His words caused Athee to close her mind so tight it was as if she’d vanished. Only when consumed with anger did she employ her shields in that manner. Despite his annoyance with the situation, Byron didn’t like being locked out of her mind. The silence was a painful void in his head.
“Athee,” he said, his tone less harsh. “That is why it’s imperative you stay here and work on those prefects who might be able to sway the others. I won’t send a message to High Command until this evening. Give me something to work with, anything to indicate they might change their minds soon. Can you do that?”
Her shoulders relaxed and she offered a curt nod. “Yes, sir.” Her reply was cold, but her mental shields lowered.
Athee, I need your help if we are to save relations between our races and ultimately save Tgren, he thought, hoping to pacify his mate.
I’ll do what I can.
Turning on her heels, she marched back in the direction of the counsel room. Confident his liaison officer would not leave until she extracted a positive response from several prefects, Byron pressed his hand on the outer door and flung it open.
I hope she returns with good news, thought Hurend as they descended the stone steps.
So do I, Byron thought. He glanced back at the state building.
Athee, bring me something that will pacify High Command, he thought, frustration adding weight to his frame. Anything so I can buy us more time to reason with these fools!
Jump!
The mountainside vanished, replaced with a view over the valley. Byron banked to the right in a tight arc, letting Athee guide him to his next target. He caught sight of Ktren, smoke curling from several locations. Shoving the image out of his mind, Byron focused on the Narconian fighter below them.
She visualized another enemy vessel crossing under the first and Byron decided to pursue both. Diving hard, he angled a little to the left. Firing once, he sheered the wing and sent the Narconian ship into a spin. With the fighter eliminated, he aimed at the target rising to meet him. He fired twice, rotating the Cosbolt in the process. A laser blast streaked by the canopy but missed its mark. Byron’s shots didn’t miss, though.
Continue diving, Athee thought, sending him the image of an enemy ship on the tail of a Cosbolt.
Byron pushed the fighter even harder, swinging to the right to avoid colliding with another Cassan ship. A flash of blue below him provided visual contact. Gripping the throttle tighter, afraid the sweat pooling in his gloves would seep out through the pores, Byron pulled closer to the dart shaped fighter.
Hurry, thought his navigator, visualizing two enemies descending upon them.
Jumping would be the only option. Byron held steady as laser fire streaked past the Cosbolt’s nose. Just two more seconds…
Firing at the Narconian, Byron had only a second to confirm a direct hit before Athee jumped the ship to safety.
They reappeared over the river snaking through Ktren’s valley. Byron questioned his navigator’s choice of location.
Assessing damage, she thought, her mind divided. Minor score across the main surface. We are fit to pursue those.
Byron caught the image of three Narconian ships about to cross the river up ahead. He stayed the course, clinging to the path of the flowing water. Just as the ships came into view, he yanked hard on the throttle. Firing multiple shots, Byron soared over the enemy vessels.
Two eliminated. No wait! Athee thought. The third just crashed. Excellent shot.
Excellent navigating, Byron thought, pulling higher to assess the battle.
His six squadrons continued to fend off the Narcons. Byron received battle reports from three other Tgren cities, but his first priority was the fight over his own territory. Several Cosbolts were already down. His sector dealt primarily with a Narcon attack force. However, two of the Tgren cities were under siege from the Vindicarn. Byron could only imagine the causalities from the disrupter blasts.
We outnumber the Narcon now, thought Athee, a hint of hope in her mental voice.
Let’s make sure they know that!
Arcing skyward, Byron set his sights on an enemy fighter. His navigator guided him as they leveled off behind the narrow craft. Firing once, Byron pulled up as the ship exploded, raining debris on the desert floor below.
“Enemy in full retreat!”
The voice on the com was Hurend’s. I want confirmation! Squadrons Three and Four are to pursue, Byron thought.
“Yes, sir!”
Athee…
All enemy ships are gaining altitude, she thought.
Byron punched the buttons on his screen, determined to confirm the retreat with his own eyes. Less than a hundred Narconian ships rose from the planet’s surface. Two squadrons of Cosbolts pursued, firing at the enemy with reckless abandon. Turning his attention to the view outside the cockpit, Byron angled the Cosbolt to return to the base. So much damage to assess…
Enemy just jumped, thought Athee.
About damn time.
He let Hurend retrieve the squadrons in pursuit. Byron needed to return to the surface. The Nacinta would want an update, as would High Command. Even more pressing was the tally of ships and lives lost today. Judging from the fires across Ktren, that total would depress him.
Bassan is all right.
Byron blinked, caught in the wave of relief from his mate. Now that the battle lay behind them, he could allow himself to feel again. Bassan’s safety lightened the load on his heart. Byron banked to the right and prepared to land, thankful he’d lost none of his family today.
Their Cosbolt taxied into the hangar, the first to return. Before it came to a stop, urgent voices began to assault his mind. Weary from battle, Byron suspected his endurance would be tested today.
Officer Mard, what is the damage to the base? he thought, responding first to the senior officer of base security.
Minimal, sir. Most of the damage is from downed fighters.
No direct strikes?
No, sir. It appears Ktren did not fare so well though. Numerous strikes across the city have been reported.
I want the damage to the Tgren city assessed, as well as any damage to the base, Byron thought. Prepare medical for incoming wounded and send a team to Ktren.
Yes, sir!
Powering down the Cosbolt, Byron opened the canopy. He took a deep breath before hauling himself out of the cockpit. The hangar crew pushed a platform into position and he swung his legs over the side of the ship.
I need you in Ktren, he thought to Athee, reaching out to steady his mate as her feet hit the steel platform. She nodded, wobbling a moment before gaining her balance.
Byron slid down the ladder and assisted Athee to the hangar floor. He could hear the echo in her mind of Tgren voices even as several officers requested his attention. With so much to focus on, he tuned out her thoughts. He reached out to Officer Hurend to confirm the return of Cosbolts to the base and a damage report.
A sudden cry from Athee stopped him in his tracks. He turned, struck by the anguish in her mind. Athee’s head was down, a hand across her forehead.
Athee? he thought.
My uncle!
He didn’t require an explanation. Images of a leveled section of Ktren flashed in his mind. Emanating from Istaner, Athee’s cousin, they revealed a frantic search for the former prefect of Ktren. Byron’s stomach twisted as if it were collapsing. Orellen meant so much to both of them.
Returning to her side, he wrapped his arms around Athee. Ignoring the persistent voices in his head, Byron focused all of his mental energy on comforting his mate. They were pressed for time, but this might be the last moment they shared until tonight.
They will find him. Alive, he thought. Easing his hold, Byron placed a hand alongside her face and tilted Athee’s head. Damp eyes met his, although no tears had fallen yet.
We still have a job to do. Can you manage?
Athee nodded, and her neck twitched from a nervous swallow. Sensing resolve in her mind, Byron release
d her. She straightened her shoulders and stood to her full height.
Let’s get to it then, Byron thought. And keep me posted. On all accounts.
He waited until they were clear of the hangar and Athee on her way before responding to calls for his attention. Prefect Enteller’s rose above the others, frantic in its pitch.
Commander Byron, we need assistance!
Prefect, I have just returned to the surface, he thought. Medical and relief teams are on their way. In the meantime, I want you to contact the other prefects and arrange a meeting.
A meeting? Commander, our cities are in shambles from the attack! We don’t have time…
Prefect Enteller, arrange either a physical gathering on this base or a mental meeting by the evening meal, I don’t care which, thought Byron, his strides growing longer. He was through treading with care around the prefect. I have bought you all the time I can with High Command. Today was a direct attack against Tgren. If it has not convinced you of the necessity to declare your allegiance, then there’s little else I can do to help you.
There was a moment’s pause. Commander, I will arrange a meeting of some sort.
Enteller sounded less than pleased, but Byron didn’t care. His rapid pace carried him around a corner and into the command center. Judging from the flurry of activity, he’d walked into total chaos. An officer noticed his appearance and at once approached Byron.
Let me know when to expect you, he thought, ending his conversation with the prefect. Byron’s morning in the cockpit was only the beginning of a long day of battles.
Chapter Four
Noting an incoming message, Byron leaned forward and mashed the keypad. The inscription indicated it was a recording from High Command. The wrinkled face of the senior Chancellor of High Commander appeared on his screen.
“Commander Byron, we received your transmission confirming the Tgren’s declaration of allegiance with Cassa and our allies in this war. High Command accepts. Continue defending the planet and begin training the best Tgren pilots. All resources are to focus on those two objectives until further notice.”
The screen went black. Slumping in his chair, Byron closed his eyes. He’d hoped for that answer when he sent the transmission two hours ago. The meeting with the prefects had not taken long. Not with four Tgren cities recovering from enemy attack. Three of the men had tried to protest, almost causing Byron to abandon his resolve of restraint. Prefect Ubarce had taken over at that moment, calling the men cowards with no honor and inviting them to come view his decimated city. If the sight of Ktren’s destruction weren’t enough, the images Ubarce shared convinced them. A declaration of war against the Narcon and Vindicarn, and any race that sided with them, became a unanimous decision. Byron held a new respect for the young prefect.
I will try to visit your city tomorrow, he thought, running through his list of accumulating duties. Ubarce’s city housed the recovery facility for mentally damaged Cassans, and those numbers had tripled today, further taxing resources. At least he’d sent a medical team to help this afternoon.
His screen blinked again. This time it was the commander of the Nacinta.
“Commander Byron,” said Ganter, his eyes reflecting Byron’s own exhaustion. “We have confirmed the location of the Vindicarn and Narcon ships in sector 119-322. They’ve retreated even farther this time. Either we are beating them back…”
“Or they are just waiting for reinforcements,” Byron said, running his hand through his hair.
Ganter nodded, his eyes reduced to mere slits, which further wrinkled his forehead. “We lost thirteen men today I’m afraid. Another twenty are wounded. The nine men injured by disrupters just returned from the Tgren medical facility and should rejoin their squadrons tomorrow.”
“We lost six, with five injuries. Fortunately we did not have to deal with the Vindicarn today.”
“Small mercies. How many civilians?’
Byron pressed his fingers hard against the desk. “Forty-nine at last count. All but one are Tgren.”
“Damn good thing they finally declared war then.”
Just wish it hadn’t required a direct attack to get them to do it, Byron thought. “Commander, let me know if the enemy’s position changes.”
Ganter signed off, plunging Byron’s office into silence once more. After the daylong assault on his senses and mind, he needed a moment of peace. Reluctant to contact his security officer for an update, he pulled up Mard’s latest report on his computer. The numbers hadn’t changed, although the names of most Tgren casualties were now listed. He was relieved Athee’s uncle had escaped the ranks of civilians killed in the attack. The loss would’ve devastated her.
Byron’s gaze shifted to the list of Cassans killed during battle. His chest tightened as he read the names once again. He knew every one of those men, but it was the third name that dug deepest. Menernx, a pilot serving his third year on Tgren. The young man had possessed talent and an eagerness to improve. He’d also boasted a free spirit and great sense of humor.
Just like your father, Ernx, Byron thought, picturing his friend during their last exchange. Ernx no longer flew Cosbolts, but he’d lost none of his quick wit. Aware the death of his only son would devastate his friend, Byron had sent the news himself. Better Ernx hear it from his former comrade than receive an impersonal message.
I am so sorry, my friend, he thought.
Byron?
His mate’s was the one voice he didn’t mind breaking the silence. How is your uncle?
He’s resting, thought Athee. The medical staff said he‘ll be here at least a week. I’m going to stay here with him tonight. Istaner is working with the cleanup crews and my cousin’s mate is helping with supplies. Besides, sitting by his bedside will give me time to fill out my reports.
Irony tugged at Byron’s chest. I think I can cut you some slack if they aren’t done in a timely fashion. Besides, I know what happened during the battle. I was there, remember?
I can at least fill out my report on Ktren. I’ll miss you tonight.
I’ll miss you, Byron thought, closing his eyes to allow her words to fill his senses. They rarely spent nights apart and he would miss the warmth of her body at his side.
Don’t forget to retrieve Bassan before you go home.
Byron’s eyes flew open. Retrieve Bassan? I thought he was staying with Mevine?
He’s spoken to me several times tonight, asking when he can go home. Today really scared him.
Can’t he stay with you?
It’s too chaotic here, thought Athee. It would really disturb him to see the damage.
I still have work to do, though. I’ll ask Mevine if he can stay…
Byron! Athee’s voice bordered on indignant. I know we have our duties, but he hasn’t seen either of us all day and he’s really scared. And don’t tell me he ought to understand the harshness of war. All he knows is he could’ve lost both of us today.
Covering his eyes, Byron moaned. He hadn’t counted on taking care of Bassan tonight. There were still tasks he needed to complete. Granted he could perform his duties from home, but the day had taken its toll on Byron’s body. As parched as the desert surrounding Ktren, his energy was spent.
Bassan has contacted me three times in the last hour, asking when you would arrive, thought Athee. If you aren’t going to retrieve him, then you tell our son he won’t see either of us tonight.
Damn your powers of persuasion, Byron thought. I’ll leave in a few minutes.
Good. I’ll feel better knowing he is with you.
Is that the real reason you want me to get him?
He wants to be with his father. That’s all the reason that matters.
Guilt pricked at Byron’s conscience. His gaze strayed to the computer screen and Menernx’s name. I’m on my way. I’ll speak with you later.
He fielded two more messages while crossing the compound, and Byron had to pause outside of Mevine’s door to answer a third. Hopefully, he could go a few hours to
night without his computer pad chirping or a voice echoing in his head. Byron needed some sleep.
When the door slid aside, Bassan leapt out to greet him. His son hesitated, eyes wide as the boy stared at his father. Byron imagined he appeared rough. He’d never even changed out of his flight suit. Not wanting to scare his son further, he offered a faint smile. Bassan at once threw his arms around his father, clinging to Byron in a manner that suggested he might never let go. Byron draped his free arm around his son, too tired to offer more.
“You look beat.”
Byron glanced up and noticed Mevine in the doorway. The science officer straightened his shoulders.
“Sir!” he added.
“Mevine,” Byron said, shaking his head. How many times have I told you? No formalities here. I appreciate you watching Bassan.
“He is always welcome,” said Mevine, smiling at Bassan. The boy broke his death grip on Byron and slid his small fingers into his father’s hand.
Go home and rest, thought Mevine. It’s been a long, terrible day for everyone, and you do indeed look beat.
More than you can imagine. Goodnight, my friend.
Once they were home, Byron told Bassan to amuse himself in his room. Byron wanted nothing more than to shed the flight suit, which felt stuck to his body. His son obliged, providing Byron time to clean up and grab something to drink. He intended to send Bassan to bed at that point, but an urgent message derailed that idea. Collapsing on the oversized couch, he answered the call.
Several other messages had arrived and he listened to each one. Reaching the last one, Byron hesitated before opening the message from Ernx. Judging from the timestamp, his friend had sent it not long after receiving news of his son’s death this morning, Cassan time. Byron hadn’t expected a reply. He stared at it, afraid to let the message play. Ernx had lost his son under Byron’s command. The response couldn’t be good.
Leaning forward, he tapped the message. Ernx’s image appeared, his aging face revealing more lines than Byron remembered. Eyes dark and shoulders stooped, Ernx looked every bit a man who’d just lost his son.
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