by Laura Kaighn
Finally she found her voice. “What are you doing, Sarius? Did they capture the Vragjok?” Then she remembered. “You stunned me. You threatened to leave me on Orthop ... with Coty!” Launching herself off the deck, Dorinda rushed to the pilot’s seat. “Where’s Michael?”
“Alive,” Vesarius assured lowly. Setting a few controls, he had not turned to look at her. “Coty would jeopardize our plan.”
“What plan?” Dorinda demanded.
“That, Khumahn.” Vesarius pointed out the viewport.
Dorinda raised her eyes from him. Her mouth dropped. “No ...” she murmured when her voice returned. “You can’t.” The Pompeii was rapidly swelling out the portal.
“We need transport off-planet,” Vesarius explained spinning in his seat to regard her with cool coal eyes. “The ship will take us to a new world. The Great Oneness will be reborn.” This he added with a proud smile.
Horrified, Dorinda gasped, unable to stop her palm from slapping the Vesar hard across the cheek. “You’re not commandeering the Pompeii. Vesarius, you’ve been brainwashed. Don’t you realize what you’re doing?”
With hardly a flinch at his darkening cheek, Vesarius pivoted back to his controls. Over his shoulder he said, “Stun her, Gluctg. I must speak to the Pompeii for landing clearance.”
Dorinda’s world went black again.
Chapter 15: Infiltration
“Dori?” Someone called to her. “Dorinda, wake up.” There was a grave urgency in that voice that made her move her head ... and groan. “She’s coming around now,” that someone said.
Dorinda’s head was a thrumming hornets’ hive. Her throat was stuffed with flour. “Lonnie?” Her croaking query sounded raspy and barely audible.
“Keep still, Dori,” Dr. Sheradon advised. A pair of cool hands were on her cheeks. “You’ve been stunned twice in a short time. You’ll avoid nausea if you just lay still. No, don’t open your eyes yet,” Yolonda urged. “It’s bright in here. It’ll only hurt your head more.”
“Where?” Dorinda croaked again.
“We’re on the bridge,” Yolonda explained gravely. “Under guard, I’m afraid.”
Under guard? Why? Then she remembered. “Orthops!” Dorinda tried to sit up.
Yolonda held her steady. “Don’t move,” the doctor stressed. “Stun shock is not a pretty picture.”
“She will be all right?” a familiar voice inquired from Dorinda’s left.
“No thanks to you, Commander,” Sheradon spat. “Another such dose would have left her with permanent neural damage.”
“Sarius,” Dorinda whispered. “Why?” Her heart was jagged ice in her chest. She had to open her eyes, to witness what had become of the Pompeii’s crew. To know what Vesarius had done. Squinting at the overhead lights, Dorinda realized she lay on her back upon the deck. To her right, a concerned Zaneta Talyabo sat gazing down at her from the navigation station. Yolonda was seated beside Dorinda, holding her head and pouting. A dark welt was forming over the doctor’s left cheek. By moving her eyes only, Dorinda could just make out the figure seated at the Pompeii’s command station.
Vesarius gazed out the forward viewscreen. But at her stare, he moved his head to consider her. A callousness loomed behind those pitted eyes; Dorinda shivered involuntarily. “Why?”
The Vesar meerly blinked at the question. Did she see a flicker of remorse? Then he returned his gaze to the viewscreen and leaned away in the chair. It seemed she would be ignored.
“No,” Dorinda murmured and lowered her lids to this waking nightmare. She wished this to go away. She wanted to wake up and be on the real Pompeii, flying away from Orthop with Coty in command.
“Sshh,” Yolonda soothed. “Sleep, Dori. Rest.”
With silent tears and the doctor’s calm voice over her, Dorinda drifted into an oblivion free of nightmares. They returned only once she awoke several hours later. “Vesarius?” She rubbed her face and moved to sit up.
“Slowly, Dori,” Yolonda advised. “Here, drink this.”
Opening her haze-laden eyes, Dorinda swung her legs off her bunk then took the cup of water from her friend. She took several sips, careful not to guzzle as her throat wanted.
“Good, Dori. Just sips. How’s your head?”
Dorinda scrutinized the room before answering. They were alone in a security cell, in the Pompeii’s brig. “Packed with cotton, like my mouth,” she admitted. “What’s happened?”
Yolonda climbed from the bunk edge and began to pace the floor. “Vesarius’s taken control of the ship. Coty’s being held hostage on Orthop, and we’re en route to Tanaker II with the kidnapped queen in our transport bay.”
“The queen?” Hastily, Dorinda set the cup down and jumped to her feet. Swaying at her sudden light-headedness, she grabbed for the bunk edge. “I don’t understand. How could Vesarius do this, Lonnie? You said his brain scan was normal, the attempt to program him a failure.”
“Obviously, I was wrong.” With a sigh, the doctor crossed her arms and scowled. “Near as I can tell, the programming occurred during those violent REM periods. But by the time we figured it out, the deed was already done.” Sheradon shrugged and continued her pacing. “He seemed normal until the trip to the surface.” She snapped her fingers. “They must have set him off with some kind of a trigger or catalyst.”
“What can we do?” Dorinda fished her still sluggish brain for answers. “We need Vesarius to listen to reason. Coty and I are the only ones who could help him fight this programming.”
Sheradon nodded and poked a hand her way. “That’s exactly why Coty’s on Orthop, and you’re in the brig.” The doctor tossed her arms in frustration. “You’re only alive so Vesarius won’t fight the programming. They’re up there now ... calling each other hive brothers. I can’t believe this.” Yolonda’s arms flopped against her hips. “We’re helpless. Vesarius has all the officers under guard. All non-essentials are locked in their cabins unable to get out for food or water. They’ll be dead within two weeks.”
“Wait, Lonnie.” Dorinda stepped toward the locked door. “I’ll talk to our guard. He’ll let me see Sarius.”
“No he won’t,” Sheradon argued, her aggravation painting her cheeks crimson. “They’re not stupid, you know. Why else did the rebels murder the ambassador and his men? They knew how dangerous a group of Vesar warriors could be. Vesar aren’t only strong, they’re devious when they want to be. Those Orthops – Gluctg and his gang? They’ll kill Vesarius when they’re through with him. You do realize that.”
Dorinda’s face fell. “We’ve got to get out of here.” Then she remembered. “Lonnie, these are rebel Orthops. Their government must be appalled. They’ll send baseships after us to rescue their queen.”
Yolonda was shaking her head. “The Orthop government’s helpless. With their queen totally distracted and heading out of range of the home system, the remaining queenkeepers’ll be mindless bugs very soon. If they can manage to hatch a new queen in time, they’ll survive. But we’ll be long gone before they’ll launch a rescue. Besides,” Sheradon countered with grave finality, “as soon as we reach Tanaker II, we’re dead. We’ll be larvae pabulum once the queen starts laying eggs.”
Dorinda’s face chilled to ice. She shivered in frozen insight then sank back onto the bunk. “Where’s Noah?” she asked her hands a few moments later. Sheradon didn’t answer her. “Where’s Noah? And Tundra?” She raised flaming emeralds to her friend.
“Tundra and the other Kinpanions are locked in the arboretum,” the doctor admitted. “They’re the rebels’ food source for our trip. Two of Eva’s squirrels and three other Kin are already dead. It’ll only be hours before another one of those cockroaches gets hungry.”
“How long before we reach Tanaker?” Dorinda climbed to her feet once more. There had to be a way to take back the ship.
“Three days, maybe more.” Sheradon jerked her shoulders. “Why?”
“Are these cells bugged, Lonnie? Could Vesarius be listening in?
”
“Yes. Yes, he could.”
Frowning, Dorinda thought fast, eyes searching the surrounding cell. Nothing to write with. Then her eyes gleamed with sudden inspiration. “Lonnie, come here. Sit down on the bunk. Is there a surveillance camera?”
Nodding, Sheradon pointed up to the far corner of the cell above the petite bath facilities. There, set into the ceiling, a tiny surveillance eye blinked.
With a grim chin jerk, Dorinda motioned for Yolonda to face the eye. “I used to play this game as a child,” she explained sitting down behind the doctor. “Now pay attention. My finger’s a pen, your back the paper.” Swallowing, Dorinda gathered her thoughts. “I have an idea.”
Slowly she wrote her instructions out on Yolonda’s back, one word at a time. It took some practice – a slow deliberate scripting of the letters – but soon Dorinda and Dr. Sheradon were exchanging ideas and plans in silent confidence.
An hour later, they were ready. Sheradon gave a silent nod, and Dorinda went into her act. Grasping her head between open hands she groaned. “My head, Lonnie. It’s hurting again.”
“Lay down, Dori,” Dr. Sheradon suggested. “You need more rest. Here, on the bunk.” Dorinda settled onto her back, pillow beneath her disheveled auburn braid. “Close your eyes,” Sheradon directed. “A little more sleep’ll do you good.”
As Yolonda sat beside her, Dorinda shut her lids and concentrated, not on sleep, but on Noah’s round, nose-twitching face. The otter answered immediately with ecstatic urgency. Calming him with mental hand strokes, Dorinda pictured Tundra’s face in her mind. Where’s Tundra?
Noah quickly answered. The Alaskan malamute was close by and in a dangerous mood. It seemed Vesarius’ recent actions – leaving the dog aboard ship, the bridge mutiny, Coty’s abandonment – had confused the animal beyond reason. If the canine Kin was going to be of any help, Dorinda had to gain control of his mind.
With a deep sigh, Dorinda calmed her own breathing and reached out through Noah to that brooding, gray-eyed face. Tundra? Dorinda, projecting as clear a picture of her own face as she could, concentrated on getting the Alaskan malamute to answer her. They had been bonded once. The dog’s high PSY rating and hers together would take back the ship. Tundra must help her. She needed the Kinpanion to talk to the others. Tundra?
Slowly, Dorinda sensed a picture form in her mind, a question. Noah’s face. No, Tundra, it’s me, Dori. I’m talking to you. Not Noah. Finally there was realization, a tentative flicker of hope and enthusiasm. Good boy, Tundra!
Dorinda’s creased, closed lids felt hot under the pressure of her concentration. Someone moved beside her, left, then returned with a wet towel. Dr. Sheradon silently dabbed the sweat from Dorinda’s brow, cooling her triumph at reaching Tundra’s mind. There was still much work to be done.
Tundra? The Alaskan malamute answered almost immediately. Good, the dog was paying attention, using his own PSY skills to keep the link, strengthen it. Though Dorinda and Tundra were no longer bonded, there was an easy familiarity with their inner picture communication. The emotional bond and trust were still there.
Contact the others, Tundra, Dorinda commanded in her mind. This is what you must do ...
Slowly, picture-by-picture, Dorinda walked through the storyboard steps of her plan. With frequent questions as to comprehension, she was certain the dog understood her ideas. It would all be initiated, she told the malamute, when the Orthops returned to feed.
Sheradon estimated the number of Orthops at fifteen, perhaps a few more. Some drone soldiers were positioned in the transport bay attending to the massive, grub-like queen. Three queenkeepers were stationed on the bridge – well-armed, along with Vesarius who was in possession of Dorinda’s own plasma pistol. One Orthop drone stood guard outside the brig, another four on both levels of the crew’s quarters. Sheradon was certain there were sentries with Arabbi Tjon in the medical lab and with Jonas in engineering, as well as a pair posted outside the arboretum.
The Pompeii rescue objectives: The Kinpanions were to break out of the arboretum and split up. Like a furry assault force, the genetically enhanced animals were to raid the weapons’ stores, release the crew, and subdue the queen. It was the only way. If the Orthop queen could be tranquilized, her queenkeepers and drones would also be nullified.
That left only one other rebel, and he was Dorinda’s objective. She and Zaneta would together regain control of the bridge. Zan would then reverse the Pompeii’s course and return them to Orthop. Coty would be rescued, and the Pompeii could retreat to Alliance space in time for the captain to blow out his birthday candles.
The plan pivoted on the success of the Kin. Tundra was their leader, the most fluent communicator between species. He was also Dorinda’s link to the rest of the assault force and the Pompeii’s crew.
Laying supine upon the bunk, Dorinda rested while Sheradon cooled her heated brow with a wet cloth. They could not speak. Dorinda could only open her eyes and nod that the message had been understood. Now they had to wait ... wait for an Orthop’s gullet to crave fresh meat and entice him into the trap.
* * *
Another hour or more passed; Tundra had no real concept of time. But the wait inside the arboretum did much to quell his companions’ anxieties, especially Noah’s. The otter’s high-strung energy had him to waddling back and forth in a slinky pace along the garden path. Moxland’s tiger Kin Neesha was in the tree by the entry door, at times impatiently scraping at the bark with her razor-tipped claws. Two more Kin – a squirrel and badger – were busy beneath digging a hole in the dark soil. Sumatra, Dr. Tjon’s orangutan, followed Tundra’s picture storyboard. From the control panel by the exit, she dimmed the arboretum lights with deft, hairy digits. Tundra, Noah, and Sumatra now waited beside that door, prepared to rush the sentries outside as soon as an insect diner was past.
Each with its own job beyond the arboretum, the collective Kin Companions awaited Tundra’s command to implement their jailbreak. Opportunity came when a blinding brightness from the outer corridor announced a hungry visitor sometime later. The Orthop paused at the entrance, then took a tentative step inside, its towering frame rising past the shorter doorjamb. In that moment, Neesha screamed and launched her muscular body atop the invader. Tiger claws swiped a deadly blow to the creature’s eyestalks.
Before the Orthop could raise its razor-edged foreclaws to defend itself, it was blind and toppling forward into the ditch beneath the tree. With a sharp bark, Tundra rushed past the dying intruder. The dog twisted about a pair of Orthop legs then leaped between foreclaws to chomp down on the retracting eyestalks of the guard outside. Noah chittered his readiness, braced his slinky frame against the widened doorjamb, and watched as an animal’s ark jostled past him. In a wave of feathers and fur, the Kinpanions quickly spread into the corridor.
* * *
“Lonnie!” Dorinda called suddenly awake. She had sensed Noah’s urgency. Sitting up in bed, she gulped her own anxiety aside. Dorinda closed her eyes and concentrated on the scene one level above them. Tundra was out with Sumatra heading for the medical lab and Dr. Tjon. There, the band would gather a potent store of tranquilizers and a heavy-duty dart rifle then make their way to the transport bay. Arabbi Tjon knew where the hidden weapons stores were outside the sickbay. Sumatra had already told her to be ready to retrieve them.
Noah was on his way to the brig with the otter Kite to release Dorinda and Sheradon. From there, an access tube down the hall would take Dorinda straight up five levels to the bridge and Cmdr. Tankawankanyi. Tundra imaged to Dorinda Neesha’s whereabouts. The tiger was swiftly padding through the corridors smashing door locks as she went. Once her Bondmate Moxland Darby was freed, the communication’s officer retrieved Dorinda’s plans from the tiger and gathered her crewmates for an armed assault on the queen’s guards.
With a swiftness only Kin could maintain, armed crewmembers were soon making short work of the scattered and disoriented Orthop invaders. The hardest job, however, was
still ahead. The queen and the bridge had to be taken simultaneously. And Dorinda was unarmed. Panting and sweating inside the access tube, she awaited Tundra’s signal to rush the bridge with its three queenkeepers. Noah informed Dorinda that Sheradon was on her way via the magnelift. Victory was only a matter of minutes now.
Dorinda calmed her heart and slowed her breathing. Vesarius had taught her to think first before acting. Her mind must be clear of trepidation. There was no room for panic, or death would result.
Dorinda’s only advantage was Vesarius. He wouldn’t kill her. The Orthops would also hesitate to do so. They still needed Vesarius, free of Fury, to pilot the ship. He alone, among the mutineers, knew the workings of the Pompeii.
If only Dorinda could warn Zaneta Talyabo. But the computer expert was at the navigation console guarded by an Orthop; and Zan had no Kin. There was no way Dorinda could prepare her for what she must do. Dorinda must trust Zaneta’s instincts.
Then the image came through. Noah and Yolonda Sheradon had entered the lift to the bridge, Yolonda with a ready plasma pistol. Though a multi-phase rifle would have been the more effective weapon against Orthop carapace, it would also blow apart the delicate workings of the Pompeii’s brain center. The doctor was to distract, and be deadly accurate with her aim. Sheradon must hit the creatures in the eyes or mouth.
The scene was set in motion with no chance for revision. And ... there was only one chance for success. Tundra signaled his readiness outside the transport bay. Noah signaled his and Sheradon’s willingness from one level below the bridge.
Dorinda breathed once more. Now! Mentally Dorinda counted the seconds for Sheradon to arrive from the lift. One, two, three, four, five. Pow! A plasma blast!
