A TALE OF BROTHERS

— by Jeff Karamales

Chapter 1
 

The single ice cube clicked against the heavy glass tumbler as Alistair Gordon set it on the plastic laminated bar top and motioned the bartender over for a refill, so distracted that he didn’t care that the scotch that was poured was a lower end blended brand and not his normal quality, single malt. As soon as the bottle was pulled away the human lifted the glass, draining it in a single swallow, the burn of the alcohol helping to hold the lump that wanted to form in his throat at bay.

  “You might want to slow down a little,” the bartender commented in a friendly tone, actually getting the man to look up for a moment before she pulled back at the raw, unhindered turmoil that smoldered in his eyes before the human pointed at his tumbler.

  “Not bloody likely,” Alistair mumbled. “Jus’ keep ‘em comin’ ‘til I hit the floor.” He watched as the bottle was tipped once more and nodded. “Thanks, lass.” Just like the four drinks before, the amber liquid was consumed in a single gulp. “Mebbe ye should jus’ leave the bottle.”

  “I would, but I have this strange little quirk that makes me feel responsible for my customers.”

  Alistair nodded as he looked into the deep, chocolate brown eyes of the canine fur that regarded him and nodded. “I kin understand that. Ye think ye could keep them comin’, though? It’s been a wee bit of a difficult day, don’t ye know.”

  The Samoyed smiled. “Tell you what. My shift ends in a little less than half an hour. Why don’t you switch to something a little less potent and I promise that when I clock out I’ll come over and help keep an eye on you. Then you can also tell me why you’re wearing a skirt!” she added with a wink, trying to cheer the obviously distressed human a little.

  “It’s a kilt, dearie. Tha’ there’s the Tartan of me Clan. Gordon and proud, I tell ye.”

  The Samoyed smiled toothily and put a paw on the man’s arm even as she added a little more to his glass. “I know. I spent a little time on Earth. I couldn’t resist teasing you. Sorry.”

  Alistair shook his head and rubbed at his face with the hand that wasn’t gripping the glass so tight that his knuckles were mottled. “Nae. Don’ mind me, lass. It truly has been a difficult day.” As he lowered his hand, he regarded his drink, looking at the way the subdue lighting from the bar sparkled in the dark amber liquid and the rapidly diminishing chunk of ice. As his mind wandered he became less aware of the passage of time and looked up only when the stool next to him was moved closer and the Samoyed gracefully took a seat.

“So, a bad day, huh? You know, us bartenders are pretty good at listening if you’d like to vent a little,” the female said softly, a glass of wine in her paw. “Even if you don’t, the least I can do is make sure you get to where you need to go instead of the police picking you up so you can dry out. They aren’t too bad here in Grandstorm. The cops will even take you to your motel if you have one that you’re checked in to.”

  Alistair opened his mouth to politely decline her offer before pausing, realizing that he really didn’t want to be alone at the moment. “Tha’s a fair offer ye be makin’, tha’ is. Truth be tol’ I’m a’waitin’ on me friends.”

  Smiling broadly, the Samoyed slipped her arm through the human's and tilted her head to a booth. “C’mon. A booth will be a bit more comfortable and a whole lot safer. I don’t think I’ve ever had a customer that fell out of a booth! You can wait for your friends there.”

  “Yer idea has merit, lass,” the man agreed, letting himself be guided and sighing when the female slipped in across from him. “Och, this truly is better. An’ the guidin’ hand was appreciated. I’m Cap’n Gordon, though ye kin call me Alistair. It’s what me friends be addressin’ me as, an’ to be helping an old drunk, yer bein’ a friend.”

  “Captain, huh? Well Captain, I’m Nadia. And you might be drunk, but you aren’t that old!” the Samoyed said with a short laugh that was high and clear. Her mirth cleared after a moment and she regarded the man carefully. “So what’s happened that has you so down, Alistair? Was today really so bad that you have to try and embalming yourself?”

  The human nodded. “T’was. Brought me ship half way ‘cross Known Space fer today. I…I came to bury the bes’ friend I ever had. Him and his wife both…”

  Nadia put her paw to her muzzle as her eyes widened. “By the Maker!” she whispered. “Alistair…I…I’m so sorry. If I’d known I wouldn’t have teased you!”

“Nae. Ye couldnae ha’ known, dearie. As I said, it’s been a rough day.”

  Both sat silent for several long, uncomfortable moments before the Samoyed spoke. “I…I don’t have a lot of friends, and my family’s all back on Kantus. I don’t think I have any friends that would travel to the next city if something like that happened to me.” Nadia snorted derisively. “I don’t think many of my family members would, either.”

  The man nodded. “Tha’s the way of it, sometimes. Every so often ye meet a person that…well, they jus’ make all the difference in the universe, ye know? My friend was like tha’. Special. Upstandin’ fox, he was. An’ righ’ honorable. A real hero, too. Kind of fella tha’ made you try to be better’n ye was.” Alistair sighed and seemed to deflate a little as he stared at the table with reddened eyes.“His wife…she was bein’ the same. The lass could make any one o’ us feel like we were bein’ like family. T’was a talent she had in spades.”

  As he thought of the two friends he’d said good-bye to, a single tear rolled unabashedly down the man’s cheek while he began smiling warmly. It was enough to pique Nadia’s curiosity. “Sounds like you cared deeply for them.”

  “Elias was like me brother. Granted, he was a might furrier than I am, and I think everyone that met her was half in love wi’ his mate, meself included, but they were bein’ some o’ the best folk I e’er met.” Alistair smiled again and idly played with the almost nonexistent ice cube in his drink. “How long ye been on Dennier, lass?”

  The Samoyed shrugged. “A while. I took this job when my contract for the cruise line I worked for ran out. I guess two years now, or close to it.”

  “Och, then ye wouldnae be remembering the day tha’ a ship called the Scimitar went down in the sea, would ye?” He watched as the female shook her head while sipping from her glass, her pink tongue flicking out to wick away the red liquid from her thin, black lips. “Well, surely ye know of the big fight in the Van Connor an’ the smashin’ o’ Ganlin’s Legion?”

  “Who doesn’t! That happened my last year of school before I turned eighteen and left home. It was all over the Net and different news programs. I know a lot of us felt a lot safer after that.”

“Ain’ tha’ the truth of it. Well, my friend was the one tha’ led the fight. As brave a soul as you can imagine, e’en went in with th’ troops to rescue wha’ civvies they could.” Alistair smiled sadly and hefted his tumbler. “To Elias Tivnan and his wife Cerise,” he said and drained the tumbler, setting it down on the table with a dull thunk. “Awrigh’…mebbe ye should motion tae yer frien’ behindth’ bar tha’ I need some coffee. ‘Bout had me fill o’ hard drink and spirits ferth’ moment…”

  Nadia grinned and slipped from the bench. “I’ll get it. Then when I come back you can tell me all about your friend.”

  “Ye know, I think I’d like tha’.” Alistair watched the dog saunter back over to the bar, reaching over the surface to hook a mug with her short, white furred finger then snag an urn full of steaming, black brew. The view was rather enticing, but the normally affectionate man didn’t feel the urge to act in his normal carefree, or occasionally brazen, manner that he exhibited with most females, regardless of their species. If anything, Alistair was simply glad for the company while he ached in his heart and grieved for his friends.

  “Here you go,” Nadia said gently as she placed the mug before the man, resuming her seat, though she leaned forward with her elbows on the table, obviously interested in the tale that she’d been promised.

  A splash of milk was all the doctoring that Alistair wanted and took an appreciative sip, smiling as the souring taste of blended scotch was washed from his tongue. “Tha’s better. Now, ‘fore I get intae me story, ye should know it’s a right long tellin’. We may be here for a wee bit.”

  “That’s okay,” Nadia said with a friendly smile as her claw tips brushed the man’s arm through the jacket he wore. “I like long stories and have all the time you need. Besides, I think I really want to hear this.” She didn’t seem put out when the human pulled away and leaned back, looking into his mug.

  “Fair ‘nough, lass, though ye been warned.”

— NEXT CHAPTER —

Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved.