Warrior Heart

by Laura Kaighn

  An older Tloni, tall and rather heavy set, spoke into a microphone suspended over his head at the transport bay control panel. “Bay doors at three-quarters. You may lift off, Pom-3,” he instructed in his species’ nasally voice.

  “Roger that, Brend,” came Vesarius’ accented reply through the speaker. “See you in a few, Captain.”

  Beside Coty, Dorinda’s heart leapt then sank into her gut, draining her lifeblood as through an emptying basin. Sighing quietly, she twisted away from the departing transport and trudged stiffly out into the Pompeii’s corridor. Noah trilled deep in his throat, following at her feet. With every few strides the otter hopped onto his back paws to brush his cheek against Dorinda’s swinging hand. So oblivious was she, Dorinda didn’t realize someone was walking beside her until Michael Bear Coty spoke in a hesitant, gruff voice.

  “Ms. Tanner, may I talk with you a moment?”

  “Huh?” Dorinda stopped her jerky walking to face the dark-haired man. She blinked. “Oh, Captain. What can I do for you?”

  Coty frowned and clasped her arms gently in his strong hands. “Actually, no. It’s what I can do for you.” The man seemed hesitant when he sighed before elaborating, “Look. I’m sorry if I eavesdropped a bit on your conversation with Vesarius, but I want to help.” Coty swallowed hard. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? I think we need to talk.”

  Dorinda leaned away from the captain’s grasp. “Dinner? How will that help?” She tried to turn away from him, but Coty didn’t relinquish her appendages. Releasing a weary sigh, Dori stressed her annoyance at the proposal. “Captain, please. Just forget what was said. I have.”

  “No you haven’t.” Coty’s gaze locked with hers. “Dorinda, I read the commander’s report about his trip into Earth’s past. Vesarius noted that you’re a widow, that you’ve been living alone for two years.” Coty glanced toward the ceiling as if to clear his head and gain inspiration. Then looking back into her smooth, pale countenance, Coty pleaded, “Please. Just come to dinner. You need to understand his position. I know Vesarius better than anyone alive. I really do want to help. Help both of you.” Coty released his grip on her, slouching in near defeat. Then he rubbed his brow with a thumb in frustration. “Dinner?” This time the captain’s gaze was imploring. “I’ll be in the executive lounge at fifteen hundred hours. Please, just be there.” He started backing away from her.

  Dorinda found her head shaking slowly in negation. “But I don’t -”

  “Just be there.” Coty slapped his hands together. “I need to get back to the bridge.” He pointed at her as he retreated. “Fifteen hundred. Executive lounge.” The captain sauntered farther down the corridor then twisted toward her once more. “Noah can show you where.” Next Coty was gone around the corner. When Dorinda finally reached the lift doors to return to her quarters, the captain was long gone. Dorinda simply sighed resignedly and patted Noah on the head, grateful for his cheery presence.

  * * *

  Vesarius shaded his eyes with one hand, surveying the glaring desert sands of Mytok. After a moment he scrutinized the flat scanner in his other palm. The Vesar tilted the instrument so Lt. Tlant could also view the findings. “I am reading a sizable crystalline deposit less than five kilometers north of here, Ambassador,” the Vesar announced to the other Tloni present. The diplomat stepped forward to glance over Tlant’s shoulder at the tiny viewscreen of Vesarius’ scanning device. “The Pvokx’s initial survey of Mytok did not note any large plutonic formations. We were surveying for other minerals. But this reading may be recent. As you know, Orthop podships are composed of a cultured, crystalline structure.”

  Tlenck leaned away from the Pompeii’s tracker and his young Tloni assistant. “Excellent, Commander. We will take the transport there to personally investigate.”

  “Excuse me, Ambassador,” the Vesar interrupted knocking the infiltrating sand from his palm scanner before shutting its lid. “It will darken in one-half hour, insufficient time for the transport to take one group and return for the other. The equipment must be loaded first, while there is still daylight.” Vesarius squinted into the blooming sunset. “Therefore, we must camp here for the evening.” Vesarius stopped for the Tloni diplomat was waggling his tawny head.

  The sentient’s feathery tail waved its own contradiction. “Unacceptable, Commander. There is no time to waste. You and your security detail have assured me there are no dangerous animals larger than a sand flea for kilometers. The equipment can be loaded again in minutes, and Mr. Dickson is competent to fly the transport in the dark.”

  “But, Sir. You would separate the landing crew. Here I can continue to monitor throughout the night for everyone’s safety. Tundra and Neesha will scout the perimeter. Come morning, I will lead a small team overland while the transport follows with the equipment. We may find other indications of Orthop occupation along the way.”

  Again the Tloni’s head shook. He hissed his irritation with a sputtering of his incisors. When Vesarius gulped to protest further, Tlenck held up a silencing paw and kicked at the orange silt beneath his footpads. “I would much rather spend the evening under hot lamps digging in crust and rock than huddled in this cold valley amongst the rubble and ghosts of Mytok.”

  Brushing grit from his furry haunches, Tlenck continued, “The archeological team and I will proceed to the deposit site first. Under caution, of course. Our pilot can scan the area for any malcontents. By the time we find anything, Miss Darby and the rest of you will have arrived to interpret the findings, if need be.”

  Vesarius frowned deeply and interjected his final concern. “I would advise against this course of action, Ambassador. Mytok is still a relatively unexplored planet. Just because we have yet to encounter danger here does not mean it does not exist.” In confidence the towering Vesar leaned closer to add, “On Vesar there are tiny spiders no larger than a grain of Tloni wheat.” He paused for menacing effect. “They are nocturnal and like most to attach themselves to the warm skin of furred mammals. These spiders suck their host’s blood, all the while injecting a paralyzing venom.” Now Vesarius shrugged. “By morning the victim is helpless to move and dinner for the spider’s younglings by the following nightfall.”

  Tlenck blinked and backtracked from Vesarius’ shadow. “Intimidation is hardly a professional method of asserting power, Cmdr. Tankawankanyi.” The shorter alien’s defense audibly trembled with forced authority, however. “Besides it is useless when one is still second in command.” Tlenck scanned the horizon beyond the imposing Vesar’s silhouette. “You are running out of daylight, Commander. I suggest you get busy reloading the transport with the most essential archeological equipment.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Vesarius snarled and stomped off to gather his security officers. Tlant scurried after the Vesar. Hearing his young apprentice, Vesarius growled to himself. “Zealous lad.” He sent a silent command to Tundra to keep the Tloni lieutenant occupied while he loaded the transport for the asinine ambassador.

  * * *

  Michael Bear Coty slouched in a dark, padded chair at the far end of the executive lounge’s elliptical dining table. Elbow on chair arm, chin in palm, he glanced up at the wall chronometer. Fifteen-twenty, it said. “She’s not coming,” the captain mumbled into his curled hand. Nonetheless, Coty stubbornly remained in his seat. Julian Sanjiers, the Pompeii’s cook, had just poked his head in to check on the place-setting. Julian had assured his captain that sushi could not be overcooked and salad would not wilt in twenty minutes.

  The door hummed open again. Coty glanced up expecting to see Julian. Instead Noah flounced in, his slim neck craning to see what food had been laid out on the table. Dorinda stepped in a moment later stalling just inside the entryway. “May I come in, Captain?” Her voice was as liltingly smooth as a still Adirondack lake.

  Coty hopped to his feet. “Yes. Please, Ms. Tanner.” He chuckled nervously. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” The captain slid from behind the table and pulled out the chair be
side his. He next motioned with a sweep of his arm for her to sit. Dorinda smiled curtly. Drawing aside the emerald skirt of her boat-neck, velvet dress, she slipped into the seat. Dorinda then laid her hands on her lap waiting for the Pompeii’s captain to follow suit. “I chose a variety of foods for you to try,” Coty explained, seating himself and pressing a small white button inset in the table’s edge. “Some you may not know. Please feel free to comment on them, or ask what it is you’re about to eat.”

  Dorinda said nothing, avoiding his eyes. Then the chair beside her rolled backward. A slinky furred body bounded up from the floor. “Noah,” the woman scolded. “You don’t belong at the table.” Glaring at her, the otter puffed out his whiskers then settled his backside into the seat. He next rested front, webbed paws upon the tabletop. “I don’t care if Jonathan let you eat with him. If we’re with others, you must stay down.” In response the Kin Companion only snorted in disgust at the captain’s lack of menu items.

  Smiling crookedly Coty assured, “Noah has a mind of his own, Ms. Tanner. Most Kin do. It’s all right. Noah many times joined us at the table. What we need to discuss will involve him as well.”

  Dorinda visibly flushed. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m just not used to seeing animals accepted as sentient beings. I assumed he wouldn’t be welcome.”

  Coty grinned understandingly. “Some things have changed for the better over time. There’s still no utopia, but sentience in all its forms is respected.” Nodding toward the otter that sat politely, nose twitching for any trace of a forthcoming meal, the captain elaborated. “Noah’s an important member of the crew, as is Tundra and the rest of our Kin Companions.” Coty noticed how Dorinda’s focus faded at the mention of Vesarius’ Kin. Hesitantly the captain waited for her gaze to return.

  But as the cook and two of Julian’s assistants arrived with the food, Coty’s eyes drifted instead to the woman’s outfit. The dress’ wide collar revealed the slender bones at Dorinda’s throat, and the cap sleeves gently draped the tops of her smooth but finely muscled arms. “Emerald suits you, Ms. Tanner,” Coty offered once the cooks had left.

  At first, Dorinda blushed at the accolade. Then her chin lifted, jade eyes glaring at him, suddenly livid. “I see some things haven’t changed in the future. A woman’s still the object of much attention.” Dorinda scowled. “Look, Captain, I need you to understand something. I don’t appreciate flirtation, nor am I interested in going to bed with you after dinner.” In her defiance Dorinda’s jaw held rock steady.

  Conversely, Coty’s skull recoiled as if he’d been slapped across the cheek. His hands splayed in defense. “Now wait a minute, young lady. I didn’t ask you here for my sake.” His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing. “Who was it that hurt you so? Who made you throw on this ... this warrior mask at a simple compliment?” When Dorinda’s lips pursed in anger and her body tensed to stand, Coty interjected, “No. Don’t walk away from this.” His voice was authoritative and absolute. Frozen in her seat, Dorinda’s silence was an iceberg chilling the room. Coty leaned into the table. “I may not know you very well, but I’ve noticed one thing. You have a warrior’s heart, Ms. Tanner. Proud and full of passion.” He eased back into his seat and added more calmly, “Perhaps that’s what my first officer saw in you when he agreed to help Dr. Sheradon save you from a life in a hover chair.”

  Coty studied Dorinda’s face, watched the muscles of her jaw contort, the furrows in her forehead crease. “Your past is gone, Dorinda. You have a new life, now. Forgive the ones who’ve hurt you. They’re long dead. Here you’ve a chance to start again. To choose again what you want to do, who you want to be.”

  Michael Bear paused to make sure she was listening. Dorinda’s mouth was a taut grimace of grudging cynicism; her eyes blinked away a hot tear that threatened to sear her cheek. No doubt his next statement would prompt a more dramatic reaction. “Dorinda, don’t choose to be the bitter, lonely woman you were. Choose to live the adventure a life with Vesarius could bring.”

  “What?” Dorinda’s eyes widened then constricted to slits. “What are you, a shrink? A marriage counselor? No, a recruiting officer.” She shoved herself to her feet. Beside her, Noah swung his head to watch Dorinda pace. “How dare you play psychologist with me, Capt. Coty. I don’t even know you. And you’re right. You don’t know me. What makes you think you know what I need?”

  “Dorinda, please sit down. I’m trying to help you.”

  The woman paused in her steps long enough to lean over the table toward him. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need anybody’s help.”

  “Yes you do,” Coty assured. “And you’re going to listen to me if I have to strap you down to that chair.” With that, the captain rose from his seat and stood behind hers, turning it slightly to accommodate Dorinda’s stiffened frame. “Now, please. Sit down.”

  Dorinda blinked and glared at Coty’s jasper-solid stare. She returned to her seat glowering at the food service before her. When Coty started filling her plate, she grumbled, “I’m not hungry.”

  Coty huffed in mockery. “Well you’re going to eat anyway. Dr. Sheradon says you’re too thin, and your blood pressure’s too low.” He set the dish of vegetables, fresh bread, and fish in front of her then filled his own plate with the fare and reseated. “Now, where were we?” The captain softened his voice congenially, the ire of a moment ago forgotten. “Ah, yes, we were discussing Vesar pride.”

  * * *

  Mytok’s sky was pitch velvet perforated by billions of shining, moth-bitten holes. Scanning the rock and rubble-strewn horizon with his eyes, Vesarius then glanced down at the glowing rectangular screen of his palm scanner. “Nothing,” he murmured. Flipping the useless instrument shut, the warrior slid it into his jacket pocket. He then shifted the weight of his idle crossbow upon his shoulder.

  “Commander,” Moxland Darby called from beside the small campfire Alvarez and the Vesar had built from the remains of a demolished equipment box. A pile of sonic picks and shovels lay nearby liberated from their container. The communication’s specialist was rubbing chilled hands over the dancing flames. “Ambassador Tlenck just checked in,” she informed. “He says the transport’s almost unloaded and should be lifting off in a few minutes.”

  “About shpleeping time,” Vesarius grumbled. “Recall Neesha from her scouting. I want everyone here in five minutes.” He turned away from the blaze, allowing him better night vision. Then, toggling the comm. switch of the device strapped to his wrist, the Vesar contacted his ship. “Pompeii, this is Cmdr. Tankawankanyi.”

  “Pompeii here,” was the filtered reply from the unit’s built- in speaker.

  “Checking in. All quiet at the campsite. The transport should be on its way back here in two minutes, arrival time in five. Is the captain available?”

  “No, Commander. He’s still at his meeting. Messages?”

  “None. I will check in again in an hour. Vesarius out.” He lowered his arm and was turning back to the camp when he heard a shuffling of sand out beyond the fire’s glow. “Tundra, is Neesha with you?” The Vesar’s answer was a grinding, scraping sound followed by the loud irregular clicks of hard mandibles. “Or-!” Something cracked against his skull before he could finish his warning. Vesarius hit the sand hard and rolled away from the towering creature, dazed but still conscious.

  A sharp bark, from perhaps forty meters away, announced Tundra’s position. The alarm was repeated by Neesha, as the tiger issued an earsplitting scream. Suddenly someone yelped “Orthop!” and two plasma bolts zinged into the night sky. Vesarius groaned and tried to rise but did not have the strength to lift his pounding head.

  “Watch out!” he heard Alvarez shout. “Peters!” Another rifle bolt cut the darkness followed by a high-pitched shriek, this one of pain. The clicking and scraping of insect speech echoed about the surrounding rocks. So, there had been survivors. But how had the Orthops avoided all detection? And why were they active now? These were diurnal creatures.

  Vesarius shook
his head to clear it. He shoved his arms into the ground to gain his knees. Where was his crossbow? Damn my eyes for not seeing the intruder, and for not seeing now. Vesarius fumbled with a free hand. He found the weapon just centimeters from one boot. More energy blasts blinked into the night. It would be easy to find his comrades. Slowly Vesarius clambered to his feet. Head swimming, he teetered forward to assist the security team.

  Suddenly a great humming sun blazed above their heads. The transport. The Orthops were clearly visible now, towering over the slumped body of a human. There were three of the beasts, and while Vesarius watched, they tore chunks of flesh from Peters with their powerful, serrated mandibles. Jerking back ovoid pates, the creatures allowed the meat to slide down their slimy gullets.

  As Vesarius tottered dazedly, trying to aim his crossbow at the nearest intruder, the sun above him cast a blinding red bolt of energy upon the scene. A terrible shockwave knocked the Vesar down. A booming assaulted his ears deafening him. It was long moments before Vesarius could think straight. Then someone was helping him to his feet.

  “Commander, are you all right?” It was Sgt. Alvarez. She shouldered his crossbow and stepped back allowing Vesarius to steady himself.

  “I am alive.” Vesarius blinked, shaking his skull free of residual haze and sand. “Did he kill them, Jude?”

  “Dickson? Yeah. The transport canon blew their stinking carapaces to smithereens and Peters along with them. Not enough to bury.” Alvarez’s dark eyes narrowed. “What happened? You were taking readings constantly. How could Orthops have sneaked up on us without us knowing it?”

  Vesarius shrugged. “Not certain. But I intend to slash Tlenck for stranding us here. After a week, those survivors must have been half starved. Yet they waited until dark to attack, when Orthops are usually inactive.”