CassaSeries

Chapter Ten-1

Chapter Ten

30.75 degrees!

Byron altered his course as instructed, his eye on the drone. Another fighter flew over their ship in pursuit of a separate drone, but he paid it no heed. Their target began to dive and he followed with all intensity.

Quadrant 749, incoming!

The drone continued on its path, but Byron was forced to pull up as a Cosbolt emerged from a jump. The drone took advantage of the split second delay and accelerated to top speed.

Jumping, Quadrant 681! Byron thought.

Bassa relayed their intentions. The announcement consumed less than a second and Byron jumped before the thought vanished from his mind. Reappearing a few lengths behind the drone, he reduced speed and fired. The green light registered another direct hit.

That’s three today! he thought, banking left.

We’re on a roll, thought Bassa, calculating their next course of action.

Ever since Byron’s complete acceptance of Bassa’s place as his navigator, their performance in the cockpit showed vast improvement. As promised, Bassa now trusted his judgment, permitting Byron the freedom to exercise his ability as a pilot. In return, Byron no longer balked when his navigator suggested a different tactic or approach. It remained a struggle to permit Bassa full access to his mind, but he saw progress in that area as well. He couldn’t deny the results when they did connect and wanted the trend to continue.

One drone remaining, Bassa thought. Hannar’s on it.

Damn! I was hoping for one more.

Share the glory, thought Bassa, a hint of humor in his tone.

Once Hannar neutralized the final drone, they returned to the Sorenthia and joined their squadron in the debriefing room. When every man was present, Larnth began to cover the day’s exercise.

“Good flying, everyone. All drones neutralized within reasonable time and no Cosbolt losses. The squadron has adapted well to the changes in programming, which seem to simulate the Vindicarn’s flight patterns with a bit more accuracy. There were numerous multiple kills today, including three by Byron and Bassa’s team. Good job, men.

“Now, a couple items we need to work on…”

Byron listened, struggling to focus on Larnth’s words. That was the third time this week he and Bassa scored the most kills. The other officers might still resent a rookie in their squadron, but they couldn’t deny the figures his team posted. Those stats did not lie.

“For the last bit of news,” Larnth announced, his words cutting into Byron’s thoughts. “We are proceeding to a new location this afternoon, so tomorrow’s drills will take place in the simulator.”

There were scattered groans throughout the room. One look from the squadron leader silenced the protests.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that we’ll be stopping at Spaceport 89 en route,” he said.

That announcement brought a round of cheers. Larnth permitted a reserved smile to cross his face.

“You are dismissed!” he said.

The room erupted with chatter. Byron smiled at his navigator, excited by the news.

“Do I sense trouble?” Bassa said as they rose to their feet.

“Me?” cried Byron, eyes wide to feign innocence. “No trouble here. Just ready for some fun. You do remember fun, don’t you?”

“Yes, it was something I had before I met you.”

A hint of mischief in his eyes offset Bassa’s sarcastic reply. Byron imagined the older man had enjoyed adventurous exploits with reckless abandon when younger. He doubted his partner would repeat any of those escapades on Spaceport 89, but perhaps he could coax some of the stories from Bassa.

The Sorenthia docked at the spaceport two days later. The officers were given a ten-hour pass with implicit instructions to behave in a manner worthy of their position. Judging from the exchanges as the men walked down the ramp to freedom, that command was open to interpretation. Byron wondered how far Bassa would be willing to push the limit today.

The enclosed ramp spilled out into a secure hangar. Several minutes passed before they cleared the various checkpoints, and Byron grew restless. His navigator’s wry grin spoke of amusement regarding Byron’s eagerness to view his first spaceport. Unashamed of his feelings, Byron made no effort to contain or hide his enthusiasm.

Trust me, ten hours will be more than enough time to see everything, Bassa informed him as they followed Ernx and Nintal toward the exit.

Yes, but will it be enough time to do everything?

The women here are pretty fast, so I guess that depends on you.

Byron shot his partner a startled look. Bassa’s comments were always proper and reserved. His navigator winked, and Byron smiled. He stepped through the oversized doorway at the end of the tunnel and the thought vanished. Byron now viewed his very first spaceport.

An artificial sun shone from the vaulted ceiling, lighting the wide walkway that led to another tunnel at the far end. Rows of businesses and shops lined either side of the foot corridor, their designs unique and varied, and many boasted colorful signs and marquees. The glowing emblems and lights would take on a new life when the main lights dimmed at night, casting strange shadows across the crowds. Benches and computer terminals dotted the center of the walkway, and two large glass lifts were moving up the far wall, their compartments full.

From his vantage point on the wide balcony, Byron noted several species in evidence. He’d encountered most of the alien races at one point or another on Cassa, but not in such vast quantities. Only the molten-black skins of the Vindicarn appeared missing. The sea of beings moved like an ever-changing kaleidoscope, as colorful as the glowing shop signs. The spaceport boasted a wide variety of people and creatures, which meant the establishments would match the diversity represented. As promised, the men would not lack for entertainment while on Spaceport 89.

Someone brushed his arm in passing, and the sensation returned Byron to reality. He glanced at Bassa and noticed his navigator grinning at him. Aware that his mouth hung open, Byron straightened his shoulders and regained his composure. He hoped no one else caught his foolish expression.

“Come on, Byron!” said Ernx.

Without further delay, he and Bassa followed their friends down the short ramp. Joining the throngs of people on the main walkway, they navigated the obstacle course. The Sorenthia’s arrival coincided with the midday meal and various aromas permeated the air. The enticing smell of food caused his stomach to growl.

“First thing, I want some real food,” he announced.

“Real spicy food!” Ernx said, flashing a grin Byron’s direction. His eager expression altered when his gaze shifted to Bassa. “If that’s all right with you, sir?”

Bassa exhibited a patient smile. “Sure.”

The young man glanced at Byron, who offered a sly wink. Ernx’s smile returned.

Riding a lift to the next level, the men found an establishment to their liking. The small dining area was well lit, offsetting the dark red tapestries on the walls, and the atmosphere comfortable for casual dining. Several other officers were already present and indulging in the foreign cuisine. Hannar and Deacer occupied a large table in the corner and gestured for the newcomers to join them.

“A decent meal’s always the first order of business,” Deacer said with a smirk.

“Some things never change,” said Bassa, taking the seat next to the man.

Byron dropped into the chair beside Bassa, unsure of the present company. Hannar and Deacer rarely spoke to him on board the Sorenthia. However, in this casual setting they were a little more congenial. Byron’s two friends were not at a loss for words and discussed their plans for the day in detail. Among good company and food, Byron discovered that he enjoyed sharing a meal with the other officers.

“I think it’s time,” Ernx announced, glancing at his navigator, “to do some gambling.”

Nintal grinned and rose to his feet. “Anyone care to join us?” he said, scanning the table.

Deacer waved the men away. “That’s an evening activity for me,” he said, his smile suggesting amusement at their haste. “You young ones go waste your credits early.”

Ernx glanced at Byron, and he toyed with the idea of spending the day with his friends. Bassa held no interest in gambling, although he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. Byron decided to trust the wisdom of his partner and declined Ernx’s offer.

You could’ve joined them, Bassa thought as the young men departed.

Well, if I’m going to get into trouble, I’d fare better in your company, thought Byron.

Bassa and Byron set out to explore the spaceport, and Deacer and Hannar accompanied them. The experience new to Byron, he struggled to control his eager naiveté. Viewing the vast array of shops, shows and people, he realized that it would be easy for a young officer to run astray. Paired with Ernx and Nintal, the temptation to flirt with danger might overwhelm common sense. Under normal circumstances, he resented supervision and authoritative control, but the company of seasoned veterans seemed a wiser choice.

Entering a new section, the men hadn’t gone far when Hannar paused at the entryway of a small shop. The others stopped as the pilot let out an exclamation of surprise.

“They carry Torbethian artifacts,” he said, nodding at Deacer. “Sorry, I’ve got to go inside. My mate, she collects those things.”

Deacer gestured for his pilot to enter. Hannar stepped into the shop and Deacer glanced at Bassa.

“We’ll wait,” Bassa said. Unless you want to go inside, he asked Byron.

No thanks! Byron thought, his response punctuated by a mental chuckle.

Turning to face the mingling crowd, he scanned the other businesses. This level boasted independent vendors from across the galaxy and the collage of cultures and planets almost overwhelmed him. Byron entertained little desire for material possessions, and none of the displays presented items of interest. Eager to continue exploring, he hoped Hannar wouldn’t delay his selection longer than necessary.

“Damn, look who we have here!”

The sarcastic tone caught Byron’s attention and caused a ripple of annoyance in his thoughts. He turned to face the speaker and observed two officers bearing down on his and Bassa’s location. Their appearance scraggly and unkempt, they were not members of the Sorenthia The man in the lead smiled at Bassa, but nothing friendly resided in his evil grin. His tall, wiry frame and uneven gait suggested a rough life coupled with an even more difficult attitude. Sensing trouble, Byron braced himself as the officer came to an abrupt halt in front of Bassa, his shoulders back and chest forward in defiance.

“Cerenth,” Byron’s navigator said by way of acknowledgement, his voice calm but cold.

“Bassa,” the man said, drawling the name on purpose.

Animosity sparked between the two men, as evidenced in their defensive postures and narrowed eyes. Despite the man’s toughness as an instructor, others tended to like and respect Bassa. Byron wondered what circumstances could’ve invoked such resentment in Cerenth and regarded the stranger with caution.

“So what brings an instructor from Guaard all the way to Spaceport 89?” Cerenth said, crossing his arms.

Bassa’s expression tightened. “I am assigned to the Sorenthia now, and we are here on leave.”

The man’s eyes widened and anger exuded from his thoughts. “You’re flying again?” Cerenth demanded, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Yes,” Bassa replied with resignation.

Cerenth’s gaze shifted to Byron, who stood just behind and to one side of his navigator. “With him?”

“Yes, this is my pilot, Byron.”

That answer didn’t seem to please Cerenth. He stared at Byron with hostile eyes and an indignant sneer.

“A boy?” he cried. “You swore you’d never navigate again and you return to the fleet with an inexperienced child?”

Anger stirred in Byron and he clenched his fists. Those thoughts were demeaning enough coming from the officers of his squadron but intolerable from a complete stranger. It was but a small consolation that Bassa appeared just as enraged toward Cerenth.

“This young man is one of the best damn pilots I’ve ever encountered,” Bassa said. “And the reasons for my return to active duty are none of your business, Cerenth.”

“Do you plan to abandon this boy, too?”

“No, I don’t!” said Bassa, fury pouring from his thoughts like water. “And I didn’t abandon you. Cerenth. You knew the reason why I couldn’t continue as your navigator.”

The man took a step back and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I remember!” he said, his arms dropping to his sides. “You and your guilty conscience turned tail and ran, leaving me without a navigator. Do you know how many years it took me to find a decent replacement? How many degenerate, low-ranking assignments I endured due to incompetent navigators? By the time I acquired Durn, I no longer qualified for the better posts and all thanks to you!”