Book 1 Flight of the Armada Chapter 3 part 1

Stuart was reluctant to take any more time and help from Michael Sheldon. He knew that the Thuringi scouts were a drain to the young Earthian man’s resources and Michael needed to return to Boston to his Academy and work on this doctoral theses. Stuart did ask for advice on their mode of dress for the Earthian culture. Their Thuringi garments were either obvious uniforms or made of fabric unlike most Earthian goods.

“Well, there are quite a few of you,” Michael sighed. “It will be a heck of a shopping trip.”

Stuart brought out a small cloth bag and gave it to him. “(Will this be useful in covering the expense of such a transaction)?”

Michael looked inside and gasped. Spanish doubloons shone golden and glorious from their nesting place in the bottom of the bag. “Where did you get these?” he asked incredulously.

“(One of your reference materials, the Life one with the pictures, depicted treasures in the sea so Brent and I flew around to investigate while you were gone and found a few of these. Coins for your trade goods, yes)?”

“Well, uh, these are old and not used for direct trade these days,” Michael stammered. “But you can take them to a coin collector or a jeweler’s and get quite a bit in return for them, and then be able to buy all sorts of trade goods.”

“(Interesting)!” Brent looked at his find with a new perspective. “(If they are so valuable, why are they kept on the bottom of your seas, covered by sand or depths of water? You said your world has no Aquatics).”

“We do not. The ships sank, and those happened to be on board at the time.” Michael whistled. “You have enough here to set yourselves up for awhile. All you need to do is find a buyer. These antiques will bring a good price.”

“(Can you do that)?” Gareth asked.

“Well, I can try,” Michael offered. He directed Stuart to fly him to Miami, where they found a collector who was extremely interested in what they had to offer. Michael figured that Tulsa, Oklahoma, might be too inland for someone to waltz in with sixteenth century coins, but Miami, Florida might not be too surprised to see someone with them. Indeed, the coin dealer assumed they would not divulge the location of their find. It did not keep him from asking and he was not surprised when they answered with obscurities.

The coins they traded garnered a great deal of cash, more than enough to pay for supplies. Stuart also insisted that Michael replenish his bank account which the young Earthian man did gratefully. The whole crowd of Thuringi and Michael went into Tulsa to shop at a store that specialized in big and tall people’s clothing. They were outfitted in appropriate attire that appealed to their individual tastes.

Darien bought black shirts, denim jeans and a long gray topcoat while Stuart favored khaki trousers and pullover shirts. Gareth chose denim work shirts and jeans and Glendon chose loose-fitting shirts and close-fitting pants. Brent selected baggy clothing that fit loosely over his webbed suit. As the store personnel scrambled to find some kind of footwear that might fit their large feet, Michael saw Carrol looking through the clothes racks, displeased but trying not to show it.

“Find anything you like?” Michael asked.

“(Not really),” she admitted. “(This is very strange clothing).”

“Well, you are closer to average size for us. Maybe you would like to look in a regular store?” Michael asked. She smiled gratefully. Once the men were satisfied with their purchases, they went on down the street to a ladies’ clothing store. They took one look inside the store and backed out to wait on benches outside along the sidewalk. Michael went in with Carrol. She looked around at the mannequins and turned to Michael.

“(Females here actually wear this)?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh, yes. Why?”

“(All this cloth! All these undergarments and high thin heels on footwear! How can any woman possibly fight in this)?” Carrol asked.

“Well, the truth is, most of the women on this planet do not actively fight.”

“(Why not? You have spoken of so many wars).”

“I guess because here, we would rather make the world safe for women to raise the children.”

“(Suppose a woman was better at fighting than childrearing)?”

“Then I suppose she ought to be fighting,” Michael agreed. “I just find it hard to believe that anyone as beautiful as you have fighting on her mind. Wouldn’t you rather have peace?”

“(Preferring is not the same as having),” Carrol said.

“It is those Shar-gah-say people you are worried about, right?” Michael asked gently. She looked down and made no reply. “Look, you do not have to wear any of this stuff if you don’t want to. You can pick anything you think is comfortable. Dame Fashion doesn’t rule the world.”

Carrol smiled at him. “(I like you, Michael Sheldon),” she told him. “(You have a way of settling a quandary).” She bought some slacks and tops. On the way to the truck, however, she stopped so abruptly in front of a store window that Gareth run into her bodily from behind.

“(What is wrong with you)?” he demanded to know.

“(Look at that),” she gasped breathlessly, looking at the window display with a mannequin wearing a simple but elegant Chanel suit. She looked at Michael, who nodded. Carrol charged into the store like a woman on a mission.

“Well, your sister has good taste,” Michael told the Phillipi brothers. She emerged later with another shopping bag.

“(I am done),” she announced.

“(Just like that)?” Darien asked. “(You just see it and decide)?”

“(Yes),” she replied. “(I know what I like).”

“(Brent will explore the seas),” Stuart told Michael after they returned to Iron Post. “(We are building him a ship in the hanger).” It took Michael a minute to realize that Stuart meant the barn.

“Does he need saltwater as opposed to freshwater?” Michael asked.

“(It does not matter to him for the now. He is a water based Thuringi and misses the feel of Great Waters. After so much time in the vacuum of space, he craves any kind of water at this point. Eventually, we will need to be apart from your people so that we might prepare a safe haven for the Armada when it arrives. That will most likely be an island).”

“Have you decided where this safe haven will be?” Michael asked. “There are still a lot of uncharted islands in the Pacific Ocean.”

“(As soon as the ship is completed Brent will search for a place).”

Brent took Michael out to see his ship-in-progress. “(It is not unlike my old vessel),” he said as he reached to turn on the lights overhead in the barn, “(although Gareth has to make do with material from discarded vehicles of your world to supplement what my old ship could not achieve).” The lights came on, and Michael gaped in wonder.

Brent’s ship was shaped like a killer whale, sleek and black on top, white on bottom, and large. It filled the entire doorway of the barn and stretched to the other side of the building. Upon closer inspection, Michael saw where multiple sheets of metal from castoff cars were joined together by a welding technique Michael never saw before: the pieces of metal were joined as if melted, giving a strange but beautiful smudgelike line that had no weld seam. If metal had not been different colors, Michael would not have been able to distinguish where the seam ran.

He followed Brent up a ladder into the interior of the ship. It was fitted like a travel trailer, the cockpit at the head of the whale and a living area in the center. A sleeping area was located in the back. He wondered about the power system.

Brent shook his head. “(Leave that up to our good lad Gareth. He will cannibalize my star-going vessel for the sake of my seagoing vessel).”

“How will you get to Farcourt?”

“(I will sink into one of the tanks aboard the Freen),” Brent assured him. “(I do not plan to go very far from liquid again).” He invited Michael to sit down on a former auto bench seat, now a comfortable couch. “(I did not wish to alarm my friends, but the trip here nearly killed me. My lips were so dry the day we landed, I tasted blood. Another day or two and my skin would have cracked open and eventually I would have bled to death. I saw it happen to my kindred on Thuringa).”

“Oh my God, that is awful! How many of your people are like you; water based?” Michael asked.

“(Most Aquatics perished as the ecosystem of Thuringa collapsed and our waters became lifeless as the food chain broke down. Pollution from the bombardment poisoned nearly fifty thousand of us; two hundred thousand Thuringi perished in all. There are perhaps, oh... five hundred surviving Aquatics).”

“Five hundred!” Michael exclaimed. “What a holocaust!”

“(Yes),” Brent said. “(I think it fortunate that my parents, my wife, my son and my sister are among the survivors, heading here with the Armada. Whole families were wiped out; most of my wife's Aquatic family is gone but some of her Airman kindred survived).”

The hatch opened, and Glendon stuck his head in through the opening. “(There is nourishment available),” he announced with great anticipation, and the two conversationalists leaped to their feet and followed him back to the house. They ate a filling meal consisting largely of fruits, including Glendon’s peaches from the Gentrys. Michael glanced at his watch.

“I am glad that you are doing so well now,” Michael told the group, “but if you do not mind, I really ought to be getting back East. I have students who are not doing well in their subjects and need my help, and I am still working on my doctoral thesis. I am sure my associates are wondering where I am.”

“(Academy work is important. I know that as well as anyone),” Stuart said warmly. “(My wife is always very busy with her tasks for the Academy on the Armada).”

“Oh no no,” Michael replied, “I am sorry I am not able to help you more; but it is hard to explain my absences to anyone without giving your secret away.”

“(I am sorry for the inconvenience, Michael),” Stuart said with regret, “(but we are grateful for the knowledge you have brought us. I will take you back).”

“(I can take him back),” Carrol said as she entered the room. She wore her Chanel suit and was a stunning sight. Michael could not take his eyes from her; neither could Gareth.

“(Perhaps one of us should return him),” Darien grunted. “(You are not dressed for the occasion).”

“(Well, where else will I wear this, if not now)?” Carrol countered with a flippant air. “(You do not believe I will wear this here among the lot of you)?”

“(I believe we are being snubbed),” Darien declared. “(Go on then, take friend Michael back to his studies. We undeserving few will remain here, alone and unappreciated).” He tossed a peach pit at Gareth.

“(Oh, be hushed),” Carrol told her brother in amusement. “(It is simply an opportunity to wear it).”

After Carrol and Michael left in her aircraft, the Thuringi men all fell silent. Finally, Brent spoke up. “Well, he is just an Outlander of no particular station,” he ventured. “She is simply sticking her tongue out at you, Gareth.”

“Yes, she is,” he agreed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Our Carrol may only wish for a chance to wear her outfit, but I am unsure our friend Michael is aware that it might not be for his benefit.”

“And why should this concern me? Your father has made it plain that I am not to approach Her Highness for myself. She is a grown woman. She can handle herself.” Still, he went out the back door and stood on the porch, deep in thought.

She landed the craft quietly in the shadows next to Michael’s outlaw fraternity house. “I am just staying here while I teach and work on my doctorate,” he explained. “I graduated from here years ago but as a former I Phelta Thigh, I have on-site living privileges. Won’t you come in for a while?” Michael asked.

“(I should return to the outpost),” Carrol replied hesitantly.

“You know, on Thuringa I am sure your culture is more refined and sedate than our own. But here on Earth, an attractive woman in a Chanel suit usually does not mind showing it off for the appreciative,” he commented.

“(Well, perhaps we are not so different after all),” she admitted. "(I do like this dress, and I wonder what the reaction might be)." Michael took her by the arm and led her into the house.

His fraternity brothers all sat upright, their “beautiful woman” radar on and running at full power. These Earthian men were much younger than Carrol. They were like appealing dallah puppies, young and eager to make her feel welcome. They had no notion about her and her past; of Thuringa, of anything. All they knew was Michael Sheldon disappeared for a couple of days in the middle of his final push for his doctorate and returned with a blonde beauty they assumed to be around their age, adorned in haute couture. She was amused and charmed by all the attention from these Earthian men. She glanced up to see Michael as he leaned against the fireplace mantel, a drink one hand with a look of quiet contentment on his face. He lifted his glass in silent salute to her. Travis Hicks caught the exchange and herded his fellows out of the room. “We ought to leave Michael and his friend alone for a little privacy.”

“Who put you in charge,” someone objected, but Travis shut the door behind them as they reluctantly left. Carrol rose to her feet and joined Michael at the fireplace.

“(You have very entertaining companions),” she observed.

“They have their moments,” he agreed and for a long minute, they regarded each other. Michael stroked her cheek with his fingers gently. He brought his hand back up to link with his other hand, around his glass, and continued to gaze at her. She studied him for a moment and placed her hand over his. His fingers claimed some of hers in a snug grip. She was enchanted by the intriguing novelty of gray Earthian eyes. She did not realize that he could not think of anything to say to her that would not sound foolish. She was not a contemporary of his; she was decades older, the most mature woman he ever knew.

He cleared his throat and spoke. “What will you be doing, now that you are settled in?” he asked.

“(We will look for an appropriate spot for our Armada. Then we will work on arranging diplomatic treaties with your people).”

“No, I mean what will you, Carrol, do? Say, in the next few weeks? You mean that your every waking hour will be spent looking for a place to land?”

“(Oh, I see. I am not certain of day-to-day plans, Michael. I have been admiring your homeland. It is incredibly beautiful).”

“Yes, it is. I guess that until you landed here, I pretty much took Earth for granted,” Michael said, and the look in his eyes said something other than what he spoke.

“(It is easy to become complacent when things are going well),” she agreed. She leaned closer. “(How is it that your eyes are that color, and the other people of your race have different colors)?”

“It is genetics,” Michael replied, also leaning closer to her. “Don’t other worlds have different colored eyes?”

“(I suppose),” she said. “(I never noticed anyone’s eye color before, really. It has never been an issue as everyone knows Thuringi have yellow eyes).”

“Well, I have never seen yellow eyes before. Yours are wonderful, so different than anything we’ve got here on Earth,” he told her. She was so invitingly close. He decided to take the chance; if she objected, he would call it quits. But the chance that she might not object spurred him to lean further and kiss her on the lips. It was not a surprising development for her, and she reacted calmly.

“I am glad I met you,” Michael whispered. She made no reply but did not draw back. Instead, she studied him curiously. He was thoughtful and considerate and attractive, someone who could stand side by side with any ordinary Thuringi and not be found wanting. But he was not Maranta Shanaugh nor was he Gareth Duncan. It was unwise to let Michael Sheldon believe she was available for his private regard; he was their host here on Earth and it would be foolish to endanger their haven for the sake of reassuring her own ego. In the end, the man for whom she chose the beautiful suit to admire was in Oklahoma waiting for her.

“(I am grateful we have met you),” she assured him. “(But now I must return to the farm).”

“Did I offend you? I am sorry, but if you are going to live on Earth, you will need to understand certain customs. I wasn’t assuming anything with that kiss—”

“(I know that, Michael),” she said.

“When we find someone we are attracted to, we try for a kiss sometimes.”

“(As do we, when it may be reciprocated).”

“Then you understand?”

“(Yes, I do. And now I must go).”

“But why?”

“(It would be unwise if it were to go badly),” she told him, not willing to mention Gareth’s name. If things did go badly and if Father should ever find out that Gareth’s name was involved, he would never forgive either of them. “(I have too much for which I am responsible to indulge in personal quests).”

“Oh,” Michael said as he released her arm. “In that case I’ll walk you out to your car – er, your plane.”

“(No, it will be all right. Thank you, Michael, for everything).” She let herself out. He returned to the fireplace, his hands jammed in his pockets, when he noticed the little purse on the couch. She was a Thuringi and not used to remembering to take a handbag with her.

She was about to get into Her Nibs when she heard something rustle the foliage nearby. She jumped back with a gasp and scrambled to grasp the weapon that was not at her side. “It is all right, Your Nibs,” Gareth said as he emerged from the shadows. “I will not shoot.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Taking the opportunity to be alone with you; like your friend Michael,” he said as he came to stand before her.

“Jealousy does not become you,” she told him.

“It is not jealousy,” he contradicted. “It ... Well, perhaps a degree of ... oh, all right, then. Do you think it fair that I must stay at arm’s length from you, yet this Earthian has the right to be in your company, can be close to you because he is what, indigenous to this world?” Gareth asked her unhappily. “You want me to leave you alone with our new friend now in your new gown that you know looks queenly on you? Or ... would you like to dance?” He put his hands on the sides of her waist. She smiled.

“I want to dance,” she told him, and put her arms around his neck. They slowly swayed from side to side.

“It is not proper form; we would be scolded by the Bishop,” he warned. He also made no move to change anything.

“Let him scold,” she murmured and offered a kiss. He took it gladly and slid his arms around her for a firm hold. They continued to sway. “There is no music,” she said quietly in his ear.

“There is for me,” he replied.

“And you say you have no gift for gentle phrases!” she said with a soft laugh. She snuggled her face against his neck.

Michael Sheldon saw their silent dance in the moonlight. Without a word he turned and took her purse back into the house. It was all clear to him. He understood a secret rendezvous as much as anyone and was relieved he had not made a fool of himself.

“We will not be able to stay gone long,” Gareth reminded her at length. “Guardian and Good Boy have sharp eyes.”

“Just a minute more,” she encouraged, and he was willing to indulge her. “You were naughty to give me the Tarinade to read on that long trip. I should not be so cozy with you,” she said, and gave him a deep kiss.

“I cannot believe you read it! Quote me something.”

“We have to get back.”

“Something short, then.”

She sighed. “I would rather read it with you. That is how it was intended, I believe.”

“And just when will we do that, Your Nibs?” Gareth asked in her ear. “While our four guards are asleep?”

“They have to at some point,” she pointed out.

He landed behind the barn first and wandered up to the back porch. He was about to step quietly through the back door, when a hand lantern lit up beside him that illuminated Stuart in the glow.

“Out on patrol?” Stuart asked noncommittally.

“Yes,” Gareth replied curtly.

“Hmmm.” Gareth went on inside. Carrol landed her ship a few minutes later, and also came back from the barn. Stuart lit the hand lantern just as he had for Gareth.

“Oh! Stuart, you startled me,” Carrol laughed.

“And you startle me, sister, at every turn,” he replied. “How is our friend Michael?”

“He is well. He is back working on his doctorate now,” she told him.

“He seems quite taken with you, not surprisingly,” Stuart observed. Carrol did not reply. “Carrol, I do not think you should let our friend Michael believe -”

“He does not. He was genuinely nice but when he became forward and obvious about his interest, I took the opportunity to explain that I was not interested. I did not wish to embarrass him by saying so in front of all of you, and none of you would give me the opportunity to speak to him privately here. He understands, I think.”

“And Gareth? Does he understand?”

“Understand what? What are you saying, Stuart?”

“Do not toy with Gareth,” Stuart said plainly.

“I have no intention to ‘toy’ with him,” Carrol told him sharply. “I do not believe in toying with anyone.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Very little with two brothers, a Naradi and a bad-tempered waterman always scolding and wagging their fingers at us,” she declared.

“Yes, you have certainly picked up on Gareth’s way of speaking,” Stuart observed with amusement.

“After gintas of listening to the five of you men chatter over the com? I should be ripe for a rousing conversation,” Carrol said as she opened the door. “If you do not mind Stuart, I would like to go and change my clothes. Whoever this Chanel person is did not design for flight. Then I am going to bed. Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

“No,” Stuart said easily. “Good night, Princess Nibs.” She went on in.

Beside his brother in the dark, Darien chuckled. “I told you. Those two are amateurs.”

“We should count ourselves fortunate then, Darien. I cannot image how I would keep watch if they were proficient.”

“I have never been on an outpost before,” Brent confessed as he stirred from a full washtub on the back porch. It startled the brothers who did not even realize he had been there the whole time, and they felt foolish to have been surprised by an Aquatic in a tub of all things. “Would you say this one is successful?”

Stuart considered their health, their lodging and their native friend, and smiled broadly. “Oh, I would definitely say so.”

Gareth tossed and turned in his hammock all night. He was tired and knew how vital it was for him to get a good rest at night, but his mind would not stop whirling. There was so much to do, so much to think about. For ginta after ginta the scouts bored each other numb with jokes and stories and mind riddles to pass the time in the flight to Earth. They had no idea what to expect from the unknown world and therefore were plagued by the lack of anything to keep their minds busy.

Glendon was the best at making up of silly poems, it was decided; Stuart did a surprising but hilariously dead-on impersonation of Bishop Trapis at the most appropriate moments in conversation. It was agreed that Darien was no singer by any stretch of the imagination, and Brent knew the best naughty jokes. Now that they were on Earth and safely ensconced on Michael Sheldon’s old home, there was so much for him to do Gareth scarcely had time to think in the daytime, only act.

Brent’s ship must be finished and finished quickly so he could do further studies of the oceans. Stuart and Darien and Glendon all needed smaller ships than the scouting ships for reconnaissance flights. They all needed better means of intelligence gathering as well as more subtle communicators. Carrol needed a better medical research facility than the farmhouse parlor.

And Gareth needed Carrol, in the most fundamental way. It was excruciating to watch her leave to take the Earthian back to his home. He could tell the man was taken with her, and that irked Gareth so much he followed them despite his resolve. The time until she came out to her ship seemed interminable and he paced back and forth in the bushes until she appeared. Then Carrol Shanaugh de Phillipi was in his arms and Gareth forgot his impatience.

Holding her in his arms was one of the many things he wanted to do for weeks; to wish for more now seemed unlikely with her brothers on the watch. Naturally, he read the Tarinade before he gave it to her and wished he had not. Those tormenting thoughts and phrases had been in his head ever since.

During the flight, Brent decided to quote some of the text from memory and got stuck with a forgotten phrase.

“No, no, you fool!” Gareth shouted. “You have mangled the entire phrase!” There was a sudden silence and he managed to continue with, “Any school boy who ever went through consue knows that phrase.”

They all laughed and agreed, and the incident was soon forgotten. But oh God, to hold her and dance in the silvery moonlight brought the entire passage back to his mind. Damn married men: only fellow bachelor Darien understood Gareth’s longing. But Darien spent time with a willing lass on the Armada before their flight to ease his needs. The only compensation Gareth had was plenty of work to keep occupied and a cold tub of water. He finally decided to stop tossing around. He unfolded from his hammock and went to the door of the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Glendon mumbled, sleepy but aware.

“No need to worry,” Gareth replied wearily. “I will be in Brent’s water tank out by the hanger, if it is any business of yours.”

“Whatever for?” Glendon asked, awakened a little more by the odd reply.

“Oh, who cares,” Gareth said, angry with frustration. “I will be awake enough tomorrow to do what I am told. Just leave me alone.” He was gone, and Glendon heard the back door shut moments later.

Although the water tank cooled his ardor, it also woke him completely. It would do no good to return to bed now; Carrol’s bedroom was only a few steps further, and he was just addled enough to petition her if he went back into the house. Instead, he went to the barn to work on Brent’s ship. Glendon found him lying across the engine later than morning, sound asleep with tools in his hands. He covered Gareth with a blanket and went back into the house.

“I found him. He is asleep on Brent’s engine.”

“Why did he go out to work if he is just going to sleep?” Brent wondered. Carrol joined the team in the kitchen. She also had a restless night and did not even bother to brush or re-braid her hair.

"I need to see about this rousting work of which Michael Sheldon spoke," Darien said as he ate an egg. "It may be interesting to see how the average Earthian works with his hands."

"Did you know that Michael said you can cook those to eat them," Stuart told his brother.

Darien picked at his teeth with a slim wooden stick. "Well, perhaps it would soften the peeling a little."

Gareth trudged into the kitchen, his eyes heavy and underscored with dark circles. For a moment he and Carrol regarded each other. He gave her a weary smile and poured himself a glass of orange juice

“Gareth, will I be able to steer that monstrous white thing of yours?” Darien asked.

“I need that to go to the feed store,” Glendon objected.

“Well then, Gareth will need to build me one,” Darien shrugged.

“When will my ship be done?” Brent asked curiously.

“We will need to go on reconnaissance soon,” Stuart murmured in thought.

Carrol watched as Gareth sat down his glass of juice and stared at all four men until he got their attention. The glare in his weary eyes told them of his mood. He turned to Carrol.

“Good morning, Your Nibs,” he greeted hoarsely.

“Good morning, Gareth. You look awful.” She wanted to kick herself for such a rude reply. She was suddenly aware of her own disheveled state, and belatedly reached up to smooth her hair.

Gareth laughed but it held no mirth. He headed for the barn again.

“Stuart, he looks so worn,” Carrol fretted. “You must let him rest.”

“Carrol, we need his talents now,” Stuart explained.

“Then perhaps some of you should help him instead of simply saying Gareth do this and that!” Carrol snapped. “I am going to go help him. Darien, you and Glendon can both use the truck – it is called a truck, Darien! Gareth does not build monsters and do not insult him by saying such. Stuart, you can hold a tool, too. Get up, lazybones,” she commanded as she pulled the chair out from under Brent. “If you want a ship, go help build a ship!” She stormed off to her bedroom.

Brent picked himself up off the floor. “What has gotten into her?”

Stuart shook his head. “She is right. Darien, ask at Glendon’s store about the oil man and do not forget to wear your glasses. Brent, we can go help Gareth. He has been working constantly since we got here and even before, on the Quantid. It is not fair to leave all the toil to him. We can at least do what we can.”

Glendon picked up the truck keys. “I am driving.”

“You do not know how to drive,” Darien protested.

“Neither do you. But I have ridden, and I have watched. You have not.” The two debated the issue all the way out to the truck.

Carrol barreled back down the stairs in slacks and a shirt, her hair brushed and neatly braided once more. She found Gareth in the barn, cursing at the engine.

“What did it do?” she asked.

“What? Nothing,” he replied, surprised at her appearance at the door. “It is what it will not do, which is move where I need it to go.”

“It will not fit?”

“Yes, but I cannot do it by myself.”

“Stuart and Brent are coming out to help us,” she assured him as she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.

“Us?” He smiled at her. “Your Nibs, are you going to get dirty with me?”

For a moment she looked at him as if seeing something distant. Then she smiled broadly and gave him a bigger, bolder kiss on the lips. “Would you rather I clean you off?” She was rewarded by his look of sweetly tortured but willing anticipation.

“Verse Twenty,” he groaned, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“You read the Tarinade,” she gasped.

“Before we left the Quantid.”

“Oh, poor man!” She laughed and he joined in as Stuart and Glendon entered.

“What is the joke?” Stuart asked curiously, but all he got in reply was another burst of laughter. They moved the engine where Gareth needed it and continued work on the ship for the rest of the morning at his direction.