by Laura Kaighn
“What are these for, Sir? If you don’t mind my question.” Majel’s eyes were round with uncertainty as she lifted several clear packages of dried vegetation.
“Vesar healing herbs. You special ordered them for me from the homeworld.”
“Oh, yes. I remember. Healing herbs?”
“I am recuperating from an injury.” Vesarius’ brows rose awaiting her reaction.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was under the impression Vesar warriors are nearly indestructible. Was I wrong?”
Now it was Vesarius’ turn to hesitate with his answer. “Yes.”
“Majel,” the old man warned.
“Yes, Mr. Howard.” The girl hastily repacked the crate. “Everything seems to be here. I’ll need your account number now.” Majel’s fingers hovered over the credit pad built into the countertop.
“XT1330-45N22Z.”
“And the name listed for the account?”
“Is it not listed for you?”
“Yes, Sir. But I need to confirm your identity.” Majel tensed.
“Of course,” Vesarius said with a bowing chin. “The name is Tankawankanyi.”
“Tank-a-wan-kan-yi,” Majel pronounced slowly bending over the pad readout. “Okay, Sir.” Majel straightened and pushed the box toward him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“You also require my handprint before the transaction is finished, Miss.”
“Oh, how could I ... I’m sorry. It’s just that we don’t get too many orders from ... for …”
“Vesar, yes. I realize that. I am ... distracting you. I require nothing else.” Vesarius placed his outstretched palm down on the readout screen so that the device could read his print and DNA. After a moment the warrior removed his mahogany digits. “Now I will leave you.” Vesarius hefted the container under one arm and strode out the store’s front door.
“Uh, have a good day,” Majel called after him.
Once outside, the Vesar placed the biocrate on the sidewalk and slipped his pack from his shoulder. Kneeling, Vesarius reopened the crate. He retrieved the books first, shoving them into the leather backpack’s main compartment. Next he removed the items which had caused the long wait. The healing herbs had needed to be shipped from a depot station out past Barnard’s Star. The handcrafted contents of the white case had come from Arizona.
As Vesarius packed his herbs carefully on top beside the small case, he heard the approaching footsteps of a young human. “You enjoyin’ the peace and quiet up there, Mr. Vesar?”
Vesarius sealed his pack and stood, sliding it gingerly back onto his shoulder. “Yes I am, Mr. Hawthorne.” He regarded the lanky teen in dungarees and a turtleneck sweater. The lad was just as wide-eyed as Vesarius remembered two weeks earlier when he had rented the cottage from the young Hawthorne’s father.
“I got the jacket you wanted, if you’ll follow me.”
“Jacket? I did not request a jacket.”
The teenager blushed. “Well, I uh, I overheard you mention the cold to Pop. Found out later you Vesars live on a hot desert planet. Figured you might want something warmer to wear.”
“Truthfully, I am near frostbite, Mr. Hawthorne. I would greatly appreciate a jacket.”
The blonde-haired lad beamed and shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets. Rolling onto his toes he chimed, “Great. Well, my grandpop left us with some old clothes, and I looked through them after you headed for the cottage two weeks ago. Found a winter jacket and some sweaters. Couldn’t get them to you sooner. Can’t use my dad’s truck except for ranger business. I hope you don’t mind hand-me-downs. They’re in good condition.”
“That is acceptable, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Auh, call me Danny. I’m not old enough to feel comfortable with ‘mister’.”
Vesarius nodded and trailed after the boy. “On Earth, ‘mister’ is a title of adulthood. I assumed because of your girlfriend you desired to be recognized as such.” The two strode down the sidewalk away from the general store.
“Oh, you mean Majel.” Danny cleared his throat and punched his hands deeper into his pockets. “Well, we may want to be adults, but ... not in every way.”
“I see,” mused the Vesar. “My people have a title for adulthood as well. Warriors are called Vesarius. You may address me so.” He extended his hand to the bouncing young man as they stepped out into the street.
“Nice to meet you, Vesarius,” Danny said. He shook the older man’s hand, not watchful as they began to cross. “Listen, if there’s any-”
Immediately Vesarius snatched up the boy and bounded for the opposite sidewalk. A hover zipped along the main avenue past them. It whisked by the warrior’s trailing braid.
Danny shook his fist once Vesarius had set him down. “Gee damn, crazy driver!” He caught his breath then looked up at the dark alien beside him. “Thanks, Mr. ... uh, Vesarius. You’re strong.”
Vesarius’ teeth ground. He braced his stabbing side with one wide palm. Nodding his agreement he muttered, “Our frame allows for larger points of attachment, more muscle tissue. Forgive me for startling you.”
“No problem. You saved me from a bad bump.” Danny’s blue eyes still glinted with wonder. “Come on,” he said a moment later. “Let me show you those clothes.”
Vesarius followed the young man along the avenue rubbing his protesting ribs and berating himself for the foolish stunt. Why hadn’t he just used his mouth? He had seen the hover zip around the corner. He could have shouted. He could have pushed the boy and gotten hit himself. The Vesar stopped his self-criticism for Danny was talking again. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I was wondering if you were planning to do any hunting up there at the cottage. I saw the crossbow in your pack.”
“Yes,” Vesarius admitted, lowering his hand from his aching torso. “I have already dressed a deer for storage. The meat is excellent.”
“Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that,” Danny nearly moaned. He stopped in his tracks.
Vesarius slowed his stride then turned around to consider the young man. “You do not like venison?”
“No, it’s not that. You need a license. You’re in a state park, you know.”
“A license to eat?” Vesarius spread his arms in confusion.
“No, to hunt. The deer belong to the state.”
“Am I to be executed now?”
Danny’s mouth dropped. “You … you’re kidding, right?”
“Actually,” Vesarius confided with a hop of his brow, “I was told killing the king’s deer used to be punishable by death in some European provinces. What is the fine?”
“Nothing.”
Vesarius blinked. “Did you not just imply that I have committed a crime? There must be a fine. Is it instead a jail term?”
“Listen, Vesarius,” Danny whispered hands up and gesturing for quiet. “I’m the son of the wildlife warden, not just the substitute clerk for his cottages. By rights, I’m supposed to turn you in. And there is a court summons and a fine.”
“Then you better do so,” Vesarius interrupted with regret.
“No, you just pulled me away from a crazy hover driver. I won’t say anything, but you ought to get a hunting license back at the general store after we get you those clothes.”
“Are you sure you do not wish to arrest me?” Vesarius offered his outstretched wrists. The warrior’s earnest expression made Danny smile, and the two continued down the sidewalk.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course, Danny. Honesty is a noble trait.”
“Well, I’ve never met a Vesar before. I know your people are, or were, warlike. Do you live differently from us? Sleep on the ground, eat your meat raw or something? Why are people afraid of you? You don’t seem scary to me.”
“I am grateful I am not,” Vesarius said. “A Vesar warrior only kills when he must.”
The young man’s eyes swelled. “Kills?”
“Your own military follows the same codes.
During conflicts or wars, there is a need to defend the Alliance. Even to kill. A Vesar is no different in that manner.”
“Then your people are peaceful, just like us. We really aren’t in any danger of your conquering us.”
Vesarius snorted in good humor. Then he narrowed his ebony eyes and lowered his timbre to admit, “Actually, I have a fleet of ships ready to swoop down and start taking hostages.”
Danny froze. “You’re joking again. Do all Vesars have a sense of humor?”
“I do. But we all do not.” Considering the young man’s earnest curiosity, Vesarius decided to offer his advice. “If in the future you meet another warrior, do this.” He made a loose fist and punched his heart with the flat side of his fingers. “If the Vesar returns the gesture with a stiff back, that warrior has no sense of humor.”
“Words of wisdom?” Danny asked smiling. He strolled into a picketed yard at the turn of a corner.
“No. Words of survival,” Vesarius answered with a menacing stare.
“Mr. ...Vesarius. When are you being serious?”
The warrior nodded. “When I hunt, when I track, when I fight, and when I kill.”
“Oh.” The young man’s eyes widened with apprehension. “Well, come on in to the office. I’ve got the clothes in a box there.”
Vesarius shadowed Danny up the steps of the cedar-shingled cottage and into the enclosed front porch that was the Hawthorne family’s realty office. Danny lifted a box out from the far corner behind the desk. Placing it on the desktop, he opened the flaps. Then Danny pulled on the contents and extracted a large leather bomber-style jacket. It was lined in heavy flannel, with a hefty zipper and flap pockets. “I don’t know how old this is,” he said. “My grandpop’s been collecting leftovers from guests since he took the cottages over from his father. Shame some of the stuff that gets left behind after vacationers leave. Most of it’s junk, but this jacket’s really above the nom. Won’t fit me, but I think the shoulders are big enough for you.”
“I am honored by your compassion, Mr. Hawthorne. My arms are in dire need of warmth.” Vesarius set down his pack to accept the proffered article. He slid his bare arms into the jacket’s soft-lined sleeves. “Definitely `above the nom’, my friend.”
“Yeah,” Danny said smiling at the perfect fit. “If you need any more clothes, I understand your unpreparedness. This cold snap is a fluke this late in summer. You probably expected a warmer vacation.”
“In truth, I ... did not expect to be on vacation at all.” Vesarius zipped up the jacket and returned his pack to his shoulder. “I had no time to prepare a proper pack.” Immediately, the warrior’s chilled arms responded to the encasing fabric. Vesarius found the warmth also soothed his aching ribs and he relaxed his pack-bound shoulder with a sigh.
“That’s funny. Almost sounds like you’d been dumped here by accident.” Danny’s constricted eyes betrayed a trace of uncertainty.
Vesarius understood that sudden suspicion all too well. “I am … waiting for someone.” He tried to quell his embarrassment, though his cheeks burned. A Vesar warrior was always prepared for his battles, even those he did not want to face. “The season was unavoidable and caught me unaware.”
“Ah, well, we can fix that,” Danny said suddenly cheerful again. “Do you need some sweaters? There were a couple I thought big enough. I just hope they’re long enough.” Danny drew out two dark, long-sleeved sweaters. One was a turtleneck woven in a pattern of running deer and evergreen trees. The other had a crew neck and was dark blue with red and green pinstripes across the chest and sleeves. “Like em?”
“They are more than adequate.” Vesarius cleared his throat and corrected himself. “I mean, above the nom, Danny. What do I owe you for them, the sweaters and the jacket?”
“Money? Oh, nothing. Except maybe a trade.”
“Trade?” Vesarius’ eyes creased at the word. “What do I possess that you would want?” He shrugged off his pack aware of the necessities that were its only contents. It was all Vesarius owned.
“Teach me something, Mr. Vesar. Tell me about Vesar women. About love.”
“Love? What do you know of Vesar love?” Vesarius’ brows rose in curiosity.
“A friend of mine did a research paper on Vesar warrior customs. You know, for school. He said your people fight for their women. You see, I … I have a guy in town who wants to take Majel away from me. He’s bigger, more handsome, has more money. His father’s a big land developer.” Danny paused as if uncertain how to word his request. “Teach me how to fight. I want to show Majel I’m better than Marcus Cooper.”
“Cooper? I may know that family.” Vesarius mused on the serendipity for a moment. Then, settling into a stuffed chair he plopped his pack between his legs. “Danny, if you want to be better, do not fight Marcus.”
“What? But Vesars ...”
“We Vesar used to fight for their women,” Vesarius explained. “It used to cost us our lives. We no longer need to win our mates. Your friend must have been studying an old history book. Unless it was written by a Vesar, the history is skewed, worthless. Take your Christopher Columbus or General Custer for examples.”
“Hey, I know my Earth history,” Danny defended with an indignant huff. “If I can’t fight Marcus, then how do I keep Majel?” The young man flopped down on the desktop to slap his thigh.
“You must love her better than this Marcus,” Vesarius answered calmly.
“How? How do Vesars love?” Danny leaned forward atop the desk.
Vesarius paused in his reply, lips pouting. “That is a private matter, Mr. Hawthorne.” Inhaling, he decided to offer what wisdom he had gleaned over the years. “What I can tell you is this: Know the woman. Understand her and please her. I am sure your father would tell you the same.”
Danny snorted. “Dad doesn’t know we’re serious.” Then he chuckled in irony. “He still thinks we’re just holding hands and holo-gaming.”
Vesarius felt his dark brows jump in amusement. “My father would have had me killed for such deceit.”
“He would?” Danny’s eyes were platters of incredulity.
“Not really, but he would have taken drastic measures to stop me, even shame me.” Vesarius dropped his gaze to consider the pack straps dangling from his fingers. “Danny,” he said glancing at the youngster’s resolute stare, “a woman is a precious thing, a soul to complement your own. If Majel truly loves you, she will defend you, and shadow you wherever you travel. She is your mate, and you hers. Inseparable.”
“Do you have someone like that, Vesarius? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“No, Danny.” The Vesar lowered his obsidian gaze to mask his regret. “I do not have the freedom to love a woman as you do.” After a moment he raised his eyes to advise, “If you love Majel, then tell her. Let her know your heart so she may show you hers.”
“These are wisdom words. Like my friend told me?” Danny still seemed skeptical.
“Yes, Danny.” Vesarius stood and slid his pack once more to his shoulder. “Wisdom words span cultural lines. They are true for Vesar, Tloni, and human. If you do not believe me, ask Majel. Women are very perceptive. They understand truth.”
Danny took the Vesar’s movement toward the door to mean he was leaving. “Wait. Here. The sweaters are yours too. And thank you, Vesarius. I will talk to Majel.” Vesarius accepted the proffered garments, nodded his thanks then turned to leave. “Don’t forget that hunting license,” Danny called after him. “Just don’t mention the deer.”
“Yes, young Hawthorne. Honors to you for your kindness.” Vesarius paused at the walk long enough to salute Danny. Then he turned back to the path, passed through the open gate, and made a left onto the main street.
With the help of a friendly soul who lived in Eagle Bay, Vesarius set his pack down at the cottage two hours later. He slumped into a porch seat to rest his aching side. “I am getting old,” he mumbled. Rather than a vacation, perhaps Vesarius needed an early retirement.
Vesarius slid from his seat to sit roughly on the porch floor facing the rippling lake. Crossing his legs, the warrior again closed his eyes. “Calm the mind. Slow the heart. Troubles resolve.” He concentrated on slowing his breathing and stilling his racing heart.
She would be here soon. He must resolve his inner turmoil; find a way to tell her he could not stay. After several minutes of forced relaxation, Vesarius grimaced at the twinge in his side. “Huaj´im,” he grumbled and rose to remove his newly acquired jacket, leather tunic, and trousers. He tossed his boots under the patio chair. Lastly Vesarius unwrapped his tender ribcage.
Shrugging against the cool autumn afternoon, Vesarius trudged to the lake again to soak. Perhaps the herbs in his pack would be helpful in healing the wounds of his heart as well as his side. The warrior would warm a pot of water after his baptismal trip into the Adirondack mountain lake.
Vesarius endured the frigid liquid around him for as long as he could. The New York Alliance doctor had advised him to alternate treatments in twenty minute shifts. The lake was ideal, as was his little fire pit on the cottage’s back lawn.
Still dripping and nearly naked with chill, Vesarius retrieved his pack from the porch. He lit his fire then settled down with a small pot of water resting on the flaming coals. Legs folded before the warmth, the Vesar seemed an ancient shaman calling the spirits to his fire for wisdom. In the Vesar tradition of warrior healing, he next chose his dried herbs by smell, crumpling them carefully and sprinkling them into the heating water. This drew out the healing properties of each and concentrated it with the others for a potent brew of fragrant medicine.
As the water began bubbling, Vesarius attempted his meditation again. “Calm,” he started, his voice a low rumble. His eyes were veiled beneath mahogany lids. “Resolve the tension, resolve the conflict. Wisdom, heal this ache, heal this heart. Calm this soul.”