CassaSeries

Chapter Five-3

Rejected by family and friends and thwarted in his attempts to achieve any level of success, Byron doubted the escape of his past.

Retrieving Byron’s profile, Bassa stared at the screen, lost in thought. He’d saved the pilot for last, aware this review provided the greatest challenge. Byron would be difficult to handle this afternoon and Bassa needed to proceed with caution.

The young man arrived at his appointed time and Bassa gestured for him to take a seat. He noted Byron’s sluggish movements and solemn express and surmised Trindel had revealed his session with the senior officer as requested. Once the pilot rested in a chair, his sagging posture reflecting defeat, Bassa leaned forward.

“Your team performed well this morning,” he said, diving right into the evaluation. “The placement of your first jump was questionable, but Trindel admitted the coordinates were to give the drone a chance.”

“He set us up?” demanded Byron, straightening his back and grasping the armrests. “Sir?”

“Trindel couldn’t stomach killing another man. He tried to give the drone a fighting chance,” Bassa informed the angry pilot, holding up his hand. “Regardless of his motives, you still managed to destroy the target and avoid a direct hit. Your team was the first to complete its assignment, I might add.”

Byron slouched in his seat, and Bassa realized that fact was of small consolation now. He would receive little response from Byron on the subject of their flight. Bassa opted to turn to more pressing matters.

“I assume Trindel discussed his resignation with you?”

Eyes narrowing, Byron nodded.

“Since Trindel has agreed to complete the program, his decision will not affect the outcome of this week’s tests, nor will it alter my assessment of your skill level.”

Byron took a deep breath and nodded again. His posture remained defensive and withdrawn, and the coldness of his eyes revealed a deep displeasure that bordered on agony. Clasping his hands together, Bassa selected his next words with care.

“This exercise eliminates more men than any other test,” he said, watching Byron’s reaction. “I lost two teams and a navigator today. It’s a tough test, but I need to know if each man possesses the ability to destroy an enemy without hesitation. It’s better to eliminate them now than to place those teams in the fleet where their inability to act endangers the lives of others.”

Byron’s gaze dropped while Bassa spoke. The young pilot appeared ready to shut down mentally as well. Leaning on his desk, Bassa made one last attempt to reach Byron.

“I do not want to lose three complete teams today,” he stated with conviction.

His voice sounded loud in the room’s silence, but his words caught Byron’s attention. The young man raised his head and met Bassa’s gaze. The senior officer noted a spark of determination in his steel blue eyes.

“I refuse to quit now, sir,” said Byron.

Bassa nodded. “Then you and Trindel will complete your training as originally planned. If you are successful, you’ll receive a new navigator when a suitable match becomes available.”

Byron opened his mouth to speak and Bassa caught a hint of desperation in his thoughts. The young man’s brows came together and he at once shielded his mind. Bassa frowned, perplexed by Byron’s refusal to divulge his thoughts or appear vulnerable. Gazing at the pilot, Bassa decided he wanted to help the young man. If he ever hoped to reach the person trapped behind that protective shield, Bassa needed to do so now.

Leaning back in his chair, he assumed a receptive pose, allowing his hands to drop to his lap. Byron watched with apparent curiosity, but did not speak. Bassa selected his next words with care.

“I suggest,” he began in a non-threatening voice, “that you take advantage of this opportunity to speak candidly.”

Byron eyed his superior with skepticism. Shifting in his seat, he leaned on the armrests.

“Sir, how long will I have to wait for a new navigator?” he said, the words tumbling from his lips.

“The process could take a month or more,” said Bassa. “You will require a navigator of exceptional skill.”

“Will I have to go through training again, sir?”

“A minimum of twenty hours in the cockpit is required before a team is certified, sometimes more if warranted,” he conceded. “Occasionally this is done on location, but more often than not, a new team trains together at a facility on Cassa.”

Byron’s gaze dropped to the floor. For a brief moment, his dejection penetrated his mental shields.

“Then it will be months before I join the fleet,” he murmured.

His guard dropped even further, and Bassa caught a deep fear of failure and rejection in Byron. The young man’s desperate need for accomplishment and acceptance rang clear in his mind. Bassa’s own emotions stirred at the memory of another young pilot’s desire for confirmation of his worth. Before his thoughts revealed themselves, he cleared his mind.

“If you successfully complete your training,” Bassa said with authority, causing Byron to meet his gaze. “Not only will I give you the highest recommendation possible, but I promise I will do everything in my power to locate a quality navigator and assignment for you.”

Byron’s eyes widened and he sat up straight in his seat. “Really, sir?”

“If you complete your training to my satisfaction,” the senior officer reminded him.

“Yes, sir, that’s a promise!”

Bassa had to suppress a smile. The young man’s spirit had returned with a vengeance.

“Then I suggest you settle your differences with your current navigator and concentrate on giving your best performance.”

“Yes, sir,” said Byron.

“Good! You are dismissed,” said Bassa, leaning forward in his chair.

“Yes, sir!” the young man said, rising to his feet. “And thank you, sir.”

Byron retreated from his office with a bounce to his step. When the doors closed, Bassa chuckled at the young man’s reaction before turning to his computer screen. He added final notes to the pilot’s file, pleased with their session. As he completed his task, his eyes strayed to the photo on his desk.

A chime signified a visitor. Leaning away from his computer, Bassa gave permission to enter. Officer Rellen sauntered into the room, his customary smile in place.

“Finished with the trainees?” he said.

“Yes, the last session just ended,” Bassa replied, c*****g his head. “Did you speak to Security Officer Solate before his departure?”

Rellen nodded and dropped into the chair vacated by Byron. “His team thanked us again. They enjoyed the opportunity to play prisoners.”

Bassa chuckled at his instructor’s observation. “I think they enjoy the bonus in pay as much as the charade.”

“If the trainees only knew they were shooting down empty drones…”

“If they knew, the test would not be effective.”

Rellen nodded in agreement. “Any surprises this afternoon?” he said, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“No one else was eliminated. 715T’s navigator will remain long enough to ensure his pilot completes the course.”

“You intend to pass Byron, then?”

Noting the skepticism in Rellen’s voice, Bassa fixed him with an authoritative stare. “If he successfully completes the final sessions, yes, I do.”

Rellen did not appear threatened by Bassa’s tone, but he did offer a polite nod of acceptance.

“The fleet will have a difficult time locating a suitable navigator for that young buck,” he said, shaking his head. “He’ll require a man with experience, not to mention a strong will. I don’t envy the navigator who aligns himself with Byron.”

Sliding back his chair, Bassa rose to his feet. “A suitable replacement will be located.”

Rellen leapt from his seat. “Well, that is not our concern. If you’re ready to dine?”

“I am.”

He reached for his computer and hesitated before clearing the screen. Byron’s dilemma promised to occupy his thoughts for the remainder of the evening. Rellen’s assessment rang true, though. The fleet would be hard-pressed to match Byron with a navigator of equal skill and ability. Those with experience would balk at an alliance with a rookie pilot, and those who might be willing would lack the skill and fortitude to keep the young man in line. And that worried Bassa.

He won’t stand a chance in the fleet, he thought as the screen’s image vanished.