A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

Making his way back onto deck, he saw other passengers lined against the lower rail. Captain Merlo manned the upper deck beside a sailor at the large standing wheel. Nowhere did he see Vangee. Preparations for sailing advanced without comment. The captain gave an occasional command, spoken in a calm voice of authority. No frantic or wasted motions among the crew.

Above his head, the creamy sails let loose, flapped like a water flyer getting airborne then filled with hot breeze. A metallic grinding sound joined the sails’ noises. A huge anchor rose from the sea bed. Sailors secured lashings and hatches. The ship strained like a Glester horse ready to run.

His attention turned to those along the rail. The Acadian people were of a type. Pale skin with pastel hair worn long or braided. A deceptive air of fragility, making them appear weak. But he had observed Jacon and Darkin as well as those who worked this vessel and knew such manner hid strength of character. After all, the faint of heart did not give up their homes and set sail in these airless vessels.

At the thought, his chest tightened. Air. Where would he get air to breathe? A glance around. No one else seemed distressed. He tried to shake off the feeling. His world was changing forever. Nerves. Just nerves. He couldn’t remember being this nervous even when facing killers in overwhelming odds.

He moved further down the rail and cast another furtive glance around for Vangee. Where did the woman go?

Voices raised in delight caught his attention. Paralleling the ship, a flock of water flyers stretched their wings and raced the wind. Their long white wings rose and dipped in languid manner as if the thick hot air were perfect for flight.

He peered over the side of the rail. The ship’s hull sliced the water like a well-honed knife. Perfect folds of water fell away as impeccable waves. He heard the swish and popping sounds as wind filled the sails and pushed the Fenix forward.

Without warning, Gambrel felt the deck vibrate beneath his feet change. The faint tremor became more strident. Noises, like engines winding up for take-off, assaulted his ears. Faster and faster the vessel skimmed over the water. Higher the waves rose at the side. Vibrations, sounds, the peculiar smell of the Badian Sea.

Such sensations threatened to overwhelm him. An unknown future fast approached. He wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it.

Too late. Too bad.

As his tension spiraled higher so did the Fenix. Like a mighty sky flyer, the Fenix lifted from her watery home for the last time. Leveling out over the now still sea below, the ship seemed to wait for further orders.

Gambrel swallowed the bile clogging his throat. Air! He needed air. This ship would soon leave Ancadian atmosphere and enter the emptiness of space. Air! For a man who dreaded little, he feared death in this manner. Not a clean death from battle but a struggle to fill his lungs. A contest he would not win.

One step back then another, he moved farther from the rail. No longer did he want to watch this ship separate itself further from the haven of Ancade. His eyes darted side to side, not seeing, not looking for anything or anyone in particular. Rather viewing his soul and finding he wasn’t ready to die.

When his body smacked into a wall, panic increased. His breath shortened in anticipation of no air. His heart thumped so hard the vein in his temple hurt. One meaty hand wrapped around the rail leading to the captain’s deck. Calloused knuckles drained of their normal teak coloring.

“Gambrel?” Like a soft cool mist absorbing his heat and misery, Vangee’s voice held him prisoner. “You are afraid.”

Out came one gray-gloved hand from her voluminous cape. Her hood tilted up. Immediately his body calmed. Panic still gripped him but seemed more bearable. Began to fade. His heart beat hard, but his fear of sailing into space became tangled with a greater need for her touch.

When her hand rested on his chest, anxiety faded as if siphoned away. Her hand cushioned the powerful seizures of his heart and calmed the tightness in his body. His eyes closed, and he breathed deeply. Fisted hands straightened, relaxed. Wide shoulder muscles drooped. For the first time, he could breathe without fear it might be his last.

She did that for him—a virtual stranger.

“You feel better now.” Her head tipped to one side. She studied him. “You fear only because you do not know. Ask Jacon how this ship keeps us alive.”

So slowly he didn’t notice at first, she removed her hand. Peace and calm remained though he missed her warmth over his heart. He nodded, but kept his eyes shut.

Not of his own volition would he touch her. But he needed her now. Needed assurance she would not leave him when he feared the unknown.

“Vangee?” His voice sounded rusty. Never could he say what he desired. But his body, his tone, something about him, must have alerted her to his need. For a brief instance, her hand rested over his heart again. “Tell me this will work, lady.” How pathetic he sounded, like a child begging for security in the night’s darkness.

“’Brel, would I intentionally lead you into danger?”

He shook his head hard though he still stood back to wall, eyes shut tight.

“We sail together, headed for a new adventure, my friend. Danger waits but not from this ship. Here there is life and air. Will harm avoid you? That I can not promise. I can promise I will never harm you.”

He took a deep draught of air into his lungs and opened his eyes. How he wanted to see her face. Take her hand in his and hold it, let her essence permeate his calloused fingers. But his kind—killers, enforcers—didn’t associate with ladies as fine as Vangee Windrum. Why she bothered talking to him, he didn’t understand, but he thanked the universal gods for the favor.

“I’ll be all right now.” He pulled away from the wall and stood straight, his bulk casting a shadow over her. His slight bow said what he put not into words.

“Seek Jacon. Let him assure you.”

“Your presence assures me, lady.”

At his words, she paused, nodded once, then took the stairs to the upper deck.

The ship still sailed above the water’s surface. He didn’t walk near the rail again as he sought out Jacon. The man stood with his wife and daughter halfway down the deck. They laughed and pointed at the small creatures in the water Gambrel had no name for.

“Jacon?” He stopped behind him. “Vangee said you can tell me how this ship will keep us alive.” The red of embarrassment colored his rough cheeks.

“Certainly, my friend.” Jacon kissed his wife and tugged his daughter’s braid before joining him. “Let us move away from the others.”

Relief flooded Gambrel as rapidly as the blush. Perhaps Jacon sensed his discomfort.

“You’ve never sailed in space like this?” Jacon settled on a cask. He indicated a similar seat across from him. “Apprehension is not uncommon among those who first sail this kind of ship.”

From his vantage point, Gambrel noticed Vangee move forward to where the figurine of a woman rode the bowsprit. “How was it with you? The first time?” His curiosity took the edge off his concern. Merely looking at the back of Vangee’s long cape soothed him.

“I understood how the ship worked and knew I was safe. So, I enjoyed the trip. I must admit changing from surface to space disconcerted me. Knowing facts and experiencing them are two different things.” Jacon chuckled.

Gambrel nodded.

“When a ship is on water, the wind propels it along. The captain maneuvers the sails to catch the prevailing winds and uses them with the tides to get from one place to another. Understand?” Gambrel nodded again. “The same principal applies to sailing through space.”

“There is no air in space.”

“Ah, but there you are wrong, my friend.” Gambrel gasped. Jacon laughed. “I cannot explain it as well as the captain, but millennium ago our race sailed the waters of our home world—Earth. Ever heard of it?”

“Yes, all green and blue with more water than land. Far across the galaxy if I remember.” Gambrel had visited the planet once but recalled others speaking about it.

“That’s right. They discovered astral tides in space, like waves in the ocean or wind in the sky. These tides were not composed of air like we breathe, but did have force and direction and could be used to move vessels. The only problem remaining was to create an atmosphere for the ship. Over centuries, our greatest minds pondered, experimented, and progressed in creating a way of capturing air. Our history records the first journey of a fully functioning astral sailing ship, the Sacrifice.”

“Quite a name for a ship.” Gambrel settled back against the mast and crossed one ankle over his knee.

“Those who perfected the breathable atmosphere dedicated the ship to the crews who sailed on the experimental vessels and died for the project.”

“Oh.” Gambrel tried to imagine men willing to die for such a venture.

“Once a viable environment surrounded the ships, our race took to the stars. Others left before us, of course, in crafts made of solid metal with self-contained atmospheres. Imagine our vessels flying through space, seemingly wide open to the emptiness.” A far-away look came over Jacon’s gaze.

“What does this atmosphere look like? Can I see it?”

“Picture a large burrblin.” Jacon’s hands shaped a circle.

“A burrblin?” The language barrier inhibited Gambrel’s imagination.

“A circle filled with air.” Jacon pursed his lips and held his hands to them then blew.

“Oh, a bubble!”

“Burrblin. Bubble. By whatever name, do you understand what I described?”

“Yes. Are you saying this ship is surrounded by a bubble filled with air?” What an amazing thought. A simple man, Gambrel earned his living taking lives. This feat of creation impressed him.

“That’s exactly how it works.” Jacon spread his slender hands and smiled, pleased his friend understood the basic concept of astral atmosphere.

“But are we safe? What if something punctures the bubble?” Gambrel’s forehead wrinkled into deep lines.

“Small fragments of meteors can penetrate with no ill effect. However, if we drift into a large object, an explosion occurs, pirates attack us…”

“Pirates? They attack these ships? Why? How?”

“You must understand, Gambrel. The Ancadians sail from place to place, trading materials and good for things we want or need. Often valuable cargo fills the holes. Pirates attack in such a way as not to destroy the atmospheric shield. Then they pillage the ship. Sometimes they sell the crew as slaves on worlds where such is possible. Other times they kill everyone aboard. If a pirate damages the atmosphere mechanism, he destroys the ship and cargo and makes no profit. So, attacks are well planned and executed.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Do you hear that sound? The deep groaning?” Jacon rose and went to the rail. Gambrel followed reluctantly.

“Captain Merlo has powered the jets so we can break the gravitational pull of Ancadia. As the engines come on line, the atmosphere bubble as you call it surrounds the ship. By the time we enter space, you won’t realize you are in a burrblin.”

“You might think that, wouldn’t you?” Gambrel gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. His earlier anxiety returned but not on such a grand scale as before. Apprehension hardened his muscles.

The low roar grew louder. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Jacon yet felt alone in his dread. A soft body eased in next to him. Before he could say a word, Vangee put her hand on top of his where it lay on the rail. Peace flowed between them. His racing heart slowed, and the pounding at his temples subsided.

Neither looked at the other, both aware of the moment’s impact. She must leave all behind. He must trust the word of a man he only recently met. He wondered if he comforted Vangee as much as she did him. He quickly negated the thought. Why should she take consolation from him? Her life-long friends surrounded her. She knew and trusted them. He stood with her, but she knew no more about him than a day earlier. No, Vangee should take no particular ease from his presence.

Yet she remained, her small hand looking out of place atop his massive one. Diminutive she might appear, but her strength of character outweighed that. Her strength sustained them both as the ship’s bow pointed up, lifted from Ancade, and aimed for the stars.