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also develop an overactive tongue during their decent to the planet’s surface.
    You are not to interrupt me in any manner while flying, understood?
    Yes, sir, Mevine replied, his hands dropping into his lap as he sat at attention. The young man’s emotions ceased to broadcast, plunging the cockpit into blessed silence.
    The shuttle loaded and secure, Byron commenced ignition. Engines humming on low power, Byron guided the shuttle across the hanger and through the first set of doors. There was a moment’s pause as the atmosphere within the compartment adjusted. The second set of doors opened, revealing the full length of the landing bay. The moment he had clearance, Byron accelerated. Engines roaring, the shuttle shot out into the blackness of space.
    As instructed, Mevine remained silent. However, his exuberance escaped the confines of his mental shields. Within moments, his excitement filled the cockpit. Annoyance flitted through Byron’s mind, but was squelched by an unexpected memory. His first navigator had exhibited a similar lack of inhibition, allowing his emotions to bubble forth like a fountain. Thoughts of Trindel cheered Byron, and he allowed Mevine to enjoy the ride in full, reckless abandon.
    Jumping into the planet’s atmosphere, Byron led the way toward their destination. Cloud cover obscured the view, but he didn’t require visual confirmation of their location. Guiding the ship in lower, he lined up their approach. The clouds began to disperse and the rusty hues of mountain desert came into view. Byron cleared a plateau and descended into a wide valley.
    Mevine gasped. This time, Byron shared his sentiment. He’d expected rock and sand strewn across the desert floor and an inhospitable terrain. To his surprise, the valley boasted an array of vegetation. The ground below them was splashed with green, blue, and yellow plant life, concentrated around a river that snaked through the valley. At once Byron’s opinion of Tgren raised a few notches, although he refused to share his excitement over the impressive landscape. He was here to work, not enjoy the scenery.
    The small city resided on the far side of the open valley and to the right of the river. The plant life may have caught him by surprise, but the Tgren city’s appearance was as expected. Short, squat buildings of white stone clustered together in an uneven pattern. From the air, it appeared as if a giant, complex maze was under construction. Byron hoped the city’s amenities compensated for what it lacked in appearance. Of course, he could always spend his nights in the shuttle if the Tgren culture proved too primitive.
    Inching the shuttle closer to the ground, he aimed for the flat stretch that was the designated runway. Reducing speed to a near hover, Byron landed the ship on the mark indicated by the coordinates. As he powered down the engines, his eyes were drawn to a group waiting outside the nearest hanger. Three men and two women stood at attention, their gaze upon the shuttles. Their burnt umber-colored uniforms fluttered lightly in the breeze. Another man emerged from the hanger, stepping out into the bright sun. Byron at once recognized a fellow Cassan. The man’s light skin and brown hair were in sharp contrast with the others, not to mention the deep blue of his military attire marking him as an outsider. While his own skin was pale, Byron’s jet-black hair would help him to blend with the natives.
    Maybe after a week in the sun, I’ll tan enough to pass for a Tgren, he thought.
    Mevine began fumbling with his harness. Byron was still shutting down systems when the scientist bolted into the main compartment of the shuttle, an urgency to disembark emanating from his thoughts. Byron leapt from his seat, determined to reach the hatch before his overeager passenger. He didn’t want Mevine to press the wrong button and cause the door to jam.
    Byron waited until the shuttle was clear of passengers before exiting the craft. The dry