By Jane Carver

Majestic cream-colored sails billowed then slackened as the astral tides played tag among the sheets. Captain Merlo stood next to his helmsman while he maneuvered the ship’s large wheel.

The captain gave Gambrel permission to stand beside him. The process of playing the wind, using it, fascinated him. His curiosity peeked, he vowed to learn more about this great vessel. In the meantime, he asked Merlo if he could change his sleeping situation.

To his surprise, the captain did not oppose him sharing a cabin with Vangee.

“Why? We are not mated, and I fear others will think wrong thoughts.”

Merlo’s chuckle caught him off guard. “Don’t get me wrong. I do not laugh at either of you. Rather I consider those who might think Vangee would do anything inappropriate while in your care. For one thing, she thinks she fancies Boratax.” The captain frowned. He did every time he mentioned the explorer’s name. “If she declared you a friend and considers herself safe with you in the cabin then you are.”

Merlo closed the subject.

Deckhands scurried along the railing, pulling ropes to maneuver the enormous sails. “Captain, with all the technology aboard this ship, why do you handle sails by hand?” Gambrel pointed to a trio hauling a thick rope.

“Love of the tides, my friend. Love of the tides.” Merlo did not elaborate. His eyes roamed endlessly from sails to rails to crew who tightened ropes here then slackened them other places. At times, the man listened to the voice coming through a personal communicator tucked into his ear.

“You communicate with someone?”

“Yes, my pilot below in the control room. He steers us and warns of danger. He stays in constant contact with the others in the fleet.”

An idea occurred to Gambrel. Handid possibly sailed on one of those ships. Perhaps the captain could help locate him.

“Captain, do you have a list of those who sail in the fleet?” The reality of finding his greatest enemy grew better when the man nodded.

“Would it be possible to find out which ship a man might be on?” Another nod sent his spirits soaring.

Before he showed too much interest, Gambrel left the captain to return below decks for a morning rise meal. Few tables stood in the open area. Others had eaten earlier, and these remained for latecomers. A cool tankard of ale and a plate of hot meat and rolls satisfied his hunger. He rose when a group came to break down and store the planks. Surrounded by cleaning women and chattering young ones, he climbed back on deck. His belly filled, he assessed his next move.

Sailors worked on the deck while passengers leaned against the rail or talked in small groups. Many played games and others read. He would get bored soon enough if there was nothing more to do than this. Quick reasoning and non-stop action filled his life.

Across the deck in the corner where he spent his first afternoon, he spotted a woman sitting alone. She held a vid-square. A large green-laced shawl draped her head and fell over each shoulder. When out of her room, only Vangee covered herself in such a manner.

“‘Brel.” Pleasure echoed through the small area when she spotted him. Today she wore a dress of sorts, a long tunic over leggings. The restful green suited her dark eyes with their narrow slits of gold. She patted the deck beside her. “Join me.”

“What are you reading?” He suspected a story of some kind.

“The manifest for our ship and others in the fleet.”

Her answer surprised him. “Is this list your concern?”

“It isn’t. Not really. But my father proposed this voyage, and I should be aware of what is going on.” She pushed a button to skim past several rows of supplies.

“Do you have a list of passengers aboard the ships?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I seek an acquaintance from a long time ago. We lost track of each other, and I recently discovered this person might be living on Ancade. Since I was on the planet, I decided to find him. By then however, most inhabitants were aboard ship. I have no idea where to look now.” He gave her his most appealing glance. “May I view the lists?”

“Of course. Perhaps later in the morning rise we can go to the cabin, and you may scan them there.”

He nodded and rose.

Pessios and his friend Canfanto walked up. “Join us, Gambrel. This sailor—Zamour is his name—will show us how to tie the kind of knots the sailors use. I try to learn something new each day.” The man’s snake-like hiss emphasized his Lazzard origins.

When he hesitated, Vangee leaned nearer. “Make the most of these men, ‘Brel. Jacon said they traveled Ancade and other near planets as free merchants. They may know the man you seek.”

He joined the two though he didn’t like being part of a group. He glanced around for the men he met the night before. But they weren’t among those on deck.

“You look for Gastrojan and his friends.” Pessios’ words surprised him. He must be careful around the Lazzardian because he observed much and guessed more. He said nothing. Perhaps Pessios was of a like mind regarding Gastrojan. Gambrel would not worry too much about the obnoxious man or the two with him if that were true.

He shrugged. “Let’s say it’s better to locate your enemies before they find you.”

“Enemy. You see Gastrojan like this?” Pessios hissed low.

“He is no friend. An un-friend makes him an enemy where I work.”

“Last even tide when he spoke, I took his scent. I will be aware if he is near even if he does not show himself.” Pessios nodded once with a decided jerk of his narrow head. His forked tongue flashed out in an agitated way, flicking around his face. A distinct odor like desert sand filled the air. “Sorry, the distinctive smell comes from me. Our people give off this aroma when we are troubled. I try not to offend.”

The man apologized often, but his ability to present a threat if needed did not diminish because of it. Would Pessios be a good man to have at his back if necessary?

* * * *

“The fleet is divided into smaller clusters. Each captain reports to a designated leader, and he reports to Captain Merlo. These vid-squares are divided according to those groups.” Vangee laid numerous viewers on the table in their cabin.

“Who are you looking for? Perhaps I know her?”

A quick glimpse at the screen before Gambrel shot her a mocking glance. “What makes you think I look for a woman?”

“You’re not?”

He shook his head. “I seek a man. Remember? I told you earlier.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot.” Her teasing said she had not. “May I help?”

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he pushed several squares her way.

“Who are we looking for?”

“A man named Handid. I doubt he will use his real name.”

“Why would he change?”

“Perhaps he hides something. I don’t know. It’s just a guess.” He avoided her gaze. Her curiosity might get her in trouble. Better to go easy on the search if she helped.

“What will you do if you find him?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Exasperated, he again slipped into a more comfortable role with her, for a moment forgetting their positions aboard ship.

“Not usually, but this is interesting. And there’s not a lot to do, except help you.” She slumped in her chair.

Did his disapproval bother her? He noticed, experienced regret at his inhospitable question. Boredom bothered him too.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude. I appreciate your aid.”

She brightened, and her eyes twinkled. Intent on the information before her, she sat straighter and leaned forward.

Several 60-brace went by while they searched for Handid. Occasionally Gambrel showed her a name. Did she know that person? She recognized all but one, the being a Rossicradic, a flying creature. Gambrel snorted. Handid did not fly.

At some point, she brought drinks. He tasted the brew and nodded, smacked his lips, and drained the mug. A loud belch rocked the room. When he caught her lifted brow, he realized what he had done.

“I apologize for my rude behavior. I told you before I am a rough wanderer, not accustom to being with someone like you.” His face warmed in a hot blush.

Vangee graciously didn’t mention his embarrassment. Instead, she bowed her head and accepted his apology. “Men act so in the tavern where I sometimes met Jacon and Father.” At her idle comment, she blanched. Had she forgotten her father’s death?

One hand covered her face for a moment while she calmed an inner struggle. “I miss him. So very much. He’s all I had.” A sob escaped past splayed fingers.

Gambrel reached over and touched her. Despite its cool appearance, her skin seemed hot. “You are ill, lady?”

His concern got her attention. “Ill?”

“You are too warm. Perhaps you have done too much since we set sail.”

“I am always this way, ‘Brel. It is my nature. Nothing to be of concern.” For a few seconds, her fingers remained locked in his.

He slowly removed his hand. No sense teasing himself with thoughts of her lithe body wrapped around him, her hot hand warming his balls, threading through his hair, and cupping his face.

He bit his lip to prevent the sigh threatening to escape. Time to change the subject. “How does one tell time here?” He sounded grouchy but couldn’t help it.

She kept her eyes on the vid-square. “Listen. The ship’s bell tells us. We have clocks of course, and can get one if you prefer. But I like to hear the bells.”

In the middle of her explanation, her stomach growled. She blushed while he laughed. “Time for you to eat.” When she left her chair and used the shawl to hide her face, he remained seated.

“You’re not coming?”

“I will finish this passenger manifest. Come later.” He ducked his head, hoping she asked no more questions. She did not, but neither did she leave.

“Why do you avoid others?” One hand on the door, she seemed to accept the fact he refused to join her for eventide meal.

“I do not avoid others. Many become nervous in my presence. I seek to ease their discomfort.” His explanation left a lot to interpretation, but he thought she would understand.

“Your generous heart hides an injured soul, I think.” So saying, she slipped out of the door.

He didn’t think he had a generous heart, but his essence had been blasted apart long ago and had never come back together. Injured wasn’t the word for his soul. Non-existent fit better. He finished viewing the list then reached for another.

* * * *

After a short time, he drew on his coat and left the cabin to find food. The air on deck smelled fresh. A result of the atmospheric bubble they traveled in.

Pessios hailed him from across the way, but Gambrel waved him off. The other invited him back later. Jacon met him on the stairs and spoke regarding his day and what he planned for the days ahead. When Gambrel entered the dining area, only three tables remained.

He secured a plate and a cup of ale and sat at the end of the last table near the wall. He scanned the room, constantly on the alert to danger. No one bothered him, and he caught no one’s eye.

Vangee wasn’t there, but he spotted Effie and her daughter. Dara sat with a toy in one hand and a large slice of bakery in her other. Her back to Gambrel, she didn’t notice him. He made no attempt to attract her attention or her mother’s.

His hunger satisfied, he braced his elbows on the table and sipped his ale. Conversations buzzed in every corner, none of them loud enough to make sense of. He needed no extra skills to know Dara approached. Her hide footings slapped the planks as she ran to his side.

She only came to the top of his thigh so she propped both arms on him, overlapped her hands then plopped her chin on top. Her head once again tilted far back. One curly wave fell over her forehead when she plunked her head down so firmly.

“Name?”

He might choose to ignore her, but the tiny one refused to go unnoticed. She wanted his name?

“Gambrel Sarjean.” He turned back to rest his arms on the table. A little hand patted his thigh. The child remained at his side.

She grinned at him and patted his leg again. Warmth radiated through his leathers where her hand laid. A healthy baby aroma tickled his nose.

Dara stood back and held out her arms. “Up.”

Oh, fick, not again. He really didn’t want anything to do with this child.

His eyes closed in order to calm his mind, he opened them and caught Vangee ’s grin. She stood in the doorway. Others did not see her, but his mind’s eye penetrated her hood, imagined a mischievous smile. Did she dare him to hold the tiny one?

Never one to hurt a tender heart, he reached out and scooped up the girl. He stood her on his leg. Even then she barely came to the middle of his chest.

Dara walked up his thigh. Explored his buttons and checked the contents of his coat pocket. All the time she chattered in her own childish language. Did anyone but Effie understand the prattle?

He caught Vangee ’s glance and shrugged. Her gaze shifted to Effie and motioned the mother back to her seat. Effie smiled, sat, and waved to her daughter. Dara returned her greeting enthusiastically and giggled.

Suddenly the child stopped talking. She stared at him, expecting an answer. Did he miss something? “What?”

She repeated her question. Something about bakery. By pointing, she indicated the leftover sweet on his plate.

He gave it to her, and she scooted down to sit on his lap, her short legs dangling between his. When offered a bite, he shook his head and politely said no. But she offered more than once. Checking that no one watched them, he took the miniscule bite out of her chubby fingers. Dara crowed in delight.

For the better part of a 60-brace, they sat together. She chatted and asked questions he ignored or answered as best as possible, considering he seldom understood her words. How very female of her, he chuckled, when she arched her shapely orange brow.

A fresh mug of ale appeared at his elbow. Gambrel swallowed a deep draught without questioning who brought it. Once again, a pale green hood turned in his direction. He lifted the mug and raised his own brows in question. With a regal nod, Vangee acknowledged her contribution to his satisfaction. His smile said he appreciated her aid.

While this silent communication past between man and woman, Dara fell asleep against his muscled chest. He became aware of the fact when the silence overwhelmed him. No one else around, her obvious lack of chatter startled him.

Years before Gambrel held a sleeping girl child in his arms. The passage of time had not dimmed his memories of holding one so small. Effie seemed to have disappeared somewhere so he picked up Dara and placed her on one shoulder. She looked smaller there than sitting on his lap. Standing carefully, he walked the long room toward the cabins.

He opened the door and, like magic, Effie appeared. “She wore herself out,” was all he said. He eased the sleeping child into her mother’s arms. “I didn’t hurt her.”

“Sire, my daughter knows no strangers, but she chooses carefully those she goes to. Usually, I find her with an elder. Or a youth. Perhaps a lady friend. Never have I seen her go to one so large and male.” Effie’s love sparkled in her eyes as she snuggled Dara closer. “She is all I have left. Her father died working in our fields. His heart gave out. Dara shares Flamment’s hair color. His child will be lovely because her father was a handsome man. Beauty of the spirit is another form of splendor. You, sire, have a beautiful spirit. Dara recognizes it.” Gambrel shifted from one foot to another and would not meet her gaze. Effie blushed. “Good night.”

* * * *

When he entered his cabin, the light next to Vangee ’s bed glowed brightly. She sat crossed legged in gown and robe on her bedding. A vid-square lay beside her while she viewed another.

“Good even tide, “Brel.” She greeted him but didn’t raise her head.

He still experienced doubts about being in the cabin alone with her. Why didn’t she smile, face him? He grunted by way of welcome as he shed his coat.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he removed his boots and foot covers. For a moment, he forgot her anywhere around. He lay back on the cushioned surface and stretched his arms above his head. He blew a gusty sigh of relaxation.

He lay with long legs extended across the floor and longer body stretched out across the bed. A twitter of laughter floated his way. Surely not, he groaned. She would not laugh at him. He sat up and removed the band holding his braid. Long fingers worked the hair loose. He ran his hands through it and massaged his scalp. He wiggled his stubby toes, the only thing short and thick on his body.

Again, soft sigh of laughter tickled his ear. What was so ficking funny?

“Vaangeee?” His exasperation filled each letter as he drawled her name. Clearly, she laughed at him, but he knew not the cause.

Beyond his bed, a full-blown belly laugh broke loose. She lay on her bed rolling from side to side, enjoying a private joke.

“Vangee!” Gambrel snapped her name, forgetting with whom he dealt. At that moment, he treated her like any other annoying female. “What the fick is so funny?” Hands on hips, he waited for her answer.

Chuckles and giggles prohibited a response for a full minute. Finally, she got hold of her humor and cut a purely delighted look his way. “Oh, that was so wonderful.”

At once, he realized she did not make fun of him but enjoyed some kind of memory. “And what pleased you so much?”

“You and Dara.” Another round of laughter filtered from her vicinity. “She talked endlessly and made little sense. Like any male, you understood little of what she said but answered at the right moments, keeping her happy. The tiny one had a wonderful time on your lap.”

“I’m so glad I amuse you.” Gambrel spoke with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Other females have sat on my lap and had a better experience.” He shrugged, “But Dara did well for one so young.” He turned his back on her and unbuttoned his shirt. She needed a moment to digest the implication of what he said.

His chuckle came out softer than hers when she gasped.

“’Brel!”

“Yes?” Innocence personified.

She sputtered at his bland expression.

Enough of games. He caught her gaze and smiled. When she answered his with one of her own, the teasing ended for the moon rise.

Feeling better than he had in a long time, he gathered up several vid-squares and climbed into the middle of his bed. A headrest against the wall, he settled back to read more manifests. For a while the room lay silent.

When he grew tired of searching with no results, Gambrel picked up a vid-square labeled History of Ancade. The narrative ran far back in the past, farther than he would have thought. Ancadians kept meticulous records of their ancestry. He knew where his father and father’s father had been born and died, but nothing more.

This record began thousands of years ago. The history held his attention until he came across something that defied interpretation.

“Vangee?”

She sat engrossed in her own reading.

That didn’t stop him from calling her again. “How do you pronounce this? Joseph? His last name is a bunch of letters.”

He expected an answer. He didn’t expect her to step up into the middle of his bed. What the fick! Before going to his side, she grabbed the other headrest and tossed it to the wall near his. Sat close and read the vid-square he held.

He turned his wrist so she could see easier. Soft purple hair fell across his hand, and beads of sweat watered his palm. Her natural woman’s perfume, which reminded him of fresh air, tantalized his nostrils. Silken nightclothes swished in the heavy silence. She, however, seemed unaware of his reactions.

“Oh, him. That’s Joseph Romeauxleaux. You would say Romolo. Where he lived, the people added more letters than needed just to make us crazy a few thousand years later.” Her humorous explanation complete, she settled back against the bolster and resumed her reading.

Words on the vid-square in his hand danced before his eyes. He couldn’t focus knowing she sat so close. Did she not feel what he did? That tremble in the pit of his stomach, the skin tightening along his thighs? Was the cabin warmer than minutes ago? Apparently not.

In his role as an enforcer, Gambrel practiced patience. Now he dredged up all the patience he could muster. After what seemed like forever, he found he breathed easier. He read whole sentences with understanding.

Later he muttered her name again, lost in the myriad details of the first ship flights testing the atmospheric bubble. When she didn’t answer, he glanced at her only to discover she slept.

Propped on one hip, shoulder braced against the wall, she faced him, vid-square in her lap. She sat with her head fallen forward on her chest. The belt to her robe loosened at some time, and the edges lay open. Her gown barely covered her breasts. Only the nipples lay under the shimmering material. The deep valley between them begged for his hand. Demanded a finger caress her skin. To touch, to experience.

All the sensations he conquered a 60-brace earlier came flooding back. This time, his whole body tightened and vibrated with need. He closed his eyes and counted. Prayed for patience he needed but feared he’d used up. His fingers itched to stroke her smooth skin.

But if he touched her once, he wouldn’t be able to resist the next time or the one after that. Like a Dobrin virus, she would infect his blood and call him to her with every breath. He shook his head, disgusted with his thoughts.

As if she didn’t call to him now.

While his heart said, don’t touch, his hand crept closer to her neckline. Just to run the back of one finger down her chest to the top of her gown. Deep asleep. Slow breaths. She would never know.

But he would. He’d burn every time she came in sight if he touched her. She should get off his bed, away from him. Right now.

Before he lost his nerve, he did something he used to do with the whores of Kandrious. His lips pursed, he drew a deep breath, leaned forward, and blew steady but gently down the front of her gown. The slight breeze chilled her skin and raised tender bumps. She groaned in her sleep and drew her arms tighter across her stomach. The result lifted those magnificent breasts closer and higher.

He gulped at the success of his ploy. His eyes focused on her breasts, he let one hand rub his erection, his shaft so hard he ached to bury it in her body. Exquisite pain shot up between his legs, the kind that bordered on intense pleasure. He rubbed more and deeper. He shouldn’t. He’d mess his leather and embarrass himself if she woke and caught him. Fick! She might wake if he tried to leave the bed.

Patience! He cursed and willed his body to calm, cool. Not easy and it took time. Every fight and nasty bit of action he had ever taken part in ran through his mind. They eased his conscience while precious time slipped by, helping him forget his desires. Like a beached flyer, sucking in choking draughts of thin air, he wondered if the mental cooling system in the cabin worked. Would his shaft burst inside his leathers before it shriveled?

When the pain and fear of ejaculation eased, he slid off the bed. “Vangee.” Did he sound desperate? Maybe. Probably. “Wake up. Time for bed.”

Her snuffled agreement and slurred good night solved nothing. She apparently thought herself in her own bed. Sliding off the bed rest, she lay on the sheets, wiggled a bit then rolled on her stomach, one arm up, legs wide apart.

A groan escaped Gambrel. The woman would be the death of him yet. “Vangee. Go to your own bed.” Desperate. Definitely desperate. “Get up!” His last words came out more a command than he realized because she opened her eyes and propped up on one elbow.

Oh fick! Her gown slipped down one shoulder and bared her breast. “If you don’t get out of my bed this minute, I’m going to haul you out myself. And it won’t be pleasant!” A winded Glester racer after a hard run sounded no better than him.

“What? Where am I, ‘Brel?” She sat up, not fully awake. “Oh, sorry.” Like a child she stumbled from his bed to hers. Her robe slid to the floor, a shimmering pile of heated material. On hands and knees, she crawled into her bed then fell forward on her stomach once again. A slight twist of her hips and her gown pulled taunt over the firm cheeks of her rear.

With a vicious mental snap, Gambrel turned out all the lights. Awake for another 60-brace, he prayed for control, patience. Fought the urge to bury his body in her alluring flesh.

Morning rise came to a man strung tight and angry. Only he and the gods knew what caused his anger. He stomped out of the cabin before Vangee stirred and refused to talk to her all day.

By Jane Carver

Voices below deck greeted Vangee with reserved respect. Gambrel would dust anyone who didn’t show her deference. A few like Jacon greeted welcomed her, warm friendship evident in words and actions. While Jacon, his wife and daughter spoke to her like an old acquaintance, none laid a hospitable hand on her arm or patted her shoulder. How must she feel, he wondered, to be surrounded by those who know you but never be touched? How lonely she must be.

He refused to see himself in her circumstance. No one laid a hand him except in a fight, and he never missed any of the warmth associated with such contacts. In a lifetime long ago, someone loved and cherished him. All that disappeared in the flash of a blaster. He gained nothing by letting anyone come close again.

While Vangee talked to fellow passengers, he looked around the large room. Individual cabins lined the hull from stern to bow. Families lived in smaller ones. Unmated men shared larger ones. The same for unmated women. Portholes along the hull allowed for a clear view of space. Despite the crowded room, the high ceiling alleviated a sense of being cramped. Quite pleasant for a man his size.

Jacon moved to his side while Vangee stood on the other. Her hood hid most of her face. Gambrel remembered her saying how much she disliked meeting strangers.

“Vangee Windrum and Gambrel Sarjean, meet some of our fellow passengers.” Jacon introduced a small barrel-chested man who stood shorter than Vangee. “This is Wangon, master grower. Chiffro, his mate and his son, Aldin.” Vangee nodded, but Gambrel was forced to accept the man’s clasp in welcome. The young one, Aldin, impressed him when he stepped forward, bowed slightly to Vangee then clasped his arm like the father.

Jacon nodded to the family, and they moved aside. A young man came forward. His dark skin and lizard-like features proclaimed him a member of the Lazzard race. “Pessios, sire. Lady.” He also clasped Gambrel’s arm in greeting and gave Vangee a bow of respect.

While Gambrel debated whether he smiled or not, Pessios lifted the sides of his large mouth. A narrow red tongue came out and flicked the air between them. Gambrel stood his ground but wondered if the man tested him somehow.

“I offend you, sire. Not my intention. I merely tasted your scent so I can find you if necessary. Our people protect those who are important or beloved in this way.” With another bow, he passed on out of sight.

For the next sixty-brace, Gambrel met men and woman who seemed no different from him in their desire to seek a better life. Yet he knew himself unlike them. His existence revolved around killing, hunting those who killed. Once he had worked as an enforcer. Then he became a being bent on revenge. Fifteen years he had looked for Handid and the criminals that followed him. Now only one man remained alive. No one here could imagine the way Gambrel lived.

Pessios and a fellow Lizzardian named Canfanto talked to Jacon and Gambrel while Vangee visited with Effie, Dara’s mother, the girl he met earlier. Vangee caught his eye and nodded toward Dara. Did he notice the child trying to escape her mother’s arms, intent on reaching him?

The little girl frowned at her mother and squirmed in her arms. She implored him with her gaze, but he ignored her. Finally, she gave up trying to get to him and put her head on her mother’s shoulder where she promptly fell asleep.

Most of the women left to put their children to bed. Gambrel stood beside Vangee, her shoulders slumped. Weariness rode her hard. Having no way to tell time on the ship, he assumed it must be late. About to take leave of her and Jacon, he paused when the other man put out a hand to stop him. Jacon raised one eyebrow and nodded toward a small group of men approaching.

“You are the one called Sarjean?” The man speaking wore leathers like Gambrel but stood far shorter than he. He looked to be a man of mature years, in the prime of life. He would probably also fall short of Gambrel’s extended years. Flat black eyes, wide and large, stared at the taller man. While his face appeared human, certain aspects of his physiology showed him to be otherwise. The man shed no light on his origins. He left no doubt what he thought of Gambrel joining the voyage so late and in the manner he did.

He introduced himself as Gastrojan. His companions were Pharlie and Lycol. “Who brought you aboard? We signed up when the contract opened. Who are you to rate this kind of treatment? Better for all of us if you leave at the first port.” The man hooked his thumbs deep in his belt and took a wider stance. A fighter’s stance.

Never hook your thumbs. If you need to throw a punch, you’d be out of luck. Trapped. Gambrel smiled at the thought of hitting the cocky bastard. No matter what side of the universe he traveled to, men like him always made their presence known. His attitude would make the trip harder to bear.

Gambrel’s smiles usually scared men, but Gastrojan didn’t change his stance or glare. Faster thinkers than their leader, his friends stepped back. Gambrel let the smile slip from his face, and he shook his head, sorry for the shorter man.

Before anything inappropriate happened, a hush fell over the group. The aura of the room shifted. He no longer wanted to pound the sanctimonious sneer off Gastrojan. The other man looked confused.

A soft hand touched Gambrel’s tense arm muscles. Immediately he relaxed. He didn’t want to, but he did.

Vangee stepped to his side. “Good night, Gastrojan. Our introduction can wait for another day.” She turned to Jacon, but still touched Gambrel’s arm. “Friend Jacon, I will join you at morning rise.” She climbed the stairs, leaving two of the three men bemused by their sudden disinterest in fighting.

The staring contest between the two men would have continued, but the younger man turned away. The trio left.

Jacon shook his head, glanced at Gambrel, and smiled. “She did it again.” With no further explanation, he too quit the room.

She used her power as a Radiant to empathically influence the men’s behaviors. Gambrel wondered—could she avert a war if necessary?

Deck lights glowed in small patches. Otherwise, the only light came from the sun behind the fleet. Seven morning rises would pass before they left the dying planet behind. He caught up with Vangee by virtue of his longer stride, not because he hurried.

Neither spoke until they reached the door leading to the cabins below. Vangee stopped on the first step leading to the upper deck. “I must speak to the captain about those men.”

* * * *

Gambrel entered the cabin to find a larger bed attached to the wall where a smaller one once stood. Someone had removed the plate and cup Vangee brought earlier. He tested the mental control over the lights and smiled like a little boy when they brightened then faded and went out at his command. He lit one so it glowed softly against the bank of windows.

A gusty sigh escaped his lips. The bed’s firmness beneath his rear felt good, soft but not mushy. The black coat lay across the chair. His shirt buttons slipped apart slowly. The day was catching up to him. He scratched the hairs on his belly then tossed the shirt over his coat.

He’d lived in the thing for days. When did he last put on clean clothes? He couldn’t remember. Moving fast and looking for a killer who didn’t want to be found meant sleeping in the same clothes quite often. A self-sufficient man, he would take care of cleaning his things tomorrow.

He pulled a knife from inside his boot as the door opened. A small body slipped through. Instincts told him to throw the blade, but recognition held his hand.

“What the fick are you doing here?” Gambrel reached for his shirt but couldn’t get a grip on it, mainly because his gaze was locked on Vangee.

When he caught her eyeing the knife, the blade longer than his hand, he closed it and slipped it beneath his pillow. A weapon would not change the subject as far as he was concerned. Vangee Windrum had no business in this cabin.

“A fighter never gives up all his arsenal, huh?” She didn’t sound disappointed, scared, or defiant, merely amused. “If you promise no one but me will see that, I won’t say a word to Merlo.” Further into the cabin she moved, took off her cape, and hung it on a peg.

Decorations on the wall turned out to be drawers filled with feminine things like the lavender gown and robe she pulled out. She shook out the wrinkles then crossed the cabin, the garments thrown over her arm.

“What the fick are you doing in here?” Gambrel’s bellow would have awoken the dead if any were around. He harbored a sudden fear her father might rise from his watery grave and chase him off the ship into the breathlessness of space. The mere thought made Gambrel gasp for air.

“’Brel, are you all right?” Vangee came closer, her hand out to touch him, but he waved her away.

“Get out, lady. You don’t belong here.” He stood and grabbed his shirt, swinging it on while moving as far across the cabin as possible. His back hit the door when she approached.

“I don’t understand.”

He caught and held her gaze, willed several lights to glow brighter. He searched her eyes, looking for her soul and found instead the one thing he hoped he wouldn’t—innocence. Curse words from three planets burned the air.

She must leave.

His heart hammered against the wall of his chest. Each breath came more rapidly, became less filling. Sweat sopped his brow in the cool room. Thunder filled his ears, and his vision narrowed to the woman standing before him, confusion and concern creasing her forehead. His large hands opened and closed, wanting to feel the skin where her neck met her shoulder, wanting to hear her breathe next to his ear. Wanting to absorb the smells of her womanly essence. His shaft filled with blood and demanded relief. Thank the gods, his shirt hung loose and covered the mammoth bulge between his legs.

Maybe she should see his condition. Then she would leave. Take his hope. A hope that sprang alive when she slipped into the room like a lover coming to her mate. No, he couldn’t do it. She would not understand, a woman without a man. Untested in the ways of sexual intimacy.

His emotions held tight, he stepped closer and took hold of her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here, lady. It’s not proper. I’m not some fresh-faced boy with harmless innocent desires. I might hurt you and not mean to.” Honesty worked best now.

His explanation cleared her confusion. The frown of worry left her face, and she smiled at him. She backed up a step. Gambrel let her go rather than bruise her.

“’Brel, this is the cabin my father and I were to share. This is where you are to stay. Don’t worry. The others know we are friends. You will not hurt me.” She held up her hand when he protested. “That man, Gastrojan, will not hurt you, and I will not allow you to harm him.”

Gambrel frowned in confusion.

  “Did you not sense me blocking your urge to hit the man?” She pouted. “Gastrojan wanted to fight. You would have stopped him, but someone else might have gotten hurt.” A small stool stood near. She sat and draped the clothes over her knees. “I am safe, and this is your home until we reach the new planet.”

“I can’t stay here. With you. It’s not right. We are not mated.” Others would not favor him for being here.

“That counts for nothing when we speak of me.” She flounced a bit, something he didn’t think her capable of. A totally feminine gesture. “I’m a Radiant, ‘Brel. My life differs from others. No one will say or do anything.”

“Speak it, no. Think it, they will. I can not ruin your reputation, lady.”

“Lady! Lady! Why do you insist on calling me such? We are friends, are we not? My name is Vangee. Call me so!” Her ire grew as her voice rose.

Surely Radiants were not subject to fits of temper. Yet her pale complexion wore a rosy hue of anger.

“My friends call me that though most never see my face clearly.” In a true huff, she left the stool and neared the opposite wall next to the built-in bed. Her bed, he realized. His was attached and much larger. Truly she did not expect him to lie with her.

A panel against the wall came away on a swinging hinge. Vangee lifted a metal bar at the side, and a shaft dropped into a shallow hole in the floor thus anchoring the wide panel at an angle. She stepped behind the board to change her clothes, leaving him to fight his imagination.

The tunic of her gray suit came to rest over the panel’s edge. Gambrel uncrossed his arms and rubbed his erection. The swelling filled his leather pants to the point of pain. If she were any other woman closed here with him, he’d undo the lacings and let himself fall into her waiting hands. His engorged shaft sought a hot, wet, and willing hole.

But this was Vangee, and he wasn’t about to subject her to his lust. He swept up his coat and stuffed the knife back down his boot. “I’m going to find somewhere else to sleep. Good night.” His traveling bag over his shoulder, a blanket tucked under his arm, he stomped to the door.

Before he opened it, her voice sighed across the room and captured his heart. “’Brel? Captain Merlo assigned each soul to a cabin so he would know where they were in case of an emergency. He will not abide someone stowing away in a corner on deck.” She glided out from behind the panel. The glows faded, leaving the room in darkness.

He saw only her silhouette. She stepped to the side of her bunk, sighed—a sound filled with a faint tremble of pain.

“I’m sorry you want to leave. I promise not to bother you. But there simply is no choice.”

The whisper of silk sliding to the floor caught his attention and tightened his throat as well as his shaft. In his imagination, she wore a whisper-thin gown. She pulled down the cover and slid under. Perhaps she left it over her hips or maybe at her feet. Perhaps she lay on her back, those large breasts peaked and hard. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

“The cabin is warm. I will cool it. Works like the lights. Think cooler, and it will be so.” Her drowsy voice created visions of lusty hot pounding sex.

Hot? Fick! His blood boiled.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered.

“Only for tonight. I will speak to Captain Merlo at morning rise.”

“As you wish.” One last sigh and he knew she slept. This day burdened her with a killer, deprived her of a father and her home. She earned her rest.

His teeth clamped together so hard his jaw ached. Would she turn and speak again? When she didn’t, he slowly removed his clothes. Normally he slept with nothing on but a cover. Not this night or any other while aboard the Fenix. He feared his dreams and any possible results might get him in trouble. Best to leave on his leathers.

When he lay down, Gambrel discovered the pillow held her smell. He propped his arms beneath his head and wished he still sucked Lubian smoke sticks. They always calmed his nerves.

If her life changed that day, so did his. Trapped on a ship with those who abided the rules and shunned any who took justice into their own hands. Trapped in a cabin with a woman he desired more than anyone. Even his departed wife.

Long ago, he wanted different things. Now he desired something he had never dreamed of. Unconditional love. He and Xantis never shared that kind of connection. They loved the idea of being in love. But they weren’t. Not really.

His tense jaw popped. Sleep seemed far away, tension too close.

“’Brel?”

Fick. Wasn’t she asleep?

“Yes…Vangee?” He used her name reluctantly.

“Don’t be mad.”

Ah, she tore out his heart. Her concern sounded real. “I’m not. I put you in a bad situation, and I’m not happy about it.”

“Everything will work out.” A pause then she settled. “G’night.” Her words slurred.

“Night.” His hesitation this time. Something had nagged at him almost from the start. Minor but bothering. “Vangee?” He whispered in case she slept again. Did she want to hear his silly question? Maybe she was asleep.

“Umm?”

Fick! No such luck.

“Why do you call me ‘Brel?”

She took forever to answer, and he hoped she drifted off finally. But no, she answered.

“Because.”

“What kind of answer is that?” For the first time, he forgot who and what she was and talked to her like an ordinary woman. One who gave him a nonsensical female answer. “No one else calls me that.”

“I’m glad I’m the only one. I like ‘Brel. It’s a strong name…like you.” She waited a moment longer before adding, “It makes me feel safe.”

This? From a woman who controlled the emotions of crowds? His name made her feel safe? Would he ever understand women? Especially this one?

No use beating his brain about things he could not comprehend nor change. For a while he lay with his eyes open, his mind drifting over the last years, weeks, and the past few days. What chance of fate left him sailing astral tides?

* * * *

He laid in bed in a sweat the next morning rise for a different reason. His bladder sloshed, and he needed to relieve himself. But where were the personal facilities? Finally, he could stand the fullness no longer.

“Vangee!” His hiss sounded like a snake’s. When she didn’t stir, he tried again. “Vangee!” The bed sheets rustled.

“Umm?” From the sounds, she woke slowly.

“Where’s the personal facility? I’m about to bust.” No sense in wasting words.

“What?” Her drowsy reply said she wasn’t fully awake yet.

“Personal facilities. Where?”

“Oh.” She turned to face him. He looked over his pillow and caught her early morning sleepy-eyed expression. “See those panels in the corner beyond the door? Pull the first one out then hook the slide in the hole in the floor.” The contraption worked like her dressing panel. “Pull the other one all the way out like a door. They fit together and form a room complete with everything you need.” Her jaw popped when she yawned.

“Thank you.” She remained on her side facing him. He gave her a glare and raised one eyebrow. No way would he get up while she watched. The huge bulge between his legs was too obvious. If he were after sex, the bulge would mean something else entirely. But just to piss. No way.

She finally caught on, giggled and turned over with an exaggerated flounce. He had known this woman less than two days. Had no one but her father ever seen her do that, heard her giggle? A Radiant she might be, but she was delicious female too.

Faster than grace permitted, he opened the panels and relieved his bladder.