Warrior Heart

by Laura Kaighn

  “Yes.” Dori exchanged a bewildered look with Zaneta Talyabo.

  “Good. I will tell you what I want you to look for, and you will tell me when you find it. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Yes, that’s fine,” Dorinda replied still stunned by the Tloni’s fortuitous offer.

  “Fine. Then let us get busy. I have taken up occupancy in one of the Pompeii’s smaller conference rooms. We will review these there. Follow me.” Dorinda forced her slack jaw shut and reentered the lift, Noah in tow.

  Once the doors sealed them in, Dorinda had to ask, “Ambassador, why are you letting me help you? I was trying to help Vesarius. Isn’t it against your best interests to let me look at these?” She took some of the printouts from the Tloni’s stouter arms.

  “On the contrary, Ms. Tanner,” Tlenck answered simply. “You are the best example of the commander’s innocence.” He tilted his pointed muzzle at her. “I have come to know him through all of you. Your willingness to help Tankawankanyi, in spite of the incriminating circumstances, indicates to me a deep faith in his character.” They exited the lift onto Deck One’s corridor of conference rooms and executive functionals.

  “My guest quarters are just down the hall,” Tlenck informed. “I’ve had a frequent visitor there. The commander’s Kin, Tundra, has been keeping a close eye on my movements. Actually,” the Tloni admitted, “I expected the Kin’s involvement. And Coty’s.” He guided her into a conference room sporting a rectangular table and five chairs. “But I did not expect Alvarez’s or Lt. Cmdr. Talyabo’s dedication.” The pair set the readouts down together on the table. “Or yours, Ms. Tanner.” Straightening Tlenck considered her for a moment with his deep violet orbs. “You are the woman from the past.” The ambassador motioned for Dorinda to sit down.

  Gratefully she sank into a chair and rested her tired arms on the tabletop. “Yes. I was trapped here when the Pompeii destroyed the Arch.”

  Tlenck angled his furry head to regard her critically. “And what is your relation to Cmdr. Tankawankanyi? Do you care for him?”

  Dorinda’s chin dropped to her chest. “That’s a rather personal question, Ambassador.” Dorinda straightened her tunic nervously. “We’ve saved each other’s lives. I guess that makes us friends.”

  Tlenck’s eyes narrowed. He leaned into the table, paws splayed atop its smooth surface. “Nothing more than that? I must know before I allow you access to this case. You see, it seems I’m in need of a full-time assistant. My aide, Glon, has fallen ill.” Tlenck must have seen the instant concern in Dorinda’s eyes and so explained, “Tloni gemyon-pox. Non-fatal. Dr. Sheradon believes he may have contracted it during our short stop at Fronznee Two.” Tlenck sighed and continued his former inquiry. “I need an open-minded person, Ms. Tanner. Everyone else aboard the Pompeii already has a job to do. Jobs I do not envy, considering their destination. I need to know how you feel about Tankawankanyi. I will not tolerate a love sick human as an assistant.”

  Dorinda’s cheeks burned craters into her ivory complexion. “Look, Ambassador,” she spat, fingers tightening to fists. “I’m not in love with anyone, haven’t been for a long time. If you need me because I’m the only non-commissioned person onboard this ship, fine. But don’t make false assumptions. I can read ... and I can think.”

  At her adamancy, the Tloni’s ears flattened against his rounded skull. Tlenck blinked his large, almond eyes, tongue coursing over bucked teeth. “You have a fire inside of you, Ms. Tanner. And a quick mind. I believe you will do well. Now, here is what I want you to search for ...”

  Chapter 9: Trial Transport

  Vesarius sat brooding on his bunk, back against the cold steel wall. His Fury abated, the Vesar was beginning to accept his fate. Coty had not visited. The captain was more concerned with the second time machine, no doubt. The existence of it put the entire Alliance in jeopardy.

  Vesarius knew; within the galactic scheme, one dishonored warrior would make little difference if the timeline suddenly switched gears. He and Coty would never meet. Vesar’s civilization would revert to an earlier, more barbaric time. Vesar Prime would once more become an overpopulated world of savages, killing each other for land and ladies. In a different time plane, Vesarius, himself, might never be born, nor even his parents. Vesar would be left vulnerable to chaos in the wake of resource depletion and Orthop invasion.

  Or would the Orthops, instead, feel less threatened without the Alliance? Would the insectoid race simply leave Vesar to its own destructive economy in the new time plane? The possibilities were endless, and Vesarius’ brain was throbbing from a combination of frustration and previous injury.

  Resigning to his discomfort, the warrior laid his head down gingerly on the bunk’s cylindrical pillow and closed his eyes. As he was dozing off, Tundra imaged a distressing message. Dorinda was helping Tlenck. The pile of Pvokx logs was now in the Tloni diplomat’s possession. Not even Coty could stop the inevitable; and it seemed Dorinda had abandoned him too.

  “I am going to die,” he mumbled. It was just as it had always been. Vesar were assumed hostile even without provocation or intent. Allowing the aching in his head and hand to color his world black, Vesarius drifted into darkness. There, he saw no future. Instead his sleep was haunted by a shadowy past, a nightmare of Mytoki sand and hostile Orthops.

  They greeted him with disbelief when he arrived through the Arch. He was too late. The Orthops were there already. One towering creature grabbed his arm easily hefting him from the stone platform. Vesarius bellowed in frustration and pain. His mission. He must destroy the Arch!

  Vesarius was carried to the Orthop campsite outside the city. His only chance now was to destroy their history book, kill all the Orthops there. He must succeed.

  The creatures conversed in grinding, clicking argument, deciding his fate. Listening through the translator strapped to his wrist, Vesarius realized they were going to eat him. The arrows in his pack had explosive tips. He would destroy them all. When his carrier set him down, Vesarius instantly bent to set the charges. He would die a warrior’s death.

  The hum of the cell door opening, and its subsequent flood of light, dragged Vesarius from the horror of his nightmarish visions. He tried to move, but his arms were being bound in a security harness. Shadows were moving over him with dark, angry eyes.

  “Quickly. Secure him,” a familiar voice commanded. Tlenck. Vesarius struggled more desperately. “Nurse, the dermic gun.”

  Someone pulled aside his braid and pressed a cold metal instrument against his neck. It hissed. Vesarius sighed as the coolness raced to his nearby heart, then throughout his body. The warrior’s muscles became jelly. His eyes rolled back into his head. Blinking Vesarius forced his gaze toward the figure standing over him.

  Her face was in shadow, but her loose hair was radiant in the brighter hallway beyond. It shone a fiery auburn. With remorse she murmured, “I’m sorry, Vesarius.” Cpls. Zlenko and Chauney next hefted him from the bed and dragged him toward the door. “This was the only way.”

  “Dorinda, no,” Vesarius was able to mumble. He then fell silent, the drug winning over his will.

  * * *

  Dorinda chewed her lip as she followed Tlenck and the security guards. They escorted the sedated and bound Vesar to the transport bay not far from the brig.

  Coty and Tundra met the group in the anteroom. “I’m against this, Ambassador,” the captain said even as he followed them out to the waiting Pom-3. “But I don’t have the authority, nor the time, to stop you. My current orders are quite engaging, and we’re only two hours out from Orthop space.” Coty caught Dorinda’s anxious gaze. “My second navigator estimates arrival at the Orthop’s homeworld by nineteen-hundred hours tomorrow. If all goes well and we’re not blown out of existence by a squadron of attack ships.”

  Dorinda noticed Tlenck’s muzzle frowning over his incisors. “I wish you wisdom, Captain. Because of your delay and Glon’s illness, I’ve been forced to consolidate my transport crew.” Tlenc
k then turned toward their pilot who stood beside the prepped Pom-3. “How are we for fuel and supplies to reach Fronznee Two, Lt. Dickson?”

  “Fuel and food for six only, Ambassador. Our current distance from Fronznee has widened the margin for error.”

  Dorinda watched Tlenck’s tail whip sideways. “But that means I must either leave one more security officer or Glon here on the Pompeii. I wanted three security, not one.”

  Trevor Dickson shrugged. “Sorry, Ambassador. Unless you let Tankawankanyi fly the transport.” The pilot glanced over at the slumped Vesar being supported by Zlenko and Chauney. “Even if that were OK, he won’t be in any shape to fly for several hours.”

  “Take it or leave it, huh, Tlenck?” Coty asked his eyes piercing with some inner triumph.

  The Tloni ambassador shuffled his foot-paws in irritation. “It seems I have no choice.” He glanced at Dorinda with uncertainty. “As the Vesar’s nurse, can you keep him sedated so he won’t struggle free of his harness? I need assurances that the commander will cause no trouble. I do not intend to leave my apprentice here, possibly to die. No offense to you, Captain.”

  Dorinda swallowed her knot of responsibility to offer a stoic nod. “I can handle him. I agreed to help you so that we could avoid further conflict.”

  Tlenck returned his violet gaze to the Pompeii’s captain. “Then, Coty, I will leave Cpl. Chauney here with you. Ms. Zlenko should be sufficient security.”

  “Sir,” Chauney protested, “I have seniority over Zlenko.”

  Coty smiled crookedly. “But she’s the crack shot. And she has an even temper.” Ignoring Nicholas Chauney’s heated stare, the captain gathered Dorinda’s hand. “You promise to keep Vesarius from getting himself killed?”

  Dorinda smiled slightly, but her eyes no doubt exposed the guilt of her betrayal. “Captain’s orders, Michael. And I am making progress with the logs. There’re only seven Pvokx officers who could have impersonated Vesarius. Once we get to Fronznee for refueling, I’ll have the ambassador check on their whereabouts.”

  Coty patted her hand. “You’re doing a fine job, Dori. And you’re a good friend. Vesarius’ll understand why you’re doing this. Give him time. And if I never see you again ...” Coty bent to kiss her lips – a warm, friendly goodbye. “Take care of yourself as well. If the Orthops have their way, we’ll have never existed. You’ll be back on Earth in the past. Casey will be very happy.”

  “Thank you, Michael,” Dorinda mumbled and turned to leave. But a furry body was under her legs. Dorinda knelt down. “Oh, Noah, I’ll see you again. We’re bonded, remember?” She squeezed the otter a fierce hug. “I’ll send for you when this is over. No matter where I decide to stay, we’ll always have each other. I promise.” Dorinda released her Kin to wipe damp eyes. When she looked up, Tlenck was already inside the transport with Dickson. Coty was by the hatch watching Zlenko and Chauney maneuver the groggy Vesar in through the opening.

  Once Dorinda joined them, Coty offered his final instructions. “Trevor, keep to radio silence. Under no circumstances may you call the ship. We’ll be in enemy territory and won’t need you advertising our position.” Coty turned to consider the distress on Dorinda’s face. “Say goodbye to him for me. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have never met.”

  “I will, Michael. And you’ll make it work. I have faith in your character.” The two exchanged friendly, hopeful smiles. Then Dorinda climbed up into the transport. She stepped to the rear where Vesarius drooped in a chair, his arms and torso contained in the heavy straps of a security harness. Dori watched Chauney nod his good luck to Zlenko and Dickson before hopping from the transport. Their entire complement was now just six sentients.

  Dorinda bent to see that Vesarius was comfortable, if barely conscious. Then she moved forward again to check on Glon. The Tloni sat shivering in another chair, a blanket around his fawn-furred shoulders. When Dickson turned to regard his passengers, Glon returned the human’s stare with a nervous smile showing pearly incisors. “You don’t seem comfortable,” Dorinda asserted, adjusting the blanket more tightly about the young apprentice.

  “Just a little shaky, Missss,” Glon reassured through his teeth. “Dr. Sheradon says I will recover in a week or so. There will be Tloni doctors on Fronznee to give me special care.” The young Tloni smiled again. “Thank you for taking my place. I truly did not anticipate falling ill.”

  Dorinda patted the Tloni’s shoulder. “That’s quite all right. This way I get my wish.”

  “Strap in everyone,” Dickson ordered over his shoulder as he set the controls and powered up the engines. “We have clearance for departure.”

  Dorinda sidestepped to the seat in front of Vesarius, unnerved to see the warrior’s head lolling uncoordinatedly. Her lungs caught in a deep, regretful sigh. The Vesar was being demoralized before his crew. And Dorinda had a hand in that dishonor. As if he had tapped her thoughts, Vesarius lifted ebony eyes and for a moment was able to focus on her concerned gaze. The rage she saw there was broiling with betrayal yet lukewarm with defeat. Dorinda stifled a gasp of shared despair.

  She could not, for a moment, let Tlenck believe she was anything but an objective assistant and dutiful nurse. She had, after all, let Sheradon hurriedly instruct her on the fine points of Vesar physiology and the use of a dermic gun. Spinning back to the bow, Dorinda avoided further conflict by plopping into her seat. She tugged the safety straps down over her shoulders. Hopefully, she’d be given an opportunity to redeem herself in the Vesar’s eyes.

  Then the transport rose on its engine nacelles. Despite her regret at deserting Noah and betraying Vesarius’ trust, Dorinda gulped in anticipation. Her eyes rounded with wonder as the Pom-3 shot into the vastness of space. She was suddenly surrounded by stars. This was no dream, no IMAX theater experience. Dorinda Tanner was actually out in space, farther than any human from her time had gone or could have imagined. The sensation was both marvelous and claustrophobic. Dorinda’s heart skipped several blatant beats.

  God was out here among this vastness. Dorinda was tempted to reach out, to touch the speckled velvet. She next realized there was cold and lifelessness here as well. Space was a double-edged blade of wonder and frigid death. Dori was safe only because she was cocooned within the transport’s technological shell. Her body was fragile. Dorinda glanced over her shoulder at the slumped Vesar, his well-toned, muscular frame slack in a drug-induced stupor. He was fragile.

  Dickson piloted the transport around its mother ship, and Dorinda got her first look at the Pompeii. Her initial impression was of a stylized nuclear cruise missile sporting streamlined, forward swept wings. Cylindrical engines budded from those wingtips which curved slightly downward in a graceful arc. The effect was of a winged, mechanical dragon, its great appendages poised for a swift pulse of restrained thrust. A third propulsion unit perched upon the creature’s spine. Glowing a bright orange-red, it seemingly gained fire from the creature’s gut. As Dorinda watched through a side viewport, the Pompeii’s lower nacelles flashed alive. The dragon-like ship darted away, soaring toward its intended fate in Orthop territory.

  “Goodbye, Michael.” Dorinda did want to see the Pompeii’s crew again. Her return to the past should not cost the lives of an entire Galactic Alliance, generations of spacefarers all seeking to live in harmony. If there was poetic justice, Dorinda surmised, then she was meant to be here. Smiling to herself she watched the stars sparkling beyond her side window. After a few minutes she sighed and lifted the stack of Pvokx printouts to her lap. There Dorinda continued sifting through the data, seeking pertinent facts for Vesarius’ defense.

  “E.T.A. at Fronznee Outpost: five days, two point five hours,” Dickson announced from his pilot’s seat. “Get comfortable, people. We’re in for an uneventful tour of the tail end of the galaxy. No hyperspace conduit to speed things up. Not even a nebula out here to brighten the view.”

  “We are at maximum propulsion?” Tlenck inquired. The Tloni diplomat was seated in the chair acr
oss the center aisle from Dorinda. He too held a stack of printouts in his furry lap.

  “Cruising at ninety percent,” Dickson responded. “I want a reserve boost in case we run into Orthops or pirates.”

  “I see.” The Tloni sighed then offered a new query. “Mr. Dickson, at full thrust what would be our difference in arrival time?”

  After a moment’s calculation, the pilot answered, “Thirteen point four hours, mark, if I boosted her now.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant. Carry on. If I foresee a need to increase speed, you will be instructed to do so.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Trevor Dickson spun the chair back to his control panel.

  All was quiet for a long while as Dorinda busied herself with the Pvokx log reports. Tlenck reviewed his own notes silently. Soon the only sound heard over the rumble of the transport’s engines was Glon’s wheezy snoring from the front.

  * * *

  Coty ordered the Pompeii’s engines reduced to a cautionary forty percent as they neared the outer boundary of Alliance territory. The captain was stiff in his command seat, chin perched upon fist, gazing out at the less familiar starscape. At nearly forty-five, Coty’s spine protested the enforced vigilance. Their journey would become more harrowing from here.

  “Entering Orthop-controlled space in four minutes, three seconds, mark,” Zaneta Talyabo announced from Vesarius’ navigational console beside the lift tube.

  Coty nodded at the information. “Increase scanner sweep to extend past the border, Lieutenant. We’ll continue at this reduced speed.”

  “Aye, Sir. Orthop homeworld nineteen hours away at forty percent speed. That’s if all stays quiet,” Zaneta added after a thoughtful pause.

  “Acknowledged.” Straightening within his chair, Michael Bear Coty turned to the science station where Dr. Waters sat analyzing the scanner sweep. “Sam, deploy a scout probe. Pilot it out ahead of us at full propulsion and to maximum distance. I want extra eyes out here. Plus it can act as a decoy if we need it.”