by Laura Kaighn
Leading the way out into the sunshine of late afternoon, Vesarius forced his unsteady legs forward. Dorinda was right; he needed to sleep. He felt her arm entwine about his. Glancing down at her ivory complexion, the Vesar felt a surge of pride. Dorinda’s face was a steady ship of confidence and trust. Such courage there. He watched her level chin and resolute gaze scan the crystalline city with its lengthening shadows.
Blinking, Dorinda noticed his scrutiny and smiled tightening her grip on his arm. “I’m proud of you, Sarius. You’re a constant amazement to me.”
“And I myself,” Vesarius retorted. When she grimaced in skepticism, he added dryly, “That I am still on my feet.”
“And still in good humor.” Dorinda squeezed his limp arm. “I’ll stick by you,” she promised. “You start nodding off, my elbow’ll be right there to jab you awake.”
“That is a comfort,” Vesarius acknowledged with a frown. They neared the open plaza and the yawning door of the Vragjok. It was empty. “Where are they?”
“Uh, oh,” Dorinda murmured dropping her arm from his. “We weren’t gone that long. Maybe the ambassador and chancellor left to discuss the peace treaty in private. Maybe they’re in another building nearby.” The pair slowed their advance to survey the plaza.
“I did not hear plasma fire, and there would be some indication of a struggle. I see none.” Vesarius scrutinized the area with a widened eye then increased his pace, urgent to have his answer.
“We can wait for them in the transport,” Dorinda suggested trotting forward as a breeze began to kick up. The sun would be setting in another hour. Already the desert sands around the city were cooling under the lengthening shadows of its sparkling architecture.
“You will elbow me if I fall asleep,” Vesarius confirmed. With a stolid nod from Dorinda, Vesarius mounted the steps. The transport was undamaged. Pouting, Vesarius abandoned his pack and jacket to plop into a seat. He would wait for the rest of the delegation to return. Luckily their pilot Ensign Trotski confirmed Dorinda’s nonviolent hypothesis.
Just before sunset, Ambassador Tolianksalya and his men entered the Vragjok. Each carried a stack of crystalline tablets under an arm. In answer to Vesarius’ obvious curiosity, Tolianksalya explained, “The high chancellor would like you to prepare a story with these. It is a copy of the original Mytoki texts, the Orthops’ history books.”
“He gave them to you?” Dorinda exclaimed from beside Vesarius.
“They are a copy only, Jade,” Tolianksalya explained. “And he gave them to the storyteller, not to me. It seems, Commander, you are given the highest of honors.” Vesarius heard the subdued ire in the ambassador’s voice. “We may not look at these until after you have first translated them into a story for the populace. I suggest you begin immediately.”
“Yes, Vesarius,” the Pompeii’s first officer said straightening in his chair to accept the tablets the ambassador handed him. Plopping them down on his lap, Vesarius received Saliaktayla’s pile then Vrelomakanyo’s as well. When Tolianksalya’s apprentice Domenazreli leaned over with his stack, Vesarius simply raised a hand. “No, thank you. I am full.”
With a constricted brow and deep frown, Domenazreli set his heap of history onto the empty seat across the aisle from the Vesar navigator. The man could be heard growling a reproach beneath his breath as he found his own seat.
“We can start on these as soon as we get back to the ship,” Dorinda suggested.
“We?” Vesarius inquired his own brow jumping.
“Well, it looks a bit much for one to handle,” she retorted overlooking the crystal mountain with curiosity. “Besides, as an English teacher, I do have some storytelling experience.”
Nodding, Vesarius handed her Domenazreli’s stack to place on her lap. As the Vesar transport hummed alive and rose on its engine nacelles, he watched his mate scrutinizing the tablets. “You examine the writing?”
“No, the craftsmanship,” she exclaimed lifting a single slab and peering through its glittering transparency. “This looks so delicate, yet it’s etched so deeply.” Dorinda cradled the page in her other hand. Delicately a finger traced a hieroglyph. “It’s so detailed. They must use very sharp, hard tools at high speeds.”
With a nod, Vesarius offered, “It looks as if it were cut with a water etcher. My father was a stone cutter. He many times etched crystal. It was a plentiful resource about the house.”
Half smiling Dorinda added, “With a crystal mine in your back yard, it’s no wonder.” Then her smile fell. “Sorry.”
Vesarius’ frown at the mention of his parents’ crystal mine eased slightly. It was not Dorinda’s fault that he still felt a terrible guilt. Ambassador Tolianksalya had only voiced what the younger warrior had tried to deny all these years. Vesarius had been the murderer of his parents. Tanoki had simply been the weapon. By neglecting to first ask Dromalae’s permission for the crystal, Vesarius had set a deadly scheme into motion. How could he have known Tanoki would simply arrive at his parent’s homestead and demand the crystal? Vesarius was going to tell his parents about his promise – would have had it deducted from his own inheritance. But Tanoki had beaten him there ... and killed his family. Vesarius’ foolishness ... his fault.
Releasing an abysmal sigh, Vesarius watched the Orthop sky darken to stars as the Vragjok rose through the atmosphere. Their vessel soon slid into the Pompeii’s gaping docking bay. Silently the warrior disembarked and, with Dorinda in tow, strode to his quarters. There he set his armload of tablets onto his computer desk.
“This will either keep me awake or put me to sleep for good,” he mumbled head bowed over the tall stack.
Dorinda dropped Vesarius’ bulky belongings onto his bed then placed her pile of text atop the others. She then slid her arms under his to gently hug the warrior from behind. Her head rested between his stone-rigid shoulder blades. “You need a distraction. How about dinner first?”
Smiling crookedly, Vesarius turned in her arms to face her. “What kind did you have in mind?”
Returning his smile she answered earnestly, “How about scallops and Chinese vegetables? Back home, I had to drive all the way to Utica to get decent Chinese. Here, I just have to ask Julian.”
“If that is what you desire,” Vesarius agreed, now sure she had intended a meal all along. Dorinda knew how exhausted he was. To even be horizontal meant total oblivion, and truthfully he was too tired ... even for love. Leaning down first, however, he kissed her tenderly on the lips.
Dorinda melted against him eyes fluttering closed. A low groan rolled over her tongue. Oh, to just surrender to her serene body. Vesarius could instantly relax in her embrace, the tensions of the past weeks molten in a warm kiss from her soft, smooth mouth. He fingered her auburn braid then slowly straightened, supporting Dorinda’s wavering form in his.
“Hmm, dessert before dinner,” she murmured eyes still lidded. Then she smiled broadly, her emerald eyes twinkling. “Come on, Sarius. Before I lose my appetite for food.” Together they walked through the corridors to the galley, had a quiet meal with their Kin then returned to his quarters to translate the mass of tablets that were the Orthops’ law books.
“You really do not need to assist me,” Vesarius said slumping into his chair at the small data console and setting the first tablet before him. “The computer can scan and translate automatically. I need only add the syntax and flourishes.”
“Well, then,” Dorinda began, “let me provide the flourishes.” She pulled out a utility chair from its hidden storage slot and unfolded it. “By now your brain must feel like Maypo.”
“If I knew what Maypo was, I would agree,” Vesarius admitted. “The truth is I have no patience for this.” He returned the tablet to its mound.
“But the ambassador wants this done.” Dorinda rose from her chair and laid her hand upon his wilted shoulder. “I’ll do it. Tundra can be your chaperone. I trust him to keep you from snoring.”
With a crooked chin, Vesarius retorted, “I do no
t snore.”
Dorinda harrumphed in good humor. “Oh yes you do. Very loudly, I might add. I’ve felt the bulkheads quake from down the hall. Now get out of here.”
“No, Dori,” Vesarius protested. With a shake of his raven head, he sent his braid waggling. “Tolianksalya ...” After swallowing an angry curse he continued. “I cannot show weakness, or stray from my responsibility. He would -”
“Disapprove?” Dorinda cut in with sarcasm. “I don’t care what he thinks.”
“I do!” With a weary sigh, Vesarius reminded her, “Tolianksalya will prevent my citizenship, deny us Vwafar´ee. I must be perfect before his eyes. I cannot falter!”
“Then let me help you. The ambassador doesn’t need to know.”
Vesarius bolted erect. “You cannot save my soul, Dorinda. This is my responsibility.” He huffed in defeat of his conflicting emotions. “Please leave.”
Dorinda blinked, eyes widening. “You ... you can’t be alone. How can we trust you to stay awake?”
“Tundra,” he stated with a flick of his wrist. “Tundra will guard against my slumber. We have discussed distractions before, Dorinda.” Vesarius kneaded his fist. “Right now, you are distracting me from my work.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” she resigned. Then Dorinda turned a critical stare to the Vesar’s Kin lounging beside the bed. “Keep him awake, boy, or I’ll dock your tail.”
The malamute woofed an agreement as Vesarius followed her to the door. “Forgive my gruffness, Green Eyes.” He reached out to stroke her cheek with one mahogany forefinger. “I must get this done.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Dorinda stepped out.
Why did he keep turning her away? She was a great help, a comfort to his lonely existence. But it would not be proper to have her stay here. With a slow exhale, Vesarius resettled into his chair and glared at his silent malamute Kin. “I will dock more than your tail if you allow me any sleep,” he warned. Tundra only moaned a reply.
Vesarius set the key controls for translating then linked the monitor to his reconfigured scanner. He began his arduous task. By hovering the palm-sized device above each tablet, the Vesar fed the Orthop-Mytoki hieroglyphs directly into his computer. From there the viewscreen displayed and stored an Alliance Standard version of the text. It would soon be ready to edit. Four hours later, and with little energy to perch upright in his chair, Vesarius checked his wrist chrono: O-one hundred and three minutes. In just a little over twelve hours, the warrior could succumb to the oblivion which now threatened to engulf him like a quilted bedcover.
“I will not make it, my friend,” he told the lounging malamute. “I cannot even raise myself from this chair.” Tundra groaned in shared empathy and projected an image of the Vesar sprawled asleep on his bunk. With a grunt of irony, Vesarius heaved his lead body out of his seat. “You may, if you desire. I must see Sheradon about a stimulant. A rather potent one.” Vesarius massaged the throbbing carotid at the back of his neck. “I would tolerate her bedside sarcasm right now to allow me a pain reliever as well.”
When Vesarius shuffled into the medical lab, Dr. Sheradon pouted at him from within her office. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she hailed setting her datapad down atop her desk and crossing her arms against her chest. “You look about ready to keel over for good.”
“I ask for your pity, Yolonda. And another stimulant.” Vesarius slumped heavily against the open doorjamb. “I have been preparing the Mytoki text for tomorrow’s talks. I do not recall any of it.”
Sheradon rolled from her chair. “I’ll do you one better, Iron Man. How about another brain scan? If it’s normal, I’ll clear you of duty.” She strode past him and into the medical center.
“You mean sleep?” Vesarius felt a deep surge of desire in his ragdoll appendages. That newfound energy propelled him, as if by remote control, toward the physician and a diagnostic bed. “I cannot remember what it feels like.”
“Well, Coty’s got to be told,” Sheradon informed leading the way to the platform. “He’ll have to arrange your time off.”
“Wait. He cannot,” Vesarius protested with a raised hand and stalled boots. “I am due back on the planet to read the Mytoki history to the people. If I close my eyes, I will be unconscious for a week.”
Sheradon shook her head. “Then postpone story hour for a few days. The Pompeii’s not going anywhere.”
“Tolianksalya will not allow it.”
“He still doesn’t know about this, does he?” Sheradon grimaced and stepped closer. “You can’t keep secrets from him, Vesarius. You’ll only dig yourself and Dorinda deeper into trouble.”
“Dorinda is not involved in this.”
“She’d be the first to disagree. She’s involved ... as seriously as you. And she’ll be just as hurt if you continue to side-step the truth.”
“Perhaps you could arrange to inform the ambassador.” Sidling his solid frame onto the bed, Vesarius loosened his tunic laces. “A medical report could be slipped unknowingly under his door or onto his breakfast plate.” He stripped from his shirt. It flumped to the bed.
Sighing in compliance, Sheradon stepped forward. “All right. I guess you don’t need to personally debase yourself any further.” She rolled the table-like cerebral scanner to the bedside. “I’ll have Dorinda deliver my report to him in the morning with a full explanation. We’ll say we wanted to keep this confidential until we were sure of the second test’s outcome. Fair?”
With a weary nod, Vesarius agreed. “Fair. Truth is better.”
“Good.” Yolonda poked at the machine’s controls. “I’m glad you see the wisdom of the matter.”
“I would like the ambassador to see as well,” Vesarius added lying down upon the platform.
“Now,” Sheradon said, “I’ll hook you to some electro-muscular stimulators. They’ll keep your brain from settling into REM sleep while I’m running the test.” Vesarius watched as the doctor attached a set of electrodes to his heart, ribs and bare abdomen. “These’ll produce random electrical shocks, just enough to jolt you awake. It’ll more tickle than hurt, OK?”
“And after my heart has been fried, you can serve it on toast for breakfast.”
“Not funny, Sarius. You do need sleep.” Sheradon pulled the brain scanner closer. “Keep your eyes closed and your head still. Think about a darlogk hunt or something. Keep your mind occupied. This’ll take some minutes.” After positioning the device over the Vesar’s face, Sheradon announced, “Starting ... now,” and pressed the activation switch.
Vesarius closed his eyes and pictured a forest, deep green and shaded. In the delicate undergrowth, he imagined he heard the rustling of dried leaves, a guttural gurgling, and a snapping twig. He knew the beasts were there somewhere. Buzz-tingle. The electro-pads interrupted his thoughts with a mild electrical jolt.
Vesarius glanced about his forest and noticed an eerie silence from the treetops. Where were the violet brumben birds? They should have been cawing a warning this time of day. Whenever he had entered their woods, the feathered creatures would swoop down through the branches of the evergreen tiolo trees to harass him, tugging at his braid if they could. Buzz-tingle. But now there was nothing. Had they died off since his last visit to Vesahran-dani? It had been nearly nine years.
Pivoting in his mind’s eye, Vesarius looked back over his shoulder. Rhaza Mountain rose from the verdant horizon like a jagged thumb of gray flesh. He was in the right place. This was his home, and ... buzz-tingle ... he had heard the darlogk gurgle a warning to its mate. They were still here. Buzz-tingle.
As he continued forward into the shadow-laden woods of his former home, Vesarius remembered the scent of lillakthorn and the crisp chilly air of morning on his prickled skin. He could still sense everything, as if he had never left. Buzz-tingle. It was all still here ... in his memory. But to physically return ... to the forest, to the mountain, the western Kcteni swamp with its sticky soletberry bushes, its spongy theren trees so good for knife throwi
ng. To actually be allowed to return home ... to stroll through the Rhaza forest, climb Rhaza’s summit, and gaze out over the northern Kytondii plains.
Vesarius sighed involuntarily. Buzz-tingle. He was not permitted that luxury – an outcast from all Vesar worlds. A Grilcmzáe. Forbidden even to look upon the only place he truly remembered as home. This was the world, he realized, gazing about the cool forest and deep blue sky, where Sologin used to fly, dodging for songbirds and diving for lizards. This was the place where, as a child, Vesarius had once fallen and broken three ribs. Marooned on a ledge of Rhaza Mountain, he had needed to stay alert throughout the chilling night for a predator cat in search of easy prey.
This inner vision of emerald, and tan, and gray was where he had become a man, had learned the skills of the knife and crossbow. Buzz-tingle. Rhaza Homestead was as fresh as yesterday in his memory: hot and dry in the peak of sonan´tchu, frigid and snow-dusted during the throes of we´ntdros. This was where Vesarius had desired to return someday, to the adobe homestead beneath the gray, crystal-rich thumb of Rhaza.
But he had made that impossible now. Within that hasty youth of early manhood, Vesarius had rebelled against his father to befriend an alien: a human named Gideon San Tanoki. And because of that friendship, that trust, this Eden was forever lost to him. One could never return home after such treachery as his.
“Vesarius?”
“Yes, Dori,” he answered from atop the medical platform.
“You can get up now. The test’s done.”
Opening his ebony eyes, Vesarius noticed her concerned, crescent gaze. The cerebral scanner had already been rolled away. “What is wrong?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.” She reached down to gently caress his cheek.
He realized then his face was wet. “I was thinking of home,” Vesarius began sitting up and wiping the rest of his warm tears away. “I ... want to return there, but I can never go back.”
“Sure you can,” Dorinda asserted sitting down beside him. “Sarius, you’re going to show me the swamp where Sologin tricked you into climbing that tree.” Reassuringly she squeezed his thigh. “We’re going to hike up Rhaza Mountain together. And ... we can visit the crystal mine ... if you want. If the house is still there, I’d love to see it too.”
