Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  “No,” Vesarius admitted chin drooping. “I cannot go back. It is no longer my home. The Pompeii is the only place I will ever be welcome.”

  “Not true,” Dorinda countered as she plucked the electro-pads from his flesh. “Someday you’ll return to Vesahran-dani. I have a ... a strong sense that we’ll both go there ... together.”

  “You had a vision?” Vesarius straightened on the bed and rubbed his still tingling heart.

  “Not exactly,” Dorinda clarified. She fingered the collection of electro-pads and swung her dangling legs beside him. “It’s just a feeling ... a wish, I suppose.” Her emerald gaze centered on his own ebony stare. “If you wish really hard, and work toward those ends, I’ve found wishes do come true.”

  With a crooked smirk, Vesarius had to admit his skepticism. “You are an optimist, Green Eyes. Vesar do not hold such beliefs. We do not wish. Neither do we trust in hope.”

  “Michael once called me an old-fashioned idealist.” Dorinda shrugged and glanced at the crumpled hands in her lap. “Maybe he’s right, but there’re more important things to worry about in the cosmos than petty differences.” She set the pads down on the platform beside her. “There’re greater goals for us to set.”

  Vesarius harrumphed thoughtfully and clasped her hand. “That is an optimist’s view,” he agreed. “It comforts me to know you are so hopeful in the midst of such chaos. Dorinda,” he told her more seriously. “You were born almost one hundred fifty years ago. Yet you are more certain of your life than I, who has lived in this century, this time plane, all of my life.”

  Again Dorinda’s shoulders jerked. “I believe in fate. I’m here, in this time, making the best of what God’s given me.”

  “You believe you have no free choice?” Vesarius’ brow narrowed. His fist tightened about her fingers. “I cannot comprehend the universe as my controller.”

  “It’s not, Sarius.” In her defense, Dorinda placed her free palm atop his darker digits. “I do have choices, but only within the parameters God’s set for me. I can’t be a lawyer or a Tloni. I’m a teacher. I’m human. I can’t be a teacher now, so my other choices, my other gifts, have come into play. But what I’m doing now has always been within me.”

  “Like my storytelling?”

  “Yes.” Dorinda offered a single nod. “To the Orthops, your gift is your vocation. Storytelling’s something that’ll improve with time, like my writing. I’ve wanted to publish a novel since I was eight.”

  Dorinda chuckled, eyes dipping shut as if from a fond memory. “Now there’s a story.” She swung her legs and interlocked her arm in his. Cheerfully, Dorinda recounted the tale. “I wrote my first story down in one of my brother’s notebooks. Frank found it and showed it to Mom.” Grinning widely, Dorinda continued, “Mom thought it was very original and congratulated Frank for writing such a clever tale about a mouse in search of a new home.”

  Vesarius, curious at the outcome of this misunderstanding, slid from the diagnostic bed and helped Dorinda down as well. “Your brother took credit for the story?”

  “At first he did. Frank was two years older than I. But when Mom asked him to correct the spelling errors, he was embarrassed. One of the words had been in his spelling unit two weeks before. Mom couldn’t believe Frank’d forgotten how to spell ‘enormous’.”

  “Ah, the truth was known.” Vesarius sighed feeling his legs flinch with fatigue.

  “Yes, and I came in from roller skating on the driveway. So, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Instead he started chewing me out for writing in his math binder.”

  “My father would have had me mining crystal for a month for lying to him,” Vesarius admitted leaning against the bed. His knees were trembling now.

  Dorinda, seeing his distress, grabbed his arm. “Sit down, Sarius. You’re exhausted.”

  “Good news, you two!” Yolonda Sheradon trotted in with a paper readout and computer crystal in her hands. “Night, night, Sarius. You’re relieved of duty.”

  “I am normal?” Vesarius paused against the bed. His fingers clutched his flattened, leather shirt.

  With a nod, Sheradon explained, “Brain scan checks out, Mister. Coty’s already talking to the ambassador about postponing your little fieldtrip planetside.”

  Vesarius took up his tunic and sighed in regret. “The ambassador will know I have concealed the truth from him.” He slipped his shirt onto his sagging frame.

  Sheradon frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d already agreed on this. Ambassador Tolianksalya must know everything pertaining to the mission. At least it’s good news.”

  “You are right, of course, Doctor.” Vesarius tugged at his side lacings, but wearily left them untied. “The ambassador is not at fault for my capture. Nor am I to blame for what the rebel Orthops did to me. I was outnumbered and without my crossbow.”

  “Little good it would have done you at the time,” Sheradon countered. Vesarius, too, had picked up on Dorinda’s blush of resignation at the mention of the crossbow. “Now get out of here, before I have you committed for sleepwalking.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Vesarius quipped standing awkwardly at attention and saluting.

  Dorinda chuckled as, with newfound stamina, Vesarius spun toward the door and strode from the medical lab. He had to snatch at the doorframe, however, to stop himself from diving headlong into the corridor. Right behind him, Dorinda asked, “I guess we’ll forego the bedtime story.”

  Vesarius allowed her to escort him to the magnelift. “It would interfere with precious snoring time.”

  “Do you want to be tucked in?” She was supporting him as he swaggered along.

  Blinking at the question, Vesarius’ taxed brain realized her ploy. “Not necessary.” He teetered into the opening lift. “Doubtless I will be asleep before my head hits the platform. However,” he countered tapping the lift control, “if you feel a need to ... monitor my progress, you may.” She relaxed visibly, but he cautioned, “However, it would not be proper for you to stay. Confirm that my sleep is normal, then -”

  “Right,” Dorinda cut him off. They stepped from the lift and proceeded to his quarters.

  Conscious of others in the corridor, Vesarius waved her into his cabin saying, “I am grateful for your assistance.”

  With a shy smile, Dorinda entered the Vesar’s darkened cabin and greeted Tundra with an affectionate ruffle of the malamute’s mane. “If you’re up to it, boy, Noah needs a swimming companion in the morning. I’ll be busy catching up on lost sleep myself.” Yawning in agreement, Tundra plopped down beside the bed and laid his muzzle on his forepaws.

  “Sweet dreams,” Dorinda offered as the Vesar sat to tug off his boots. He next yanked the leather tunic from his bent frame. The Tankawankanyi totem stones clicked a lullaby as the garment flew to the couch.

  “Wake me in a year,” he moaned and flopped back onto his pillow closing his eyes. After a few minutes of steady breathing, however, Vesarius realized he was too tired to sleep. He jostled his heavy frame onto his side to get more comfortable. Dorinda was studying him from the couch. “I need a moment to remember how,” he admitted to her contorted frown.

  “You’ll remember.” Leaning back she crossed her arms and grinned crookedly. “If you can’t, I’ll bonk you on the head with a rubber mallet for good measure.”

  Vesarius offered her a drowsy reprimand. “Always the violent alternative.” He lidded his eyes to try again. Soon he felt his mind drift down into a peaceful oblivion – his universe not an Orthop tunnel but a silent sack of black velvet.

  Chapter 13: Confessions

  Dorinda tilted her head and observed Vesarius’ breathing slow. Ten minutes. She thought for sure it would have taken ten seconds. The Vesar’s sleep was calm, peaceful. Normal. With a sigh of released tension, Dorinda settled onto the couch tucking her legs up beside her. One-thirty-three and all was well. She was content to watch his mahogany side rise and fall in deep, restful breaths.

  Confident that Tundra would alert her t
o any problems during the night, Dorinda slumped further down on the couch and, with Vesarius’ rumpled tunic as her pillow, was soon asleep herself.

  Sometime later, however, she was startled awake at a now familiar sound. Dorinda checked her chronometer: three-thirty-five a.m. Who could it be? She slid from the couch to answer the door chime. It was too early for Yolonda’s visit. Yawning, Dorinda stepped to the door and blinked at the person glowering down at her from the hallway. “Ambassador ... What can I ...?”

  “You are here? With him?” Tolianksalya strode into the cabin to spy the man sprawled on the bed.

  “I … I was monitoring his sleep,” Dorinda stammered in her defense. “He’s -”

  “No after-effects from the brainwashing?” The ambassador brushed back his cape to set his fists.

  “No apparent side-effects, no,” she answered quietly. Tolianksalya had not been so concerned in his inquiry. Then she was conscious of the ambassador’s conflicted stare. He had noticed how she looked at the sleeping warrior.

  “We must talk, Jade,” Tolianksalya informed lowly. “Come.”

  “Yes, Sir.” With only a cursory glance back at her mate, Dorinda followed the elder Vesar into the corridor. “Is this about the mission? Vesarius finished the history book translations you wanted. He’s done everything you asked. Does the high chancellor want it read first thing in the morning?”

  Tolianksalya said nothing, only led the way to her quarters. With an expectant brow he waited to be invited in. Nervously, Dorinda complied and waved him past her. He scrutinized the subdued surroundings and ventured his opinion. “Your cabin is rather spartan. I would have expected more decorative amenities from a human.”

  From the couch, Noah raised his drowsy head to moan his apprehension at the imposing visitor. “You forget, Ambassador,” Dorinda defended sending Noah a calming glance. “I haven’t had much time to collect things. Besides, I’ve found the Vesar philosophy practical. Vesarius can carry his every belonging in his pack. That makes sense to me.”

  “Indeed,” Tolianksalya retorted. “I would think human custom engraved on your psyche.”

  “Well, I don’t like to dust. Besides, what’s one more change compared to the others I’ve had to make? Please, sit down.” Dorinda waved the ambassador to her couch. “Books are the only things I really used to collect,” she elaborated as Noah slid off the furniture. The otter next bounced to the bed with a wary eye. “I’ve got a library expansion project going on aboard the ship. I’ll soon have all the computer rings I need.”

  Dorinda felt Tolianksalya’s critical eyes on her as she sat down on the bed edge across from him. To soothe her own apprehension, she stroked her Kin’s round head. What did he wish to discuss?

  The ambassador visibly evaluated her stiff-spined stance. Rather than cut to his agenda, he continued on her topic. “Books were in paper form during your century. Do you not miss the feel of a book ... its weight in your hands?” He spread his fingers as though a heavy volume rested there.

  “Yes, I do. I miss many things. It’s not easy adapting to a new place.” Dorinda watched the ambassador adjust his seat as if his shoulders were shackled. “You seem tired,” she stated for him, noticing also his lined and dark face. He appeared much older. “Can I get you some ice tea or perhaps a lemonade?”

  “These are human foods?”

  “Yes. They’re cold drinks. I’ve taught the cook how to make them southern style from scratch. Lemonade’s a bit out of fashion now, but in my century it was savored on hot summer days.”

  Tolianksalya tilted a nod. “Then I will try some of your lemonade.”

  Smiling slightly, cautious not to show her relief or her anxiety, Dorinda muttered an excuse. She ignored Noah’s hesitant whine and left for the galley annex at the end of the hall. The little room held all the amenities of a home’s kitchen, complete with a petite cooking pad, an electronic food processor, and a food preserver unit. Ducking her arm into an overhead cabinet, Dorinda retrieved a serving tray and two glasses. Then with a peek inside the food preserver, she selected a clear, capped pitcher of her grandmother’s own recipe for lemonade. She also chose a small plate of cream pastries. She might as well be hospitable, even if Tolianksalya hated her mate. There was no sense in condemning an already condemned man.

  Then rushing back, tray in hands, Dorinda attempted her best hostess act. “Well, Ambassador, I’m sure you’ve never had this before.” As she strode back in, Dorinda noticed the dignitary was turning a folded, cream-colored parchment over in his hands. Quickly he slid it back into his cape.

  “This is my grandmother’s recipe,” Dorinda informed. She set the tray down on the bed and poured him a glass from the pitcher. “Only the freshest lemons and honey are used, plus a pinch of salt for good measure.”

  “Ah, no alcohol, then,” Tolianksalya surmised taking the proffered glass. “I thought, perhaps, at this hour ...”

  “We should all be asleep with warm milk in our bellies,” Dorinda finished when the Vesar’s voice trailed off. After pouring herself a glass, she sat down beside him, the plate of pastries in between. “Of course, my grandmother’s lemonade goes best with popcorn or fresh baked snickerdoodles. All I found were these cannolis.” Dorinda anticipated a wry comment from the ambassador regarding the comical food names, but Tolianksalya wasn’t Vesarius. The elder statesman displayed no amusement other than a tilted brow.

  Noah simply blinked from the bed. Dorinda continued her hostess act, referring to the cream-filled tubes. “They’re rather greasy for my taste, but you may like to try one.” She watched the diplomat take a sip of the lemonade. “I’m not familiar with Vesar pastries or treats,” she confessed. “The commander isn’t really a sugar eater, though he does like pecan sweet rolls I’ve noticed.”

  Tolianksalya took another sip from his glass, his brooding features lightening just a shade. With a third sip he had decided. “This is very good, Jade. Tart yet sweet. I commend your grandmother on her expertise. Truly a warrior’s drink.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador. Three months ago, I could have passed along your compliments.”

  Tolianksalya considered her for a long moment with a tilted gaze. “It must be difficult for you,” he finally ventured, “not to have family to consult in this diverse and dangerous future you have come to. How do you believe your family took your ... disappearance?”

  Settling deeper into her seat, Dorinda considered the dark Vesar’s question. Her glass was poised at her lips. “My mother had my father’s strong support. Frank had his own life and children to rely on. To be honest, my deepest regret was leaving Casey behind.”

  “She was your daughter?”

  Blinking at the question, Dorinda set down her lemonade and smiled, embarrassed to admit to this man her attachment to a mere animal. People were supposed to be more important: her mother, her father, her brother, Frank. “No.” Dorinda avoided his earnest stare. Instead she sought comfort in her otter Kin’s soft eyes. “She was my dog. She and I shared a home in the Adirondack woods. Casey was my companion.”

  “Kin Companion? No,” Tolianksalya corrected himself, his own gaze falling upon the otter flattened atop the bed. “They did not yet exist.”

  “No, but we did work together. Casey was a trained tracker.” Sighing she added, “At least I know she was taken care of after I left. I don’t yet know how my family took it.” She sipped at her lemonade once more.

  “Your parents did not live with you?”

  “No, Ambassador, not like on Vesar. My mother and father had a house several hundred kilometers southeast of me. I visited them once a year. We ... we were not really close ...”

  “But you did care for them?” Tolianksalya dipped his head to her lowered gaze. “You believed they missed you when you were gone?”

  “Yes, yes,” Dorinda stammered. “I do love them ... and miss them. My mother used to call every week, whether I wanted her to or not. She used to bug me about coming down to see her, about getting a
new man after my husband died. She didn’t want me to be alone.”

  “Your mother was wise,” Tolianksalya stated taking another sip of lemonade.

  Dorinda’s brow furrowed, and she glared at the dark man beside her. “Why’re you asking me all this? Because of me, your hated nephew’s still alive ... and in love. That must burn your heart to cinders.” Noah groaned in warning, but Dorinda held her ground.

  “It ... does not,” Tolianksalya admitted quietly. He set down his lemonade then stood. “I am ... attempting to understand.” He swung an open hand aside. “How you two could feel as you do ... about each other.”

  “So,” Dorinda uttered with dry sarcasm. “What have you gleaned so far?”

  Stepping away but turning to answer her, the ambassador nodded. “That you were both alone ... lonely before you met. You both possess strong wills and strong ties to a life of freedom. Both of you show a deep need for independence, yet serve others. You are adaptable, dedicated, and share a love of nature.” He paused before muttering, “I cannot explain the rest.” Tolianksalya shrugged and twisted his cloaked back to her, gesturing with his fists. “Brune is Vesar. His heritage is one of duty, honor, and violence. His Fury runs deep ... and it is unpredictable.”

  “But he’s kind and gentle, Ambassador,” Dorinda countered. “He’s thoughtful and courageous.”

  Tolianksalya spun on her. “He will kill you someday, Jade ... In a fit of Fury, uncontrolled. Brune will snap your neck like a tiolo twig.” He illustrated the scene with an imagined branch between his fists.

  Noah’s startled chirp made Dorinda flinch, but she braced her defenses. “No. He won’t.” She rose from the couch. “Vesarius is learning to control the Fury. He’s disciplined ... more so than many it seems.” Eyes narrowing suddenly, Dorinda asked, “Is that what bothers you, Ambassador? Has he become what you all along wished to be? Are you angry that you may have helped him become so? Has Vesarius gained what you never had? A conscience?”