Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  “Brune? You called him that twice.”

  “It is the commander’s birth name,” Tolianksalya offered simply, “as Karn was his father’s. All Vesar males are given a birth name.”

  Dorinda smiled despite her unease. “So you don’t take a number. I’ve been wondering about that since Michael first called you ‘Vesarius’. If this is a private matter, then only immediate family would know these names?”

  “Yes,” the ambassador agreed grimly. “My staff does not know mine, as I do not know theirs.”

  “Then I won’t pry,” Dorinda announced with a quiet smirk. “But, please, tell me more about your customs with names.” She followed her request by placing her hand on the ambassador’s cloaked arm. Perhaps there was still a chance to remedy the conflict. “I’ve a million questions, actually. Your clothes, your family crests, your customs, foods, holidays-”

  Tolianksalya chortled with amusement. “I see now why you are so adaptive. You hunger for new knowledge.” He nodded decisively. “Come. We will sit and discuss it. I welcome the distraction from my work.” Patting her hand, he moved to lead her back to the chairs.

  Dorinda hesitated. “I’m sorry. You must be very busy. I’m keeping you from your work.”

  “Not at all, Jade.” The ambassador patted her hand again. “Even diplomats are entitled to what humans would call ... a coffee break? I will enlighten you.” With her hand in tow, Tolianksalya steered Dorinda toward a pair of seats facing the starry portal. “You asked about our names. What do you desire to know?”

  Dorinda settled into her chair pulling up her knees before her. “I’ve noticed a pattern … of syllables and vowels. Is it so with all family names?”

  “Five syllables with a vowel ending, yes,” confirmed the Vesar diplomat. “It is also true that all males are given single-syllable birth names and females given three-syllable ones. It is a tribute to Brahmanii Sule, a tradition dating back many centuries.” Tolianksalya’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “I am not quite sure of its ceremonial origins.”

  “I bet Sarius would know,” Dorinda stated. “He’s a hobby historian. He pieced together the Orthop plan to bring back the Mytoki through the time Arch.”

  “The commander knows history as well as storytelling?”

  Dorinda nodded. “And some Earth literature. Emerson, Frost, Thoreau, Whitman. He knows a bit of botany and mechanical engineering too. He even designed his own scanner.” Dorinda studied her knees before admitting, “I was going to have him learn the flute. Then he found out you were coming and smashed it.”

  “A Vesar ceremonial flute.”

  “Yes,” Dorinda confirmed then blushed. “It was my bonding gift to him. I gave it early because he thought I’d die if I attempted Vwafar´ee.” She released a tense breath. How had she gotten back on this subject? “It’s a long story, Ambassador. One I’m sure you’d loath to hear.” Slumping in her chair, Dorinda kneaded her hands atop her lap. “No matter what you decide, we’ll be together. I don’t think destiny would separate us now … not even in death.”

  Squaring her jaw, Dorinda raised her emerald eyes to the elder Vesar. “If your heaven won’t accept him, mine will. Sarius no more deserves Huaj´im than you deserve to hate him.” Dorinda rose from her chair to consider the man’s stern features. “The past is past, Ambassador.” She swallowed hard the knot in her throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go admit my moment of impulsiveness to my mate. He didn’t want you to know about us. I just hope he doesn’t throw me out of his cabin ... literally.”

  Turning from the brooding Vesar, Dorinda marched for the door. She murmured an angry reproach. That had been a wasted trip. How could she live surrounded by all this dogged arrogance? Even Vesarius’ got in the way, as it would in a moment when she told him what she’d just done.

  Had Dorinda really expected compassion from Tolianksalya? Striding down the corridor to the lift, Dorinda berated herself. She’d lost control. What had happened to the pleasant conversation? Definitely a wasted trip.

  Upon entering the lift, Dorinda pressed her lips together to stifle a frustrated expletive and ordered the third floor. She was such an emotional klutz. Now she’d hurt him ... even dug the wound deeper. “Damn it, Sarius. Why did you even help save me? I’ve been nothing but a burden to you ever since.” A singular tear tumbled along her nose. Dorinda sniffled back her frustration and launched herself through the opening lift door. Then she was marching down the corridor past her cabin to Vesarius’, several doors down. Halting before the closed door she remembered how tired he had been, how his head had ached, and she berated herself again.

  She shouldn’t bother Vesarius with this now. He had enough to worry about. With an indecisive huff, Dorinda turned back toward her cabin to see Tundra trotting her way, Dr. Yolonda Sheradon in tow. “What’s going on?” She was surprised when they stopped in front of her.

  “Vesarius,” Sheradon answered with a quick exhale. “Something’s wrong.” Medical bag in hand, Yolonda shouldered past Dorinda to stride into the Vesar’s quarters.

  “What’s wrong?” Dorinda spun on the heels of the yipping malamute and followed the doctor inside. “Sarius?” The Vesar was trembling upon the bed, his bare torso bathed in sweat, apparently still asleep. “I left him only an hour ago. He took the dermic shot then climbed right into bed,” Dorinda updated quickly.

  Sheradon, busy with her scanner, shook her head. “I can’t find anything wrong. He’s in REM sleep. Looks like he’s experiencing a nightmare. But Tundra said he couldn’t wake him.”

  “Oh, neither could I,” Dorinda blurted. “When we were in the transport, he’d fallen asleep. He was dreaming, but I had to yell at him to wake him.”

  Stepping aside, the doctor waved her over. “Then yell at him again. This isn’t natural.”

  Rushing forward, Dorinda leaned to grasp the Vesar’s ridged shoulders. “Sarius, wake up. Come on. It’s Dori. You’re scaring me, Sarius. Wake up.”

  “Slap him,” Sheradon suggested.

  “Why?”

  “The physical stimulus’ll help.”

  Grimacing in reluctant compliance, Dorinda raised her left hand and palmed the Vesar’s right cheek.

  “Harder, Dori. And keep talking to him. I’ll get a stimulant ready.”

  Ignoring Sheradon’s fumblings in her medical bag, Dorinda shook her friend’s shoulders once more. “Please, Sarius. You’ve got to wake up.” Dorinda raised her hand again and slapped her lover’s face hard across the cheek. It did nothing but cause his creased visage to loll to one side. Inhaling deeply against the impending sting, Dorinda raised her other hand and smacked it solidly against the Vesar’s bruised, left cheek. “I told him, Brune,” she hollered. “The ambassador knows about us. Now wake up and yell at me.”

  Sheradon was beside her, pressing a dermic gun to the Vesar’s tensed and trembling neck. “He needs a stronger stimulant, but I dare not give him one.”

  “I’ve got one,” Dorinda asserted through clenched teeth. With one hand bracing the Vesar against the bed, Dorinda slammed her fist into the soft spot just above his protected heart.

  Vesarius flinched violently, instinctively grabbing for his bared shoulder. He coughed. Then his eyes flung open. Coughing again, the Vesar gulped a lungful of air. Dorinda dodged away as he rolled to swing his boots to the floor. She sat beside him instantly and squeezed his forearm in relief.

  Still clutching his heart, shoulders curled, Vesarius croaked, “Why did you … strike me?”

  “Because you wouldn’t wake up,” Dorinda explained. “Tundra tried to wake you. He even ran to get Lonnie.”

  Vesarius noticed the doctor hovering beyond Dorinda’s impassioned gaze. “Sule. Can a warrior not get some rest in private?” He rubbed at his shoulder, mouth pouting.

  “Not like that, you don’t,” Sheradon countered. The doctor stepped up to cross her arms at him, dermic gun still perched in her fingers. “You were in deep REM sleep. So deep that external stimulus
wasn’t enough to wake you.”

  “That’s not all, Sarius,” Dorinda added. “You were shaking, having a nightmare. Do you remember any of it?”

  “I was having a pleasant dream,” Vesarius argued lowering his hand from his reddened shoulder and avoiding both women’s eyes. “I was with my brothers, communing with the queen.”

  “Brothers? Queen? Sarius, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Oh, my God. Yes he is, Dori,” warned Yolonda. “You were in a dark tunnel? A hive?”

  “Orthops?” Dorinda’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What did they do to you?”

  In defense, Vesarius shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. I told you. I tried to escape, and I fell down the mountain.”

  “Tell me how you escaped, Sarius,” Dorinda urged squeezing his knee for emphasis. “I want details.”

  “It ... it was dark. I sneaked past my three guards. I climbed above them, dislodged a boulder. I tripped on some rocks.”

  “Is that all you can remember?” Dorinda insisted when the Vesar fell silent.

  “What about after that?” asked Sheradon.

  “I told you, Doctor. My brain has been fuzzy lately. When I fell, I must have hit my head.”

  “Where?” Dorinda demanded.

  “Gluctg said -”

  “Not Gluctg. I want to know what you remember.”

  Sighing, Vesarius could only grimace in frustration. “I cannot remember.”

  Dr. Sheradon shook her head. With a slap to her thigh she declared, “This is too weird. Commander, you’re coming with me. We’re running a complete scan of your cerebral cortex. If they’ve messed with your brain -”

  “Operated on him?” Dorinda interrupted in horror. Her heart fluttered several beats.

  “Perhaps not,” Sheradon countered. “There would be signs of an incision. I think they just tried to influence him. If so, it’ll show up on a brain scan. Normal wave patterns interrupted by glitches.”

  “How do we cure it?” Dorinda asked.

  “We don’t,” Sheradon replied with a brow jerk. “It’s something that’ll wear off once he’s been exposed again to normal activities.”

  “Brainwashing,” Dorinda murmured, heart pounding deeper.

  “I ... I am conflicted,” Vesarius said softly shaking his hanging head. The man’s dark hands kneaded the bed’s edge. “I cannot think straight. It is as if I have thorns in my skull.”

  Leaning into him, Dorinda raised his chin in her hand. “It’s all right, Sarius. You’ve just had your memory jumbled. We’ll fix everything.”

  “I expect so,” he answered with a taut frown. “I have a job to do.”

  “Speaking of job, do you think you can stay awake?” Sheradon asked. “I can’t risk you falling into REM sleep again, not until I’m sure what caused this.”

  “I will stay awake,” Vesarius assured with a curt nod. “Right now I am as alarmed as you. If those bugs jehŕtogked with my brain, I will have their steamed claws on a platter.”

  “Come on, Sarius. We’ll get this worked out,” Dorinda assured as much for her own fears. Together they stood. Vesarius grabbed his tunic from the couch then followed her, Tundra and Sheradon out of his cabin. Dorinda monitored her Vesar mate’s progress all the way to the medical center noticing how he walked less stiffly. Yet his head was still bowed, his crows’ feet taut as if in pain. Though Sheradon’s nutrient shot had done some good, Vesarius needed more rest. Inwardly, Dorinda prayed there’d be no permanent damage.

  When the group veered into the center, Sheradon waved the Vesar to a diagnostic platform. “On your back, Commander.” She next lowered his bed to accommodate the table-like device that would scan his skull. “Dori, your job is to keep him awake. This’ll take a few minutes, and he has to remain still.”

  Nodding, Dorinda pulled a chair up and sat beside her supine friend. As Tundra settled nearby she smiled. After a moment, Dorinda admitted, “Funny how you can’t think of anything to say when you’re supposed to talk.” Vesarius reached over to squeeze her hand. She saw in his raven eyes a deep concern, perhaps even fear. “Your head aches, doesn’t it? I don’t like to see you in pain.”

  “It is nothing compared to brainwashing,” Vesarius argued. “They had the time to reprogram me, Dorinda. Even if just a portion. Long enough to instruct me to act. Perhaps do something I would regret.”

  “Like kill Coty?” Dorinda winced when Vesarius’ grip constricted about her palm. She witnessed his doubt intensified and tugged back her tender hand. “You couldn’t do it, Sarius. No more than you could kill me.”

  “I cannot be certain of that.”

  “I can,” Sheradon informed rolling the cerebral scanner to the bed. “But you’ve got to lay still.” She swung the device out over the Vesar’s head, switched it on then lowered it to cover his simmering scowl. “Now keep quiet ... and stay awake. The scan’ll be done in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Vesarius answered from under the machine. His face was fully obscured by the rectangular device with its glowing lights and viewscreen, yet the man’s sobriety was evident.

  “Keep talking to him, Dori.” Yolonda leaned to whisper in her ear, “And hold his hand. I won’t tell.” With a reassuring pat to Dorinda’s arm, Sheradon strode to her office.

  Sighing, Dorinda returned her gaze to her friend. She reached to squeeze his mahogany digits. “Well, I suppose staying still means you can’t talk, so I guess I’ll do it for you.” Swallowing, Dorinda knew what she should be telling the Vesar, but she couldn’t guarantee the scan results if she did. Instead Dorinda made up small talk. “You squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no. That way I can still get my answers, and you don’t have to move. OK?”

  Vesarius squeezed her hand once.

  “Good.” Then Dorinda frowned. “I’m worried, Sarius. What if the rebels wanted you to assassinate the high chancellor or perhaps even Ambassador Tolianksalya? I know you wouldn’t miss him, but -”

  Vesarius squeezed her hand twice.

  “But he’s important to the mission. Eventually he’ll be responsible for the terms of the treaty. Right now you’re the one in the spotlight, but that’ll change.” Dorinda thought for a moment then considered something that had been bothering her. “Do you think the Orthops’ll insist that you stay behind with the ambassador?”

  Vesarius squeezed her hand once.

  “Can’t you graciously refuse them?”

  He squeezed her hand twice.

  “Then I want to stay with you.”

  Vesarius pressed Dorinda’s palm twice.

  “I know it’s dangerous,” Dorinda argued. “Especially since the rebels have already tried something with you. But I have to stay with you. I can’t even contemplate leaving you behind.”

  Again a double squeeze from the Vesar’s hand, tighter this time. Adamant.

  “Sarius, you need me.”

  The Vesar gave her a quick, positive answer.

  “Well, then you’ll just have to find a way to stay aboard the Pompeii.”

  This time there was firm affirmation in his handhold.

  Smiling in relief, Dorinda offered, “You can tell them you’re allergic to Orthop singing. Tell them you’ve come down with a case of Vesar sandephobia, highly contagious. Or you can simply admit that you wouldn’t risk another’s life in staying, because if you do, so do I.”

  Vesarius squeezed her hand twice, lightly.

  “I know I’m stubborn, but you make me so,” Dorinda admitted sighing and plopping her chin down on her other palm. Slumping forward she rested that arm on her knee. “It’s impossible to live with you sometimes,” she mumbled over her curled fingers. “You’re so unyielding. Being stubborn’s the only way to get my point across to that stone skull of yours.” Then Dorinda smirked and sat up straight. “I guess I can voice my opinion now. You can’t protest, and you can’t stomp off.”

  Vesarius didn’t offer resistance, so Dorinda grinned widely and announced, “
Vesarius, I want to wear the bonding bracelet. And I’m going to order you another flute. You need a proper bonding gift. Plus I want to hear you play it. If anyone dares to gawk at us, all the better. After all, I’ve got the best man on the ship. Don’t you agree?”

  There was no response from her friend. Her smile falling, Dorinda squeezed his hand. “Sarius?” In response she felt his arm begin to tremble. “Damn,” she cursed jumping to her feet. “Lonnie!” Beside her Tundra stood and barked his concern. “It’s happening again.” The Alaskan malamute paced in a tight, frustrated circle.

  Yolonda Sheradon bolted into the room and bent to check the Vesar’s pulse. “He’s asleep.”

  “I know that. And he’s dreaming again.”

  “This is not normal. What the hell did they do to him?” Yolonda threw up her hands. “Wake him, Dori, like you did before. This time keep him moving. I’ll see if there’s anything useful on this machine.” Shutting off the scanner, Sheradon rolled it from the room.

  “Sarius, wake up,” Dorinda instructed watching the Vesar’s facial muscles twitch below hooded brows. No response. “I don’t want to hit you again,” she warned and shook his shoulders. “Come on.” She glanced at the pacing malamute. “Tundra, help me. Call him.” Dorinda’s eyes returned to her Vesar friend. “Sarius, fight it! You’re having a nightmare.” With a resigned sigh, Dorinda braced the man’s naked torso, made a fist, and jammed the warrior in the heart once more.

  Vesarius bounced from the impact, but he did not awaken. “No,” Dorinda whined. Silently she prayed it would work a second time. Tundra moaned his own worry. Raising her fist, Dorinda aimed first, then jackhammered his body with all her might. “Sarius!” Her fingers were jarred numb, but still the man did not respond. Dorinda shook her lover again. “Come on, Sarius. Open your eyes.” She sucked in a desperate sob. “Tell me you love me.”

  Vesarius winced then groaned, “I do.” He coughed and clutched his heart. “I do love you.” He next rolled to sit up.

  With a relieved sob, Dorinda tilted to hug him urgently. “Don’t you do that again,” she croaked. “Don’t you scare me like that.” As Tundra leaped onto the bed beside him, Vesarius feebly raised his free hand to stroke Dorinda’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I hated doing that.”