by Laura Kaighn
WARRIOR HEART
Book One of the
Vesar Warrior Legacy
by Laura J. Kaighn
Lady Hawke Storytelling
& Writer’s Services
Warrior Heart:
Book One of the Vesar Warrior Legacy
by Laura J. Kaighn
Lady Hawke Storytelling
All rights reserved.
Copyrights 1991, 2005, 2008, 2016
Cover concept: Laura J. Kaighn
Cover art: Irena Fonorow © 2016
ISBN: 978-1522795476
ISBN: 1522795472
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016903990
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, SC
Produced and printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, stored or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, either written or electronic, without written permission by the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Laura J. Kaighn reserves full copyrights to this book, its contents and any transmitted form, including future video, movie and other electronic and digital formats.
Disclaimer
This work is a piece of fiction. Though some locations referenced here are based on actual settings, any association to actual situations, people or places is purely coincidental. Since 1991, the Adirondack Park has been an environment the author dearly loves, enjoys and respects. Some violence and adult content are included.
Foreword
A lone time ago (OK, it was 8/28/89), I was driving along a forested road in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, and a scenario formed in my head. I sketched out the idea in my story journal: What if you found an injured alien along a roadside? What would you do? In my version of this premise, the driver didn’t contact the local authorities or hail the FBI. My character instead chose to help this wayward warrior, and ultimately she fell in love with him. This was the precedence for Warrior Heart (first written in 1991) and its nine subsequent sequels. From the very start, the characters took over their adventures; the Vesar Warrior Legacy was birthed. May you find their exploits as enjoyable and enlightening to read as I did in writing them.
Peace,
LJK
Dedication
As a lifelong reader, writer, educator, storyteller and volunteer, I’d like to dedicate this volume to the people who daily make a positive difference in this world – those who battle injustice, poverty, hate and intolerance. Vesarius is a man out of time and tradition, Dorinda the bravest woman I’ve ever met. They are trailblazers, but they’re also fictional characters. May we all have their courage to set the best example in real life. Wado.
Chapter 1: A Backwards Shove
A lone figure stood atop the stony platform, bathed in scarlet. Vesarius considered the cyclopean sun setting behind distant crags and scowled. Time was being extinguished. The sun’s vermilion glow cast grotesque shadows upon Mytok’s sands. Around him, the ancient Mytoki city squatted weather-beaten from centuries of the blowing grit. To the Vesar warrior, the scenery would have been austerely glorious had not the air been charged with plasma fire and the acrid scent of burnt flesh. The Orthop invaders had returned.
The crew of the Galactic Alliance Vessel Pompeii had been called in to rescue a small group of archeologists and one of their own – Dr. Jun-So Toh, who had been on sabbatical, studying the Mytoki’s imperial ruins.
The scientists were all dead, however, eaten by the insectoid race moments before Vesarius’ ship had arrived. Now the Pompeii was struggling to protect the scientists’ discovery: the Arch.
For nearly two days the battle had raged. In their soaring podships, the alien swarm descended. They targeted his human crewmates, picking them off with bolts of fiery destruction. Vesarius squinted into the sun for the next approaching Orthop volley. He raised his crossbow in defense of the ancient machine for which the scientists had perished.
Vesarius still remembered Dr. Toh’s last message – a garbled, half-coherent plea for help. To the warrior the urgent hail hadn’t made much sense. “Save the Arch, Coty! Don’t let them have the Arch! They know-” The transmission had buzzed into oblivion then. It was the last time the Pompeii’s crew had seen their friend alive.
Now the Orthop invaders were on the ground as well, lumbering about the Mytoki city attempting to get close to the Arch. The Pompeii’s ground forces were losing against their larger foe, and the insects had successfully circumvented the high, flat platform on which the Arch sat – a silent curve of granitite marble. Before that ancient device the Vesar stood battle ready.
An energy bolt struck Vesarius’ leather clad shoulder jarring his cracked ribs yet again. He was shoved back against the stone Arch. “No!” With gritted teeth, he aimed his weapon to send an explosive bolt away. The concussion split an Orthop’s carapace. The creature tumbled like a burst melon. Then another Orthop appeared. Closer, from behind a stony wall. Fingers numbing, Vesarius dropped his empty crossbow. It clattered to the scoured stonework. He drew his plasma pistol instead. Strength fading from the numerous injuries he had already endured, Vesarius now found his breathing strained. He fired but missed. A second shot sent the alien reeling, mortally wounded.
Nearby someone shouted his name. Captain Michael Bear Coty and the rest of the Pompeii crew were converging on the very machine against which Vesarius now leaned heavily. Below the Arch’s stone base, Coty fired his multi-phase plasma rifle at a swooping podship. It flared and twisted off into the encroaching desert. Beyond a crumbled wall, a cluster of Orthops united. They ambulated on multiple, jointed legs, swift for their three meter size. Might one of the Pompeii’s transports eradicate the aliens with a single proton shell?
Another Orthop energy blast zinged past Vesarius’ ebony braid just above his damaged shoulder. Time constricted. The Pompeii’s crew was running short of daylight and decisions. His captain was racing towards him now, eager to assist his exposed officer and friend. “Coty, behind you!” Vesarius bellowed.
An Orthop clambered out from behind some rubble. Towering almost twice as tall as the human captain, the insect was covered in creamy, organic armor. Quadruple eyestalks sprouted from a squatted head. Powerful mandibles snapped menacingly. This orthopteroid also hefted a heavy power rifle, specially modified for its mantis forelimbs. The weapon was capable of blasting a human body to pieces.
With Vesarius’ warning, the agile captain dove for cover. Coty spun in midair and bounced to a crouch, his rifle popping. Hit several times, the alien was soon teetering, limbless and dying.
In the momentary lull, Vesarius knelt beside his slumped pack trying to regain his stamina. His free hand combed the bag’s interior for more explosive crossbow bolts. He was out. The Mytoki Arch had stood above the city complex, exposed to wind and sand for untold centuries. Now, it was in imminent danger. And the Alliance held diminishing options.
Vesarius recalled his first encounter with the Arch’s weathered surface, so pockmarked and gray, on a previous expedition. Mytok had been discovered just ten years earlier when his own ship, the Pvokx, had visited the planet seeking mineral resources. Standing silent and secret, the Great Arch of the Mytoki Empire had been a powerful tool to its extinct creators, a power only recently realized by Dr. Toh and the Alliance archeologists. Now the Orthops were here to take the city, to use the Arch and destroy the Galactic Alliance, his Alliance. With all of time at their disposal.
Another Orthop invader lumbered up to the stone dais beside the Arch. Vesarius saw its four articulated limbs skim over the control panel there. Strength seeping from him, the Vesar commander raised his plasma pistol once more and squeezed the trigger... Nothing happened. His weapon’s
charge had been drained from constant use. Time decelerated toward ineffectual.
Then the Arch began to hum, waking from its long rest. “Stop!” Vesarius entreated. The Orthop seemed oblivious to the weakened enemy kneeling before the sandblasted machine. It continued to manipulate the controls. At the Arch’s center a blue haze coalesced.
Vesarius heard a low growl, then a sharp bark. A mass of fur and muscle leaped past him suddenly. Vesarius’ Alaskan malamute collided with the invader, toppling it. “Tundra!” Vesarius called his Kin Companion. Beyond the dais only a few flailing limbs could be seen, but a great deal of growling finally terminated in a “Yipe!” Then all was quiet ... except for the humming of the Arch.
“Vesarius! Over here.” Closer now, Coty was firing his rifle at a trio of encroaching Orthops. “Get Tundra, and let’s get the hell out of here,” the captain hollered over his shoulder. Coty squeezed off another shot. “We’ll destroy the Arch from orbit. It’s the only way.”
Vesarius shook his groggy head. Had Coty said ‘destroy’? Were they really going to obliterate the greatest archeological find in Alliance history? Standing shakily to check on his dog, a searing pain struck the Vesar full in the chest. He dropped his pistol, bulldozed back by the impact of another Orthop plasma blast.
“Sarius!” Coty turned to see what had happened. Tumbling through the Arch’s opalescent glow, Vesarius abruptly disappeared.
* * *
Time backpedaled. Vesarius punched the ground. Ears still ringing from the plasma concussion, his entire body was afire. Like a disjointed ragdoll, the warrior finally settled onto his back. Eyes rolled skyward then blinked sluggishly. The atmosphere was aglow in a bluish mist, the dark sky beyond obscured by thin, towering bodies. Their multiple arms and flailing fingers taunted him. This is not Mytok. Vesarius coughed then winced at the ache. Just before he blacked out, his prickly-fogged thoughts were of time ending.
After an unknown interval, Vesarius groaned once, then tried to roll over. A fresh stab of pain roused him. Vesarius’ eyes snapped open. Through the silence around him a chilled breeze murmured of peace. There was no rifle fire, no desert heat. The bleakness surrounded Vesarius like a molded tomb. Yet, if I am dead, why is there still pain? His muddled mind fought for control. Where am I? Not on Mytok, surely. Grabbing a handful of soil, he fingered its richness in the gloom. Not sand but humus, full of decaying leaves, needles, and twigs.
The wind whispered again. A night bird “quawked”. Turning his head slowly, Vesarius regarded the night sky through tall trees. He was in a forest, but where? How had he -?
The Arch! His groggy brain was just able to grasp his predicament. He had fallen through the ancient device when the Orthop had blasted ... his chest. Grimacing in sickened anticipation, Vesarius dropped the fistful of dirt. He slid his free hand up his torso to the singed and crusty wound at the center of his sleeveless, leather tunic. The dark sienna-dyed Vesar garment was crisp and splitting where a ragged hole had been burned through. The silver medallion attached there was melted, disfigured. Warm wet liquid smattered both. Vesarius swallowed hard. I am dead, at least if I stay here.
Favoring his injured ribs and shoulder, Vesarius sucked a deep lungful and curled onto his knees. A stab of enflamed nerves clutched his left leg. He bellowed. Vesarius realized the appendage was swollen and unresponsive. Grunting with the exertion, he maneuvered his right hand down to investigate. As it brushed past a protruding rod, Vesarius gasped a lungful of cool night. He nearly sank to the dirt.
In his fall from the Arch, a sapling had transversely gouged his thigh just below his groin. Only the bone had stalled full impalement. Vesarius squeezed back tears and tried to think. He could not walk unless he removed the snapped trunk, but he might bleed to death if he did. Without his pack, a medical kit and wound sealer, the Vesar had little choice. He cursed inwardly.
Then, to his left, Vesarius heard a low rumble growing in volume. As he turned his gaze toward that sound, a pillar of light sped past the trees illuminating the woods. A vehicle. A roadway. There would be assistance. Quickly he gauged the distance before the headlights vanished. About half a kilometer. He could walk there in an hour. Suppressing thoughts of his demise, Vesarius made his grim decision. He clasped the two centimeter shaft in his right hand and yanked it free. This time his clenched teeth only allowed a thick grunt to escape. A Vesar warrior does not show pain. He collapsed unconscious onto the damp ground.
* * *
“General, we can’t destroy the machine yet,” Coty implored to the face centered in the Pompeii’s forward viewscreen. The captain stood beside his command station at the center of the ship’s triangular bridge. “We have to recover Vesarius ... Commander Tankawankanyi, from the Arch.”
That face grimly shook his head. Major General Taylor Chan disagreed, “One ship cannot defend the Arch against a mass Orthop invasion. You were lucky this first attack was merely a scout squadron, Bear. You may have killed their leader drone, but they’ll be back in greater numbers. Right now our forces are scattered. I can’t spare reinforcements that far into the frontier.” When Coty inhaled to protest, Chan raised an arthritic hand and continued, “We’ve already been advised by the Vesar consulate. Cmdr. Tankawankanyi has no family to avenge his death. He died honorably, like a Vesar warrior.”
Coty smacked the arm of his command seat. “He has family here.” Coty’s square jaw clenched in frustration. Vesarius’ abandoned pack slouched at his feet, now the only physical evidence of his first officer’s existence.
“Capt. Coty, I recognize that you consider this Vesar a close friend. You’ve served together ever since he lost his captaincy with the Pvokx over eight years ago. However, our strategists estimate that an enforced convoy of Orthop podships will arrive at Mytok to take the Arch within a week. We must ... You must destroy the Mytoki capital and its technology to safeguard against their using the time machine again. Alliance security overrides the archeological knowledge to be gained from the site.”
Michael Bear Coty regarded the general’s face with a narrowed gaze. Had he heard the man’s implication correctly? “I have less than a week before they arrive?”
Nodding once, Chan’s eyes never left Coty’s steely glower. Slowly, as if he wanted no misunderstandings, the general answered, “The city complex must be destroyed before the Orthop convoy appears on your scanners. Once they are within range, the Pompeii has no prayer.”
Coty tried to suppress a hopeful smile. “Yes, General. I understand. I will carry out your orders.” Nodding his goodbye, the captain turned toward his bridge crew a slow grin spreading across his bronzed face. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get to work. We’ve got a week to figure out where and when those cockroaches were planning to transport.” Leaping up the steps to the data center behind his command seat, Coty shoved back his raven bangs to lean over the shoulder of his resident computer expert. “Zan, we know the Orthops want certain Alliance worlds for their own. If they had access to our data banks, what history would they look to change so that those worlds would then be available?”
Lieutenant Zaneta Talyabo half twisted her chair and leaned back to cross her darker arms. She blinked at the question. “You ask a tall order, Captain. I’ll have to access Alliance historical files.” She spun back to her console. “I assume you want me to look for events which were perhaps pivotal to the Alliance’s creation?”
“Yes.” Coty straddled her chair with his arms and squinted past Zaneta’s shoulder to the computer library screen. “The Tloni were first to contact us and ask for trade agreements and an exchange of technology. They invented the hyperspace gates, which got us out this far. Perhaps transport gate technology is what they’re after. We’ll need to look for some time before first contact.”
“But the Alliance was not officially formed until Vesar signed the peace treaty thirty-seven years ago,” Zan reasoned. “Their warriors fought for the rights of several planets near the Orthop border.” She twisted a loose cornrow ov
er her ear and continued with a pat to her console. “Perhaps that’s where we should start, Bear.”
Coty’s dark jasper gaze drifted from Talyabo’s brown-complexioned face. His mind battling for order, the captain straightened his six-foot, sturdy frame. “Zan, we only have a week. Coordinate your efforts with Dr. Waters. Check out the Vesar connection, but concentrate on Tloni history. Tlonnis was the beginning of the Alliance. With a time machine, the Orthops may want to clip the Galactic Alliance in the chrysalis.”
Talyabo dipped her chin in acknowledgement. With her mouth drawn in a determined ellipse, she pivoted back to her station. Zan’s dancing fingers began to access the data on the Vesar Colonial Wars and on Tloni First Contact.
Captain Coty next turned to his historian. Sam Waters was shorter than his captain, heavier set, and nearly a third older. “Sam, we’re going back down there. You need to learn the Arch controls. We’ve got to see if there’s a memory on that thing. If so, we can access the destination files and put Zaneta out of a job.”
“And Sarius back on our bridge, heh, Bear?” Sam cocked his silver head as he joined his captain by the magnelift.
Coty nodded curtly, a twitch of a smile tracing his determined lips. He patted the historian on the shoulder. “Exactly what I had in mind.” As the two left for the transport bay, Coty added, “We’re going to need Jonas on this. There’s no machine he can’t figure out.”
Sam Waters tilted his jaw. “I’ll get him briefed. Meanwhile, Sheradon wants to speak to you about Tundra.”
Coty grimaced. “The witch doctor calls.”
The two men split up once the Pompeii’s electromagnetic elevator had deposited the captain on level four. It then swept the historian to level six to see the ship’s engineer, Jonas Botrocelli.
