CassaStar (26 page)

His mind continued to rehash the events leading up to the disrupter shot. Byron berated himself for allowing Bassa’s injuries to occur. After the first disrupter blast crossed their nose, he should’ve jumped to another location. Byron wondered if his navigator had sensed fatigue and selected the evasive maneuver to prevent the overtaxing of his abilities. Teleporting would’ve removed both men from danger, though. He never questioned Bassa’s judgment, but Byron wished this once he’d taken the initiative and jumped the ship to safety.

A medical officer retrieved the first man, and Byron watched as the pair disappeared through a second set of double doors to his left. He shifted his position, his muscles sore and stiff. The pervading medicinal smell and distant echoes of urgent voices continued to assault his senses. His mind racked with fear and guilt, he doubted he could wait much longer. If he didn’t receive word soon, Byron’s patience and rationality would come to an abrupt end.

“
Officer Byron?”

Lifting his gaze, he noticed a man standing in the doorway to his left. Byron scrambled to his feet, his muscles protesting the rapid movement. Holding his breath, he waited for the medic to speak first.

“
We’ve stabilized Officer Bassa,” he announced in a low voice. “He’s sleeping at the moment, but you may see him now.”

Byron nodded, afraid to trust his voice just yet. He followed the man through the doors and down a short hallway, his anxiety rising with every step. They turned to the right and entered a long corridor dotted with many open doorways. The technician proceeded to the third door on the left and gestured for Byron to enter. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer and peered into the room.

The lights were dim, but he had no trouble discerning the occupant of the oversized bed. Monitors filled the wall over Bassa’s head, their functions unknown to Byron. Wires were attached to his temples, the lines snaking up to connect with the various displays. A tube filled with a clear fluid pumped medication into his arm and a gentle beeping signified Bassa’s heartbeat. While the sight was unnerving, what struck Byron was the lack of pain on his friend’s face.

“
Will he regain his senses?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“
We won’t know until tomorrow morning,” the medic replied. “You can stay with him until he awakens if you like.”

Byron nodded in affirmation and entered the room. He paused by Bassa’s side, his eyes on his navigator’s face. At least his friend no longer felt excruciating pain. Feeling his emotions surge, he glanced at the doorway. To his relief, Byron realized he was alone.

A padded stool sat to one side and he pulled it closer to the bed. Once seated, Byron stared at the still figure. He didn’t know what to do and felt helpless.

“
Bassa, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, aware his words would go unheard. Raising his hand, he hesitated before touching Bassa’s arm. “You have to be all right, Bassa. Damn it, I’m not flying with another navigator.”

Byron swallowed hard, his eyes on the unmoving figure. Bassa had sacrificed so much, giving up a high-ranking position just to follow an arrogant young pilot into space. In the hands of a less qualified navigator, Byron doubted he’d still be alive. As he sat staring at Bassa, he realized the man’s contribution extended far beyond the cockpit. The senior officer had become Byron’s first real friend.

He remained at Bassa’s side while the man slept. Unable to communicate mentally, the lack of sensation would unnerve his friend when he awoke and the physical presence of his pilot might provide some comfort. Byron’s stomach began to protest the lack of food, but he refused to leave. He could not indulge his meager needs while Bassa’s body was still held captive by pain.

The appearance of a medical officer roused Byron from his thoughts. The man approached the bed and turned off one of the monitors.

“
He’ll wake up soon,” the technician explained as he removed the tube from Bassa’s arm. “His head will still hurt, but the burning sensation will have subsided. His senses will remain numb until tomorrow, at which time we hope they will return.”

The medic adjusted another monitor and departed. Releasing his friend’s hand, Byron stretched his arms. He ran fingers through his unkempt hair, still matted from his helmet. Shifting his position on the stool, he peered closely at Bassa, watching for signs of life.

After a few minutes, Bassa’s breathing changed in pitch. The peaceful expression faded and his friend’s eyes closed even tighter. A soft moan escaped Bassa’s lips and pain once again colored his face.

“
Bassa?” Byron gasped. He cleared his throat. “The medic said your head would still hurt.”

His friend did not appear to comprehend his words. Concerned, Byron grasped Bassa’s hand once more. His navigator’s grip tightened around his palm and Byron realized that physical contact was all his friend understood. Determined to provide a measure of comfort, he wrapped both hands around Bassa’s and waited.

Bassa raised his other hand to his face. Byron started to reassure his navigator before remembering that Bassa wouldn’t hear his mental voice either. His partner rubbed his forehead and uttered a soft moan. His hand dropped, and Bassa opened his eyes, blinking to focus on his surroundings. Byron leaned a little closer.

“
Bassa?” he asked, hoping to reach his friend this time.

His navigator turned his head and met Byron’s gaze. His eyes were dull, but he obviously recognized the man at his bedside. Managing a weak smile, Byron nodded.

“
Welcome back,” he said with relief.

Bassa took a deep breath. “How long was I out?” he asked, his voice faint.

“
A few hours. They kept you under during the worst of the pain.”

Brows coming together, Bassa appeared puzzled. “Head still hurts,” he murmured, “but I can’t feel anything else.”

“
Your senses won’t return until tomorrow morning,” Byron explained, speaking with conviction. He hesitated, disturbed by the fear now evident on his friend’s face.

“
Can you feel this?” he asked, squeezing Bassa’s hand.

The man’s grip tightened around Byron’s fingers. “Yes,” he replied.

Byron smiled, hoping to reassure his friend. Bassa’s gaze dropped and he frowned.

“
You’re still in your flight suit,” he observed, his voice still shaky.

“
I haven’t had time to change, you know.”

His navigator appeared surprised. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“
Well, of course,” Byron stammered.

A smile played at the corners of Bassa’s mouth. “Thank you.”

The gratitude in his friend’s eyes embarrassed him and Byron dropped his gaze. “I couldn’t just leave you here alone,” he explained, a lump rising in his throat.

A noise distracted him and Byron looked up just as a medical officer entered the room. He leaned away from the bed but did not relinquish his hold on Bassa’s hand.

“
I see you are awake now,” the technician observed, inspecting a monitor. “Head still hurt?”

“
Yes,” Bassa answered.

The man nodded and adjusted a setting. “It will subside in the next few hours. Unless there is permanent damage, your mental abilities will resurface tomorrow morning.

“
In the meantime, I’ll have a meal brought to you,” the medic announced as he moved toward the doorway. “You’ll probably sleep for a few more hours after that.”

Once they were alone, Bassa turned to his pilot. “You should go eat, too,” he said, his voice a little bit stronger.

“
I can wait.”

“
Byron …”

Raising his eyebrows, Byron flashed a wry smile. “I don’t think you’re in a position to give orders right now.”

Byron remained at his side until Bassa had eaten and drifted to sleep again. Slipping out of the infirmary, he reached his quarters without being spotted. Requesting a meal in his room, Byron stripped off his flight suit and jumped in the shower. His food arrived as he was dressing and he all but inhaled the contents on his plate in his haste to return to Bassa’s side.

He discovered his friend still sleeping. It felt odd to watch Bassa sleep, but after the man’s earlier distress, he wanted to be in attendance when he awoke. If his physical presence provided stability, Byron refused to deny his friend that small consolation.

He’d not waited long when a figure appeared in the doorway. Byron’s eyes widened as he recognized the ship’s commander and he rose to his feet. Kernen nodded at the young pilot as he entered the room. His gaze shifted to the figure in the bed.

Officer Bassa still sleeping?
he asked, pausing at the foot of the bed.

He awoke earlier, sir,
Byron replied.
He fell asleep again after eating.

The commander stared at Bassa, his brows furrowed. Kernen’s thoughts were guarded, but Byron thought he detected genuine concern in the man’s eyes.

Shifting his gaze to Byron, the commander’s eyes narrowed
. Bassa’s tough, Officer Byron. It will take more than a Vindicarn disrupter to bring him down.

Byron lifted his chin, buoyed by the conviction in the man’s words.
I hope so, sir.

A faint smile crossed Kernen’s lips.
You’ve certainly given Bassa a reason to recover,
he offered, his tone kind.

Surprised by the man’s observation, Byron could only nod in agreement.

Please inform Bassa I came to see him,
the commander requested, turning to depart.

Yes, sir,
Byron replied as Kernen disappeared from the room. He continued to ponder the implication of the commander’s words for several minutes. His presence here might encourage Bassa, but he couldn’t imagine his life a motivational force in any situation.

An hour later, Bassa roused again. He seemed far more coherent than his first awakening although still bothered by the lack of mental connection. Byron didn’t need to read his thoughts to realize his friend appreciated his presence, either, as it was reflected in his eyes and the tight grasp on his pilot’s hand.

Bassa had no difficulty rising when a medic arrived to assist with necessities. Outside of groggy from so much sleep, his physical condition was much improved. He protested when the technician insisted he return to his bed, claiming he was ready to return to his quarters.

“
The senior officer must evaluate your condition first,” the medic advised, prodding Bassa back into bed.

Annoyed by the delay, Bassa adjusted the bed to an upright position. He consumed the water left by the technician before fiddling with the controls again. His pilot chuckled at Bassa’s disgruntled attitude.

“
I see I’m not the only one who questions orders,” Byron observed.

“
I feel fine,” Bassa protested, shifting the pillow behind his back.

“
Head feels better?”

Bassa nodded and settled against the pillow at last. No longer distracted by petty annoyances, his thoughts turned to the void within his mind. The lack of all sensation was unsettling.

“
Just feels … numb,” he mumbled. “I can’t feel a damn thing.”

Byron patted his shoulder. “Your senses will return tomorrow,” he promised.

Meeting his pilot’s gaze, Bassa emitted a sigh. “I never realized how much we rely on those mental links. Even if it’s only temporary, now that I find myself without any connection at all …”

A senior medial officer appeared and he inspected every monitor, asking several questions in the process. Bassa confirmed the lack of pain and sensation, assuring the man he felt fine otherwise. Unnerved by his condition, he wanted to return to the familiar surroundings of his quarters as soon as possible.

“
Your condition is stable,” the officer announced, regarding Bassa with a patient smile. “However, until we’ve determined whether or not your senses will return, you’ll require observation.”

“
Observation?” Bassa asked, perplexed. He didn’t want to remain here overnight.

“
Someone must stay with you until full recovery is achieved. Either that or we monitor your progress here.”