CassaStorm Read Free

Bassan straightened his back and sat at attention. He waited while his father pulled out a chair and collapsed into the seat. His father reached for a bowl in the middle of the table, his brows pulled together. Bassan held his breath, afraid to move.
    Scooping a large portion of ground wild ltarkin meat, his father glanced at his son. “Evening, Bassan,” he said, his voice heavy.
    “Good evening, Father,” Bassan replied, his tone clear and respectful. His father possessed zero tolerance for insolence.
    “Finish your meal,” his father said, depositing the contents of the spoon on his plate.
    Bassan dropped his chin and stared at the six remaining roots on his plate. If he’d eaten faster and crammed just one more into his mouth before his father had come home, he might’ve escaped. Now he had no choice but to choke down all of his food. Gritting his teeth, Bassan stabbed at another root and stared at the repulsive vegetable.
    I hate herren, he thought, stuffing the vegetable into his mouth.
    He listened while his parents discussed their day. Simulator drills and flight patterns held little interest for Bassan. Despite the fact his parents flew Cosbolt fighters, flying did not intrigue him, and he had even less interest in the native aircraft.
    He’d only experienced a Tgren plane once, but that was enough. Bassan had been very young at the time, but the sensation of leaving the ground frightened him. In contrast, he experienced a tug of curiosity whenever the Cosbolts flew overhead. Their movement was more graceful than a Tgren craft. On occasion, he rode in a Cassan shuttle, but that first flight always clouded his thoughts.
    As he choked down the last root, Bassan heard his father mention the Vindicarn. Aware of the significance of that race, he turned his attention to his parents’ conversation.
    “Following our declaration of war, both the Narcon and Vindicarn took up position on the edge of Cassan space,” his father said, his fork clanging against his plate. “The Nacinta has relocated to the outer reaches of the Tgren solar system. They report no activity though.”
    “Did that news settle Prefect Enteller’s nerves?” Bassan’s mother said.
    His father shook his head, causing his dark locks to drop over his forehead. “Hardly. He was more concerned there wasn’t a flagship in orbit over Tgren.”
    Those words startled Bassan. No flagship orbiting Tgren? Who would protect them?
    Bassan’s father lifted a forkful of food, his gaze shifting to his son. “We have six squadrons of Cosbolts on this base. We aren’t defenseless.”
    His hands sliding to his lap, Bassan scrunched down in his seat. He hadn’t meant for anyone to hear his thoughts.
    “Why don’t you clear your setting and go finish your studies?” his mother suggested.
    Hiding his relief, Bassan nodded and grabbed his plate and glass. Sliding out of his chair, he pushed it under the table with his knee. He shot his father a guilty look, aware he was supposed to use his hands, but neither of his parents appeared to notice his transgression. Navigating around the central counter, he placed his dishes in the cleaning unit and retreated to his room.
    The moment the door slid into place, Bassan retrieved a small canister from his desk drawer. Several bright red candies greeted him and he popped two of the sticky lumps into his mouth. The sweet taste of sugar and fruit began to ooze across his tongue. Bassan closed his eyes.
    Stupid herren roots, he thought, returning the canister to the back of the drawer.
    He spent the remainder of the evening on his studies. During the past few weeks, his class had analyzed some of the known facts regarding the alien ship buried in the mountains surrounding Ktren. While space flight didn’t intrigue him, the complexity of the aliens and their ship fascinated Bassan. Twenty years of research had revealed much about the craft, although gaps existed due to the inability of the Cassan scientists to