Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  Dorinda heaved herself up the last rung, and the access door slid aside. In one smooth motion, she dived through to roll into a crouch. Her goal was standing not two meters away, obsidian eyes incensed at Sheradon’s unexpected intrusion. But the command chair was between Dorinda and Vesarius ... and an Orthop had observed her entrance.

  Only one chance! Dorinda prayed Yolonda was not readying her pistol for another shot in her direction. With a surging shove, Dorinda launched herself into the air. Sailing over the command seat, she crashed into her Vesar friend. Together they tumbled to the floor.

  Their eyes made contact. Dorinda saw his rage. “You!” he roared from beneath her. Vesarius tossed Dorinda easily aside. He was on his boots a second later as Dorinda rolled away from his muscular arms. She had failed to pinch the nerve at the back of his skull, the one that would have left the warrior woozy. Now she’d have to fight him. With all the skills of judo she had learned so far, coupled with her meditative training, Dorinda readied herself for Vesarius’ advance. “I should have let them kill you,” he snarled. His body tensed for an aggressive assault.

  “You don’t mean that, Sarius,” Dorinda panted her voice inwardly trembling. She must sound calm, even peaceful, if she were to reach the real warrior beneath the turmoil. Dorinda had to tap that personality which loved her, remind the man who had assured her safety. “Your promise. A warrior’s promise never to harm me. Your honor, Sarius,” Dorinda reasoned. “You’d never jeopardize your honor.”

  “I am a warrior. Orthop brothers!” Vesarius called, his coal eyes smoldering at his insect companions. “I cannot risk my honor.”

  There was hesitation in his battle stance, frustration behind his burning sight now, a pain Dorinda almost relaxed before. Then Noah squealed a warning from the lift, and Dorinda saw a flashing image of foreclaw behind her. Ducking under that hard snap, Dorinda twisted away from her attacker and into Vesarius’ waiting arms.

  “No! Do not harm her.” Vesarius tightened his grip about her waist.

  “Vesarius,” Dorinda spouted. “They’ll kill all of us. As soon as we reach Tanaker, we’re food for their young.”

  “Our young, Khumahn,” Vesarius clarified, his face mahogany stone.

  Now she tried to wriggle from the Vesar’s steel grasp. “No! You’re not one of them. You’re a Vesar warrior ... And they’ll kill you too when they don’t need you anymore. Once we reach Tanaker!” Dorinda finally slipped from his slackened grip. Had she made progress?

  From the open lift, Sheradon fired again. An Orthop must have aimed for Dorinda as she ducked beneath the Vesar’s arms. At her periphery, Dorinda next noticed her abandoned pistol beside Coty’s chair. Vesarius had dropped it when she’d tackled him. With another desperate dive and roll, her palm cradled the weapon.

  Dorinda snapped off a shot past Vesarius’ tensed shoulder. The plasma pulse bashed into an Orthop’s power rifle. With a booming concussion, the rifle exploded in the creature’s grasp. Dorinda curled from the flying shrapnel. A grinding roar arose from the shredded maw of the dying beast.

  “No!” Vesarius bellowed clutching at his skull. “Brother!” The wounded creature tipped forward onto the deck.

  Dorinda next had to stun her friend. But as she moved to reset her weapon, Gluctg snatched her bodily off the deck. She yelped as the Orthop’s claw joint dug into her wrist. Hanging helpless, she braced her weight with clutching desperation, tossing her left arm over the Orthop’s arching foreclaw. Grimacing, she twisted numbing fingers to aim the pistol at her attacker.

  “Brother,” her assailant grated. “We must kill this one for the good of the hive. Do you agree?”

  “Sarius, no!” Dr. Sheradon barked from the magnelift. The third Orthop fired into that cubby. Yolonda hollered, hunching against the deadly assault.

  “Lonnie!” Dorinda watched the lift door shut. She was alone with monsters.

  “I will make her death swift,” Gluctg said. The Orthop raised its other foreclaw to encircle Dorinda’s straining neck.

  “Sarius!” Dorinda pleaded. Tears of pain and terror slid from her creased, emerald eyes. “Your promise.” The Orthop’s razored limb tilted toward her throat.

  “No!” Vesarius roared. His knees buckled under the strain. His mahogany face twisted in agonized conflict.

  Then Dorinda was crashing to the ground. Gluctg released her amid a grating shriek. Instantly a whiskered mouth was snatching the pistol from Dorinda’s useless hand. Noah clawed at the trigger then squealed as the plasma gun fired. The bolt lanced through Gluctg’s clacking maw. Mandibles swinging on shattered hinges, the Orthop leader gurgled an indiscernible plea before toppling. Noah yipped, his tail flattened beneath that crushing, cream-colored bulk.

  Clutching her broken wrist to her chest, Dorinda could only watch through tear-entombed eyes, grateful her Kin had so bravely stayed to help. “Noah,” she gasped when her voice returned. “Thank you.” Groaning his discomfort at the weight upon his appendage, the otter nonetheless leaned his chin upon Dorinda’s leg. He trilled his happiness at their success.

  Then a deeper groan from the command station drew their attention. Someone else was still alive. “Sarius?” The Vesar gave no answer. Grimacing at the aches in her tortured body, the pounding in her skull, and the sharp pulses from her shattered wrist, Dorinda slowly rolled to her feet. She stumbled to the command deck then collapsed beside her friend.

  Sprawled on his back, spine arched, Vesarius clutched at his neck in some private agony.

  “Vesarius, I’m here,” Dorinda soothed brushing loose strands of raven hair from his creased forehead. “Can you hear me?” Those ebony eyes, so often steady with courage or almond with tenderness, were now spheres of unseeing terror. Leaning over him, Dorinda could not get the Vesar to focus on her face or track her stroking hand. “Vesarius, it’s over. They’re not controlling you anymore.”

  “I think they are,” Zaneta Talyabo offered from the Pompeii’s navigation station. There she clutched her arm against her side, lips tight with pain. “Look at the last Orthop.” Zan motioned with her chin across the bridge where Sam Waters sat pressing back blood from a thigh wound. The remaining insect guard towered over him, frozen in mid-aim. Its power rifle was poised to blast the Vesar where he had stood just moments before. “They didn’t need us anymore, Jade. Vesarius had shown them how to fly the ship. They would’ve killed him if Noah hadn’t taken out their leader drone.”

  “No, Zan,” Dorinda countered. She cradled the Vesar’s rigid head in her lap. “The queen stopped Gluctg. They’re all mindless now because she’s in a coma. Dr. Tjon shot her with enough tranquilizer to bring down a herd of elephants.”

  “And the commander’s in the same state?” Zaneta asked rising from her chair. She moved to stand beside Dorinda.

  “Yes.” A tear slipped from Dorinda’s cheek. Vesarius didn’t even flinch when the salty droplet splattered alongside his unseeing eye. “Just like the Orthops, without their queen. He’ll die.”

  “No he won’t,” someone assured from the open magnelift. Dr. Arabbi Tjon strode onto the bridge with her medical crew. With the Indian doctor’s nod, they dispersed to evaluate the carnage.

  Dorinda focused on Arabbi’s attentive gaze as the Pompeii’s locum tenens knelt beside her Vesar companion. “Lonnie,” Dorinda demanded in sudden panic. “Where’s Lonnie?”

  “In the medical bay being prepped for surgery. She suffered a ruptured spleen,” Arabbi informed.

  “She’ll bleed to death.” Dorinda’s medical training kicked in to evaluate the diagnosis.

  Tjon was shaking her dark head as she reached to find the Vesar’s pulse. “In this century we have spray coagulants. The wound’s sealed.” Arabbi scanned the bridge for the Pompeii’s head nurse. “John, give me a hand with the commander. I can’t get a pulse.”

  “He’s dead?” Dorinda blurted. Sudden panic cracked her already unsteady voice.

  “No, his hands have a vise grip. I cannot remove them t
o check his carotid.”

  Nurse John Igoni left his station with Zaneta and hopped down beside the Vesar. Kneeling, he attempted to pry the stiffened digits from the commander’s neck.

  “Never mind, John,” Arabbi mumbled in her deep accent. She slid her fingers in through Vesarius’ tunic collar to sense the pulsing vessels along the warrior’s chest ridges. With a grim shake of her dark-haired head, Dr. Tjon confirmed what Dorinda was already starting to suspect. “Accelerated shock. His pulse rate is up to one-forty-three.”

  “We need to get him to medical,” Dorinda urged. Awkwardly she climbed to her feet in the crowded space of bodies. Using her good hand, she tried to tug her Vesar friend from the deck.

  “No, Jade. We’ll do it,” Tjon instructed rising also. “You’re injured.” With a guiding hand, Tjon turned Dorinda toward the lift.

  “Wait!” Dorinda froze in mid-stride. Her searching eyes found the ship’s computer specialist. “Zan, turn the ship around. We have to rescue Michael.”

  With a crooked smile and one last check of the snug bandage about her injured arm, Zaneta Talyabo assured, “Already done. I’ve got the con, and a replacement bridge crew’s on its way up here. I’ll have Moxland hail Orthop to see if they need our assistance.”

  With a nod of gratitude, Dorinda followed Tjon’s nurses out. Their hefty Vesar burden dangled from straining arms. On level four, a hovering gurney awaited the warrior to transport him to Dr. Sheradon’s domain.

  Dorinda’s otter Kin mewed his utter relief when, minutes later, she relaxed beneath the healing warmth of a bone knitter device. “I feel much better now, Noah. Thank you.” Smiling tiredly, Dorinda stretched out her good hand from the bed to stroke the Kinpanion’s bobbing skull. “You’re so brave. You saved my life, Slink.” With a shrill whistle of nervous release, Noah scrambled up onto a chair then the bed. He contentedly curled atop Dorinda’s pillow to groom himself.

  “Good news, Jade,” John Igoni announced as he strode past her with an armful of surgical gowns. “Dr. Sheradon’s going to be fine.” The nurse practitioner walked to the sonic cleaning unit. “Dr. Tjon says the wound was cauterized by the plasma fire. All she need do is remove the spleen, suction off the spill, and plaster Yolonda with synthoskin.” Igoni dumped his scrubs into the bin and pivoted back the way he’d come. “A cloned organ can be introduced within another day.”

  “What about Vesarius?” Dorinda inquired as Igoni moved to continue his rounds.

  The blond-haired man shrugged hesitantly. “The same.” When Dorinda’s eyes creased in concern, Igoni slowed his trek to offer her a cheery grin. “But he’s stabilized. Dr. Tjon’ll be attending to him next.”

  “How long?” She blurted before the nurse disappeared.

  Another shrug. “Whenever she’s through in surgery.”

  Dorinda lay contemplating the nurse’s words. The surviving Orthops were being hauled down to the transport bay. The anteroom was to be sealed off after that. And if the queen so much as twitched from her drug-induced stupor, Brend had orders to open the bay doors to space. None would survive; they would all be sucked into the blackness of a starry grave. But with Vesarius linked to the hive, he too might die as surely as if the warrior were to join that icy funeral.

  With a quick sigh of apprehension, Dorinda rolled from the bed careful not to jar her broken wrist. After shutting off the bone knitter and shushing Noah’s mewling protests, Dorinda stiffly trudged in search of her friend.

  She found Vesarius in an intensive care stall adjacent to where she could hear Dr. Tjon busy saving Sheradon’s life. Silently, Dorinda slipped into the Vesar’s cubby. Someone had forced his arms from his neck and closed the warrior’s unfocused, fear-stricken eyes. Dorinda could almost imagine him peacefully asleep had not every muscle of the man’s body shuddered. His limbs were restrained to the bed with wide straps.

  “Sarius? Can you hear me? You’ve got to break free from their hold. Gluctg’s dead,” Dorinda asserted quietly. “He’s no longer controlling you. You have to remember who you are ... a warrior, Vesarius. A Vesar warrior.”

  Lovingly she stroked his hair. She lowered her lips to his trembling mouth. Brushing her warm kiss past those unyielding mounds of flesh, Dorinda felt a shiver trace the back of her neck. It was as if a mannequin lay upon the bed. The skin was warm, even hot to the touch, but the Vesar’s mind was nowhere near his quavering body.

  “Vesarius, you’ve got to come back. You’re not of the hive. You belong with me.” Dorinda’s voice caught in a sudden sob. “What about the bonding? Tolianksalya’s dead, but I think he was going to grant you Vwafar´ee. He wanted to understand how we felt about each other. He even admitted,” Dorinda murmured, “that he’d been wrong to hate you. He was going to retire ... to Vesar Prime and his wife. Enjoy his grandchildren, his son ...”

  Dorinda now found she couldn’t speak through the sobs that caught in her throat. Gasping out her garbled words, she desperately tried to contact her mate. “I want to ... to have ... your son, Sarius.” Dorinda choked, not even sure if she understood what she was saying.

  Then her composure crumbled. Leaning against his unyielding torso, Dorinda hugged Vesarius fiercely. She wept into his leather tunic, unaware of the pounding ache in her wrist or the compassionate gaze of Arabbi Tjon and Jonas Botrocelli beyond the stall.

  “Take her, Jonesey,” Arabbi instructed quietly. “I need to run a complete scan on the commander, see if I can find where the neural block is located.”

  With a grim nod, the Pompeii’s engineer sidled forward to gently pry Dorinda free from Tjon’s other patient. “No, I want to be with him,” Dorinda gasped. She didn’t fight Jonas’ calm grip and soothing voice as he led her away. “Sarius.”

  Jonas escorted Dorinda back to her medical bunk and sat beside her, his arm consolingly around her shoulder. “Arabbi’ll do all she can, Jade,” the engineer assured between her snuffles. “If she needs you, we’ll be right here.”

  “He can’t die, Master Jonas. He can’t.”

  “You two’ve been trying to hide all this from us, but we all knew.” Jonas smiled. “It’s been some time since we’ve had little ones racing about these corridors. I’d welcome the chance to teach your son how to run the ship, have him nosing around my engines. It’s due time the commander started a family.”

  With a great gulping sigh, Dorinda sank into Jonas’ welcoming arms. So Vesarius had been wrong. The Pompeii was ready to welcome them ... as a couple. The observation lounge would indeed be a fine place for a wedding. “Thank you,” she mumbled into the man’s shirt. Dorinda sniffled noisily and smiled through her tears. “He was so afraid you’d all disapprove.”

  “How could we?” Jonas murmured into her hair. “Vesarius has family here. And you’re such a joy to have around. We couldn’t be happier about it. Just don’t go slipping off to Vesar Prime without us. Coty wants to be best man, and I’m going to give away the bride.”

  Dorinda pushed herself away. “Michael!” Her reddened eyes were again stricken. “When’ll we reach Orthop? We’ve got to rescue -”

  Jonas was beaming his Italian, dimpled grin. “Coty’s fine. Moxie contacted the Orthop homeworld. Seems the high chancellor anticipated trouble. He had a new queen hatched and maturing even before the established queen was kidnapped. The captain’s on his way here now aboard an Orthop baseship.” The engineer shrugged noncommittally. “Should be arriving in an hour or so. We’ll dock, and you can personally ask him about the observation lounge.”

  “What ...? How did you know?” Dorinda’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  With a half-smile, Jonas winked. “It’s where all our weddings are held. And Coty’s the ship’s commander-in-chief, so he’ll conduct the ceremony.”

  “But what about Sarius?” The panic was creeping in again. They were talking as if her mate were in the other room simply enjoying an afternoon nap.

  “Jade,” Arabbi Tjon called from the intensive care unit. With a leap from the bed, Dorinda
was skidding to a halt outside Vesarius’ stall a moment later.

  Tjon motioned her inside where the Indian doctor held a bio-scanner against the Vesar’s rigid neck. “Look at these readings.”

  Sidling up beside the shorter woman, Dorinda considered Vesarius’ elevated blood pressure and heart rate. Then she scrutinized the magnified, X-ray-like scan of his spine. “What’s that?” Dorinda pointed to a small, odd-shaped nodule which seemed to be lodged in her friend’s spinal column just below his hairline.

  “I’d say it’s an organic implant, a control device made of living tissue. I might not have noticed it had I not thought to look closely at his vertebrae. Vesarius had a death grip on that thing when he collapsed. Dug out some skin with his nails trying to get at it.”

  “Can you remove it?”

  With a grave nod, Tjon asserted, “It’ll be a little tricky. If that thing is actually alive, it may just wriggle its way somewhere else before I reach it.”

  “What can I do?”

  Sighing, Tjon shut off the scanner. Her lilting, deep accent was compassionate. “You can hold his hand while I conduct the surgery. Interested?”

  With a nervous smile, Dorinda nodded once. “You bet.”

  Vesarius was prepped for surgery. Stripped of his sandsuit, he was rotated onto his stomach so the organic implant could more easily be extracted from the Vesar’s spinal column. A full-body scanner next swept the warrior’s entire frame before Dr. Tjon began her work.

  Dorinda observed as the doctor sliced open the mottled mahogany skin and peeled it back to expose the red, rich muscle and calcium-white bone of Vesarius’ neck vertebrae. Delicately the doctor probed past the carotid artery, aware of the life-giving blood within. In an hour, with the help of an optical bio-scanner, Arabbi Tjon had located and extracted the pinky-nail-sized device and sealed the incision with synthoskin.

  “Now we leave him alone,” the doctor advised and dimmed the overhead floater lights.