Amish Vampires in Space (13 page)

Very odd. “What is she looking at?” he asked, finally.

The first woman looked at her companion, and then waved dismissively. “She’s a doctor. She’s used to staring at people. Sorry…I think she’s worried about your teeth.”

“Our teeth?”

The shorter women shrugged and took a couple of paces back. “Not as bad as I’d feared,” she said.

The first woman took a step down the ramp. A large man appeared at the door then. He had on a hat that looked heavy and hard. He stood quite tall and had a black object that Samuel thought was a weapon. The shape was different from those they used to hunt with, but the way it was held…looked dangerous. Next to him was another shorter man. Another mouse.

Samuel straightened himself. “So, you’ve come to invade us?” he said, nodding in the direction of the man with the weapon.

The lead female glanced back, looked irritated. “Put that away,” she said. “Back in the ship.”

“Security rules,” the man said.

“Fine, then
you
stay in the ship.”

“Ma’am, I need to be with you.”

She groaned. Shook her head. “Then leave the tarc in the ship. Their culture is pacifistic.”

“Ma’am?”

She looked at Samuel. “You don’t fight, right? Over anything.”

Samuel clutched his Bible. Nodded stiffly. “We are dissidents, true. But to yield often requires greater strength than merely to discharge a weapon.”

Mark was on his left. “We follow the teaching of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount: ‘But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.’”

The young lady smiled. Turned to the security officer. “See?”

He only shifted his stance and searched the area beyond the crowd of people. “There might be animals here who don’t share those feelings.”

At that, Samuel smiled. “An honest answer.” He raised a hand. “Let him bring the rifle. It won’t bother us.”

“Are you sure?” the young lady said.

She, at least, was respectful. Samuel could give her credit for that. She may be an instrument of the devil, but she was a polite instrument. He nodded.

She waved the other people forward and walked to the end of the ramp. “My name is Singer,” she said, smiling. “And we’ve come to rescue you.”

• • •

Jebediah couldn’t hide his surprise. It was nothing like he’d expected. These incredible contrivances. He’d heard stories as a child, but was it really possible? Could a man construct such a thing? He admired the work of woodworkers and blacksmiths, but these carriages…

It would take dozens of skilled craftsman to build even one. And even then, it would be infinitely heavy. How would it fly?

Jeb got to his feet. Walked to the end of the porch and stepped out into the grass. He shielded his eyes—mostly out of reflex, because the sky carriages didn’t glow. The sun did glint off of their blue surfaces somewhat.

Sarah joined him. “Is this what your machine brought?” she asked, looking frightened. “Are they here to fix our sun?”

His mouth was agape. “I don’t know. Could it be?” he asked. “But they make my machine look insignificant.” He looked at her. “Can you believe it? They float.” The nearest carriage seemed to stop midair and slowly start to descend. “Hover like a moth.” Jeb strode past the end of the house and turned toward the barn. He walked slowly, because he could barely keep his eyes from the craft.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked.

He pointed forward. “Going to get a horse. Going to see it.”

“And leave me?” She swept a hand toward the sky. “With all this?”

Jeb shook his head. “I don’t think they’re dangerous.” He pointed east. “It looks like they are stopping near the store. That’s where I want to go. Where I
should
go, if I’m responsible.”

Sarah’s hand was on her midsection again. “I’m worried,” she said. “Frightened. I don’t—” She looked at the ground. Shook her head. “Go on. I’ll pray for you. For all of us.”

His eyes never left the sky. “
Ya…gut
. I think that would be wise.”

• • •

Jebediah arrived to find three of the flying carriages parked in a line leading away from the front of the store. All had small groups of settlement onlookers around them, though everyone was keeping a safe distance. The children were the hardest to contain, of course. Mothers clutched young arms and shoulders, while admonishing to “Be patient” and “Watch from here.” The men were generally sober, with brows furrowed or hands stroking their beards.

Jeb felt more like the children.

All three vehicles were open on the end, with ramps leading into what appeared to be a large, blue room. At the end of that room was a door. Doubtless an entrance to where the craft’s controls were. He wondered if the controls were buttons and lights like the object in his barn. He guessed they were. Power contained within a simple container.

Each carriage had a handful of Englishers near the entrance. All were dressed in blue—modestly, he thought. These strangers looked nervous too. Lost. Out of their element.

Jeb saw the local smith, Daniel, standing with a hand on his chin. He was squinting hard at the nearest ship. Jeb approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What do you think, Daniel?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what to think. Such large sheets of material. No seams.” He shook his head. “It is a work of art, I tell you. Stirs my stomach to look at it.”

Jeb smiled. “But would you want to?” he asked. “Up close?”

Daniel snorted. “I’d probably be shunned just for thinking about it.”

Jeb laughed. Nodded toward the Englishers. “Has anyone talked with them? Found out what they want?”

Daniel indicated the sky carriage closest to the store. “I think the Bishop has. I often hear Samuel’s raised voice.”

Jebediah frowned. “Now
my
stomach is stirring…” He gave Daniel a closing nod and walked in the direction of the store. Many of the onlookers turned to look at him as he passed. A few acknowledged him with a nod, but most only watched. Weighing him. Everyone knew about his machine now. That he had held a forbidden fruit to his lips—and brought
this
down upon them all. Following his meeting with the pastors, all was to be forgiven. But it didn’t always go that way.

He reached the front vehicle. Bishop Samuel and Deacon Mark were standing with four of the Englishers—two men and two women. Samuel looked stoic, mindful. Not yelling now. Not upset. A good beginning. Mark noticed Jebediah’s approach but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even nod.

“This is the one who called you,” Samuel said then. “Jebediah Miller.” He made a swatting motion at Jeb. His hands went behind his back, holding his worn Bible. “Talk to him. Perhaps he’ll understand you. I’m through.”

The taller of the Englisher women turned Jeb’s way. Her clothes were wrinkle-free, perhaps heavily starched. Her hair was pulled back into a tail and covered by a hat. Her hands were also behind her back. She was accustomed to talking to men, he reasoned. Not as a helpmeet but as an equal.

She smiled at him. “Hello, I’m Crewmember Singer.” She introduced the others, making it clear she wasn’t just an equal but that she was, in fact, in charge. Jebediah noticed the larger man’s rifle, and that the smaller woman—whose facial features and skin tone were unknown to him—was also staring at him. Particularly at his mouth. “So you sent the signal?” Singer asked.

He assumed she meant the machine, the way it lit up. “I guess I did,” he said. “Though I didn’t realize that’s what the device did. Was that what it was for? To call you? I didn’t know.”

Deacon Mark was watching him, looking thoughtful. Weighing him. Jeb recalled a Bible verse: “‘Forgive them, they don’t know what they do.’” The Lord’s own admission that sometimes sin was unintentional.

But was still sin.

“It was good that you did,” Singer said. “Your sun is in an expansion stage. Its hydrogen is becoming depleted. It will soon become a red giant.”

“A red giant? You speak of fairy tales?”

Singer’s smile returned. “No, I mean your star. Your sun. It will continue to expand, becoming quite large. And dangerous.”

He looked in the direction of the sun, now low in the sky. A chill was already entering the air. Night was coming. And then morning. This was the cycle they were used to. The slow movement of the sun. He’d never imagined it could do anything else. It was unsettling. “How large, this giant?” he asked.

“Large enough to consume your entire world.” She brought her fingertips together. “To swallow it.”

Deacon Mark frowned. “As Jonah was consumed by the great fish,” he said, “when he ran from God.”

Singer smiled, turned to her colleagues. “That’s a story from the Bible,” she said. “A man swallowed by a whale.”

“It is more than a story,” Mark said. “It is a truth from our past. A revelation of God’s truth. Of His will, and the purpose of we as Christ-followers.”

Singer frowned. “Yes…well, the world won’t be spit out, in this case. It won’t be freed. It will be vaporized.”

The short man leaned forward. “More like hell, metaphorically-speaking.”

“Thanks, Foley,” Singer said, a bit of ice in her tone.

“Hell,” Mark repeated. “It is what all men deserve.”

“Yes,” Jeb said. “But God’s grace prevents.”

Mark bowed his head. “Amen to that. So it is.”

Singer looked between the two of them. “Now that we have that out of the way… I’ve been trying to explain to the others that we’ve come to remove your people from this planet.”

Jeb scanned the flying carriages. They were large, would doubtless hold many people. But their community was large, and there were other, smaller communities spread out across Alabaster. And they certainly wouldn’t all fit. “In only those carriages?” he said.

Singer smiled. “Our shuttles? Yes. Those will take you from the planet, but we have a larger carriage—a larger ship—overhead. A much larger craft. And we have time for multiple trips.”

“A
larger
ship?” Jeb said. “How much larger?”

“Thousands of times larger,” Foley said. “Large enough to hold hundreds of your communities. And your livestock.”

“Yes,” Singer said. “But we’ll need to limit the livestock. Just enough to begin again when we get you to your new environment.” She smiled brightly. “You’ll be pleased to know that another planet has already been allocated for you.”

She said it like a world was something one might trade for at the store. Something you could put in your pocket. “Incredible,” he said. “And you want to take us there? Across the heavens?”

She tipped her head. “That’s what we do, Jebediah. Do what you do—we’ll move you.”

“Samuel doesn’t approve,” Mark said, sighing. “This will have to be prayerfully discussed.”

Singer looked at Mark. “There will be no cost to you, of course. That has already been paid.”

Samuel drifted back toward them again. His lips still moved as if in prayer, though. Eyes partially closed.

“Already paid?” Mark said. “How is that possible?”

“An insurance policy,” Singer said. “From decades ago.”

“A covenant with Englishers.” Samuel frowned. “A lack of faith.”

Singer shook her head. “We have no record of that. Simply that the policy was paid.”

“A seed of promise planted long ago…” James murmured.

“We have community funds to cover needs that arise,” Mark said.

“Can we cover the sun?” Jeb asked mildly.

Samuel glared. “Nee, we cannot cover the sun,” he said. “No more than we can cover past sins.”

“They say the star is failing,” Jeb said. “That we need to leave.”

“It will have to be discussed,” Samuel said. “This poses great danger to our fellowship.”

Jeb looked at Singer. “But we’ll be together, right? We’ll move as a group.”

She nodded. “Absolutely. We have space on the ship already allocated. Time in the schedule.”

“The Lord’s schedule is His own,” Samuel said.

Singer glanced at her colleagues. Frowned. “We are ready whenever you are, of course. But our ship has other obligations. A schedule of its own to keep.” She nodded toward the heavens. “Plus, the star keeps its own schedule, as well. We aren’t precisely sure—”

Samuel nodded his head slowly. “It will be discussed.”

“Our community depends on this, Samuel,” Jeb said. “We need to leave or there will be no community. I know this in my heart.”

Samuel fixed him with a frown. “It will be discussed.”

• • •

It took Congi a moment to remember where he was. It was dark, cramped, confusing. When he tried to sit up, he hit his head, blindingly, on something above him. There was pressure against his back, against his hips. There was a glow somewhere to his right. A dim light. He turned his head, squinted, and finally located the source of the light. Stretching his hand toward it, he felt something smooth, something small. Then he recognized the shape. His handlight. He brought it up. Flashed it all around. Grimaced.

He was still inside the package! He was still nestled in the small makeshift passage that led from one portion of the package to the other. Ahead of him he thought he could see the abscess he had entered through.

Where’s my bag? He felt around until he found the bag’s smooth material an arm’s length in front of him.

He felt a little achy. A little foggy. But otherwise he felt good. Strong. He found a place where he could grip ahead, and he pulled hard. Objects gave way around him. Some of the pressure eased. He grunted, pushed with his toes a little, and pulled forward again. He slid cleanly ahead.

A touch of relief. He crawled until he was able to fully crouch within the entry abscess. He shook his head. Pulled the bag close. Gave it a shake to make sure things were still inside.

He wondered about the time. He found his com device. It was no longer signaling. No longer alerting him to Greels’s imminent arrival.

He checked the built-in clock. “That can’t be right.” He brought the device close and then drew it farther away. Tapped it. Shook his head.

It said that over a day had passed.