A Story Begins Now

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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by Jane Carver

As he rounded the corner, he spied Vangee in her pale green cape, but his blood ran cold at the sight of five men around her. They wanted her alive but hadn’t touched her yet. She twisted from side to side, watching the men, her arms outstretched, the cloak held open wide.

One man dashed in to grab her, but she sidestepped before moving aside effortlessly. Despite her apparent ease, Gambrel feared for her safety. Outrage filled his heart. Fury boiled in his blood, and a desire to protect her called him to action.

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he grabbed each blaster out of its holster then ran, his maniac scream taking the five by surprise. From out of nowhere, blasters, phasers, and old-fashioned swords appeared. One swarthy character held a wicked looking knife between his teeth. Perhaps a headlong charge wasn’t a wise thing after all.

Vangee must have figured the man rushing to save her would die as soon as the surprise wore off. Grabbing him by the arm, she put her insubstantial weight behind her heels and dug in. He fell back, and she used his momentum to swing him behind her.

“Put your hands on my shoulders and move in tight, hulking one. We can outwit these in no time. But no one dies here tonight.”

Her hood turned toward him, he saw nothing of her face buried deep in the folds. As if some force took over his body, he did as the woman ordered. By all he held sacred, he fought the idea of hiding behind the safety of a woman. Yet behind her, he went.

Even as his stomach and chest pressed tightly to her backside, she opened her arms wide again and began to chant. First one man then another darted in to grab her. Another man tried to shot Gambrel. But nothing seemed to penetrate the invisible barrier around them.

“Stay close, big one. I can only protect so much, and you take up a lot of space.” Her words came low, sounded a bit humorous. The humor, however, got lost in the combination of men trying to kill them and some power beyond his knowledge working to save them.

The gang withdrew to the other side of the street and debated loudly how to execute the man and take the woman without harming her. When their attention wavered, Vangee made her move.

“Run for the alley back a block, massive one. We can evade them there.” She swirled her cape around him and left him standing alone, no barrier to protect him. Gambrel had no choice but to follow.

His loping gait easily caught up with her. “Dead-end, woman. How’s that going to help us?” He breathed without difficulty while she gasped for air. For every one of his steps, she took five.

“Have faith. We will disappear in plain sight.”

“Uh-huh.” His sarcastic agreement didn’t slow the woman.

She barreled around the corner into the only darkness available for blocks. High buildings created a cave-like atmosphere.

“Put your back to this wall, and stay still. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe if you can help it.” Vangee took hold of his waist and pressed him against the side of the building then grabbed his hand. “I will blur our images. The men will only see walls and stone. The longer they stay, the harder it is to hold us invisible, so we do not want to alert them to our presence. Still!” With that, she closed her eyes.

Could she do what she said? He turned his head toward her as the attackers neared the alley’s entrance.

If it were possible, he would have laughed. The five hesitated to enter the dark narrow space between the buildings separately. With pokes and prods, they moved forward together one cautious step at a time, looking behind barrels and crates. One man passed within a foot without seeing them.

He would have breathed a sigh of relief when the men backed out of the alley, but he feared they might return and catch the pair unveiling. Discretion told him to wait for her all-clear signal.

Two full minutes past before Vangee appeared out of thin air. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized she had truly been invisible. Whatever or whoever she was, she made a good companion in a tight spot.

A finger to her lips indicated a need for silence. They crept to the front of the alley. The nearer the two came to the entrance, the more the back of Gambrel’s neck itched. Things weren’t what they seemed.

He jerked Vangee behind him and grabbed a knife from his boot. The largest of the five would-be ‘nappers attacked. Smaller than his intended target, the man never stood a chance. Gambrel whirled him up against his chest and slit his throat with quiet dispatch. Blood splatter shot out.

He shoved the dead man aside, grabbed Vangee’s hand, and hastened her out on to the sidewalk.

“Which way to your home?” Gambrel scrutinized the street or closest alleys.

“Two blocks further then another three to the right.”

They ran flat out, seeing few, avoiding all. By the time they arrived at her home, both were out of breath.

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By Jane Carver

“Sorry, they’re full. Commercial ships and space carriers still take passengers, but their leave times are a bit chancy, if you know what I mean.”

Those last few spacers would leave as late as possible in order to fill their cargo holes before hauling ass. Damn, he’d planned on getting a good day’s rest before beginning his search for Handid. Now his plans called for a more immediate departure.

According to information he squeezed out of that vermin on Botwax, Handid had lived on this planet at least five years. So he would have an escape plan. Would he go with the fleet tomorrow or stay and scrounge the last of the planet’s treasures?

He turned back to his drink and asked nothing further. With no one left to talk to, the fat man ambled away. Hunched shoulders and hands wrapped tightly about his mug, Gambrel sought a solution to his problem. In a foul mood, he cocked an eye at the window where strong sunlight filtered through the dark curtains. Damn, this sun and its ever-lasting day. Night time and no darkness to give ease.

A sense of hopelessness crept into his soul. Happier times seemed long ago. Before Handid and his men set the trap to kill him and wound up killing Lindan, he remembered laughter and smiles. Girlish giggles still rang faintly in his memory. Those memories had faded over the years until he sat with a glass of brew that blurred his mind, and no one to call friend. No one to take him off this God-forsaken planet. A mission lay upon him, but a looming sense of futility threatened to overwhelm him. For a minute, Gambrel wondered if the drink caused this despair or if he had reached a turning point in his life.

“Father?” A low feminine voice at his back caught his attention, diverting his maudlin thoughts to something more pleasant. “I thought perhaps you would be here with Jacon.”

Two men greet the woman. Both received a kiss. Gambrel heard the soft smacking of lips against skin. Such a pleasant feminine greeting awakened his manhood before he realized it. He sat hard as a rock with no way to dampen the desire. To be honest, at that point, he welcomed the conversation. The gentle voice took his mind off his own problems.

“Will you come home soon, Father?”

Something soft swished against Gambrel’s arm. He tucked his head low and looked around his broad shoulder. Two men sat across from each other at a wide table. The woman sat with her back to him. The sweep of her cloak had touched him. A hood hid her face, but his imagination filled in a form to match her soothing speech.

Curiosity raised its head for the first time in years. What did the woman look like? Why did she seek her father so late? Was she alone? Did a man wait for her at home? All these questions a friend asked, but he called no man—or woman for that matter—friend. As he listened to their quiet words, his curiosity reflected memories of happier times and concern for the future.

His dim-looking future.

Of course, he could not join the trio and satisfy his interest. But the love and homey sentiment radiated around him nevertheless. He sipped his tepid brew and eavesdropped without shame.

“Jacon, are Mirril and Bassik prepared to leave? I can hardly wait to board. I almost wish we were sleeping on the ship tonight. But Father wishes one last night at home.” Such friendly words, spoken with a smile.

“Yes, Vangee, they are ready but not happy. This is the only place we’ve known. Only the force of the gods makes us leave. The scout, Boratax, said the flight would last a year at least. I know we’ll stop along the way for supplies, but that’s a long time to be aboard ship.” Jacon sighed.

“Did you see Boratax before he left?” The excitement in her voice dwindled to pity. “I waited at the house to wish him good voyage, but we missed each other.”

Surely this woman—Vangee—wasn’t so lacking in charm or beauty that a healthy man would avoid her company. Other beings besides humankind resided on this planet. Maybe being another breed, this Boratax didn’t respond to feminine wiles like a human would.

“Many demanded Boratax’ attention the day he left. Perhaps, daughter, you make more of his friendship than is there?” Was Vangee’s father trying to say Boratax didn’t experience the caring emotions she apparently did?

Light laughter seemed to touch the back of Gambrel’s neck and slither down his spine, leaving him wanting. He wanted this woman.

“Enough. I am for home if you abide here with Jacon longer.” She rose. “Good night, sire. Jacon.”

Sneaking another look, Gambrel saw the long cape float around a body of indeterminate size. He sighed and threw back his head to down the mug’s last few drops. When he stood, he scanned the room as usual. The father, his friend, and the man at the tap were the only ones in the tavern. The keeper at the bar raised an eyebrow, a signal asking if he wanted another drink, but he shook his head and waved goodnight.

No nighttime coolness relieved the day’s heat as he stepped outside. The only dark places lay in deep alleys such as the one he left earlier. Again, he pulled the scarf high, this time using it as a shade against the scorching brightness. His calf-length hide coat disguised his armament but trapped body heat and soaked up more. Uncomfortable in the perpetual daylight, he turned right.

He understood now why the hostel owner allowed him only one night’s stay. The man and his family planned to sail with the fleet the next morning. That didn’t mean Gambrel had to leave the planet; it meant the owner preferred everyone out before he locked the door forever.

The late hour and plans for the morrow kept all in bed. No one wandered the street. In the eerie silence, he heard footsteps not far ahead. What if? What if it was the woman? Mayhap he might walk with her. He hastened to catch up.

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