A Story Begins Now

By Jane Carver

She found Gambrel and Jacon at the stern of the ship. Both men leaned against the rail. Jacon took a puff from his palp, used it to gesture with on occasion as the smoke drifted out to sea.

Gambrel heard her light steps approach. His time here was almost over. A shame, for he enjoyed talking to Jacon. Others had greeted him, made him welcome. His past had no bearing on this moment. What had gone before he wished as buried as Darkin Windrum, hidden beneath the deep waves.

“It’s time?” Jacon pulled away from the rail. Setting his palp between his teeth and sucking in a lungful of aromatic smoke, he clasped Gambrel’s arm in farewell. “I wish things were different…better. Take care.” For a second, the two men looked into each other’s eyes, read approval, then parted. Jacon moved past Vangee with no comment.

“You’ll be sailing soon.” Gambrel’s gaze wandered up to the sheets furled tightly against the wood. “I think I envy you.” He swept his hand wide to include the entire fleet. “Of all the worlds out there, I understand you are bound for one on the far side of the galaxy. A far journey to be sure.”

Not for the world did he ask to join this voyage. An ache settled under his breastbone and thrummed a bit. He observed the woman before him. More than anything, he craved the sight of her face. But when all others respected the shield she put up, who was he to request she remove it.

He asked for little in life. So wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t get what he wanted. Vangee fell into that “ask not, regret not” category.

“What if I said you could travel with us?” She walked away then turned. Her face lay in deep shadows.

“I asked the tavern keeper about signing on with the fleet, and he said the ships were full.” He tucked his fisted hands deeper into his coat pockets to hide his frustration. “I’ll be all right. Someone will need a strong back to help load those last few carriers. I can get a job doing that as payment for a ride out.” Of course, whatever he left on wouldn’t be near as nice as this ship. A yearning for something better filled him even as she came closer.

“When the Council set up this journey, they ruled only one-hundred-twenty people could sail on each vessel. Not one of our people has been left behind. This ship now carries one-hundred-nineteen passengers. With the captain’s blessings, I ask you to go with us as the last one.”

Did she joke? No one did anything nice for him. No one asked for something good on his behalf. That tightness hugging his chest remained but for a different reason now. Hope could rise so quickly and die just as fast. Of all things, he feared hope.

“What are you saying? I can come with you? Sail today? Aboard this ship?” He babbled, he knew, but the possibility. Oh, the possibility.

She laughed at him but only in joy at his incredulousness. “Yes, ‘Brel, come with us. Leave this place where men try to kill you. Be safe with us. With…”

Her voice trailed off, and he wondered if she wanted to say “with me.”

One hand pushed through his hair. The other floundered weakly in the air. Words escaped him. “I can truly come?” Like a child, he questioned his good fortune. When she nodded, he accepted what the gods gave him. “Thank you.” He slumped against the rail. “Thank you.” A wave of emotion so full of gratitude as to be indescribable rolled off him. As if she knew, Vangee laughed again.

“I am so pleased. So pleased.” Excitement filled her words. “We will begin a new adventure.”

Never in his life had he thought of what he did as an adventure. But if there was ever such a time, this was it. With renewed vigor and a faint glimmer of hope, he pulled away from the rail and bounded toward her. His unexpected move startled her. She stepped back. Gambrel immediately stopped, remembering his size often intimidated others.

“Do I have time to get my pack from the hostel? I can live without it, but it carries my extra clothes and a few personal things.”

“Tell me where this place is, and I’ll send someone. The less you are about, the safer you will be.”

“I can protect myself.” He appreciated her concern, but she had no idea how dangerous he was.

“I know you can, ‘Brel, but for my sake, would you let others go? I’ve lost one dear today. I don’t wish to lose another.” She held out her hand. The narrow palm and long fingers hovered near his chest without touching.

Did she consider him important in her world? Many years had past since anyone believed that. He thought of his wife, Xantis. She understood him, let him do what he needed to do in order for them to live. She welcomed him home each time with a loving embrace.

Vangee didn’t love him. But she seemed to respect him, value him as a friend. And she graciously offered him the last available space on this ship. For that, he would do anything for her.

“All right. This time we’ll do things your way.” He followed her forward. Three seamen left to get his belongings. Within the hour, they returned with a worn green bag.

“Follow me, and I’ll show you where to stow that.” She waved him aft of the ship. On the high deck, Captain Merlo stood with another man beside a large wheel. The captain directed final preparations.

Beneath the captain’s deck, beyond an open hatch, lay a narrow set of steps. Gambrel ducked his head and turned sideways to pass below deck. He followed Vangee around a corner. Down a short hall to a sturdy door. A tug on the latch and she stepped over the sill. Where did she lead him?

After the dimness in the hallway, the large room glowed with light coming through a row of windows. This cabin lay at the stern of the ship. He had admired these very windows from the pier. He dropped his bag with a solid thud and explored the room. Square containers lined the shelves. Thin bars held them secure. Across the room, a bed appeared to be built into the wall. Another narrower bed had been added nearby. A table stood near the windows, and, as he passed slowly, he saw the legs bolted to the floor. In fact, few things were moveable. Two chairs seemed to be the only thing that could be rearranged in the room. For a moment, he wondered how a ship might move so that all furniture need be anchored. A slight nauseous feeling filled his gullet.

From behind him Vangee cleared her throat.

“What? I’m sorry, I was admiring the room.” Gambrel gave her his full attention. “Where are you going?”

She stood at the door, one hand on the latch. “Captain Merlo will weigh anchor in the next few minutes. I want to be there when he does.”

Not knowing whether to stay below or not, Gambrel decided he would rather see what was happening than imagine it. His imagination always seemed more graphic than reality. Besides Vangee would be on deck. Reason enough to go above.

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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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