A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

While Gambrel donned his new trousers and bonso-colored tunic the next morning, he saw a green dress slung over the dressing panel. The color matched his pants. Did Vangee select that particular dress on purpose?

He escorted her to the morning rise meal. Gastrojan sat with Effie. The thought of that sweet lady talking with someone he didn’t like soured his stomach. Vangee didn’t notice.

Dara scampered off her stool to give his leg a vigorous hug. He leaned over and gave her an affectionate pat then glanced at her plate. She hadn’t finished her meal so he took her back to her seat where she resumed eating without a fuss. He nodded to Effie but ignored Gastrojan.

Gambrel served on the forenoon watch. When eight bells rang at noon, he sauntered below decks for a meal. Almost everyone aboard ship must have been there. Too crowded for his taste, he took his plate and drink above deck where he sat on a cask and ate. Pharlie, Gastrojan’s less objectionable friend, approached while he ate.

“Good nooning, Sarjean.” He took a seat on a cask next to Gambrel. “You don’t eat with the others. Wise move, sire. You intimidate them.” Pharlie acted like a best friend, reassuring the other.

For his part, Gambrel ignored the man. Anything said would irritate him so he chose not to listen. The man lingered, and his words grew more exasperating.

“The women talked last eventide. You scare many. Were you aware of that?” Pharlie pulled one knee up and wrapped his hands around it, rocked back as if telling a story. “It would be best, don’t you think, to leave the ship when we make port. Your presence is not welcomed by many,” he counseled.

“Can you not see how they fear you?” Pharlie’s attempts to undermine Gambrel’s confidence might have worked on a man of less character. His ploy, however, backfired in an unexpected way.

Gambrel’s eyes lit up. Pharlie appeared confused at his reaction to the needling. All became clear when the sound of running feet sounded across the deck. Like a miniature phaser, Dara blasted her way into Gambrel’s arms. He caught and swung her on to his lap all in one easy move. Her giggles and cuddles plainly denied Pharlie’s words.

She stopped snuggling and looked at the smaller man. A frown marred her angelic expression. “Go!” Her stubby arm shot out. Obviously, she did not like the man. “Go!” she repeated. When he didn’t move, she gave Gambrel a dark look. Did she expect him to do something?

He couldn’t help it. A bubble of laugher welled up inside and burst full born into the morning. His deep belly laugh caught the attention of those on deck. They moved closer to enjoy the merriment.

When several adults and four or five youth stood around the trio, his laughs tapered off to chortles. Dara didn’t join his laughter because Pharlie still sat too close. She once more motioned him away.

In the midst of his chuckles, Vangee walked up. “What is so humorous this morning rise, sire?” She smiled at the girl as she stood with one hand on Gambrel’s broad shoulder.

“Dara is not fond of the company I keep.”

Pharlie flushed deep red at being the center of attention. Unwanted attention. “We will speak another time.” He slid off his cask and walked away. He barely avoided stomping.

After everyone left, two youths, Flustos and Herion, lingered to visit with Gambrel. They seemed fond of him, appeared comfortable in his presence. For no reason he could name, their trust pleased him.

While Dara played on his knee and Vangee visited Mirril and Bassik, his mind wandered to the “what ifs” of his life. What if Xantis had not died? What if that phaser blast had missed Lindan? What if he had never met Handid and his men? So many things might have been different.

The infinite number of stars scattered across the sky reminded him of the numerous choices he’d made in his lifetime. His latest one? Ridicule Pharlie. Perhaps it, like other decisions, seemed less than wise, but it pleased him to discomfort the other man. All paths led to this moment in time, here on this vessel, the child in his lap among those who called him friend.

Speaking of friends, the first such person aboard the Fenix, besides Vangee, was Pessios. The man himself strolled toward them at the moment Gambrel thought his name.

Dara clapped her hand and held up her arms when he stopped in front of them. Pessios swung her into the air just to hear her delightful laughter.

“I think I have lost my place in her heart.” Gambrel grinned as she hugged Pessios. His smile grew wider when the child almost flipped out of the Lizzardian’s arms and back on his lap. He accepted Dara and nodded to a nearby empty cask. “Sit. Pharlie won’t be needing his place.”

“Yes, him.” Pessios spoke as if something bitter hit his reptilian tongue. “Below just now, he complained to Gastrojan that you seemed immune to cruel jabs. Pleased he was not.” His dour and mocking expression gave way to a grin, and his eyes sparkled. “No one listened to his sorrowful tale.” Pessios’ hissing sounds represented reptilian laughter.

“Is it not a shame when one taunts and gets no pleasure for the effort?” Gambrel joined his friend’s mirth. Many years ago, he shared high spirits with friends, but the memory lay far away.

He was learning to laugh again.

* * * *

At Vangee’s suggestion, Gambrel cornered Pessios and his friend, Canfanto, one day after meal. She reminded him the two men had been free merchants on Ancade, meaning they traveled through the country selling, buying, and trading. If anyone knew of Handid, perhaps those two might.

Pessios recalled several men who came to Ancade in the time frame mentioned. None carried the name Handid, but he pointed out, if a man wanted to avoid detection, he might change.

Two of the men were mated. Gambrel wasn’t sure if that meant anything. After discussing the facts that Pessios and Canfanto knew, he left. He did not answer their questions regarding his interest in this man.

* * * *

“We have been remiss when looking for names in these logs.” Gambrel shuffled the vid-squares around on the table. “Likely Handid changed his name. He might have mated since I last saw him.” He picked up one square, turned it on, and scrolled to the passenger list. “I must go through these again with a more open mind.”

Vangee sat across from him, writing in an old-fashioned journal. “Why do you seek this man?”

He ignored the question.

But she did not let it rest. “Why, ‘Brel?”

“Better you are unaware of what I did and why I seek this man. My life before I met you would displease you.”

“I sense hate.” She seemed surprised. “Do you hate him so much?”

When he remained silent, she persisted. “You hate him. Your hate radiates outward like heat.” She rose and went around the table but did not touch Gambrel. For long moments she studied him. “Other emotions seethe beneath the surface, feelings you hide well from all but me.” Leaning against the table’s edge, she tilted her head to one side. “Despair, fear, grief, guilt, loneliness, shame.” She leaned forward. “Even more than hate, I sense resignation.”

He caught her honest gaze but confirmed nothing.

“Why the resignation? You are alive, well fed, sheltered. Friends care for you. I think years have passed since that happened.” When he said nothing, she touched him. “Tell me. Please.”

Gently pushing aside her hand, Gambrel walked the length of the cabin several times before stopping in front of her. “Do you know you uncover your head only when you are with me? You get that little line between your brows only when you worry about me.” He touched one long finger to a spot on her forehead.

In a sudden turn around, he left her and paced some more. He decided to answer her questions as best he could without revealing his deepest desires. “Resignation comes when one accepts what life has given. No regrets. No pity. No ‘what ifs’.” He stopped beside her, leaned his rear against the table, and tucked his hands into his pockets.

In his mind, he looked far back into the past. “I would change a few things in the past, but not many. I lived a hard life, and the gods of the universe led me here. If I cannot have what I most desire, I must be content. That’s the way life is.”

“But resignation means you do not fight for what you want. Take the risk to change the day-to-day way of life. You are a fighter.” Her voice rang with conviction and challenge. “Will you not fight now? Battle for what you want?” She now paced. “You want this man Handid. I know not why, but it is for no good, I think. But his finding will settle something in your heart. Your very soul burns.” She stopped in front of Gambrel and held her hands out, palms up. “And then what? You drift through meaningless twelve-months resigned to what the gods give? Is there nothing you want more than life itself?”

When he nodded, she took a firm stance in front of him and fisted her hands. “Then fight, Gambrel Sarjean! Fight!” Her face flushed with determination. Her passionate voice deepened, and her words slowed so their effect impacted his heart. “Fight for what you want!”

Their world stopped. The two stared at each other. Tension tight enough to coil a spring vibrated in the air. For the first time in his life, Gambrel let hope flare and settle into a steady, albeit small, flame. She wanted him to seek that which he desired. He desired Vangee for his mate. He was not worthy of her, but he would struggle to win her love. She would be the one to say nay to his hopes. But first she must be aware of them.

Go slowly. Go slowly.

He unfolded his long length from where he sat. He didn’t want to scare her, but he had to do this or die on the spot. He towered above her. One large hand skimmed the air between them, palm open. Gently his palm settled around the back of her head, pulled a tiny bit.

Caught in an invisible web, Vangee stepped forward, letting him guide her closer to his hard body. In slow motion, he lowered his head, stopped, and waited for her reaction. When her eyes grew wide and her breath hitched in her chest, he reasoned the time would never be better.

His lips touched hers, retreated. He kept his eyes open so he could see her. She blinked and licked her lips, tasted him there. One small hand moved up his chest until it rested over his pounding heart. With a sigh, she stood on her toes and reached for his next kiss.

Warm damp lips touched him and sent shivers down Gambrel’s spine. Tightened his stomach muscles. Heat consumed him. The air around them sizzled. Her scent filled his nostrils. He turned his head, and settled his mouth more comfortably on hers. Leaned in. Pressed harder. Did she know to open her lips? Did she know the pleasures to be had, tongue meeting tongue, in an erotic dance?

No, she must not have been aware. His tongue caressed the seam of her closed mouth. In sudden understanding, she opened for him. Rather than swoop in, he invaded slowly, inch by inch, until his tongue tickled hers. Her shudder told him she liked what he did.

The kiss stretched into eternity. On and on they touched, tasted, taunted, and treated. They shared breath, heat, and emotion. One hand on her head, all he allowed himself. But it was enough.

His fingers sank deeper in her purple locks, but he pulled her body no closer. He couldn’t stand the touch of her softness against his without stripping her. Without making love. If she wanted him to fight for his desire then this battle opened the war. His tiny spark of hope rose to staggering heights before settling into a steady blaze.

Gambrel burned. He thought she did too. They pulled apart. separating slowly, reluctantly. Time. Time favored them. He smiled uncertainly. How would she reaction when he no longer touched her? He breathed a sigh of relief when her smile answered his. She might not understand where he led, but she seemed willing to follow.

“Let’s look through these vid-squares,” Gambrel whispered. “We have lots of time.” If she realized he meant more than he said aloud, she didn’t indicate. But she willingly followed his suggestion. At this moment, all felt right in his world.

* * * *

Captain Merlo touched the screen resting on a pedestal in front of the helmsman. The large wheel held steady while the man checked the scanned images of the astral tides that flowed against the hull. “When the ancestors created the atmospheric burble, they also invented this device. It gives the tides a form that we can see. Like watching waves on this vid-square screen instead of along side the ship.”

Gambrel nodded. The concept made sense since there was nothing but empty space visible beyond the ship. The helmsman navigated through the images.

“In open space, can anything harm the fleet?” He still worried something might penetrate the atmosphere around the vessel.

“Yes, but not many things. Even pirates do not destroy the burble. They merely intimidate the passengers. If they can do that well enough, a captain will surrender. Most often pirates take the cargo and leave the ship alone.” Merlo frowned as he studied the current guide and another readout close by. “I can’t speak for the space we sail to, but pirates rarely entered the area where we once traded.” The captain walked around the helm to stand beside him.

“Of course there is the occasional rock shower. Those can be dangerous.”

“How so?” Gambrel wanted to know the worst in order to be prepared.

“They are often so large, we can not sail around them. We maneuver as best we can, but if we can’t miss a storm completely, we sail through as quickly as possible.” The ship’s bell clanged five times marking the middle of the first dog watch of eventide. Merlo pointed up to the mizzen royal sail. “During a rock shower, the crew hauls in and lashes sails. Everyone clears decks until we pass through the rain of burning rocks. The engineer charges the propulsion engines that we use to clear a planet’s atmosphere and hurls us forward, shortening our time in the chaos. If we depended on sail, we’d…” The captain’s words trailed off.

“No sails. Engines only. What happens if the atmospheric burble fails?” Gambrel didn’t want to hear the answer, but knowing the truth would ease his mind.

“If the burble fails, we remain below while the engineer attempts to restart the machines. Most often they start up again because thick shielding protects them. If, however, the engines cannot be started then it’s a matter of time—a short time—before the air below decks goes. As do the souls waiting there.” Merlo’s grim expression said he knew about such things.

With a nod, Gambrel swung down to the deck, deserted at this time of day. He made for his watch station. As he walked, he paid attention to the polished deck and neatly hauled ropes. The lack of clutter. The deck hands’ efficiency. Orders passed quietly from man to man though technology would speed the process. An occasional sail snapped crisply overhead. The air smelled… he couldn’t describe how it smelled. Not like sterile bottled atmosphere yet not like a ship’s normal salty tang he’d heard about.

All around, the odors, the sounds, the appearance soothed him. Much like the memories of home once did. Home. After countless seven-days spent aboard, this ship felt like home. Once again, an elusive sense of satisfaction washed over him.

Into his peaceful moment came Pessios. The lizard man’s tongue snapped in and out of his mouth in an agitated manner. Something bothered him. Gambrel sighed. So much for contentment. The feeling slipped sideways as his friend neared.

“Friend Gambrel. Walk with me as we talk.” Pessios glanced over his shoulder, seeking any who watched.

“What bothers you?”

“You seek a man? One who came to Ancade at least five years ago?” Pessios didn’t ask so much as confirm what he’d been told. “Canfanto and I talked about such a possibility. There are two men; one mated, the other not. Describe this man.”

Gambrel rubbed his bristled chin. “I have not seen Handid in years. He would rather not…speak to me.” He left the interpretation of his words to the imagination of the other man. “He’s tall, half between you and me.” He raised a hand to show the height. “His muscles are long and lean. His bulk is less than mine.” Gambrel patted forearms bulging with thick bundles of taunt muscle. “When last I saw him, his hair rode straight down his back, deathly pale. His eyes blaze a brilliant indigo blue, an unusual color among his kind. Most have light green eyes. He can change few things about himself but his name, I should think. What say you to a man like this?” He propped a foot against a keg and leaned forward.

“I’ve seen such a man. The mated one. That makes no significance either way, I suppose.”

Gambrel shook his head once.

“His name is Haggin, and he deals off world for unusual merchandise. I suspect him of selling bodies.”

A frown deepened the lines on Gambrel’s forehead.

Pessios explained. “Abducting men, women, and children then selling them off world is a profitable business. The taken one never sees his family again. This Haggin mated with a woman whose father owned an astral sailing ship. Ancade also has ships that sailed only the world’s watery tides. Canfanto and I often wondered if part of his cargo included women and young boys.” Again, that narrow red tongue flicked in and out.

“Sounds like something he would do. In the old times, he took what he wanted despite others’ complaints. He came and went with no boundaries. He ruled his men by intimidation. The more fear, the more power, the greater his success.” A sigh escaped Gambrel before he could contain it. So many years and so far to travel to find one man. “Does he sail with the fleet?”

“I’m sure of it. His mate’s family is counted among the original ancestors of Ancade. He owns a worthy ship. Escaping with the others serves his best interests. In this massive fleet, what would he fear?”

“Me.” Gambrel gave Pessios a hard stare. “He has me to fear until the day he dies by my hand.” For the first time, he told someone his intentions. Pessios would not share the information with anyone—like Vangee. Without so many words, the lizard man understood how he felt.

“Do you know the name of this Haggin’s mate?”

“Zorkin, I think.” Pessios strode at his side as he walked down the deck.

“Haggin and Zorkin. I will find their names on the vid-squares and learn what ship they sail on. Then I must plan.”

While Vangee searched for the name Handid, Gambrel scoured the records for Haggin and his mate, Zorkin. When he found them in the seventh section of the fleet, he made no outward show of good cheer. Rather he settled deep in his chair and pondered his next move.

*******

Once again, I hope to entertain you with Gambrel’s adventure. As for my latest novel, I suspect it will be out and available by the time I post the next chapter. How exciting is that!