CassaSeries

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

In the morning, Byron was pleased to discover food waiting when he emerged from the shower. Hunger overruled all other considerations and the men consumed their meal in silence.

Byron suspected his navigator still felt awkward regarding last night’s rude awakening. Bassa’s moment of panic had unnerved him. The loss of his senses frightened his friend in the medical facility as well. This turn of events troubled Byron. The man never displayed fear, not even in the most dire of situations in the cockpit. The most stable and assured person in his life was coming undone and this worried him.

Finishing his food, Byron leaned away from the table. They needed to test Bassa’s senses soon. He waited until his friend set down his fork before broaching the subject.

“Feeling anything yet?” he said, shifting in his chair.

Bassa’s gaze dropped to the table’s surface and his brows came together. His frown deepened and he shook his head in disgust.

“Nothing,” he growled, leaning his elbows on the table. Bassa rubbed his forehead and sighed.

“Try again,” Byron prompted, pushing aside his tray.

Setting his jaw, Bassa closed his eyes to concentrate. Byron watched with a hopeful heart, willing his friend’s powers to return. Bassa took a deep breath, his fists tightening. He lifted his head and slammed one fist on the table.

“Nothing!” he said. “Just damned empty silence.”

Alarmed by the desperation in his friend’s voice, Byron cringed as he realized the next step required. Reviving stunned senses required an open mind. He couldn’t shield, as it prevented connection, thus forcing Byron to sacrifice the one thing he treasured–his privacy. The process unnerved him, but he had to try for Bassa’s sake. His friend deserved every opportunity.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward. “I guess we need to work on it together, then. Focus on my voice,” Byron said, his authoritative tone catching Bassa’s attention. “Listen for my voice in your head.”

Bassa appeared skeptical, but he dropped his chin and closed his eyes. Byron focused on his navigator, determined to reach his friend.

Hear my voice, he thought. Follow the sound. Follow my thoughts.

He repeated his entreaty, his eyes on Bassa. His navigator gave no indication that Byron’s voice registered. Frustrated by the lack of response, he closed his eyes and tried again.

Bassa, hear me. I know you can! Follow my voice. Find your own.

Something stirred in Bassa’s mind. Eager to uncover any remaining trace of mental ability, Byron followed the echo.

Try again! Follow my voice.

A tiny sound rippled through his friend’s mind but not enough to establish a connection. Abandoning all caution, Byron flooded Bassa’s mind with his presence.

You have to hear me because I’m not flying with anyone else! he thought, his eyes squeezed tight.

Something stirred within Bassa’s mind and Byron grasped at that thread. His friend couldn’t abandon him now…

I… hear… you…

The voice was faint, but his friend had indeed spoken. Byron’s eyes flew open as he uttered a triumphant cry. Bassa met his gaze, his expression incredulous. Byron grinned as relief flooded his entire body.

“You did it!” he said, slapping the table.

Bassa grasped his arm and Byron returned the gesture as he continued to grin with excitement. His friend appeared elated, his eyes revealing a gratitude he could not voice. Sensing the intensity of the moment, Byron decided to press forward.

“Let’s get the rest of your senses working,” he said.

Bassa lowered his head and closed his eyes. Apprehensive but a little more confident, Byron did the same. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mind and reached out to his friend. He sought to connect with every aspect of Bassa’s mental abilities. He’d never entered another man’s mind before, although he endured evasive probing as a child. Bassa’s thoughts remained faint, but his senses seemed intact. Byron focused on that area of the brain, encouraging his friend to reconnect. As if sleeping, Bassa’s mind began to awaken and return to life.

As the man’s senses grew in strength, Byron became aware of a thousand different thoughts. A kaleidoscope of images swirled in his mind. Scenes drifted in and out of focus like a dream. He saw Bassa’s parents and brother, now just distant memories. Moments from his friend’s first tenure as a navigator, as well as his years as an instructor, flitted past his mind’s eye. The images were strong and fresh, and the sights he viewed intrigued Byron.

The accompanying emotions carried the most impact, though. A hint of regret colored Bassa’s thoughts regarding his lack of mate or family, although it did not run as deep as his feelings regarding Tal. He continued to harbor guilt and blamed himself for ignoring his obligations as an older sibling. That perceived failure weighed heavy on his heart. Byron realized Bassa’s remorse stemmed from those feelings rather than a genuine love for Tal.

The brothers were never close. The realization of this fact caught Byron by surprise. Bassa never loved Tal, and only thoughts of the man’s parents carried any sense of genuine affection. Despite the vast number of partners and friends over the years, Bassa never connected with any of them.

For a moment, confusion and betrayal gripped Byron. He didn’t matter to Bassa at all…

You’re wrong.

Bassa’s voice grew stronger. The deep echoes released a new flood of thoughts. What he could no longer recall from his parents, and never experienced from his sister, Byron now felt from Bassa. The acceptance and understanding that eluded him for years filled his mind. Bassa believed in his young pilot and remained dedicated to continue his navigator for the duration. The life of a troubled young man held more importance than his own.

Stunned and humbled by his friend’s feelings, Byron dropped all inhibitions regarding their connection. He wished he knew how to reciprocate the sentiment and convey the depth of Bassa’s impact on his life. And at that moment, with his mind open, he realized Bassa already knew.

Bassa’s grip on his arm tightened and the sound of movement reached his ears. Byron hesitated, afraid to open his eyes. Reaching deep for the courage, he lifted his head and met Bassa’s gaze. Bassa squeezed Byron’s arm and released his grasp, stretching his back as he leaned away. Byron moved his arm, stiff from resting in one position for so long. Leaning back in his seat, he grinned at his friend.

Keep talking to me, he prodded.

Bassa returned his smile. What do you want me to talk about?

I don’t know. Pretend we’re on Guaard and I just performed a reckless maneuver. You never lacked for words then.

Byron! Bassa thought, leaning forward.

Flashing a mischievous grin, Byron crossed his arms. It’s true! An idea struck him.

Tell me why you were interested in exploration. I’d like to know.

His question surprised Bassa. With a little prodding, his friend began to elaborate on his fascination with space exploration. Pleased to hear the man’s voice in his head, Byron was content to listen to his navigator talk. He now understood Ernx’s eager joy when Nintal regained his senses. After the cold silence, Bassa could occupy his mind all day.

They were interrupted by a call from medical. Bassa needed to return for a full evaluation of his abilities. His senses appeared to be functioning on all levels, but Byron wanted positive confirmation.

All right if I accompany you? he thought.

Of course!

Byron was permitted to observe as his navigator’s mental powers were tested and measured. Now a full day past the disrupter blast, his senses operated at ninety percent. Full restoration would occur within the next day. Placed on injured reserve, it grounded their team until further notice. Byron could live with that status, though.

You wouldn’t want me navigating right now anyway, Bassa thought as they exited the facility.

I’d take you with limited senses over anyone else at full capacity!

Bassa requested the midday meal in his room and Byron joined him. The endless questions from their fellow officers would just have to wait until later. However, they did need to complete their flight report before the evening meal. Byron thought a change of scenery might be good, too.

The biosphere? he suggested, aware of Bassa’s affinity for the peaceful surroundings.

His navigator’s pleasure stirred in his thoughts before the man even spoke. The open connection required adjustment, but if it assisted in Bassa’s recovery, Byron would leave his shields down for now.

Retreating to an isolated section of the hydroponics bay, the men focused on their computer pads for the next hour. Bassa appeared to take his time and paused on numerous occasions to contemplate his report. Byron reviewed his flight information several times, ingraining the final incident in his mind, before completing his account. He claimed full responsibility for Bassa’s injuries.

No. Don’t blame yourself, Bassa thought.

Tilting his head to view his friend, Byron frowned. I should’ve jumped.

You followed my instructions. You are not at fault.

But it resulted in your injury!

That was my miscalculation, not yours.

Their mental connection revealed more, though. Byron straightened his shoulders and stared at his navigator.

“You knew you’d be struck?” he demanded.

Bassa leaned back against the bench. You were exhausted. I was reluctant to suggest yet another jump. That maneuver protected you while increasing the odds I would be hit instead. I made the decision and I’m willing to live with the results.

I know you just want to protect me, but…

As your navigator, it is my duty to keep you from harm, Bassa thought, his authoritative tone silencing Byron’s protest. His expression softened. And as your friend, I refuse to fail in that obligation.

Unable to think of an appropriate response, Byron remained silent. He still believed a jump the a better course of action. Eliminating the danger to both pilot and navigator was preferable to yesterday’s incident.

Bassa smiled. I’ll try to get us both out of danger next time.

You better!

At Bassa’s insistence, he altered his report.

With that task completed, they returned to their quarters. Bassa stated that he was tired and would sleep for a few hours before the evening meal.

You need anything, let me know, Byron told him as they parted company.

Bassa paused at his door and smiled. Now that I can, I will!

The rest appeared beneficial, as Bassa acted like his old self when he joined Byron for the evening meal. The moment they entered the dining hall, the other officers all but attacked them with questions and concerns. Byron suspected his friend was relieved he’d delayed a public appearance. Several officers had contacted Byron that afternoon, inquiring on Bassa’s condition, and he told everyone to wait until this evening. The attention almost overwhelming, Bassa appeared to handle it with ease. More than once he stated that his judgment, not Byron’s flying, led to his injuries. Byron made one attempt to counter that statement, but a private request from Bassa that bordered on an order silenced him.

They escaped the crowd in the dining hall only to be confronted by a junior officer in the corridor.

“Officer Bassa, Officer Byron?” he inquired. “The commander would like to see you in his private office right away.”

Acknowledging the request, the men entered the first available telepod. Byron shot his navigator an apprehensive glance.

Are we in trouble?

Bassa smiled and shook his head. Doubtful.

Arriving at the commander’s office, Bassa passed his hand over the press plate. Told to enter at once, the doors slid aside. As they approached the commander’s desk, Kernen arose with a grin.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” he said, extending a hand to Bassa. “You had me worried.”

“You know I’m tougher than that, sir,” Bassa replied, returning the commander’s handshake.

Kernen patted his shoulder and turned to Byron. “Officer Byron,” he said, flashing the pilot a smile.

“Sir,” Byron answered, unsure what to make of the situation.

The commander gestured toward the empty chairs. “Have a seat, men.”

Byron slid into his chair, hoping his movements didn’t reveal his confusion. Kernen’s appearance yesterday perplexed him as well. However, only serenity emanated from Bassa and he drew comfort from that fact.

“I appreciate that you came to see me yesterday, sir,” Bassa said, stretching his legs. “My apologies I was asleep at the time.”

The commander waved aside his apology. “Sleep is the best medicine after a disrupter hit. I just wanted to confirm your status with my own eyes.”

Now seated at his desk, Kernen turned to his computer screen. “I’ve reviewed your ship’s data and your reports,” he said, “and everything appears to be in order. I see no errors in judgment, so as far as I’m concerned, the incident is closed.”

Kernen leaned back in his chair, the fingers on his right hand still grasping the edge of his desk. “Just glad you’re both still with us! Hate to lose one of my best teams.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bassa said.

“I still should’ve jumped,” blurted Byron. “Sir.”

The commander regarded him with patient understanding. “I respect Bassa’s decision not to place his pilot at risk with another jump. According to the ship’s data, you were already draining the teleporter. Even you have your limits.”

Byron nodded in acceptance although still not satisfied with that assessment. The commander smiled and leaned forward.

“Do not overestimate your abilities, Byron. Even with your unique talent, multiple jumps are taxing. Trust your navigator’s judgment. After all, he is one of the best in the fleet,” he added with a sly wink at Bassa.

“Yes, sir, I am aware of that fact,” Byron said, flashing his friend a grin.

The commander nodded and rose to his feet. “You will be on simulators tomorrow,” he announced as Bassa and Byron arose from their chairs.

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

“Dismissed.”

Byron turned away, but Bassa paused for a moment. Glancing at his navigator, he caught Bassa’s wry smile and nod at Kernen before turning to join Byron. They exited the commander’s office and he wondered at the private words exchanged between the men. Byron decided not to ask Bassa, but he wondered if there was indeed a past relationship.

We used to fly together, Bassa thought once they were in the hallway.

You’re friends?

Yes.

They entered the telepod and Byron turned to his navigator. Must’ve helped when acquiring this assignment.

Our skills landed this post, Bassa thought before winking at his pilot. But yes, it helped!

Bank left!

Following Bassa’s command, Byron veered to the left. The enemy ship mirrored their maneuver, although not to the same degree. Byron conveyed his next move to his navigator. Instant confirmation came as the reply.

Reversing the thrusters, Byron spun the ship around to face their attacker. He fired at once, hoping to get in a shot before the Vindicarn responded. A laser passed under their wing, but his second shot found its mark.

That was close! he thought, scanning the area for another target.

They’re getting crafty, Bassa thought. Dive!

Forcing the throttle forward, Byron caught sight of an enemy vessel passing below. It moved with great speed, but the new angle of their Cosbolt provided a clear line of fire. Holding his position as well as his breath, Byron waited for the precise moment. He sent a single shot and the Vindicarn fighter exploded.

Need an easy one like that now and then, he thought, weary after two weeks of constant fighting.

Incoming!

Byron swung the ship around to face the vessel. He was forced to jump when the enemy fighter fired before he could respond. Reappearing behind the craft, he accelerated and took aim. The shot missed its target as the Vindicarn veered to the right and returned fire with a disrupter blast. Byron managed to avoid a direct hit and the ship rolled on its side. Recovering from the abrupt maneuver, he pushed the Cosbolt to full speed. The enemy veered again, but this time he kept pace and fired two shots before the ship changed direction again.

Gotcha! he thought as the vessel erupted in a ball of flame and debris.

Muscles tense and stretched tight during the exchange, Byron allowed his body to slump in his seat. His suit felt hot and itchy and he longed to remove his helmet.

No time to relax! Bassa thought. Wentar’s headed our direction and he’s in trouble.

Receiving the image from his navigator, Byron focused on the incoming Cosbolt. Wentar attempted to shake his pursuer, flying erratically as he dodged laser blasts. Grasping the throttle even tighter, he requested a strategy.

Head on.

A grin crept across Byron’s face. His favorite trick. Bassa knew he could execute the maneuver to perfection. Feeling his energy renewed, he turned to face Wentar’s craft as Bassa relayed their intentions.

What?! thought Wentar’s navigator.

Byron heard Bassa repeat his instructions in an authoritative tone and he proceeded with caution. Wentar’s erratic flying meant lasers from the enemy ship flew in every directions. Wentar appeared more focused on avoiding enemy fire. Byron needed to act fast.

Throttling ahead at full speed, he bore down on the Cosbolt. A flash of panic erupted from Wentar and his ship dove to avoid collision. Byron fired one shot and jumped to safety as the enemy ship exploded.

They emerged some distance away and far from the immediate battle. Wentar’s angry voice rang in Byron’s mind.

Are you insane? he thought, seething with indignation.

You don’t have a Vindicarn on your ass now, do you? Byron thought, annoyed by Wentar’s tone.

He’ll appreciate it later, Bassa thought privately.

The enemy broke off their attack but not before Byron destroyed two more fighters. As he landed their ship, he realized he shook from exhaustion. Bassa forgave his rough landing.

We just need some rest, he thought.

The ship taxied into the hangar and Byron at last removed his helmet. His hair lay plastered to his scalp and he slicked the damp locks away from his forehead. Once he reached the comfort of his quarters and enjoyed a long shower, Byron doubted he’d possess energy for anything else today.

He descended the ladder and all but slid to the bottom. The moment his feet touched the ground, he heard Wentar’s angry voice.

“You i***t! What were you thinking?” the pilot demanded. “You could’ve killed us both!”

Byron turned to face the enraged Wentar. “I had the situation under control!”

“That was your error, Wentar. You turned too soon!” Bassa charged as he joined them on the hangar floor.

“That was still a stupid stunt,” said Wentar, planting his body in Byron’s path.

“I instructed him to execute that maneuver and he did so with precision.”

Wentar’s head snapped in Bassa’s direction. “You told him to do it?”

Bassa moved to his pilot’s side. “Yes I did. He’s performed that maneuver many times. The only risk came from your piloting error.”

Wentar’s navigator joined them at this point, and he stared in bewilderment at the antagonists. No longer focused on Byron, Wentar turned his attention to Bassa. The man’s eyes were filled with anger and Byron wondered if he intended to take a swing at Bassa.

“Maybe we should be questioning your judgment,” Wentar spat, his shoulders squared.

“You’d dare question the best navigator in the fleet?” said Byron, clenching his fists at his sides.

Wentar shot him a hateful look. “Obviously his judgment has been impaired by a young, reckless pilot!”

Byron reacted without thinking. Lunging forward, he plowed into Wentar’s midsection. The man’s hands grasped at his back and Byron managed to push the older officer back several feet before a second set of hands grabbed his hips. Despite his firm hold on Wentar, he lost his grip. The man’s fists beat his back as he was pulled out of range.

“No!” Bassa’s voice sounded in his ears.

Wentar’s navigator and two other officers restrained the man. He struggled for a moment, as did Byron. Bassa had wrapped his arms around his chest, making it impossible to move, and Ernx’s hands grasped his shoulder. With a gasp, Byron ceased his movement.

“Let go of me!” Wentar demanded, shoving those restraining him and taking two steps back.

Several other officers gathered, alerted by the sounds of a scuffle. Wentar scanned the faces of those around him with disgust. Sneering at Byron and Bassa, he shook off his navigator’s hand and turned on his heels. His partner flashed them an irritated glance before following his pilot from the scene.

Bassa removed his arms from around Byron’s chest and his hands grasped his shoulders. Settle down.

Ernx stepped back, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

“He didn’t like the way we saved his life,” Byron cried, his eyes on the retreating Wentar. “Maybe we’ll just let them blow your ass out of the sky next time!”

Byron! scolded Bassa. “He’s tired and not thinking straight.”

His shoulders sagging, Ernx nodded in agreement. “I think we’re all pretty strung out.”

Now that the excitement was over, the men dispersed. Weary from a long day, Bassa and Byron moved toward the exit at a slow pace. Byron continued to seethe over Wentar’s accusations.

Forget about it, Bassa thought.

He has no right to question your decisions! We just saved his ass.

We’re all tired right now, Bassa thought. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

Tell him I’ll shoot him down next time and save the Vindicarns the trouble!

Byron!

Bassa grabbed his shoulder and spun the young man around to face him. Byron frowned at his navigator’s behavior, but he did not pull free. Bassa’s expression softened.

“I’m not always right you know,” he admitted.

Byron stared at his friend, stunned by the self-deprecating disclosure. If there was one person he never questioned, it was Bassa.

“Of course you are,” he said, allowing his navigator to sense his steadfast conviction.

Bassa smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I appreciate your confidence.”

Byron straightened his back and lifted his chin. I trust you with my life.

And I trust you with mine.

They regarded each other for a moment. Byron made no effort to suppress the admiration he held for Bassa, and similar feelings stirred in his friend. The meaningful exchange drained his last traces of energy.

Bassa patted his shoulder. “Now, get to your quarters before you drop!”