CassaFire

by Alex J. Cavanaugh

  Under the table, Byron’s hand grasped his knee in an effort to remain patient with the woman. “Because you are broadcasting your emotions for all to hear.”

  Athee’s eyes widened and she leaned away from the table. “You know what I’m feeling? What I’m thinking?” she gasped in a horrified voice.

  “I can’t hear specific thoughts, just general feelings,” he assured Athee, hoping to quiet the panic that pulsated from her mind. “I’ll teach you how to control that, but first, I need to teach you how to access it.”

  She eyed him with caution and leaned forward again. “How do I do that?”

  Byron reached deep into his memory. A disrupter blast had numbed Bassa’s senses. Athee’s abilities weren’t inactive, just out of control. Helping her to find the proper channels would be easier than coaxing mental powers from the ashes of a disrupter-fried mind. At least, he hoped that was the case.

  “First, I need you to stop talking,” Byron instructed, “and relax.”

  Athee’s mind settled into a gentle stir of excitement tinged with anxiety. “Now what?”

  “You’re still talking.”

  “Sorry.”

  Byron shook his head. This was going to be difficult. Why couldn’t Narunva train her on the Rennather? Surely, the man had more experience with new psychic powers. Was there a reason Korden wanted Byron to work with Athee?

  Pressing both elbows on the table, he fixed the Tgren woman with a firm stare. She returned his gaze without the slightest trace of intimidation, her green eyes unusually bright in the low light. He’d meant to turn on the light, but didn’t want to get up now. The window provided enough illumination for his purpose.

  Hear my voice?

  Her lips parted in surprise. “Yes.”

  No, I need you to respond with your mind. Hear my voice and answer me with your thoughts.

  Byron sensed her attempt to reply. Her thoughts stirred, but formed no clear words. He enticed her to respond several times, desperate for Athee to answer without assistance. After a few moments, she leaned away in frustration.

  “What am I doing wrong?” she said, clenching her fists.

  Dropping his chin, Byron pulled his arms tighter across his chest. Entering another’s mind was not an experience he relished. Since she appeared unable to connect with the correct brain waves, he needed to go in and pull her thoughts along the path. Like it or not, he had to encroach upon her thoughts.

  Let me show you how.

  Entering Athee’s mind, he felt for the portion that controlled telepathy. Most Cassans resisted probing to a degree, as it violated one’s privacy. Byron detested the sensation. To his surprise, Athee offered no resistance. Her mind was open and willing, like that of a child. Unprepared for such trust, Byron fumbled for a moment before locating the telepathic center of her mind. Now he had only to connect and provide a path for Athee to follow.

  You need to stretch those mental muscles. Follow my voice. Focus on nothing else but the strength of my voice. You possess the same ability. Talk to me as if you were speaking out loud, only use your mind instead.

  How?

  Just like that.

  Athee’s eyes grew wide. Byron nodded and gestured with his fingers for her to continue. Again. Follow my voice and tell me your name.

  Determination arose deep within her mind. Athee, her thoughts whispered.

  Louder! Project that voice and talk to me.

  Her brows came together. Athee, she thought, her mental voice stronger but still faint.

  Project louder. Give it some effort. Damn, woman–I know you like to talk!

  I do not!

  Byron grinned. He’d struck a nerve. Yes, you do. Now prove it.

  Athee frowned, indignation flowing through her mind. Now you’re mocking me.

  No, I am trying to get you to use your mental voice by any means possible.

  She continued to banter with him. Every time Athee used her telepathy, her voice grew stronger. Much to his relief, it began to overshadow her emotional projections. Under normal circumstances, constant chatter irritated Byron. Something in the innocence of Athee discovering her mental voice for the first time prevented the experience from grating on his nerves. Her genuine delight and eager questions regarding her telepathy reminded him of a babbling stream; a constant noise that soothed the senses.

  Noticing the passage of time through the open window, Byron leaned away from the table. He realized his legs and back were stiff from sitting. He’d dreaded this experience, but survived several hours of intense mental training. His obligations were satisfied, at least for today.

  Now remember, if you use your mental voice around other Cassans, they will hear you, he cautioned as they exited the room. I’ll show you how to shield tomorrow, but for the time being, don’t project.

  And don’t make any smart remarks?

  A smirk tugged at her lips. Byron sensed mischief and returned her grin.

  Don’t pick a fight with someone who can kick your ass, he thought before retreating to the stairwell that led to the sleeping quarters. Because I won’t save you.

  “You wanted to see me, Uncle?”

  Orellen glanced up from his work. His desk was strewn with papers, but the ones in his hand caught Athee’s eye. The prefect liked to check flight patterns on occasion and held the week’s patrol schedule.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, laying aside the papers.

  “All of the patrols have been covered,” she asserted, concerned her uncle might think she’d slacked in her duties as lead pilot. Athee had designated other pilots to fill the void in the schedule due to her training with Byron.

  “Yes, and to my satisfaction.” The prefect leaned back in his chair, his thick fingers strumming the desk. “Istaner informed me of your flying instructions today with the Cassan officer.”

  I bet he did! Athee thought, shifting her weight. Istaner had vocalized his dissatisfaction with Byron’s training style more than once in her presence. She tended to ignore her cousin’s grumblings. Istaner complained about everything.

  “But you’ve failed to report your progress with the psychic aspect of that man’s training,” he said, fixing her with a fierce stare. His expression did not intimidate Athee.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle. We’ve had two sessions thus far. I learned how to focus on my powers yesterday. Today Byron taught me how to project and shield my thoughts. By the time we finished, he stated I was quite proficient.”

  Orellen’s expression grew less harsh, but he didn’t appear convinced. Her uncle remained skeptical even after the report from Narunva. He continued to assert that mental powers were unnatural and impractical. And he didn’t believe Tgrens possessed the same ability as the Cassans. Athee decided there was only one way to prove her abilities.

  Uncle, I can now speak with my mind.

  Her words had the desired effect. Orellen’s eyebrows rose and his mouth opened, stretching his face. This removed some of the baggy wrinkles that marred his skin. Feeling triumphant, Athee laughed.

  “You heard me!” she stated, slapping his desk with her palm. “And it’s not a freakish ability. Uncle, think of the possibilities. If we could all communicate with our minds, we could stay in contact with our pilots, even if our radios fail. Emergency calls could go out immediately. Transmissions to other cities could be instantaneous.”

  The prefect’s hands dropped to his lap. He offered no protest, but continued to stare at his niece. Athee sensed this was her one opportunity to reach him and bury all disbelief.

  Uncle, if you needed me, needed anyone, all you’d have to do is speak with your mind. You’d never lose contact.

  Athee presented her most disarming smile, hoping to soften the implication of her statement. Her aunt had died in a rockslide that claimed many lives, most of which were lost due to the inability to locate those buried under the rubble. Had they possessed mental abilities at the time, her aunt might’ve lived. She sensed that same thought now echoed in her uncle’s
mind.

  While his emotions were caught up in the memory, Athee focused her thoughts on persuading her uncle to see the advantages of telepathy. Orellen could be stubborn. However, she knew how to sway his opinion. She held a special place in his heart as his only niece, and after the death of her father, they’d grown even closer. Athee now relied on that bond to convince her uncle to see reason.

  “My dear, that is incredible,” he murmured.

  “It is, and we all share this trait. The Cassans can help us find and use our psychic powers to their full capacity, too.”

  Orellen offered a curt nod and leaned forward. “It appears I need to reconsider my position on the matter,” he said, enunciating each word with care.

  Athee smiled even as she suppressed her delight. Now that she understood her abilities, she could use her power of persuasion to greater effect. Byron could teach her telepathy and teleportation, but there was one skill she’d already mastered. It pleased Athee to know her instructor did not share the strength of her talent, either.

  “I wouldn’t flaunt that trick just yet,” the prefect cautioned. “You might frighten someone who’s not prepared to hear the voice of a fellow Tgren in his head.”

  Athee crossed her arms and chuckled. “I caught Erenta by surprise this morning,” she confessed, still amused by her fellow pilot’s stunned reaction. “And Istaner’s next.”

  “Athee!”

  “Uncle!” she countered. “I get so few opportunities to best my only cousin. Grant me this one indulgence.”

  Orellen shook his head and reached for a fresh stack of papers. “You’re already a better pilot than Istaner,” he grumbled.

  Allowing a laugh to escape her lips, Athee circled the desk and gave her uncle a hug. He resisted at first, affecting cold indifference. She continued to cling to his shoulders, determined to break down all resistance. Soon, Orellen grasped her arm, patting it with affection.

  “Just don’t repeat that in his presence,” he ordered. “You’ll give my son an inferiority complex.”

  She planted a kiss on his cheek and released his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Athee patted his shoulder and turned to depart. She felt triumphant in her ability to manipulate her uncle’s line of thinking and sway it to the betterment of her people. It also assured continued sessions with Byron, which was a personal victory. Athee wanted to discover her full potential. She also wanted to spend more time in the company of the Cassan officer. He presented a mystery she was determined to unravel.

  “One more item I wanted to discuss,” Orellen said in a firm voice.

  Athee paused at the door and eyed her uncle with curiosity.

  “I want you to exercise caution around this Officer Byron. I know his type all too well. Unattached and lacking inhibition or restraint. I don’t trust the man. You be careful, Athee.”

  “I can handle the Cassan,” she stated with confidence, offering her sweetest smile. “After all, I handle you, don’t I?”

  Her uncle scowled and shook his head. “Be gone!” he ordered, his attention returning to his work.

  Athee retreated from her uncle’s office and grinned as she strode down the hallway. I’ve mastered you, my dear uncle, she thought. Now I just need to figure out what makes Byron tick.

  The seven Tgren planes landed, and Byron waited until all were on the ground before setting down the shuttle. Cutting off the engines, he leaned his head against the seat and exhaled slowly.

  The seven pilots under his tutelage were the best the city of Ktren had to offer, but they still lacked many skills. Athee topped the list, and another Tgren by the name of Erenta showed promise, but the remaining five made too many errors. Byron reminded himself their planes were incapable of tight maneuvers, which compounded issues. That still did not excuse poor execution of basic training exercises. After six days flying with the Tgren pilots, he wondered how any of them were still alive.

  He rubbed his temples, grateful for the cool air in the cockpit. I don’t know how they fly in this heat, he thought, releasing his harness. Byron leaned forward and checked the ship’s systems. He needed to return to the Rennather soon for fuel. Perhaps he’d schedule a flight for this evening.

  Glancing up, he noticed several of the Tgren pilots had gathered in the shade beside a hanger. He recognized Athee among those assembled, her long hair blowing across her shoulders. She and the others were listening to the tallest man in the group, a pilot named Istaner. Judging from his rapid gestures, the man was agitated.

  Byron grimaced. Athee’s older cousin was difficult. The man voiced his opinion without hesitation. Istaner’s demeanor matched that of his father’s and he questioned every instruction. The man considered himself a superior pilot, but since his skills did not match his boasts, Istaner’s attitude annoyed Byron. His patience with the Tgren pilot was growing thin.

  I should fly my Darten tomorrow instead, he thought. Get in some target practice.

  Hungry and ready for a decent meal, Byron released the hatch. A small cart rolled up as he descended the ramp. The engine emitted a plume of smoke as it came to a jarring stop. Coughing, he pivoted away and noticed Athee approaching the shuttle. Byron glanced back at the cart as the lone passenger leapt to the ground. The two reached him at the same time.

  “Officer Byron, can you take me to the Rennather?” Seheller asked. “I need to retrieve a piece of equipment from my lab.”

  His stomach rumbled in protest, but Byron could hardly refuse the senior science officer passage. At any rate, a meal aboard the ship sounded more appetizing. He might even have time to take his Darten out before returning to the surface.

  “Of course.”

  The man nodded and returned to the cart. Glancing at Athee, he noticed a smirk on her face. She had mastered shielding, but Byron didn’t need to hear the woman’s thoughts to know she was scheming.

  “Can I come along?” she said.

  Byron stared at her in surprise. “We’d need clearance first,” he explained.

  “So ask.”

  “Commander Korden’s not going to grant permission just because you want to see the ship again.”

  Athee cocked her head and fixed him with a firm stare. “No, but he’ll grant permission so you can begin training me to teleport.”

  Exasperated, Byron shook his head and grasped the frame of the hatch. He wanted a peaceful ride to the Rennather and an opportunity to relax before returning to Tgren. Instructing Athee on how to tap into the ship’s teleportation device did not factor into that equation.

  Officer Seheller approached, a pack over his shoulder and a large computer tablet in his arms. Byron stepped aside and allowed the man entry to the ship. Athee placed one foot on the ramp and a hand on her hip, still awaiting his answer. He felt the pressure of her mind, prompting him to comply with her request. Her powers of persuasion were too strong for his tastes.

  You don’t always get what you want, you know, Byron told her, crossing his arms in defiance.

  She raised one eyebrow. No, but I was promised training, and that included learning how to teleport.

  Byron scowled at her, annoyed by her reasoning, not to mention dogged persistence. Athee was the most stubborn person he’d ever met. However, if he didn’t acquiesce to her request, she would badger him all afternoon during their session.

  “Fine, I’ll contact the commander.”

  He returned to the cockpit. Pressing the com button with force, Byron requested a word with Korden. While he waited, he seethed quietly. Byron couldn’t decide which annoyed him more–Athee’s obstinate demand or his inability to stand his ground. After facing countless battles and hostile environments, Byron had allowed a petite, unarmed girl to get the best of him.

  Officer Byron?

  He sat up straight, unprepared for a mental response. Byron didn’t like to bother the commander without good reason. Korden’s tone bore no trace of irritation, though.

  Sorry to interrupt you, sir. I’m returning
to the ship with Officer Seheller and a second passenger who requires clearance.

  One of the Tgrens?

  Yes, Athee. She wants to experience the teleporter and begin training on the device.

  There was a pause. Has she achieved an acceptable level of proficiency in other areas?

  Yes, sir. Byron grasped the edge of the console, fighting with his next thought. Achieved and surpassed.

  Permission granted, but proceed with caution, Korden instructed. Remember, Byron, you are responsible for that young woman. She represents far more than just a Tgren with unusual powers.

  Yes, sir.

  Byron’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Running fingers through his hair, he stared at a patch of sand on the floor. Damn desert planet, he thought. Invading my life on every level.

  Gaining control of his frustration, he arose from his chair. If you’re coming, get in, Byron informed Athee.

  She entered the cockpit within seconds. He refrained from meeting her gaze, unwilling to witness her triumphant expression. Once the hatch was secure, he returned and dropped into his seat. Grateful she’d mastered shielding, as he didn’t want to feel her smug thoughts, Byron started the engines. He wasn’t about to allow her victory on every level, though. Athee’s second trip into space would not be as smooth as the first.

  “Byron?”

  Gritting his teeth, he cast a sideways glance at his passenger. Athee stared at him, her head listing to one side. She offered a gentle smile.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He sensed her thoughts of gratitude and realized Athee’s words were genuine. Byron managed a curt nod before lifting the shuttle off the ground. Despite his original intentions, the ship’s accent was gradual. In any case, Seheller might’ve voiced displeasure with a rough flight.

  First, you need to understand the process, he told Athee. When I jump the ship into space, focus on the powers I use to tap into the teleporter.

  Check.

  Achieving the proper altitude, Byron leveled the shuttle. Now, concentrate on me.

  Athee’s presence filled his mind. Shielding all other thoughts, he allowed her to feel his connection with the teleporter. During normal jumps, Byron used his own powers rather than drain the unit. Athee needed to experience a standard jump, though. Linking with the teleporter’s energy, he visualized the coordinates. The hum of the device loud in his head, Byron jumped the shuttle.