CassaStar (10 page)

Bassa had worried that the other pilots might attempt some of Byron’s more daring moves. Now the young man possessed yet another trick they could not hope to perform with any amount of success. The senior officer’s efforts to suppress chaos would really be put to the test with this new development.

His thoughts shifted as he became aware of Byron’s overflowing pride and elation. The young man sensed his great accomplishment and was making no attempt to hide his excitement. Bassa needed to regain control of the situation and fast.

New coordinates,
he told Byron, selecting the location of their next jump.

Confirming the position, Byron jumped the ship once again. Bassa checked the teleporter’s energy level and discovered his pilot hadn’t even touched the five percent of restored power. The young man had jumped twice now using his own abilities.

Another jump, sir?
Byron inquired, his eagerness obvious.

No,
Bassa replied.
Return to base.

Once in the hanger, Byron turned to face Bassa as they exited the cockpit.

“
Sir, are we still receiving a mark on our record?” he asked, his demeanor humble.

Bassa straightened his shoulders. “I will make that decision tomorrow,” he answered, dismissing Byron with a curt nod.

The young man retreated to the flight room to change. Bassa remained by the ship for a moment, lost in thought. He was in unchartered territory now and needed to contemplate his course of action. Byron would require guidance beyond standard Cosbolt training. Moreover, it would need to be performed in secret.

The boy’s living up to his challenging reputation, Bassa thought.

The following day, squadron training focused on defensive combat maneuvers. Byron had anticipated teleporting regulations and procedures and felt relieved. The jabs he had received from the other trainees frustrated him, even more so because he couldn’t reveal his unique ability.

He’d discussed the matter in private with Trindel. His navigator appeared in awe of the talent. Byron’s own excitement was dampened by the thought of a mark on their record, though. It might even result in failure to pass the course, and that thought chilled him to the core.

Their afternoon flight was unmarred by incident and the instructor spent little time discussing their performance. Byron wondered when his team would learn of their fate. As the debriefing ended, though, he heard Bassa’s voice in his head.

Report to my office.

Meeting the senior officer’s gaze, Byron nodded in affirmation. He turned and realized Trindel was staring at his teammate, his eyes wide.

Let’s go,
he told Trindel, gesturing for his friend to move.

They rode the lift in silence. Trindel’s anxiety filled the small compartment and Byron shifted uncomfortably. He wished his navigator could exhibit some control over his feelings. Whatever news they were about to receive, he didn’t want to give Bassa the satisfaction of knowing it bothered them.

They exited the lift and walked toward Bassa’s office. As the men approached the double doors, Byron turned to Trindel.

Relax.You’re making me nervous!

I’ll try,
Trindel replied with a sigh.
I guess it can’t be that bad. After all, he didn’t call us out in front of everyone.

Straightening his shoulders, Byron passed his hand over the press plate and announced their arrival. The doors slid aside and the young men entered, apprehensive but prepared to receive their fate.

Sitting at his desk, Bassa gestured for them to take a seat. Byron and Trindel sank into the large chairs, unable to read the senior officer’s expression as he stared at the pair. Byron grasped the armrests and waited.

“
You have presented me with a unique situation,” Bassa announced, his eyes on Byron. “Exceptional abilities are incredibly rare, and for reasons beyond my understanding, yours were missed in earlier testing. However, you do possess the mental ability to jump even when the teleporter lacks energy by channeling your own into the unit.”

Trindel shot Byron a quick glance, but his thoughts remained concealed. Byron kept his expression neutral and waited for Bassa to continue.

“
First, I need to assess the extent of your ability. Tomorrow after the debriefing, you are to report to Officer Char for a full evaluation,” instructed the senior officer.

“
Yes, sir,” Byron replied. Tomorrow’s flight lesson was to be brief, giving the men a rare afternoon of freedom. However, if the psyche test meant he’d be free to jump more often, Byron was willing to sacrifice a few hours of down time.

“
Once the extent of your ability has been assessed, you and I will practice every afternoon after the debriefing,” Bassa announced. “When I’ve determined your skill level, Trindel will join you in the cockpit and I will supervise from my Darten. Understood?”

“
Yes, sir,” the men said in unison.

Bassa regarded them with cautious eyes. “During standard training, you are to refrain from performing more than one jump per exercise unless otherwise instructed.”

“
One jump, sir?” exclaimed Byron, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think.

“
One jump! That is a direct order, pilot.”

Byron felt his shoulders slump. “Yes, sir,” he answered, disappointed by the turn of events. Many of his trademark maneuvers required jumps.

“
I want you to focus on your skills during regular lessons. You will have ample opportunity to jump during our sessions. I don’t want the other pilots getting it in their heads that they can make multiple jumps without consequence. Limiting your jumps is one way to accomplish that feat. Concealing your ability is another. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your ability to the other trainees or discuss our private sessions. Understood?”

“
Yes, sir,” Byron and Trindel replied.

“
If you are fortunate enough to complete this course and join the fleet, your ability will remain concealed from all but your superiors. Once you have joined a real squadron, you will appreciate the need for secrecy.

“
Any questions?”

“
No, sir,” Trindel answered without hesitation.

Byron sensed his navigator was eager to depart, but the issue of their record weighed on his mind.

“
Sir?” he asked, feeling apprehensive. “Are we receiving a mark for yesterday’s actions?”

Bassa appeared to contemplate his answer. Byron gripped the armrests even tighter and held his breath.

“
After considering the conditions which lead to the reprimand,” the senior officer announced, “I have decided not to include the incident in your permanent records.”

A great weight fell from Byron’s shoulders and he flashed his navigator a grin. Trindel sighed and smiled in return. Their record would remain unmarred.

“
I will expect more from your team, though,” Bassa warned, his deep voice commanding their attention. “Do not give me cause to reconsider my decision.”

“
No, sir!” they cried in unison.

“
You are dismissed.”

Neither required prodding, and the young men retreated from Bassa’s office in haste. Once in the hallway and at a safe distance, Trindel let loose a loud exclamation of relief.

“
No mark on our record!” he cried, patting Byron’s shoulder.

“
And we get specialized training, too,” Byron added, eager to begin those lessons. It meant extra work and longer hours, but he suspected those flights would add value to his team.

“
Hope it won’t be long before I get to join you. Bassa’s so thorough, he might hold you hostage for weeks,” Trindel observed.

Byron rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think such a thing!”

The thought of weeks trapped in the cockpit with the senior instructor sounded like torture. Byron hoped he could avoid such a scenario. He wanted to enjoy his special privileges, not dread the whole experience!

Chapter Five

Byron landed his ship with the utmost precision, pulling back on the throttle as the fighter glided down the runway. Easing into position, he felt his navigator’s assistance. A second later, the runners locked into place and ship came to a halt.

Closing his eyes, Byron willed his muscles to relax. Today’s session had exceeded intense. Bassa had run him through numerous scenarios and multiple jumps, pushing his limits to the extreme. Byron had performed the maneuvers without error, but it required every ounce of energy to maintain the necessary level of concentration. Adjusting to the nuances of Bassa’s style of navigating had added to the challenge as well.

Once his initial solo sessions were complete, Byron had assumed all subsequent lessons would involve Trindel. To his dismay, Bassa insisted on one flight a week with his pupil. Byron found these flights uncomfortable. He was familiar with Trindel’s subtle guidance and presence in his head. Bassa’s navigation was more assertive and commanding. Byron didn’t enjoy sharing his thoughts with the senior officer, either.

Their vessel taxied into the hanger and Byron shut off the engines. His emergence from the cockpit was slow, and his nerves were still on edge from the flight. Grasping the side of the ship to steady his trembling body, he realized Bassa was waiting for him at the foot of the ladder.

Your flight today was good!
Bassa thought as Byron descended the steps with care.
I sensed fatigue after the final jump, though.

I was still able to perform, sir,
Byron replied, turning to face the senior officer.

You must understand your limits. That is the primary purpose of our solo flights.

Yes, sir,
Byron answered, his thoughts guarded.

Bassa’s brows came together, his eyes scrutinizing the young man’s face. Byron could not hide his physical exhaustion, but he refused to divulge his mental state. He tolerated the invasion of his mind during their flights out of necessity. However, outside of the cockpit he preferred privacy.

I will be taking the evening meal in my office,
Bassa announced.
You will join me.

Dining with the senior officer held no appeal, but Byron sensed it was order rather than a request.
Yes, sir.

With a nod, Bassa took his leave. Feeling apprehensive, Byron retreated to the flight room to change. Bassa had a purpose for their meeting tonight. Byron wondered what aspect of his attitude required adjustment this time.

Trindel visited his quarters just before the evening meal. Byron’s navigator had enjoyed a couple hours of free time today and his high spirits reflected that liberty. His afternoon anything but relaxing, Byron resented his lack of opportunity to rejuvenate during the meal.

“
How was the flight?” Trindel asked, leaning against the door.

“
Exhausting,” Byron conceded, rising from his chair. “I’d rather fly with you.”

Trindel grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Appreciate that! So, it was really tough today?”

“
Very!” exclaimed Byron, rubbing his eyes. His temples still throbbed from the multiple jumps and he contemplated taking a sedative for the pain. His headache would only increase during the evening meal.

“
Just hate having him in my head,” he growled.

His navigator shifted his feet. Byron sensed a quick suppression of emotion. Frowning, he gestured for Trindel to speak.

“
Byron, you don’t like anyone in your head,” he bluntly stated.

“
I don’t object to your presence.”

“
Only because I’m your navigator,” explained Trindel. “Otherwise, I doubt I’d enjoy that privilege.”

Taken aback by his words, Byron stared at his navigator in disbelief. His friendship with Trindel wasn’t just out of necessity. Their exchanges were genuine. Byron was open with his friend, and the trust ran beyond their professional relationship.