CassaStorm by Alex J. Cavanaugh Read Free Book Online Page A

from the city closest to Ktren. The man was several years younger than the others and the most open minded of the group. Byron had often wished he dealt with Ubarce rather than the obstinate Enteller.
    The young prefect leaned forward. “What must we do to protect Tgren?”
    Feeling calmer, Byron uncrossed his arms and reached for his computer tablet. “The Cassan High Command wishes to know if you are joining the alliance. If so, they are willing to bargain not only for the protection of Tgren but the training of your pilots in Cassan ships.”
    “Our pilots in your space ships?” someone exclaimed with a bark of laughter.
    Prefect Ubarce turned toward the offender. “It wouldn’t be the first time!” he said, pointing at Athee. “We haven’t ventured into space yet, but our pilots and aircraft have made great strides over the past twenty years. With the proper training, our men could learn.”
    “Would there be enough time?” a man to Byron’s left said, his voice as thin and weedy as his body.
    “Proper training requires years,” Byron admitted, “but we could have your best pilots ready to go within a month or two.”
    “Well, unless I’ve misinterpreted the situation,” began Anchore, “we don’t have a month. That makes your offer meaningless.”
    Grinding his teeth, Byron stared hard at the old prefect. To his right, his squadron commander shifted in his seat. His mate’s frustrations reverberated in his head. They weren’t getting anywhere.
    “Unless anyone has something to add, I think it’s time we took a vote,” said Enteller, rising to his feet. “All those in favor of supporting the Cassans with occupation of Tgren and the continued harvest of letrellium but not declaring open war on their enemies, give your consent with a show of hands.”
    Nearly every hand went up. Perspiration formed on his skin as Byron’s anger began to boil. They were all ignorant fools.
    “All those opposed?”
    It was a small consolation that three hands shot into the air, including Prefect Ubarce’s. Twenty-two to three meant no formal declaration of war, though. It also confirmed that the Tgrens were truly oblivious to the danger their planet faced.
    “Commander Byron,” said Prefect Enteller, his lips revealing a smug satisfaction with the outcome, “please inform your High Command of our decision. We will not actively take part in this war.”
    Too angry to speak, Byron nodded. Snatching his computer tablet from the table, he rose to his feet and shoved aside his chair. Without waiting for his squadron commander or Athee, he strode from the counsel room. He glanced at Prefect Ubarce in passing and noted the man’s distraught expression.
    Your people will regret this path, he thought in a private message to the prefect.
    He didn’t wait for an answer. His boots striking the stone surface with force, Byron exited the council chambers. He wanted to place distance between himself and the idiots that governed this world.
    Sir, they’re making a mistake , thought Hurend. His senior squadron commander caught up to Byron just outside the room. Despite our treaty with the Tgrens and the supply of letrellium, High Command still might decide to remove us.
    The prefects are too caught up in their own world to comprehend the dangers beyond this planet , thought Byron, casting a disgusted look at Hurend.
    High Command will not like their answer.
    I’m not going to enjoy sending it either.
    Athee fell in step beside Byron. We might be able to motivate Prefect Ubarce and a couple of the others to change their minds, she thought.
    They had reached the outer doors and Byron paused. Lips pressed together, he nodded at her. Remain here and see what you can accomplish. Impart on Ubarce and the others the gravity of the situation. It’s in their best interests to formally side with our alliance.
    Athee grasped his arm, her thin fingers pressing hard on his muscles. Would they really remove everyone from the