CassaSeries

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Scurrying up the ladder, Byron hastened to his seat. Bassa joined him in the cockpit and they ran through the emergency checklist in record time. The moment the ship’s canopy sealed, their ship moved into position.

“Seven squadrons of Vindicarn ships confirmed,” Larnth announced over the com. “Engage immediately. Repeat, engage immediately!”

Seven? Guess they’re serious this time, Byron thought.

They’re making an attack run on the ship, thought Bassa. We’re going to be shot out into the thick of it, so be prepared.

Damn, they’re not giving us much chance.

Welcome to war.

Byron checked the weapons again as they slid into the launch tube. The outer door opened and even at that distance, he noted enemy fighters against the stars. The moment they left the safety of the Sorenthia, Vindicarns would be upon them.

“Three… two… one…”

Byron kept his eyes on the section of space they were about to occupy and hoped their ship wouldn’t collide with enemy craft. A Vindicarn ship flew past just as they emerged and Byron pulled a hard left to avoid impact. Before he could acquire his bearings, laser fire streaked over their canopy.

Jump! Bassa thought, the coordinates flashing in Byron’s mind.

Without hesitation, he teleported to the new position. Bassa’s calculations placed them on the trail of an enemy ship and Byron fired. In the blink of an eye, they went from potential casualty to victor.

“Defend that launch tube!” Larnth ordered.

Give the others a fighting chance, thought Bassa as Byron maneuvered their ship through the ensuing confusion.

They returned to the launch tubes. Vindicarn ships swarmed the area, waiting like scavengers for an easy kill. Byron brought the ship in at an angle and engaged the first enemy vessel that crossed his path. Before the ship had time to evade, he dispatched the Vindicarn with one shot.

Five more Cosbolts about to launch! Bassa thought.

Hannar’s ship joined them and the teams flew cross patterns across the launch tubes, determined to prevent the slaughter of their fellow pilots. Byron focused on the ships in front of him, Bassa’s voice in his head. Now their fifth encounter since the declaration of war, he’d learned to rely on his navigator’s guidance. If they were to remain alive, Byron and Bassa had to trust each other.

Once their squadron was in the air and other ships assumed defense of the launch tubes, they moved away from the Sorenthia and engaged the enemy one-on-one. Byron ignored the flashes of light around their ship. If the explosions the result of their own ships’ demise, he couldn’t help those teams now anyway.

Caught up in the fight, he missed the exact point when the enemy’s numbers began to dwindle. Adrenaline continued to course through his body, but not at the same frantic pace. Byron pursued every new target and Bassa guided his pilot. If the older officer preferred they rein in their attack, he did not voice his thoughts to Byron.

Without warning, the enemy fighters closest to the Sorenthia turned and headed for deep space. Byron followed the Vindicarn ships, hoping for one more kill.

Pull back, thought Bassa.

With reluctance, Byron eased back on the throttle. He watched as the enemy vessels convened, and in a flash of light, vanished from view.

Good thing they only do longs jumps, Bassa thought.

Byron sagged in his seat. His shoulders ached from the intensity of the battle. As he brought the ship around, he caught sight of a Cosbolt motionless in space, and recognized his friend’s vessel at once. He could discern no visible damage, but Byron knew something was very wrong.

Ernx? he thought. Ernx, talk to me!

Nintal’s been hit by a disrupter! came the desperate reply.

Bring your ship around, thought Bassa. You’ve got to get him back to the Sorenthia immediately.

He’s not answering me!

Hearing the panic in Ernx’s voice, Byron pulled up beside their ship. Ernx, follow me, he thought, hoping he could entice the frantic pilot to safety. Come on, Nintal needs help!

Ernx’s ship altered position. Byron throttled forward a few lengths and waited. His friend’s ship began to move, and the fighters glided toward the landing bay. Bassa informed the hangar medics of the incoming injured navigator. Judging from the exchange, Byron suspected Nintal not the only casualty of today’s battle.

The ships landed without incident and taxied into the hangar together. The moment Ernx’s canopy retracted, he leapt out of the cockpit and turned to assist his navigator. Byron yanked off his helmet, his eyes on the pair as medical technicians rushed up the ladder. He scrambled to his feet and slid down the service ladder before Bassa even exited the craft.

Racing to Ernx’s ship, he paused as the medics brought Nintal down to the waiting gurney. His face twisted with agony and Byron winced. Ernx grasped his friend’s hand as the navigator was stretched out on the gurney, his thoughts in turmoil. Aghast at the sight, Byron touched Ernx’s shoulder, hoping he could offer a measure of comfort. Ernx glanced up, his eyes wide with fear.

“I couldn’t dive fast enough!” he said. “He took a direct hit.”

“He’ll be all right,” said Byron, feeling Ernx’s fear in the pit of his stomach

The medics indicated they were ready to move Nintal. Byron glanced over his shoulder, seeking Bassa’s reassurance. His navigator remained by their ship met Byron’s gaze.

Go with Ernx, he thought.

Byron nodded, although uncomfortable with the situation. He followed the procession out of the hangar, his eyes on his friends. Ernx still held his navigator’s hand, talking to Nintal as they entered the telepod. Too far gone in pain to hear the encouraging words, the man’s white-knuckled grip on Ernx’s hand revealed his awareness. No agony echoed in Nintal’s mind, as his senses remained numb from the disrupter blast, but Ernx’s thoughts projected loud and clear. The ripples of fear and anger threatened to overwhelm. If not for Bassa’s orders, Byron would’ve run from the unpleasant scene.

Once they reached the medical facility, Ernx was forced to relinquish his friend’s hand. The technicians continued through the double doors, leaving Byron and Ernx behind. Unable to follow, Ernx stared in frustration at the doors, his mind a jumble of anxious emotions.

Byron grasped his shoulder. Ernx gave no indication of awareness of Byron’s presence and continued to stare ahead.

“He took that hit full force,” he mumbled.

Desperation emanated unchecked from Ernx. Unnerved by the emotional outpouring from his otherwise stable friend, Byron faltered. Beneath his fingertips, Ernx trembled.

“I can’t even hear him…”

Byron wished he knew how to comfort his friend. Fighting the urge to flee, as Ernx’s agony pounded at his senses, Byron scanned the waiting room. A bench sat unoccupied near the main entrance.

“Come on,” he said, pulling on Ernx’s shoulder. “All you can do now is wait.”

The distraught pilot allowed Byron to guide him to the bench and he dropped like a stone onto its surface. Ernx leaned forward, elbows on his knees and shoulders hunched, and grasped his hands together. He continued to stare at the double doors, his longing to be with Nintal filling the room.

“If he loses his senses,” Ernx murmured, “I’m not flying with another navigator.”

“He won’t,” said Byron. “And you can’t even think about that right now.”

Ernx glanced at Byron, his eyes wide. “You don’t understand. We’ve been together since the beginning. Nintal’s my best friend and I refuse to fly with anyone else. Ever!”

Stunned by the conviction in his friend’s voice, Byron stared at Ernx, at a total loss for words. Shaking his head, Ernx’s gaze dropped to the floor. Annoyed by his inability to comfort his friend, Byron realized it stemmed from the fact he completely lacked the skill. In the past, no one ever comforted him, and he didn’t know how to reach out to another person.

Unable to offer support in the manner he desired, Byron resorted to the only remaining option. He grasped Ernx’s shoulder, hoping his physical presence would suffice. His friend glanced in his direction and nodded before returning his gaze to the floor. With no further exchange, they awaited word of Nintal’s condition.

An hour passed before a technician emerged to retrieve Ernx. His navigator now slept off the effects of the disrupter blast, and Ernx was free to wait by his side. Shooting Byron an anxious but thankful look, the pilot followed the medic into the main facility.

His presence no longer required, Byron retreated to his quarters. Body exhausted on every level, his stomach rumbled from a lack of food. Grabbing a shower and a change of clothes, Byron went in search of a decent meal.

The heavy mood of the room hit him upon entering. Few men remained. The dining hall still served the evening meal and he retrieved a tray of food. Byron toyed with the idea of returning to his quarters, but a light touch on his mind alerted him to Bassa’s presence. Locating his navigator with a small group of officers, Byron joined his friend. He needed Bassa’s stable and wise nature right now.

A couple men nodded as he joined them, sitting across from his partner. The older man’s expression was solemn but resigned as he regarded his pilot.

“How’s Nintal?” he said.

“Sleeping right now,” Byron replied, poking at his food with his fork. “I stayed with Ernx until he was allowed to see him.”

“Sleep’s the kindest thing right now,” said Wentar. “Especially when it feels as if your mind’s on fire.”

Byron met his navigator’s eyes. “No wonder he was in so much pain,” he murmured.

“Takes a day for the senses to return. Although sometimes they don’t,” Bassa said.

Byron frowned, disturbed by that possibility. Recalling the sounds originating from behind the double doors in the medical facility, unnerving to those waiting in the main room, Byron suspected Nintal not the only injured man.

There were several casualties today, Bassa thought in private. Three injuries in our squadron and… we lost Menth’s team.

That news settled on Byron’s thoughts like a lead ball. He swallowed his half-chewed mouthful of food and reached for his water. Death was a very real possibility for those who flew fighters, but up to this point, their squadron sustained no losses. Despite his feelings toward Menth and his navigator, their death was disconcerting.

Reluctant to hear more on the matter, Byron instead concentrated on his food. The conversations around the table soon subsided as the men departed. By the time he finished eating, only Bassa remained to keep him company. Shoving aside his tray, Byron noticed four other officers in the hall. Leaning his elbows on the table, he met Bassa’s gaze.

Are you all right? his navigator thought.

Byron nodded, his eyes dropping to the table. Just tired.

How’s Ernx holding up?

That question bothered Byron. He’s worried about Nintal. Says he won’t fly without him.

They’re a close team. I’m sure he appreciated your presence.

Bassa’s comment sent a surge of emotion through Byron’s mind. He raised his shields in an effort to hide his feelings and inability to comfort Ernx. His ineptness as a friend continued to trouble him. Bassa’s comment regarding the team’s tight bond also bothered Byron. He doubted any man on the Sorenthia entertained similar thoughts about his bond with Bassa.

Byron…

Bassa’s prodding was light and not intended to feel intrusive. Relaxing his mental shields, he raised his head and met Bassa’s gaze. His navigator’s patient expression spoke of understanding.

“Don’t think I did any good,” Byron mumbled. “I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat with him.”

“Sometimes that’s enough.”

Thoughts of reassurance accompanied his navigator’s words. Byron suspected the comment carried a double meaning and applied to him as well. After all, he’d sought Bassa’s company knowing his friend’s presence would provide comfort.

“Well, I may excel in the cockpit, but I sure lack everywhere else,” Byron grumbled, crossing his arms.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” said Bassa, leaning back in his seat.

Byron shook his head. “I’m better with machines than I am with people.”

“At one time, that may have been true. But not now. You are a far greater friend than you realize.”

Raising his gaze, Byron stared at his navigator in disbelief. Why Bassa continued to see anything of value in him remained beyond Byron. His navigator provided encouragement beyond his role in the cockpit, while Byron felt he contributed little to their friendship. Comforting Ernx was difficult enough. He doubted he’d even know how to respond if Bassa received a similar injury.

Bassa’s curious expression alerted Byron that his thoughts were exposed. Alarmed, he silenced his mental voice and shifted in his seat. His unguarded moments occurred too often now for his tastes, and he couldn’t understand the reason for such frequent lapses.

Offering a reassuring smile, Bassa sat up straight. “You are far more capable than you realize, Byron,” he said, grasping his tray as he rose to his feet. “One day you will see that.”

Unwilling to sit alone in the hall, Byron departed with his navigator. Drained by the day’s events, especially those that occurred after the fight with the Vindicarn, his feet drug as he moved. Byron hoped he could retire early this evening.

Emerging from the telepod, Bassa’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Don’t spend all night on your report,” he said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow may be more of the same.”

“Hope you follow your own advice,” Byron countered. Bassa’s fatigue seemed just as apparent.

His navigator offered a smile. “I promise I will sleep hard tonight.”

The morning held drills for their squadron. The mood remained subdued, but no one faltered in his flight pattern. The men were dismissed from the debriefing with a reminder that they were still on alert. After the previous day’s long morning patrol and afternoon battle, Byron hoped the remainder of his day was a little less eventful.

Inquiring on his friends, he discovered they now resided in Nintal’s quarters. The navigator’s senses were returning and Ernx seemed delighted his friend would soon return to full capacity.

“I started hearing Nintal about two hours ago,” Ernx stated with pride, beaming at his partner. “We’ve been connecting and exchanging thoughts ever since!”

His navigator returned his eager grin. Seated at his table, Nintal’s posture sagged, but his eyes sparkled with energy. The man’s thoughts loud and echoed throughout the room, Byron couldn’t miss the gratitude Nintal expressed toward his pilot.

“I’m wondering at what point he’ll tell me to shut up, too,” he said.

“Considering the alternative, you can chatter in my head all day long!” said Ernx.

Byron grinned at their easy banter. It reminded him of Trindel and his comical monologue. He doubted his former navigator’s endless chatter in his head would be a pleasant experience, though.

Ernx grasped the chair opposite Nintal with one hand. “The medics instructed me how to connect with Nintal and entice his senses to function again. My thoughts provided a path to follow. Now it’s just a matter of keeping the mental exchanges going while his mind grows strong again.”

“You can’t imagine the lack of feeling,” Nintal said in a grave voice. “It was just nothingness until I heard Ernx’s voice in my head. I grabbed on to that sound as if my life depended on it. Ernx led me out of the darkest place I’ve ever known.”

The depth of conviction and feelings of gratitude broadcast strong from Nintal. Ernx ducked his head, as if embarrassed by his friend’s assessment of the situation. However, the exchange that passed between the men spoke of great friendship and trust.

Shifting his position, Byron cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to continue the healing process,” he said, nodding at Nintal. “Glad you’ll recover.”

The navigator smiled and a hand grasped his shoulder.

“Thanks for waiting with me yesterday,” Ernx said in earnest, his gratitude transparent and obvious with his mental shields lowered. “That meant a lot to me.”

“Least I could do,” Byron said, eager to leave the room.

Once out in the hallway, he breathed a sigh of relief. The lack of mental inhibitions had almost overwhelmed his senses. Byron felt relieved Nintal would regain his mental abilities, as navigators needed to communicate telepathically with their pilots. Ernx wouldn’t be forced to make a career- changing decision. Judging from their commitment level, neither man would’ve continued without the other.

Byron wondered if his devotion to Bassa enough to pas that test and decided not to dwell on that thought.

Bassa poked at the remaining food on his plate, contemplating his next bite. Constant dogfights for four days straight had taken its toll on his body and he found he possessed no appetite. Giving up the effort, he dropped his fork on the tray.

Byron glanced up from his meal. “Nothing tastes good tonight,” he observed, hunching further over his plate.

Rubbing his forehead, Bassa leaned away from the table. He glanced around the room, quiet considering the amount of officers present. Everyone seemed too tired to waste precious energy on verbal conversation. Bassa’s shoulders sagged at the thought of another day of battle. He was growing too old to maintain such a pace.

“Are you going to make it?” said Byron.

His gaze returning to his pilot, Bassa nodded. “I’m as able as you.”

“That’s not saying much right now,” the young man mumbled.

Byron stabbed at his food, as if searching for an edible piece. Uttering a growl of disgust, he shoved aside the tray. Crossing his arms, Byron leaned against the table.

“At least they could serve food with flavor,” he said. Byron frowned as he scanned the room. “I didn’t see Hannar tonight. He wasn’t injured, was he?”

“His mate went into labor,” Bassa said, resting his arm on the chair beside him. “He remained in his quarters so he could concentrate on the experience with her.”

Byron’s expression turned to one of disbelief. “He can hear her all the way out here?”

“Yes. Bonded mates can hear one another at all times.”

“Oh,” the young man said, his thoughts still confused. “Didn’t realize bonding was that strong.”

“It’s the most powerful connection between two people. And it’s permanent.”

That fact bothered Byron. “Not sure I’d like that,” he said, scrunching further into his seat.

“You may one day,” said Bassa, amused by his friend’s reluctance.

“You’ve never had a mate.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Byron’s directness caused him to pause as he pondered his response. “I got close once, but it didn’t work out,” he admitted.

“Any regrets?”

“I often wonder,” Bassa said, contemplating that thought. “My life would’ve been different.”

“You wouldn’t be out here risking your neck for me?”

Bassa offered a weak smile. “Probably not. But I’ve no regrets being your navigator.”

Byron emitted a short bark of laughter. “I’d like to think I’m a poor replacement for a real mate.”

That triggered a sense of the ridiculous in Bassa. “Well, you do lack in certain areas,” he observed, one eyebrow c****d.

“Can’t help you there!”

Bassa chuckled. “At least you’re good company.”

His pilot smiled. It occurred to Bassa that Byron’s mental shields remained down, his mind unguarded. Under normal circumstances, the young man remained protective of his privacy. He wasn’t blocking now, though. Bassa considered testing his partner’s open stance, but decided to save that experience for another time.

Byron glanced at the other tables, his posture revealing unease. The pilot turned to his navigator with troubled eyes.

“Is it true Corten lost his senses?” he said in a wary voice.

Bassa emitted a heavy sigh. Corten received a direct hit from a Vindicarn disrupter as well as physical injuries to both he and his navigator. Their wounds would heal, but Corten’s senses had failed to return. Unable to communicate telepathically, he could no longer function as a Cosbolt pilot.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Bassa said.

“What’s he going to do now?”

Bassa shook his head. “I think he’s still in shock. His navigator hasn’t decided if he’ll continue without Corten, either.”

Byron sighed, his gaze dropping to the table’s surface. Discomfort and indecision filled his pilot’s mind as he processed the information. The possibility that either of them could lose their senses bothered Byron on multiple levels. The conflicting emotions flitted through his mind at a rapid pace before the young man settled on anger.

“Need to blast every damn one of the Vindicarn out of existence,” Byron said.

Bassa pushed his chair back and stretched his legs. “Tomorrow! Right now, let’s go get some sleep.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” said Byron, pulling himself to his feet.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep did not come easy to Bassa that night. He’d faced many enemies in his career, but none as frightening as the Vindicarn. Casualties were bad enough without the threat of losing one’s senses forever. He’d survived hundreds of battles in his long career, but his pilot was still just a boy. Bassa worried Byron would not enjoy a similar tenure in the fleet. Despite his guidance, his greatest fear resided in the thought that the young man still wouldn’t escape tragedy. Bassa was now more determined than ever to ensure that Byron survived.