by Laura Kaighn
Understanding the gesture, the warrior rose awkwardly to slide onto the couch. He made sure there was distance between them.
In explanation, the woman’s long-fingered hands opened the book she still cradled in her arm. Then, laying it out on his lap, she twisted toward him on the couch and pointed to one of the many pictures in the photo album. “Michael Tanner was my husband. He died two years ago in a car accident while on his way to an environmental conference at Indian Lake.” She turned the page and showed Vesarius a family portrait. “He was full Cherokee. His family’s from Oklahoma. But I met him in New York City while he was doing research at the American Museum of Natural History.” The woman turned to another page showing pictures of various bird species. “Michael was an ornithologist in search of a cause at the time.” In illustration she pointed to a field photo of her husband dressed in a khaki uniform and clutching massive binoculars.
“After we married, he decided to move here. This area was ripe for songbird study. Michael soon found out, though, the Adirondack Park was in the middle of a dispute between public and private land ownership. It was also under threat from acid rain destruction. More than just the songbirds were in danger.” She met Vesarius’ dark eyes with earnest. “That’s one of the reasons I’m writing a novel based on him and his birds. I want others to know how Michael felt about this place. How I feel about it.” Vesarius nodded his understanding as the woman continued illustrating her story through the various photos, including a set of wedding poses that showed her in a white, lacy gown beside the darker skinned and broader Tanner.
“When he let it grow, Michael used to wear his hair braided like yours. He was tall for a Cherokee, more slender.”
“I can tell,” Vesarius said dryly. He tugged at the borrowed shirt riding up his waist. When she did not smile at his attempted levity, Vesarius added more solemnly, “I remind you of him.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “You ... You even have his sense of humor.”
“That is why you do not smile.”
When she did smirk slightly and nod in assent, Vesarius relaxed. She continued, “Anyway, when I first saw you there, lying in the brush above the road, my mind did a flashback.” Her voice quavered at the memory. “I was seeing Michael again on the road south of Blue Mountain Lake, his ... body broken and dirty ... only half-covered in a forensic sheet. Police tape kept me from his side.” Vesarius watched her blink against tears. “This morning, I saw a ghost. I almost hoped you were his ghost.”
Vesarius tilted his head at her. “I am not. I am just a misplaced traveler who fell through a time gate.” Pausing to study her ivory face, Vesarius decided whether or not to continue. The woman made that decision for him.
“Vesarius. Tell me about you ... your world. I’m ready to listen now.”
“But I do not know when I am now.” He leaned against the couch with a sigh. “What year is this?”
“Year? It’s nineteen ninety-nine.”
Vesarius nodded. “That explains much. Your planet is still over thirty years from first contact with the Tloni. It is no wonder you are afraid of me.”
“Was afraid,” she countered and laid a palm atop his knee.
Vesarius offered her a solemn smile. “Thank you, Green Eyes.”
The woman returned the grin. She placed her hand over her heart. “My name is Dorinda. Dorinda Tanner.”
Bowing his chin at the information, Vesarius acknowledged, “To me you will always be Green Eyes.” When she averted her gaze, he continued, “Vesar was the third nation to join the Galactic Alliance, but only after a half-century’s long and bloody battle for colony rights. Our warrior clan has changed little since then. We are still struggling with our Fury. And many humans and Tloni remain hostile toward us. Rightly so, I suppose.” Vesarius fell silent for a moment not liking the direction his story was taking. Fortunately, Dorinda redirected him.
“Who’s your Michael?”
“My Michael?”
“Yes, you were calling for him this afternoon. You were dreaming ... or delirious.”
Wriggling in his seat, Vesarius rubbed his aching shoulder. It was difficult to get comfortable in the low furniture. “Michael is my captain. Michael Bear Coty. He befriended me several years ago, offered me a commission on his fleet ship. The Pompeii is also an exploratory vessel, an assignment I have always sought.”
Dorinda’s eyes grew wide in recognition. “Michael gave you the knife. Those are his initials. You’re ... a kindred spirit?”
Vesarius smirked at the reference. “Yes. Bear is half Lakota. He says Vesar warriors are kindred spirits to your American Indians.”
Dorinda’s lips tilted upward as well. “I can agree with that.”
Vesarius jutted his squared chin at the compliment. “He has saved my life. I have saved his. Warriors keep track of life-debts. Usually. I have lost count with Coty. Perhaps we are even.”
“You miss him.”
Nodding solemnly, Vesarius rubbed his healing shoulder once more. “He is my family now. My star brother. He and Tundra are all I have left.”
“Tundra?” Dorinda sat up straighter on the couch, her jade-like eyes bright with interest in this strange man’s tale.
“My Kin Companion.” Vesarius waved toward the collie dozing on the floor. “I thought Casey was your Kin at first, but she could not picture read.” When Dorinda seemed confused, Vesarius elaborated. “In my time, several animal species have been bred for intelligence, genetically engineered as working colleagues. Kin Companions, or Kinpanions for short. Each Kin is matched to a companion – a human, Vesar, or Tloni – for bonding. Once bonded, we can communicate using picture words. I visualize what I want Tundra to do, combine the image with command words. And Tundra does what I ask. The communication is dual-focused. I can also understand him.”
Dorinda bounced and twisted toward him excitedly. “This is not a slave/master relationship. It’s more like a team? Fascinating. Can anyone communicate with an animal ... a Kin Companion?”
Slowly Vesarius nodded. “It takes concentration. Non-bonded humans often earn a migraine. But, yes, it can work. Kinpanions can talk to each other more easily. But a person’s own Kinpanion can use picture words even from a distance.” Considering his words, Vesarius scowled.
When he fell silent, Dorinda must have understood. “Tundra can’t communicate through time.”
Vesarius stared at his book-strewn lap. “To him, I am dead.” Then, raising his troubled eyes to hers, Vesarius was comforted by her concerned regard. “He may be dead himself. Tundra was injured just before I fell through the Arch. The time gate.” Suddenly too uncomfortable to sit any longer, Vesarius shoved aside the photo album. Grunting he hauled himself from the couch, hiding his pained expression. Silently he cursed his body’s protest and pounded the air with a fist. “What a cosmic flip of events.”
“What exactly is this Arch?” Dorinda asked calmly no doubt trying to ease the situation with more talk. “How did you fall through?”
Pacing was painful, but the pain controlled his ire. Vesarius limped from one end of the narrow living room to the other. He explained in words and gestures. “There is a species of insectoid. Large mantis-like beings. Humans call them Orthops. There have been isolated territorial skirmishes between the Orthops and Vesar for decades. Now they are warring for other Alliance worlds as well.
“Orthops are vicious fighters,” he continued. “They use their four armored limbs and razor-sharp mandibles to tear their victims to pieces.” Vesarius swung his arms in violent imitation. “They have also learned to use our weaponry, even improved upon some. With organic podships, Orthops can approach our colonies in sensor silence. Like your Earth locust, they may kill all the inhabitants of a village or settlement, and take over the fields and towns.” Vesarius paused scowling at an old memory. “I have seen them eat their victims alive. They cocoon others to feed their nymphal young.” Vesarius stopped pacing when he noticed Dorinda draw her legs up onto the couch and
curl herself into a ball. Her fine lips rose in a snarl at his descriptions. “Sorry. You do not like bugs either, eh?” She shook her head sternly, and he diverted the subject, pacing again.
“The Arch was a discovery my trade ship the Pvokx made when we surveyed Mytok for gold and dutronium-d deposits over ten years ago. My time.” He continued with hand movements as he hobbled. “The Mytoki city was just weathered, stone ruins with this great arching monolith at its center. We Vesar did not even chart the city on our survey maps. Since then, the Alliance has had time to study the one crystal tablet I found and brought back with me. Our scientists just realized the Arch was a time gate a month ago.” Vesarius pouted at his audience. “Somehow the Orthops found out as well. The Pompeii was defending the Arch from their invasion party when I fell through.” Vesarius sighed. “I cannot figure out how they knew to set the controls. We cannot even use the Arch ... yet.”
Dorinda swung her feet back to the floor leaning forward on the couch. “What would these Orthops use a time machine for?”
Vesarius waggled a fist at her. “Now that is the puzzle.” His eyes drifted away from Dorinda as he considered, “I am here, so the Orthops wanted to be here. It was purely accidental that I was shoved through the gate by a plasma blast.” Instinctively he brushed a hand against his healing chest ridges. Then, considering the night before, Vesarius tried to recall the events in order. “I remember hearing more discharges even after I fell through. So the gate was still open. I blacked out, and later there was nothing.”
“If the Orthops had followed you through the gate, wouldn’t they have found you?”
“Oh, yes,” Vesarius confirmed squatting into the chair across from Dorinda. “I was what Coty would call a ‘sitting duck’. Not much better off than how you found me.” With the admission, Vesarius rubbed through his pant leg at the stitched wound near his groin. Dorinda’s face darkened at the gesture. Witnessing her reaction Vesarius stopped. He stood again to continue pacing. “They did not follow me through, but neither did Coty. And he would have had he been able.”
“So you don’t know if Coty and your other crewmen won their battle?”
“They must have, or else the Orthops would be here.” Vesarius raised a fist before stalled lips. “Coty must be trying to find me, or ...”
“Or?”
Thoughts suddenly disturbing, Vesarius’ voice withered to a whisper. “Or he has destroyed the Arch.”
“What?”
Vesarius’ ebony eyes constricted as he tried to remember clearly. “Just before I fell through, Coty was telling me we were returning to the ship. He was going to blow it up to prevent the Orthops from using it.”
“The Arch?” Dorinda frowned, eyes squinting as if trying to absorb everything. Vesarius’ own gaze fogged at the consequences. “You’re trapped here?”
The Vesar’s teeth ground together as the muscles in his face contorted to granite. Mahogany digits coiling into fists, his arms jackhammered the air. Suddenly he was in the kitchen then out through the porch door. It slammed behind him.
Long, muscular legs stomped briskly into the darkened woods. “Coty!” Vesarius bellowed to the stars. “Do not leave me here!” His plea rose in volume and ended in a stifled, croaking sob. He did not know Dorinda stood at the porch boundary unable to go to him, yet feeling his anguish. She too had lost her world. All that was left of Dorinda Tanner’s husband was her oasis in the Adirondack woods.
Chapter 4: No Way Home
Michael Bear Coty sneaked into the Pompeii’s medical center, hoping to avoid Yolonda Sheradon’s keen scrutiny. Using his special key, the captain opened the doctor’s apothecary and pulled out the bottle of stimulants marked dextroamphetamine sulfate - 60mg. Dumping a few pills into his jacket pocket, the captain resealed the container and replaced it on the shelf. He relocked the cabinet.
When he turned around, Sheradon was there, hands on her round hips. “Oh, no you don’t, Coty. If you need pep pills, you’re working yourself too hard.”
“Yolonda,” Coty tried to reason, knowing she would never agree. “I can’t sleep anyway. With these I can work through the night, accomplish something.”
Sheradon was shaking her head adamantly. “Leave the Orthop language to Moxie, Bear. She’s our linguist.”
Coty wouldn’t yet concede defeat. “Time’s running out, Lonnie. The Orthops will be here in days.”
“At this rate, then, you’ll be in no shape to command the Pompeii out of here when they do arrive.” With that Sheradon reached into Coty’s pocket and scooped out the pills. “If you don’t get out of this office and get some sleep, I’ll pop a tranquilizer into your neck.”
“How’s Tundra and Noah doing?” Coty asked sliding the apothecary key into the same pocket when Sheradon twisted to regard the crated dog and otter.
“They’re stable at the moment, but I have them sedated. Bear,” Sheradon said swerving back to face him. “I must insist that you bond with Tundra. He’s too strong a personality, too valuable, to die like this.” When Coty started to wave her off, she stressed her conviction. “Sarius wouldn’t want it this way. He would want you to save his Kin.”
Coty scowled, heat rising in his cheeks. “Tundra has to wait.” He huffed defiantly, then swallowed a rebuttal before defending himself. “If we can’t get Vesarius back before the Orthops get here, I’ll bond with Tundra. Okay? It’s the least I can do to ... to honor his memory.”
Sheradon seemed satisfied with his answer. She stepped back to let him pass from her apothecary annex. As Coty slipped by her big-boned frame, however, the doctor blocked his path. “Coty, wait.” Slipping her hand again into his jacket pocket, she pulled out the key and smiled. “I’ll hold onto this if you don’t mind.”
“Do I have a choice?”
Yolonda Sheradon’s eyes were ice-blue in conviction. Shrugging, the captain left the medical center. Once in the hall, he popped the pill he’d reserved in his other hand into his mouth and swallowed hard. Then Coty marched toward the communications lab where Moxland Darby was working overtime to decode the Orthop language.
* * *
When Dorinda awoke late the next morning she rolled off the couch, stretched, and looked around for her dog. “Case?” Poking her head in the bedroom she found only the crumpled bed sheets minus the blanket. The collie was not sprawled under the kitchen table either, which was her habit on warm days.
Dorinda had left the porch door unlatched in case Vesarius returned. It seemed he had not until she stepped out onto the enclosure. Casey raised her head from the grass-carpeted floor. The collie lay on her side loosely wrapped in the limbs of the warrior who snored soundly beside her. Dorinda shook her head at the sight. “If only I had a camera.”
Vesarius startled with a snort. “Heh?” He groaned then opened his eyes to roll onto his back. Beside him Casey climbed to her feet. The dog stretched backward then forward, ending in a thorough shake before snuffling the Vesar’s ruddy face good morning.
As Vesarius sat up and extended his right arm with a twisted grimace of stiffness, Dorinda tilted her head in inquiry. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Hungry ... and more like a whole Vesar.”
Settling into an Adirondack chair beside him, Dorinda nodded. “You had a rough night. We should check your bandages.” With that she slid from the chair and knelt beside the Vesar. Dorinda next felt for the gauze pad at his shoulder.
Vesarius angled his head away to allow her easier access. “Would you consider taking on a boarder?” The man’s request was tentative, placid. “I think I will need a place to live.” He cleared his throat and raised his pitch to add, “You may hide me in your cellar, if you desire.”
Dorinda chuckled at his attempt at dry humor. “I don’t have a cellar. Are you always like this? Making jokes?” Meeting his dark, pain-stricken eyes her smile instantly collapsed.
Vesarius jerked his squared chin. “When I am in an awkward place ... such as now. Homeless.”
Dorinda saw not a spark of his former wit is those words. To switch subjects, she gently peeled the bandage from his shoulder wound. “Let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” She peeked inside the sweatshirt’s open sleeve and blinked. “Your burn is almost healed.” Unable to fathom the transformation, she stammered on. “But it’s been less than two days.”
“Vesar heal quickly,” the man explained, seemingly recovered from his morose wanderings. “If we did not, we would make pathetic warriors.”
Dorinda grinned and glided her fingertips across the warm, but smooth new skin growing where yesterday there had been only a dark and ugly burn. “This is extraordinary.” She wavered her head in amazement. “And your leg?”
Vesarius grimaced in reply and rubbed the wound roughly. “Itching like a hrotgig bite.”
Standing Dorinda turned away from his awkward movement. Her cheeks were suddenly flushed by his closeness. “How do you like your eggs?” she asked to redirect the conversation.
“What kind?” came his immediate reply from the floor.
“What kind of eggs?” Dorinda watched Vesarius stand and stretch his entire, muscled frame then rub at his chest. “Chicken of course.”
“Oh. Of course.” He sounded chagrined at his oversight. It made her smile. He followed her into the kitchen, but Vesarius did not take a seat to be served. Instead he stood by her at the stove while she warmed a large frying pan, popped some bread in the toaster, and pulled out a pair of plates and mugs from the upper cabinet.
Vesarius took the dishes from her to set the table and explained his query. “In my time, there are many different foods from different colony worlds available to us on the Pompeii.” He returned to her for the silverware. “Vesar eel eggs are best. Their yolks are like emeralds studded in gold.” His affirmation was posed with obvious relish.
