Sailing The Astral Tides

By

Jane Carver

In the far future and across the universe, 1800-style ships sail the invisible tides of space. Aboard one ship hides a murderer. Aboard another, an avenger. Caught between two powerful men is one special woman—a Radiant, capable of controlling any man’s emotions.

EXCERPT

Sailing The Astral Tides

By

Jane Carver

 Chapter One

The radiant burst of killing energy momentarily blinded Gambrel Sarjean. When his vision cleared, he counted three dead bodies. With a glance beyond the alley to see if anyone noticed the fight, he holstered his twin Megaburst blasters and walked away.

Only one man was left to kill before he fulfilled his promise to Lindan Mulis. Would she approve of his actions over the last fifteen years? Probably not. The girl had held strange beliefs about right and wrong. But he would give her death meaning. Her life for his. Not a fair trade.

A slow scan of the street before a cautious step out of the alley. No sense in taking chances. Not now. Dry heat wiped away the sweat on his brow, but he pulled a wide scarf around his head like a hood. Gambrel ducked his head and strolled at a casual pace down the sidewalk. He wasn’t looking for trouble.

By listening to rumors and gossip and using old-fashioned blackmail, he spent years following Handid and his murderous gang across the galaxy. From one planet to another, he existed only to kill. Handid would be last. But the man stayed far out of reach though his men weren’t so lucky.

Rangel the Timid, his latest informant, reluctantly shared information. It was tell what he knew or lose a hand. Handid was scheduled to leave Ancade soon.

The world of Ancade knew its own share of trouble these days. Gambrel needed to find a ride off this hot rock. Little time remained. With its sun dying and pulling the smaller planet ever closer, a day fast approached when internal forces would tear it apart. Would the world explode on its own before the sun giant that sustained it for millenniums sucked it into the burning gases?

He ducked to enter a tavern door. At almost seven feet tall, he stood out in every crowd. Maybe he fell short of stature on Ambiax where the average man measured over nine feet. Here the men did well to reach six feet while the women were shorter still. Which meant, most of the females came only to his shoulder. Ancade boasted comely females, but none he’d seen interested him. In fact, few attracted him since Lindan’s death.

Not surprising, considering women meant trouble. Lindan’s death proved that. Mixing with the opposite sex wasn’t worth the effort. At times, however, his groin swelled from the mere sight of a woman’s creamy skin or the fragrance of her nearness. He always fought the surge of lust, replaced it with plans for revenge.

Thankful for the Universal language spoken here, he ordered a stout-looking brew then sat in shadows and watched who came and went. Handid wouldn’t seek him after Gambrel killed the last of his men, but someone else might be looking for him. Enemies from his past haunted him, in dreams if not reality. So, he remained vigilant.

“Here ye are, sire.” A fat man placed a glass of shimmering blue brew in front of Gambrel. He swallowed a deep drought of the liquid and repressed the hard shiver that sped down his spine. Damn, the shit hit his guts with the kick of a Dasaraian sandworm at full speed.

Using his hand to hide a cough, he shifted his gaze from the glass of fluid fire to the tavern man. “Rumor has it the whole place is leaving soon.” He wiped his mouth and took a smaller sip as the man beamed.

“Right, sire. We Ancadians set sail tomorrow at midmorning.” An idiotic smile spread across his round face.

“Will everyone leave?” The brew seemed easier to handle now. The smaller the sips, the less its bite.

“No, sorry to say. Those who choose to stay do so at their own peril. They gather the last of the crops, hides and materials that we cannot take aboard ship. The High Council estimates Ancade has as few as two weeks left. Anyone around in the next few days risks being pulled in by Grandmier’s gravitational force.”

“Let me get this straight.” Gambrel turned. The fact that he squinted at the blurred figure next to him didn’t bother him. “Everyone on this planet will board a flying ship with sails and no protection, like I’ve heard about, and take off into space?” He shook his head then decided that wasn’t a good idea.

“More or less.”

“But there’s no such thing as this kind of ship in space. Spaceships enclose passengers and create an atmosphere. But not open ships.” Gambrel sputtered, appalled at the idea of stepping on to an open deck surrounded with nothing to breathe. “Never work.”

“Has for centuries, sire. The Ancadians make their livings sailing the astral tides, selling and buying across the galaxy. When you came here, didn’t you come into the dock on the barge?” The man wiped a sweat ring from beneath Gambrel’s half empty glass.

“Sure I did, and it scared the piss out of me. No sides, nothing between unbreatheable space and me. Got off fast, too.”

“Then you missed seeing the docks at Mither Street. The last ships anchor there. A beautiful sight, if I say so. Ancadians pride themselves on their ships, home to our ancestors long before finding this place. The rest of the fleet is anchored above us in space.”

“Can I book passage on one of them?” Gambrel’s timing wasn’t good. He needed to leave. Not get stuck here with an uncertain departure time.

“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 Notwah, 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?

Gambrel 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 everlasting day. Nighttime 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 instead, 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, he 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 greeted 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 his 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’s 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 evidently 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.

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, 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, but 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 buttocks and back, she opened her arms wide again and began to chant. First one man then another darted in to grab her. Another man tried to shoot 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 will be 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 of them unveiling. Discretion told him to wait for the all-clear signal.

Two full minutes passed 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 kidnappers 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 and 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.

* * * *

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, over-sized 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 pale 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 carried no 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 sharing sex. Since he stood alone and naked, 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 rock.

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 dick and balls. Such an impressive set. Those hairy orbs could pass for a pair of rocks swinging between his legs. When aroused, his shaft strained the front of his hide trousers. Ladies loved to diddle with him and begged for his attention when he released that mighty pole from his pants.

He sank into the tub of steaming water and remembered a whore on Sawje. She took him down her throat to her gullet. No one he’d met since could do what she did that night. He feared he’d have to pull his pecker out of her mouth with his two hands. While her hands massaged his balls, her throat squeezed his rod. The thought alone made him hard. He wiggled his hips in an effort to get more comfortable.

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

Sailing The Astral Tides

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