CassaFire Read Free

that’s when Byron felt most alive.
    He returned to the Rennather, tired and ready for a decent meal. Voices reached his ears even before Byron entered the dining hall. He scanned its occupants before retrieving a tray of food. Most of the short tables were occupied. Byron spied an empty seat beside Garnce, the ship’s other small craft pilot. The man’s gruff nature matched his grizzled appearance, and his apathetic attitude surfaced at every opportunity. Byron had grown used to the abrasive words that often tumbled from his lips. It was the man’s lack of ambition that really annoyed Byron, but he could do worse this evening than Garnce’s company.
    The pilot noticed his approach, offering a curt nod. Byron glanced at the other occupants as he circled the table. He realized the young man from the shuttle occupied the spot across from his empty seat. The lad met his gaze before Byron could look away. Straightening his back, the boy sat at attention. Unable to retreat without raising suspicion or implying offense, Byron set his tray on the table.
    “ You take the Darten out for a spin?” Garnce asked, still gnawing on a fruit core.
    “ Thought I’d take advantage of the down time,” said Byron, sliding into his chair.
    Their exchange caught the attention of the scientist. “You fly a Darten too, sir?” he said, almost dropping the food on his fork.
    Byron reached for his drink. “I have for twenty years.”
    “ But before that you flew Cosbolts, correct?”
    “ Just one,” he answered, hoping his casual reply would squash further questions. Byron just wanted some food in his empty stomach.
    Fortunately, Garnce intervened. “Mevine here was telling us about the new discovery on Tgren,” he said, gesturing to the young man.
    The boy’s face grew radiant. He grinned with obvious enthusiasm, which echoed from his unshielded thoughts. Byron took advantage of the distraction. He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and gestured for the science officer to elaborate.
    “ A recent excavation revealed an ancient underground facility,” Mevine explained, his voice quivering with excitement. “Four days ago, a team gained access to the interior and found what they believe is the control room. The technology is so advanced, it’s beyond anything we’ve previously discovered. Why, the possibilities of its application are endless!”
    The young man’s voice had risen as he spoke, accompanied by frantic hand gestures. The opportunity to dissect alien technology seemed to excite Mevine, but experience had taught Byron caution and a healthy respect for the unknown. He glanced at Garnce, who shrugged with indifference.
    “ Sounds dangerous to me,” the pilot replied, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
    “ Not necessarily,” protested Mevine.
    “ What do they know about it?” asked Byron. Despite Garnce’s apathy, he was curious. A little danger sounded appealing, especially after months of routine assignments.
    Mevine pulled his dark brows together, his shoulders sagging. “Very little at the moment. They’ve been unable to translate the language. Of course, no one stationed on Tgren specializes in alien script. I’m hoping to receive an upload from the team before we break orbit, so I can get a head start.”
    Byron regarded Mevine with surprise. “You’re a linguist expert?”
    “ Yes sir, I’m trained in alien dialect, print, and code.”
    Garnce offered a skeptical guffaw. “You’re rather young for deep space exploration,” he observed, frowning as he reached for his glass.
    “ I’m twenty-three,” Mevine announced, straightening his back and dropping his hands to his lap. “And I completed training at the top of my class.” Indignation flashed through his thoughts before the lad abruptly shielded his mind.
    “ What he means is we don’t see many men your age out here on the edge of space,” Byron offered in an attempt to sooth Mevine’s agitation. “You must be damned good to