by Laura Kaighn
Stalling in mid-step, Vesarius listened for a reaction, any movement of carapace or claw. Only the whistling of abdominal spiracles hissed in answer – the Orthop equivalent of snoring. With a slow, silent breath of air, Vesarius reached for the wall again. He found a solid handhold and pulled himself up with the next ascending tendril of perfumed air.
He was now out of the cave and under the meager canopy of twinkling stars. Focusing on the rock face, Vesarius grasped higher and lurched upward. His leather-booted toes clung to the near vertical surface. Every time he replaced his step, more loose gravel trickled down the cliff. His breathing came in heavy gulps of chilled atmosphere. No noise. He must not make noise. No deep movements against the mountain. His boots must work like feathers.
Like Earth elephants, Orthops had a sixth sense which allowed for even the lightest vibration of air or solids to be felt through their splayed foot-claws. He must pause to listen for any disturbance not his own. Higher, farther away. He would catch his breath, then ascend some more. Once out of vibration and hearing range, he could run.
Aware that any attempt at escape might darken the rebels’ hearts about his safety, Vesarius heaved himself higher until he felt a horizontal ledge on which to haul out. Flat on his back, he regained his breath and nerves. Vesarius next contacted Tundra again. He projected an image of stars and the outside of the cave. He was free. No need for the rescue mission. He did not warn his Kin of his lingering peril, however. No need to worry Dorinda. This was his call, his folly. A Vesar warrior did not sit to await rescue. Nor did one needlessly endanger his loved ones.
When he viewed Tundra’s position – the Orthop city still behind the malamute – Vesarius scowled into the dark. Go back!
Then, with a shove of renewed conviction, Vesarius scooted against the inner wall of his tiny ledge. He folded his legs. So concealed from eyes below, he glanced down at his former jail cell. There was still no indication that his dozing guards had moved from their posts. He had a good chance to get away and rendezvous with Dorinda’s team before they came too close.
Then a hum arose in the distance, two dim lights in the night. Podships! The healer was arriving and would be expecting a Vesar patient.
Before the podships’ roving headlights could find his little refuge in the rock face, Vesarius jumped to his feet and spun back toward the vertical cliff. With a frown, he remembered his childhood jaunts to the summit of Rhaza Mountain, behind his mother’s homestead. This was just like home. Only here he was climbing for his life, not for adventure.
Trying not to scramble, Vesarius hauled himself higher. He no longer stalled when loose gravel was disturbed. The podships would soon be in search of him. He had to get higher, farther away. Then a huge boulder skulked in his path, taller than he and twice as wide. Sidestepping carefully around it on his precarious ladder of crumbling stones, Vesarius crawled to curl out of sight.
Just in time, for the podships were descending upon the camp below. One beamed a spotlight past his last foothold, just seconds after he had retracted behind his rocky shield.
He could not remain hidden, however. Once they discovered that he was gone, drone soldiers would be scouring the mountain slopes. There was, however, one tactic the warrior could risk to better his odds of escape: a deadly distraction.
Sucking in a determined breath, Vesarius pivoted his buttocks until his back was against the mountain’s stony flank. He bent his knees to his chest then lifted his boots to plant them firmly against the boulder before him. With another deep inhale, Vesarius pushed with all his might. His intent was for the behemoth to totter away and down the rock face. All he heard through blood pumping ears, however, was his own grunt of effort and the trickle of a few pebbles. Vesarius relaxed to catch his breath.
He needed to cause mayhem, disorient and kill some of his foes and give himself a chance to switchback down the mountain. If he could reach the plateau, his longer legs – in the thicker, cooler atmosphere – could make up the distance to Dorinda’s rescue team. They would not have to risk their lives for him.
With an urgent twist of his entire frame, Vesarius felt along the bottom of the obstinate boulder for any loose stones he could swat away from its leading edge. One wedged slab seemed his main obstacle. Not even his knife blade could pry it loose, and now he could hear the grating staccato of Orthop language weaving up with the breeze. They knew he was gone.
Slipping his knife back into its sheath, Vesarius jumped to his boots to search for a better option. Halfway up the boulder there protruded from the wall a tiny shelf of jagged crystal no deeper than his foot. From that seat he could increase his leverage three-fold. Quickly Vesarius scrambled to the shallow ledge. He maneuvered himself to where his heels were resting against the boulder’s spine, nearly at its shoulder. Bracing his hands against the rock wall to either side of him and nearly curled into a ball, Vesarius then gathered a final, determined breath. He heaved with the remainder of his strength.
The boulder groaned; several smaller stones beneath its bulk cracked and popped. Vesarius groaned as well, shoving until his thighs quaked. He was barely aware of the jagged shelf digging into his exposed flesh. The stone giant tottered forward then rocked back on some invisible fulcrum. No! He had to get it beyond the immovable wedge which was its barrier. The weight of the boulder alone would crack it, split the slab, and remove its burden from the rock’s downhill journey.
With a hasty gulp of air, Vesarius heaved the boulder away again. The blood vessels in his neck bulged with the strain. Face flaming and legs quaking, Vesarius growled at his lack of progress. Then a great pop, and the boulder lumbered forward tipping downhill ... then stopped.
“No!” Vesarius yelped. He hopped from his tiny ledge to give the rock a final shove. It teetered, twisted then leaned back toward him as if on rollers. Caught against the rock face, Vesarius could only jump back against the wall, tuck his legs up, and shunt once more.
With a deep, reluctant moan and a popping of more rocks, the boulder pivoted sideways then toppled off its ancient ledge for the fully lit campsite below. Vesarius’ frame slid to the now vacant sill. He gasped as his side impacted sharp gravel. Then his legs were slipping past the edge, his body threatening to follow the rumbling stone down the cliff. With a desperate snatch of mountainside, Vesarius held on as a shower of smaller stones committed suicide after their parent. In a moment, all was still and quiet except for the Vesar’s rasping gulps of life-sustaining air.
Vesarius settled onto his spine, swallowing against his parched tongue. He must go quickly, beyond the ledge and down the mountain. But the warrior’s thighs were aching pillars of trembling flesh, and his lower abdomen was warmly wet with pulsing pain. Vesarius forced his muscles to obey. He rolled onto his stomach to shove his arms beneath him.
He must flee or he would be recaptured. They knew where he was now. Once the Orthops had recovered from the rock fall’s wake, the survivors would be combing the cliff. With a burst of inner fortitude, the Vesar climbed to his feet and teetered against the rock face. He halted his fall with outstretched hands then twisted to face the night sky and his only way down: a jagged path of pebbly debris off to his right.
Legs pulsating in protest, he lurched forward and stumbled down the narrow runoff ditch gratified that it led away from the rebel campsite. Vesarius was more agile than an Orthop on foot, but he could not outrun a podship. Accelerating his descent, the warrior was nearly tumbling along the path. He laid out his arms to control his slide down slope.
A plasma pulse zinged past his head not half a meter away. Damn, the rockslide had not slowed them all. And Dorinda was still hours away, coming for him. If only he could evade pursuit, hide out, then get to a podship. He could pilot himself away from danger.
His boot caught on an unmoving stone. Vesarius was abruptly diving downhill head first. Reaching an arm out at a passing mountain shrub, Vesarius grunted in shock as his body, like a pendulum, swung out over another outcrop. He dangled above a
crevasse many meters deep. Perhaps I should have let them vivisect me. Then he found a handhold to grasp with free fingers. Next he twisted his boots down to the wall below and immediately touched solid floor. Perhaps not.
Legs still quivering from their previous abuse and his side aching from an as yet undisclosed injury, Vesarius loped along the ledge, hopped to the next horizontal landing, then bolted for the nearest plateau. In the dimness of the moonless night, Vesarius could just discern a navigable trail leading down to the flatter foothills of the mountain. There he would find water and cover, perhaps even a meal.
He would never make it that far.
Suddenly a light beam arced around the mountain humming his way in great illuminating sweeps. Damn. He needed cover. Then two more podships roared aloft searching in the darkness. Vesarius dodged about an overhang just as a beam swept in front of his path. Panting in chilling breaths, Vesarius waited for the searchlight to move on before bolting again.
The ground was littered in tumbled boulders, fist-sized debris and smaller mountain chunks. Vesarius was cautious of his footing, but found it difficult to watch the sweeping spotlights at the same time. When another beam arched back toward him, Vesarius dove for a huge crag of crystalline granite hoping he would be in its shadow when he landed. He hit the gravelly earth hard, rolled, and slammed against the rock just as the podship’s spotlight shone overhead. It panned past his outstretched boot. His partly dislodged knife gleamed in the brightness. “Huaj´im,” he cursed and snatched his foot back into the shadows hoping it had not been noticed.
What followed was a frantic blur. A plasma shot singed the spot where his boot had been. Next a fiery blast split the crag above him. Vesarius flinched at the flying shrapnel and launched himself away. Another burst spat against the strewn field; the Vesar was propelled forward by its explosive concussion. He landed meters away in a crumpled heap. Woozy from the ordeal, the Vesar witnessed a pair of Orthops lumbering toward him. One tilted its abdominal spinnerets for a stream of engulfing thread. Vesarius’ legs were promptly immobilized. They next hauled him from the ground into their mantis forelimbs. With a stab of hot pain, Vesarius swung his free arm to fend them off. In response he was sideswiped in the jaw. He remembered nothing after that.
* * *
“You are injured?” Dorinda’s Orthop guide asked when she paused in her trek to grab her face in one palm. The night around them was barely bright enough to see the cracked earth beneath their feet, yet Dkettk had witnessed her flinch in sudden pain.
“I ... My head,” she stammered wincing again. “It’s a sharp twinge. I can’t explain it.” Then the ache along her left jaw and temple pounded away to a deep pulse and quickly faded. Shaking her vision clear, Dorinda realized she had halted their advance. “Guess I’m worrying myself up a headache. Blood pressure spiked. We’ve got to get to those foothills and Vesarius before dawn.”
“Warm-bloods seem to have a problem with pressure,” Regeg quipped his foreclaws swinging with every stride. Dorinda’s wrist translator continued to interpret the insectoids’ vocalizations. “The rebel leader did promise not to harm Storyteller. Your pressure should revert to normal knowing that.”
With a chuckle, Dorinda shook her head and resumed their journey. “It’s not that simple, Regeg. We humans worry even if we’ve been promised otherwise. You see, I know Vesarius. He’s out there, on that mountain, free but on the run. Tundra’s already told me he’s angry about us not turning back. He’d rather get himself out of tight spots than risk anyone else. Someday he’ll get himself killed,” Dorinda added with a frown.
“You do not wish that,” the third Orthop, Ktok said, tapping her on the shoulder.
“No. Your storyteller’s precious to me. That’s why I’m not giving up.” Then a curious thought made her turn to Dkettk. “Do Orthops risk their lives for their companions? Do you have enough ... compassion to die for that friend?”
Dkettk’s eyestalks twirled slowly as if in deep thought. Before he answered, he crossed his foreclaws in the darkness. Dorinda was coming to understand the gesture as more than a show of respect. It was also a sign of serious veracity. When Dkettk spoke, it was from his insectoid aorta. “We do not show such loyalty to another. Our compassion comes after death when we consume a fallen comrade in honor of his bravery.”
Dorinda shivered, but not from the chilly breeze across the desert. “You eat your friends?”
Dkettk clamped his mandibles, a sign of matter-of-factness. “It is customary. We have done it for generations.”
Perhaps, Dorinda considered, it was also a survival tactic. When resources were depleted, one did not waste. Soylent Green, Orthop style. This time she did shiver from the cold. Noah groaned beside her. Smiling, Dorinda shrugged. “I know, Slink. You warned me. I should have brought a heavier jacket.” Then she had another curious thought. “Dkettk, how fast can an Orthop travel by foot?”
“You mean our top speed?”
“Yes, running ... or loping ... however you travel.”
“We hop, Jade,” Regeg informed evenly. “We have long legs for nothing else.”
“But your puny limbs are not meant for hopping,” Ktok said patting her thigh from beside her.
“No, but I can run,” Dorinda offered. “And it’ll make the journey go quicker while warming me up at the same time.”
“What of your Kin? Their legs are shorter than yours,” Dkettk argued.
“Well, Tundra can keep up. But Noah’s a swimmer, not a runner. Especially not in this clay.”
“Then we will carry him, and you once you tire of running on your puny legs,” Regeg offered.
Smiling broadly, Dorinda had to admit, the Orthops had a humor not unlike the Vesar: crude and mocking, but all in fun. “Let’s get moving, then.” She started off at a jog. Chirping his complaint, Noah jostled after her but quickly tired of the chase. With a mournful wail, the otter planted his webbed feet in the cream-colored soil and plopped back on his rounded haunches.
Slowing to a stop, Dorinda spun on her Kin in time to see Regeg scoop up the otter. Together they bounded forward, Noah cradled to the Orthop’s thorax upon the hard shell backs of his curving foreclaws. The slinky Kin clutched his insect mount and emitted a high-pitched stream of Mustelid protests.
With an amazed grin, Dorinda watched Regeg pass her. At first the Orthop lumbered awkwardly picking up speed. Then in one great leap and a frightened squeal from Noah, Regeg launched himself into the air. The creature bounced with legs like spring laden pistons. “Wow!” Dorinda exclaimed. Then with a yelp, she too was lifted into the darkness. With an arm around Dkettk’s thick carapaced neck, Dorinda was bounding toward the not too distant mountains on the insect’s version of a kangaroo hop.
With Dorinda’s excited laughter, Noah soon settled down, but he refused to image to her for the remainder of the night. Only Tundra spent the extra energy to communicate with his friend. Though not her Kin, Tundra could still image his picture words to Dorinda. Mainly due to his own high PSY rating, but also because of the strong emotional bond he held with the woman. Dorinda had been bonded to the Alaskan malamute once, when they had both thought Vesarius dead.
Now Tundra forced an image into Dorinda’s head, a picture of Vesarius’ face contorted in pain. “He’s hurt?” Dorinda leaned to look back over Dkettk’s eyestalks. “Tundra,” she called. The loping malamute’s tongue lolled in exertion behind them. “Can he tell you what’s going on?” The dog could give her no answer, and Dorinda was uncertain whether the image had been a warning or an actual event. “Dkettk, are you tiring? I’m afraid we must hurry. Tundra thinks Vesarius’s in great danger.”
“I can carry you until the new brood, Puny Legs. Ktok can carry your other Kin as well. The animal grows weary of running after us.”
“Tundra, let Ktok carry you. It’s the only way, boy.”
With a growl, Tundra trotted off away from the trio of bounding insects. It seemed the Alaskan malamute had for too long hated Ortho
ps. He was not about to change. Dorinda couldn’t blame him. Orthops had abducted his Bondmate. She was grateful that at least Noah was complying, albeit silently. An Orthop had also been the cause of grief for the otter. Noah’s former Bondmate Jonathan Torch had been blown in two by a powerful rifle-bearing Orthop just months ago.
Grimacing in indecision, Dorinda swallowed her worry for the dog and ordered, “Top speed, Dkettk. We need to be there before dawn.”
With a burst of speed from her bearer, Dorinda shivered in the Orthop-induced wind and prayed they wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter 10: No Harm
A strange grating noise encircled him. The volume made his ears ache. “He is awakening from hibernation,” someone said. The words were strangely mechanical, un-alive. Vesarius rolled his head to face that disembodied voice but groaned as every muscle in his face and neck clenched in protest. “It seems he will survive,” that voice spoke again. “You risked killing him tonight,” the speaker next berated another.
“He killed six of my comrades, Healer. I could not risk any more deaths, or losing him. We are but few compared to the hive.” The second voice paused as if to compose calmer words. “You have finished with him?”
“Yes, Gluctg. He will serve your purpose ... as long as you do not waste your chance to fulfill it.”
There was a sudden smack of hard-shelled mandibles. “We will succeed. There is no honor in complacency. Peace means the death of our people. We will not allow it.”
“Big words, Gluctg. Make it so. I must return to the city before I am missed.”
Vesarius tried to open his eyes, but the lids were weighted in titanium. With another groan of pinching nerves, his aching head drifted into the void once more. It was not until sometime later that he was shaken conscious.