by Gene Stiles
“And armament?” Cronus asked.
“She has three plasma cannons each on the port and starboard sides. There are plasma rifles mounted completely around her upper decks with plenty more available to the Aam.” Uthureous smiled, his chest bursting with pride. “She is beautiful and deadly, as you ordered, Lord Father.”
Cronus nodded in acknowledgement. “When will the vessel be completed?”
“She is completed now. She just requires a maiden voyage to test all of her controls and to familiarize the crew with her abilities. To shake out her kinks, if you will and she needs a captain and a name. These two things are left to the Lord Father. Do you have something in mind, sir?”
“I think it is silly to name a vessel,” Cronus chided. “Still, it seems a tradition on the docks.” He thought for long moments before continuing. “Black Death. Yes, that shall do nicely,” he nodded.
Uthureous looked taken aback, his face ashen. “Far be it from me to question the Lord Father,” he stammered nervously, “but the word ‘Death’ may make the crew uneasy.”
Iapetus struck like a viper, backhanding the man so hard that he flew off his feet and crashed into boxes piled on the dock. “Never question the Lord Father!” he commanded. “Never!”
Uthureous took long moments to recover, finally wiping blood from his torn lips. A deep purple bruise formed on his cheek. He rose on quivering legs and bowed humbly, “Thank you for correcting me, Iapetus. Please forgive me, Lord Father. Black Death, she shall be. Would you be so kind as to name a captain? I have a list from which you might choose if you wish.” His hand shook as he drew a paper from his vest and handed it to Iapetus.
Cronus did not give it a glance, just turned and walked away. “You have done well,” he threw over his shoulder with a curt wave.
Haleah ran, her muscular legs pounding out a distance eating rhythm on the black pavement. Her lungs were beginning to burn. Her booted feet sent shockwaves up her spine with each impact on the unyielding road. Still, she ran as if her life depended on it…, which it did, hers and all of her companions.
Haleah ached in every fiber of her body. Each breath filled her with flames of fire. Her arms flew in time with her legs, the muscles now feeling like solid steel. Cramps threatened to make her stumble and fall. She wanted nothing more than to stop to catch cool air in her chest, to lie down for the briefest of moments. Still, she ran.
Fear gripped her soul and twisted it in to knots. Next to her and passing swiftly, the Wind Star cut through the Gaia, too far away to see her cloaked form in the starlight. She knew only too well the Izon would soon be lost. Tears cut lines down her reddened cheeks. A shape emerged in the inky blackness before Haleah. She knew it was the Ocean Star and pushed her screaming legs.
“No! Wait!” Haleah saw the Ocean Star begin to pull away from the shore. With herculean effort, she dredged up the last of her dwindling strength, racing toward the ship. Her screams echoed against the canyon walls. She waved her arm furiously, doubting anyone could hear or see her in the night.
She was wrong.
Bosun Neely, was unreeving the ropes cut from the shore and curling them on the aft deck. Above the wind and roar of the Gaia, his sharp ears caught a sound that did not fit. An echo bounced off the rock on the port side. It sounded like a woman yelling, though he could make out no words. With hands cupped around his eyes to cut any other light, Neely peered into the darkness. Yes. Yes! Someone was sprinting toward the, waving furiously.
Neely grabbed his com and dialed the bridge. “Captain! Sir, a robed woman with light hair is racing along the port side. She is almost upon us!”
“Stop engines,” Captain Simoeis commanded. A light-haired woman? That could only be Haleah. The Captain stepped from the bridge, but not before ordering, “Stationary reverse! Slow to port.” Simoeis peered into the starry night, staring at the black boulevard. With a flood of relief, he was gratified to see Haleah’s blond mane bobbing along the road.
Grappling lines, tossed overboard, lodges against the rocky shoreline, mooring the Ocean Star. The ropes were drawn tight through the bulwarks and wrapped around sturdy cleats on the deck. When the ship was set, Captain Simoeis ordered the ramp lowered.
Haleah nearly passed out seeing the ramp lowered. Trembling legs gave out and she stumbled to her knees, hitting the black pavement with force enough to drive the last remaining air from her burning lungs. She caught herself on aching arms, heavy pants sucking in the cold night air. Long moments passed before strength returned to her tortured body. “Thank the Creator,” Haleah whispered softly.
Captain Simoeis reached down with rock-hard hands, helping Haleah to her feet. “Are you well?” Seeing her nod, he asked, “Where are the others?”
“A ways behind me,” she replied, having to look up to meet his eyes, “moving as swiftly as they can. Most are women and children.”
“How far behind? The Wind Star has long passed us. Shortly the Northern Star will leave port. We must be underway before then.”
Dropping her head, Haleah muttered, “I do not know. I ran as swiftly as I could to reach you. I am very fast.”
Captain Simoeis shook his head, his long, blond braid tossed over his shoulder. “This will not do. There is no time to wait. Come aboard. At least you will be safe.”
“No,” Haleah stood with her legs planted like anchors, her fists clenched and her jaw firm. “I will stay with all of my people, Izon and the People, alike. Go if you must. I will not leave a hundred people to die. Is there nothing else you can do?”
At eight-foot, two inches, the Captain towered above Haleah. He gazed down upon her determined stance and the tightness capped with sadness, of her beautiful face. He knew at a glance she would not leave for personal safety. She looked as immoveable as the tallest mountain. Simoeis admired her spirit. His brow creased, his blue eyes glittering in the starlight. After what seemed like hours but was only a minute or two, he answered the oak before him. “Come aboard,” he commanded.
“No,” was his reply.
“Please come aboard, Haleah,” he responded, his voice softened. “Please. I have a plan.”
Haleah waited, caging his honesty. “As you wish, Captain, but keep in mind I am a mighty swimmer.”
Captain Simoeis laughed aloud, smiling down upon her. He reached for her hand. “That I shall. Please follow me, My Lady. Time is wasting.”
Haleah returned his smile and took his hand.
“Captain, do you realize how dangerous this is in the dark?” Neilos protested. “The ship could run aground at the slightest miscalculation!”
“I do, First Mate,” the Captain said formally, setting Neilos in his place, “but we shall not do it in complete darkness. Turn on all the portside lights.”
“But,” Neilos began, snapping his mouth closed at the look on the Captain’s face. He simply turned to his com and gave the orders.
As they boarded, Captain Simoeis ordered all lines drawn in and the ramp raised. He hurried to the bridge, yelling out orders as he went.
Haleah was hot on his heels. Though not a ship person, she understood the risk inherent in what he was doing. “Thank you is not nearly enough, but thank you, Captain. Thank you so very much.”
“Do not thank me yet, Haleah,” Captain Simoeis grumbled. “We have not made it yet.” He turned to his First Mate. “Neilos, are we ready to get underway?”
“Yes, sir. On your command.”
The Captain nodded, his fingers gripping the silver levers. With great caution, Simoeis drew them backward. The Ocean Star fought against the raging current, slowly making sternway. He kept the ship as close to the shore as possible. Crewmen on the portside bulwarks called out distance, depth and hazards. They relayed the information to Neilos and the Captain made adjustments accordingly. Still, even with the port lights on, the maneuver was perilous.
“There!” a stern crewman shouted, pointing into the murky darkness.
Captain Simoeis slowing the Ocean Star to a
crawl. He brought the vessel as close to the shore as he could, feeling the hull scrap rocks below. He gave the order to toss hooks and turned to the First Mate. “You have the bridge. Maintain stationary position and, most of all, take care of my ship,” he said with a smile.
“As you command, Captain,” Neilos grinned back.
When the lights hit them, the Izon cheered and waved weary hands. They huddled closely, packed together against the gorge wall, children in the center, to keep warm in the cold, windy air. Their faces were happy, but drawn with exhaustion. It was plain to see, they could run no further.
Morpheus stood to the fore like a black, mighty oak; his cloak tied tightly together, his hood tossed back, midnight hair blowing wild around his face. Guel stood next to him, arms crossed over his heaving chest. The other Aam were standing guard around the Izon, weapons at the ready. When they saw Haleah and Captain Simoeis briskly walking down the ramp, they lowered their arms, but remained vigilant.
Haleah raced into the outstretched arms of Morpheus, luxuriating in the warmth of her body pulled so close against him. She raised her head and met his waiting lips. They embraced for scant seconds though, turning to the Captain. Making introductions, Haleah remained under the safety of the arm of her beloved.
“Captain Simoeis, this is Morpheus, leader of the Aam. This is Guel, of the Izon and the greatest of men. He led his people through great peril to be here.”
Guel responded in the guttural language of the Clan and outstretched his burly, hairy hand. The Captain locked forearms without the slightest hesitation. He only understood a few words and looked to Haleah.
“Guel said you are welcome among the Izon for as long as you live,” Haleah translated. Morpheus, the Captain risked his ship to come back for us. We owe him great debt.”
“Words cannot express my gratitude and that of the Izon and my men,” Morpheus responded with a low bow. How can we ever thank you?”
“By getting your people aboard and below decks as quickly as possible,” Captain Simoeis responded with a grim smile and extended his arm. The two men locked forearms in greeting. “We are way behind schedule and I fear the Northern Star will be upon us very soon.”
“It began as soon as you joined me,” Morpheus replied with a glance over the Captain’s shoulder.
Captain Simoeis turned to look behind him, noting half of the Izon were already aboard. “They move as silent as a murcat,” he said with a smile. “Let us see to the rest.” He spun sharply on his heal, heading for the Ocean Star, Morpheus, Haleah and Guel hot on his heels.
“Are the passengers all aboard, stowed away and secure?” The Captain took the helm, waiting for an answer before taking the Ocean Star out.
“Yes, Sir,” Neilos responded sharply. “The Izon and the families of the Aam are in lower storage amidships and all bunked down. The rest of the Aam have joined the crew to be of what service they may be. The ramp has been hauled aboard and all is at the ready.”
Captain Simoeis thanked his First Mate. “Away then,” he nodded, pulling away from the shore and slipping into the fast current of the Gaia. He powered the Ocean Star forward in hopes of catching up to the Wind Star. “Begin turning on all the lights, starting with the bowsprit and moving sternward.” Neilos responding immediately, sending orders through the com. “Now all is in the hands of the Creator,” he whispered.
The Northern Star left port on schedule, all cargo holds packed high and tightly secured. Captain Kaikinos slipped his ship into the dark waters of the Gaia with the ease of a well-practiced hand. For most, this would be a feat of immeasurable skill. The Northern Star, a hundred-fifty feet from stem to stern and forty feet from port to starboard, was the largest and oldest ship in the Star Fleet. She boasted three masts, the foremast, mainmast and mizzenmast, and a height from waterline to main deck of twenty-five feet. All sails unfurled covered an area of one-thousand-fifty square feet. Six miles of rope covered her riggings running through one-hundred-eighty blocks holding up the masts, but slow she was not. A single main engine salvaged from one of the ships of the People, converted to ocean jet, powered the vessel against the strongest currents of the river and the oceans beyond.
Captain Kaikinos parted his wide, full lips, his teeth stinging in the coolness of the night, even visible through his long, black, curly beard. How he loved his ship! Almost as much, he loved being on the water, feeling the shifting winds and currents. His eight-foot-two body was wide at the shoulders and only slightly thinner at the waist. His dark hands were like sledgehammers, calloused from years at sea. His legs, like masts on a ship, bolted him to the floor, steadying him in the heaviest seas. For long moments, he forgot the seriousness of his mission, lost in his happiness.
“Captain,” First Mate, Inopos, broke him out of his reverie, “Sorry to intrude, Sir.”
“It is alright, Inopos,” Captain Kaikinos sighed, returning reluctantly to the present. “What is happening?”
Inopos nodded curtly. “All hands remain at station awaiting your command. The ship is moving swiftly with the current and all is well,” he reported, waiting for further instructions.
“Please check on the crewmen and relieve those from their posts that are no longer needed. Everyone should eat and rest as much as possible. We do not know what may happen in the next hours, my friend,” the Captain responded. “Thank you.”
Every bit an Aam, Inopos snapped his heels together and turned briskly to complete his orders. A full head shorter than the Captain, he had to look up to meet the eyes of his superior. Curly red hair, banded by tanned leather, down to his barrel-like neck, was cut short around his face so his vision would not be obscured. Below a headband of the same, but tooled material, lay eyes the emerald of a calm, smooth sea. Behind those eyes lay a mind as sharp, quick and intelligent as any of his former Aam brothers. Inopos strode purposely from the quarterdeck to the forward deck, his long, powerful legs, eating up the distance. He spoke to each man, seeing how they were doing, sending as many to bunks or galley at their choice, as he could.
When Inopos finished his rounds, he took a moment to lean his broad, heavily muscled back against the bulwarks to port. Seeing the skies above, so copiously scattered with bright, shining stars always permeated his soul with awe. Crossing that vastness in a starship while he lay in dreamless slumber was beyond his comprehension. At the same time, the phenomenal sight above washed over him like the waters below, bringing him peace and allowing his creased and hardened features to concede to the slightest of smiles. With a weary sigh, Inopos broke the moment spinning on his heels and headed up to the bridge.
The Midnight Star left the harbor just an hour after the Northern Star, the last to leave. It was not unusual for so many vessels to leave port so close together. As more ships plied the waters, the river Gaia became full of maritime traffic. Standard procedure was for each ship to wait for the hour assigned by the Harbormaster, giving the previous vessel time to proceed down or upriver, safely away from the next.
The Midnight Star was the smallest of the four vessels involved in this daring endeavor, measuring only one hundred feet long with a thirty-foot beam. Designed to carry heavy cargo and equipment she usually ran to the settlements on either end of the river taking supplies and armament to the Aam stationed there. No one knew why Cronus was pushing to establish so many bases along the rugged coastlines around the continent of Atlantis nor why so quickly. The Midnight Star boasted three masts and a small, but powerful, engine that allowed her to carry heavy loads against the raging current of the Gaia. Off the river, she could fight the stormy seas that frequently plummeted the rocky western coasts like the giant sledgehammer of the Creator.
Captain Thalassa piloted her ship with deft, precise, experienced movements. Her hands, wide for a woman of the People, held her controls firmly, with confidence and control. Beautiful by any standard, her cloudless-sky blue eyes perfectly complimented her narrow, straight nose set above full, sensuous lips. Flowing blond hair, slightly tinged w
ith darker bands, hung down in a single, thick braid past a slim waist and perfect hips. A wide band of ruby leather, adorned with rich tooling, tied it away from her forehead, keeping it out of her vision.
Captain Thalassa did not command her crew due to her beauty or through any feminine wile. She commanded it through deep bonds of mutual respect. Be they male or female, of the People or of the Izon, she treated each equally and with dignity. In the face of the fiercest sea or any insubordination whatsoever of crew, she would brook no compromise, no insult to her command. She dealt with each matter as firmly and only to the level necessary to get results. The Captain had no fear of hard work and often labored side-by-side with her crew at any job that needed accomplished.
Against strenuous objections from her superiors, Captain Thalassa had appointed an Izon as her First Mate, citing the Clan’s exceptional knowledge of sailing and the seas. No matter what they had thrown at her, she stood as solid as the One Tree, brushing their concerns aside like an errant breeze.
Shuk, the Izon who had first suggested sails, stood silently beside her. His dark brown eyes peered from beneath his heavy brow ridge, watching each flicker of the screens before him, before shifting sides to wrap his massive hands around the spokes of the wheel controlling the rudder. He planted his stanchion-like legs and moved no more. Barely standing as tall as the Captain’s ample chest, his body seemed as thick as a foremast, his arms corded like the ropes that held it aloft. Despite being little more than an animal in the eyes of Cronus, his mind was as sharp as the edge of a skinning knife and missed nothing.
