A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

The sea’s briny smell washed over them. They made their way onto the pier. He caught a fleeting image of a huge ship anchored beside him. A dozen men and women rushed down a narrow plank.

“What happened?” Windrum’s friend, Jacon, took Darkin into his arms and laid the man on the pier. He examined the body then bowed his head. “Darkin Windrum lies dead, only minutes from sailing to a new home.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Jacon patted Vangee’s shoulder when she once again huddled over her father’s body. Gambrel had seen too much death over the years to spend much time in grieving, but he understood this might be one of the few times such loss touched the woman.

Jacon turned to him. “What happened?” He did not accuse Gambrel of anything, only asking for information.

“We were attacked…again. Five men jumped Vangee and me last night. One died.” He noted the look of surprise on Jacon’s face. Was killing for defense so foreign to these people?

“Vangee didn’t kill the man, did she?”

“No. I did. He waited in ambush after four others fled.” When Jacon relaxed, he continued. “Those four came back to get her this morning. My guess is they were going to dart her then kill me. I think they want her alive.”

“Yes, they would.” Jacon didn’t explain further.

“The first few darts missed us, but the last one got the old man.”

Vangee rose as several passengers carried her father’s body up the plank on to the ship. She moved to Jacon’s side but spoke to Gambrel. “He’s gone.” She wrung her hands back and forth. They appeared as troubled as her mind.

Within the hood of gray, a pale face glowed. Faint lines marred her cheeks where tears washed against the pristine white of her skin. Lips the color of bonso wood—a bare suggestion of brown—quivered as she turned to Jacon.

“We can’t delay the sailing to bury him on land. Besides, it’s not safe. They may still be looking for us.” She looked at Gambrel, included him in her concern. “My mother died here at the edge of the docks. Father will be happy to slip quietly beneath the waves of his own world and rest with her until the end comes.”

Such wise words. So hard to say.

Jacon nodded and left. He would arrange the burial. Vangee moved closer to Gambrel as if seeking security. Why? He knew her more than capable of protecting herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. He seemed like a worthy man.”

She nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Would you stand by my side when we bury Father? He liked you, and you were there when he died. You tried to save him.” While standing so close, Vangee held her head far back in order to see his face.

“If you think it appropriate. But we only met last eve. These knew him far longer. They might not appreciate a stranger being there for something so personal.” Did he want to hang around? The more time he stayed with her, the more he would miss her when the fleet sailed, and he stood on the dock alone.

For some reason, his soul clung to this woman. Why? He couldn’t say. He had yet to see her face so he knew it wasn’t a physical attraction. Her spirit and gentleness appealed to him. Not for the world would he hurt her by refusing her request. If being near helped Vangee through Windrum’s burial then he’d stay. If staying longer made leaving more difficult, that was his problem. She’d never know.

“Would you stay? It matters to me. That’s all that counts. And,” a ghost of a smile crossed her pale lips, “I think Father would have liked you there as well. Please?”

“Aye, lady. I’ll stand by you. Lead on.” He gestured toward the plank. Before they moved forward, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Yes?”

“Look up.”

Her command confused him. But he did as she requested.

The sheer size of the transport before him boggled his mind. Once long ago on Earth a similar ship sailed when he made his rounds as an enforcer. But that in no way resembled the majesty of this vessel. For one thing, it was beautiful even with the sails tied. Clouds shrouded the top of the main mast. Every inch of her polished wood gleamed. Metal fittings reflected the sun with blinding brilliance. A magnificent figurehead proudly sailing toward an unknown future graced the narrow bow. Tiny windows sparkled in the sunlight across the broad stern.

Gambrel’s imagination painted a picture of those sails unfurled and filled with… What? His musings stopped. Astral tides? What were astral tides?

“What think you, sire?” Her question cut into his puzzlement.

“I’ve never seen anything so remarkable.” His words pleased her. She would have questioned him further, but a hail from aboard beckoned them.

“Come, we must bid Father farewell.”

A bit of long forgotten chivalry arose. He held out his arm to her, a support if she needed one. With a nod, she accepted his help. Her hand resting lightly on his forearm, she led him up the plank.

* * * *

“Merlo, a word with you please?” Vangee called the ship’s captain to her side. The farewell for her father drained her energy, but what she would do next was important.

“How may I help you?” A tall slender man with a face full of wrinkles, the captain joined her, stood relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I wish to put a significant matter before you. When this fleet was proposed, the High Council decided only one hundred passengers, plus twenty crewmen, would sail aboard each vessel. Very practical, considering the time we would spend together and our need for room. One hundred and twenty souls. No more or less. That was written in the fleet’s charter.”

Captain Merlo nodded. All knew the importance of that particular number. Debates had flourished until everyone agreed.

“The Fenix now carries ninety-nine passengers. I ask that you consider taking Gambrel Sarjean as the last traveler for our voyage. Until last night, he was unaware of the critical time involved in leaving our world. My father would be the first to ask this if he were unable to come—as indeed he is.”

“Vangee, I understand your request. Space is available, true. But what do you know about this man? What about his past? Where he comes from? How does he make a living?”

“What does that matter? I met him last night when human animals tried to capture me. Both of us know what would have happened to me if taken. This man showed great courage and strength. I commanded, and he obeyed. He commanded, and I instinctively complied. I would not have done so if he were less than he is. I believe him to be a man worth saving. However, you have the last word.”

“Actually I believe you do. Your father owned the Fenix, and with his death, ownership passed to you.”

“To be honest, Captain, I forgot. But even then, I respect your position as commander of this vessel no matter who holds the claim. Will you consider Sarjean as the last passenger?”

Merlo walked to the railing and peered across the water of the harbor. When he returned, he gave his decision. “We will lose souls on this voyage. We both know this. Ill health, weariness, a desire to stay on a world other than the one we seek. Death. A strong hand and the will to survive will be welcomed. Sign him on the Fenix.” The hard press of her hand on his signaled Merlo’s reward. Those like Vangee Windrum did not express emotions like other beings. That one sign told him how much he pleased her.

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By Jane Carver

A weak knock tapped at Gambrel’s door the next morning. From deep slumber, he emerged awake, alert to danger. When he realized where he was, his racing heart slowed.

Again, the faint knocking. Someone requested entrance.

“A moment while I dress,” he called out. Least he offend, he dressed quickly. He opened the portal. An old man, the father from the previous night’s tavern visit, smiled, and extended his hand.

“You’re Gambrel.” The two clasped forearms in standard universal greeting. “I’m Darkin Windrum.” The man stepped into the room. The elder looked fragile, with white hair and slender build. His features sank into dark weathered skin. His back bent, he walked slowly as if ill. “I am a poor host. I can offer you no meal. My daughter and I will dine aboard our ship. This home is bare except for the few things we could not take with us on our voyage.” He held hands up and shrugged.

“Your daughter was kind enough to offer me a safe place to sleep last night, Windrum. More than I expected. A meal should be easy to come by.”

“Perhaps places are still open where you may eat. I hope so for your sake, sire.” Darkin led the way down the hall to the front door. Vangee waited wearing a soft gray cape this time. Again, her features lay concealed within the folds of the hood.

Gambrel bowed to her.

“My friend, did you rest well?”

A man could get used to waking up every morning to the sound of her voice. “Thank you, yes, lady.”

“I can offer no refreshments and no passage off Ancade, but would you walk with us to the docks and wish us safe voyage?” The twinkle in Darkin’s eyes made Gambrel smile. Poor host or not, the man drew him.

The three passed through the front portal. Darkin put the key into the lock and turned it. A shudder ran down his back, and he pressed his forehead against the heavy panel for a minute.

Gambrel stepped forward, worried something had happened to him. Vangee stopped him with one gray-gloved hand on his forearm. A slight shake of her head indicated they should wait.

As he watched, he sensed the elder hated going as much as his friend. The pain of leaving his home tore him apart. Eventually the man turned from the locked board and caught his glance.

“You think me a silly man perhaps. But I married and brought my wife to this house. My only child was born here. Friends and businessmen greeted me in this home. We lived simple. Enjoyed the product of our labors. Life has come full-circle. I began as a ship’s captain, sailing the astral tides. And I shall most likely die riding those same invisible waves.”

When Vangee protested his death, Darkin put a finger over her lips. “Hush, daughter. All things have a purpose, and my death will serve one someday.” The man’s eyes sparkled at her then Gambrel. “If nothing else, I will see your mother again.”

Darkin held out his hand and patted Gambrel’s arm. He raised it so the elder could lean on it while they walked to the dock. Vangee hooked her arm around her father’s elbow. Like boon companions, the three strolled away, chatting as if acquainted for decades.

Eerie silence lay heavy on the streets. Those who passed said not a word. Those staying hid inside. Many of the ships’ passengers must have boarded earlier for few walked abroad.

A hot breeze carried a piece of debris in its searing clutches. Buildings looked deserted already. Mid-summer heat amplified the fragrance of blooming flowers. Flyers—usually noisy in the early hours—sat strangely quiet as if aware a change was coming.

The trio neared the lower streets closer to the edge of the Badian Sea. Vangee and her father grew quiet. To be expected, Gambrel mused, when one’s life has been turned upside down.

Sympathy welled in him, and he started to speak, offer some consolation. But compassion was a dangerous emotion, a sign of tragedy. The words stuck in his throat. No insipid musings of his would make man or woman feel better. He had moved from planet to planet and town to town so often that he didn’t know the meaning of stability. After thinking about it, he didn’t know how to offer sympathy.

He listened to Windrum’s musings while trying to catch the daughter’s gaze. Almost in front of his eyes, a dart flew past and twanged into the soft side of the building. Gambrel hunkered over the old man and scanned the surrounding area. One hand already held a blaster at full stun power.

Nothing. He spotted no one. But that dart—probably a tranq—came from somewhere.

Vangee screamed when another dart caught in the folds of her cape. She crouched, as wary of the surroundings as him. One step forward, she straightened then threw out her hands. But the barrier that saved her the night before didn’t work fast enough. Darkin slid to the pavement as the shield formed around them.

“Windrum!” Gambrel went down on one knee and pulled the elder to rest on his propped leg. His blaster prepared to disintegrate anyone who rushed them.

“Father!” Vangee huddled over the man as she shook him. “’Brel, what’s wrong with him?” Her voice quivered in fear, choked on tears.

“Hold the barrier while I check.” One look only. The last dart stuck out of the man’s neck. A direct hit. But on the wrong person.

The ‘nappers wanted Vangee alive and him dead. The dart was for her, a young person healthy enough to withstand the effects. A blaster, knife, or sword awaited him. He pulled out the tranq dart and felt for a pulse. As he suspected. None. The elder lay dead in the arms of a stranger.

While Gambrel regretted the man’s passing, Vangee became emotional. She threw her body across her father’s and called softly for him to wake. All the while, she sobbed.

Her emotions roiled. Anger. Grief and pain. The web of her power tightened until Gambrel’s lungs gathered no air, and his heart pounded. He broke out in a cold sweat. His reaction to the death wasn’t profound. Yet he experienced hers. Her protective powers, enhanced by grief, trussed his body in a hold that grew tighter and tighter.

He shook the woman who slumped across his lap. Her sobs broke his heart. The sounds of her laughter lay fresh in his memory but were not powerful enough to counteract this feminine anguish. “We have to move. Get away from here.”

“But my father…”

“I’ll carry him. But we must leave now.” The tone of his voice, deep and rumbling, finally broke through her pain. She nodded then stood.

“Stay close. My power does not extend far from my center when I am in such condition.”

Rather than throw the body over his shoulder, Gambrel carried Darkin Windrum tenderly in his arms. They hurried through the last two blocks. The thought of causing her further heartache seemed unthinkable.

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By Jane Carver

Like other Ancadian homes, Vangee’s was beautiful. Once she closed the door behind them, a sense of serenity washed over Gambrel. Exotic-colored flowers in jewel-like vases gave off a delicate sweet fragrance. The lovely home was doomed like all the others he’d seen in the last two days. Was there no justice in the universe?

Vangee didn’t stop once they entered the dwelling. She continued down the open hallway, gauze hangings fluttering in the hot breezes. Nor did she remove her cape.

He still had no idea what she looked like. But he knew more than he did an hour ago. She fought well, thought clearly in a crisis, and spoke with soft words. The top of her head came not to the point of his shoulder.

Feeling like a barbarian among the civilized, he attempted no polite conversation. Did not try to see her face.

At the end of a hall, she pushed a door inward then stepped into a large bedroom. Across the room, outsized windows stood open. Incessant heat filtered through the night hours same as the daytime.

“I bid you rest here for tonight where you will be safe. Those who attacked us seek what they cannot have and might be bold enough to try again if we are outside. You, they would kill. I seem to be their target, but few would brave the defenses of my home. Sleep well.” She hesitated as if she wanted to add more. Finally, she turned to leave.

“Who were those men?”

“I have no idea, sire.”

“I am Gambrel Sarjean. And you are?” He knew her name but wanted to keep her there.

“I am Vangee Windrum.”

“Can I leave with the fleet tomorrow?” He stepped closer in an attempt to peer under the hood, but the light’s reflection off her eyes was the only thing he made out.

“I’m sorry. Strict rules govern how many may sail on each astral ship. Each is full to capacity. The ships merely wait for us to come aboard before sailing.”

She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. One companionable squeeze and she disappeared out the door, a faint click the only indication it closed.

Since he couldn’t explore the dwelling, he inspected the room. If necessary, he could drop from the windows to the blue grass below with no problem. Once he barred the heavy door, he shed his clothes. A smaller area to one side of the bedroom proved to be for bathing. He admired the mammoth tub. While steaming blue liquid filled the small lake of a facility, he shaved. Days had passed since his face was free of beard.

Mirrors in the room discomforted him only because he was alone. If a woman, someone like Vangee, were with him, they would be part of his enticing sensual foreplay before intimacy. Since he stood alone, the glistening glasses were useless. They reflected a tall man with abnormally broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscled thighs. His entire body looked square; no other description fit. The slight cleft in the bottom of his chin proved to be the only exception to that shape. His torso resembled a box, his shoulders making crisp right angles to thick arms and hands the size of small cruisers. Legs like columns supported his mass, the feet below resembled chunks of ‘crete.

At times, he appreciated his mass, in fights, when intimidating his enemies. Other times his huge dimension kept him from a decent hiding place. People turned from him in fear—size equaled aggression.

The only attributes he relished being so large were his privates. When aroused, his shaft strained the front of his hide trousers. Ladies loved to fondle him and begged for his attention.

He sank into the tub of steaming water and remembered women in other places. On other planets. One memory led to another. He thought of those he’d met and used. Sex came easily to him.

Now love… That was something else. Only two had ever held his heart. Xantis, his wife, long since dead. An accident. A lousy accident took the life of a gentle woman who only wanted to tend her home, love her husband, and watch children blossom around her skirts.

His thoughts came to Lindan. Nothing compared to what they had shared. Love like that never came twice.

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