CassaStorm

by Alex J. Cavanaugh

  “Sir?” he said, his voice cracking.

  “Did you have any questions?”

  “No, sir,” he said, responding out of habit. Bassan caught himself, feeling foolish for his inane reply. “I mean, yes sir. Did the computer tell the people what to do when they awoke?”

  The science officer rested a hand atop the console. “We believe it gave them instructions. We surmised that the alien race wanted the people to begin their new life and with as little recollection of this ship as possible. They most likely awoke with a strong urge to gather supplies and exit the vessel. Considering their confused state, it’s no surprise Tgren’s ancestors forgot this ship once they set foot on the surface.”

  “Except in their dreams,” Bassan mused, his gaze traveling to the view out the window.

  “Father, you said the Tgren’s language was programmed into their minds as well?” said Drent.

  “The first Tgrens were given a complex, working language, unique to their race.”

  Bassan looked up at the science officer. “But similar to our own?” he said.

  “The dialects are different, but the Cassan language is the most similar of the known races.”

  “So are we the same race?”

  Officer Mevine stepped away from the console, his chin dropping to his chest. “There are minor differences. We share a similar physical structure—”

  “An alien race could’ve seeded the Cassan world as well?”

  “No ancient alien ship has been discovered on Cassa—”

  “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t from the same race, does it?”

  Officer Mevine’s brows came together and Bassan sucked in his breath. He’d interrupted the senior officer. Not once, but twice. He knew better. Father would be so angry.

  The science officer’s left hand came down on Bassan’s shoulder. He trembled and prepared for a reprimand. Officer Mevine placed his right hand on Drent’s neck and pulled the boys closer. Leaning down, the science officer placed his face within inches of Bassan’s face.

  “You boys are proof that Cassans and Tgrens possess a similar heritage,” Officer Mevine said, his voice as soft as his expression. “Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to establish that fact in the records once and for all. But our genetic codes aren’t identical. And until a similar alien ship is discovered on Cassa, a common ancestry will never be accepted by the general population of either race.”

  Pulling his thin lips into a smile, the science officer thumped their backs. “But who knows? Perhaps you are the beginning of a new race? Your abilities just might surpass that of either Tgrens or Cassans.”

  Those words shot straight into Bassan’s heart. He and Drent weren’t freaks, but a new race? His imagination ran wild with the possibilities.

  And what if Cassans and Tgrens weren’t the only races to merge? he thought, excited by the idea of other half-breeds. What if there are more of us? A lot more?

  “Officer Mevine?”

  Releasing Bassan and Drent, the science officer straightened his frame. “Yes?”

  Bassan stepped aside as an officer moved to Mevine’s side, computer tablet in hand. His attention shifted and he stole another glance at the glowing pods. Edging closer to the glass, he stared at the capsules. The Tgrens were a seeded race, but what if they weren’t alone? What if they did discover a similar alien ship on Cassa?

  “Boys, this requires my attention,” said Officer Mevine, cutting into Bassan’s thoughts. “Wait for me by the tunnel.”

  Drent grabbed Bassan’s arm. Choking on a protest, Bassan let his friend drag him away from the window overlooking the pods.

  At least you got to come up here!

  Bassan stared at his friend, annoyed with himself. His thoughts were far too transparent. I know. I just wanted to look at the pods a little longer.

  Why? Drent crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose.

  I just do! I want to know what went through those people’s minds.

  You want to climb into a capsule and find out?

  Yes, I would.

  Noting Drent’s condescending expression, Bassan turned away. He hated it when others mocked his ideas. What was wrong with wanting to experience the pods firsthand? Maybe he’d find a connection with the people who were his ancestors.

  He now faced the three open doorways. Bassan peered into the closest room. It contained a computer console similar to those lining the far wall. Something was unusual, though. The frame appeared larger and displayed a static screen. Curious as to why this console boasted no activity, Bassan stepped through the open doorway.

  What are you doing? Drent thought, seizing his elbow.

  I just want a closer look, thought Bassan, shaking off his friend’s strong grip. The panel’s faint lights beckoned him closer.

  When I said use every advantage we can get, I didn’t mean like this!

  I’m just looking.

  My father only allowed me in this room with supervision.

  Bassan hesitated. You’ve been up here before?

  Drent dropped his hands to his side. Well, of course I have. My father brought me here shortly after they discovered the control room.

  Frustration rose in Bassan’s chest. He never accompanied his father on assignments. Sheltered by his parents, Bassan never got to experience anything. Feeling defiant, he decided that would change right now.

  Hovering near the console, he examined the large screen. Set in a grid pattern, its green lines glowed much softer than the other screens. A set of eleven symbols pulsated at the top, the orange glow a sharp contrast to the green. Bassan stood on his toes to get a closer view.

  What does it say? he thought, resting his fingers on the lower edge of the console. The casing felt cool to the touch.

  My father said they haven’t deciphered it yet, Drent thought, moving to his side.

  Disappointed by the answer, Bassan’s gaze dropped to a metallic ball protruding from the console’s casing. Residing just inches from his fingers, the shine of the orb enticed him closer. Sliding his hand along the console’s edge, Bassan poised his index finger to touch the surface. A hand on his shoulder startled him and Bassan froze.

  Come on! My father will be angry if he catches us in here, thought Drent.

  With reluctance, Bassan stepped away from the console but didn’t relinquish his hold. Drent’s hand lifted from his shoulder and Bassan caught his breath. His fingers were beside the ball. He was so close. This might be his only opportunity to experience something new. Ignoring the voice of reason that screamed in his head, Bassan grasped the metallic orb.

  A jolt of energy shot through his fingertips. It travelled up his arm to his brain. Images flashed through his mind at a rapid pace, blinding in their intensity. The console in front of him was lost as the vivid array raced through his head. Frightened and confused, Bassan opened his mouth to cry out for help. Before he could utter a sound, the kaleidoscope ended. He gasped at the sudden void.

  What did you do? Drent demanded, his thought pounding at Bassan’s temples.

  Releasing the ball, Bassan dropped his hand. He stared at the console in confusion. Its screen had not altered and the green grid gave no indication of what had just occurred.

  “What are you boys doing in here?”

  Spinning on his heels, Bassan discovered Officer Mevine in the doorway. He shielded his mind, fearful Drent’s father would hear his thoughts.

  “Sorry, Father,” said Drent. “We were just looking at the screen.”

  The science officer stared hard at the boys, his lips pressed together. “This console has not been accessed yet and is off limits. Come on, I have one more computer to show you before your instructor returns.”

  The boys followed Officer Mevine from the room. Bassan glanced back at the console, relieved the screen revealed no sign of tampering. He couldn’t recall any of the images that had raced through his mind. Had he dreamed the whole experience?

  Preoccupied with his thoughts, Bassan onl
y half listened as Officer Mevine explained the growth programming of the pods’ occupants. Bassan’s fingers still tingled. He kept his hand behind his back and hoped no one noticed the compulsive wiggling. He shouldn’t have touched that ball.

  Relief flooded his mind when Officer Mevine escorted the boys from the room. As they descended through the tunnel to the main level, he recalled his father’s warning.

  The one time he didn’t tell me not to touch something, I touched something, he thought, his shoulders drooping farther with every step. Damn, I am in so much trouble!

  “Enemy targets in sector 120-320,” Byron announced over the com. “Defense positions only. No one is to engage unless I give the order.”

  Athee adjusted her screen, calculating the exact position of the battle. The enemy occupied the space beyond Tgren’s moon, hiding in its shadow. Two Cassan flagships also occupied that space. She relayed the information to her pilot.

  Sounds like the Nacinta’s fighters have it under control, he thought. We’ll set up a perimeter around Tgren.

  Her mate’s calm mental state settled her nerves. Drawing from his confidence, Athee ran through her prelaunch checklist. Satisfied all systems operated at top efficiency, she confirmed the readiness of their Cosbolt. The hangar chief gave the signal and Athee piloted the ship across the hangar. The fighter entered the launch tube and awaited launch sequence.

  Pressing her head against the back of her seat, Athee reached out to Bassan. We’ll be back shortly, she thought, adding a loving caress to her mental connection.

  He doesn’t need to know what’s happening, Byron thought, punctuating his response with a trace of irritation.

  He heard the alarm. Bassan worries when we fly into battle, Athee thought, flexing her fingers around the throttle. He’s only ten, but our son knows we could both die.

  Not today!

  The countdown commenced over the com. Athee closed her eyes. Clenching her teeth, she prepared for the jolt of acceleration.

  The enemy is finally at our doorstep, she thought, her stomach sinking.

  The countdown ended. On cue, the Cosbolt’s engines roared louder than a desert storm. Athee’s body pressed even harder into the seat as the fighter raced forward. Sight wasn’t a requirement. The image of the launch tube walls racing past at a blinding speed lay ingrained in her memory. She counted instead, ticking off the three brief seconds until the Cosbolt emerged from the launch tube.

  One, two, three!

  She opened her eyes. The warm glow of Tgren’s sun greeted Athee. Her shoulders sagged and she released the throttle. They’d made it.

  We haven’t had a launch tube mishap in almost eighteen years, Byron thought. Despite the amount of times he’d reminded her, Athee’s mate didn’t sound annoyed.

  I know, Athee thought, convincing herself as much as her pilot. A freak accident, it always resided in the back of Athee’s mind during launches. That wasn’t how she wanted to die. After all these years, she still preferred an open runway to a launch tube.

  Shoving the memory from her mind, she checked the controls and relayed the position of the other fighters to Byron. They circled once, waiting for all six squadrons to join them. Athee perceived his growing impatience and kept her thoughts neutral. Byron needed to focus on the situation at hand. This was more serious than any rogue pirate attack. She couldn’t even recall the last time they’d led all six squadrons into battle.

  The final Cosbolts took their positions and Byron passed assignments to the squadron leaders. Athee listened, calculating their placement. Her mate wanted as much of Tgren’s surface covered from space as possible.

  We’ll maintain a stationary position, he thought, his words directed at his navigator.

  Athee had already computed the squadrons’ flight patterns and selected a strategic location for their ship. The moment the coordinates formed in her mind, Byron signified he was ready to jump.

  Locking with his mind, they touched the teleporter. Only the pilot’s abilities were required to jump the ship, but their connection as mates meant Athee was always involved. She tapped into the depths of her mind, the energy coiling like a desert snake ready to strike. There was a surge of potency as the unit absorbed the power of two minds.

  Jump!

  Her thoughts locked on the coordinates, Athee brought the ship to the precise location over Tgren. Tapping her fingers, she expanded her view to include the battle beyond Tgren’s moon. Two Cassan flagships were in position, including the Nacinta. Two other large vessels were present, their ominous shapes dominating her screen. Ignoring the mammoth ships, she zoomed closer. The smaller fighters were of greater interest to Athee.

  Vindicarn and Narcon, Byron thought, no trace of emotion in his tone.

  Athee scanned the multitude of fighters engaged in combat, noting the position of those on the fringes of the action. Tapped into her thoughts, Byron saw what she saw. She heard him send orders to his squadron leaders, informing them of the scope of the fight. His greatest concern lay with stray ships jumping to escape the heat of battle. Hiding behind Tgren’s moon would place enemy ships too close to the planet.

  Watch for the disrupters. They aren’t as powerful as those used forty years ago, but they still make the Vindicarn dangerous. Look sharp and attack from below. I am not losing anyone to a disrupter blast today.

  Byron’s words sent a chill down Athee’s spine. She glanced up from her screen and scanned the open space outside the ship’s canopy. Athee swallowed, her tongue dry in her mouth.

  Sometimes I wish I didn’t hear his every thought. As long as it took me to convince him not to shield me from his mind though, I’m not about to make him change, she thought. Her attention returned to the screen.

  Keep an eye on the battle, Byron thought. Watch for ships that jump but don’t reappear. Vindicarn teleporters are designed for long range jumps, which means they could jump right in front of us. Or worse, on the other side of Tgren.

  Check!

  Athee stared at the screen with renewed intensity. Ships jumped in and out with regularity, and she didn’t bother to follow the signals of those fighters. Only Cassan ships possessed the ability to perform short range jumps. Neither the Vindicarn nor Narcons had mastered the technology required to perform short, rapid teleportation jumps. Reserving their power for long range jumps involving multiple ships, the Vindicarn were a formidable enemy in space. She’d heard enough stories from Byron of entire squadrons appearing out of nowhere to appreciate his concerns today.

  Byron continued to coordinate with his squadron leaders. Athee drew strength from his calm state of mind. Her mate possessed many years of experience and understood their enemy better than any other pilot. As she watched the fighters on her screen, Athee wondered if any of the other teams were veterans of the Vindicarn War. She doubted many outside of Byron had experienced the event, now forty years past.

  Six ships on the edge of the foray vanished. Athee’s muscles tightened and she shot a warning to her pilot. Before she’d completed her thought, Byron began relaying the information to his squadron leaders. She held her breath, resisting the urge to look out the canopy.

  There!

  Athee caught the images in Byron’s mind. Six narrow fighters now crossed far below them. The closest squadron descended to intercept. The enemy changed direction as the Vindicarn reacted to the unexpected appearance of Cosbolts.

  Continue scanning the battle, Byron thought.

  As ordered, Athee concentrated on her screen. She couldn’t follow two battles, despite the vivid images in his head invading her mind.

  Another group vanished from view. Seven more! she thought.

  They know we’re here. Relay that information to the Nacinta.

  Athee complied, using the com to inform the Nacinta of the developing situation over Tgren. The response was not unexpected.

  “Maintain your current position. We’ll send reinforcements if more enemy vessels appear.”

  We can hold our
own for now, Byron thought.

  A flash of light in the distance caught Athee’s attention. Two squadrons were engaging the enemy, and judging from the color of the explosion, a Vindicarn ship had just met its demise. Sensing no concern from Byron, her gaze returned to her computer screen.

  No further ships vanished from view. Her mate’s impatience grew, though. Byron never enjoyed playing the spectator and Athee didn’t blame him. Commander or not, he was still a fighter pilot at heart.

  Avoid those disrupters! he thought, his warning loud in Athee’s head.

  News that one of their fighters was out of commission due to wing damage blasted from the com unit. Athee barely had time to process the information as an announcement of a disrupter blast taking out a navigator followed on its heels. Byron’s fury sent pinpricks across her scalp.

  We’re engaging, he thought, powering the ship forward.

  Adjusting her screen with haste, Athee assessed the situation. She had just enough time to relay the information to her pilot before they were on the tail of an enemy ship. Athee announced their intentions to the nearest Cosbolt teams.

  Scanning the area, Athee concentrated on her duties, allowing Byron to do what he did best. Warning him of a Cassan fighter below them, she felt their ship adjust position. Banking to the left, their Cosbolt dove. Athee kept her eyes on the target, her mind locked with her mate’s so he would see what she saw. They came up under the Vindicarn ship at full speed. Byron fired once and the spider-like vessel exploded.

  Attack from below, Byron thought, his command broadcasting to every pilot.

  Their ship shot over the debris, the residue spreading into a fine dust. Athee did not bother to look out at the remains of the enemy vessel.

  Next target.

  Noting an enemy ship in pursuit of a Cosbolt to their left, Athee selected that skirmish as the most pressing. Before she could relay the plan to her pilot, Byron altered course. They could not catch the pair at their present speed though. She suggested jumping below and matching their speed.

  Below and head on, he thought. Double jump.

  Relaying their intentions even as she visualized the coordinates, Athee clutched the throttle. Recalling only Byron controlled the craft, she eased her hold.