Warrior Heart

by Laura Kaighn

  Grunting in affirmation, Coty rose to his feet and patted his friend on the knee. “That’s why we need to communicate with the Orthops. They understand us better than we do them. A very volatile situation.” Then, straightening his gray jacket over his navy turtleneck, Captain Michael Bear Coty sighed. “Sheradon’s going to have my head for this, but I’ve got to show you something else we brought back. So get up.”

  Vesarius jerked a black brow, his curiosity piqued. “A souvenir?”

  “Yeah,” Coty retorted.

  Roughly Vesarius slid from his sick bed. Tugging at the constricting medical scrubs, he stretched his stiffened back and followed his captain across the room.

  Coty led him through the med-center’s recovery facilities, past the emergency care area, and into the intensive care unit. There, individual booths rimmed a central monitoring station of machines and medical computers. Pausing beside one open doorway, the captain tilted his raven-haired head in expectancy.

  Vesarius adjusted the sling securing his injured shoulder and raised a thick brow once more. “Someone I know?”

  Coty’s expression remained emotionless. “Take a look.”

  Peeking around the partition, Vesarius half expected a rescued crewmember or even a captured Orthop. On the bed within lay a pale figure wrapped in a blanket and hooked to a portable monitoring unit which beeped out a steady stream of heartbeats. The patient’s most distinguishing feature, however, was the flaming wreath of auburn hair draped upon her pillow.

  “Dorinda!” Vesarius growled. “What happened?”

  “As she was setting you down, a stray Orthop blast glanced her spine. She’s alive, but Sheradon says the damage to her spinal column is severe. The doctor’s cloning new vertebrae for her now.”

  Moving to lean over the young woman, Vesarius absently caressed her hair. His voice was gruff and low. “Now she is the one caught in time.”

  “Dorinda’s going to need your help to recover, Commander,” Dr. Sheradon announced. She stepped into the small enclosure then strode to the opposite side of the bed. The physician stared at the warrior with icy conviction. “Vesarius, she’s been asking for you. She’s frightened, and she’s hurt.” Sheradon paused as if to let the words sink in. “It’s time to repay your debt to her for saving your life.”

  Raising his eyes from Dorinda’s pale face, Vesarius glowered at the doctor. “What do you expect of me? I am no healer. I am a tracker, a navigator.”

  “Dorinda has no one, knows no one here ... except you. Be her friend,” Yolonda clarified. “Stay with her. Talk to her. If she’s to walk again, she must have the will to do so.” Then, reaching across the bed, Sheradon covered Vesarius’ hand with hers. She squeezed her quick encouragement. “You’re Vesar. Instill some of that warrior Fury in her.” Straightening, the doctor turned to usher Coty away. Vesarius was only marginally aware of Sheradon berating his captain from the outer room. Tundra sauntered in and sat beside his Bondmate.

  Vesarius, sensing his Kin’s reassuring picture words, slowly sank into the cushioned chair beside the bed. He sighed. “It was not supposed to end this way, Green Eyes.” He took her delicate hand in his. “You were supposed to go home to Casey.” Vesarius recalled too the amiable police officer. “Deputy Hawthorne liked you, I think.” After another moment of remembrance, the Vesar smirked in irony. “Of course he was too young for you ... scrawnier than I. Not nearly as intelligent or handsome.”

  Dorinda must have understood his words for a slight smile traced her lips. Then her jade eyes revealed and crystallized into brilliant emeralds of recognition. So that she could view him better, Vesarius stood. Parting her lips to speak, Dorinda formed words. Only a raspy whisper escaped. “Vesarius, you’re here.”

  “I am?” He spread his tethered palm atop his chest.

  Dorinda half-smiled. “Are you always this way?”

  Vesarius tilted his chin. “Only when I am trying to cheer a beautiful woman.”

  Dorinda blinked slowly and swallowed. She turned her head to see a huge canine muzzle resting on the bed’s edge. “Hello, Tundra. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. When she spoke again, Dorinda’s voice was clearer, more like her own. “Casey will think you very handsome.”

  Vesarius winced in realization. Dr. Sheradon had not yet told the woman of her true situation, had not spoken of the Arch’s destruction. Dorinda Tanner had no chance of seeing her beloved collie again. When Vesarius next moved to catch her eyes, he saw in them a great weariness. “Are you in pain?”

  Dorinda wavered her chin sluggishly. “Pumped to the eyeballs. Don’t feel a thing.”

  Concerned, Vesarius squeezed her hand. “Can you feel this?”

  “Only when you hold my hand.” Dorinda scowled before adding, “Doctor Sheradon says my back’s been injured. I’ll need some therapy to walk again.”

  Nodding Vesarius squeezed her digits once more. “I will take you on a tour of the Pompeii. She is not the biggest ship in the fleet, but we have the best-kept arboretum in the Galactic Alliance. You will like Eva and her three squirrel Kin. They have been busy planting North American wild roses. They may be in for bandages later. I will introduce you.”

  “Sounds nice. The arboretum.” Dorinda’s voice was fading again. Her eyelids drooped shut. “Tired,” she murmured and was unconscious the next moment.

  “Sweet dreams, Green Eyes.” Vesarius kissed her palm before gently resetting her hand. Then, grabbing Tundra’s mane, Vesarius turned away. Together they strode out of ICU in search of Dr. Sheradon. Finding the healer in the Kin recovery room, Vesarius watched as Yolonda tried to communicate with the twenty-three kilo otter crouched in a crate set on a low table.

  “Noah, you’ve got to eat. Your ribs are starting to show, and your disposition’s going down the disposal.” When the doctor attempted to open the cage door to set in a bowl of freshly chopped fish and vegetables, the otter lunged forward. With a loud hissing growl, he bared sharp canine teeth. Sheradon snatched her hand away.

  “Do you need an extra couple of hands and paws?” the Vesar offered moving to stand beside the cage. As he did so, Tundra groaned and backed away. “What is wrong with you?”

  Sheradon explained. “Noah’s been projecting only one message to anyone who comes near. A rather graphic one,” the doctor added sighing. “Lieutenant Torch was killed by an Orthop power rifle during the first conflict, when you fell through the Arch a week ago.”

  Vesarius shook his head. “A week to you, two days to me. If Tundra is upset with the image, how are you taking it?”

  “I had to do the post mortem,” Yolonda informed. Handing the Vesar the bowl of food, Sheradon stepped back from the cage. “Here. You try.”

  Tentatively Vesarius faced the crate and bent to regard the crouching Mustelid. The otter glared at him through the heavy wire mesh a low whine escaping his throat. “Come on, boy. Sheradon may be a dreadful vet, but she makes a great fish salad.” Suddenly the Vesar’s mind was bombarded with the vivid image of a man standing over him, a heavy pistol in his hands. “J.T.” The man’s brown hair was speckled with blood from a deep gash over his left eye. While Vesarius was forced to watch, Torch spun in surprise. Mouthing something, he was hit in the torso by a violent energy bolt. Despite the man’s body armor, flesh and bone were blasted apart in the concussion. A bloody Jonathan Torch landed on his back, his eyes rolling skyward. Mouth moved to shape his Kin’s name; Torch’s lips then went slack. Prone atop the Mytoki sand, his arms shredded and missing, Lt. Jonathan Torch had been severed in two from the sternum down.

  Vesarius retreated from the otter, blinking against the horror. His breathing came in short gasps. After a moment he regained his voice though it was husky with forced calm. “Noah wants to die. I do not blame him.”

  “Jonathan was protecting Noah at the time,” Sheradon explained, her face suddenly drained and weary. “Noah had suffered a nasty Orthop bite. They were guarding the transports. Noah would hav
e died with Torch had Zaneta not killed the Orthop and dragged Noah into the transport and under a stasis machine. Later Zan was willing to bond with Noah, but … he had other plans.” Sighing Yolonda caught the otter’s dark stare. “All right, boy. I guess it’s the dermic gun again.” When Vesarius grabbed her arm for an explanation, Yolonda Sheradon pouted. “I want to keep him alive. Once we reach Outpost Fronznee Two, I hope to find him another Bondmate, one who does search and rescue like Torch did. Noah’s too valuable,” she added with conviction. “I won’t let him commit Kin suicide.”

  As Sheradon moved toward one of her supply cabinets, Vesarius squared his chin to a singular fact. “Fronznee Two is a Tloni outpost. Torch was human. Will there be another human with whom Noah can bond?”

  Yolonda shrugged filling a dermic gun with an antibiotic. She then removed a bottle of synthetic nutrients from the cabinet. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Sarius. It’s our next destination, and the Tloni are training some good, young officers on Fronznee.” Sheradon finished drawing the food supplement into the large intravenous sprayer then stopped to consider the Vesar.

  “You and Lt. Torch worked closely together many times. Tundra would know what to look for in a SAR specialist. You two should be the ones to find Noah’s new Bondmate.”

  “Yes,” Vesarius agreed. “Tundra tested JT for stamina when he first came aboard the Pompeii.” Vesarius smirked at the memory of Jonathan Torch fleeing from a growling, snarling malamute while Tundra bounded through the ship’s corridors. “Tundra never questioned working with Torch after that. JT slipped around the corner and punched Tundra square in the muzzle before he could dodge out of the way.” Vesarius lamented the officer’s passing with a sigh and a heavy lean against the wall. “He was a good man.”

  Sheradon must have noticed his stance. “Time to get you back to bed, Iron Man. Get a few more hours sleep, then we’ll see about feeding you some real food.” Nodding and steadying himself against Tundra, Vesarius trudged off to his cot in the recovery unit. He left Sheradon the unpleasant task of cornering Noah in order to give the grief-stricken otter the shot that would keep him alive.

  * * *

  When Vesarius awoke again, the medical center was a quiet place, but he noticed the main doors to the ICU were shut. Sliding out of bed Vesarius moved to investigate. One of Sheradon’s aides intercepted him, however, when he reached the emergency treatment center.

  “Dr. Sheradon left a message with me to feed you when you woke up, Commander.” The young woman tugged a stylus from behind her ear then checked the datapad in her hand. “You’re to get a light meal and several food supplements to rebuild your strength.”

  Vesarius looked past her blonde head to the solid obstacle between him and the ICU. “Where is Dr. Sheradon?”

  Pushing the big man back with one hand, the nurse continued her stall. “Busy with a patient. Now let’s take care of you.”

  Vesarius held his position, however, his eyes still straying to the steel doors of the intensive care facility. “Does she ever take a break?”

  “Because of you, she’s got her hands too full to take a break.”

  That brought his gaze back to the woman before him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Commander,” the nurse explained as if to a child. “Capt. Coty’s attempt to get you back caused the death of two additional crewmembers and the injury of several more. I would say that was a rather high price to pay for one man’s return.”

  Vesarius felt his cheeks burn. “Especially a Vesar, right Nurse Slater?”

  “Your origin has nothing to do with it, Commander. I’m not blaming you. I speak strictly as one who wishes to preserve life, not gamble with it. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you some stew.”

  Calming to the woman’s logical argument, Vesarius complied. When she brought him a steaming bowl of eel stew and a mug of Earth coffee, the warrior forgot his transient anger all together. He did not even complain about the fistful of pills he had to swallow first. Mumbling his thanks, Vesarius tasted the stew.

  “Now eat up like a good warrior, and I’ll go see if Dr. Sheradon has a free moment for you.” That said, Nurse Slater left him alone with Tundra to supervise.

  “Warriors are never good,” the Vesar mumbled through a mouthful of vegetables and white eel meat. When he was just about finished, Dr. Sheradon tramped through the center. She was carrying an armload of bloodied, sweaty coveralls from the ICU. Her gray-streaked ponytail was unkempt. Her eyes were dull and shadowed. The doctor seemed as though she would collapse any moment.

  When Vesarius started to say something, Sheradon waved him off. “Not now, Commander. I’ll talk to you in eight. And stay in the recovery center. Everywhere else is off limits.”

  “But what about ...?” Sheradon was gone, the pile of dirty scrubs dumped into the recycler unit. Vesarius waited to see whether the physician would pop her head back in to check on him. He was left alone again, however, with Tundra and the sickeningly sterile atmosphere of the medical center. “You could not strap me down, Doc,” the warrior promised. He finished his meal then stood from the bed. Promptly he discarded his sling for a stiff but free-moving arm, depositing the device into the recycler as well. The Vesar was next out the door and into the crowded, busy guts of the Pompeii’s corridors.

  Following, Tundra imaged an angry Sheradon shaking her finger and yelling. Vesarius smiled. “It will be worth her wrath to breathe some dusty, machine oil for a while. Warriors heal better with a little muck mixed in. We will go see what Jonas is up to.” They rode the magnetic lift first to his quarters where he traded his medical scrubs for fresh attire: his Vesar sandsuit. Next, it was down three decks to the Pompeii’s heart, engineering. They found Jonas Botrocelli busy in his shop. He was bent over, working on a strange barrel-shaped device nestled between two metal sawhorses. “Greetings, Master Jonas. What has his All-Mighty created now?”

  “Vesarius! What are you doing out of Sheradon’s eagle eyesight?” Jonas picked up another tool and reached in through the machine’s open end.

  “Getting some fresh air. I think the doc is out for the clock.” Vesarius’ eyes roved over the device Jonas was adjusting.

  “Well, Sheradon’s been swamped lately,” the dark-haired engineer confided. “She’ll be overdue for shore leave once she’s done.” Jonas twisted the wrench against a large bolt and patted the unit with pride. “As to your question, this little baby is a scale model of an enhanced ion drive. Very hush-hush.”

  “Until you can secure the patent,” Vesarius assured with a smile. “I know I am admitting my ignorance and reaffirming the view that Vesar are backward primitives, but how does it work?”

  Jonas skewed his face in open skepticism. “Don’t compliment yourself, my boy.” Then with an easy smirk the engineer explained. “An enhanced ion drive will increase the ship’s speed by causing a resonant flux in the plasma reaction chamber. The crystal plates’ll confine the energy from the hydrogen injectors to the center of the chamber, increasing the directional drive force three-fold. It’s the Piezo effect.”

  “Piezo effect?” Vesarius crouched before the sleek cylinder to inspect it more closely. Its domed ends were faceted, crystal lenses. “Is the plasma electrically balanced as it bounces between these plates?”

  Nodding enthusiastically Jonas chimed, “Yes. The idea came to me while I was researching an old Earth journal. I read an article about an ancient game called pinball.” Jonas expounded with dancing hands. “A small ball was propelled into a flattened chamber where it ricocheted between obstacles and flappers to keep it in play and to tally up points. Pinball was the precursor for later generation machines such as video games and virtual reality simulators.” Jonas patted the device’s outer casing. “This baby creates a concentrated ricocheted effect that collects the plasma and projects it into a tight directional beam. The crystal’s electrodes also speed up the hydrogen particles charging them with a resonant flux and the potential energy to increase p
ower through the drive unit. Hence we tally up the drive force, increasing output.”

  Vesarius shook his head as the two men stood together. “I will probably never understand all its workings, but I can appreciate the machine’s potential ... and its significance.”

  Jonas patted the Vesar on the shoulder. “Man will always strive for greater efficiency and higher productivity, my boy.”

  “And fame, Master Jonas,” Vesarius asserted with a toothy grin.

  Botrocelli’s face sobered as he exhaled. “Now I have to sell Coty on the idea of installing a full-sized unit on the Pompeii’s main drive. We could test it enroute to Fronznee Two. I’ve already ground two zircontian crystal plates to their perfect dimensions. If the new drive works, I can consign the parts needed to outfit the other two engines. They’ll be ready for us when we reach the outpost.”

  Vesarius leaned away from Jonas. “Do you require an advocate?”

  “No, Sarius. With Coty it’s always safety first and no down time. I can handle it. Thanks. You better get out of here, though, before Sheradon’s gooneys blame me for encouraging nonconformity.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Vesarius snapped Jonas a salute. He accompanied the resultant grimace of tender flesh with a sly grin before leaving with his Kin.

  Once freely roaming the ship again, Tundra led Vesarius back to the lift. The Kinpanion pawed the first level button. Smiling broadly, Vesarius followed his Kin out and down the hallway to the hydroponics lab. Inside they greeted Yuri Matsumoto and his otter Kin, Kite, as the two attended the deep aqueducts filled with water-loving varieties of Earth and Tloni foodstuffs. “Hello, Yuri. Any new hybrids?”

  Yuri paused to give his Kin an image instruction then turned with a grin at the Vesar’s question. “Ah, Tundra has told you about Kinnip, eh? Rather harmless stuff, or so the toxicity tests have proven. That’s not to say it isn’t addictive.” The smaller, slight man nipped some new growth on a tomato plant with bonsai scissors as he spoke.