by Laura Kaighn
* * *
“Hard about, Zan,” Coty instructed his stand-in navigator. Zaneta Talyabo maneuvered the Pompeii into a hard right turn changing the ship’s course by one hundred twenty degrees. An Orthop torpedo grazed the Pompeii’s flank and rocked the ship violently. “Target that podship, Flanders. Get it off our backs.”
“Yes, Sir.” The young ensign at the weapons console placed his eyes against a hooded viewscreen concentrating on his target. “He’s darted out of visual range again, Captain.”
“Quick little bastard. Like a troublesome flea with a firebrand bite.”
“Sir,” Sam Waters called from the science station. “Scanner sweep indicates two Orthop baseships nearing this sector’s perimeter. Company’s coming.”
“Damn,” Coty growled swiping dark bangs back from his high forehead. “Zan, get us out of here. I want to be in orbit around Orthop in five minutes.” Coty swung his seat around to the communication station. “Moxland, transmit peace messages, all frequencies. Patch it through the translator and pray it understands enough Orthop to make a difference.” Coty registered her acknowledgement and twirled back to the main viewer.
To everyone he announced his intentions. “We’ll open negotiations, asking that the time machine not be activated.” Glancing sideways, he locked a serious stare with his navigator. “Zan, if at any time the main scanners pick up the Arch’s energy flux, set course for that location and execute.” The captain pivoted to the right. “Sam, I’ll need the proton shells trained on that site. On my order, the machine will be destroyed.” Coty sighed soberly. “It’ll be hit and run from there, people. Our chances of returning to Alliance territory will be slim. So if you have a god, pray.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be optimistic, for our sake, Bear?” Sam Waters asked sourly. The historian slid his chair along the track on the floor and snapped it into place in front of tactical. From there he could link the secondary scanners with the weapons’ controls. Young Flanders relinquished the station to his older crewmate as Sam announced, “Ready, Captain. Time for those buggers to pray.”
Coty pondered the implication. “I’m curious to know if they have a god, Sam.” Resigning to his ignorance, the captain leaned back in his chair and grunted. “Perhaps if we knew more about them, negotiations could be successful. This may be a lost cause.”
“I hope you’re wrong, Bear,” Waters countered obviously aware of the consequences.
Coty nodded soberly. “So do I, Sam. So do I.”
* * *
Vesarius reactivated the transport’s scanners for a quick sensor sweep of the area then shut the equipment down quickly to analyze the data. He was aware that Dorinda peered over his shoulder. “How close are we to the Pompeii?” Her emerald eyes sparkled seemingly mesmerized by the information flashing across the computer screen.
Able to process the figures faster than she, Vesarius answered easily and continued scrutinizing the next batch of readouts. “She is in orbit around Orthop. We will be there in twenty minutes.” He read some more. “What concerns me is the mass of activity around her. The Pompeii has transmitted her peaceful intent, but she is still being barraged by podships.”
“Can the ship hold out for long?”
Vesarius nodded eyes still scoping the data collected from his sensor burst. “For twenty minutes, yes. Her friction shielding is sufficient. But I am starting to think we will need to head straight in for a landing, no time to drop you off at the Pompeii. I must get to the Arch and the queenkeepers there.”
“Not drop us off?” Tlenck’s agitated alto squeaked from the back. “You intend to take us down there with you?” The Tloni’s voice rose in volume. “With them? I don’t wish to die, Commander. You may not care what happens to yourself, but I will not allow my aide and me to be torn apart or cocooned by those beasts.”
“Sarius,” Dorinda said quietly her eyes round with alarm. “Is time that critical?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder.
The Vesar’s obsidian gaze met hers. He recognized her fear. Dorinda did not want to die either. “We will see,” he reassured, patting her hand. “Perhaps the Orthops will withdraw their defenses.”
Using his scanners again in a series of short bursts over the next twenty minutes, Vesarius was able to ascertain the Pompeii’s status. “She is under heavy guard,” he told his passengers. “By coming in close, we will draw attention to ourselves.”
“Is there anything we can tell them that would allow us safe passage?” Tlenck inquired, now seated directly behind the Vesar. “Transmit our own peace message. I will speak to them.” Scooting around the pilot’s chair the Tloni stood beside the communication grid.
“No.” Vesarius elbowed the furry ambassador away from the controls. “I am the negotiator. I will speak to them.”
“But you admitted, Commander. You’re no diplomat,” Tlenck disputed with a jerk of his tail. “Do you perhaps intend to intimidate the Orthops? That will get you dismembered for sure.”
“Ambassador,” Vesarius countered, his eyes shadowed beneath heavy brows. “I am the only one here who understands the warrior code. Orthops would see diplomacy as a weakness. Coercion is my only course.”
Dorinda pressed the Tloni away and knelt beside the pilot’s chair. She rested her hand on the Vesar’s bare forearm to ask, “What will you tell them?”
“That I am their warrior brother, sent by the Great Oneness to save them.”
Tlenck guffawed nervously. “That’s wonderful, Vesar. A lie. That will really intimidate a planet full of insect monsters, each one of them a third taller and better armed.”
“It is no lie.”
“I want to come with you,” Dorinda nearly whispered, still locked on his obsidian gaze.
“A bluff, then.”
Vesarius ignored the cynical Tloni. Instead his stone orbs narrowed in disbelief at Dorinda’s statement. “Why?”
She lowered her emerald eyes. “Because I’m afraid you’ll die.”
“You wish to protect your investment in our friendship,” the Vesar chided.
“No!” Dorinda disclaimed, cringing. “I don’t want you to-”
“Say no more.” Vesarius raised a hasty hand to stall her. Ignoring Dorinda’s distress, he spun back to his console. “I must contact the Pompeii for landing clearance. Then I will request safe passage from the Orthops.” The commander raised his voice to address everyone. “Return to your seats and strap in.”
Reluctantly Dorinda rose from the deck. Vesarius heard her slide into the chair behind him and pull the shoulder harness down. She snapped the buckles into place at her waist. Glancing over his shoulder, the warrior noticed Dorinda’s resolute jaw. Yet her eyes were glassy with emotion. She would not look up at him. He considered his console again, spine rigid.
“Pompeii,” the Vesar addressed the communication grid. “This is the Pom-3. Request clearance for docking,” When there was no immediate reply, Vesarius repeated his petition. “Pompeii, this is the Pom-3. May we proceed with docking?”
“Vesarius, I want an explanation,” came Coty’s irritated voice through the transport’s speakers. “We are a little busy right now.”
“Bear, I have no time. I need to dump my cargo.” To help in his own defense, Vesarius added, “We are a bit exposed.”
“Clearance granted ... Grudgingly, I might add. I hope you intend to block any fireworks they shoot up our ass.”
“Understood, Captain,” Vesarius acknowledged. “Pom-3 out.”
“What was that last?” Tlenck inquired from the seat behind Dorinda.
“A torpedo fired in through the transport space doors would cause irreparable damage to the ship’s fifth deck, and to engineering, one level down.” Vesarius’ big hands flowed over the control panel. “The Pompeii would explode.”
“Hold onto your seats,” Roshana Zlenko advised from the cabin’s portside. Gripping her chair, she explained, “This’ll be one hell of a landing.”
Vesarius harrumphed. “
You have heard of my jump-shot piloting.”
“I never thought I’d be a victim of it,” Zlenko stated smirking.
“Victim?” Tlenck stammered, then swallowed. “I have an aversion to that word.”
“The term ‘passenger’ is too benign,” Vesarius retorted and hit the accelerator. The Pom-3 lurched ahead to dodge the first podship that darted to intercept it. “Brace yourselves.” Vesarius next threw the craft into a tight starboard turn, ducked it under another podship then set the controls for a dash toward the Pompeii and its yawning space doors. The forward viewport swelled with the metal framework of the Pompeii’s transport hold.
Dorinda gasped. Tlenck groaned. And Zlenko beamed as Vesarius shot them into the lighted bay then quickly reversed the ion drives. Everyone jerked forward in their seats. Vesarius’ fingers swept across the controls. The transport pivoted to clang against the deck. With a quaking shudder, the Pom-3’s engines powered down to a loud purr. Beyond the vessel’s hull, the echoing roar of returning atmosphere issued within the bay.
“All right, people. You know to find the door.” Vesarius spun around to regard his passengers. “Thank you for flying Vesar Stellarlines,” he added with a smug grin.
Tlenck didn’t need to be told twice. Gathering his blanketed aide in his furry arms, the ambassador escorted Glon toward the Pom-3’s opening hatch. With no time to retract the engine nacelles, Vesarius nodded for Zlenko to leap from the transport as catcher. It was a one and a half meter drop to the deck. Glon cringed as he hopped through the hatch into the woman’s arms.
“Departure on my mark,” Vesarius told the bay controller from the pilot’s seat.
“I’ll need clearance from the bridge,” Brend challenged through the commgrid.
“Make it quick,” Vesarius snapped. Someone was standing behind him. “Goodbye, Green Eyes.”
“I’m staying,” came her trembling reply.
Vesarius spun his chair around sighing. Her face was pale, but Dorinda’s chin was held high, ready for protest. “Dorinda,” he reasoned calmly, “you cannot come with me. I will be too busy protecting myself to protect you.”
“But I can help you reason with them. Tell their leaders about human history and war. About the benefits of peace.”
Vesarius simply blinked at her. “I may have to kill their leaders,” he retorted. “Orthop may not be ready for peace.”
“But you said -”
“I will speak to them, yes,” Vesarius interrupted. He stood and grasped her quivering shoulders. “But there are no guarantees. If they do not agree, I must use the Arch to prevent this meeting from ever occurring. I know I must use the Arch. In another timeline, I failed and had to leave this calling card.” He held up the weathered medallion. “I died in that past. But in this parallel time plane I must go back and succeed. The information I have gathered from the crystal shards will help. I did not have them last time. I now understand what I must do.”
Dorinda stomped her foot in frustration. “But I don’t understand. Time travel, parallel universes? Mytoki children, not their descendants? I don’t want to understand. I only know that you’re going to leave, and I want to be with you.”
“Dorinda,” the Vesar interjected shaking her silent. “You cannot come with me. It must be a time loop I am locked into. The two machines are linked because of my passage from the present to the past ten years ago. I did this alone then, and I must do this alone now.”
“But ...” Dorinda murmured meekly, “then I’ll be alone.”
Vesarius bent merry eyes to lock with hers. “You will never be alone as you were in your woods,” he explained softly. “There is so much life out here among the stars. Let Noah and Coty show it all to you.” Suddenly he was surrounded by her arms. Her sling strap nearly choked him. Dorinda’s head bumped his family crest, pressing against the sensitive chest ridges beneath. Vesarius winced at the stabbing impact.
“I don’t want you to go,” she half sobbed into his chest.
“I know.” Vesarius stroked Dorinda’s auburn hair and fondly fingered her braid. “I do not desire to leave, but I must. This is too important.”
“Vesarius?” Coty called from the repressurized bay. His captain was coming. Then a furry mass dove in through the transport hatch nearly knocking the pair over. Like bowling pins they tottered upright still arm-in-arm.
“Tundra,” the Vesar exclaimed happily tugging the Alaskan malamute away by the scruff of the neck. “It is good to see you too.”
“Sarius, what’s going on? Tlenck said you’re -” Coty appeared in the doorway of the transport and regarded the two wrapped in each other’s arms. “Excuse me. But I want an explanation. You requested departure. Just where the hell are you going?”
“Down to the Arch,” Vesarius answered pressing Dorinda close against his side. He patted the malamute’s shoulder with his free hand. Wiping tears, Dori held her face away from the captain.
“Alone? Why?”
“Dorinda can explain. I must leave now.” Releasing his embrace, Vesarius took the woman’s hand and silently set his second medallion into her palm. He curled her slender fingers about its intricate crest. “For you.” Next he leaned past the pilot’s chair to poke two switches, powering up the transport’s twin engines. The Vesar then turned back to his captain’s confused expression. Slapping a half closed fist over his heart, Vesarius announced, “Honors to you, Bear Coty. I trust we may meet again, in another time plane perhaps.”
“But ...” Coty stammered.
“Take care of Dori for me.” Vesarius gently relinquished the woman’s frame then knelt to take Tundra’s head in his hands. There was a silent moment of communication before the commander slapped his Kin’s rump. Tundra spun on his heels and bounded from the transport only to leap back in a moment later Vesarius’ pack in his mouth. “Thank you, my friend. I know that everything is here.” The Vesar took the bundle and levelled both his spine and resolve. “Leave me now. I have an errand to run.”
Coty was eyeing the warrior’s leather pack, however, as Vesarius scooped his hand into the bag’s front pocket. “You’re looking for this,” the captain said. He handed over the warrior’s survival knife handle first. Smiling crookedly, Vesarius nodded his gratitude. He accepted the gift from his spirit brother yet again and bent to shove the silver blade into its boot sheath. “You’re going to destroy the Arch,” Coty tentatively posed as the Vesar straightened.
“No,” Dorinda countered. She clutched the silver medallion in her injured hand. Her gaze was downcast, distant. Vesarius watched her take the captain’s arm then pull him toward the hatch. “He’s going to prevent its construction.”
“What?” Coty followed Dorinda out through the doorway as Tundra leaped to the deck and barked for them to hurry.
Vesarius hit the hatch lock with his fist then slipped into the pilot’s seat. His fingers bounced over the console setting course and landing instructions. A moment later, his clearance came.
“Honors to you, my friend,” Coty said through the speaker. Vesarius heard Tundra’s yip farewell and a low croaking mumble that was Dorinda’s valediction.
“Brahmanii Sule breathed life into our souls and gave us joy,” Vesarius responded. “May She show you many gifts, Green Eyes.” Then, shutting off the communicator, the warrior’s attention focused on the yawning bay doors. The starfield beyond was clear of podships. They had withdrawn for the moment. He would have a clear shot at landing.
Vesarius flared the engines; the Pom-3 rose from the deck. Firing ion thrusters, the warrior lined his craft fully toward his only exit. Then, within the bay’s anteroom, he caught a glimpse of Coty wrapping a consoling arm around Dorinda’s trodden shoulder. With that as his final image, Cmdr. Tankawankanyi blazed out into the speckled depths of space.
Chapter 11: An Untimely Death
With his scanners on full sweep, Vesarius eyed the blips that were Orthop podships hovering in the distance. “Watching me like glazelh bees about a flower,�
�� he murmured. Vesarius spun to pick up the weathered translator from the seat behind him. “Let us talk,” he challenged and laid the wrist unit beside the comm-grid.
Flicking both devices on, the Vesar addressed the baseships he knew were nearby and listening. “I speak to all honorable Orthop warriors,” Vesarius began. He was conscious of the translator’s clicking and grinding sounds. “I have come to speak of strength and glory. I have come to talk of shared wisdom and a great danger to all Orthop citizens. I bring a warning but also a grand story of wonder and discovery. Allow me safe passage to the surface so that I may tell this story to your Wise Ones.”
Vesarius continued on his course through the atmosphere to the large, populated area his scanners showed. There he was sure to find the seat of Orthop government, their Orthop leader drones, and a great stone arch.
It was several minutes, however, before he received any transmission in reply to his request. Then a grating sound filtered in through his comm-speakers followed by the hollow voice of the translator. “Two podships will escort you, Storyteller, to Kcluchtt City. Do not deviate from their course heading. Our torpedoes are trained on your craft.”
“I do not doubt that, honorable warrior. I am Tankawankanyi.”
“That is a Vesar title,” came the inanimate reply. Vesarius swallowed. Had he discerned an irony to the acknowledgement? Did Orthops have emotions? The translator was, of course, incapable of interpreting beyond literal meaning. Vesarius warned himself not to be presumptuous or anthropomorphic. What could be seen as amusement or surprise to his ears may not interpret as an emotion at all for the Orthops.
The Vesar consciously kept his own words and tone neutral. “Yes,” he asserted, “I am Vesarius, Vesar warrior.”
