Warrior Spirit

by Laura Kaighn

  “If you would be so kind, Vesarius,” Coty addressed the magistrate and presented the document. “It’s written in Gremsctok, a language I can’t pronounce properly, let alone read and understand.”

  To Coty’s embarrassing blush, the elder Vesar harrumphed in caustic humor and took the paper. As the captain settled into a chair beside Dorinda, Judge Daratowke´tyo unsealed the parchment’s taped edge and unfolded it crisply to read. After a moment of scrutiny, the man’s dark brows jumped, and he sat back in his chair. “This is a signed deed, Capt. Coty. A deed of land ownership.”

  “A deed?” Michael Coty lurched back to his feet to lean at the desk. “For what land?”

  After another moment’s inspection, the Vesar raised his eyes from the paper. “Rhaza homestead.”

  Dorinda’s heart was drumming in her ears; had she heard the Vesar elder correctly? “The Tankawankanyi estate?”

  “Indeed,” Judge Daratowke´tyo rumbled. Leaning forward he shook the document in emphasis. “Evidently, the ambassador must have intended to sign it over to the commander.”

  Dorinda bolted straight in her chair. “Can he do that?” Her mind was racing, pulse pumping.

  “As Power of Attorney over the estate, the ambassador can grant its ownership to whom he chooses, but,” the Vesar elder countered with a tilting forefinger, “that person need be a citizen of Vesar and of sufficient status to maintain the estate.”

  “But ...” Dorinda’s heart collapsed in her chest; her spine slumped. “The commander isn’t considered a citizen. He’s an outcast ... he can’t even live on a Vesar world.”

  “Then I am unaware of the ambassador’s intention,” Judge Daratowke´tyo murmured hunching his ridged shoulders. The parchment fell slack to the desktop.

  A second later, Dorinda knew. A slow spreading smile creased her eyes and brow. “He’s granted us Vwafar´ee. It’s the only way.”

  “Yes, Dori,” Coty agreed enthusiastically. Then Dorinda watched his smile fade. “That is ... if he’s judged innocent of the ambassador’s murder.”

  “Damn,” Dorinda sighed, slouching further into her chair.

  “Your Honors,” Coty entreated. “We must demonstrate the controller chip’s power. Vesarius’ guilt hinges on the device’s effectiveness. Its influence on the brain and will of its victim. The chip’s full capability must be determined.”

  “What you are suggesting,” the second Vesar judge asserted leaning forward to rest his elbows atop the long desk, “is that we experiment with this device, on the commander himself. Determine the risk to the Alliance populace.”

  “No. Yes, Vesarius,” Coty stumbled. “Not on the commander. But, yes. If this device is that effective, its technology would make a grave weapon. In the wrong hands, such as the Orthop rebels, a mind control device would be an Alliance calamity.”

  With a solemn nod and slap to the desktop, the second Vesar rose. “Then it will be done. We must find a fault in this technology ... to protect us all. The commander will be re-implanted and a proper test devised.”

  “Not Vesarius!” Dorinda blurted launching herself from her chair. She stamped forward to press her palms into the desk. “You can’t.”

  One steely brow rose in deadly earnest. “If the commander is to be exonerated of murder,” the judge growled, “he alone will be the subject of the experiment. We will prove the efficacy of this mind controller chip.” The Vesar’s fiery coal gaze shifted to the reposed Orthop. “You will see to it?”

  The high chancellor’s eyestalks bowed slightly from his place by the window. “You ask me to act as the rebels have,” his necklace translator asserted. “To influence the storyteller’s mind ... force my will upon his.”

  “Yes, we are,” Daratowke´tyo cut in. “The alternative is a guilty verdict, followed by a public execution.” The Orthop’s foreclaws drooped with obvious reluctance.

  “We agree,” Coty hastily announced and clutched Dorinda’s arm. “We ask only that you keep us informed. Jade and I will want to be present during the ... experiment.”

  “Michael. No. We have to think this -”

  “Come on, Dori,” Coty snapped tugging her toward the door.

  “No.” Dorinda jerked free of his grasp. “I won’t allow -”

  “We have no choice,” Coty growled between clenched teeth. Then his eyes shifted to the two Vesar arbiters. “Might we be allowed to visit the prisoner? I’m certain the commander will agree also.”

  “The commander has no choice,” the second judge grumbled. After a steaming, silent moment … “Your request is granted. He is sufficiently guarded.”

  With a stiff salute Coty spouted, “Vesariuses,” and guided Dorinda forcibly from the office.

  “But, Michael,” she protested as they lurched out into the hallway. “They’ll make him do things, to prove the power of that device. They may even command him to kill one of us ... just to test the damned thing’s success. Either way, Vesarius loses!”

  “No, Dori,” Michael Coty insisted heading for the municipal cells. “Vesarius wouldn’t kill either of us.” Coty paused as a darkness shadowed his jasper eyes. “He’d kill himself first.”

  “So he fights the programming, and he’s found guilty. Plus he’s dead. See, Michael? It’s a lose-lose situation,” Dorinda stammered. “And you agreed to it!”

  Coty had slowed his pace toward the jail facilities. Now he stopped dead in his tracks. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take, Dori. A risk Vesarius will decide to take.”

  “He can’t decline, Michael. They’ll strap him down ... knock him out ... and plant that thing in his brain.”

  Coty dropped his guiding hand from her tense arm. “You’re right. Absolutely,” he agreed gravely. “But it’s the only way. All we can do is warn him so he can be prepared. If we’re there when they conduct the experiment, then maybe we can stop Vesarius from hurting himself or us.”

  “If the judges allow it,” Dorinda countered hotly. “They don’t care about us or Vesarius. They’re looking at the big picture, the threat of a mind control device as deadly as another Arch.” Now her voice was trembling as every muscle in her body quavered with trepidation. “To the galaxy, we don’t even matter.”

  Coty steadied her, turning determined eyes upon her defeat. Dorinda saw the anguish behind that impassioned stare. “We matter to each other, Dori. You and Vesarius ... The Pompeii and her crew. We must keep that perspective even though we know they’re right. Without family, the galaxy’s just a swirling pool of stars and empty planets.” Coty squeezed her arms in his conviction. “Without you, my life would be just as desolate.”

  Heart somersaulting, Dorinda leaned in to hug her captain and friend. “I’m just scared, Michael. I feel so tiny and insignificant.”

  Coty pushed her away, a crooked grin perched on his darker lips. “Dorinda, you’re anything but insignificant. Vesarius’d be the first one to defend you on that.”

  “I want to see him,” she mumbled. Her energy was draining through her feet. Dorinda wasn’t sure how much longer she could last before total emotional collapse.

  “All right,” her captain agreed. After asking pausing for directions at the attendant’s desk, Coty and Dorinda found the set of temporary holding cells and the one containing their Vesar friend.

  “So. How’re they treating you, Brother?” Coty asked upon entering the windowless cubicle. From outside the door, the security guard scowled. Dorinda ignored the man’s furrowed brow in lieu of her husband’s broad smile.

  Vesarius rose from his seat on the bunk and clamped his captain’s wrist in a brotherly hand clasp. “The food does not compare to Julian’s, but I am not mistreated.” He turned obsidian eyes to his bride. “This is better than the jail cell in Old Forge.”

  Dorinda half smiled remembering the Vesar’s brief internment and his smoky escape with the help of Tundra and a sulfur-packed explosive arrowhead. “We need to talk, Sarius,” she affirmed sadly. “And you won’t like what we have to say.”
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  Once settled again on the bunk, Vesarius crossed his arms and listened stoically of the magistrates’ proposal to test the device. Only once Coty and Dorinda were through did he offer his solemn view. “It is the only way, Dorinda.” He looked to his captain and nodded. “I agree, as long as they do not place you two in any danger.” With a cocked smirk he added, “I would not want them to test my Vesar will on such scrawny, ill-equipped humans.”

  Dorinda smiled despite her worry. “Who you calling scrawny?”

  Coty was not so amused. “Will they put you in extreme jeopardy, Sarius? From my understanding of Vesar customs, your tournaments were deadly affairs.”

  Nodding curtly, Vesarius rolled his buttocks forward atop the bunk, elbows to his knees. “It would be most practical to pit me against another Vesar, or perhaps a tarlocat, or even a robotic assassin.”

  “An assassin? No, Sarius,” Dorinda pleaded pacing a few steps in her anxiety. “I won’t let them. Michael, we can’t agree to this.”

  “Dorinda,” Vesarius rumbled rising from his bunk and grasping her shoulders. “What are the alternatives?” He did not wait for her answer. “If I am to be proven innocent, then the extreme effectiveness of this device must be tested. This is reasonable.”

  “Not to me. And I don’t have to like it.” She pouted in her defiance. Vesarius pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “Neither do I, Green Eyes,” he mumbled into her hair as Dorinda hugged him fiercely. She was unaware that from above her buried face, Vesarius exchanged a serious stare with his captain and friend. “You will watch over her, Bear?”

  Nodding once Coty assured, “With my own life.”

  Dorinda pushed herself away from her husband. “Can I stay with you? Until the test?”

  “If my people will allow it. Do not be disappointed if they insist I have no further visitations after this. I am on trial not only for murder, but for the murder of a Vesar dignitary and blood kin. This is a most serious crime.”

  Dorinda’s knees wobbled beneath her. “Why does this keep happening to you, Sarius?”

  Her husband only shrugged. “It comes with the nature of my life-choices, Dorinda. As Grilcmzáe I am not trusted, nor accepted. I must prove myself worthy in the most challenging of trials. To regain acceptance, I can do no less.”

  Raising her own grief-stricken gaze to her taller Vesar mate, Dorinda firmed her chin and trembling lips. “Honors to you, my husband.” She next laid her flattened hand upon his coverall-enshrouded chest. “I love you.”

  Vesarius’ hard warrior features softened as he returned the gesture then bent to kiss her smooth warm mouth. A tear sidled along Dorinda’s angular nose, and Vesarius raised his mahogany forefinger to gently brush the crystal aside. “I will ask for you before the trial. Perhaps we will be allowed to embrace once more.”

  “I hope so,” Dorinda stammered her voice finally cracking. Turning away from her husband, Dorinda accepted Coty’s comforting arm but did not lean in to her captain’s embrace. Before all of Vesar, she must remain strong. They were both on trial here. If Vesar and Earth were to accept their differences in culture and creed, then that trust must start here. Now. They would set the best example, Dorinda promised inwardly. She marched from the cell, straight-backed and square-chinned.

  * * *

  The anesthetized patient, lying face down on the diagnostic table, was unaware as the Vesar physician finished resealing the small incision along his nape. “This nodule has been preprogrammed? No further instructions are needed?” The doctor’s deep voice betrayed his utter skepticism.

  “Our captured rebel healer assured me,” the Orthop high chancellor clicked, “that the instating of information is completed prior to its insertion within the recipient.” The translator necklace about the creature’s throat once again voiced the Orthop’s explanation. “The Vesar judiciary has done so.” The creature’s eyestalks and serrated foreclaws hunched. “I am familiar only with its results. It is a most capable device.”

  “Many Vesar government and military officials will be present for this demonstration, Orthop. If the device is infallible, your people will be under certain threat from mine.”

  “Then, in the name of peace, let us hope the chip is flawed.”

  With a raised brow, the physician rumbled, “If found flawed, the commander here will be deemed guilty of murder.”

  “Storyteller is innocent,” the high chancellor defended. “His only crime is inherent. He wishes freedom to choose his destiny.”

  “Orthop,” the physician grumbled as if to a disrespectful child. “A Vesar’s destiny is prewritten by laws and customs. There is no free choice, only duty and honor.”

  “Then I pray your people see the wisdom in this demonstration,” the high chancellor’s translator provided flatly. “The storyteller’s life and honor are both on trial today. Let his strength guide your people to enlightenment.”

  With a smoldering glare, Dr. Kahnodalaya snapped a cartridge into his dermic gun and pressed it quickly against his patient’s neck. Vesarius stirred, then blinked awake and moved to sit up as his ever-present sentries strode forward, plasma pistols leveled. At the Vesar prisoner’s questioning glance, Dr. Kahnodalaya nodded. “It is done.”

  Vesarius swallowed grimly and gently fingered the tender spot at his hairline where the thumbnail-sized device had been implanted. Then, hopping down from the diagnostic platform, he allowed his guards to escort him from the infirmary. Vesarius would now be allowed to sleep, in order for the programming to take hold of his subconscious. After that, the exiled warrior would be led into the coliseum for the demonstration.

  Dorinda met her husband at the door to his now familiar, stark jail cell. As she followed him in, Vesarius noticed her face was drawn, pale save for the darkened and sagging crescents beneath her clouded jade eyes. “You have not slept well, Green Eyes,” he asserted sadly when she sank into his arms.

  “At this rate, I’ll worry myself to death,” she mumbled into his chest. When she leaned away, Dorinda met his gaze with emerald sobriety. “Judge Daratowke´tyo made this visit a quick one. I’ll not see you again until after the demonstration.”

  “Then come. Sit with me. I must sleep in order for the programming to take hold.” Vesarius presented her a lopsided and humorless smile as he moved to the bunk. “Please do not be alarmed this time by my twitching. I will no doubt fight the orders of my Vesar superiors, as is my tendency.”

  Dori, too, grinned slightly. “You make yourself out to be such a rogue, Vesarius.”

  “I am,” he retorted proudly. “It keeps me alert and vital, dodging plasma blasts, rebel Orthops and Old Forge police officers.”

  Chuckling, Dorinda sat down beside him on the bunk patting the Vesar’s lap. “Warrior to the last.” Then her tone sobered. “Just don’t get yourself killed on your own home planet, among your own people, in some mock war game they’ve programmed just for you.”

  Vesarius blinked at her and with a straight face assured, “I will receive a few scratches then waltz you back to the Pompeii for a second piece of our wedding cake.”

  Tilting away from him, her face a skeptical mask, she spouted, “Waltz? You said you had warrior’s toes. Couldn’t dance.”

  “I cannot ... when it comes to performing before a crowd. But,” Vesarius countered softly, side-glancing the scowling guards at the door. “Alone I will sweep you from your feet.” Then he leaned into her ear and whispered knowingly, “To a soft bed and twisted sheets.” Dorinda melted against him and returned his passionate kiss.

  “Grilcmzáe!” a harsh voice boomed. Dorinda flinched from her husband’s hot embrace and gazed, wide-eyed, at the open cell door. Vesarius only sighed in heated disappointment.

  A snarling Domenazreli towered there, mechanical fist upon his hip. His one eye a searing coal, the man’s face glowered with the dark, pitted scars of his recent violence. Would Domenazreli have a mechanical optic installed to restore his binocular vision once the flesh had
fully healed? Or would the older warrior sport his violation with twisted pride?

  “Forgive me,” Vesarius apologized dryly to the fuming spectator. “Next time we will invite you in to watch.”

  “You are supposed to be sleeping, Tankawankanyi!” Domenazreli hissed his annoyance. “I am keen to witness this test. To see you fail.”

  Vesarius slipped from beside his new wife and strode calmly to the open doorway and its darkening Vesar barrier. “I thought perhaps you would want me alive, so that you might kill me yourself, with your own Fury.”

  Domenazreli snapped his chin up defiantly. “You will die, Grilcmzáe, whether it be by my hands or a robot assassin’s. Your dishonor exceeds even your own worthless life.” His simmering gaze had shifted to include Dorinda upon the bunk.

  “My life is worthless only to those who do not understand,” Vesarius assured. “It is rich, Domenazreli.” He pivoted to regard his bride who blinked back her emerald concern to smile at him. “It is full of freedom, adventure. Now love.”

  “Love? Of a human female?” Domenazreli snorted. “What can she know of Vesar love? Of the Sarnetya ritual and true bonding?” He swung a dismissing forefinger in Dorinda’s direction. “She is inferior.” Then Domenazreli huffed in wicked irony. “You have chosen well for your status, Grilcmzáe. It dishonors you again. I look forward to granting you good journeys ... to Huaj´im.”

  As the warrior spun away, Vesarius felt his heart explode within his shoulder. With an abysmal roar he jammed a fist at the man’s retreating back. Though Dorinda gasped, Vesarius’ fist slammed instead against the door’s steel frame. Domenazreli’s hearty laugh and cruel cackling echoed along the hall as he strode away.

  “Vesarius?” Dorinda was quietly beside him. A tentative hand palmed his tense bicep. Vesarius sucked flaming air. His crested forehead scorched the cool wall. His back slumped and heaved. Even in his rage, he acknowledged that gentle touch.