Sci-Fi fantasy from an unknown author
Amaranth Rose 002
Chapter 1, Part 2— Meet Black Nick
Part 1 can be found here: https://gjsittler.medium.com/amaranth-rose-001-5160fe9dab9c
The entire series is listed here: https://gjsittler.medium.com/list/this-mortal-coil-081bdde292a6
After a turbulent, pilot-engineered landing, Stan and Debbie meet Nick and disembark from the shuttle.
He took the bag from her and sealed it, placing it where he expected the crew would find it, but none too soon. Stan believed in fair repayment of just debts. Debbie stood up unsteadily, wavering slightly, and he put his arm around her.
“Here, dear, take it easy.” Stan shouldered their carry-on bags and helped her toward the exit door, which opened abruptly while they were still some distance away. A tall, tanned, well-built young man, dressed from head to foot in black, stepped in and looked around. His elegant, patrician features topped a tanned, lean body that would have served well as a model for some ancient Greek God. Hard, strong muscles rippled beneath the material of his black shirt as he turned around slowly, searching the passenger hold.
For looks, the young man surpassed the classical definition of “very attractive” at a dead run, Stan thought; “breathtakingly beautiful” in the classical sense of the word came to mind. He was approximately Stan’s height; at somewhat more than six feet, he was nearly a foot taller than Debbie. He’d have made a good spokesperson for “Fitness R Us”, Stan thought as he studied him.
“Doctor Duvarnos?” he asked when he spotted them. His voice was rich and deep, with a warm, melodious quality to it. “Konstantin Duvarnos? The Metallurgist?”
The older man nodded. They shook hands.
“Welcome to Raznack, Dr. Duvarnos.”
“Most people call me Stan,” he said.
The young bronze god’s eyes slid to Debbie then.
“And who might this be?”
“Meet my daughter, Deborah. She’s a Polymer Chemist. She’s also Dr. Duvarnos. Most folks call her Debbie.”
The handsome young man looked at her for a long moment, surveying her pert, trim figure, emerald green eyes, and vivid red hair that hung luxuriously to her waist in waves and ringlets. In the dim light her skin had a pale, almost translucent appearance, reminiscent of rare porcelain. Her navy blue skirt hung demurely mid-calf, and her snowy white long-sleeved blouse hinted at her narrow waist and slender arms as it contrasted with her pale, almost luminous complexion.
“I’d call her stunning,” he said admiringly. They shook hands, and then he took her hand in his and kissed the back of it gently, bowing slightly as he did so.
“May I welcome you to Raznack, My Lady? I hope you enjoy your stay very much. I shall personally endeavor to see that you do.” His deep cornflower blue eyes gazed into hers. “We seldom see such loveliness and charm upon our sun-drenched world.” He released her hand gently; his eyes still grazed appreciatively over her.
“I’m Nick. I’ll be your driver today. We’d best get going, we have a long way to go, and since Raznack has very little in the way of automated transportation, we’ll be traveling by horse-drawn coach. With any luck we’ll get to Castle Royal before it rains. Do you have any other baggage?” he asked, surveying their hand luggage.
“Two cases and two trunks of instruments in the cargo hold, if they haven’t been bounced to pieces,” Stan replied.
“Had a rough shuttle trip, did you?” His eyes strayed to Deborah, noting her tense stature.
Stan nodded sharply.
“A dozen bounces on the way in and a lot of man-made ‘turbulence’,” he noted grimly, “on a beautiful clear day. Not my idea of a graceful landing. It was quite a contrast after the trip on the Avis Nobilis. Captain Moiner runs a very tight ship. He and his crew couldn’t have treated us better. I’ve never had a better trip on a quantum ship, and that’s saying a lot.”
“I have to apologize for that. There’s a certain amount of divisiveness about your presence here, Doctor. Some people wear their politics pretty close to their skin. I’ll fill you in on the way. We’ll have plenty of time.” Nick retrieved their luggage from the hold.
Stan nodded. It was a situation he’d encountered before. He was beginning to regret bringing Deborah on this trip. The last thing she needed right now was to be constantly upset.
Stan checked the contents of the cases carefully. Luckily, they had been well secured and the precious contents seemed undamaged. Nick piled their belongings on a handsomely made wooden cart that he pulled along as he led them through the cavernous depths of the spaceport.
Even the wheels were made of the same dark wood, with a rubber rim to let it run smoothly, Debbie noted as she followed along behind Nick. Finally they approached the end of a corridor. Its glassed-in façade glowed like a brilliant beacon.
“You did take the treatments we sent to make your skin more resistant to the solar radiation, I presume?” Nick asked as they strolled down the long, cavernous corridor.
“Yes,” Stan said. “I’m not sure the treatments weren’t worse than the problem.”
“Well, Tintor and Vigel together can burn a person badly if they’re not prepared. I brought along some sun block cream just in case. He paused and waited as they applied the thick lotion to their exposed parts. Then they continued toward the exit.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled out two pairs of wide sun visors. They were very deeply tinted.
“These are for you. Don’t go outside without them. The twin suns together are very bright; separately each is still formidable. Either Tintor or Vigel can give you a bad case of sun-blindness, and if you are out without protection long enough it can be permanent.”
“I see you don’t have any shades, Nick. Why is that?”
He looked at her and smiled somewhat self-consciously.
“I’m a native Raznackai, Dr. Duvarnos. My people were engineered for this planet. We have two sets of irises, one sensitive to the spectrum from Tintor, the other to Vigel. They contract and expand accordingly.”
They were approaching the exit doors and she noticed his eyes were now a deep violet color.
“Interesting,” she remarked.
He caught her eyes on him and smiled at her, making him look even more handsome, if that were possible. Her heart gave a funny little skip, and she stumbled slightly. He caught her elbow gently, steadying her. She flinched away from his touch slightly and blushed faintly.
“You two had better put on your shades,” Nick warned them. “The shuttle windows are deeply tinted, and the spaceport is designed to give your eyes time to adjust before you go outside. One thing we have in great abundance on Raznack is solar energy. We don’t have much of anything else, really, but that’s where we’re hoping you can help us.” He looked at Stan.
“I’m a Metallurgist, not a miracle worker,” he said slowly.
Debbie harrumphed.
“Daddy, I’ve seen you make metal out of seawater. Knock off the excess modesty.”
Nick looked at him with heightened interest.
“We’ve got lots of seawater on Raznack. And we sure could use more metal.” He pointed to the handsome wooden luggage cart he was pulling. “We make almost everything from natural materials. It’s hard to justify using a huge mass of metal for an internal combustion engine. We have a few motorized vehicles, fire equipment, aircraft and the like, but they are kept for emergencies. We use animal power for the most part.”
He led them outside. In the clear blue sky the suns, Vigel, large and blue, and Tintor, small and fiery red, blazed down fiercely. An open carriage was waiting, drawn by six cream colored horses hitched three abreast, their faces marked with a white blaze. A man in the uniform of a spaceport employee was standing in front of them, holding the reins. In the short walk to the carriage Stan and Debbie found themselves covered in sweat. As Nick stowed their luggage in the baggage compartment of the carriage, Debbie looked at the horses. She stepped closer for a better look.
“Don’t get too close,” Nick warned. “They’re curious about strangers, and they’re likely to take a taste-test. They like the taste of the salt on your skin.”
As if on cue, the horse nearest her reached out and licked her hand. He seemed to like what he got, as he tried again. She drew back out of his reach.
“Shadow,” Nick called reproachfully. “Don’t taste the wares.”
The horse snorted softly and bent his head as if ashamed. Nick smiled indulgently.
“Can’t say as I blame you, Shadow. I think she looks good enough to eat, too.” He finished stowing their gear and came around to the horses’ heads.
“Allow me to introduce you to your transportation today,” he said somewhat ostentatiously. He pointed to each horse as he called its name. “Silver, Mist, Shadow, Steam, Storm, and Winter. And there are two spares, Snow and Fog, at home.”
Stan admired them.
“You must have gone through a huge herd to get a team of six so well matched.”
“They’re not just well matched, Dr. Duvarnos,” Nick said, smiling. “They’re perfectly matched. They’re all identical.”
Stan looked at him, his eyes widening at the implications.
“Yes, Dr. Duvarnos. They’re clones.”
“I thought cloning was, er, frowned upon,” Stan said slowly.
“On every other planet in the universe, it is. On Raznack it’s a way of survival. When my ancestors landed on Raznack and discovered the planet they’d been exiled to, they did the thing that seemed most logical to them. They carved homes deep in native stone and beat their starships into Trebla cylinders, vowing to survive in spite of the radiation. It was an uphill battle, but they overcame in the end. Raznack is the only planet known where star-faring people did not lose their technology and descend into barbarism before rediscovering space travel. Our technology was essential to our survival. After all these thousands of years the population has finally reached a critical point. Things must change. Raznack is at a crossroads. We must decide upon a direction, and move toward it.” He sighed deeply, the sound of a man with many cares in his heart.
“It’s a difficult decision. There are some who think we should do away with cloning altogether. I don’t think that will ever be possible, in reality, because of the radiation. Cloning is pretty much essential to life on Raznack. It’s strictly regulated, though. We don’t clone animals often. But we do keep a perfectly matched team or two, to impress visiting dignitaries.” He smiled. “Shall we be going?”
Debbie turned her face away and swayed slightly. She moaned softly. Stan put his arm around her comfortingly.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“I think I’m going to be sick again,” she said quietly. Nick took her by the arm and led her to the grass just off the sidewalk where she was indeed sick. He handed her a kerchief.
“Shuttle ride was that rough, was it?” he asked. He touched her shoulder gently, intending to comfort her. He felt her stiffen and draw away; he frowned slightly. He was aware that where she came from people did not comfort one another freely, as they did on Raznack. Yet somehow, something about her just cried out to be comforted. Just beneath the prim, demure surface he sensed a need for comfort and reassurance that touched his sensitive heart.
She nodded, wiping at her sweat-drenched face.
“I’m sorry about that.” He put an arm around her shoulder, feeling her stiffen and withdraw like a skittish colt. Perhaps a little gentling might not hurt. He held on just a moment before releasing her. She drew back hastily, putting a step between them.
“Hugo is one of the group that thinks we shouldn’t change Raznack, we should keep it the way it is and not modernize or bring in innovation and progress. That ride was his way of expressing his opinion. I must apologize for him.”
He reached in his chest pocket and pulled out a small paper packet and shook out two small pills into his hand. He held them out to her.
“What are they?” she asked hesitantly.
“Motion sickness pills. I thought you might need them. The coach can rock and sway a bit too. Dr. Duvarnos?”
Stan shook his head.
“No thanks, Nick, I’m fine now.”
Nick opened a cabinet and produced a bottle of water and a cup. The pills would probably make her drowsy, but it wasn’t as if they had anything pressing that would require her alertness.
She took the pills.
“Thank you, Nick.” She settled on the bench seat in the back, which was roughly horseshoe shaped, with a high back that came above their heads when they were seated. It was padded with thick, luxuriously soft cushions encased in soft, buttery smooth leather.
“Oh, Daddy, look! Genuine leather upholstery. This is heaven after that awful shuttle!”
“Native Raznack Girtslanger hide. Nothing but the best!” Nick quipped, grinning.
Stan got in beside her, and Nick took the driver’s seat at the front. He nodded to the man holding the horses, and he stepped out of the way. Nick shook out the reins.
“Come, boys, step out. Time to show your stuff.” The horses stepped forward as one, and soon they were entering one of the major traffic streams of Raznack City. From time to time, people would greet Nick familiarly. He returned their greetings cheerily.
“Since you’re here, I may as well take you on a bargain basement tour of the city,” Nick said. “You might not get the chance, later, you never know.” He took them on a grand tour instead, pointing out various sites of interest, statuary, parks, and some of the more important businesses. His eyes strayed to Debbie frequently. When something seemed to take her interest he would stop the coach nearby to let her have a better look. On occasion they left the horses in the care of a handler and went inside some of the museums and shops. There was a row of food vendors on one street, and he stopped and bought them all something to eat. He drove to a park where they sat and ate in the shade of a thick-walled concrete shelter.
They shared the roads with an interesting variety of conveyances drawn by horses, cattle, sheep, goats and even a few dogs. At every intersection, vehicles would move aside and let them pass. Stan asked Nick about this.
“That’s our form of diplomatic courtesy,” he said. Another coach drew alongside, pulled by six sturdy chestnuts.
“Hey, Nick! Nick the Black!” the driver hailed. “How about a race? I bet I can beat you!”
“You must be feeling awfully lucky, Chan,” Nick said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m on business today. Paying customers.” He motioned to Stan and Debbie. The man looked in, surveying them critically.
“Woo hoo! Lucky you, Nicky boy!” Chan replied. “If you get tired of her keep me in mind. I could take good care of her for you. I promise I’ll bring her back just a little used. I’ll only nibble a little.” His ribald gaze and gesture gave no doubt as to how he intended to use her.
Stan gave the man a look that should have been fatal as Debbie winced and shrank into the cushions. Nick glanced at her; she was white as a sheet, and he thought she was trembling. He felt a spurt of annoyance at the younger man’s rudeness.
“You’d have to kill me first, Chan. They’re under my protection. Besides, she belongs to the old man. Leave her alone.” This last he said very forcefully.
“Aw, Nick, c’mon, man. Can’t you share? I gotta have just one little kiss!” Chan pouted playfully. He reached toward the coach Nick was driving. Suddenly Nick reached inside his shirt and in an instant a very lethal looking weapon was pointing straight at Chan’s chest.
“I said no, Chan,” he said quietly, in a cold tone. “Is it a good day to die, my friend?”
Chan immediately backed off, his hands at his shoulders, palms outwards in a universal gesture of surrender.
“Hey, hey, Black Nick, take it easy. I was only kidding, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was like that.”
They left the city at last, heading northward along a broad divided avenue.
“We’ll have to stop regularly to rest and water the horses,” Nick explained. “With any luck we’ll make it to Castle Royal before the storm comes. Otherwise we’ll have to stop and put up the top.” The top was a solid fiberglass cover made in four pieces that snapped together rapidly in the event of a storm. It was stowed in pockets on either side of the coach body.
As soon as they were free of city traffic Nick gave the horses their heads, and they galloped along for a few miles. Then he reined them in a bit to a steady distance-devouring pace. The horses knew their way home; he just kept scanning the horizons for any sign of traffic or outriders. He turned to look at his passengers. Debbie had fallen asleep, her head on her father’s shoulder, her hair streaming away from her face like liquid fire. He saw signs of strain on her face.
If the story so far has captured your attention, leave a response to encourage the publication of more installments. This is the second part of Chapter 1, of a 150,000 word novel, the first of a series of two full novels.
Part 3 is published here: https://gjsittler.medium.com/amaranth-rose-3-fec6fd9f08f7
NOTE: Comments and claps are encouragement to publish more. Since the author is deceased, there won’t be any edits, other than spelling or punctuation correction.
