Book 1 Flight of the Armada Chapter 5 Part 1

Gareth shivered as he came down the stairs early one Sunday morning. It was unusually cold in the house, and he opened the door to the front room wood stove, expecting to see it dark. To his surprise, the embers glowed red hot and the area immediately around the stove was comfortable. It was the rest of the house that was cold. He added some logs and soon built a roaring fire. He adjusted the flue and went into the kitchen to start up a morning meal. At first, he merely glanced out the window, then snapped back in surprise and stared out.

“Stuart!” he yelled as he run into the front room and up the stairway. “Stuart! Darien! Everyone, up! Look outside!” Querulous voices from all over the second floor sleepily wondered what all the shouting was about. He stuck his head into the Phillipi brother’s room.

“Get awake, Your Brotherly Nibs! I have never seen anything like this. Glendon! Get up, reprobate! Guard your window!” he called from the hallway to his roommate. He went to Carrol’s door and knocked.

“What is it? What is happening?” Carrol called out. Gareth entered, went over to her window, and motioned for her to join him. As she did, she rubbed her arms against the cold. He embraced her from behind and covered her arms with his.

“Look, Your Nibs.” They faced the window. “Is it not a wonderland?”

The tired brown landscape from the evening before had been transformed overnight. In the early hour of the rising dawn the earth was blanketed with a soft mantle of white as far as they could see. The black trunks and limbs of trees were topped with a white icing. Millions of little white flakes fell from the sky in a whirling dance with the whims of the wind.

“Oh,” Carrol gasped. “It must snow; I did not realize it would come here. How beautiful it is, Gareth; like magic.”

Glendon came in to stand beside them at the window. “I thought it was a picture painted on my window glass, but it is all around. They will never believe this back on the Armada.”

It was true. Thuringa seldom had snow except on the highest mountains, and that was mostly ice. It could get bitterly cold elsewhere, but the scouts and much of the Armada had never experienced snow where they lived before. The ice and snow the Armada harvested to replenish the water supply was taken from icy worlds by fully automated ships.

“Why is it so blasted cold?” Brent asked, and stopped short. He exhaled a concentrated breath, and his voice squeaked as he said, “Look, the very air is seen.”

“The fire in the stove is raging,” Gareth told him. “It is just that cold.”

Stuart laughed with anticipation. “I am going out to investigate this snow. Who is with me?” They all scrambled back to their rooms to get dressed.

Darien was already downstairs at work on the stove by the time they descended. The front room was cozily warm now and the windows fogged over. They wore as many layers of clothes as they could find, and their most recent purchases of heavy coats were treasures now. As one accord, they gathered at the front door and opened it. The frigid air struck them like a blow. In one accord they all exclaimed in dismay and shut the door.

“Last one out is an istay,” Darien dared. He opened the door and hurried out. They followed him into the wonderland.

He leaped off the porch into six inches of snow and stepped high out of his own footsteps. He forayed a few yards before he stopped to look back at his progress. The others did likewise. Glendon fashioned a ball of snow he saw a person do on a television show. He threw it and it made a satisfying smack against Darien’s back, sticking to it like a large piece of fuzz. Darien whirled around with a devilish grin. The battle was on.

For the next thirty minutes, the front yard of the Sheldon ranch was alive with the tall, powerful alien warriors who screamed and yelled and laughed like little children, each trying to hit the other with snowballs. It was a romp the likes of which the onlooking cattle never saw before. The cold finally convinced the happy scouts to go back inside to gather around the stove and laugh about their play.

“We will have a distinct advantage if this is included in a future Festival,” Stuart whooped. “What a time!”

“Look how it melts upon the stove,” Gareth noticed. He knocked a little off his coat to observe the sizzle on the hot metal.

“Your nose is red,” Carrol laughed at Darien.

“So is yours, and his, and his,” Darien pointed out.

“It is not like this everywhere,” Brent told them, and the weather bulletin on television confirmed his words. “I like this planet more and more. The variety is astounding. It was warm down in the Gulf on the Isador.”

“Glad you came back now?” Glendon asked him.

“Oh, yes. Are you glad it is the week’s end?”

“Sundays-off at that! The entire day to play in cold white!”

When the snowfall abated and the sun crept out at mid-morning, it looked new all over again. The sunlight made the blanket of snow shimmer in its icy glory, and the icicles along the edge of the roof were like crystal swords. Darien broke some off and brought them in for inspection under Carrol’s analyzer. Glendon made the morning meal and from time to time that day they went back out to play and explore and get cold.

Gareth finished installing a heater upstairs in the bathroom. It was a unit taken out of his scout ship that he intended to install earlier but something more important to work on always took its place. Now, this was the more important deed.

“How difficult will it be to make more of those using Earthian materials?” Stuart asked, handing him tools as needed.

“If I could get my hands on the right things, not difficult at all,” Gareth told him. “We may need to go on midnight foraging runs but it can be accomplished.”

“You mean we need to steal a few things,” Stuart clarified.

“Well, not steal. We may need to borrow a few items from their metal refuse locations. I was thinking about arranging for another vehicle from one of them; one that is not too damaged. We may be able to exchange a nominal amount of folding coin for it. While we are at it, we can get some vehicle heaters from them for the rest of the house. I can fix up something for us.”

“What did we ever do without you, before?” Stuart marveled.

“You mostly led dull, boring lives, Your Crown Nibs,” Gareth said as he finished up and put his tools back in his portable kit, “punctuated occasionally by the odd Kellis match.” Stuart chuckled, and Gareth turned the heating unit on. They warmed themselves.

“You seem to have a positive impact on Carrol,” Stuart said in contemplation.

“And she on me,” Gareth replied. “I may very well be able to hold a proper conversation with almost anyone when we return to the Armada.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps even with your father.”

“From what he has indicated to me, he likes your somewhat improper conversations,” Stuart assured him. “Whatever you choose to say to my father concerning Carrol, you will have my backing.”

Gareth looked at him and smiled gratefully. “Because I am handy to have around?” he asked in jest.

Stuart stretched as he rose to his feet. “Well, you seem to have a knack for repairing broken hearts as well as broken machinery.” He ruffled the hair on top of Gareth’s head as he went out of the room. Gareth closed his eyes and sighed with happy hope in his heart and took his tool kit back to his room.

It was dark earlier now and the warm cocoon of the house encouraged them to stay indoors for the evening. They ate a satisfying meal of vegetable stew and slices of thick bread that Carrol accomplished in the oven. The smell of the bread was a delight to the nose, and they laughed remembering their first day on Earth, when the idea of biting into dry bread was unpleasant.

Michael Sheldon called them every week to check on their progress and answer questions. He would be home this Christmas, he told Stuart on the phone that evening. Stuart had many questions about democracy and the electoral process, having learned about the Kennedy election.

Darien cleaned the dishes not because he liked to, but because it was his turn, and he was unable to talk anyone into trading with him. When he was done, he joined Glendon in front of the television to cater to their weekly indulgence, a western series.

“Sad that a man loses three wives, yet retains three hard-headed sons,” Glendon remarked.

“Better than the other way around,” Darien pointed out. “Would you want three hard-headed women, when even one might be a trial?” Glendon threw his head back and laughed.

Brent was usually aboard the Isador by this time, but the weather encouraged him to stay and watch the show with them. He wrapped up in a blanket and sat before the console television. “I like the gakkis,” he declared. “The spotted one is a beauty. Michael Sheldon should get one like that, here.”

Gareth and Carrol sat on the couch and shared a blanket. It could be successfully argued that they sat so close together for the sake of keeping warm, and no one could object to entwined fingers on hands which could not be seen. The occasional stolen kiss was appropriated at delightfully frequent intervals, as avid western saga critics Darien and Glendon caught Brent up to date with the story of an alien planet’s past. The crown prince/head chaperone was busy discussing politics with his Earthian friend.

When Stuart finally ended his conversation with Michael, he asked, “Is this not a grand evening? We are cozy and warm – some especially so,” he said, letting the couple on the couch know he was aware of their activity, “all in the happy comfort of what must be one of the most pleasant outposts I have ever served.”

“What did Michael say?” Glendon asked.

“He will be out to visit on the twentieth of December, in time for the celebration of the Jesus birth."

"I am to attend a celebration at the school on that night," Darien informed them. At their surprised response, he explained. "Monica Martin made me swear a solemn promise to view her portrayal as a sheep in a child's pageant at her poddack," Darien said with a sigh.

"You do not sound very happy about it," Glendon told him.

"I was coerced by a slip of a child, and I could not back out without serious repercussions."

"She would have cried?"

"Like a rainstorm. It is unreasonable pressure."

“I fail to understand why you let that furry creature inside when I am here,” Brent declared as he wrapped his blanket around him tightly in order to discourage the tabby cat nearby. “He bites, and it is always only me.”

"Leave him be, he is a comforting thing when he makes that rumbling noise in his throat," Carrol protested.

“Foul beast,” Brent threatened the cat, “I will smack you well if you try for me again.”

“You are imagining things,” Stuart told him. “I shall take you back to the Isador tomorrow. The two-seated fighter Gareth crafted is right for the task.”

“I like it,” Brent agreed. “I want one.”

“Greedy! You already have the Isador,” Stuart protested, and changed the subject so Brent could not put in another demand for a two-seater. “This Kennedy is a handy ruler in the American office. I will contact him,” Stuart returned to the conversation with Michael. “Kennedy is interested in space travel and by a coincidence, so are we.”

“Time for bed for me; I am interested in sleeping,” Darien declared as he rose and stretched. “Is that heater in the bath in working order?” Gareth assured him it was, so Darien went off to bathe. Glendon said goodnight and went upstairs. He preferred morning showers to awaken better. Darien did not like to begin his day outdoors with a shower so his was always at night.

Brent turned off the television and swatted away the cat from his arm. “I am not greedy, I just speak up more often about what I want,” Brent explained as he went to bed.

“Coming?” Stuart asked the pair on the couch.

“We were waiting for the program after the gakki one,” Carrol said. “Would you turn it back on for us?”

“Yes, I shall,” Stuart said. “Would you rather sit closer to the set?”

“We are warmer here,” Carrol told him. He eyed her speculatively but made no further comment. He turned the set back on and went on upstairs.

“We are getting to be quite scandalous,” Gareth whispered to her. "We dance, we sit close to each other, steal kisses –”

"What will we not do!" she laughed. He put his arm around her shoulders.

"That is entirely up to you, Your Nibs," he told her. She gazed at him, and as they began to embrace, they were stopped by the sound of feet coming back down stairs.

"We are going to view the program with you," Brent told them and without further ado, flung himself across both their laps. Glendon leaped on top of Brent, and Gareth and Carrol groaned in protest.

"We will all become knowledgeable," Stuart intoned grandly, and sat on top Glendon. The resultant weight was too much for the sofa, which was not made of Dorea wood. The legs all gave way at once and sent the furniture piece and its users crashing to the floor. For a moment they were stunned into silence.

"See the trouble that ensues when you choose to sit with my sister," Stuart complained.

"It was not my weight that did the deed," Carrol objected.

"Oh yes it was," Glendon countered. "I sat on this settee just yesterday and had no trouble with it."

"And I had no problem with it," Stuart promised.

"Get off of me before I die!" Brent wheezed. Stuart and Glendon rose, and Brent clambered off the couch unsteadily. Gareth and Carrol reluctantly followed suit.

"Bedtime is a good idea," Gareth acknowledged resignedly, and Glendon slapped him on the back.

"There is a good fellow. Come along, Carrol, time to visit a dreamland."

"You istay. I never gave you any trouble with Aura," she whispered to Stuart.

"I needed none, I had plenty on my own," Stuart whispered back.

Darien drove the truck to the school auditorium as per Lloyd Martin’s directions. He promised little Monica Martin that he would attend this ‘Christmas pageant’ thing of hers, and Darien disliked breaking any promises he made to children. Michael Sheldon drove out to see the scouts and assured Darien that a school Christmas pageant was a treat. He stayed at the ranch with the other Thuringi while Darien drove into town, properly dressed in his Earthian suit and tie and hat. His overcoat covered his pistol well.

Darien was familiar with the Christmas story from hearing Michael Sheldon relate it but did not understand the excitement connected with it. He made his way through the milling crowd of people gathered at the school and found a seat near the front on the aisle of a side section of seats. He glanced around and noted that the other men removed their hats, so he pulled off his.

There was an abundance of red and green decorations all around the auditorium, and an evergreen tree stood off to a corner festooned in large colorful lights and ornaments and strings of sparkling tinsel ribbons. Upon further inspection Darien saw the tree was not growing inside the building but had been cut down and placed in a strange metal holder. Evidently the tree was part of this odd annual ritual but mystified Darien as to its role in the proceedings.

The lights dimmed as a musician played an instrument similar to a Thuringi melator with keys that each struck a particular note when pressed. The musician was very well rehearsed. Darien sat back to watch the pageant.

Two children named 'Mary' and 'Joseph' dragged along a painted wooden representation of a small gakki on small wheels across the stage. They were met at an inn by its quarrelsome owner and were brusquely turned away. The next scene found the unfortunate couple in an animal shelter surrounded by the wooden gakki and a wooden cabrett. Little Mary smiled down on a brightly lit baby doll in a trough while children in white gowns and fanciful paper wings attached to their backs portrayed angel spirits. At occasional junctures, a large herd of children on a set of risers directly in front of the stage sang little songs that described the scenes in lyrical detail.

The curtain closed, and three more children in robes with towels wrapped around their heads marched out in front of the curtain and sang. Other children in fluffy white costumes with black arms and legs accompanied them. Darien recognized one of the fluffy ones as Monica Martin. He sat back in his seat and grinned widely as she put forth a valiant effort and sang of shepherds and their flocks by night. The curtains opened, and the shepherds and sheep gathered around the royal couple and their brightly lit infant doll. They sang another song, and the curtain closed again.

Three stout boys came out in front of the curtain in the company of hideous looking creatures with misshapen backs, made from the same material as the earlier gakki and cabrett. The boys wore crowns and fancy robes and carried strange jars and boxes. They claimed to be 'three kings from Orientar.' The curtain opened at the end of the song, and the kings joined the tableau around the bright doll. All the children sang of a silent night, which amused Darien greatly. So far nothing had been silent; either the children sang, or the instrument played, or members of the audience coughed or whispered among themselves.

The children suddenly burst into song to proclaim, “Joy to the World.” It made Darien jerk upright in his seat, startled at the sudden switch of mood. At the end of the song one of the boy kings stepped forward and wished everyone a merry Christmas, and the audience stood and clapped their hands in approval of the performance. Darien also applauded as the house lights came on and the children could see the audience. Monica Martin saw her parents, who sat where they told her they would. She glanced around and saw Darien’s tall figure. It was not hard to miss him. He was the only six-foot-seven-inch-tall blonde man with yellow eyes dressed in an expensive three-piece suit and topcoat in the room. He observed other adults approach the stage to collect their children, so Darien went to the stage edge. Monica ecstatically pulled at her friends’ sleeves and costumes.

“See? My Uncle Darien has come to see me, just like he said he would! Hi, Uncle Darien!” As she hurried toward him, she tripped over a prop piece that fell from a boy kings’ costume. She pitched forward off the stage. With a mighty leap, Darien threw himself forward and caught her in his arms and turned in midair before crashing into the wall of the stage front with his back.

The sound and action made the auditorium fall silent, as all heads turned to see what happened. A teacher hurried to them. “Are you all right, Monnie?” she asked. Monica nodded. “My, that was quick!” the teacher told Darien. “You must have been a star football receiver in school.” Darien smiled at her but said nothing. Lloyd and Katie rushed to them as the people in the auditorium resumed their hubbub of post-show activity.

“Man, that was fast,” Lloyd sighed with relief. “Thanks, Darien.”

“(It would not do to let such a noble portrayer of a fuzzy white creature become injured),” Darien replied. “(Would it, child)?” he asked Monica, who hugged his neck in delight. He stepped away from the wall and the teacher stared at it in concern. Darien turned to see what caused her concern and noted the large indentation in the plaster wall. The teacher checked his back. It was covered in plaster dust, but he did not appear injured.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “(I am better than your structure),” he replied. He put Monica down on her feet to talk to her, unconcerned and unharmed. “(And just what is the significance of a fuzzy creature as pertains to this Christmas pageant)?” he asked.

“What?” she asked with a grin.

“(What are you, what is this costume)?” He squatted down in order to speak to her without putting a strain on her neck to look up at him.

“I’m a sheep,” she told him. “I’m with the shepherds.”

“(I see),” he said thoughtfully. “(And the shepherds came to look at the child).”

“Yes, because he’s the baby Jesus,” Monica replied.

“(Well, it was a very nice portrayal),” Darien said. “(I thoroughly enjoyed it).”

“I’m so glad you came!” Monica said excitedly. “I told all my friends that you would.”

“(If it pleases you),” Darien replied, and wondered what made the sudden flash of light nearby. It was Katie with a flash attachment on her camera. Darien straightened and Monica took his hand.

“Will you come to Christmas Eve services with us? And Sunday, too? And bring your family?” she pleaded.

“(I cannot speak for the others),” he said doubtfully. “(And truly, child, I doubt I can attend this service with you) –”

“Oh, please, Darien!” Monica jumped up and down and held his hand in both of hers. “It’ll be really nice at our church, and grown-ups sing a lot better than kids. Please? Miss Evans will be there, too. She goes to our church.” She indicated her teacher. Darien glanced at the attractive teacher beside him and smiled at her.

“Persuasive, isn’t she?” Lloyd commented with a grin.

“(Like a rapid river),” Darien replied. He turned back to Monica. “(Very well, child; I will attend your service. One service and it is only because your charming presence is too compelling to ignore).”

“Are you all right, sir?” asked the principal, who saw Darien catch Monica and run into the stage earlier from across the auditorium and only now was able to get to them. Darien nodded. “There are refreshments set up in the cafeteria. You’re welcome to come have some punch and cookies with us. Hello, Lloyd; Katie.”

“I’m Melinda Evans,” Monica’s teacher introduced herself to the mysterious stranger before her.

“(Darien Phillipi),” he rejoined.

“How long have you been in America?”

“(Not long),” Darien replied.

“I wonder if you might come to our class and tell the children about growing up in England,” Miss Evans said, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Michael Sheldon warned about the Thuringi need for proper identification, and visas, and other things Darien never thought necessary until that moment.

“(I am not a good speaker. My language is far too salacious to expose to young children).”

She looked surprised and amused. “Mr. Phillipi, I would be willing to bet that any man who uses a word like ‘salacious’ so casually in conversation in the middle of Oklahoma, would be worth the risk of exposure.” He laughed. “Monica speaks so highly of you. I’m glad to meet you at last.” Monica joined her parents and they all made way through the crowd to the cafeteria with the principal.

“(What has she told you)?” Darien asked, and hoped he sounded merely curious and not as concerned as he felt. Who knew what a small impressionable child might say?

“She told us that, well this sounds funny I guess, but she told us that in your home village, your people never cut their hair.”

“(Well, that is generally true),” Darien agreed. “(It is a local custom, and we adapted to yours. What else)?”

“Oh, nothing specific; she just said you were tall and strong and ... well, I think she has quite a crush on you.”

“(A what)?”

“A crush. You know.”

“(I am unfamiliar with the term).”

“She’s... she has a little girl’s affection for an older man.”

“(Oh),” Darien replied, and laughed. “(She obviously has only the most rudimentary knowledge of my actual personality. She is only a little girl, after all. My nature is drawn to mature charms).”

“Well,” Miss Evans replied with a bright smile, “she left out the part about how well you flirt.”

“(One cannot relate what one does not know).”

The cookies were sweet confections covered with even sweeter icing that made Darien sick. The Thuringi sweet tooth could not handle such an overload; it was like getting drunk without the amusement. The punch he used to try to wash it down only made it worse. He excused himself to the Martins and the fair Miss Evans.

“(I am not prepared for the ingestion of such fare),” he told them. “(I must make my way homeward now. You were delightful, child),” he addressed Monica. “(I have never witnessed so insightful a presentation as that of you as a woolen sheep).”

“And you’ll come to Christmas services?” she persisted. Darien grimaced for a moment, and then smiled.

“(If it is your pleasure),” he sighed. He looked at Lloyd. “(She has all the makings of a general),” he said, then bowed to the ladies and left.

“What an interesting man,” Melinda Evans said.

“He’s not much for revealing a lot about himself,” Lloyd told her. “He will talk all day in that big wordy way of his, and not really say a damn thing.”

Darien returned to Sheldon ranch, stopping along the way to throw up the sickly-sweet contents of his stomach.

Michael Sheldon was with everyone else in the living room. They fitted him with one of their translators, and he was happy to use the handy device. He brought some Christmas cheer in the form of good, imported beer, which was voted as the best Earth had to offer. Michael made a concerted effort to not look too long at Carrol. He was terribly smitten with her still and wondered how to get her alone.

“We are invited to attend a service on the Eve of Christmas,” Darien told them, “and you must all join me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Stuart laughed.

“Yes,” Darien said decisively. “Tonight, I witnessed a confusing display, and I would like our friend Michael to explain it, please.” He described the Christmas pageant exactly as he saw it, and Michael Sheldon nearly rolled on the floor with laughter.

“(I think you will get a better impression of the true meaning of Christmas at the church service on Christmas Eve than at a school program),” Michael finally said though his gasps for air.

“Will they have real sheep there?” Glendon asked.

“(No, no, sheep are just incidental),” Michael said. “(I think it is because Monica played a sheep that Darien puts so much importance on it).”

“I think it is vital to attend this service,” Darien told Stuart. “This is a high holy day to these people and understanding it may bring us a better understanding of their method of worship.”

Stuart agreed, and added, "No doubt it will guarantee you will not have to do it alone." He handed Darien an imported beer. Darien took a tentative drink and smiled broadly.

“Much better than fizzless wizzar and confections,” he told them.

Michael was persuaded to stay the night and go back to Tulsa the next morning if he must return at all. They made a comfortable bed for him on the sofa. The next morning, he awoke to discover Carrol alone in the kitchen making breakfast. He took the opportunity to have a private talk with her.

“(I am glad you are feeling more comfortable here),” he said as she scrambled eggs in the skillet.

“It is a nice world you have here, Michael,” she told him. “I cannot wait for my parents to get here! They will like it very much.”

“(Speaking of parents, how about coming to Tulsa with me to meet my family)?” Michael asked. “(It is only a couple of hours from here. I could have you back by five this afternoon).”

“Why?” she asked. He reached out and stroked her hair.

“(It would be a nice time for the two of us to get away and talk),” he said.

“About what?” she asked. “We can talk now.”

“(Are you still involved with your mechanic friend)?” he asked directly.

“What do you mean?”

“(I saw the two of you up in Boston when you took me back after the English lessons. I just wondered if it was still a factor in not giving me a chance),” Michael said.

“Michael,” Carrol sighed, but said no more.

“(So, the answer is yes, you are still involved with him)?” She nodded at his question. “(May I ask if you are still involved with him, then why don’t you and he show each other any affection)?”

“We cannot,” she told him quietly. “Father does not wish for us to be either hasty or blatant as we explore furthering our friendship.”

“(So, you are just friends, then),” Michael said. “(Do you have any objections with being a friend to me)?” he asked and moved a little closer to her. She turned off the fire under the skillet and regarded him seriously.

“That depends upon to what degree of friendship you seek,” she replied.

“(Is it that hard to figure out)?” Michael chuckled. “(You weren’t born yesterday. I would like to be good friends with you, as I am sure you realize).” He turned her around to face him. “(I may not be Thuringi, but I certainly do appreciate an attractive woman when I see one).” He kissed her, and she trembled. “(Maybe you would like to explain the degree of friendship that makes you shake like this),” he murmured to her.

What could she say to him? This was the situation she dreaded. If she spurned him, he might retract his aid to them or expose them to warmongers of his world. But if she encouraged him, it would be a lie.

“Please do not make me speak of this,” she pleaded. “It is difficult to explain, Michael.”

“(No, it isn’t),” Michael told her as he held her closer. “(How difficult can it be to say if you are attracted to me)?”

“How difficult is what?” Gareth’s sharp voice came from the direction of the doorway.

His unexpected appearance startled both Michael and Carrol. Gareth was dressed to go outside, his toolbox in one gloved hand and a hat in the other. He looked from Carrol to Michael and back again, his face a study in frustration and barely controlled anger. Pulling on his hat with a quick jerk, Gareth glared at Michael before he spat out a string of oaths as he headed for the back door.

“Gareth, please wait,” Carrol called out to him.

“For what purpose?” Gareth snapped. “A man knows when he is outranked.”

“It is not that,” she said. She hurried to him and touched his arm in appeal. “You are not outranked.”

“No? Then would you like to explain to me, why an istay Earthian can presume to plead his case for your heart, while I must remain silent? If that is not being outranked, then what is?” He forgot that Michael wore a translator and understood every word. “Not a day goes by that I do not struggle just to win an unguarded glance from your lovely eyes, while this boy speaks however he may to you! If I could own a piece of land, would that perhaps make me of some worth?”

“You are not being fair,” she protested. “I never denied you my glance or my heart. I do not care if you own but a stone.”

“Well, it is not up to us, is it?” Gareth remarked. “But I suppose it is safer to keep my mouth shut and say nothing about his embraces, lest I cause us all to be cast out.” He went on out to the barn. Carrol wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeves before she turned to the stove. Michael saw the misery plainly written on her face.

“(Is that it)?” Michael asked. “(You are putting up with me and my clumsy come-ons because you are still afraid of what I would do if you rejected me)?”

She was alarmed to realize he understood the conversation. She put the scrambled eggs in a bowl and set them on the table before she turned to him. “We are well aware of our uncertain position on your world,” Carrol said shakily. “I do not know how to explain without risking harm to your feelings or jeopardizing our mission. I am at a complete loss.”

“(No, no, you are not jeopardizing anything)!” Michael protested. He took her hands in his. “(I mean who am I, anyway? I am just a guy with a little old farm; I am nobody powerful. All I have done is give you a place to stay and it has nothing to do with how you react to me, Carrol. If you are not attracted to me, then all is well! Just tell me so and I will back off. I told you before, I would never dream of kicking you guys out of here just because my ego’s been sacked. Honey, do not be so upset).”

“What is wrong?” Stuart asked as he entered the kitchen with a worried look on his face.

“(Nothing, just a big misunderstanding that is getting cleared up),” Michael assured him. He put a hand under Carrol’s chin and coaxed her to look at him. “(Maybe you ought to go out and talk to your friend. I would not blame him a bit if he came back in here and flattened me. Of course, you do not have to tell him that).” Carrol smiled shakily. She got her coat and left for the barn.

Michael sighed and poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. “(You have a beautiful sister, Stuart),” he told the prince, who stood by silently. “(But as God is my witness, I never intended for her to believe that you all are living here conditionally. Sure, I would be happy as a clam if she were interested in me, but she is not and it is like I told her, that is okay).”

“There was a time, Michael, when Carrol was put in such a position with a Scodan chieftain,” Stuart explained as he watched his sister go to the barn. “It was very trying for Carrol to walk the delicate balance between keeping peace with the Scodan and keeping him at bay. Father was furious when he discovered what the chieftain had in mind – he called it extortion of the vilest kind – and Maranta Shanaugh was beside himself.” Stuart let out a sharp sigh. “Of course, now I know just why he was so beside himself; he and Carrol were secret lovers, and he was not at all happy to see her in such a precarious position.”

“(What did he do)?”

“He stormed in with his men and scooped her up under the cover of darkness. Maranta was not the kind of man a Scodan wants to wage war against, and they did not pursue it.”

Michael sipped his coffee, and then nodded toward the barn. “(Did you say once that this Gareth fellow fought for her in a dual)?”

“Yes, he did.”

“(And he worked for this General Shanaugh at one time)?”

“Yes. Gareth was his chief mechanic, as well as a numbered kinsman.”

“(A what)?”

“I believe he is a tenth or twelfth cousin to our late general.”

“(Jeez. I think I just dodged a bullet),” Michael said with a smile. “(He was pretty mad when he left. Why is he not allowed to date her)?”

“To –? Oh. It is long and complicated, but essentially, he is a commoner whose approach to my sister was seen as unorthodox and unseemly to our Elders. My parents like his honesty and directness as do I.”

“(Then why not loosen up here? Or is one of your scouts an Elder)?”

“No, but it is a little more complicated than that.”

“(Does it have to be)?”

Stuart thought for a moment. “No, it does not have to be,” he said softly.

Gareth furiously banged on a piece of metal with a shaping hammer. Covering her ears, Carrol went to his side. He stopped and looked at her.

“What?” he asked.

“Why are you angry at me?” she asked.

“I am not. I am just angry, period. Can I not still get angry? Is it against some ancient royal custom that I cannot be jealous?”

“No,” she said. She removed the hammer from his hand and stroked his hand tenderly. “It is flattering.”

“What good does it do,” he muttered.

“We are not in danger of any retaliation,” she told him. “Michael assured me the mission is not endangered by my turning him away.”

“Oh? You did not admit you are attracted to him?” Gareth muttered.

“What are you saying, why should I admit to something that is not so? What has gotten into you? Gareth.” She reached under his collar to fish out the knotted scarf. “Do you have any idea what this means to me?”

“No. What does it mean?” he asked as his belligerence faded.

“It means everything. No one, certainly not an outlander, has command of my attentions and affection as you.” With a tug of the scarf, she drew him closer. “The day you took that out of its drawer and put it around your neck sealed your fate with me, Master Sword and Fist.”

“The day you put it around my neck in the Freen was your undoing,” Gareth said. “I hoped you would not come back looking for it. It gave me comfort. I cannot explain, except this way.” He gathered her in his arms, and they kissed, their frosty breath enveloping them in mist. “I did not always used to be such a quarrelsome jealous fool, you know. I do not wish to be.”

“I am not trying to make you one, either,” she assured him. “Let us go back inside where it is warm. My feet are beginning to numb.” They returned to the house where the rest of the scouts were eating breakfast.

Michael Sheldon prepared to leave. “(My parents were pretty testy about my spending so much time and energy out here, and they expect me to be home at Christmas. If I am not, then my dad will be out here to find out why and God knows what he will do when he sees the ships and whatnot. I will be back out when I can).” He hesitated and then held out his hand to Gareth. “(No hard feelings)?” he asked.

Gareth shook his hand. “No,” he answered.

With a wave of his hand, Michael went out the door. “(You will really enjoy Christmas),” he told them as he left.

“What hard feelings?” Glendon asked Gareth. “What was all that about?”

“It was about two points past your need to know,” Gareth replied, and the others whooped at his comeback.

“Doe not mess about with Major Sword and Fist,” Darien laughed, using the way the universal translator identified the Earthian contraction.