Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  “It was necessary.” Frozen in their embrace, Vesarius bent his chin to kiss her neck. “I forgive you.”

  “Oh, Vesarius,” Dorinda countered pulling away from him to shake her head. “You won’t forgive me for what else I’ve done. He knows, Sarius. About us. When the ambassador insisted we leave orbit, leave you to be eaten alive? I blurted it out right in front of him. Told him to go to Huaj´im and everything.” Dorinda’s mouth dropped at her lover’s reaction to the dreaded news. Vesarius was chuckling. “You’re not angry with me?”

  “He would have found out eventually,” Vesarius replied absently stroking his Kin. “Though I would have relished seeing his face when you cursed him to Huaj´im.”

  “But Vesarius, he’ll deny Vwafar´ee now. I’ve even talked to him since, tried to change his mind. He’d rather see you dead than give you a chance to redeem yourself. He’s as stubborn in his hate of you as I’m in love.”

  Slumping slightly, Vesarius shrugged and dropped his hand from his hot shoulder. “As long as we are together, it no longer matters.”

  “But Vesar bonding. You said … we’d be connected. With my PSY rating we’d be ... inseparable.”

  With a twitch of a smile, Vesarius replied, “I thought we were that already.”

  Beaming in sudden agreement, Dorinda hugged him again fiercely and with renewed tears. Then she risked his reprimand by laying her hand against his bare crest. She could feel the pulsing hot blood beneath the sensitive ridges, sensed his stalled breath and racing heart. A Vesar kiss was indeed special, shared only among mates and cherished mothers.

  Abruptly though he swatted her hand away and blushed a deep mahogany. The mood was instantly dispelled. Dorinda followed his dark gaze.

  “Sorry,” Yolonda blurted from the doorway, a storage crystal in hand. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You might want to see this, Commander.” Striding fully into the room, Dr. Sheradon handed the crystal ring to the Vesar. “It’s your electroencephalogram. Your brainwaves have been altered, all right. I’m trying to diagnose the cause, but as yet, I’m stumped.”

  “Altered?” Vesarius’ eyes narrowed, his face quickly paling to normal. “For what purpose? Did they plan to experiment or program?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sheradon scowled then added with conviction, “Coty’ll need to be told. As a precaution, he’ll probably relieve you of duty, stall the peace talks.”

  “Since the rebels are mucking up the works,” Dorinda asserted, “they’re stalled anyway.” She understood that much. “They’re not trustworthy.”

  “Yes,” Vesarius agreed. “And if it prevents me from committing sabotage, I will agree to Coty’s counsel.” Dorinda watched him swallow. What had the Orthops intended?

  “The ambassador should be told, too,” Dorinda suggested turning to leave.

  “No.” Vesarius grabbed at her retreating arm. “He cannot be told of this … side effect … until all is understood.”

  “Why not?” Then Dorinda frowned. “Vesar pride again?”

  “No.” Vesarius blinked his discomfort, brows wrinkling. “Tankawankanyi pride,” he admitted with a slight blush. “We do not need to stoke the fire, Dorinda. Tell Tolianksalya only that I have been mistreated, and that the rebels are not honorable.”

  “All right, Sarius.” Dorinda then turned to Sheradon. “I’ll be back in a little while. You’ll keep him awake?”

  Nodding, Yolonda promised, “If I have to stick pins in his side.”

  Grinning at the image, Dorinda leaned over to kiss Vesarius’ cheek. “No snoozing, Mr. Warrior.” When his chin consented, Dorinda spun toward the door with full intentions of warning the ambassador of the rebels’ treachery. Dorinda hoped the Vesar dignitary believed her. The negotiations had just taken yet another twist.

  Chapter 12: Deprivation

  Vesarius watched Dorinda go, then felt the uncomfortable twinge of addressing the critical stare of Dr. Sheradon. “You saw nothing, Yolonda,” he warned, eyes still locked on the med center exit. Through his peripheral vision, Vesarius witnessed Yolonda plop her hands on her wide hips, an indication of disagreement.

  “I saw everything,” she countered sarcastically. “And I already know about it, so don’t be embarrassed.”

  Locking skeptical orbs on her, Vesarius tilted his head. “You know what?”

  “About your pledge, of course. Who do you think she comes to when you do your prideful warrior act on her? Where does she go when you won’t share ‘private matters’?”

  “I thought Coty,” he reasoned stretching past Tundra for his tunic. He tossed the garment onto his shoulders.

  “Yes, and me.” Sheradon huffed. “This is a small ship, Sarius. We’re more a large family than an Alliance fleet vessel. There’re always friends to consult when we’re in need. Dorinda turns to Bear when she needs to understand you. She turns to me when she needs to understand herself.” When Vesarius frowned and sucked air, ready to spout his dissent, Yolonda beat him to it. “You two have a good thing. Don’t worry about what strangers think or say. As long as you have the blessing of your family, nothing else matters.”

  Vesarius harrumphed in irony. “My family desires me dead.”

  “Whoever asked an uncle for his blessing to marry?” Sheradon disputed.

  “If he is my only living relation, and he holds my soul in judgment.”

  “Whoever said another man could possess your soul, Sarius?” Sheradon argued. “It’s yours. And Brahmanii Sule’s. And, if anything, your life’s been earning you a place in the stars ever since Coty brought you back to them.”

  “My people think differently, Doctor. A Vesar Grilcmzáe knows only Huaj´im at death.”

  “Then perhaps you better live, Vesarius. Live the best way you can. And with Dorinda.” Then Sheradon shrugged, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll Christianize you. Then you can go to human heaven.”

  “Are we going to review this storage disc, Doctor?” Vesarius interrupted. With a twisted frown, he waggled the crystal disc in his fingers.

  “Sure.” Sheradon snapped upright. “Follow me.”

  Hopping from the bed, Vesarius strode after the doctor, Tundra in tow. Slipping the storage ring between his lips, Vesarius tightened the side lacings to his tunic as he went. When he entered her office with its data terminal, Sheradon held out her hand.

  “Let me have it.” She took the disc back from the Vesar and slid it into the computer read-only slot. Sheradon then spun the thirty-two centimeter screen around for the commander to view as well. Together they watched two identical brainwave scans. “The top EEG is your record scan, taken during your last physical, two months ago. I always compare annual results. This one’s not appreciably different from your previous scan a year ago.”

  “But it is different,” Vesarius stressed.

  “Of course. Our brains are always in flux. New knowledge, new traumas. A new love life,” Yolonda quipped with a crooked smile.

  “You mock me,” Vesarius retorted. His face flushed hot.

  “No, Sarius. I envy you. A doctor’s life can be lonely too. I’m happy you found an end to yours.” After a moment of silence, their eyes drifted back to the screen, and Sheradon continued her explanation. “Here.” She pointed to the peaks and valleys of the fluctuating waves at the top of the screen. “This is your normal brainwave pattern during a conscious state.”

  “I see no pattern. It is erratic.”

  “Perhaps you were erratic at the time.” Again that cocked grin. “You’ll see a pattern in a moment. Here.” She poked a forefinger at the bottom half of the screen. “This is your conscious state now.”

  Vesarius shook his head. “They are the same,” he argued.

  “Wait. Now this is REM sleep two months ago. Normal for you. And -”

  “What is that?” Vesarius exclaimed seeing the bottom pattern switch to a wild flow of peaks and valleys.

  “Now that’s erratic,” Sheradon proclaimed. “But only
in appearance. I was able to record this when you’d drifted off on Dori. Look carefully at the sub-pattern.”

  “Sub-pattern?” Squinting, Vesarius leaned closer toward the screen.

  “Here,” Yolonda explained pointing to a faint echo of a reading. “This is steady. That’s more like what a dream looks like in brainwaves.”

  “Then what is this?” Vesarius asked waving a digit at the wildly fluctuating, bolder reading on the lower half of the screen.

  Shrugging, Sheradon could only say, “As far as I can tell, it’s you having a short-circuited nightmare. What that sub-pattern is, I don’t know.”

  “What if they are switched?” Vesarius asked raising his brow at her.

  “Switched? What’s switched with what, Sarius? The top reading is from two months ago. I know that for a fact.”

  “What if the sub-pattern is the dream wave, and the wild pattern is my subconscious fighting it?”

  “You mean the fainter pattern is the culprit, and the wild brain activity is your reaction. Your subconscious?” Sheradon’s eyes swelled. “You may be right. That’s why you seem outwardly to be having a nightmare, but you remember only a pleasant dream. You’re resisting the program.”

  “Perhaps their attempt has failed. I have not become one of them. My only side effect is a persistent headache.”

  Sheradon considered his swollen jaw. “You still have it?”

  With a nod, Vesarius conceded, “Do not tell Dorinda. She would only worry.”

  “She’d be right to,” Sheradon countered. Then the doctor sighed decidedly. “Look. I can administer an analgesic for your discomfort. But how long do you think you can hold out against sleep? You’ve already been deprived of it for two days, and your body needs to heal from your injuries.”

  Vesarius’ shoulders slumped at the inevitable. “I must endure until you feel it is safe, Doctor. You will have to give me a stimulant. When I can stay awake no longer, lock me in the brig.”

  “When you’re asleep we can’t wake you, Sarius. That’s the problem. You drop immediately into REM sleep, as if on command. That’s when you start to shake.”

  “Then let me shake. I will do no harm.”

  “You’ll hurt yourself if you slip into accelerated shock.”

  “Then monitor me. Have Dorinda ready with a sedative.”

  “That may weaken your fight against the rebel programming,” Sheradon concluded. “No, Sarius. All we need is time. If we can keep you up and moving for a few days, it’ll provide time for your brainwaves to return to normal. This echo of a pattern will fade completely for lack of use.”

  “How will you keep me awake?”

  Now Yolonda Sheradon beamed and kneaded her hands. “Oh, we have our ways. The first of which is getting you some brain food, but only enough for a recharge. Too much’ll make you drowsy.”

  “You do not intend to feed me strange human foods, do you?” Vesarius asked with a raised brow. “Cooked calves brains?” The Pompeii’s galley was filled with such fare.

  “Old joke, Sarius. I know Dori’s got you trying new things. What kinds of fish do you like? Dorinda said you’ve cooked her lake trout before.”

  Vesarius’ chin jerked at the revelation. “Sule, she has told you everything.”

  With a smirk, Yolonda quipped, “Only snatches, Iron Man. Come on. We’ll get you to the galley. Dori’ll be my assistant. We’ll trade off duty.” Then with a huff, she added, “Now, where did I put those pins?”

  Frowning, Vesarius dismissed the doctor’s attempt at humor. “I will wait for Dorinda. It is time for mid-meal, is it not?”

  Shrugging, Yolonda admitted, “It’s all right. I know you’d prefer her company over mine.” She waved him toward the office door. “You two go eat, and I’ll explain this situation to Coty. You’ll be under my command for the next four days.”

  Stalling in his exit, Vesarius sneered. “I must remain without sleep for four days?”

  The doctor nodded her sympathetic consent. “Well, we’ll let you sleep on the fourth day. But we’ll have to monitor you. If the scan turns up normal, I’ll let you grow a beard and call you Rip. Deal?”

  “Vesar grow no facial hair,” Vesarius countered, though he understood her analogy. “I agree to your wisdom, Doctor. May I be excused?”

  “Yes,” Sheradon confirmed, “but stay in public view. If you do anything unusual, I want witnesses. Dorinda and I are stuck like glue to you, got it?”

  “Like glomgigt beetles. Yes, Doctor.” Vesarius groaned at the prospect of Sheradon’s shadow. He turned to leave for the galley, Tundra in tow. There the Vesar would perhaps find some privacy and a good meal with which to fuel his battle against the dreaded cockroaches’ programming.

  * * *

  The next few days were filled with activity. They had to be. Many times Vesarius needed physical prodding to stay conscious. Living off coffee and the occasional sweet roll or energy bar, the Vesar strained to remain busy.

  Dorinda had him read aloud to her, all the while formulating questions to test his comprehension. Yolonda made him decipher puzzles and strategy games on the computer. By the fifth day without sleep, Vesarius could handle no more than a slumped stance in a chair, mumbling through Frost or tapping the keyboard with a hesitant forefinger.

  “Sarius!” Sheradon snapped.

  “Yes,” he uttered jolting upright at the computer. “I did not close my eyes.”

  “Oh, yes you did,” Yolonda accused with a waggling finger. “And your answers are getting sloppy.” She scrutinized the computer monitor. “Since when do you spell warrior with two ‘a’s and only one ‘r’?”

  “My hand is tired,” the Vesar retorted. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face with an open palm.

  “So’s the rest of you,” the doctor chided. “Come on. Leave the games for now. Dori’ll be here soon, and you can go get something to eat. She’s taking you for a walk isn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Vesarius murmured. Shutting off the computer program, he rose from his chair. “Then a Tai Chi session.”

  “Well, don’t wear yourself too much. Strenuous exercise’ll only contribute to your condition.”

  “You mean my exhaustion?” Vesarius yawned loudly, stretching his spine.

  “Oh, now you’re almost done. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll make you some hot cocoa, tuck you in, and Dori’ll read you a bedtime story.”

  “Auburnlocks and the Three Vesar,” he mumbled, again rubbing at his tired eyes.

  “Auburn?” Sheradon ‘tsked’ at him. “Your cerebral functions are slipping.”

  “No. It is my humor that is slipping, Doctor. My cerebral cortex is hanging on.”

  “That’s encouraging news,” Dorinda chimed in, striding into the medical lab. “How’s he doing, Lonnie?”

  “Sleep deprivation’s kicking in, I’m afraid. Big time. His perceptual, oral, and cognitive skills are becoming hesitant.”

  “Sloppy,” Vesarius retorted flatly.

  Dorinda smiled and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “Hungry?”

  “Of course. Dr. Slavedriver has had me doing these tests since oh-three hundred. Breakfast sounds enticing after alphabet soup.”

  “Alphabet soup?” Dorinda asked with a creased brow.

  “Spelling test,” Sheradon explained.

  “Oh. I always hated those.”

  “I as well,” Vesarius agreed. “May we go to the arboretum first? I must walk out my stiffness from sitting.”

  “Whatever you want, Sarius,” Dorinda answered taking his hand.

  “Then what of a warm bed?”

  Smirking at him, Dorinda countered, “Almost whatever.” Then she waved at the doctor. “I’ll have him back to you in five hours, Lonnie.”

  Nodding, Sheradon yawned. “Good. Just enough time to snatch a nap and a meal myself.”

  “Hmm, that sounds like a proper strategy,” Vesarius quipped pivoting to follow the doctor. “I will join you.”

  “Over my dead body, Mister
,” Sheradon denied.

  Vesarius jerked his shoulders. “Acceptable.”

  “Come on, Sarius,” Dorinda urged pulling him away. “Let’s give your legs some exercise instead of your mouth.”

  “What is wrong with my mouth? Perhaps it is lonesome.”

  Leading him to the door, Dorinda glanced back over her trailing shoulder and smiled. “In the arboretum, we could find a dark corner. I’ll fix that problem.”

  “We cannot.” He dropped his hand from hers as they stepped into the corridor.

  “Not proper, right?” Dorinda retorted half frowning. “Sarius, for goodness sakes. Tolianksalya knows. What does it matter if others do?”

  “There will be talk.”

  “So?”

  “Dorinda, must we discuss this again?”

  “Well, you brought it up. What else did you mean?”

  Vesarius lowered his eyes and sighed. “Forgive me. I am tired, and you look ... almost edible to me after hours staring at a screen.”

  Ducking her gaze at him, Dorinda caught his longing. “Would you like a more private spot to discuss this?”

  Harrumphing in ironic humor, the Vesar raised his chin and smiled crookedly. “Where? The engine room?”

  “How about a storage closet?” Dorinda chuckled. “That was always a popular place in my time. I know a few of the access codes on deck five. Right down the corridor from ...” Voice drifting off, Dorinda blushed suddenly and changed the subject. “Let’s stretch those legs, shall we?”

  “The observation lounge,” Vesarius surmised. “And the ambassador.” Then he blinked and cursed his slug brain. “You. Our tracking exercise. You were hiding in a closet when I found Jonas making a false trail with your shoes. Tundra did not even smell you?”

  Dorinda was smiling beside him, head bowed, shoulders curled. “I cried wolf one too many times, and he ignored me. Rather sneaky,” she conceded raising twinkling eyes. “It worked though.”