A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

While Vangee made a point of ignoring him that morning rise, Dara did not. She seemed to be everywhere: at meal, on deck, and underfoot. When she tried to follow him up the rigging, Gambrel took her aside and reprimanded her for the first time.

Her eyes watered, her chin quivered, and a small feminine sniff of sorrow escaped. Her sadness distressed him but not enough to let the child endanger herself. Because Effie often told him she trusted her daughter’s life to his hands, he sought the mother out and deposited the child in her arms with a comment that Dara was becoming too independent. Effie scolded her about safety but did so in a gentle loving way.

Even the old sailor, Domas, disappointed him. The elder attempted to teach him new knots, but he could not focus long enough to get them correct. Pessios slapped him on the back and commiserated but even with one broken arm managed to tie the ropes well. While Domas scolded Gambrel’s fumbling fingers, Pessios laughed when he saw him watching Vangee.

“You watch her like a water flyer eyes his favorite fish. With hungry eyes, my friend. Problems?” Pessios’ question sounded innocent, but Gambrel knew he burned with curiosity.

“No problem. She is unhappy with me this full light, and I’m not sure…” For a moment, he forgot who sat beside him. Aware of the men’s intense gazes, a flush of hot blood burned his face.

Pessios clapped a slender hand on his shoulder to stay his retreat. “One of two things you might do, my friend. Wait her out until she loses the anger or explains it. Or declare yourself an ignorant male and ask what angers her.” A sympathetic squeeze then Pessios winked. “A dangerous path either way.”

“Thank you for that bit of wisdom.” Sarcasm coated Gambrel’s words. He couldn’t deny the choices he faced, but a large sigh escaped. A bad choice and a worse one, he judged. “Perhaps I will wait for her to speak.”

“A choice made then.” Domas handed him a length of rope. “Now, boy, concentrate.” The old man returned to the dogged task of teaching a new sailor old tricks.

* * * *

Gambrel read a vid-square when Vangee entered the cabin later. His decision to wait for her to speak did not sit well because she still ignored him. What had he said to anger her so? Nothing came to mind. So, he sat while she prepared for the night. This eventide, she did not join him at the table nor did she read her own vid-square. Instead, she climbed into her bed covers with no word to him. Not even a pleasant wishing for sleep. One more full light and another, he decided, his heart sore from her neglect.

* * * *

A loud thump somewhere in the middle of the night woke Gambrel. At first, he thought the sound something inside the ship. Always a light sleeper at the best of times, he slept poorly now. Vangee lay close yet not with him. After a minute of silence, he imagined the noise part of a dream. He almost fell back to sleep, but another thump shuddered along the side of the ship near the stern, close to the cabin.

Alarm drove slumber from his mind, but he could think of no explanation. He debated whether to rise when the bed covers across the room whispered. Vangee stirred.

“’Brel, did I hear something?”

About to suggest she shared his dream, someone knocked on the cabin door.

“What is the matter?” For an instant, she forgot her anger. Dark curls fell over her eyes as a small glow ignited.

A cover around his hips served to protect his visitor’s modesty since Gambrel knew not who waited outside the portal. With a finger to his lips, he signaled Vangee quiet and opened the door a crack.

“Pardon, sire, but Captain Merlo must speak with Mistress Windrum immediately.” Spoors, Merlo’s first mate, swayed nervously from foot to foot in the dark passageway.

“May I be of assistance as well?” Gambrel sensed Vangee behind him.

“Let the captain speak with the Radiant then he will call for you, if necessary, sire.”

The man delivered the message but was not at liberty to answer questions. Without moving from the doorway, he waited impatiently.

No time to dress properly at such a summons. Vangee gave him no glance.

“Come for me if there is a need, lady.”

She nodded before moving like a wraith down the dark silent corridor, clad only in night dress and robe.

When Gambrel closed the door, he tuned into the natural ship noises as he knew them. Something sounded wrong, but he wasn’t familiar with all the workings of the Fenix so made no guess what the problem might be.

For the first time in many moon times, he pulled out his leather tunic, trousers, and coat. While waiting for a likely summons to the captain’s quarters, he pondered a myriad of possibilities while eating.

The call came at last. Spoors appeared at the door once again, requesting he attend the captain and Mistress Windrum. Long strides ate up the distance, his worry so great.

“Sit and let me get you a clear-cut of wine.” Merlo indicated a chair at his large table next to Vangee. Behind him, the desk lay cluttered with maps. Several lay open on the table.

“Nothing for me, Captain. I ate not long ago. I suspect I will need a clear head this full-dark.”

“True about the head, but the problem needs something to help it along.” Merlo sat a clear-cut of dark ruby wine before Gambrel. The aroma of spices rose to fill the space around him. Vangee also held a clear-cut.

Worry sketched hard lines across her features. “The Fenix and several other ships ran afoul of another rock storm. It came and went so suddenly few were aware below decks.” She let the captain elaborate on the trouble.

“We lost a ship.” Merlo’s expression grew pensive. “I knew we would not finish this voyage with the fleet intact, but I hoped.” He walked the cabin and muttered, “I hoped.” He returned to the table. “Because the storm struck so suddenly and viciously, ships were unprepared. You remember how we took in the sails and cleared the decks? All hands and passengers sheltered before that first tempest became violent.”

Memories played through Gambrel’s mind. Crashing sounds when rocks hit the planks and sides of the vessel. The constant clamber stretched nerves unused to such things. No way to control what was happening. For a man used to dictating the terms in his life, he remembered the helplessness.

“Did the Fenix suffer damage, Captain?”

“Aye, sire, she did.”

Gambrel thought the ship invincible. At least he wanted her so. He did not want to think he sailed through open space with nothing around him save an invisible burrblin.

“What damage? Can it be repaired?” His gaze shifted to his lover. “How can she assist you?” Before either answered, he held up a hand. “Sorry. I forgot. A Radiant soothes those who hurt or are in shock. Were there injuries, sire?”

Vangee touched his arm, accepted his apology with that one contact. “Twelve ships sustained damage. Many were injured. A large flamer crashed through the side of the Fenix, in the engine room. Two crewmen are hurt.” Knowing his thoughts about the unseen protection around the ship, she whispered, “Though the Fenix still sails, we must find a planet that can repair the burrblin.”

Shock widened Gambrel’s eyes as he grasped her meaning. If the atmosphere around the ship failed, passengers would die. His throat closed as if the equipment already stopped supplying air. Pulse pounding, sweat gathered beneath his leather tunic and coated the inside of his leggings. Large hands gripped the table’s edge so hard that his fingers turned white. By massive effort did he pull himself together.

A faint glow at his side alerted him. Vangee sought to help. Though concerned with the ship’s fate, his spirit lightened. The same effect would spread beyond the captain’s cabin. Others needed the assurances of a Radiant.

Captain Merlo laid a map open on the table. “This is the sector in which we sail. You have travel extensively, sire. Do you know of any planet near our position that can accommodate a large number of ships?” He seemed calm yet determined to save his ships.

“I make a sorry statement to you, Captain. The thought of something happening to the Fenix or the fleet is hard to absorb.” Gambrel pulled the maps closer. “Let me see our position. Maybe I can help.”

Except for the occasional shuffling of charts, silence settled long in the cabin. Tension became a palatable object the longer he worked. After carefully examination, he pointed to a planet not too far away but not on the fleet’s designated course.

“Here. Ambiax. The people stand well above our heads, but they welcome strangers. I have ventured there several times while looking for an acquaintance.” He failed to mention he sought a murderer. Or that he had killed the man not long after.

“After I contact the Ambiax central port and gain permission to enter for repairs, I will signal the fleet. Do you know anyone on the planet?” A shake of the head told the captain he was on his own when talking to the Ambiaxans.

“Vangee, the damaged ships are in close proximity. If you will calm those aboard, I would appreciate it. I must contact the main port. I shall return soon. With good tidings, I hope.” Merlo left with a determined expression on his face.

Gambrel kept his eyes on the maps, but Vangee moved to the center of the room. “May I be of help?”

“Now you ask where before you told.” Her voice bit out the harsh sentence in low tones. She closed her eyes and spread her arms wide. Illumination brightened around her.

What did she mean, now you ask but before told? Confusion muddled his thoughts. Her words made no sense.

He turned in his chair to watch her. Optimism emanated through the cabin, reached far beyond the walls of their ship. His breathing calmed, his fingers relaxed, and tension eased from his body. Always when Vangee used her Radiant powers, a faint musky scent filled the air, not unpleasant, just uniquely hers.

As the glow from her radiance faded, Merlo returned to the cabin. “Good news, my friends. The main port, Cabrilla, will accept our fleet, help with repairs, and aid our wounded.”

“Good news indeed.” Vangee sat rather heavily, her strength tested but not found wanting.

“Captain, what ships anchor at Cabrilla?” Gambrel’s enemy Handid, or Haggin as he was now called, might dock. If so, he could finish the job he set out to do fifteen twelve-moons ago. Revenge for Lindan Mulis.

He would leave the fleet once he made the kill. No one would want a murderer sailing with them.

Regardless of what he called himself, enforcer, avenger, or hired gun, these kind folks would call him killer. Revenge lay too ingrained in his blood to back off now. Regret he must give up Vangee settled in his heart. She didn’t love him, but he loved her. Being near her soothed his soul. A deep sigh rattled the papers on the desk.

“I have the list here.” Merlo slid the paper across the table.

There it was…the Unseen. An unusual name for a ship, but then Haggin probably named it since he commissioned the vessel after he married the owner’s daughter. A slow lifting of lips created a tight smile of pleasure.

The door closed with a noticeable click. He looked around to find Vangee gone. “Where does she go?”

“On deck to survey the damage. Danger still abounds, and I tried to persuade her to wait until the rock shower passed. But,” Merlo lifted his shoulders in the universal shrug of a frustrated male, “a woman like her answers to few. She does what she thinks is right.”

Fearing for her safety, Gambrel hurried from the captain’s cabin. A screaming whistle neared, and he ducked as a single flamer flew over his shoulder headed straight for Vangee.

“Vangee!” Heart in throat, he ran across the deck. Not fast enough. The rock clipped her shoulder. She fell like a stone.

Terror choked him as he dropped to his knees beside her body. He gathered her into his arms, a sheen of tears watering his eyes. “Sweet one. Dearling, please wake. Hear me.” He smoothed her hair aside while he spoke nonsense, hoping she would hear and awake.

“Wake. I can’t breathe when you lie so still. I need you, Vangee.” His deepest desires poured from his soul. “Please, don’t leave me.”

A feminine groan of protest set his hulking heart hammering harder. “Are you well, my love?”

“Now you ask.” Vangee’s weak smile mirrored her still form lying in his arms.

“What does this mean, now I ask? You said that before, and your anger comes from those words, I think. But I do not understand, beloved.” No point pretending he cared any less than a true mate.

“’Brel, look at me.” A small hand cupped his face. “Remember the night we made love?” Her smile warmed him. “You said you loved me.”

In lieu of words, he gathered her close again and held her. Still afraid she might die.

“And then you told me I did not love you.” Her eyes drooped, and her smile faded. Unshed tears sparkled on her cheeks. “Never once did you ask if I loved you. You assumed not.” Her hand lay against his cheek. “How unfair of you, ‘Brel. Your superior male thoughts angered me.” She coughed. “Boratax? Boratax!” The name reverberated with ridicule. “I never loved him. Oh, I once thought I did.” She settled more comfortably in his embrace. “I never loved any man until I met you.”

His confused thoughts settled quickly on two points. She did not care for Boratax, the space explorer. And she implied she… loved him?

“Vangee, why were you so angry?” Her words would free his soul or send him to the depths of the underworld.

“You did not ask me if I loved you.” With a secret smile on her face, she snuggled close. “Ask me, ‘Brel. Ask.”

Afraid to do such a simple thing, his breath faltered. Fear like he had never known choked off his words. Breathe, he told his body. Breathe!

“Vangee?” Was the burrblin still working? Was he so air-depleted? Flaming rocks sporadically pelted the ship. He settled on his bottom on the deck, admired the sight of her hair where it flowed over the sleeve of his coat. His hug turned desperate as he tried again. “Vangee, do you, can you…love me?” He immediately closed his eyes and held his breath. Time marched like an old man moving through a thick bog, slow and heavy. When no answer came, he cautiously opened one eye.

Vangee lay relaxed in his arms, as if after a thorough loving. Sheer pleasure and delight flushed her features, and she glowed like she did the last time they made love.

“Open your eyes, hulking one.” The easy reminder of what she once called him brought a smile to his stiffened lips so he opened both. She caught his gaze and held it with her sparkling yellow slits. “I will not declare my love to one who will not look at me. He must know how sincere I am. I want my love to see the emotions: care, worship, adoration, and devotion. Love. I carry these in my heart. I pledge to share them with you, Gambrel Sarjean, if you will be my mate.”

Despair became hope. Gambrel awoke from his fear of her death to a new existence. Her love made him a new man. No more would he walk alone through this plane. What went before set the stage for completeness.

His head buried in her hair, he rocked her. They shared loving words, feelings and hopes, clearing up concerns and misunderstandings on the deck of a damaged ship in the middle of a fading rock attack. Nothing in space or time was as important as the treasure he held tucked close to his body. Nothing would ever be that important.