Free CassaStorm by Alex J. Cavanaugh

Byron, recalling those first few weeks with Athee. She had tested his patience even as she impressed him with her aptitude and skill.
    “We need more like her. We need them now, Commander Byron.”
    The man’s despondency disturbed Byron. Enteller had received a shock yesterday, but succumbing to depression wasn’t the answer. Byron had faced many battles and experienced devastating losses over the past forty years. One loss early in his career had set him back for a day, but his superior’s orders to resume flying forced Byron into action again. Now the commander of the Tgren base, he no longer possessed the luxury of apathy. Byron wondered how to snap Enteller’s despair. Ktren required a strong leader right now.
    The city’s medical facility came into view and the transport stopped by the main entrance. Grabbing the small bag at his feet, Byron exited the craft in haste, relieved to escape the negative mood permeating the main compartment. He entered the two-story building with the prefect, hoping to keep this visit short. Many tasks awaited him on base. At the moment, the driving force was an opportunity to escape Enteller.
    Byron had visited the facility in the past, but the conditions he now witnessed surpassed any previous disaster. Makeshift beds lined the hallway, stretching to the set of doors at the far end. The cries of someone farther down the hall pierced his ears. The distressed woman projected with her mind as well, and Byron shielded against the assault. Others moaned, their soft wails an uneven pitch of sounds.
    Medicinal smells threatened to burn his nose, but there was one scent no amount of chemicals could mask. The smell of death. Byron knew it all too well.
    Prefect Enteller turned to Byron, his jaw set in resignation. “Commander, there are several people I must visit, so I won’t keep you. I’ll send Officer Hurend a list of our best pilots this afternoon. Good day.”
    Without waiting for a response, Enteller moved toward the nearest bed, his gait slow and plodding. Free of the man at last, Byron sought the stairs. Only one patient expected him today, and Byron didn’t intend to keep Orellen waiting.
    Athee greeted him at the top of the stairs. She appeared tired but no worse for wear. Stepping aside as a man carrying boxes descended the stairs, Byron took the final steps two at a time to reach his mate. She grasped his arm, her grip firm through his jacket. Abandoning protocol, Byron placed his arms around her.
    “Is your uncle awake?” said Byron, releasing Athee.
    “He is,” she said, taking a step toward the closest door. “He awoke a few minutes ago.”
    “Here,” Byron said, holding up the bag. “I brought you fresh clothes.”
    “Good because this flight suit is beginning to stink. I’m going to go change right now.”
    You never smell bad , he thought, entering the room.
    Byron was grateful he’d viewed the former prefect earlier through Athee’s mind. Concealing his shock would’ve been impossible otherwise. Half of Orellen’s face was bandaged, including his left eye. What wasn’t covered sported small cuts and bruises. The man’s left arm was immobilized and wrapped, right down to his fingers. Byron was pleased to note the apparatus around Orellen’s arm was of Cassan design, as were the bandages. Athee’s uncle deserved the very best.
    Commander…
    Orellen’s mental voice was strong, which pleased Byron. Just Byron today, he thought, approaching the man’s bedside. He grasped the former prefect’s forearm and offered a reassuring smile. I understand you’ve kept my liaison officer from performing her duties today.
    I told her she didn’t have to stay.
    And how many times have you won an argument with Athee?
    The right side of Orellen’s mouth twitched. Next to never.
    I will need her eventually, but for now she is to remain at your side.
    Raising his right hand, Athee’s uncle returned Byron’s grasp. Despite his injuries, Orellen’s fingers exhibited