Warrior Heart

by Laura Kaighn

  “Yet this ship is a human Alliance vessel. Do you serve with them?”

  Vesarius guessed that reciprocal introductions would have to wait. He trusted his Orthop spokesman was at least one of some rank. Vesarius could not waste his words on anyone short of a queenkeeper. “I serve with the human crew of the Pompeii for several reasons, honored one.” Vesarius concentrated on his word choice. He must not show weakness, nor would he lie. “I serve for the prosperity of the Alliance. But in our travels, I am also in search of kindred spirits, others with the warrior heart.” Vesarius adjusted his seat before continuing. He checked his course heading with the two podships now flanking him. “I have learned of a great city of kindred spirits, of an honorable history that is no more. I want to share this story with you.”

  “We are interested in this story,” came the translation. The communicator speaker continued to click and grind when the Orthop spokesman asked, “Is it truth or legend, Storyteller?”

  “The story is a truth worthy of any time, Honored One. But it is also an ancient, cautionary tale. It warns against a calamity repeated. I must speak with your Wise Ones so that they may understand the danger of that truth.”

  * * *

  Dorinda Tanner forcibly swallowed her dread. She stood beside the Pompeii’s captain on the bridge of the surrounded Alliance vessel. The buzz and beeps of the ship’s control center were distracting as together the bridge crew listened to the open transmission. “So far so good,” she offered quietly.

  Coty’s lips pursed from his chair. “Yes, but for how long?” He straightened with a sober scowl. “Vesarius is essentially going to tell them that they’ve been misinterpreting their own history books. In effect, it’s like a Tloni coming to Earth and telling us the U.S. Constitution was a fake all along.”

  Dorinda frowned and inched closer to Coty’s seat. “Do you think Sarius has a chance to reason with them? He is a good storyteller. He might pull it off.”

  Coty drew a thoughtful smirk. “His storytelling ability was an undiscovered talent until you arrived, Dori.” They exchanged enlightened glances before Coty continued, “Sarius has always been a stalwart personality. Perhaps in this circumstance, he can turn it into an advantage.”

  The bridge was quiet again as all eyes returned to the rotating golden ball that was the Orthop’s homeworld. Dorinda’s ears were cued to the Pompeii’s communication speakers with their built-in translator. What would be Vesarius’ fate? What would be hers if he failed?

  * * *

  From his seat aboard the Pom-3, the Vesar followed his podship escorts as they soared low over a sprawling metropolis of crystalline shimmer and curving design. “Your city has a grace worthy of honor, Spokesperson,” he told the translator. There was no answer, had not been for several minutes now. Though Vesarius remained mentally optimistic, his stomach was twisting knots. He piloted the transport through a massive archway, the gate into a section of Kcluchtt that displayed a layout of massive geometry far different from the outlying buildings. This was the center of Kcluchtt, the core of Orthop government and power. Nodding in satisfaction, Vesarius knew this was just where he wanted to be.

  His Orthop guide ships swooped between opaque crystal structures and coursed along the avenue for several hundred meters. Vesarius slowed his craft accordingly echoing their movements from a higher altitude. His eyes darting, the Vesar tried to absorb the images of flowing lines and elegant arcs. There were no angles anywhere.

  Over the years they had served together onboard the Pompeii, Sam Waters had taught Vesarius certain aspects of art and history. One trait of a civilization that told much, Waters had said, was how that civilization expressed itself in its architecture. Rigidity suggested strict social conformity, scale propounded ego, and form connoted artistic philosophy. Here, Vesarius was surprised to realize, Orthops had built a city which combined the strength and resoluteness of crystalline stone with the flowing, waving lines of freeform construction. Here was a commanding grace that inspired both respect and self-doubt. These aliens were clearly not the monsters the Tloni would have them believe. What a shame Vesar had never sought to know the Orthops better. We have certainly known them the longest.

  The podships before him, curving around a lacy tower of clear orchid rock, descended to a low platform painted in pastel hieroglyphics. Vesarius smiled at the sight. Moxland Darby would have appreciated the lively design of their landing pad. The warrior buffered his thrusters to follow. Touching down gently on the smooth surface of the pad, he powered down his engines. The transport dutifully sank as its nacelles retracted into their belly furrows.

  Vesarius stood. He strapped the Orthop translator to his wrist then adjusted its transmission range to maximum. Next, the warrior tugged his plasma pistol and holster from his pack and secured them to his hip. Throwing his pack up over his left shoulder, the commander moved to the transport’s hatch. As a precaution, he unsnapped the pistol’s safety loop checking its wide beam setting. Vesarius wanted to defend not kill. Finally, with a deep huff of commitment, he palmed the hatch release to suck in his first lungful of Orthop air.

  The dense atmosphere swirled with a sweetness that caught the Vesar by surprise. This was the home of the monster insect race that conquered worlds and cocooned its prisoners for later consumption? The scent held a tanginess that reminded Vesarius of Earth oranges and a lightness such as his native lillakthorn. As he stepped down from the transport, he became aware of other sensations. The air was cool and dry with a crispness not unlike autumn nights on his birthworld of Vesahran-dani. A slight breeze whispered across the hieroglyphed landing pad that spoke of other souls and movements. Vesarius sensed this city was heavily populated, yet not one of the tall, bulky orthopteroids was in view. The Vesar shivered at the draft with its ghostly echoes of civilization.

  His two escort podships had landed to either side and forward of Vesarius’ transport, some thirty meters away. Now they hummed with energy, their web-like construction glowing with an amber, crystalline pulse. Tramping toward them cautiously, the Vesar rested a hand on his pistol butt. His other held his pack in place upon his shoulder. The humming soon faded, and both pods dimmed. There was a dual popping sound. The top halves of the egg-shaped vessels swung upward with a hiss.

  Vesarius paused from his trek. Within each of the crystal eggs sat a hunched, cream-colored Orthop. Their carapaces gleamed a healthy hardness. The creatures’ quadruple eyestalks wavered at his presence. Standing there, legs apart in mock stability, the Vesar noticed the Orthops’ massive mantis forelimbs were curled toward the concealed cockpit instruments. They could kill him instantly with a tap of their plasma controls. Instead the two lurched forward and extricated themselves from their cramped surroundings as if the vessels were tight-fitting garments.

  Slowly, so as not to cause alarm, Vesarius checked to see that his translator was still activated at his wrist. Then, as his pair of two ton escorts lumbered forward on massive, arching legs – stubby power rifles held at their sides – the warrior tried his most diplomatic greeting. “Thank you, honorable warriors, for allowing me safe passage to this your handsome city of Klcluckt.” Vesarius stuttered on the pronunciation of the Orthop name. Unfortunately the translator stammered as well.

  Eyestalks pivoting, the two creatures regarded each other. Then their bodies shook violently in shared emotion. Were they laughing at him? The translator found no alternate for the duo’s rumbling emissions. Pouting Vesarius dismissed the incident and spoke again. “I have come to tell the remarkable account of a great race of beings long gone but remembered among the sentients of the galaxy.” He swept his arms in gesture and chided himself the deceitful half-truth. The Mytoki civilization had only been discovered by the Alliance ten years earlier, and only fully researched by Drs. Toh and Waters during the past few months.

  Vesarius was grateful for his own anthropological curiosity. It had allowed some of Water’s work to be revealed. Coty had forever teased the Vesar as the busybody of
the Pompeii. In truth, he only conversed with a few specialists whose interests piqued his own. Anthropology happened to be one of them.

  Vesarius addressed his hard-shelled escorts again. “Might you guide me to a speaking place where I could relate my tale to your Wise Ones?”

  Reading the expression of an Orthop was not much practiced by his people. But the warrior was certain that the position and postures of eyestalks, foreclaws and mandibles were crucial to understanding the creatures’ body language. These two simply exchanged glances then folded their segmented foreclaws across their armored trunks. Vesarius took this as affirmation and returned the gesture by crossing his own arms over his chest.

  A staccato of clicks erupted behind him. The warrior’s translator explained, “They are saluting the high chancellor of Orthop, Vesar.” Vesarius stiffened then whirled an about face, arms still crossed. Before him towered the tallest Orthop he had ever seen, fully twice his own height. The chancellor was flanked by stouter aliens – the ever-present valets all diplomats seemed to have scurrying at their feet. These servants, however, did not scurry. Instead, with the back-up of the rifle toting guards, the chancellor’s aides lumbered forward to snatch away Vesarius’ pistol and backpack, nearly toppling the slighter warrior.

  Stifling a reproach, Vesarius righted himself. “Wise One, I am Tankawankanyi of the Vesar. I am storyteller and seeker of wisdom.” Bowing, he lowered his head to the formidable creature. “Might I honor you with a story?”

  Again his translator interpreted. Vesarius watched the high chancellor’s mandibles grind and click. He felt the resonance of the alien’s speech in the thick air about him even as he listened to the electronic voice at his wrist. “You will follow us to an assembly of Wise Ones and tell us all what the Alliance has to plead.” The creature tilted his squat melon head to add, “You are our prisoner.”

  Vesarius clenched his jaw considering his reply. “High Chancellor, I do not speak for the Alliance. I have come to represent the Mytoki, your honored ancestors.”

  The Orthop leader’s serrated mouth clamped shut in what must have been surprise when the translator echoed the Vesar’s message. “You speak for the Great Oneness? That is impossible.” He clicked loudly, “What know you of our ancestors?”

  Vesarius squared his chin unaware that the gesture was alien to the Orthops. “I will tell the story to your Wise Ones. All of them.” Vesarius straightened to full height and threw back his shoulders in a display of finality. He expected he looked imposing enough before the diminutive group of towering insects. All it would take to kill the Vesar would be one snap of a jagged foreclaw.

  The creature’s head tilted again. Its short eyestalks whirled as if to pinpoint the Vesar’s exact distance for a fatal strike. Instead Vesarius received a challenge. “I do expect this story to be entertaining. Currently we are a bit preoccupied. Follow me, Storyteller.”

  Vesarius swallowed. So, curiosity was an Orthop trait as well. Perhaps there was yet a chance for a truce. The warrior strode behind the high chancellor, flanked by his now quartet of guards. If this did not work, Vesarius would have no chance for escape. He increased his pace to keep up with his longer legged escorts.

  * * *

  On the Pompeii, Dorinda and the bridge crew intently listened to the exchange being conveyed through the Vesar’s translator. Beside her, Coty was a stone thinker in his command chair, jasper eyes unfocused. Her own face was no doubt a mask of concern and fear.

  Coty talked over his fist. “How long can we monitor him, Jonas?”

  “This wrist translator’s from Mytok, a relic,” the engineer reminded up from the engine room. “Even fully charged, its backup battery will only last ten minutes, max, at the setting he’s got it.” Jonas exhaled his tension through the communit. “The device wasn’t meant to be used as a transmitter. We’ll lose contact soon.”

  “Does Vesarius know this?” Dorinda asked resting her free hand on Tundra’s muscular shoulder. The Alaskan malamute occasionally groaned with worry. The woman’s other digits still cradled the Vesar’s second medallion close in against her chest.

  “I’m sure he does,” came Jonas’ reply through the bridge speaker. “He’s the one who turned it on once he left the safety of the transport.”

  “I must say, he’s clever,” Coty professed straightening in his chair with a sigh. “A communicator unit would have been too conspicuous, maybe confiscated. This way we can listen surreptitiously and still seem like we’re just Vesarius’ taxi.”

  “But they must be suspicious of us,” Dorinda countered. “The Pompeii did come unannounced, the transport separately.”

  “Let’s hope Sarius’ story distracts them from those little details. We need to be ready to perform our part in this play.” Coty glanced to Zaneta Talyabo’s station. “Still monitoring for that power emission, Zan?”

  “Aye, Sir. So far I’ve nothing on the scanners but normal Orthop operations. When they activate the Arch, you’ll be the second to know.”

  Dorinda drew her lips into a determined line. “Come on, Sarius. Tell them a good one.” The consequences of an unconvincing argument were all too obvious. She doubted Coty would hesitate to use the ship’s proton shells to destroy the time machine and everyone standing near it. The Alliance captain was far too professional a soldier for inanity. Dorinda listened once more as Vesarius’ voice echoed hollowly through the bridge speakers.

  * * *

  “Kcluchtt City is very striking, High Chancellor. Is it your capital?” the Vesar asked as they descended a moving ramp. The escalator deposited them at street level. Several podships droned by hovering just inches above the wide avenue.

  The Orthop leader pivoted his eyestalks to consider the shorter Vesar. “Head city? Yes. The central government is here.”

  “By what form of government do the Orthops live? Do you have a president? A king? Is she or he elected or born into power?”

  “Why do you ask, Storyteller? Do the Mytoki you represent not know the system by which we base our society?” The chancellor’s mandibles clapped in challenge. His sarcasm was not lost to the Vesar.

  “The Mytoki lived by a governing elite centered on a queen, High Chancellor. I simply ask if it is also so with their descendants.” The group was marching down a side street now, one which would soon open onto a large, exposed square. Vesarius guessed; that was where he would find the Orthop’s Time Arch and his destiny.

  “We follow the wisdom of our ancestors, Vesar. Our queen is well concealed. You will not find her here, but we can communicate her wishes freely to our people.”

  “Yes, I know of your telepathic gifts, Wise One,” Vesarius acknowledged watching the city skyline widen. “Our own Kin speak to us in a similar manner.”

  The chancellor stalled his trek. He swung his great body around to face the shorter biped. “You compare us to your animals? You think our gifts equal to the crude mumblings of your lowly servants?”

  Vesarius leaned away from the chancellor’s imposing mass. “I do not mean to insult, Wise One. I simply desire to acknowledge our similarities. We Vesar do not have your gift, not with each other. But communication and understanding are shared traits of both our people.”

  “Yes, communication,” the Orthop leader said flatly. “Our queen is eager to hear your story.”

  Vesarius blinked. So it had been the queen’s idea to allow him safe passage. She was, of course, secure in the hive. It seemed, with access to a time Arch, curiosity was an obliging luxury.

  The group strode out onto a flat, mosaic-embedded plaza. Immediately Vesarius sighted the crystalline platform and control dais that were his goal. They were surrounded, however, by an assembly of Orthops. Quickly he raised his wrist translator to whisper, “The time Arch is not more than-”

  “You speak, Storyteller?” the chancellor inquired his eyestalks craning back over his hunched, rounded shoulders.

  “No, Sir. I was clearing my throat,” Vesarius fibbed. “The air here is ra
ther dry.” In illustration, he coughed into his palm. No doubt the Pompeii’s bridge crew were clamping their ears in response.

  “Your homeworld is dry as well, is it not, Vesar?” the Orthop leader countered.

  “Yes. However, I was raised on a colony world, and the Pompeii’s atmosphere is formulated for human comfort,” the Vesar explained honestly. Then, his eyes growing wide, Vesarius’ attention was drawn to the machine they were approaching.

  Surrounded by its company of creatures, the Arch rose fully three times the height of an average Orthop’s eyestalks, large enough for a podship’s transit. Vesarius’ escorts guided him to an empty platform beside the control dais. One of his guards motioned with a foreclaw to step up onto its translucent lavender surface. The trio of stairs, however, was meant for an Orthop’s legs. Vesarius had to heave himself up where he could stand and face the score of leader drones who waited to hear his story and tell their queen.

  “Storyteller,” the high chancellor addressed, “these are our Wise Ones. We have assembled to reunite our people with the Great Oneness, the ancestors who long ago wrote of their return to prominence. What do you know of them?”

  Swallowing and drawing in a deep meditative breath, Vesarius closed his eyes to the alien city’s shimmering crystal. For strength, he imagined his father’s austere face and his mother’s warm cobalt eyes. He vowed he would honor them with this retelling. More than his life was at stake, even more than his soul.

  “Wise Ones,” Vesarius began in his deepest, most authoritative voice. “I have come to speak for the Mytoki ... to tell you a great story of discovery and danger. Hear my words and know that they are truth.” Vesarius paused waiting for his decoder to stall in its clicking, grinding work. He waited, too, for some heckler to object to his authority, but none spoke. Obviously they were prepared to listen then either believe or dismiss him. The Vesar wanted it to be the former. Dismissal meant only one outcome. “Many centuries ago your ancestors realized that their technology had outgrown their ability to govern it wisely. One trip to another time brought home this truth when the travelers returned carrying a fatal plague.