist and turn. Byron reduced his speed, aware the planes were incapable of performing such tight maneuvers at their current pace. However, he didn’t want to make it too easy for the Tgren pilots. If they were to improve, they had to stretch.

Pulling up on the throttle, he altered course. The Darten shot out of the narrow valley. Glancing at the radar, Byron saw one plane totter and drop behind. Altering the ship’s trajectory, he sent the Darten into a nosedive. Another plane missed the mark and fell behind, but the others managed to stay with the Cassan fighter.

Selecting a deep valley, he reduced speed. The Darten slipped in between the sandy cliffs. One airplane came in too fast and dropped close to the canyon’s surface. Byron breathed a sigh of relief as the pilot corrected his course. Flying near the valley’s peaks, he continued following the erratic pattern as it sliced across the plains. Several planes faltered, pulling above the mountainous ridges to avoid impact before returning to formation, and one aircraft gave up entirely.

Byron was enjoying the chase, but he needed to push the Tgren pilots harder. Pulling out of the valley, he gained altitude. The open air beckoned like the vast expanse of space. Now he could demonstrate the maneuverability of the Darten without the risk of sending a plane into the side of a mountain.

Reining in his speed, Byron ran through his standard drill. He led the planes on a wild chase across the sky, always remaining several lengths in front of his pupils. One by one, the Tgren vessels dropped behind, unable to keep pace with his tight turns. He grinned when the third plane missed a turn and was forced to give up the chase. Istaner wasn’t so skilled after all.

Swinging wide, he visually confirmed that only two planes remained. Athee still clung to his tail and he believed the second ship belonged to Erenta. The most capable of the seven pilots, he was not surprised they were the only ones to match his maneuvers.

Athee’s triumphant cry echoed in his mind. You couldn’t shake me!

Byron smiled. He had one remaining trick. Oh yeah?

Touching the teleporter, he jumped the ship. Reappearing behind the second plane, Byron chuckled as both aircraft’s flights wavered.

Gotcha! he announced.

You teleported. That’s not fair.

Laughing at her angry retort, Byron accelerated and shot over both planes. Within seconds, they were but specks in the sky.

Byron!

Performing a tight roll, he circled around. You wanted to see what the Darten could do, he offered. Displaying the power and agility of his fighter wasn’t the only reason for his antics, but it provided an excuse. The Tgren pilots needed to be reminded of the superior technology of the Cassan fleet.

He flew past the planes and they pivoted to follow. That concludes today’s lesson, he told Athee, leading the Tgrens toward Ktren. I’ll see you this afternoon.

You bet you will, Athee replied, annoyance evident in her mental voice.

Byron chuckled. He rose higher while the Tgren planes continued on to the city. His eyes strayed to the lead plane. Athee would be difficult this afternoon if he didn’t pacify her now.

You flew well, he thought as he tapped into the teleporter. She didn’t respond, but his compliment had the desired effect of curtailing her irritation.

He returned to the Rennather in high spirits. As he was leaving the hangar, Byron almost ran into Mevine. The young man tried unsuccessfully to prevent his pack from falling yet somehow managed to hang on to the box in his hands.

“Officer Byron, I’m sorry,” he cried, struggling to maintain hold of the box.

Byron scooped the bag from the floor and held it out for Mevine. “That’s all right. I didn’t expect to see you on the Rennather again so soon.”

Mevine nodded and took the pack from Byron, slinging the bag across his shoulders. “I had to return for some clean clothes and new equipment. I’m sorry, I was trying to catch the shuttle before it departed.”

Frowning, Byron glanced over his shoulder. The second shuttle was nowhere in sight. “I think you missed it.”

Mevine stepped forward and scanned the hangar, his mouth open in horror. “I tried to hurry,” he said, adjusting the pack when it threatened to fall off his shoulders. “I need to get back to the site this afternoon.”

“Garnce will take you to the planet’s surface when he returns.”

The young man’s face fell. “He’ll be so mad,” he murmured.

Byron had no doubt Garnce would offer a few choice words on the matter. His fellow pilot possessed little patience. The lad’s expression suggested he’d already tangled once with the pilot and didn’t care to repeat the experience. Byron realized he felt sorry for the science officer. The least he could do was save Mevine from Garnce’s wrath.

“You’re welcome to catch a ride with me after the midday meal,” he offered.

Mevine’s eyes widened. “Really, sir?”

“Sure, it’s not a problem. Have you eaten?”

When Mevine shook his head, Byron held out his hand. “Let’s store your gear first and then grab a bite to eat,” he said, relieving Mevine of his bag before it tumbled again from his bony shoulder.

The boy attacked his food with relish. Byron wondered if Mevine had eaten at all today. No wonder he’s so scrawny, he thought as the plate emptied. Someone needs to monitor his food consumption.

Eventually Mevine’s food no longer vanished at an alarming rate. Byron asked the science officer of his progress with the alien language. The lad’s expression brightened and he launched into a detailed account. His enthusiasm bubbled forth as he explained a recent breakthrough and potential deciphering of the language. Mevine appeared happiest when discussing his work. While Byron was unable to comprehend the particulars of language interpretation, he understood Mevine’s passion. Flying was Byron’s primary infatuation, and the only thing that caused his pulse to quicken.

“I need to retrieve another flight suit from my quarters,” Byron announced as they exited the dining hall. “Should only take a minute.”

Taking the nearest telepod, he led Mevine to the officers’ level. Byron entered his quarters and moved toward his long locker. He glanced at his computer screen. No messages awaited his attention. Over the years, he’d lost contact with most of his comrades, but on occasion he received messages from Ernx and Nintal. The last time he’d seen his former squad members, Nintal had achieved the position of squadron leader. The navigator and his pilot were starting a new assignment on another flagship. Byron couldn’t help but speculate about his own rank had he remained a Cosbolt pilot. Without his navigator, that would forever remain a mystery.

He noticed Mevine hovering outside the door. “You may enter,” said Byron, opening his locker.

The thin door clattered against the wall and Byron reached for a flight suit. Only one suit remained, a testament to his lack of clean clothes. I need to bring my dirty laundry next trip, he thought, folding the suit over his arm.

Closing the door, Byron discovered Mevine peering at the photo by his computer. He’d forgotten the framed picture resided in plain sight. Byron hesitated, unsure how to respond to the situation. Mevine straightened his shoulders and glanced around the room. The young man’s eyes fell on Byron and he snapped to attention.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was only looking,” he said, his words tumbling across his tongue. “Is that, I mean, was that your navigator?”

Byron nodded. “Yes.”

Mevine glanced again at the photo. “You were really young.”

“That was taken on the Sorenthia, so I was probably a year or two younger than you are now.”

Turning to face him, Mevine raised his chin. “He must’ve meant a lot to you.”

Spoken in earnest, those words stirred Byron’s emotions. His gaze traveled to the photo as he recalled the man who’d changed his life. His former navigator had believed in him until the end. He’d never find a friend like Bassa again.

“He was closer than a brother,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry, sir,” offered Mevine.

Sensing sympathy from the scientist, Byron cut off his thoughts and raised his personal shields. “Shall we go?” he said, gesturing toward the door.

The other shuttle returned as Byron was preparing to depart. He exchanged greetings with Garnce, but refrained from mentioning the passenger aboard his ship. The pilot complained that demanding science officers were cutting into his meals and Byron chuckled. Garnce deserved the aggravation.

In the co-pilot’s seat, Mevine sighed. “Thank you again, sir,” he said, brushing aside his unkempt hair.

“No problem,” Byron replied, increasing speed as the ship left the hangar.

The lad sank further into his seat. “I wish I was closer to my brother,” he said, fidgeting with his harness. “We don’t have anything in common though.”

“Is your brother military?”

“Oh no! He’s a resident councilor, following in our father’s footsteps.”

Byron frowned. “Who’s your father?”

“Chancellor Dentex.”

Startled, he glanced at Mevine. “I didn’t know you came from such a prestigious family,” he said, surprised by Mevine’s background. The boy didn’t act like the son of a chancellor.

The young man shrugged. “I’m pretty much an outcast, so it doesn’t do me a lot of good.”

Byron pondered that thought as he tapped into the teleporter. A moment later, the blue skies of Tgren filled their view.

“Do you have any family?” Mevine asked, his eyes on Byron.

“Older sister. Haven’t spoken to her in years,” he answered curtly.

“No mate?’

“No time.”

Mevine’s head dropped against the seat. “I want a mate someday. Be nice to share my experiences with someone who cared.”

Unable to respond to Mevine’s candid admission, Byron guided the ship to the alien site in silence. Mevine thanked him for the ride before bounding out of the shuttle. Byron secured the hatch and returned to his seat. He stared at the controls, his mind replaying their exchange.