Beneath the Eye of God (The Commodore Ardcasl Space Adventures Book 1) (27 page)

The Commodore was leaning against a log further up the beach enjoying the same scene. The children prepared a luncheon of fruit and seafood which he ordered brought to his log. "I've worked hard enough on this expedition," he declared. "I deserve at least one day off before the rigors of space flight."

The others joined him. Laral was amazed at the variety of fruit she had never seen before. They all sat quietly eating and watched the waves roll in from the wide blue horizon.

The Commodore raised a ripe melon in the air. "A toast, children, to clear skies, blue sea, warm sun, sweet fruit and dear friends. So many people on so many worlds will never know them. It is one of life's great sins not to enjoy a day like this whenever we chance upon it."

Leahn seemed distracted. "Speaking of other worlds," she said slowly, "I want to go with you."

Ohan was struck dumb.

"What?" cried Laral.

"I know you do, my dear," the Commodore said quietly. "I've seen it in your eyes for weeks."

Ohan felt the bottom falling out of his world. "Leahn, . . . you can't."

"Maybe not, sport. There may be rules against it. That's why I'm asking."

"Some worlds do have rules against their people leaving," the Commodore said. "But not this one and that's not why I'm turning you down." Ohan felt a great relief surge over him. "Our ship is a small one," the Commodore continued. "Mass and weight are carefully balanced against fuel and thrust. We simply cannot lift the extra weight and still get to where we're going next."

Ohan's joy was tempered by guilt when he saw Leahn's dejection.

"My brother and I have also watched Leahn's growing interest in the stars," Elor said. "It is unfortunate that our ship is so limited, for with her and her great sword as an added attraction, we might well triple our lecture fees on certain worlds."

The Commodore pulled out a melon seed that had fallen into his beard and studied it. "Shorten her tunic a bit and those little green lumpy guys on Pelman III would come unglued."

"And in the Anatarxes system?" Elor added.

"We'd have to keep her inside a barrier field."

Ohan's head was spinning. "Shorten her tunic? It's already too short. What are you talking about?"

The Commodore turned to Leahn. "I may have been a trifle hasty, my dear."

She laughed. "Did your ship just get bigger or was all that weight and thrust business a lie?"

"Elor!" Ohan cried. "How could you? I thought we were friends."

"We're sorry, Ohan. We know how you feel about Leahn. But we also know what she is feeling when she looks up into the night sky. She has a difficult decision to make. But it is one neither you nor the Commodore should be allowed to make for her."

"Now you see why I keep these fellows around," the Commodore said. "I make 99% correct decisions and they call me on the single bad one. Together we have a perfect score. The word 'lie' is harsh, my dear, but accurate. We can indeed, take you with us but the decision to go into space is not one that should be made casually." He settled back against the log. "I'm going to tell a story. Does anyone mind?"

No one objected. Even Ohan, his heart in his throat, could not turn away.

"There was once a race of people who lived on islands far out on a wide sea. These particular islands had beaches as white as the one we're sitting on and skies as blue as the one above us. Their sea was even larger than the one we sit beside. And these people were great sailors. They would take large canoes and sail off over the horizon beyond where man had ever been, in search of other islands. Some say the spirits in the sea and stars told them where to go and where to look—for they found every island, every single one.

"But to the people who stayed behind, the departure of the great canoes was a time of sadness for they knew they might never see their friends again. They might never know whether their children found new islands and prospered or were lost forever, for that sea was deep and its winds did not blow at the pleasure of voyagers. The songs of parting that these people wrote are among the saddest in the universe and are sung to this day in spaceports from one end of the galaxy to the other

"The voyage out to the stars can be a great and wondrous adventure. But the currents of time and space, blow only in one direction. Time carries us away far more inexorably than any wind on any sea. The lure of new worlds means leaving all you have ever known on this one, never to return. The journey back to the galactic plane will take us a few weeks. Were we to turn around and return here, little more than a month would have passed for us aboard the ship. But on landing, we would find that everyone we left behind had long since grown old and died. We would meet only your children and the children of your children.

"Some say those islands in the sea were as close to Paradise as man has ever come, yet he sailed off into the unknown then, just as we do today."

The Commodore raised his melon into the clear air. "From a day as perfect as this one, from friends as fine as these, man has ever sailed away."

***

Day faded to night and the Eye of God emerged to fill the sky, a little lower toward the sea than when last they saw it.

"Oh, my," was all Laral could say.

"I had forgotten we spent last night in the forest," the Commodore said. "Is it the first time you have seen it like this?"

"We see the tip of it sometimes at home and I've read about the impression it made on the early colonists. One of the reasons they moved into the highlands was to be away from the sight of it. Some of them grew sad to see how far away they'd come. I always wondered what the fuss was about. Now I see."

"And beside every point of light is a world or two," Leahn said, "waiting to be explored."

"That is the romantic view," the Commodore cautioned. "Most of those waiting worlds are nasty places, either too hot or too cold, locked in a mantle of methane or ammonia or perhaps in nothing at all—just a bare rock circling in space. They all lie long and tedious days apart and a lot of those that are inhabited do not consider themselves 'waiting to be explored' at all. Few places out there are as nice as this one right here."

"You don't want me to go?" Leahn asked.

"Not with unrealistic expectations that are sure to be crushed."

"I don't want you to go at all," Ohan said.

"Nor do I," Laral added. "Though I think you're going to anyway."

Leahn stood up. "Come on, sport. Let's go for a ride." He followed her to the corral the children had built under the trees. They brought out the horses each had ridden over so many miles.

"Don't forget we're leaving in a couple of hours," the Commodore called after them.

"We'll be back," Leahn shouted as she urged her horse into a gallop. Ohan's followed almost eagerly, as if on this smooth hardpacked sand at the edge of the sea in the cool evening air, he had finally found a place where running was worthwhile. As they raced down the beach, the animal's stride lengthened and his breathing became deep and regular. He snorted and shook his massive head, perhaps to reject in advance any suggestions Ohan might care to make. Ohan hung on, marveling again at how he was sometimes able to abandon himself to the great beast's own rhythm, as if he and the horse were one.

Leahn was just ahead, galloping at the edge of the farthest reach of the little waves before they paused and rolled back to the sea. Each impression of her horse's thundering hoofs forced the thin film of water from the sand leaving a dry spot, an endless row of circles cut in the retreating waves. The sea and night sparkled with light from the Eye of God. Leahn's hair streamed out behind her as she rode. The loveliness of the scene tore at Ohan's heart yet he dared not close his eyes for fear of missing an instant of it.

They had ridden somewhere between an instant and forever, when she reined to a halt and dismounted. Ohan brought his horse to a stop beside hers.

"Climb down, sport. We're going to say good-bye."

"If we don't say it, if I turn and ride away, will you stay?"

"Climb down," she said softly. She was unlacing her tunic.

He tried to grasp her hands but could not stop their movement. She slipped the tunic from her shoulders. It fell to the sand. She reached for his shirt. Her image danced before him, blurred by tears.

"You and my sister seem to be getting along. You're both interested in old junk."

"She reminds me a little of you."

"She's not me, sport. And I want you to remember that. Every time you're with some other woman and she holds you tight against her and she fills your whole heart and soul with love, I want there to be one place, one tiny spot down deep inside where, even then, you remember tonight—you remember me."

And there always was.

***

The aircar was packed and ready to go. Malie was trying not to cry. "I'll say I'm sorry about calling you a fat man if you'll say you never really meant to skin me."

He folded her into his arms. "But that wouldn't be a fair exchange, my sweet Malie. For I am a fat man and you know I never would have skinned you."

"We brought you a present so you would remember us," the child said, wiping her nose.

Alira stood solemnly behind her, an ancient forest empire book in her hands. "We know how much you wanted one," Malie sniffled.

The Commodore reverently held the thick book. "Oh, Malie, Malie, how you tempt me. A book from the ancient empire, rare on its own world, would be beyond price elsewhere." He handed it carefully back to Alira. "It's value would be so great that a number of my customers would happily murder me to obtain it.

"No, my sweet. The lads have recorded all your books. We will stop off at a planet of artisans we know of, on our way back into the galaxy. They will make a number of duplicates of your originals. These we will quietly sell as contraband at outrageous prices to several unscrupulous collectors we know. The rest we will donate to museums so that the collectors, when comparing the tiniest detail of their own copies with those in the finest museums, will find everything in agreement.

"You see the problem. A real one would be instantly branded a forgery simply by the weight of numbers. But the story of your gift will be retold a hundred times and our profit will increase each time I tell it. Perhaps someday this world and Ohan's people will rediscover their past. This is where the books belong, in your safekeeping."

He took out his tiny jeweled dagger. "Besides, my sweet, your gift is not enough. It is not rich enough by half for what I would have from you. Hold very still." He cut several long strands of hair from Malie's head and some more from Alira's. "Those same artisans also work in fine gold. You may have noticed that I wear no jewelry but I shall have them weave these stands of hair into a golden ring that I shall wear as a part of you forever with me."

Malie threw her arms around his neck. He held her tightly and whispered in her ear, "Rudyard Kipling is my gift to you. And when, years from now, you climb aboard fat old Ruddy and ride out beneath the stars, I want you to look up and remember that somewhere up there is another fat old man who will always love you."

He set the child down, closed the aircar door and they were gone.

***

The big stone house was ablaze with light. The sisters were stately in long dresses. They seated Ohan at the head of the table, Leahn on one side, Laral on the other. The Commodore was given the place at the other end. Harz, Erig and Feren were all invited. Scrubbed, combed and in new clothes, Ohan didn't recognize them at first. Em sat next to Silane and tried to smile once in a while.

The evening started slowly and Leahn was forced to declare, "Last time we sat here you were all being sad because of my return. Now I'm going away and you're still sad."

"We're just so sorry to see you go, darling," Silane said.

"Don't be. I could hang around here and become everybody's doddering old aunt, the one with the wild stories and the rusty sword. Or I can go off and become Leahn Among the Stars, a legend in my own time. I want to go and I want you all to be happy for me—happy that I got the chance to do what I wanted to do."

After that, the Commodore told some of his best stories and something approaching gaiety prevailed. The dinner was excellent and Silane insisted that Elor take the remains of the roast for supper their first night in space.

As they again prepared to board the aircar, Ohan and Leahn went off to one side for their last farewell. "I don't think I can bear it," Ohan said sadly.

"Sure you can, sport." Leahn hugged him. "Broken hearts get better. They don't go away but they do get better. I know. I had one once and nursed it with hate for three long years to make sure it wouldn't heal. Now, just when that one got better, I've given myself an new one."

She held him tight and kissed him, her mouth hard against his, her breath in him, her tongue caressing deep inside his mouth. Then she held him, gasping, away from her and smiled. "While you're growing old and gray down here with kids and grandkids running around the house and my sisters driving you crazy with their bitching—when it all gets too much for you, go outside and pick a point of light in the night sky. That will be me, sport, still young and beautiful, still on my way to great adventures, still thinking of you. In my memory you'll always be as you are now, as we were on the beach. You'll always be the one I loved."