Captain Gareth's Mates (10 page)

“Your faith in me is certainly flattering, Grand Potentate, yet I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that I have commitments elsewhere.”

The old man lifted a gnarled hand and waved it dismissively. “I am not ready to die just yet, nor am I asking you to abandon your ship and crew. However, no adventure can last forever. Perhaps it is time to use your strengths in a different way.”

“I promise to consider it, my lord.”

“Then, for the moment, I will ask nothing more of you. I accept your word that you will give my proposal the serious thought it deserves.”

“Thank you, and now I shall ask one favor of you as well. I must return to my duties before the sun sets tomorrow. Will you look after my wife while I am away? Treat her with the same honor I would?”

Zimeon nodded. “I understand that she is no longer my dependent child but a woman with a home and responsibilities of her own. She will take the honored place of a married princess in my court, even if her lord is not present to govern her. You, too, have my word.”

“Thank you.” Gareth gave a respectful half bow. The lack of equality for women in this culture still rankled him, but he accepted that change would come slowly, if at all.

“Then again, I had begun to hope that you might take her with you,” Zimeon added.

Gareth’s brows rose. “A border patrol ship is small, cramped. It can also be a dangerous place under certain conditions.”

“As you wish. A woman’s place is beside her husband, adversity notwithstanding, but it is of course your decision.”

Gareth gave another bow. “Again, I thank you for your kindness, my lord.”

On his way out of the grand potentate’s chamber, he wondered if the old man would be so eager to send Izbal off with him, much less install him as the next king, if he knew exactly what sort of pleasures he had introduced his favorite daughter to.

Then again, in Zimeon’s view, Izbal was Gareth’s property, to do with as he liked. Not once had he inquired after his daughter’s happiness or satisfaction with her new station in life. Apparently, as far as the grand potentate was concerned, such trivial details as a woman’s emotions didn’t matter.

Luckily for Izbal, they mattered to Gareth.

* * * *

That evening, Gareth and Brennar lay on adjoining tables in the grand potentate’s private spa, having their bodies oiled and rubbed down by the same matron who had prepared Gareth for his wedding night. She made no secret of her fascination with Brennar’s blue-tinted skin as she briskly rubbed his shoulders and then returned to Gareth’s. The scented oils she used felt wonderful after so many days in the harsh sun with little or no clothing on, and Gareth could see that Brennar also enjoyed the massage.

“Your wedding week tired you out, did it?” the woman asked, skimming her palm over his naked rear end.

“Yes.” Gareth fought his embarrassment as her fingers dug deep into the tired muscles of his buttocks and then stroked up his back. When she finished with him, she moved back to Brennar.

“The grand potentate’s daughter is a spicy dish, I take it?” she asked while she kneaded Brennar’s shoulders.

“Very much so,” Gareth admitted.

“I suspected so. The quiet ones are often filled with fire. I’ve known her since she was a girl, of course. I could see it even then. She has a streak of her father in her, that’s for certain.”

“I noticed that, as well,” Brennar agreed.

“The two of you are good together. Everyone says so. You have done very well in your choice of a wife, Captain Gareth. And you are also fortunate to have such a loyal friend at your side.” Playfully she patted Brennar’s backside.

Gareth glanced over and smiled at Brennar’s mortification. “I completely agree...on both counts.”

“I am gratified to hear you say that, my lord.” The hand that returned to Gareth’s back to smooth on a fresh dollop of oil felt different...smoother, lighter. And more familiar.

Gareth rolled over to find that Izbal had taken the place of the older woman, who had apparently withdrawn to give them some privacy. Standing with one hand on his shoulders and one on Brennar’s, she smiled down at both of them.

“How long have you been here?” Gareth asked.

“A while. Aarisa let me hide in the back room until you were ready for me. So I am a spicy dish, am I?”

“One I never get tired of tasting.” Gareth sat up on the table and pulled her between his bare legs. Half-turning, Izbal held out her hand to Brennar. The three of them clung together in silence, none wanting to acknowledge that this was likely to be their final night together.

At least for a while.

But, Gareth decided, their separation wouldn’t last forever. He’d find a way to ensure that.

* * * *

The next morning, Gareth stood beside his packed bags and straightened the front of his uniform. It hung looser on him than when he’d first arrived. A diet of leaves, berries, and fruit had melted a few excess pounds off his trim frame. Lieutenant Erril would tease him about that, he expected, making jokes about an athletic honeymoon without suspecting how close she was to the truth.

Back in his own room across the hall, Brennar would also be getting ready to take his leave. He would remain aboard the
Wayfarer
for a week or so, until they reached the nearest space station. From there, he would embark either to his own world or his next diplomatic adventure.

Izbal entered the room.

“It’s time?” she asked quietly, eyeing his luggage.

“Soon.”

“You look very handsome.” She touched his uniform tunic, smoothing the sleek, red piping that decorated the front. “I wish I could come with you.”

“I know. But life on a border patrol vessel would never suit a princess. It takes even an experienced crewman years to adjust.”

“I suspect missing you will cause me far greater pain.”

“I know.” The concept of missing someone was foreign to Gareth. In the past, he’d indulged himself, pleasured others, even loved...for awhile. When the time came to move on, he’d cut ties without pain.

This time would be different. He knew that already.

“You could live in comfort here, yet you choose to return to much rougher conditions,” Izbal mused. “I suppose you love the adventure that comes with your duties on the ship.”

“Yes. Or at least I thought I did.”

“Adventures exist here, too, you know, though on a smaller scale. Building the community, attracting and welcoming new settlers, mining and selling the phytronium. Such tasks probably seem hopelessly unsophisticated to you.”

Gareth shrugged self-consciously. “Your way of life doesn’t sound so bad. In some ways, it seems as though it could be quite pleasant.”

Izbal chewed her bottom lip. “Krys...when you are far from my world, will I still be your wife?”

So many years had passed since anyone had called him by his first name that he almost didn’t recognize it. “Yes. Of course.” Gareth reached up to cup her chin in both hands. “Izbal, I want you to wait for me. Because we both know I will be back. It’s just a matter of when.”

They heard a brief knock, and Brennar entered the room, also dressed for travel. Gareth saw the pain in his wife’s eyes when it struck her anew that Brennar would be going back to the ship with him while she could not.

“I, too, must return to my regular life,” Brennar reminded her gently. “When all this began, I was a passenger on the
Wayfarer
. I shall be one again, though temporarily.”

“I know.” She bit off the words as she fought back tears. Brennar took her hand while Gareth stood alone, in torment, his hands at his sides.

“Yet,” Brennar continued, “I have been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Your future.” He glanced at Gareth. “Our combined future, if you will. Obviously, Captain, you have an established career with the Terran Border Patrol. However, have you considered using your talent and experience to enter the private sector?”

“What do you mean?”

“After I returned to my room last night, I laid awake for several hours. Ultimately I began to envision a transport service and security force for the mine on this planet. At present, the operation is small and, as we have seen, vulnerable to attack. A full-time sentry would deter such occurrences in the future and would assist in developing and marketing Anubian resources.”

Gareth scowled, turning the suggestion over in his mind, but the skepticism did not quite reach his eyes. “That’s an ambitious project. We’d need at least two ships to start out and more later on.”

“Don’t forget, my planet has a stake in the mine, too. I feel confident that the Shibans would donate at least one of their own decommissioned vessels to the cause. The rest will fall into place as time goes on.”

“My community is not poor,” Izbal put in with sudden enthusiasm. “We live simply, by choice, but my father has managed our earnings from the mines for decades. You know he would deny you nothing if it meant you would join forces with him.”

“You should think it over, at least,” Brennar said.

“I will,” Gareth said. He was careful not to betray any hint of optimism to Brennar. If the plan proved impossible after all, the disappointment to all of them would be too great. He checked his communications device. The message he’d been dreading flashed on the tiny screen. “Come on. Our transport pod is waiting.”

They walked out of the keep to find the entire village, including Izbal’s father and his ministers, assembled on the commons to bid them farewell. Seeing the crowd, Izbal no longer bothered to hide her tears.

Pausing at the top of the stone steps, Gareth looked from her to Brennar. “It would take a few months to resign my commission and get a replacement set up,” he said under his breath.

“And perhaps longer for me to disentangle myself from the diplomatic corps. Still, a solid foundation results in a stronger building.”

“Lieutenant Erril is ready to take over the
Wayfarer
. She has been for a while. She probably realized that last week.”

Brennar nodded. “Most likely she will request a command of her own as soon as you return.”

“It wouldn’t be right for me to stand in the way of her career.” Gareth smiled. “And there’s one other thing. Since I don’t plan on staying with them much longer anyway, I think the Terran Council can tolerate my wife being on board the
Wayfarer
for a while. If not, I can resign even earlier.”

“I think so, too,” Brennar agreed, “and let us not forget, you do have a diplomat at your service. You might be surprised what a little rhetorical agility can accomplish.”

“In that case, Izbal, I’d like to invite you to come with us.” Gareth said, low enough that the assembled audience could not hear. He held out his hand to her. “I should warn you, though—on my ship, women have just as many rights and responsibilities as men. And we’ll have a lot more freedom in terms of whom we spend our time with. Brennar won’t have to sneak in and out the way he does here. Think you can handle all that?”

“I can only try my best, my lord,” she said as she curled her fingers around his. “But, as you have often assured me, I am a strong and intelligent woman. Somehow, I think we will all manage.”

THE END

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