by Laura Kaighn
And no one knew the secret of the Vesar Sky Cliffs. Survival depended upon one’s total attentiveness, the careful placement of fingertips and toes. Yet skill and determination were not enough; Brahmanii Sule’s blessing was also required. How had Dorinda known to face away from the wind? Could she have had another vision? Could it have been a true premonition? If so, perhaps the Vwafar´ee was possible.
Dorinda’s strength and physical limitations were still human, however. Vesarius knew she would still hesitate. She’d make a mistake; not hear a warning, not spy a danger, not smell the musk of an approaching predator cat. Vesarius was unsure he could protect himself and her also. If his eyes strayed from the trail, he would falter. Then Dorinda would die without his guidance.
Yet, Dorinda was still willing. She loved him that much? Perhaps Vesarius had been a fool to lack faith in her abilities. Perhaps she could be made strong enough. The potential was there, but was there enough time?
Vesarius shook away the conflicting thoughts and checked his chrono. Ten minutes. Mentally Vesarius recalled his Kin. There was a hunt, tracks they must follow. Eagerly, Tundra replied that he was coming from the Pompeii’s pool, wet fur and all. Vesarius sighed. Use the drier unit, Tundra. There was no honor in leaving soaking paw prints throughout the ship. It was all a breeding ground for rust.
When Tundra arrived to help his Bondmate, Vesarius nodded and imaged a clear picture of Dorinda’s face. “Track,” he commanded. Tundra huffed affirmation and led the Vesar down the hall to the lift. When they’d climbed in, Vesarius palmed the button for level three. He had told Dorinda not to hide in her quarters, yet she may have stopped there for something or to throw them off the trail. Tundra knew well the scent of several of the crew. Dorinda’s trail led them directly to her cabin door. Vesarius smirked. His sensitive Vesar nose picked up the faint odor of soap. Dorinda had taken a quick shower to cover her scent.
Waving his Kinpanion forward, Vesarius followed the soap trail to a door several cabins down from her own. There Tundra stopped. Vesarius realized whose cabin it was. It had once belonged to Jonathan Torch, Noah’s former Bondmate. It was the current residence of a rather young and aspiring SAR apprentice named Tlant. Had Dorinda hidden inside with her Tloni friend, or had she simply intended a distraction?
Vesarius pressed the door chime with a single mahogany digit. Almost immediately Tlant answered. “Commander, you are looking for Jade?” the tawny-furred alien inquired. His violet eyes blinked, tongue coursing across whiskered lips.
“Yes. She stopped here a few minutes ago,” Vesarius affirmed. He checked his Kin. “Tundra?” The Alaskan malamute agreed with an affirmative chuff. “Tundra says she is here.”
“No, Commander,” came the smiling Tloni’s reply. “She was here. This still is.” The doglike sentient held a tube of body wash in his four-fingered, stubby paw. “She is very good. I’m sorry I can’t tell you her plans, but she swore me to secrecy.”
Smirking admirably, Vesarius agreed, “Understandable, young Tloni. Thank you.” Nodding his farewell, Vesarius considered his next course of action. He must return to Dorinda’s cabin to pick up the scent again from there.
After nearly an hour of searching, however, the two trackers had collected only Dorinda’s soap, two sweaters, her pillow, and the woman’s favorite pair of cherished but worn blue jeans. The items had either been left with friends, or Vesarius had discovered them hanging or folded into odd corners. How had Dorinda found time to stash all of these objects and avoid him at the same time? Perhaps she had not been alone, for the next person he found, with Tundra’s helpful nose, was the ship’s engineer, Jonas Botrocelli. The Italian inventor had quickly rigged a pair of plasti-steel rods with Dorinda’s hiking boots and was tromping a false trail all around the lower decks.
The engineer laughed at Vesarius’ perplexed expression when the warrior and malamute caught up to him outside the transport bay. “This was her idea,” he explained. “Resourceful lady, your Dorinda.”
Vesarius frowned. Why had Jonas worded it that way? “And you cannot share the secret of where she is.”
“Only that she’s checked in with Coty. The delegates’ shuttle arrives twenty minutes earlier than scheduled.” Jonas checked his own wrist chrono. “That gives you less than twenty-five minutes to find her.”
“Yes,” Vesarius sighed. “She has impressed me so far.” He made a quick decision. “If you are down here, then she is somewhere else on the ship. I will make the most of what time I have left.” With a nod he spun on his heels and strode quickly back toward the lifts.
* * *
Dorinda listened intently as Vesarius’ footfalls faded. Then there was a metallic ding against the access door as Jonas tapped it with his makeshift legs. She heard the engineer whisper, “He’s gone, Jade.” Then Jonas poked the release sequence to her hiding place. When the panel opened, Botrocelli stood back to allow her exit. “You might just triumph this time.” Dorinda slipped from the storage locker, checking the corridor. “Not many have beaten him, certainly none as clever as you.”
With a sincere smile, Dorinda patted the middle-aged man on the arm. “Thanks for the vote of confidence and for letting me borrow the closet. Sarius never said I couldn’t have help.”
When she turned to leave, Jonas stopped her with a question. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
Freezing in indecision, Dorinda admitted, “More than many could understand, yes.”
Leaning his fake feet against the bulkhead, Jonas offered his opinion. “I’ve known Vesarius as long as Coty. He’s bright and he’s curious. But he’s also been alone here on the Pompeii. You’ve changed that, Jade. It’s a good thing.” Then the Italian smiled broadly. “Keeps him out of my hair.”
Beaming, Dorinda bowed at the engineer. “Thank you, Master Jonas.” Vesarius had called the engineer by that title. It was a term of respect and endearment. Jonas was the Vesar’s mentor in mechanics as Sam Waters was his teacher in history.
Dorinda headed off down the hall. The observation lounge was just around the corner from the transport bay – a meeting place for shuttle arrivals, a room in which to unwind, to wait for your luggage to be unloaded, a quiet place. But the observation lounge also sported foldout walls and could accommodate a full-blown party, complete with a thirty meter long plastiglass portal with its vivid view of the galaxy.
These stars were unfamiliar, Dorinda realized as she stood before that horizontal window. But they were as beautiful a backdrop for a party as one could get. Gazing around at the expandable room with its benches, tables, and soft niches of chairs, Dorinda pondered a certain party. Perhaps a bonding reception could be held here. She smiled hopefully. Vesarius would be the bright spot of the gathering, more brilliant to her than any twinkling sun.
Sighing in uncertain anticipation, Dorinda trudged over to a cushioned chair. In a shadowy corner of the darkened, empty room she plopped down. Thoughts drifting with the multitude of starlight, she was soon engrossed in her inner world of possibilities.
A moment later, something snapped her from her daydreams: an announcement over the ship-wide public address system. “Alliance diplomatic shuttle arriving. Cmdr. Tankawankanyi, report to the transport bay.” It was Moxland Darby’s voice from the bridge. “Delegation shuttle arriving. Cmdr. Tankawankanyi, please report to the transport bay.”
So, the peace emissaries were even earlier than scheduled. Coty had once told her Tloni were a fastidious species when it came to keeping appointments, obsessed with the avoidance of waste. Dorinda harrumphed. The Tloni would have been excellent spokespeople for Earth’s recycling campaign.
A second later, Dorinda smiled. She had won! Vesarius hadn’t found her. In reality, it had been a defaulted win. Vesarius’ time had run out prematurely.
Jumping from her padded chair, Dorinda sauntered to the lounge door and peeked out. Quickly she ducked back in, her breath caught in a gasp of delightful surprise. Vesarius was just down the hall walking
away from her with Tundra at his side. Had they stopped here at the door just as the announcement called him away? Had she been just seconds from discovery? With a concealed giggle, Dorinda vowed to ask her friend later. Meanwhile, she would follow the Vesar to the transport bay – curious to see who it was the Alliance had chosen to discuss peace with the Orthops.
A slow smile widened Michael Coty’s mouth when he noticed her approach from around the corner. The captain stood outside the sealed transport bay hatch with his complement of officers save one.
“Where’s Vesarius?” Dorinda asked when she’d padded up beside her friend.
With a jerk of his dark head sideways, Coty answered, “Inside the anteroom. The ambassador’s not much for crowded greetings. So you won, huh? Vesarius never found you.”
“I think he was about to when Moxland’s announcement came. I was in the observation lounge.”
With a slow nod Coty added, “Good place. You’ll have to give me the details of the chase later. Tundra and he have the best nose on the ship.”
Dorinda rolled onto her toes, her hands clasped behind her in impish satisfaction. “I knew that. That’s why I sent their noses on a wild duck hunt.”
“Duck hunt?”
Shrugging Dorinda quipped, “Goose chase. But that’s what Vesarius called it once. At the time, I wasn’t sure if he was -”
“Docking complete,” came the voice of the Tloni transport controller, Brend. The stout, nimble-pawed alien was always the one on duty when delicate matters of diplomacy were at stake. Brend’s calm, peaceful voice was the first any traveler encountered when docking with the Pompeii.
A moment later, the twin doors of the bay hummed open into the sealed and mostly transparent anteroom. As Coty’s entourage followed him inside, Dorinda caught sight of Vesarius’ stiff back striding into the now pressurized and oxygenated bay beyond. His calculated, rigid steps brought him to a sleek Alliance transport whose engine nacelles were already receding into their belly furrows. To Dorinda’s scrutinizing eyes, her Vesar companion seemed apprehensive. Was there hesitancy in his approach to both the squatting transport and the mission ahead?
As Vesarius and Tundra stood just steps from the vessel, its hatch yawned wide. A tall figure took up the space. Dorinda gasped her realization as Vesarius squared his shoulders and saluted the man with a heart pounding fist. Another Vesar!
“Greetings, Vesarius,” Cmdr. Tankawankanyi addressed the mahogany man. “Honors to you for your role in the upcoming peace negotiations.” Even across the distance and through the anteroom speakers, Dorinda could sense the tautness in her friend’s salutation. She watched from Coty’s shoulder as Vesarius maintained his straight-backed stance.
Then Dorinda’s attention shifted to the new arrival. With an almost gross fascination, Dorinda studied the older Vesar’s features and compared. The ambassador stepped from his transport, his dark vermillion cape of office draped over one muscular shoulder. The warrior’s ruddy arms were solid and bulging with power. A dark, colorful tattoo adorned one massive bicep. Another painted his brawny neck. He had not returned the honorary salute.
“Commander, I was told we would be meeting again,” the taller Vesar rumbled. The ambassador’s raven hair was streaked with silver. Yet there was no indication, under the man’s weathered skin, that he was any meeker than the younger warrior he stood before. In fact, Dorinda had the sudden impression that Vesarius had flinched within the older man’s shadow. “How unfortunate there was no better candidate to escort us to Orthop. The Alliance did insist upon your presence.”
Dorinda’s eyes narrowed. What was the reasoning behind this powerful Vesar’s critical words? Was Vesarius’ isolation and former dishonor so great that this man would not even address her friend by his warrior title? The ambassador had simply acknowledged him as ‘Commander’. She watched Vesarius stiffen his shoulders but keep silent.
Turning back to his transport, the ambassador called, “Vwactch’ee!” Three more warriors stepped through the hatch. Four Vesar were to be the Alliance delegation to Orthop? Dorinda had just assumed the complement would be Tloni. From what she knew of the furry bipedal race, they were considered the shrewd but tranquil peacekeepers of the Alliance. Both Vesar and humans alike saw the Tloni as the most reasonable of the three Alliance species. Now a quartet of unpredictable and – from what she’d already seen of the ambassador – ill-tempered delegates had been sent to represent the Galactic Alliance. Then Dorinda realized the logic.
Vesarius had said it before: In many ways, the Orthops were also a warrior race. The Vesar had forged their peace treaty with the Tloni despite their urgent need to overcome former transgressions and heal hardships. Who better to formulate the terms of this new treaty but a group of fellow warriors?
As the delegation approached the anteroom, Dorinda found herself comparing again. The ambassador was taller than Vesarius by nearly six inches. A seven foot Vesar! But he was also broad, muscular, and adorned with Vesar symbols stitched to his cloak. The man’s silver-streaked hair was pulled back into a bobbed ponytail. Was it cropped from actual given honors, or was the shortness simply a symbol of his power?
The ambassador’s face was a chiseled stone sculpture with large, obsidian stones that seemed the universal hue of Vesar eyes. His squared forehead and jaw gave the ambassador a severe countenance, an extremely solemn appearance for one who was a diplomat.
The other three delegates were around Vesarius’ height, one even a half foot shorter. But all were virile examples of Vesar strength. The one big difference Dorinda noticed was their clothing. All four arrivals wore leather trousers and sleeveless tunics as did Vesarius, but these were dyed various brilliant colors with capes to match: the ambassador’s dark vermillion, his aides’ cobalt, magenta, and dandelion-orange. The ambassador’s cloak dropped to his knees and was attached by way of a golden cord around his neck. Their concerted faces – various shades of rich mahogany – all displayed the same expression of displeasure at the sight of the Pompeii’s first officer.
The Vesar diplomats followed the commander’s and Tundra’s lead to the anteroom where Coty moved to receive them. Saluting, the captain announced, “Welcome to the Pompeii, Ambassador Tolianksalya. I’m Capt. Michael Coty, and these are my officers.” Coty waved his hand to indicate each. “Historian, Dr. Sam Waters; Medical Chief, Yolonda Sheradon; Engineer, Jonas Botrocelli; Lt. Cmdr. Zaneta Talyabo; and my Chief of Communications, Moxland Darby.”
Dorinda sank into the shadow behind Coty. She was not supposed to be present; diplomatic repercussions might occur if she were discovered. Besides, Tolianksalya didn’t seem the kind, gentle soul she knew Vesarius to be. Dorinda didn’t wish to spur this man’s wrath. She noticed, though, how Vesarius’ eyes were downcast as if in the presence of royalty ... or divinity. Was Tolianksalya that important?
With stern attention, the ambassador nodded to each of Coty’s officers at their introduction. He then took Moxland’s hand in his to kiss her palm. “We are grateful, Ms. Darby. Because of your diligence, the Orthops will listen and understand what the Alliance has to offer.” Tolianksalya released his grip and straightened to confront Coty. “Captain, my staff. Saliaktayla, Domenazreli, and Vrelomakanyo.”
Coty nodded to each in turn then squared his shoulders and again saluted sharply. “Vesariuses all. Welcome.” Dorinda saw the twitch of approval from the ambassador’s wide, dark lips. The half-smile inverted, though, when Tolianksalya again dropped his eyes upon the Pompeii’s resident Vesar.
“Commander, we require a room. We must discuss many things.”
With a stiff nod, Vesarius waved the ambassador toward the outer door, never meeting the older man’s eyes. “There is an observation lounge just down the corridor. I will have refreshments brought there for you. If you will follow me.” The ambassador nodded, and he and his entourage were led away from the reception crew, leaving Dorinda with a most perplexing question.
“Michael, what’s going on?” she whis
pered into his ear as his crewmembers began to disperse. “Why are they being so cold to Vesarius?”
Coty nodded his good-bye to Jonas, then turned to her with a disapproving frown and silencing palm. “Sarius isn’t a Vesar citizen anymore,” he reminded quietly. “Not a warrior. Yet he’s to be liaison to the Orthops, their go-between.”
“Does this mean all Vesar would treat him like this? Like some kind of slave? Or inferior underling?”
Taking Dorinda’s arm, Michael sighed and explained. “The Vesar have a term for it. They may even call him by that name at times. It’s hard to pronounce.” Coty closed his eyes to concentrate. “A Grilcmzáe? Anyway, I think it means ‘changeling’, or ‘outcast’.” Coty must have realized her skepticism by her creased brow and deep frown, for he squeezed her arm in warning. “Stay out of it, Dorinda.” When she began to object, the captain added more sternly, “This is Vesar business, and it has no part in this mission. It’s not our concern. Is that clear?”
“You’re not going to correct it?”
With a swift shake Coty assured, “Only Vesarius can do that. He’ll be an outcast until then, so don’t try to defend him.” Coty squeezed her arm again making her wince. “If you step in where you’re not welcome, you’re liable to get yourself killed. Understood? It’s Vesar business.”
“All right, Michael. I understand,” Dorinda conceded with slumping shoulders. She rubbed her arm at his release and wondered how severely Sarius would be treated if his honor had not at least been returned.
“Now I’ve got to get back to the bridge. They’ll no doubt schedule a meeting with the senior staff by the end of the day.” His jasper eyes were again drilling into hers. “I know I don’t need to tell you to steer clear of the Vesar delegates, do I? Curiosity would be a dangerous trait right now.”
