by Laura Kaighn
Slowly the herbal fragrance melted into his consciousness. The birdsong and lapping water converged to a background ‘ohm’. The Vesar’s thoughts turned inward as he breathed deeply the potpourri of boiling plant stuff. Upright and still, he dreamed...
Vesarius was home, a mere child once more. His father stood tall and imposing over him, a Vesar crossbow in his arms. The elder warrior’s braid was short with given honors, his shoulders broad and powerful. From Father’s chest hung the medallion of his matriarch, a vibrant and honored crest. Young Tankawankanyi wanted his mother’s medallion to be as important. He toyed with the silver crest and totem-beads hanging from his small leather tunic. “Father, why must I learn to shoot the crossbow? It is heavy and kicks back at me.”
“Honor, my son,” Father answered in his deep, abrasive voice. “A Vesar’s honor is his most important asset. And honor is maintained by following tradition. All warriors learn the crossbow and the knife.” Father handed the boy the weapon again, reloaded. “A warrior must be able to defend his home, to protect his family. There is still a need for these things. Your duty is to your mother and me. Aim now.”
The vision from his past faded into a smoky fog then coalesced into his mother’s face. Vesarius smiled for she was the beauty he remembered. Mother’s shocking, coal-black hair flowed loose, decorated in thin braids accented with the Tankawankanyi totem-beads.
“My son. You are my joy.” Her voice was as smooth as darlogk skin. “Take these stones and fashion your totem amulet. They will protect you always as your father’s does him. But remember their power, and arrange the beads properly so that the energy flows freely to your soul.”
“Will I feel anything? Will I change?” the young Tankawankanyi asked cradling the small beads in his hands, dark eyes wide.
“The stones will give you strength. They will guide you to see the truth in everything. The stones are pure and potent. Use them in your meditations to seek your fate, my son.”
“Yes, Mother.” The child marched off with his precious handful of power.
Vesarius’ hand reached to his chest. He felt only the tingling of his bare chest ridges, hard beneath the warm skin. Opening his eyes he noticed the sun had slid farther across the sky. It was now mid-afternoon. With a satisfying ease of movement, the Vesar rose from his healing fire and doused the dying flames with his herbal pot, now only a quarter full. The fire pit hissed at him but slowly slunk back to sleep.
As his mind awakened from his meditation, a deep rumbling grumbled from his gut. Vesarius smirked; it was definitely time to eat. Striding up the steps to his clothes, the Vesar redressed, again favoring his healing ribcage.
When he had retrieved some of the dried venison from the food preserver unit, Vesarius returned to his pack and pulled out one of his newly purchased books. Then easing himself into an Adirondack chair, the warrior began to flip through the table of contents looking for passages that might shed relevance to his predicament.
Finding a page, Vesarius read aloud, “ ‘I celebrate myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.’ ” Vesarius allowed his ebony gaze to flow over the words of Whitman as he gnawed on the dried meat that was his simple meal.
* * *
Dorinda heard the chime at her cabin door over the inset ear device speaking to her through the datapad on her lap. Someone was outside to see her? Setting down the digital history book and plucking out the ear piece, Dorinda patted her Kin on the shoulder. She slid out from under his round head. “Scuse me, Noah.” She strode from the couch to the door.
When it hummed open, Capt. Coty stood in the corridor hands behind his back. A nervous but hopeful expression hung on his bronze face. “I want to apologize for last night, Dori.” He presented her with the bouquet he had hidden with his body.
“Michael, you don’t need to apologize.” Dorinda took the flowers from him and backed away to allow him entry. “We were both hot-headed and unreasonable.”
“Then can we try it again?” Coty asked earnestly. He stepped inside and the door dutifully closed behind him. “You really do show a knack for target shooting. I think you could improve immensely with more practice.”
Dorinda sniffed at his fragrant gift. “You stole these from the arboretum?”
“No. Yuri grows them in the hydroponics lab.”
“He must have them well stashed,” Dori countered. “I didn’t see any roses or fuchsia last time I was in there.”
“Yuri’s prized petals are babied in a back room. You’ve seen his bonsai? Well, these are even more precious to him than his trees.”
Dorinda’s eyes widened. “Yet he let you cut them?”
“Well, Kite and I kind of made a deal.”
Noah chirruped nervously at the mention of Yuri Matsumoto’s otter Kin. “And what did that entail?” Dori asked suspiciously curious.
Coty beamed. “Dinner with us. Sushi and salmon steaks.”
“Uh-oh, Noah,” Dorinda called over her shoulder. “You better hide. They’re at it again.” The otter groaned and bounced to the bed. Slinking beneath Dorinda’s coverlet, he flattened his body against the mattress. Dori chuckled.
Grasping her arm, Michael pulled Dorinda close. “I chose roses because I want you to know just how I feel about you. About us.”
“Yes, Michael?” Dori’s voice was suddenly husky. She could not avoid his deep jasper stare.
“These past three weeks, I’ve found it hard to concentrate on my work. Your face keeps materializing behind my eyes.” Coty swallowed and seemed to compose his words. “Dori, I’ve seen your resilience, your courage. Through all that you’ve endured, all that you’ve witnessed, you remain so compassionate and caring. I ... I can’t help but love you.” The man’s eyes were round with expectancy.
He wanted her to respond. Dori cleared her throat softly. “Michael, I ... uh, I don’t know what to say. We’ve really learned to lean on each other since Sarius ...”
“Then, is it so wrong for us to be close?” Michael had both arms on her now. “Dori.” He spoke over the perfume between them. “If something good can come from this, we both deserve it.”
“I know that. And I do care for you.” Dorinda laid her free hand against his cheek. Michael turned to kiss it. “I’m just not sure what I’m feeling.”
Michael Coty eased his grip. With a complexion shadowed in guilt, the captain took a step back. “I’m sorry. I’m pushing, and it’s wrong.”
When he turned to leave, Dorinda reached for his arm. “Wait. It’s not wrong. I ... I’m just stubborn. My life’s been a whirlwind since Vesarius blew that tire. I just want everything to slow down so I can focus on today.”
Smiling gently Michael Coty cradled her cheeks in his hands. “You’ll make it work, Dori. You’re strong, and oh so beautiful.” He kissed her forehead then smiled again. “Is dinner all right with you?”
Dorinda smirked. “Does Noah have to come?”
Chuckling in reply, the captain glanced over at the breathing bed. “No. He can hide all night if he wants. I’ll tell Kite he fell through a disposal unit and got shot into space.”
Dorinda waggled a finger. “Now, now, Michael. Don’t worry her. She’s really a sweetheart, and she is in love.” Dori leaned onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’ll come get me?”
Coty nodded at her and pivoted to the widening door. “Wear something green,” he added over his shoulder as he strolled away. “You always look stunning in green.”
“All right,” Dori called after him. She spun back to her Kin when the door hummed shut. In her fervor Dorinda squeezed the bouquet. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel happy, Noah, but I do.” With a swing of the fragrant blossoms she bounced back to her couch. Delicately Dorinda splayed the bouquet upon her dresser then returned to her history lesson.
Picking up the databook, however, Dori found she couldn’t concentrate on the words. In resignation, she set the device down. “There’ve been so
many changes since I left Earth. I’ll never fit in.”
Noah poked his head out from the bed and chirped reassuringly. “Yes,” Dori answered him. “I hope the lake and the mountains are still the same. I need their stability, especially now.” As she tried to read once more, scented flowers beside her, Dorinda’s thoughts floated away to her own recent history.
Brahmanii Sule, he had said, breathed life into every soul and gave each joy. Who was it, then, that took a Vesar’s life and left pain? With a sudden exhale, Dori dropped the history text onto the couch. Her emerald gaze fell upon a silver oval lying beside the colorful roses and fuchsia: Vesarius’ family medallion. Dorinda closed her eyes and tried to picture the Vesar warrior’s face.
A sudden panic gripped her. She could remember his ebony braid, his brawny arms, even his square chin, but Vesarius’ face eluded her. Where had his memory gone? Was a month’s worth of distractions enough to erase his features from her mind? Dorinda vaulted to her feet. “Tundra, where are you?”
The image came back to her; he was in the arboretum with Moxland and Neesha helping Eva with the grounds keeping. “Tundra, I need you.” Dorinda’s heart raced. “I can’t remember his face. I’m starting to forget. God, I want to remember him.” Dorinda paced the cabin while Noah stood by moaning softly, trying to calm her. “Why can’t I see him? Noah, what’ve I done?”
The dog bounded in a few moments later and pushed Dorinda toward the couch. “Tundra, show me Vesarius.” The Alaskan malamute locked gray eyes with hers as Dorinda sat and gripped the Kin’s thick-furred mane. He projected as clear an image of his former Bondmate as he could.
“Yes, Tundra, that’s it. I see him. His eyes, so dark and brooding. Show him smiling.” The canine Kin concentrated on the Vesar’s wide mahogany mouth. “No, his whole face,” Dorinda protested, panic rising again. “His eyes used to twinkle with mischief when he smiled.” The malamute barked his frustration and leaned in to her. Dorinda enveloped Tundra’s great neck. “I’m sorry too, boy. It’s useless.” Tears that had been absent for weeks were suddenly wet on her cheeks again. “Oh, Damn,” Dori cursed. “We need to find Michael.” Standing Dorinda brushed her face with the back of her hand. “Come on.” The three of them exited the cabin in search of the captain’s counsel.
* * *
Out on the cottage’s porch, Vesarius lounged in the late afternoon sun, his copy of The Portable Walt Whitman flopped text down on his leather-clad leg. The air around him was warm for once, and the warrior was enjoying the freedom of bare arms. His serenity was broken, however, when the distant bark of a large dog tugged his mind back to his real home.
Opening his eyes, the Vesar lifted his head. He closed the book and laid it on the end table beside his Adirondack chair. Then, setting his legs against the angled front, Vesarius pushed himself out of his seat. He cursed his still twinging ribs. Why were they taking so long to heal? The Pompeii would be here any day, and Coty would get the message Vesarius had left for him with Gen. Chan. It was time the Vesar made his decision to stay or leave. Did he want Dorinda to know that he was alive? If so, how would he explain to her his obligation to his family? How could he even see her again and reject her once more?
Vesarius wandered his way to the lake and squatted on the beach, elbows on his knees. He gazed out across the tannin-stained water. The osprey was still there, hunting for the last fish of the evening. A cool breeze drifted, and Vesarius shivered. He was alone. It seemed Tankawankanyi had always been so. In effect, he had had no right to accuse Dorinda of hiding from her people. She at least had a choice; he did not.
His arms pricked with goose bumps, Vesarius stood rubbing them in the growing shadows of the trees. “I cannot bow to cowardice,” he whispered eyes downcast to the dark water. “I must be truthful.” Swallowing dryly Vesarius made his decision. “I will stay to await her.” The Vesar nodded.
The white and sienna-painted hawk circled overhead, silhouetted against the angled sunlight. “Do you hear me?” he called after it. “I will stay.” A warmth coursed through him then; he would see her again. Dorinda’s emerald gaze was just behind his eyes, and Vesarius smiled, inhaling the fragrant pine and sweet balsam fir of her Adirondack wilderness.
Turning away from the osprey and its lake, Vesarius strode back to his fire pit. He would fix his daily batch of healing herbs. So far, they had been helpful in easing his soreness and clearing his mind. His meditations were productive now. Past memories flowed freely, defining his life, revealing the warrior’s true spirit.
As the water boiled and steamed the herbal brew to his nostrils, Vesarius folded his legs and rested his wrists on his knees. His eyes drifted shut. Then, when the Vesar allowed his thoughts to drift as well, an image skirted his consciousness, fuzzy and undefined. “Tundra?” Could the malamute be trying to contact him? A low growl assaulted his ears. Vesarius raised his lids.
The wolf was small, nearly two thirds the size of his former Kin. It stalked around his fire just beyond the flickering shadows. Twilight now, Vesarius could see the flames’ orange glow reflected in the animal’s almond-shaped eyes. He noticed the wolf’s drab coat and protruding ribs. This loner was starving in the midst of the deer rut. It growled again.
Slowly, Vesarius lowered his arms from his knees watching the pacing predator for any sign of boldness or desperation. “Easy, boy,” he soothed aware that his spare pistol was in his pack, behind him on the porch. “I am not very tasty. And my hide is probably too tough for your palate.” Cautiously, Vesarius gathered his legs under him. He must not run. Keeping his voice calm, Vesarius rose to his feet. “Easy, boy. I am not here to be your dinner. I am just a lonely soul like yourself.” Vesarius backed up toward the porch as the emaciated wolf circled around the fire pit sniffing at the boiling herbs it must have thought were food. Food. Vesarius had several pounds of deer meat still in the cottage’s freezer. If he could get to it, and the wolf did not shy away, Vesarius could save both his own skin and the sickly animal’s.
His left boot banged the first step. Guided by the railing, Vesarius backed up onto the porch then twisted to find the door inside. The wolf yapped but did not charge, and Vesarius closed the screen door with relief.
While he was retrieving the packaged cuts, however, the Vesar caught a snuffling sound just outside the kitchen. The wolf had scaled the steps. “My pack!” Cursing, Vesarius rushed to the porch to see the animal stick its head into his open rucksack. It chomped down on the bags of healing herbs within. “Get away,” Vesarius shouted. “You will be a dead wolf for sure.” Startled, the predator jerked its head back and shook the plastic and dried plants from its frothing mouth. Vesarius shoved open the screen door with his free hand to toss the venison onto the lawn with his other. “Go on. Get the meat. Leave my medicine alone.” Vesarius waved his mahogany arms at the animal. Growling its frustration at the foul tasting herbs, the wolf spat and choked its way to the grass. Vesarius watched as the starving creature trotted off, coughing and sputtering, back into the darkening woods. It left the frozen meat unsniffed and uneaten.
Resigning to the worst, the Vesar retrieved his upended backpack. He dumped its contents out onto the patio’s gray floorboards. Then, flopping down beside his possessions, Vesarius scooped up the spilled herbs. He set them in a pile on the edge of a side table. Next he wiped off his dirtied copy of Thoreau’s Walden and brushed plant bits from his disassembled crossbow and pistol. Lastly, Vesarius checked for punctures to his explosive-tipped arrows before replacing everything in his pack.
Vesarius then climbed to his feet. He swung the pack inside the cottage’s doorway. Returning for his handful of herbs and their shredded bags, Vesarius swore, certain the remainder would last only another two days. “Huaj´im.” He dumped the mixture of dried leaves into a single, slide-sealing bag from the kitchen.
Stoically, the Vesar dropped the bag into his open pack, closed the back door, and retreated to his bedroom to draw on one of the two sweaters he was now grateful he p
ossessed. Another cold night was ahead.
Vesarius settled onto the threadbare couch in the living area, appreciative of its added warmth. He opened his Walt Whitman again. Within an hour, however, the Vesar was asleep, sprawled across the cushions, his braid hugging his neck.
Chapter 14: Future Shock
Absently Dorinda watched as Tlant and Glon boarded the Alliance transport squatting on the Pompeii’s bay deck. It had come to take their small delegation down to Earth’s surface. Earth of 2105. Dorinda swallowed. Not her Earth. Yet still her closest home. Dori’s private thoughts once again focused on her uncertain future. She was about to face yet another hurdle.
“Ready to go?” Coty asked from where he stood beside her.
She snapped back to reality. “Yes, Michael. But I’m ... nervous. Even scared. It’s not my home anymore.”
Coty squeezed her hand. “It’ll all be wonderfully new to you.”
Dorinda shrugged and sighed. “I still think I’m going to be terribly out of place. One hundred years is over four generations. If I track any family down, they’ll be my great, great, great, grand nieces and nephews. Not really family. ... Not anymore.”
Beside her, Coty twisted a crooked grin. “Then you’ll just have to settle for the crew of the Pompeii. And me, I suppose.”
Dorinda smiled too and stroked the older man’s cheek. “But you’re too old for me. You said so yourself.”
Coty’s lips pursed. A singular brow twitched. “It’s us or nothing.”
“Extortionist.” They both chuckled softly then turned to follow Tundra and Noah up into the borrowed transport.
“Dorinda! Take care of yourself,” Sheradon called after them. Dorinda swiveled to see a small assembly of the crew approaching. She gasped and quickly moved to hug the doctor. “What’s all this about?” the older woman asked returning the embrace.
