by Laura Kaighn
Dorinda’s plasma pistol was hidden beneath her cotton blazer which she quickly zipped to conceal the weapon more thoroughly. The gesture also guarded it against a sand-laden wind which stirred at the grounded shuttle.
As the Alliance team stepped down onto the quartz-like landing plateau, Vesarius’ nose remembered his previous trip here. He had been alone then, and the breeze had brought the scent of Earth oranges mixed with blooming lillakthorn. Here again was that peaceful scent afloat in the dense, dry air of this desert world.
“Welcome, delegates,” a voice announced. Following the ambassador’s and Dorinda’s lead, Vesarius and the rest stopped before a small assembly of towering Orthops gathered to greet them.
These were the creatures of his memory: three meters tall, covered in creamy, organic armor. Their serrated mantis foreclaws and secondary arms were folded against their plated thoraxes in a nonthreatening stance. Each Orthop’s set of quadruple eyestalks swerved in unison to focus on the Alliance team as the leader’s heavy mandibles clacked his greeting. “Welcome to Kcluchtt, the seat of government and culture.”
“Wisdom be yours, Wise One,” Ambassador Tolianksalya addressed the head Orthop crossing his own arms in the creature’s gesture of respect. “We have much to discuss. I am Ambassador Tolianksalya of the Vesar High Council and representative for the Alliance.”
“I am the high chancellor’s aide,” the translators at everyone’s wrists spoke in response to the Orthop’s clicking address. “If you will follow me, High Chancellor would first to speak to Storyteller.”
From behind the ambassador, Vesarius could not tell what reaction Tolianksalya gave to that request, but the Vesar diplomat squared his shoulders and walked stiffly after their insect guides, Dorinda still at his side. So they wished to speak to him first. Vesarius had actually expected this. But to spare criticism, he had not told the ambassador. Tolianksalya would simply have thought the commander arrogant, more so than his lowly station would have allowed. Increasing his stride, Vesarius was soon behind Dorinda and following the trio of Orthop escorts down the escalator stairs to the crystalline streets below.
“You’ve made a definite impression,” Coty offered from behind him as they descended to the empty sidewalk.
“A good one, perhaps. My last visit left a crater a city block wide in the center of town and instantly killed a score of their telepathic queenkeepers.”
“I’m sure they don’t blame you for that,” Coty defended. “You were an innocent bystander.”
“More like a by-jumper,” Vesarius countered. He recalled his mad dash for the Orthops’ time Arch, his only escape avenue as the Pompeii’s proton armament had struck home a second later. “The new high chancellor may not be a forgiving soul.”
They were now being led along a street with which Vesarius was familiar. “They are taking us to the open plaza, where the Arch once stood,” he informed. “They may have a queenkeeper assembly awaiting us.” As the party walked, several single podships hummed along above the avenue, the only indication that there was any other life in the city.
“Why is it so deserted? Where are all the others?” Dorinda asked from in front of him.
Vesarius’ sensitive ears picked up her trembling apprehension. Dorinda had never met an Orthop in person before, and she was not fond of insects. This encounter was most probably proving to be more than a little nerve-wracking for the twentieth century-born teacher of literature. The stories she had heard of their swift, barbaric eating habits and methods of cocooning their live prey no doubt caused waking nightmares for anyone used to the idea. Dorinda was only a recent arrival in this century. The Orthop threat was a horrifying part of the twenty-second century equation. Dorinda was probably wishing for Vwafar´ee rather than this present encounter.
Vesarius then recalled her vision of an ambush. What if it was true? Had he let her come with them to be eaten alive? Setting his jaw, Vesarius tightened his grip on his pack strap. The crossbow could be cocked and fired within seconds. If it came down to combat, Vesarius vowed he would kill Dorinda first. With one explosive arrow blast to the head, her death would be instantaneous, nearly painless, and far more humane than from an Orthop’s mandibles.
The party was now nearing the open plaza where Vesarius could see an aisle rimmed by waiting Orthop drone soldiers. Was it formality or futility, ceremony or suicide, which made this small assembly of Alliance representatives step forward between the ranks of towering claws and mandibles? Seeing Dorinda shrink against the ambassador, Vesarius strode closer to his human mate. He must keep his senses alert.
“Greetings to you, Peacekeepers,” came the translated voice of the high chancellor who stood atop a low platform at the far end of the assembly. “Step forward into trust and mutual friendship.”
When the group neared the end, the chancellor crossed his foreclaws in respect. The Vesar ambassador and his aides mirrored the gesture with their arms. “High Chancellor, I am Ambassador Tolianksalya of the Vesar. I want to extend the greetings of my people and of all Alliance citizens.”
“Greetings, Ambassador. Where is your storyteller? I would open relations with him since he first spoke of peace. He came telling of our Great Oneness, our wise ancestors. I would have him tell the story of his visit. No doubt there will be a more pleasant ending.”
“That is our desire as well,” Tolianksalya affirmed. He stepped aside to allow the commander access to the platform. “Here is your storyteller.” With a warning glower, the ambassador waved Vesarius forward.
“Storyteller, welcome. Please come stand beside me. We are eager to hear about our ancestors. You have spoken to them, I am told. What wisdom did they share?”
Stepping beyond the ambassador, Vesarius felt a cool hand on his forearm. Without looking he knew it was Dorinda. She had to be frightened, near panic. He had to reassure her. After hauling himself up the three Orthop-sized steps to the nine meter square stage, Vesarius turned to find Dorinda’s eyes round. He suddenly wished Tundra had been allowed to attend. The ambassador’s men were there to protect him, not Coty or Dorinda. Vesarius lowered his pack to the platform stage and swallowed. If he wanted a story, the high chancellor was going to get a good one.
“Please, Storyteller,” the Orthop dignitary implored with an outstretched foreclaw, “speak the truth to my people.”
Out past the platform hunkered a crowd of Orthops not unlike the assembly of queenkeepers Vesarius had faced before. The problem was, he had to turn his back on his own party to address them. Reluctantly the warrior closed his eyes and tried to calm the heart battering his double shoulder blades. Trust, Vesarius. Trust must be earned. They were here to ignite that flame. It begins now.
With a deep, restful breath, Vesarius cleared his throat and faced his insect audience. “I am the storyteller,” he began. “I came to share the wisdom of your ancestors, the Mytoki, your Great Oneness.” Gathering his thoughts, aware that Dorinda, Coty, and the ambassador were all listening intently, Vesarius barged on. “Your Wise Ones lived long ago in a great city of stone, a month’s journey from here. Their civilization collapsed due to illness – a plague they had brought back from a trip through the Arch, a time gate of their construction.
“As they were dying,” Vesarius continued, “your ancestors devised a method of survival. They separated a queen from the rest – a young, immune queen with many eggs. Later, when everyone else had perished, she alone set the time controls to send her children into the future, safe from infection and death.”
Vesarius swung his arms in emphasis. “You are those children, survivors of a devastating mistake. The time machine was your ancestors’ curse. They wanted nothing more than for you to live in peace without it. Now we have come to offer you that peace, a solution to your crowded cities and dwindling resources.” Vesarius watched the assembled gathering for a reaction, satisfied that many of the Orthops crossed their huge mantis claws across their plated thoraxes in a gesture of honor. So, the Mytoki had kept th
eir word. This new book they promised must be here. It was being read to the multitudes.
“You speak the truth, Storyteller,” the high chancellor asserted from beside him. “Please, continue. Tell us of your meeting with our ancestors, your trip back through time to visit them.”
With a nod and a glance back at his friends, Vesarius addressed his insect audience once more. “People of Orthop. I spoke with the high chancellor of Mytok. He was kind to me, but concerned for his children. Even as he was dying of the plague, I comforted him that you had in fact flourished, though you had depleted your planet’s natural resources. I warned that you saw invasion as your only option. He was appalled and immediately consulted his queen.
“The Mytoki high chancellor assured me this problem would be corrected. He planned to send you his queen’s requests.” Vesarius turned to the towering Orthop beside him. “High Chancellor, have you received a book? A crystal tablet of wisdom from your Great Oneness? Only recently discovered?”
“Yes, Storyteller. Again you speak the truth.” The Orthop’s foreclaws dipped in agreement. “A wisdom stone was found with our queen just a short span ago. She has studied it and been enlightened.” The chancellor’s squat eyestalks twirled in excitement. “We wish for you to read it aloud for us. No one but our queen and her queenkeepers have yet experienced the stone’s wisdom words.”
“I would be honored to read this wisdom stone, High Chancellor,” Vesarius agreed. Inwardly he was pleased there seemed no animosity, in the Orthop hierarchy, regarding the previous destruction of the Arch or the killing of the assembled queenkeepers. The Orthop queen had simply trained a new assembly of leader drones to run her civilization. Now they wanted the appended Orthop law read to the people. Indeed a great honor. No doubt Tolianksalya was fuming.
“I will have the book brought to you. Now, Storyteller, our queenkeepers would wish to speak to you in private. To welcome you.”
Vesarius considered his towering companion. Did he mean alone? Might Dorinda be correct in saying he would be in danger, separated from her and the rest of the Pompeii complement? Was this a trap?
Before he could speak up to clarify, someone cleared his throat and grumbled, “High Chancellor, might we discuss your intentions as a committee?” Turning to regard the Vesar ambassador, Vesarius saw the older man’s ebony eyes were hooded in barely-controlled rage. “We came to talk of peace. Stories only tell of the past. The Alliance wishes to plan our future.”
The high chancellor rumbled a non-translatable sound. Vesarius’ decoding device only echoed the guttural emission, but he had witnessed that noise before. The Orthop leader was laughing at Tolianksalya. “We will talk of the Alliance’s desires later, Vesar Ambassador. Storyteller is our honored guest. Our Great Oneness has asked us to welcome him. We will follow their wishes ... gratefully.”
So, the ancient Mytoki leader had instructed his offspring to honor him. Had the dying Mytoki legate known Vesarius would return to his Orthop children? It was a logical assumption, but seldom was the galaxy so inclined. Chaos was more often the rule. In any case, the Orthops were planning on treating him as an honored guest. Vesarius could not refuse, but perhaps he could alter the stipulations, softening the obvious blow to Tolianksalya’s ego.
“High Chancellor,” he began eyeing Dorinda’s tight jaw. Her chin was trembling. “Might my companions be present for my welcoming? They are eager to learn all they can of Orthop culture. I will be responsible for their behavior. They only want to observe.”
After a momentary quivering of hard-cased mandibles and a quick spinning of eyestalks, the chancellor agreed. “Your companions will follow these escorts,” he said waving a foreclaw at the nearest pair of Orthop drone-soldiers forming their insect aisle. “They will be guided to the reception area where the welcoming will commence. We will join them shortly.”
With crossed arms of respect, Vesarius nodded formally. “Thank you, High Chancellor.” Then, following the Orthop leader down from the platform, Vesarius was intercepted by a worried young woman. “I will be all right,” he assured her.
“No, Vesarius. You won’t,” Dorinda argued gripping his arm with surprising strength. “They’re separating us. You’re in grave danger. It’s just like I -”
Vesarius braced an open palm to stall her protest. He sighed in forced calm, though his heart bashed beneath dual shoulder blades. “If they wanted to kill me, they would have done so already,” he reasoned. “I trust the Mytoki. The ancient high chancellor was appalled by what his children had become. The Orthops want peace. Please, do not worry.” Vesarius patted her hand and moved to follow the Orthop queenkeeper.
“I can’t just shut out the fear,” Dorinda countered behind him.
“Then channel it.” Aware that Tolianksalya was within auditory range, Vesarius could comfort her no further without giving away his feelings. “Stay with Coty. Attempt a new vision quest.” Then he was too distant, his friends obscured by the hard shell casings of Orthop backs.
The Alliance delegation must trust these aliens. The Orthops could have vaporized the Pompeii if they wished to deny access to their world. So far, negotiations were progressing well. Swallowing against his desert dry throat, Vesarius increased his pace to catch up to the longer-legged Orthop chancellor.
“Our queenkeepers have awaited your arrival, Storyteller. Our queen has told us about our past, but she is no storyteller herself. She could only express her interest in your stories.”
“I am honored.”
“These stories are our history,” the chancellor explained. “We have only remnants from our forefathers. This new book is the next chapter for our future. It is time all understand that wisdom.” As they neared the perimeter of the open plaza, the high chancellor ventured, “We have a proposal for you, Storyteller.”
Vesarius was approaching a low, arching structure with a sweeping, irregularly shaped doorway. The interior was dark, lit only by a yawning skylight near the forward peak of the rounded roof. “Your queenkeepers desire me to tell the story,” Vesarius guessed.
“Our queen wishes to tell you. She will speak through our Voicer. He is her personal speaker.”
“He is in this building?” Vesarius asked pausing at the crystalline entrance.
“Yes. Voicer speaks the queen’s words. He will tell you what we wish you to do.”
Nodding, Vesarius strode into the darker interior of the windowless, cave-like structure and immediately sighted his welcoming committee. Lined along the inner wall was a score of cream-colored orthopteroids, their hefty mantis claws crossed over their plated middles. “Greetings, Wise Ones,” Vesarius offered adjusting his pack higher on his right shoulder then crossing his own bare arms against his chest. “I am eager to share the wisdom of the Mytoki.”
After a moment of eyestalk twirling and mandible clamping, one of the leader drones stepped forward. “I am Voicer, Storyteller. My queen wishes you sit and be comfortable.”
Pulling off his pack, Vesarius faced the assembly. He crossed his legs and in one smooth movement lowered himself to the cool quartz-like floor.
“I have awaited you, Storyteller,” the queen said through Voicer’s clicking mandibles. Vesarius’ hackles rose, for it seemed as though the Orthop before him had transformed into another being. The Vesar’s sensitive ears picked up a thrumming quality to Voicer’s guttural speech. Within the domed sanctuary, the sound was almost palpable. No longer an individual, Voicer was instead a vessel for the queen’s thoughts and wishes. Eerily unnerved at the sensation, Vesarius listened intently as Voicer continued. “Our citizens need the Great Oneness, its laws, to redirect us from our failings. Will you help us, Storyteller?”
“I will do what I can, Illustrious Queen,” Vesarius agreed. “Please explain your desires.” As Voicer elucidated the Orthop queen’s plan, Vesarius nodded. Yes. He would read the laws then tell the people of them. The queen felt his gift was greater than any of her leader drones. The telepathic queenkeepers were just not
able to interpret the scribbles and signs of the Mytoki into concepts the simpler populace could comprehend.
“You will do this for us?” Voicer asked for the queen.
“Yes, Mother of Millions. I will share the wisdom words of the Great Oneness with your people. When would you want me to start?”
“First we will welcome you to Orthop. Our citizens will know that you are Storyteller, equal in status to Voicer, for you are speaker for the Mytoki, our forefathers.”
“Very good,” Vesarius acknowledged and unfolded his legs to stand. “I am honored by your trust. May I rejoin my Alliance companions now? They will be eager to learn of this honor.” Vesarius smirked at his own words. Most of them, anyway.
“The high chancellor will return you to the plaza. You will be honored and welcomed as our kin. Then you will speak the wisdom words of the Mytoki. All will know the history of our forefathers and their brave mother queen.”
Vesarius pushed himself vertical pulling his pack with him. As the high chancellor waved him out, Vesarius crossed his arms in farewell to Voicer and the other queenkeepers before following. “I am grateful your queen has entrusted me with this matter, High Chancellor. When I read the books to your people, I too will know the history of the Mytoki and their desires for their children. We will be in understanding.”
“We wish for Orthop to thrive, Storyteller,” the high chancellor admitted. “At first we believed it only accomplished through force. You will tell of another option, one much wiser.” They were nearing the speaking platform. The Orthop audience, however, had migrated to the open square beyond the stage.
Vesarius couldn’t see his companions. A frigid knife unzipped his spine. Goose flesh congealed along his bare mahogany arms. He must trust them. The Mytoki had corrected their errors.
“Please, take the lead, Storyteller. Orthop’s citizens want to see you. To them you are the messenger from our Great Oneness.”
As the high chancellor waved him forward with one massive foreclaw, Vesarius adjusted his pack and marched toward the waiting crowd. He blinked at the sight. Again his audience stood with crossed claws. Was it admiration or awe? The deferential gesture would be riling the ambassador. Tolianksalya had gotten less than a dozen sentences in so far, and the total might not increase anytime soon. Vesarius smirked at the possibility.
