CassaFire Page 11

  The men followed Athee as she led them around the courtyard. Byron had little use for possessions, but he feigned interest so as not to insult his Tgren hostess. Mevine’s fascination seemed genuine and he asked questions at every booth. They stopped often to speak with others attending the festival. Many reflected intrigue at his choice of company, but no one questioned the pilot or Athee. Byron hoped to avoid an encounter with the prefect. The man would not approve of the Cassan occupying his niece’s time.

  They were drawing closer to the musicians when Erenta approached Athee. He exchanged pleasantries with Byron and Mevine before asking Athee to dance. She glanced at Byron and he gestured toward the center court.

  “By all means, don’t let me stop you,” he said. Recalling Athee’s previous comments concerning the young man, Byron doubted Erenta would hold her attention for long. She regarded her fellow pilot as a friend, nothing more. Judging from Erenta’s eager expression, he still entertained hopes of changing her mind.

  Byron and Mevine located a table and grabbed the remaining two seats. Scanning the revelers, Byron surmised the majority of Ktren’s population was in attendance. A few Cassans were in evidence, clustered in small, segregated groups. He caught sight of Illenth, deep in conversation with a Tgren man, and admired the officer’s ability to blend with the natives. After many months in the Tgren sunshine, he even looked like one of the locals.

  “You’re going to dance with Athee again, aren’t you?” Mevine inquired.

  Byron’s attention shifted to the boy. “I only promised her one dance,” he said, finishing his drink.

  “Just one?”

  Mevine’s tone bordered on disrespect and Byron frowned, allowing his displeasure to project. At once he sensed regret in the lad’s thoughts.

  “Sir, I mean, you shouldn’t waste the opportunity,” Mevine stammered, sinking in his seat. “She’s pretty. I’m sure many others are vying for her attention.”

  “I wish them luck then,” Byron stated, choosing to let the young man’s remark slide.

  Athee returned without Erenta. She paused at Byron’s side, as if expecting him to rise. He held his ground, staring at the Tgren woman in defiance. He desired another dance with her, but didn’t want to give Athee the satisfaction.

  Mevine suddenly rose to his feet. “Athee, I’m not very good, but I’d be honored to dance with you.”

  Flashing a smug grin at Byron, she nodded in acceptance. Showing amazing agility for one so full of spirits, Mevine grasped her hand and walked Athee onto the court.

  Byron watched the couple with an interest that bordered on concern. Mevine was awkward with his steps and clung to Athee for balance. Irritation rose in his chest as he watched the Tgren woman dance with his young friend. Mevine’s actions did not please Byron. He might not be willing to acknowledge her intrigue, but that didn’t mean he wanted Mevine to show interest, either.

  Uttering a bark of laughter, Byron reached for his empty glass. You fool, you’re jealous, he thought, rising to seek a refill of his drink.

  His mood was settled when the couple returned. Point taken, he thought in a private exchange with Mevine. And dance with her again at your own risk.

  The young man heeded his warning and went in search of another drink. Athee continued to guide Byron around the vendor’s booths, securing refills of their glasses after the second stall. Unlike the other beverages, Jtal was not free. The man serving drinks did not charge Athee or even ask for consideration. Byron decided there were advantages to her company.

  The thought of enjoying more than free drinks also crossed his mind. If Mevine’s assessment proved accurate, Byron could end the evening with some physical pleasure. His earlier misgivings were muted by the amount of wine now flowing through his system.

  “Tell me more about your world,” she said before taking a sip of her wine.

  “What would you like to know?” Byron asked.

  “Which of the two home worlds is yours?”

  Her question surprised Byron. He didn’t realize Tgrens had access to such information. Considering the amount of Tgren history contained in the databanks, it was only fair these people knew a little about the race now occupying their land.

  “I grew up on Cassa.”

  Athee’s puzzled expression caught his eye. Lips pressed together, she tilted her head.

  “But is it home?”

  Byron kept his gaze facing forward. “Not really. I’ve been back a few times, whenever the Rennather is on leave. Even spent some time on Harenna, Cassa’s sister planet. But my home is on the Rennather.”

  “You feel at ease on a spaceship?”

  “I’ve spent almost twenty-one years on a spaceship. It’s comfortable.”

  Byron pressed closer to Athee as he allowed a group of Tgrens to pass. He sensed her enjoyment as their bodies touched. Byron realized that if he wanted anything to come of this evening, he needed to instigate some of the conversation.

  “So, tell me about you,” he said, clearing his throat. “What are your goals?”

  Athee’s smile encompassed her entire face. “I’ve always pushed myself to the limit, but after meeting your people, I realized those limits were very restrictive. Now that I know I have mental abilities, I want more. I want the opportunity to discover my potential…my real limits.”

  Flashing a wry grin, she winked.

  I want to do what you do!

  You want to explore the universe?

  I do, but, she thought with hesitation, more than that, I want to fly a fighter plane like yours.

  And I bet you’d make a damned fine pilot, Byron thought, shielding his assessment from Athee.

  Her comment further solidified Byron’s opinion of the female pilot and drew him closer. He remained with Athee all evening, and even allowed her to entice him onto the dance square on two more occasions.

  The crowds had begun to disperse when Byron decided to call it a night. He realized he’d enjoyed himself this evening. Athee was interesting and knowledgeable. Byron had learned a great deal about Tgren and its customs during the course of the evening. Athee liked to talk, but it was not idle chatter or inane observations. Her words held purpose; a quality Byron appreciated.

  The exchange with Mevine had run through his head the remainder of the evening. He’d hoped for some female companionship while on Tgren. Byron had not considered the prefect’s niece a viable source–there were too many variables. He was there to train Athee, not court the woman. Korden would not approve and Orellen’s reaction might involve a slow death. Despite his attraction to the young woman, the consequences were too great to risk involvement.

  However, after a relaxing evening in her company, Byron’s resolve to maintain distance began to slip. He felt comfortable in her presence. Adorned in feminine attire, Athee’s curves certainly held his attention. As Mevine had observed, she liked him. Byron wanted nothing more than to take advantage of a desirable and willing partner.

  “Were you staying?” he asked, shielding the true purpose of his question from Athee.

  She glanced at the square, still bustling with people. “I would, but I imagine my flight instructor will want to start at our normal hour tomorrow.”

  “With a little effort, he might be persuaded to begin later than usual,” Byron offered in a casual manner.

  “Oh really? I thought he was a rock when it came to schedules and flying.”

  “He’s not as strict as you think.” Byron cocked his head and grinned. “Can I escort you home?”

  Athee laughed and wrapped her hand around his arm. “Yes, you may.”

  They exited the square. Athee led him down a narrow street. Light posts dotted the roadways and hung over doorframes, but Byron could see without their assistance. Moonlight streamed down from above, casting its glow on the white surface of the stone buildings. With a few drinks in his system, the scene morphed into something surreal.

  “Sure you’ll be able to find your quarters again?”

&n
bsp; “I’ve a good sense of direction.”

  Athee made conversation as they walked. Byron tried his best to focus on her words and form intelligent responses, but his thoughts drifted. His physical receptors were filled with her feminine presence. The fingers wrapped around his arm sent jolts of desire down his spine. Her scent, mixed with a trace of sweat, enticed him further. Byron’s hopes for a satisfying end to the evening rose with each step as they drew near Athee’s dwelling. If the flying lesson began late tomorrow morning, so be it.

  They reached a row of single-level buildings. Athee paused at one of the many doors that dotted the walls. She turned to him and smiled.

  “I enjoyed your company tonight,” she said. Byron stepped closer.

  “I’ve enjoyed yours.”

  He sensed her open thoughts of desire, which fueled his own. Athee rested a hand on his chest, her posture relaxed, but expectant. He grasped her elbow and she edged forward, chin held high. Her eyes sparkled with intensity as he leaned closer. Byron no longer cared about protocol or restraint. He wanted Athee.

  A loud bark of laughter, followed by giggles, interrupted their moment. Byron glanced at the two revelers as they passed. The girl was a Tgren, but the young man was Cassan. The lad met his eyes, and Byron recognized the ensign at once.

  “Officer Byron,” the boy said in passing, ogling Athee. The girl on his arm grinned foolishly and giggled again.

  The couple continued on their path. Byron’s attention returned to Athee, and she moved closer. However, the sight of the ensign had dampened his spirits. How many men from the Rennather had witnessed their involvement tonight? He had monopolized Athee’s time and left the festival in her company. If word got back to Commander Korden…

  You idiot! You can’t do this, he thought, releasing Athee’s arm.

  “I need to get back to the compound,” he explained, placing some distance between them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Byron heard her disappointment and confusion pounding at his thoughts. Before she could voice a protest or question his actions, he retreated from the awkward scene. He did not slow his pace until he was within sight of the building that housed the Cassans. Byron felt relieved he’d escaped even as his male instincts protested his decision.

  No, he thought, clenching his fists in frustration. Athee is off limits.

  Entering the compound, Byron bounded up the stairs two at a time. He opened the first door on the left and entered his room. A single light burned from a tiny lamp by the bed. He surveyed the meager accommodations with disgust. He’d had the opportunity to sleep elsewhere and backed out due to fear.

  Annoyed with the situation, Byron sank onto the small bed and rubbed his forehead. His entire body ached, and it wasn’t from an overindulgence of wine. The pain irritated him, like a suit chaffing his skin. And it was more than a lack of physical satisfaction that bothered him. It was the feelings that now stirred in his chest.

  Damn it, you can’t get close to her, he thought. You can’t get close to anyone!

  Chapter Eight

  “How do you feel today?”

  Mevine glanced up from his work. His red eyes and pained expression indicated the Tgren wines had taken their toll on his body. Byron suspected his friend had indulged more than he was accustomed to at last night’s festival, especially if he was still feeling the effects this late in the afternoon.

  Mevine moaned and leaned back in his chair. “Awful,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging. “Felt like I was going to die this morning.”

  Byron chuckled. “Maybe you should take it easy on the spirits next time.”

  Closing his eyes, Mevine nodded in acceptance. “I know. Last night I was just so nervous though. I’m really not good in social situations. Thought it would help me relax.”

  “You were relaxed all right. And bold!”

  Mevine’s face fell. “Sir, I’m sorry if I said or did anything inappropriate,” he offered, his thoughts colored with genuine regret.

  Moved by Mevine’s forlorn expression, Byron patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at the computer screen. “Making any progress?”

  His question brightened the young man’s mood. “Yes. I guess a night away from our research did some good. We’ve confirmed these ruins are the remains of an alien ship.”

  “Oh?’

  “Whether it was originally housed in a cave or buried in a landslide, we don’t know. But analysis of a full scan this morning revealed all the components of a spacecraft.”

  A functioning alien craft, Byron thought.

  “And a breakthrough was made this morning with the language. Take a look.”

  Mevine pulled up a new screen. The Cassan alphabet was displayed on the left and the alien letters on the right. Several items were highlighted on each side of the equation.

  “We’ve matched a dozen letters to our own, including four that Officer Seheller believes are vowels. Once we’ve matched a few more, we can begin deciphering the text.”

  “Looks like we’re a few letters short,” Byron observed, noting the abundance of letters on the right hand side of the screen.

  “A few.” Mevine glanced at Byron and his shoulders sagged. “All right, the alien text outnumbers our symbols three to one. But, we believe they’re a variation in sound. Most of the symbols resemble nothing in our language, but the first batch we deciphered bore a strong resemblance. Hopefully, we can start transcribing the text by tomorrow. That is, if my head ever stops hurting,” Mevine added, rubbing his forehead.

  Byron suppressed his amusement. The boy was miserable enough. “Was it worth it, though?” he said.

  “I guess,” Mevine said with a shrug. He pivoted in his chair to face his visitor. “Did you have a good time?”

  Leaning against the computer console, Byron crossed his arms. “I suppose I did,” he admitted, his thoughts returning the evening’s events. Could’ve been better, he thought, recalling the night’s final moments.

  Mevine managed a weak smile. “That Tgren woman really likes you.”

  “Oh, you think so?”

  “You really should pursue her.”

  Byron shifted his position, uncomfortable with Mevine’s suggestion. “Why are you so concerned with my personal life?” he inquired, trying to avoid a threatening tone.

  “I think you’d benefit from some companionship,” Mevine explained. “I mean, I wish someone was interested in me. I don’t want to go through life alone.”

  Byron didn’t need to sense the boy’s dejection. He could see it in his eyes. Mevine’s longing ran deep. A lack of family acceptance further compounded the issue. Taking into account Mevine’s gangly appearance and absorption with his work, Byron suspected no girl had ever given him a second glance. He felt sorry for the boy. A person could do far worse than befriend Mevine.

  Shifting in his seat, Mevine shrugged. “I just figured someone should be happy,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping to the floor.

  Mustering strength he didn’t feel, Byron moved closer. He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Mevine looked up and Byron offered a smile.

  “Don’t give up yet,” he said, hoping to restore confidence in the young officer before he sank to an unreachable depth. Mevine sat up straighter and nodded. His thoughts still swirled with doubt, but desperation receded to the back of his mind.

  “Mevine!”

  The men turned toward the speaker. Officer Seheller gestured for Mevine to join him on the other side of the room. Byron’s hand dropped and Mevine rose to his feet, his movement slow and deliberate. He opened his mouth, but Byron spoke first.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Byron announced, offering a brief nod.

  Before he exited the room, Mevine’s voice echoed in his head. Thank you, sir.

  He paused in the wide doorway, but the young officer’s attention was focused on Seheller. Glancing around, he noted a difference in the atmosphere since their arrival on Tgren. Filled to capacity with equipment a
nd bodies, the room vibrated with energy. If they were as close to deciphering the alien text as Mevine boasted, those present had every reason to be excited. They were on the verge of a great discovery.

  Byron continued on his way, his footsteps reverberating down the empty corridor. Few men remained outside in the heat. No one noticed his passage as he returned to the shuttle. He contemplated a trip to the Rennather. Options for entertainment on this planet were limited and his evening was devoid of a scheduled activity. An hour or two on the grav ball court sounded more appealing than wandering the city alone or sitting in his drab quarters at the Cassan facility.

  Am I happy? Byron thought, staring at the shuttle’s lifeless controls. He shook his head to clear his mind and started the ship’s engines. Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be happy in my situation?

  Byron pushed the exchange with Mevine from his thoughts and lifted the shuttle into the sky.

  “And then I turned around, and this damned fool was gone!”

  Garnce pointed a thick finger at Byron. His tale amused the small group gathered in the Rennather’s dining hall, but it was obvious the man still carried a grudge. Athee laughed, her attention shifting to the pilot. Byron’s wicked grin indicated he had no regrets having left Garnce.

  “I wasn’t sticking around. Those Quintanaz felines were in heat.”

  Garnce scowled at Byron. “Well you didn’t need to run off and leave me standing there defenseless,” the man said with exasperation. “And you knew those plant samples we’d collected attracted them, too. Damned creatures followed me all the way back to camp, rubbing their foul stench on my legs.”

  Byron propped his elbow on the back of the chair beside him, his expression smug. “At least I didn’t spend the next two days rubbing citric salt on my body to eradicate the smell.”

  “Stuff burned like fire, too,” Garnce grumbled as he reached for his drink.

  Athee cocked an eyebrow at Byron. “You’re terrible.”

  “But at least I smelled good,” he added, leaning away as Garnce raised a threatening hand.