by Laura Kaighn
Dorinda gasped at the horror. She swiped her expanding eyes to erase the ghastly image and sank to the Pompeii’s gym floor. Someone stomped to steady her with a rock-solid hand.
“Jade, what happened?”
“I saw death,” she moaned. Dorinda wiped away tears and tried to focus on the concerned face before her. “Rosh. Roshana. I’ve got to tell the ambassador. It’s a trap. It’s all a trap!”
“You had another vision,” Roshana Zlenko confirmed as she pulled the smaller woman to her feet. “About the mission.”
“Yes, the Orthops ... They were ... Damn, it’s gone again.” Her breath still jerky and full of peril, Dorinda huffed her frustration. “Excuse me.” She rushed from the gym, still barefoot and clad in her white judogi. Without even requesting entry, Dorinda trotted into the observation lounge.
“Ambassador ...” The room was empty. Now what? Coty on the bridge. Tramping to the wall, Dorinda smacked the intercom button. “Bridge, this is Jade,” she panted. “Where’s the captain?”
“Transport bay. The ambassadorial shuttle’s prepping to disembark,” was Moxland’s reply.
“Damn.” Punching off the intercom, Dorinda sprinted into the corridor and toward the bay. Her auburn hair twisted in the self-induced wind.
She slid to a stop when the double doors to the anteroom refused to open at her approach. “Damn it. They can’t leave. Michael!” Dorinda pounded both fists against the unrelenting barrier. She froze when steel hands grasped her shoulders from behind. His body emanated a musky heat.
“Green Eyes. What is wrong?”
Spinning in his grip, Dorinda fell against Vesarius in a desperate hug. “I thought you’d left without me,” she sobbed into his chest.
“We are testing the transport for a technical glitch. Coty is in the anteroom monitoring the decompression.” Vesarius pulled her away to gaze into eyes crystallized with fear. “I would not have left without you.” Then he frowned when Dorinda shook her head in gasping negation. “What frightens you so?”
“A vision. Sarius, it’s a trap. They’re going to kill the ambassador. I saw it.”
“You were meditating?”
“No. Tai Chi. In the gym. Michael said I should practice my skill any time, even without my eyes closed,” Dorinda panted. She let go of the Vesar’s arms. “Where’s the ambassador? I need to tell him.”
“No,” Vesarius countered with reluctance. “He would not believe you. His arrogance would refuse your story. He would think you too unstable to come with us.” Squaring his shoulders, Vesarius assured, “I will protect the ambassador if the need arises.”
“Against twenty Orthops? Vesarius, this is all a trap. We were surrounded.”
“Your visions have yet to be proven, Dorinda,” Vesarius argued. “I cannot act upon them until you can calm your emotions and use this gift wisely.”
“You think I’m being irrational?” Dorinda huffed and wiped her brow angrily. “I saw it in perfect detail. I was there.”
Vesarius smiled sympathetically. “If you wish to alert Coty, do so. He will make sure security measures are taken.”
“But -”
“It is all we can do,” he countered with a tilted brow. “This is to be a peace mission. Trust must be built first, and it cannot be denied because of an unreliable vision on your part.”
“You don’t think I saw the truth?”
“I believe you saw something which could be truth. We must make it otherwise if the Alliance is to be rid of the fear.”
“Fear like I’m showing now, perhaps out of ignorance.”
“Perhaps,” Vesarius quipped with the hint of a smile. “You are a remarkable woman, Dorinda. Sensitive to others’ needs. Perhaps your concern is simply getting the better of you.”
“You sound like Lonnie,” Dorinda contested with a comic sigh. Then, feeling suddenly embarrassed, she reconsidered. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll tell Michael what I remember and leave it up to him. We should prepare, just in case.”
“That would be wise,” Vesarius agreed. “My crossbow is already in my pack.”
Crossbow. A flickering image and sense of dread made Dorinda’s skin prickle. “I’ll go get changed.” She backed away from him, conscious of her dress and bare feet. “When do we leave?”
“In forty-nine minutes.”
“Do I meet you here?”
With a nod, Vesarius’ obsidian eyes were on her as she backed away further, her heels padding the deck. “Dress for warm but windy weather.”
“All right. I’ll bring my pistol too.” Spinning about, she thought of the plasma pistol Michael Coty had gifted her. The captain had taught her how to use it, helped her improve her aim. Dorinda was against violence, against guns to the core. But the Orthops had not yet proven their humanity. And Dorinda would do what every woman would to protect her family.
* * *
Watching her go, Vesarius conceded; Dorinda’s worries were warranted. He recalled his second trip into the past through the Orthop time Arch. The warrior had recently traveled a thousand years back to the planet Mytok and its alien civilization. The dying Mytoki had made the foolish mistake of allowing their time travel to contaminate their own genes, leading to a deadly plague. By their negligence, they had also allowed their descendant Orthops to recreate the danger of a new time machine. Why not yet another error?
The Mytoki high chancellor had advised Vesarius; they would not change the time stream, only append it. They would send the Vesar forward into his own present, but would not return Dorinda to hers. To the Mytoki, it seemed, Dorinda’s destiny had already been written into Vesarius’ timeline. “To us, you are both future beings,” the ancient high chancellor had reasoned.
The original time Arch and its overwhelming power had brought on the demise of the Mytoki, that millennium ago. No further meddling with time would be sanctioned. The Mytoki leader drone, himself, had been afflicted, dying. Yet he had refused to take any steps which would have saved him and his people. They would only agree to help Vesarius’ Alliance, his time, and the Mytoki’s progeny: the Orthops.
“They will learn to respect us more, worship us less,” the high chancellor of Mytok had assured him. The Mytoki had promised to send forward a new law book. But what if there hadn’t been time to remedy that issue? What if the aliens had all died before fulfilling their promise?
Their descendants, the Orthops, still needed to expand their boundaries past their resource-depleted homeworld. If the Mytoki had not followed through with their assurances, the Orthops he and the Alliance delegates were to meet would be the same desperate aliens Vesarius had left behind when he had jumped through the Orthop time machine to Mytok that millennium past. These Orthops would still be intent upon conquest and death.
If true, then Dorinda’s vision of an ambush could be feasible.
But what would be the Orthops’ motives – the advantages – behind the slaughter of the Alliance delegates, as Dorinda had foreseen? In retaliation, the Alliance would immediately declare war, an all-out attack on any and all Orthop outposts.
Vesarius wondered. What might be the final outcome of such a deadly venture? Surely the Alliance, with its three sentient species, was more powerful than the Orthops alone, despite the depletion of starships due to his own people’s threat a quarter century before. Though the Alliance was still recovering from the Colonial Wars, its strength now lay in numbers and treaties.
Tundra interrupted Vesarius’ troubled thoughts with a question. Were Noah and he to be a part of the landing? Grateful for the distraction and the offer, Vesarius affirmed. An extra set of keen eyes and Noah’s slinky swiftness would indeed be beneficial. Tundra could protect Dorinda for him. She was too precious to lose. Striding to his cabin for his gear, Vesarius mentally prepared and calmed his mind even as he readied his pack.
Chapter 7: Imminent Demands
From his navigational station on the bridge, Vesarius watched his captain survey the Pompeii’s Orthop escorts w
ith solemn interest. They were nearing the planet – a bright, sand-colored sphere with wispy high-altitude clouds and bleak terrain. This time Vesarius had opportunity to contemplate the globe below.
How could the Orthops have survived so long on such a barren planet? His own Vesar homeworld had been depleted of natural resources almost a century before. The Vesar people had survived through herding and agriculture, reverting to a much simpler economy, echoing a much more violent and unstable past. Due to overpopulation, territories had soon broken down, however, and looters had scoured the countryside taking what little wealth and food remained.
Now the Orthop homeworld was as devastated as his own was that century ago. They, too, were fighting for survival – as his people had – by reaching out and taking from those who prospered: the Alliance worlds. It was therefore logical for the Vesar to speak for the Alliance in this matter. Vesar culture had survived, was still viable, only because it had agreed to peace, agreed to an alliance with the Earth and Tloni governments.
The match was not a perfect one, Vesarius contended. Conflicts still existed. Change took time. Perhaps the next generation would be born into a more tolerant and forgiving society. Dorinda and he were examples of that trend, that melding. They would set the best example.
“Sir,” Moxland announced from her communication station, snapping Vesarius from his inner wanderings. “The lead ship is hailing us.”
“Let’s hear it, Lieutenant,” Coty answered straightening in his center seat.
“Pompeii, this is Escort One. You are to settle into a stable orbit over our capital city. Your delegates may then disembark and be guided to a landing on the main plaza of Kcluchtt.”
“Acknowledged, Escort One. Any restrictions to our transmitted crew complement?”
“Yes,” came the immediate reply. “Our high chancellor is uncomfortable with Kin Companions. His telepathic link to our illustrious queen is interrupted by the wandering thoughts of such lower lifeforms. You must leave them aboard your ship.”
Vesarius scowled his disapproving sentiment at his captain. Silently he informed his waiting Kin.
“Affirmed,” Coty told their Orthop contact. His voice was tight with shared regret. “Anything else?”
“This is to be a peaceful meeting of cultures, Pompeii. There will be no weapons allowed on your people nor equipped on your transport.”
“The transport is an Alliance diplomatic vessel, Escort. There are no armaments aboard her,” Coty assured. The captain had not mentioned the vessel’s occupants. Each possessed his own form of ‘peacekeeper’.
“Acceptable,” the translated voice answered mechanically. “Trust begins now.”
Coty gave the signal to cut the open commlink by drawing his thumb across his throat then wished aloud, “Let’s hope so.” Glancing at his first officer, the captain nodded once. “Make it so, Commander.” Vesarius rose, checked his wrist translator then strode into the lift. “Zan, the bridge is yours. Keep her safe until I return.” Coty joined his first officer for the ride down to the transport bay.
With a nod, Zaneta Talyabo slid her tall, slender frame into the now vacant command seat. “Good luck, Captain. Honors to you, Commander,” she said. Vesarius snapped the dark-skinned woman a Vesar salute before the lift doors segregated them from the bridge crew.
When the pair turned the corner from the lift doors on deck five, Vesarius caught sight of Dorinda hugging Noah and Tundra goodbye with apologetic regret. Her auburn hair was freshly braided in its usual French style and tied with a strip of blue denim salvaged from the damaged jacket she had worn during her tragic trip to this future. Standing, Dorinda nodded her greeting to her captain then followed Vesarius and Coty into the transport hangar where the ambassador and his aides stood waiting beside Tolianksalya’s Vesar transport.
“Are we packed and ready, gentlemen?” Coty asked amiably. The delegates glowered back.
“A Vesar carries his only belongings, Captain,” Tolianksalya reminded.
“Of course he does, Ambassador,” Coty replied. “After you.” He waved them ahead to cover his self-conscious grimace at their severity. “We embark on a great adventure.”
“Destiny,” Vrelomakanyo declared straightening his orange tunic and following his teacher up into the ambassadorial shuttle.
Vesarius turned to give Dorinda a hand up but was amused to see Coty already there. “We compete for the lady’s attentions,” he quipped with tilted, raven head.
Coty smirked. “At least I can count on your sense of humor, Sarius.”
Once everyone was aboard and seated, Vesarius closed the hatch then slid into the pilot’s chair. He pressed the ion ignition. The transport thrummed to life a second later. “Strap in,” he advised aware that the four Vesar all stared poker-faced at his back.
He raised the transport over its retractable engine nacelles, powered them to full, and piloted the vessel smoothly through the yawning space doors. The sleek shuttle coasted out into the waiting arms of its podship escorts. Now came the first test of peaceful intentions.
“Escort, this is Alliance shuttle Vragjok,” Vesarius said into the newly installed translator. “Ready to follow your lead.” By now, half the Alliance ships frequenting this sector of space were being equipped with such Orthop-speaking translators.
Lt. Darby had only recently broken the Orthops’ written code with Dr. Water’s help. The knowledge had enabled the Pompeii’s crew to read the controls of the Mytoki Arch and set it to retrieve Vesarius from his accidental trip to the year 1999. The oral language, however, had taken longer, needing a greater sampling of the intricate and unfamiliar clicking, grinding, and popping patterns the insect creatures used for speech.
“Keep between our escorts, Vragjok. We will take you directly to Kcluchtt City.”
Leaning back in his chair, Vesarius took the joystick in one hand. Smoothly he arched the transport around to echo the swooping grace of the petite podships on either side of him. Within a moment, a low rumble announced their entry into the thick atmosphere. The transport coasted down to a barren, but somehow beautiful, crystal landscape of what seemed a maze of divine design.
This was the metropolis of Vesarius’ memory, the same impressive curves and convolutions devoid of strict angles and hard lines. Here was the Orthop soul: graceful, crystalline hard, and glistening in the light of Orthop’s orange-red sun.
The Vragjok was escorted through an opalescent archway and into central Kcluchtt City. Below, Vesarius noticed a blackened but repaired hole in the center of town. This was where the Orthop’s Arch had stood, where Coty had sent the explosive proton shell, blasting the machine to smithereens, Vesarius almost with it. The Orthops had since filled in the scar with what resembled liquid rock. The crystal concrete had hardened to a smooth sheen. Only the charred edges of the crater told the sullied story of destruction.
“Is that where the Arch stood?” Coty inquired from behind him.
“Yes,” Vesarius informed. “We will be landing there.” He pointed out through the forward viewport to a flat, hieroglyphed platform not far south of the former Arch site. A few moments later, their egg-shaped escorts coasted to a landing on the same pad. The commander expertly touched down not far behind them, setting the controls for cool-down.
Now came the hard part: selling the Alliance to an insect species with a survival mentality. The delegates must make the proposition seem mutually beneficial. No doubt Ambassador Tolianksalya had more bargaining strategies from which to work than he had publicly offered to the younger, lower ranking commander. Vesarius’ job was to initiate relations. He had many introductions to make and greetings to convey. After all, he was the Orthops’ Storyteller.
Shutting down the Vragjok’s engines, Vesarius next spun in his chair to regard his passengers. “Ambassador, would you care to be the first to step on Orthop soil in the name of peace?”
Rising from his seat, Tolianksalya strode to the hatch. Vesarius palmed the release from his station.<
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“Shouldn’t someone say something auspicious?” Dorinda asked standing as well when Coty rose to follow the ambassador. “One small step for Vesar, one giant leap for Alliance-kind?”
With a crooked smile Coty offered, “You’re the historian on this jaunt, Dori. Take your best shot.” He waved her forward.
Vesarius watched her roving eyes consider the sudden scrutiny of six sets of curious, expectant stares. Dorinda stepped to the door beside the towering ambassador and hesitated. Sucking in her first lungful of Orthop’s sweet, dry atmosphere, she ventured, “Uh … May this day live in history as one which marks the ... expansion of peace and the acceptance of diversity.”
“And may Brahmanii Sule and Wankan´Tanka protect us,” Coty added with a nod of approval.
“Eloquent, my dear,” Tolianksalya said offering his arm. “We shall walk together.”
Vesarius witnessed Dorinda’s nervous hesitation. The ambassador had taken a quick liking to his mate. Perhaps she was worried about his feelings. On the contrary. If Tolianksalya regarded Dorinda worthy of his attentions, all the better when the ambassador found out who she really was.
Taking up the rear, Vesarius followed the ambassador’s aide down from the transport. Silently, he slipped his leather pack onto his shoulder. His crossbow was already loaded inside. The weapon needed only to be withdrawn, snapped together, and cocked for firing. He was pleased to see that Saliaktayla was armed as well. Under the security officer’s waist-length cobalt cape was hidden a petite plasma cannon, folded in half and nearly resembling the recorder Domenazreli carried in his left palm. The ambassador’s apprentice Vrelomakanyo also carried a weapon, though much less effective. The ceremonial blade’s hilt protruded from the man’s thigh boot ready to be drawn in a single swift movement of hand and knee.
