by Laura Kaighn
“Watch, Dori,” Coty warned softly as Vesarius froze for his stand against the mechanical beast. The Vesar’s blade was poised in his right hand, left held out for balance. The warrior’s smooth, mahogany skin streamed with dusty sweat.
The assassin rolled forward on miniature treads, its multiple arms sporting various weapons, all gleaming, all deadly. From the machine’s barrel-shaped torso sprouted sensor units stationed around its circumference at waist height and again along its upper edge. It stood two meters tall and trundled into full view once it had homed in on its target.
“How does he defend himself?” Dorinda asked urgently.
“There’s no single way. And they don’t seem to have a single weak spot,” Coty resigned. “I’ve never seen one like this. It’s got eyes all around it.”
“Oh, Sarius, be careful,” Dorinda crooned clutching her heart and watching helplessly as the robotic assassin shortened the distance between it and its prey.
Eyeing its every move, Vesarius seemed to be scrutinizing the device’s abilities. Then the thing rushed forward weapons wielding for blows. Vesarius dove out of its path. Dorinda hissed at the Vesar’s rough landing and the robot’s quick pivot to intercept. “Watch out!”
Again Vesarius dodged, just avoiding one sweeping appendage armed with a clamping claw. Rolling to his boots, Vesarius brandished his feeble blade as the automaton dashed again, its deadly arms reaching, grasping. Vesarius stumbled backward in the sand, almost lost his balance then dived aside.
This time the assassin was there to intercept him. Expertly it slashed sideways with its bladed arm. Dorinda yelped as Vesarius hit the sand roughly clutching his side.
“Stop this!” she pleaded when the machine spun to attack again while the Vesar was still down.
“That’s enough!” Coty blurted a second later. The captain spun on his fellow Vesar witnesses. The bureaucrats ignored the human pair. Instead, their pitted eyes were glued to the battle in the sand beyond Dorinda’s stiff frame. She gawked as the automaton sustained its offensive, Vesarius backing up, twisting aside then jostling away. “High Chancellor,” she heard Coty’s gruff voice plead. “You must not allow this to continue.”
“No!” Dorinda screamed.
Beside her, Coty spun to see what had caused her outburst. Vesarius, arms pinned to the ground, hollered in fury as a needlelike blade pierced his bicep. In a flash of metal, the dirk retracted. Then the robot withdrew. With a grimace of painful reality, Vesarius bowled away and stumbled to his boots.
“A poisoned blade,” Coty informed grimly. “With no antidote.”
“Will it kill him?” Dorinda’s voice was petal soft and rimmed with cold defeat. Her eyes were locked on the floundering Vesar who still held his knife for defense, but was quickly losing his grip. Hunched-shouldered, he braced his right side where ochre blood oozed free.
“Yes,” Coty affirmed resignedly. “It takes only minutes.”
Dorinda’s jaw tightened to granite. “I’m going down there.” She spun for the exit.
“Dori, no. Wait!”
Dorinda’s smaller size and greater agility helped her avoid the rows of seats in the observation booth better than her captain. She was instantly outside leaping over the guardrail and stumbling back to her feet three meters below.
“Dori, the assassin!” Coty barked from above. The machine had seen her and was frozen in place. Menacingly, it waved its deadly appendages in glinting arcs.
“Dori!” Vesarius called. His knees wobbled beneath him. Orange-red liquid spackled his clutching palm and splattered the sand at his feet. “Stay back,” he entreated.
“I must go to him,” Dorinda warned the mechanical beast even as it rolled to block her path. “Vesarius!”
Buckled onto hands and knees now, the warrior raised pain-stricken eyes to his human wife. “Green Eyes,” he panted. “Go … back. It … will kill you.”
“I don’t care,” Dorinda croaked. She clenched her teeth against the onslaught of blinding tears and marched forward. The assassin held its ground, weapons twirling. Then a plasma bolt zinged past Dorinda’s side. Hitting the robot full in the barrel, it sizzled out against the machine’s armored plating.
“Dori!” Coty yelled. His voice was close. He, too, had made the leap into the arena. The captain fanned out to the assassin’s right and fired his plasma pistol again. “Quickly, Dori!” he instructed as the automaton rolled to intercept her friend.
Understanding, Dorinda bolted for Vesarius while the machine was distracted. She slid to her husband’s side just as he collapsed to the sand, eyes fluttering shut. “No. Sarius!” Dorinda shrieked. Kneeling, she hauled him onto his back and bent over him. “Sarius, hold on. I’m here!” She stroked his jaw with one dusty hand. Her tears swelled, smattering his grimy face now slack and unresponsive. “No!” Metallic assassin forgotten, Dorinda clutched her husband to her breast.
Swiftly people bustled around her. Mahogany arms hauled Dorinda away. Sobbing lowly, she had no strength. One medic held her upright where she would have collapsed powerless. The rest hovered over Vesarius’ flaccid form like vultures on a bloody carcass.
“Dorinda?” came an impassioned call.
“Michael ... he’s dead,” she whimpered seeing her captain’s slumped-shouldered stance through glassy tears. “Oh, he’s dead.”
“Not breathing,” one medic announced.
“His heart has stopped,” confirmed another.
A third raised his eyes to the observation booth with its Vesar magistrates. “Done,” he confirmed into the mike at his collar.
“Again, complete success!” the arena announcer proclaimed a second later. A third hullabaloo roared from the crowd.
“Barbarians!” Dorinda bawled and wriggled free of her supporting attendant. Stomping forward, Dorinda kicked the medics away from her husband’s battered body. The deep gash at Vesarius’ side still seeped mahogany-orange blood into the earth. “Get away from him, you ... you freaks!” She shoved another medic aside.
“Dori, stop it!” Coty admonished suddenly at her shoulder.
“No!” She kicked dust at a fourth attendant.
“Dorinda!” The captain snatched her arm and hauled her back. “Stop!” Her anguished countenance melted at that demand, and she collapsed against him. Folding his dusty arms around her, Coty mumbled into her hair, “It’s too late.”
Then they were being led away. Vesarius’ body was lifted onto a hover sled and whisked to medical facilities. All the while Coty supported her; Dorinda had no energy left to stand. “You should have let it kill me too,” she murmured between sobs.
“It never attacked,” Coty countered. “Sule knows it had time, but it never actually rushed either of us.” Coty’s voice was low and desiccated, and he wiped away several fractured tears. “Damned Vesar honor,” Dorinda heard him swear under his breath.
They were escorted to their guest quarters in the administration building. Dorinda sat enveloped by Coty’s supporting embrace. As he rocked her silently, the Orthop high chancellor came to offer his deepest regrets.
“The Vesar have told me nothing,” the insect dignitary conceded through the translator at his throat. The Orthop’s eyestalks sagged. “I am in as much shock as you, Little One.”
“I don’t blame you,” Dorinda mumbled from Coty’s shoulder. She raised her bloodshot, puffy eyes to the Orthop magistrate. “You were manipulated as much as we were.”
“I must leave you now, Little Creatures,” the Orthop clicked. “Judgment for the storyteller is to be made in the main courtroom. The verdict will surprise no one. The demonstration was a complete success.” Bowing his foreclaws, the Orthop moved to leave. “I offer you my every sympathies.”
“Wait, High Chancellor,” Dorinda blurted shoving her weary frame from the couch. She sniffled and straightened her stained silken tunic. “Might we accompany you? The ... verdict concerns us as well.”
“Dori? Are you sure?” Coty asked rising also.
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br /> “Yes, by all means, Little One,” the Orthop agreed. “I would be grateful to have your two familiar fleshy faces with me.”
Coty took Dorinda’s arm and followed the chancellor. They found the courtroom filling with mahogany bodies. The high chancellor, however, guided them to the front seats, reserved for immediate family and key witnesses. Dorinda figured she was the best example of both. The high chancellor then left them to squeeze behind the judge’s bench and settle onto his hind legs, a giant among warriors.
Within minutes, the two Vesar judges arrived as Dorinda dried her eyes and cleared her stuffy nose. The Vesar magistrates sat to either side of the Orthop dignitary and before the now familiar faces of Vesar bureaucracy. They were all witnesses now, Dorinda realized with irony. Witnesses of Vesarius’ utter failure and the command chip’s ultimate triumph.
Once everyone was present, Judge Daratowke´tyo clapped his gavel for silence. “The time is right for judgment, Mesdames and Vesariuses,” he announced gravely. “There is one more voice for the ruling, however. One directly involved with its outcome.” Turning toward the bailiff he nodded. “Let the arbiter in.” With an echoing nod, the bailiff punched the door release and a tall, lithe figure strode in. Dorinda raised apathetic eyes to the visitor. Then her brain registered recognition. “Madame Tolianksalya,” Daratowke´tyo addressed. “You have heard the evidence. You have witnessed the demonstration of this control device. What is your verdict?”
Ambassador Tolianksalya’s widow raised her squared, dignified jaw. She glanced toward her murdered husband’s surviving underling. In the front far corner of the courtroom, Domenazreli crossed his arms and gloated. “Cmdr. Tankawankanyi, of the GAV Pompeii, is innocent of the charge of murder.”
Dorinda saw Domenazreli straighten in his chair and glower disapprovingly; but for once the scarred warrior kept his tongue.
“Thank you, Madame Tolianksalya,” the other judge said with a slight bow of his chin. “Now, it is the verdict of this court which will determine Tankawankanyi’s fate. A pardon, execution or exile.”
Dorinda’s spine snapped straight also. Pardon? Execution or exile? How could they talk this way after-the-fact? Was tradition so ingrained in them that the Vesar wouldn’t even acknowledge her husband’s death?
“Bailiff, bring in the accused.”
“No!” Dorinda blurted, expecting her husband’s stiffened corpse to be dragged into the room. Instead the door slid aside, and a grimy Vesar stepped in, slashed shoulders braced for his future. A stained bandage was wrapped snugly about his bare torso. Another encircled his mahogany bicep. “Sarius!” Dorinda yelped scrambling forward before Coty could stop her. In fact, they both reached the Vesar’s side together.
“The poison!” Coty gasped.
Smiling tiredly, Vesarius offered the obvious solution. “There was no poison.”
“But you were dead. They announced it.”
Nodding, Vesarius agreed, “I was. My reality was such that I felt the poison. Died of it in fact.”
“It was all in the programming!” Dorinda blurted grasping the plan.
Again Vesarius nodded. “As they said – a complete success.”
“Alliance citizens,” the second Vesar judge interrupted. “There is still a verdict to be announced.”
Dorinda entwined her fingers in her husband’s and gently leaned against his injured side. Tears of joy now glistened her sight as she awaited the judgment. “I love you,” she murmured for his ears only. No matter what the sentence, he was at least alive for her to tell him so.
“Before these witnesses,” Daratowke´tyo boomed, “we pronounce you, Cmdr. Tankawankanyi, innocent of murder and treason. You are free to return to your Alliance duty station.”
“Thank you, Sirs,” Vesarius snapped bowing stiffly even as Dorinda laughed her relief and jumped to hug him. “Please, Dori,” he groaned. “I am rather sore.” Though she apologized, there was a tilted smirk upon his dark lips when she flinched to release him. Around them, the judges and attendants rose and began to file from the courtroom.
“Oh, Sarius. I do love you ... as Brahmanii loved Her children.” Dorinda hugged him again.
“Spend little time rejoicing,” a growling voice boomed over the happiness. “There is still vengeance to be reaped.” Domenazreli lurked beyond the gallery seats as the room quickly emptied of curious eyes.
Dorinda gasped. She had forgotten Domenazreli’s revenge code, instated during Vesarius’ arrest. “Wait! He’s in no shape to fight,” she argued from where she hung upon her husband.
Vesarius’ shoulders sagged marginally beneath Dorinda’s embrace. “I have no choice, Dori. I must fight him.”
Dorinda slid from his grasp. “To the death?” Her voice betrayed her trepidation.
“Yes, to the death,” Domenazreli announced striding forward, power rippling every muscle. “I choose the place and weapon. It is my right.”
Bowing his head slightly, Vesarius asked, “Then where?”
“The Quei´tarr, tomorrow. With grentdent staffs and gear.”
Again that slight nod. “I am grateful for the time, Domenazreli. I am in need of a night’s rest.”
“I await you,” his opponent rumbled. “Oh-eight hundred.”
“Very well,” Vesarius answered.
Dorinda watched the ambassador’s former recorder march vitally from the room. “Sarius, he’ll kill you,” she warned as the three of them walked together toward the complex’s guest quarters.
“I do not plan to be killed,” Vesarius countered tiredly. “Not again.”
Coty suddenly froze in mid-step to grasp his first officer’s arm. “Wait. They did remove the chip, didn’t they?” Dorinda shared her captain’s grave concern.
Vesarius smirked. “If you are fretful of further mind control, be assured. It was removed while I was still being stabilized after my death.”
“You really were dead?” Dorinda’s eyes still burned from her former grief.
“I was,” Vesarius confirmed, “but quickly revived.” He hugged her to his side. “There is no permanent damage.”
“Patched you up to throw you back into the lion’s den tomorrow,” Dorinda huffed, unwilling to let him go.
Vesarius chuckled as they strode on. “I promised you no boring life.”
Sighing, Dorinda slumped in his grasp. “I need a vacation.”
Coty chuckled also. “We all do.” Then the captain’s eyes jumped. “Hey, you two are supposed to be on your honeymoon.”
“Oh, yeah!” Dorinda groaned one arm hooked around her husband’s waist. “Some honeymoon.”
“Well,” Coty countered quietly. “He doesn’t go back to work until tomorrow morning. You still have tonight.”
Dorinda guffawed at the prospect. “My husband’s in no shape to fight. He certainly can’t make love.”
“Why not?” Vesarius chimed in.
Dorinda’s eyes swelled. “Sarius! You might get killed tomorrow because of that goon.”
“All the more reason,” Coty and Vesarius countered together.
Gasping at their audacity, Dorinda slapped them each on the arm. “No. And shut up. Both of you. This isn’t a joke. Vesar honor’s at stake and so’s my husband’s life. I’ll not sleep a wink ... ever.”
They had arrived at their designated quarters. Dorinda saw Coty exchange a raised brow with his first officer. “I can return to the Pompeii. Leave you two alone,” he suggested. “They provided us only one room.”
“We’ll share it,” Dorinda insisted hooking her arm about Coty’s as well. “I’m not letting either of my men out of my sight.” Then she conceded their prudence. “But you should call up to the ship, Michael.” Dorinda released them to open the door. “Yolonda’s probably worried stiff for all of us.”
“And the Kin are eager to be allowed planetside,” Vesarius acknowledged.
“That’s a Roger,” Coty asserted. “You two go in ahead. I’ll be back after I’ve checked in with Zaneta.�
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“All right.” Dorinda leaned to kiss her captain on the cheek. “You know I love you.”
“Yes.” Coty blinked and palmed the now moist site on his bronzed face. He left them.
“Truthfully,” Vesarius admitted when he had stridden into their guest room and considered the two full-sized beds, opaque screen between them. “I am too weary and aching to do more than stumble onto one of those.”
“I know,” Dorinda assured checking the door then lowering the lights. She tiptoed to gently kiss his fiery cheek. “That’s why I’m giving you a bath first. You need one. Plus it’ll help you sleep, recuperate for tomorrow.”
Vesarius’ brow creased. “You bathe me? How could I relax?”
Dorinda chuckled tiredly. “Because I have only a little more stamina than you. I’m emotionally kaput.”
“Is that a terminal condition?” Vesarius asked following her into the bath facilities and stalling before the large, oval tub. “Should Dr. Sheradon check you for symptoms?”
Again Dorinda laughed without wit then leaned over to tab the faucet release and adjust the temperature. Warm water swirled into the basin. Dorinda gazed at it longingly. Beside her, Vesarius settled onto the tub’s seat-height ledge to tug off his soiled boots. Dorinda’s peripheral vision spied his painful flinch at the pull of his wounded side.
“You will need to redress this, Doctor Jade,” he advised as he stood to peel the sweaty leather briefs from his buttocks. When he straightened, Dorinda giggled this time with genuine humor. “What?”
“Redress that?” she asked nodding her head toward his naked loins. “I’d love to.”
“No, the wound,” he corrected flatly.
“I know, silly.” Dorinda chuckled again. She swatted his bare behind. “Get in the tub, Iron Man.”
“If I can manage it.” Grunting with the effort, Vesarius lowered his battered body into the still filling tub. Then closing his eyes, Vesarius leaned against its slanting rim. He grimaced as his slashed flesh met steaming water. With a half-glance her way, he finally sighed. “Care to join me, Green Eyes?”
