Galaxy's Edge Magazine: Issue 3, July 2013 (3 page)

***

King Kong
(1933). I know some people consider King Kong a science fiction film rather than a fantasy, but they are people who never heard of the square-cube law, and haven’t figured out what all these multi-ton carnivorous dinosaurs found to eat on that tiny island. It’s a fantasy through-and-through, and it ends with one of the half-dozen classic lines in film history, right up there with “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” and “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” “It was beauty killed the beast” takes a back seat to none of them. Yeah, the special effects were a little shaky, but I’ve yet to hear anyone call either of the remakes a classic.

***

It’s a Wonderful Life
(1946). This Frank Capra film is probably (and by far) the most-watched black-and-white fantasy in history. George Bailey, after a life of doing good deeds for others, is dead broke and has all kinds of problems, and decides to end it all. His bumbling guardian angel beseeches him not to. George mutters that he wishes he’d never been born. The angel shows him what the lives of all the people he’s helped, all the people who love him, would be like if indeed he never had been born. Totally moved, George pleads for his life back, rushes home to the town and family he loves, and finds that they—and life—are repaying him on this Christmas Eve.

***

The best of them all might be
Harvey
(1950), about a (probably) imaginary 6-foot-tall rabbit that (possibly) only a mildly pixilated James Stewart can see. His addle-pated sister, an Oscar-winning performance by Josephine Hull, can’t see him, but she knows he’s there. It’s a wonderful, frequently hilarious fantasy that’s as enjoyable today as when it was made 60+ years ago.

There are many more, of course. I haven’t even touched on the black-and-white fantasy musicals, which include
One Touch of Venus
(a riff on Thorne Smith’s
The Night Life of the Gods
with music by Kurt Weill);
I Married an Angel
(a wry, almost cynical Rodgers and Hart show);
Cabin in the Sky
(a delightful all-black musical); and more.

So the next time your kid says “Humphrey who?” or “Whoever heard of someone spelling her name ‘Bette’?” buy or rent him one of these black-and-white fantasies and show him what he’s been missing. And if you’re under 35 or 40, take a look yourself.

Who knows? You may discover a whole new interest.

***

And to close, another piece of fan mail from one of the masters of the field.

I've been really enjoying GALAXY'S EDGE. Well chosen stories, some old faves... & Barry's mordant incisive column is too true, so sad... and Mike's introduction is spot on--I'd even forgotten some of these stories!

(I too walked in on a nude Sturgeon.) The Randy Garrett I'd never heard!

Greg Benford

********************************************

A TOUR-DE-FORCE FROM A GRANDMASTER

“Broad, intriguing speculation on human evolution and
first contact”—
Publishers Weekly

Available as

Trade Paperback

Kindle Ebook

Nook Ebook

********************************************

Heidi Ruby Miller teaches Creative Writing at Seton Hall University, is the co-editor of the award-winning Many Genres, One Craft, and the author of the novel Ambasadora and many short stories.

--------------

THE ISLANDS OF HOPE

by Heidi Ruby Miller

“Where did he come from?” Finn asked, pulling at the knots in his peppered beard. “Men don’t just appear on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”

Julian stared up at the crow’s nest of the
Ixchel
. “His name’s Kami. He came with the ship.” He wiped his nose on his wet sleeve. “Or so says the captain.”

“Over a month at sea and adrift in the Horse Latitudes, with barely a half ration each to last us until Sunday,” Vernor said. “And yesterday another mouth appears on board?”

“Just where has this Chinaman been hiding since we left York Island?” Finn asked.

Julian would give his left foot just so his right one could touch York Island again with all its sabal palms and white sand. He never paid it much mind except as one half of the tobacco run to St. Clair. That run was never meant to take them so far north into these windless seas.

“He’s been in the captain’s cabin, I’ll wager,” Vernor said, “wearing frilly things and bending over the captain’s chair.” His raspy laugh and exaggerated hip thrusts pulled Kami’s attention from his spot high upon the mast.

Julian’s old spot.

“Quiet. The captain won’t take kindly to gossip,” Julian said. “And Kami’s no Chinaman. He’s from islands farther out.”

“I don’t care where he’s from,” Finn said. “He’s not eating any more of my share.” He pulled a small knife from a sheath around his bulging waist. “I’ll cut off that pretty black braid with the rest of his head.”

“Put that away before you start a panic.” Julian glanced around the deck for prying eyes.

“Always the captain’s lap dog,” Finn said. “Maybe it’s you who’s bending over that chair.”

“I’ll bet he does at that.” Vernor’s smile revealed his three remaining teeth.

“Just watch yourselves,” Julian said.

The small threat held enough weight to make Finn sheathe his knife and walk away.

Julian passed below deck to the captain’s door. The smell of incense meant there’d be no meeting with the captain today, but Julian knocked anyway.

Shuffling filtered from under the weathered teak, but no other response followed.

Rubbish. Knew you would be. Your uncle knew it too. Why he gave you the worthless York Island Run.

Julian pounded a second time, frustrating memories strengthening his blows. The
Ixchel
should have been his command, but the fleet owner chose his incompetent nephew at the last minute. Julian suspected their new captain needed to flee York Island in a hurry, but never passed that along to the crew.

“Captain. I need to talk to you.”

Glass shattered against the inside of the door.

“Two more islands gone,” the captain yelled. “You hear me? Two more!”

“Fine,” Julian yelled. “I’ll just let them mutiny.”

He shouldered his way to the galley to be sure the rations were distributed fairly. The captain’s job, except the captain wasn’t quite right anymore. Not since those five days in the Yucatan when the
Ixchel
made her maiden voyage
.
“He should have stuck with his merchant run. Pirating’s not in his blood. Doesn’t have the stomach for it.” Julian spit.

Yet I followed him for the promise of my own ship.

Hungry crew met Julian—their stomachs grumbling louder than their complaints. A squabble broke out among the three sailors nearest Julian. One crewman shoved another onto the rations table. The downed man pulled a rusty dagger. Encouraging shouts reached deafening heights in the small area.

Julian cocked his pistol in the man’s ear. “Back of the line for you! All three of you.”

To the rest of the crew he yelled, “Any more problems and no one eats.” A little risky and impulsive, especially with this half-starved lot, but some type of authority had to be maintained in the captain’s absence.

Each day the men pushed a little further. Each day they took longer to back down. One day they wouldn’t at all, especially if they found out Julian had been holding back food for the captain and Kami. He could let them starve, but even a rattled captain and a stowaway deserved to eat. And there was something about Kami, something that stirred a kinship in Julian.

Day and night in the crow’s nest. Reminds me of me.

***

Julian shoved a sack with two rations of pickled beets and jerky into his coat. He jiggled the iron key in the galley’s lock until it clicked. The lock was the captain’s last sane order before he holed up in his cabin.

Just before Kami came.

Back on deck the calm of a breezeless night renewed Julian’s dread. A gibbous moon shone on a glass sea. The water looked like dark ice or obsidian, its surface so smooth and flawless. So dead.

Julian chanced a look up at the crow’s nest. Kami wasn’t there. Fingers of apprehension crawled up Julian’s spine. He pictured an albatross flying away just before disaster struck.

He’s probably just with the captain’s all. Nothing to worry about.

At least Julian would have his spot back for a bit. He grasped the rope ladder. It felt good to stretch his arms and legs, to rise above the blackness of the ship.

“You haven’t been up here in a while.” Kami spoke English with a Derbyshire accent. He sat cross-legged, a difficult feat in the confined wooden tub.

The words stopped Julian at the top.

“You been watching me?” Julian asked.

“Like you’ve been watching me,” Kami said.

Julian held tight to the rope ladder. “Everyone’s been watching you. Seeing as how you just showed up and all.”

The moon reflected a thousand times over in all the folds and wrinkles of Kami’s black robe. He looked fresh and clean with gleaming white skin—the only one on the ship who was so presentable and smelled so good.

“You used to talk to the mast all the time,” Kami said. “Now you don’t.” Kami never looked at Julian.

“You make me sound drunk or not right in the head.”
Like the captain.

“I just talk out loud. To the wind, to the heavens, maybe.” Julian’s tongue became heavy and thick in his mouth. “And just how do you know what I do?”

“I heard you.” Kami said. You like it up here because it reminds you of climbing trees during your childhood in Derbyshire. No sea there, just daydreams of one.”

How many others had heard Julian’s lonely ramblings? Could be why his authority waned recently. As though that lot cared about anything but food and fresh water right now.

“When the time comes, I’ll take you to my home, my islands,” Kami said, “if you wish. You won’t be able to leave until the builders come for you, though. Like they came for me.”

Goose bumps rose on Julian’s arms.

“Sorry, mate. I’ll not be going anywhere with you. Lunatic.” He scampered down the ladder on trembling limbs, still carrying the rations.

***

Julian twisted in his hammock to get a better position, not that sleep would come anyway. A scrape in the hallway made him hold his breath.

“Stupid.” Finn’s voice. “Be quiet. Do you want to wake the whole damn ship?”

“What if someone finds out?” Vernor’s raspy baritone.

“We chuck the body overboard and no one’s the wiser. And we’ll have one less mouth around here.”

“When?”

Finn’s reply was lost as the two men moved away.

Julian grabbed his pistol and crept into the hallway. Empty. He headed to the captain’s cabin. Smoke drifted from under the door. Banging got no response. Julian fumbled with the ring of keys he carried on him at all times.

I’ve respected your privacy, but it’s time you did something.

The lock clicked, and Julian shoved the captain’s door open. Sweet smoke fogged the small cabin. In the middle of the floor sat the captain, his clothes ripped and soiled and hanging from his gaunt frame like the rags they used to swab the deck. A hodgepodge of containers encircled him—a silver pitcher from Taxco, a jeweled goblet from England, several carved wooden bowls from St. Clair, all shoved full of burning incense.

“Captain.”

The man sitting on the floor showed no signs of noticing his mate. He smacked his hand to his forehead repeatedly, then studied his palm as though divining his fortune.

I’ll save you the trouble. It’s bad.

Julian crouched beside him and coughed in the smoky haze. “Captain. Finn and Vernor are plan—”

“Do you smell it?” the captain said.

“What?”

“The copal. The incense. It protects me.” The captain grabbed a bowl, breathed deeply, then offered it to Julian.

“Captain! Finn and Vernor are going to kill Kami. I don’t know when, but soon.”

“Kill Kami?” The captain laughed and offered the copal again. When Julian refused, the captain hurled the bowl across the cabin, spreading ash and smoldering incense over the wooden floor. “Ha! Can’t kill Kami. We’re the ones who’ll be dead soon.”

The captain shoved his bearded face close to Julian’s. His breath smelled sweet like the copal. “When Kami comes, Death waits. That’s what they told me.”

“
They
who?”

The captain crawled past Julian and pulled himself up to his chart table. “Mayan shamans,” he said. “They promised me the copal would keep Kami away from the
Ixchel
. Said the sap’s sweetness would hide me from the builders.”

Builders
. Julian grew cold at the name. Kami had mentioned them. “You’re talking nonsense.” He made for the door.

Superstitious bastard.
Julian would handle Finn and Vernor on his own.

Something struck his shoulder from behind. The silver pitcher fell to the floor at his feet. He spun, ready to deflect any other objects.

“See this?” The captain stood behind him, stabbing a finger at a chart.

Julian took the pale parchment and scanned it. A layout of their course snaked in black across the chart to open sea. Someone had scrawled
Islands of Hope
at the line’s end.

“What are these islands?” Julian asked.

“They’re the Islands of Hope, Kami’s home.”

“Are they nearby?” Julian hadn’t heard of them before, but new islands were being discovered and added to the charts every year.

“Hope is always near.” The captain flopped in his chair. “But it fades…like the islands. When we first set sail there were thirty. Now….”

Julian ran his hands over the smooth paper, trying to understand the captain’s ravings. “There are only five here.”

While Julian watched, another island faded until disappearing completely. He tossed the chart onto the floor.

“It’s coming,” the captain said.

“What’s com—”

The captain held the revolver to his head and pulled the trigger.

Julian jumped back as the body toppled out of the chair. His hands shook as he pushed the captain to his back. Half of his head decorated the wooden bed frame.

A sudden shift in the ship sent Julian sliding across the cabin. He slammed into the far wall, dislodging a candle sconce. The captain’s body rolled toward him. Julian shoved his foot out to stop it from crashing into him.

Even then his gaze fell upon the chart resting near his other foot. One island remained and its edges were fading.

Shouts from the deck above charged his fear-numbed limbs. A howling wind swept down the stairs.

Wind!

Salt stung Julian’s eyes as he shoved against the torrent of rain and sea spray on deck. Men shouted to one another to secure lines or grappled with loose objects sliding along the teak surface. A giant wave washed up on starboard. On its way back to the sea, it took four men with it. The winds battered the ship with such a ferocity, it was as though they were pent-up animals, waiting to unleash after these three weeks.

Julian put his weight into controlling the flapping mainsail. A gust jerked the rope from his burning hands. A piece of the rigging crashed to the deck, its pulley punching through to the floor below. Another large pulley felled Finn. Julian shielded his eyes and looked up in anticipation of more debris.

Kami looked down at Julian from the crow’s nest. In the lightning he glimpsed Kami’s face, white and smiling…with hope.

“Take me.” The thrashing ocean drowned Julian’s words. “Take me!”

In the next lightning flash Kami stood beside Julian.