Amish Vampires in Space (17 page)

Mark looked stunned, almost hurt. Samuel stood with his head bowed and seemed to be praying. James shook his head.

Singer suddenly realized that Jeb’s speech was out of line. A breach of some protocol, of the rules the Amish lived by. The Ordnung.

Samuel’s eyes opened and he nodded slowly. “Danki, Jebediah. The ministers have met with you previously and considered your opinion.” Samuel scanned the room. “We were aware of his tests when we made our decision.” He searched the room. “We will take another vote. Those in favor of staying, as we have decided, please raise your hands where I can see.”

Singer held her breath. Looked around the room. Fewer than half the hands were up now. A few more trickled up slowly, but a couple also rose and came down. She couldn’t see for sure. She couldn’t really count them all, but she was hopeful. Definitely Jeb’s speech had helped.

Samuel was silent for a long while, only his eyes moving as he counted. Finally, he cleared his throat, straightened himself. “It appears that we’ve decided to leave then.” A nod. “We will prayerfully prepare for that.”

Singer wanted to cheer, but she said nothing. Bit her lip to keep from smiling. Darly was now looking at the floor. Shaking her head. Possibly trembling.

Samuel frowned, glanced at the other leaders. “Sadly, we have another piece of business to attend to.” He raised his eyes to the crowd. “The leadership will accept the congregation’s opinion. We will go with the Englishers and pray the Lord preserve us. However…” He looked Jeb’s direction. “Jebediah Miller, in front of all these present, speak the truth: Were you warned by the leadership not to interfere? To abide by the leadership’s decision?”

Jebediah nodded. “I was.”

“And yet you spoke just now, clearly swaying the people from what their pastors had chosen for them.” A slow head shake. “It is therefore my unhappy duty to remove you from our fellowship. At least until that time that you repent of your ways.”

Singer clenched her fists together. He’s being shunned, she realized, for doing what’s right. For saving their lives! She wanted to scream. To lash out. But that wouldn’t help anything.

“So, do you repent?” Samuel asked.

“I followed my conscience,” Jeb said.

Samuel scowled. “Very well,” he said. “We remove you from fellowship.”

“You should remove me too,” Ezekiel said. “I agree with Jeb.”

He was a noble young man, this Ezekiel. He would make a good crewmember.

Samuel held up a hand. “Ezekiel, we will warn you for your support of Jebediah, but we will not excommunicate you today. Willfulness and pride are not common to you.”

“But I helped him,” Zeke said. “I encourage the move, as well.”

“And you have been warned,” Samuel said.

“But—”

“Enough.”

The wind shifted, and Singer got a strong whiff of cattle. She brought her hand to her nose. Coughed.

“Sei se gut, for Jebediah’s good,” Samuel said to the assembly, “do not associate with him until he is willing to confess his sins and ask for forgiveness. Do not fellowship with him. Do not share a meal with him. Do not laugh or mourn with him.” Samuel’s frown deepened. “Now, it appears we all have work to do. Please get instructions from the Englishers in regards to what you may bring. We will have a meeting at a later time to wish Alabaster goodbye.”

“Be on your way, all of you,” Deacon Mark said. “Go in peace.”

Again in the
Raven
’s fore section, Seal reached
the maze of triangle offices directly beneath the pilot’s bubble. He stopped at the first office he encountered. It was occupied by a dark-complexioned man wearing a standard blue Guild sweater and beige slacks.

“I need to get the latest scheduling ledgers from corporate,” Seal said. “Can you tell me who the current SB operator is?”

The man looked flummoxed. “Sorry, Captain, I really don’t know. Isn’t it Crewmember Singer?” He brought a hand to his head. “Blond hair. Attractive. A bit shy.”

Seal shook his head. “She’s on the planet,” he said. “Heading the relocation effort.” A scowl. “Don’t you people read your bulletins?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Sorry, sir, everyone’s busy. We’ve lost people to medical and to loading and to—”

Seal raised a hand. Frowned. His com unit chirped then. He waved dismissively and moved away, back toward one of the interior walls. People were bustling everywhere, he noticed. Though there was still way too much talking for him. Productivity, people! He detached his com unit from his belt and brought it up where he could see it. Accepted the link.

The screen flickered, and the image of a woman with a strange grey head covering appeared. Who is calling me? Then Seal realized who it was. “What are you wearing, Singer?” he asked.

She felt her head. Smiled. “A kapp. You like it?”

He sniffed. “Is that local dress?”

“Yes…”

A pause. “I suppose I should’ve looked at the pictures.”

“The pictures?”

“In your report. I read it.” He looked in the direction of the first triangle. “Unlike how most people treat the bulletins…”

“Seal?”

He shook his head. “Never mind.” Seal reached the interior wall, turned right, and started to pace along it, following the front row of triangles. He smiled. “So how do things stand?”

She smiled. “They’ve decided to go,” she said. “Finally.”

Seal felt a wave of relief. They could still maintain their schedule. Make their stops. “That’s good,” he said. “I knew you could do it.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It was Jebediah Miller.”

“Who?”

“Our signal sender. Our contact? He convinced people. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Yes,
unfortunately
. Unfortunately for him.”

“For him? I would think any outcome not including incineration is a good one.”

“Yes, well, it is complicated. He’s been shunned.”

“Shunned…” Seal searched his memory. “I remember reading about that…. A loss of fellowship or something, correct?”

“Yes, he’ll lose all contact with the group. It is a tragic turn.”

Seal studied Singer’s kapp. “Is it?”

Singer frowned. “Well, for them it is. It means no one can talk to him. His wife can live with him, but she might still participate in the shunning. Take her meals at separate tables or have less…interplay.” She shrugged. “You know.”

Seal fought off a blush. “Singer. That wasn’t in the report. Really?”

“Different groups have different rules,” she said. “But Jebediah’s situation has another complication: Sarah’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant! On my ship?” He felt a sudden need to get to his desk again. To see what supplies they had in storage. Baby supplies? What does a baby need? He should contact Darly. Could they handle—?

“She’s a long time off yet, Seal. Months.”

Seal relaxed. “Ah…” A conversation started at the triangle to his right. Two large women in overly tight Guild full body suits. They looked like blueberries. Seal winced and paced back the other way.

Singer shrugged. “The Amish have a penchant for children, however. It is quite possible one of the others—”

“I should be sitting down,” he said. “At my desk.”

Singer chuckled. “Children are fine, Seal. Don’t worry. They’re just little people.”

“Yes, but babies…” He wasn’t sure why he’d never pictured babies. He also wasn’t sure he’d adequately pictured the livestock, either. “What about the animals?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Smelly. All of them. We’re going to have to have Darly tweak the air processors.”

He nodded. “We’ll have her check those over. Yes.”

“Anyway, the first load should begin tomorrow morning.”

He really needed his desk. “We’ll be ready. Anything else?”

“Yes, I wonder if we have quarters available. Not in the bay with the others.”

Seal squinted. “You mean crew quarters? For who?”

“For Jebediah. The Amish won’t have him.”

Really needed his desk. “What! Indefinitely?”

“Well, he’s shunned until he repents. I’m not sure how that will work out or if he will repent. It isn’t punishment, but they are trying to change his behavior.” She frowned. “Anyway, I just thought it would be good if he had a place away from the others. In case he needed it.”

“Sounds like he’s the only man there worth having aboard.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Seal. They just have their own ledgers to balance.”

He smiled at the reference. “Nice, Singer. Doesn’t change my opinion.” He twisted his lip. “As to the quarters, I’ll have to check. We can probably find him something. It is a big ship.”

Singer nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem,” Seal said. “And Singer.”

“Yes, Seal?”

“Where does your replacement sit? I need the updated schedule on the scraddlebox. From corporate.”

She smiled. “I can help with that.”

“I thought you might.”

• • •

Greels made his way to Congi’s quarters. If he was right that Congi had gotten into the science remnant package, then Congi would’ve had to have done so during his free time—his sleeping time. That meant he would be tired and back in his room sleeping it off.

Greels checked the duty roster. Congi was supposed to be on duty now, but he hadn’t passed his first passkey check. That meant he was at his quarters. Another thing to bust him over. After Greels squeezed the weasel for whatever he’d taken.

Greels hadn’t decided if he’d just keep the material for himself or report Congi and let the captain, and ultimately corporate, deal with him. It depended on what had been taken. It would serve the cleaner right to spend the rest of the trip behind a field in confinement, though. Bet that would seriously affect his side business. Not being able to
find
every night.

Regardless, Congi was going to feel worse when Greels was through with him. He had been where he wasn’t supposed to be, and he would pay. That’s what Greels’s princess would want. He was sure of it. He was protecting
her
belongings, her honor.

All the cleaners’ quarters were in the same part of the ship—port and aft. More remote than even Greels’s office. As he entered the slideway from the main slide to the lower level, Greels noticed how dim and dusty it seemed. How smeared the overhead surface was. It was like the cleaners didn’t work their own section at all.

Greels scowled. Another thing to put on a report. And he knew how much Captain Drake liked reports. That guy was always pushing data.

Greels reached the bottom of the slideway and stepped off. The floor was dirty too. He even saw tracks of mud in some places. How does that happen? We haven’t touched a planet in weeks. He shook his head, grunted. He made the short walk to the nearest hallway. From there, he pulled out his com unit and checked the built-in
Raven
map. Congi’s quarters were to the left and then right—number E75. He turned left. Scowled.

He passed a dozen doors and reached a small lounge on his left. It contained a handful of comfortable looking chairs and an entertainment screen. There was also a large grey pot on the floor in the far left corner. Remnants of a plant stuck out of it. It was a tropical blend—a gene splice of three or possibly four different plants—with a silky looking trunk and broad leaves. Every lounge had at least one such plant. Green was deemed necessary for Guild space routes. Supposedly it helped keep people sane.

Except the leaves here were all wilted and brown. Again, he was surprised. Usually shipboard plants were nearly indestructible. He’d seen them survive being spit on, juggled, watered with illicit beverages, low light and low water. But this one was just dead-dead.

Cleaners.

He reached the place where he was to turn, only to find a section of overhead lights out and one that was flickering.

He turned right. Congi’s place was only seven doors away. As he reached the midpoint, a door on his right opened and a short young woman stepped out. She had tightly-curled hair and an off-grey outfit. Her clothing was way outside of regulations, even for a cleaner. She dragged a cleaner’s cart out with her, though. It hovered and had an assortment of tools. Her tools were stacked mostly into a small pyramid on top. She gave him a little sad smile and pushed her cart past him, back toward the intersection.

Greels hoped she wasn’t working anywhere near the captain. She’d get busted out, for sure. Demoted to dirt loader. Or maybe clean the oncoming livestock. Yeah, that would be a good job for her. Right there with Congi.

Greels waited for the woman to move around the corner. No sense yelling with people around. She glanced once in his direction before passing into the dark area of the intersection. When the one flickering light finally lit again, she was gone.

Greels turned to Congi’s door. To the left was a controlpad, which he passed his hand over. It should alert Congi of his presence.

No response. Greels tried the pad again. Waited. Still no response.

He checked both directions of the hall. Wondered where else the cleaner would be. Someone like Congi typically had few real friends. People who wanted to buy stolen articles cheaply, sure. But “Hey, let’s go to lunch!” friends? No.