by Laura Kaighn
“Does Coty know about this?” the Vesar queried of his crew, even as Alvarez clamped steel cuffs about his dark wrists. He received no reply other than a quick shove from Chauney.
“In the back, Commander.”
Vesarius tried to ask Sam Waters and Moxland Darby as he passed the crowded passenger compartment. It seemed they were all returning to the Pompeii in one trip. But no one would meet his gaze. Was it out of pity or disgust? Vesarius was unsure. Silently he strode to the rear and sat cross-legged on the floor, his bound fists in his lap. Alvarez and Chauney stationed themselves over him, their weapons at his shoulders.
Vesarius reassured himself that Coty would straighten this out. Perhaps, he wondered, this was another of the captain’s practical jokes – overreacting to make the Tloni diplomat seem foolish upon his return to the ship. Along the transport’s center aisle, Tundra watched him. Neesha hissed at the Alaskan malamute, preventing the dog’s passage with her greater tiger bulk. Whatever the cat must have imaged angered Tundra greatly, for the canine curled his lips and snarled as the transport lurched into the air.
Calm, Tundra, calm, Vesarius cautioned his Kin. This will all work out. Coty would clear up the misunderstanding; he had to. For now Vesarius glared at the back of Tlenck’s head, imagining he could get its furry mass between his shackled hands. No one looked at him; no one spoke. It was as if the warrior were some condemned criminal on his way to execution. The image was not a pleasant one, and Vesarius scowled in dubious silence.
* * *
Coty trotted through the corridor eager to intercept the arriving transport. The arboretum, Sheradon had said. That’s where she’d left the woman. Coty prayed he could find Dorinda before the Pom-3 docked. When the arboretum doors slid open, Coty stepped into the darkened garden, at once smelling its blooming snapdragons and roses. “Dorinda? Are you in here?” Sauntering forward, he noticed the open portal through the trees with its dotted starscape beyond. She had to be there.
He found Dorinda lying on her side before the viewport, Noah curled into the recess between her bent knees and elbows. The woman was peacefully asleep, and Coty was suddenly reluctant to include her in his plan. But Vesarius would need her, and Coty needed her now. Kneeling he shook her shoulder. “Dorinda?”
The woman stirred, opening her eyes. She looked up at him with such peace, Coty had to grin. “Captain. I ... I guess it was all a dream.”
“What was?” Michael Bear helped Dorinda to her feet.
“I was back in the Adirondacks with tall trees and bright stars. Noah was there, and I was taking you and Vesarius on a climb up Bald Mountain to watch the hawks soar in the thermals.”
Coty squeezed her hand in understanding. “It was a nice dream. Perhaps when we can return to Earth, you can make that dream come true.”
Dorinda flashed him such a warm smile then that Coty felt his cheeks redden. “That would be glorious, Michael. I could show you where I used to live. We could see if the blueberries are still there. If my husband’s blue spruce have grown tall.”
“Yes, Dorinda,” Michael Coty heard himself assure. His free hand caressed her cheek and he nodded. “It would be glorious.” Then he sobered; the magic was gone. “But I have some bad news. Vesarius’s been arrested. I need your help to clear him of treason.”
“Arrested ... for treason?” Dorinda still held his hand, and he felt her trim nails press into his palm. “What did he do?”
“I wish I knew more,” Coty answered with a grim frown. His shoulders tensed with barely contained anger. “Ambassador Tlenck intends to press formal charges when he gets here. He said he has proof that Vesarius’s an Orthop informant. The penalty for treason is execution.”
Dorinda’s eyes narrowed. “How can I help?”
Coty spread a crooked smirk. “You can keep Vesarius reasonable while I find a way out of this mess. Tlenck’s making this out to be a witch hunt, and you’ve got to stop Vesarius from inadvertently casting any spells. Come on.” Coty steered Dorinda toward the door.
The three of them arrived in the transport bay anteroom just as the space doors yawned wide enough to allow the Pom-3 passage. The senior Tloni at the bay controls announced their arrival. “Access approved, Pom-3. Docking sequence begun.”
“Acknowledged, docking control,” answered Trevor Dickson. The nose then body of the silver, bus-sized vessel glided through the opening to the central parking pad. There the transport smoothly pivoted about and settled. The Pom-3 squatted as its engine nacelles once more recessed into their belly mounts. What followed was a great hissing as the space doors rumbled shut and air was pumped back into the transport bay.
Coty, his hand about Dorinda’s arm, waited impatiently for docking procedures to be finalized. He stood by the inner door, ready to barge forward as soon as they opened. Unconsciously Coty clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding. He caught Dorinda’s concerned gaze and stopped.
“You’re worried about him,” Dorinda stated, green eyes crescents of compassion. “You’re a good friend, Michael Coty. Vesarius is fortunate to have your faith in him.”
“Docking complete,” Brend purred and depressed the hatch release. Coty propelled Dorinda forward. Noah bounded after them, chittering anxiously. Together they strode across the docking bay and were at the transport’s hatch before Tlenck could disembark.
“Ambassador,” Coty growled. “I warn you. Vesarius must be considered innocent until you can prove his guilt. Release him on his own recognizance. I insist.”
The ambassador hopped down to the deck and stood aside for the rest of the landing party to vacate the shuttle. “You of course will forgive me, Captain, if I insist he be held in the brig. A Vesar is a treacherous and deadly foe. He is quite capable of murder and mutiny. Cmdr. Tankawankanyi will be formally charged once I report my findings to Gen. Chan and hear his recommendations. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Captain. I am in charge here.”
Moxland climbed from the transport followed by Neesha and Dr. Waters. Both humans were visibly skulking. Waters found his voice first. “Sorry, Bear, but the ambassador’s right. The evidence is disturbing. I’ve tried to dismiss it, but the Orthop camp was there.” Sam Waters sighed and gestured to the woman beside him. “We found Orthop tablet shards. Moxie translated, and I dated other organic debris at around a decade old. The Pvokx was there at that time. There were no other authorized expeditions.”
Coty echoed Water’s frown. “But why Vesarius? Why not another Vesar? Why not another ship?” Just then the captain witnessed Judith Alvarez step from the Pom-3. Hefting Coty’s own multi-phase rifle, the security sergeant pivoted to watch the man behind her as he stooped to exit.
“Vesarius,” Dorinda called quietly.
To Coty the Vesar seemed disheveled and confused. His face was scoured dark; his hands were slack in submission, manacled before him. When Vesarius noticed his captain standing by the transport, he smiled anxiously. “I am starting to believe this is not a joke.”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Coty answered with regret. “It never was.”
“Captain,” Tlenck spoke up. “Your tracker was on Mytok ten years ago with his survey team. He found the city. He realized the Arch’s use, and he told the Orthops about it. Here is the proof.” Pulling two items from his belt pouch, Tlenck displayed them before Coty’s eyes.
Leaning forward the captain inspected the weathered objects. “What ... a translator?” Coty scrutinized the wrist device dangling from Tlenck’s pudgy fingers.
The ambassador’s muzzle curved into a toothy grin. “It speaks Orthop, Captain. Vesarius used it to talk to them. Something we cannot yet do. And this,” the Tloni added holding the second object nearly under Coty’s bronzed nose.
The captain shifted his gaze to the other item in Tlenck’s furry palm. His eyes widened. Tlenck held a Vesar medallion, complete with worn leather fringes still strung with a few beads. Though sandblasted and worn, the symbols etched into the metal and the arrangement of totem stones was unmist
akable. “Tankawankanyi’s family crest,” he muttered flabbergasted. Then Coty blinked. “You’re sure this was dated with the other artifacts? He could have dropped it yesterday.”
“No way, Captain,” Waters offered stepping forward to take the medallion from Tlenck. “This and the translator were buried with the crystal tablets and organic material dated to approximately nine point seven years ago.” The historian frowned. “I’m out of practice. Toh was the real expert. But the age and deterioration of the leather don’t allow refute. Toh’s notes confirmed their existence.”
“Besides,” Tlenck chimed in pointing to the stoic prisoner. “He still wears the medallion he had yesterday.” Only Coty could distinguish the slight hunch to the Vesar’s stance, the futility of argument. “Vesar, do you have anything to say?” Tlenck’s inquiry was coated in loftiness.
From beneath thick brows, Vesarius glowered at the Tloni. “May I approach my captain?” The Vesar was still flanked by his two security guards. In response to the request, Nicholas Chauney studied him with open suspicion. Coty noted the corporal’s finger twitch across his rifle’s trigger guard.
To Vesarius’ request, Tlenck nodded and waved the trio forward. The ambassador backed away slightly, however, and warned the corporal, “Watch him.”
Vesarius faced his commanding officer. Straightening shoulders, the warrior saluted with a twist of shackled wrists. “My life is in your hands, Michael Bear Coty. Honor me with your wisdom.” Next Vesarius bent to draw the survival knife, concealed in his boot, out by its jeweled hilt.
“The knife,” Alvarez realized too late. Nicholas Chauney reacted a micro-second later with his rifle stock to the Vesar’s bent skull. Vesarius collapsed to the deck from the concussion.
“Corporal!” Coty reprimanded as Dorinda gasped and knelt to help steady their friend. “That was unnecessary. He was presenting the weapon. It’s a Vesar custom.”
“Sarius, are you all right?” Dorinda asked lifting the man’s lolling head in her hands.
The warrior’s eyes were closed, creased in pain. Vesarius growled in his deep timbre, “And humans call us insolent.” His arm muscles worked shakily to shove himself from the bay’s deck plating.
Coty viewed the scene with fuming incredulity. “Help him up, Nick, before I throw you in the brig. And get those cuffs off him while you’re at it. He’s your superior officer for Sule’s sake.” In a moment, Vesarius’ arms were liberated. He was back to his boots with the security corporal supporting him from one side and Dorinda under his arm on the other. “Get him to Medical, Jude. And keep your partner’s impulsiveness to an intelligent minimum.” Coty’s command was accompanied by an apologetic glance to his Vesar friend.
“I’ll go with them, Michael,” Dorinda offered and started off, still helping to shore up the stumbling Vesar.
“I want him in the brig, Captain,” Tlenck objected. “You can’t be positive he was simply going to hand the weapon over to you.” The Tloni was watching the four people leave the transport bay. Tundra and Noah jostled along behind.
Coty knelt to retrieve the fallen knife then stood, turning the weapon in his hand thoughtfully. “There is an explanation, Ambassador.” Michael Bear raised menacing eyes from the blade. “With or without your cooperation, I will exonerate Vesarius and explain all of this logically.” The captain slipped the blade into his belt and pivoted to leave but was interrupted.
“Bear, wait,” Sam Waters urged stomping to block the younger man’s path. The historian placed a hand on Coty’s insignia-capped arm. The captain’s attention, however, was still intent on the departing security detail and their prisoner. “Vesarius is only part of the story.” Breaking contact with his crew, Michael Bear Coty noted the silver-haired Waters seemed deeply concerned. Genuine dread lurked behind the historian’s gray eyes. “We’ve determined that the Orthop camp was occupied for some time. We found Orthop carapace moltings. Bear, those buggers could have studied the Arch controls and its mechanics for years. We’ve got to find out where they’re building another time gate.” Sam finished his plea with a strong shake of Coty’s arm, forcing the captain to focus on his next words. “The Orthop gate is more important, Bear. You do realize that?”
Coty blinked against Water’s steely gaze. His voice was calm but grim when he assured, “Of course, Sam. We’ll get underway immediately for the Orthop homeworld. Meanwhile, I need to talk to Jonas about those engine modifications.” Coty patted his friend on the shoulder reassuringly. “I know my job, Sam.” With a stoic pout, the Pompeii’s captain marched from the bay.
Chapter 8: Traitor Betrayed
An apprehensive Dorinda stood nearby as Vesarius slumped upon the edge of a lowered bed while Dr. Sheradon ran a medical scanner over his cranium. “Nothing broken,” she announced aloud, no doubt for Dori’s benefit. “Fortunately for you, Commander, Vesar have hard heads and an armored spine.”
Maneuvering around her patient, Yolonda had to shoulder past a hovering Cpl. Chauney. “Do you mind, Nick? I’ve got a patient here who needs medical attention, thanks to you. You nearly killed him.” Glowering at the corporal’s hovering bulk the doctor elaborated. “For your information, a Vesar’s main carotid artery parallels his spine. He could have hemorrhaged to death had you ruptured it.” When Chauney backed off but raised his rifle threateningly, Sheradon grumbled her discontent. “Jude, call off your guard mutt, will you? Vesarius’s in no condition to fight. He couldn’t harm a shpleep.” Dorinda watched the doctor lift the Vesar’s bowed head and gaze into his half-closed, ebony eyes. “Come on, Sarius. How many fingers do I have?” She held up three digits of her free hand.
“Eight, plus two thumbs,” he mumbled. “I see three of them.” Then Vesarius groaned, raising his hand to rub the swelling at the base of his skull.
“Ah, ah. Don’t touch,” Sheradon warned. “You have a mild concussion, Commander. I’ll administer some Dramamine and an anti-inflammatory. Keep off your feet for the next forty-eight hours.” A moment later Yolonda’s nimble fingers had measured out the correct dosage of a clear liquid. She pressed the dermic gun against the warrior’s neck. There was a hiss, and Vesarius almost immediately perked up. “Now go with these two, and don’t cause any more trouble.”
“I was not causing trouble,” the Vesar argued, his deep voice but a meek echo of its former self. “See where I am? All I did was take bad scanner readings.” Vesarius shook his head, grumbling in bewilderment. “I cannot explain it.”
Sheradon patted his shoulder reassuringly and addressed the security officers. “You can take him away, Jude. See that he rests and keeps quiet.” She stepped aside.
Nodding curtly Alvarez strode forward to collect her charge. “Let’s go, Commander.”
“Where?”
“To the brig, of course. I have a nice hard bed for you to lie down on.” Jude tilted her close-cropped crown in good humor. “Sound tempting?”
“Do I get a bedtime story too?” To Dorinda the warrior seemed weary. Rising from the diagnostic platform, Vesarius was escorted to the door.
“Dorinda,” Sheradon called before she could follow. The doctor handed over a small tube of ointment and offered quietly, “If he’ll let you, spread this on his sand-burned face. It’ll give you a reason to get past the goon squad. Tell them it’s doctor’s orders.” Her mouth traced a crooked smile.
Returning the smile, Dorinda hugged the older woman warmly. “Thank you, Yolonda. You don’t believe he’s guilty either.”
“I’m afraid it’s not up to me. Gen. Chan will have the last say.” Sheradon squeezed Dorinda’s arm then pushed her away. “You better get going. Coty said you’re his guardian angel. Go. Keep Sarius out of the noose.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Dorinda rushed from Medical and caught up to Tundra and Noah a few moments later. Vesarius was in front of the group with Chauney and Alvarez close behind. The hot-headed corporal had still not relinquished his power rifle and was sporting it threateningly at the Vesar’s spine. Once they
reached the magnetic lift, Sgt. Alvarez insisted the Vesar and his escorts go alone. Dorinda had to wait with the Kin for the lift to return for them.
By the time Dorinda finally rejoined the Vesar and his guards, Judith Alvarez was finishing the locking sequence on the commander’s cell door. Vesarius stood just inside the dim cubicle leaning heavily against the open doorframe. His eyes simmered, obsidian pits. Nick Chauney, meanwhile, covered his prisoner’s middle with the muzzle of his plasma weapon from beyond the cell’s threshold. Behind Vesarius, Dorinda spied the sleeping platform, chair, and petite toilet facilities, the Vesar’s only amenities. Then the cell barrier slid closed.
“Wait,” Dorinda told Alvarez, stepping forward. “Dr. Sheradon gave me this for his skin abrasions.” She showed the security pair her tube of ointment.
“You don’t want to be in there with him,” Chauney warned with a jerk of his gun. “A Vesar’s dangerous, even if he is innocent.”
“Right, Nick,” Vesarius snarled. He glowered from the cell’s inset window. “I might rip her arms off. Tear open her throat.” Dorinda watched the Vesar huff. Then, head hanging, he twisted from his captors. The warrior tromped to his bed to flop facedown. The platform creaked in protest beneath his wretched weight.
“We don’t need to hear your ravings,” Nicholas Chauney barked. He punched the mute button beside the cell door.
Dorinda considered the prone Vesar through the plastiglass portal for a long moment before renewing her plea. “Dr. Sheradon gave me orders to treat his injuries. I do have medical experience.” Now Dorinda sighed and faced the more reasonable of the two guards. “Look, Sgt. Alvarez. I’m not a member of the crew. If he takes me hostage, you can let him kill me. Please. You don’t really believe Vesarius is a traitor, do you?”
Alvarez frowned. “What I believe has no bearing. The evidence is overwhelmingly against the commander. The Vesar are a warlike race.”
