Amish Vampires in Space (35 page)

This hallway had red stripes instead of blue. Still annoying. The Union Café was ahead, though. So he pressed on.

The entire floor was generally a storage level. There were a few rooms for crewmembers near the slides, indicated by nametags next to the entry pads, but after that there were just solid doors on either side. After three minutes of soundless walking he noticed one of the storage doors ahead was ajar. Another regulation breakdown. He frowned.

Most of these storage rooms had nothing in them that people would want to steal. Typically, they contained only food component items that were tasteless without proper processing in the cafeteria. But a few rooms held product loads for the food machines around the ship. Someone might steal them.

People seemed hungry this trip. Slip travel would do that to you, though. Monotony.

Greels drifted toward the open door and raised his hand to the level of the controlpad, intending to quickly close it as he walked by. He heard something then—a human sound—from inside. Almost like muffled speech.

He paused. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d discovered an amorous couple in a storage room. These smaller areas were favorites for that sort of unlicensed activity. Less surveillance than the larger bays.

He shook his head. Why couldn’t people just keep it in their rooms, where there was no chance of getting caught?

He chuckled to himself. Then again, I talk to a woman in a box.

Greels brought his hand to his face. Gave it a hard wipe. Shook his head and took a few steps forward. Another sound, but distinct this time. Like something had been dropped or upset.

He stepped back to the door and worked the controlpad to open it completely. An off-duty interlude was one thing, but destroying company supplies? That had to be dealt with.

This storage room was larger than he’d guessed it would be. He could see at least a dozen rows of shelving facing him, plus two longer perpendicular shelves that ran along the side walls. In front of those were narrow spaces. Walkways that presumably went all the way to the back of the room.

Every shelf had items missing or disturbed. Boxes were scattered over the floor. All were mashed and heaped, but not necessarily opened. Like kids had been playing in here.

The only people who had kids onboard were the Amish. It made him despise them even more. Can’t they keep track of their children? Tie them up at night or something?

He clenched his fists and carefully stepped inside. He moved to the rightmost walkway, tiptoeing around the mess as he went. He didn’t want to give any warning to the intruders. He wanted them as frightened as they could be. Wanted them to wet themselves with terror, bolt away screaming. He passed one row of shelves and then another. With each step, he was conscious of the mess, of the disruption that had been caused.

Anger. He felt real anger.

He thought of his girlfriend. Of her peace within the cryomatrix. Her beautiful face. The image soothed him a little.

But he was still angry.

Another sound, a groan—clearly female. Greels stopped again. So the intruders weren’t kids, after all. The fire inside increased. He didn’t care if it were the captain himself—

It wouldn’t be the captain, would it? Not out here. Greels had seen him making eyes at that Singer chick. Figured that was why he’d put her in charge of the Amish anyway. To try to soften her a bit, get her to be more agreeable toward him. Though he didn’t think much of the structure the captain represented, he didn’t mind him as a person. He was an alright guy. And he couldn’t blame Seal for pursuing Singer. She was pretty enough. Smart enough.

It hadn’t been her voice he’d heard, though. Couldn’t have been.

Greels shook his head. Tired. Getting tired. And hungry.

Better to just get this over with. Get on with my life. He plodded ahead, not worrying about what noise he made. Whoever was in here needed to clean this up and then get out. Ship regs, and all. He was the loading supervisor, not a janitor.

He reached the last row of shelves. From here he could see, amid the chaos of wrecked packages, two people. The light was dimmer here but bright enough to make out some detail. There appeared to a woman prone on the floor and a short man bent over her. Greels nearly turned away with embarrassment, but then he realized both people were fully clothed. There was an obvious intimacy to their posture, but not indecently so.

The woman moaned again. Greels squinted. Took a step closer. The back of the man’s head looked subtly familiar. Jet dark hair. The woman, he had no idea. All he could see were pants-covered legs. Strangely, the pants seemed cut in a few places. Not torn. Cut. Or maybe bitten.

Weird style of dress, regardless. Not regulation anymore.

As for the man, he was dressed okay. Could have been someone from Greels’s own department, actually. Short of stature, though. Not a loader.

Greels cleared his throat. “You two have made a big mess in here,” he said. “I know these slips get boring, but—”

The man sat up and turned to look at him. Greels staggered backward with surprise.

It was that intern kid. The one he’d tried his best to ignore. His face was wet, hair dripping in front of his eyes. And his expression was visceral, almost hateful. His mouth opened in a mockery of a smile. His teeth became visible, but they were darkened. Coated in something.

In fact, Greels realized, the young man’s lips were coated with something too, making them seem larger than they actually were. Something dark.

Something red.

Greels found himself holding up his hands defensively. “What is going on here?” he asked. “What have you done to her?”

The young intern’s eyes widened, making them seem unnaturally large. His mouth widened too. And he hissed.

“What the flame?” Greels tried to think. Tried to remember the intern’s name. He snapped his fingers when he finally got it. “Foley!”

Another hiss, and a full turn in his direction. The young man repositioned himself but remained crouching. Suddenly he didn’t seem so small and scrawny to Greels anymore. He seemed sort of dangerous. Threatening.

Greels full anger returned. He could partially see the young woman now. He didn’t recognize her, which probably meant she was from the front of the ship. The offices.

Foley shouldn’t have gone up that way at all. Didn’t have clearance for it. His planetary assignment must’ve gone to his head. Made him feel more important than he was.

The young lady moaned again. Greels felt a little better at that. She was alive, at least. But the blood…

Greels remembered his communicator. He grabbed it and brought it near his face. “I’m calling security, Foley. You can bid your career—”

Foley roared and leapt at him.

Morning found Jeb grateful. Primarily because
he’d brought a writing utensil with him onto the ship. He couldn’t for the life of him find anything in their room that could be used for simple writing. Nor anything to write
on,
for that matter. Such a large desk, and not a single thing to write with or on? How very strange.

He’d managed to find a bit of torn wrapping material from one of their packages, though, and that was enough. Using it and his graphite marker, he constructed a rudimentary map of the ship. Enough that he could find his way first to the nearest short slide and then up to one of the major slideways above.

What Jeb hadn’t found, though, was validation. Sarah’s fleece. For all his mining of the desk’s wonders, he’d seen little regarding Alabaster’s sun, aside from a few cryptic descriptions. Words and phrases that meant nothing to him. He took some comfort that they were all written in bright red letters, though. That had to mean something.

As he stood waiting to enter the slide, he thought for a long moment if there was something he was supposed to do before stepping on. Some way to alert other travelers, or even stop the thing so he could step on. But after watching it move for a few moments, he realized it slowed enough that he shouldn’t lose his footing, so he gave it a try. He felt a bit of unease at the sudden speed change, but after regaining his balance, he smiled to himself, nodded, and stood tall again. He eventually even brought his hands together in front of himself and attempted to relax. Like he rode these things all the time.

The Lord was with him, even here. Away from his home planet. Outside the community.

He watched the transparent tube as it moved by him on all sides. It appeared seamless. Light, yet obviously strong. He wanted to touch it, but he was fairly certain that was unwise. The rails that moved along with the slide seemed to be in place partially to discourage such an action.

He took his eyes away from the tube and looked at the smaller bays to his right. They seemed to be filled to capacity. Rows and rows of boxes, all stacked neatly. Doubtlessly filled with things he couldn’t even imagine. Why did Englishers need so many things? Was there no end to their appetite?

He was reminded of his wife. Eating for two. Now
there
was an appetite that was justified. He hoped she would be alright on her own for as long as it took him to do what he had to do.

Jeb felt a twinge of wrongness to his goal. Part of him—his sinful self, perhaps—didn’t want to renew fellowship. Not if it meant voicing repentance for something he thought right. Plus, it would mean giving up their quarters. And though they didn’t belong, didn’t really understand any of it, there was a portion of living there that was akin to exploring a new section of a forest on Alabaster. A bit dark, a bit frightening, but also filled with unexpected delights.

Doubtless, there was sin in that, as well.

Jebediah saw signs for upcoming stops. Frowning, he took out his map and held it up to get the full benefit of the overhead lighting. The next stop should be the right one. Or close enough, he hoped, that he could walk. He determined to get off the slide, regardless. Though he felt fine now, he worried that the slide’s motion would eventually make him ill. It was no buggy ride.

He perceived himself slowing down. There was a brightly lit banner ahead listing bay numbers. The number range seemed right: all the odd bays over eleven. The settlement was in seventeen, of that he was certain. He nodded to himself again. Put a hand up to steady his hat, and at the place where the rails disappeared, stepped off onto the landing.

He found an elderly Amisher woman standing there, as well. It appeared she was waiting for the slide.

Jeb tipped his hat, studied her. She was in a standard community dress and bonnet, except the colors were all wrong. Not a light shade of blue or grey, as they should be, but bright scarlet. Material she must’ve dyed for herself special.

“Morning, miss,” he said, smiling. He wondered if she might be a bit addled. He’d seen strange behavior in the elderly before. And with the added stress of their surroundings, who knew how it would affect an old mind.

The woman gave him a tooth-filled grin. Though greying, she was surprisingly youthful in appearance. And her teeth were quite white and straight. Uncommon. Not like an old lady’s teeth at all. Plus, what was she doing here? About to get onto the slide? Alone. In red!

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“Jebediah Miller?” she said.

He squinted. He didn’t recognize the woman. That wasn’t altogether unexpected. There were some smaller communities aboard. He tipped his head again. “The same. And you are?”

“Hanna,” she said. “Hanna Overmeyer.” She continued smiling and backed into the slideway. She watched him as she slid away. Smiling. Bright red.

Jeb shook his head. Added her to the list of things to ask about when he arrived. He noticed the doorway marked “Exit” and walked through.

• • •

Bay 17 had two entrances from this direction: a large sliding door and a smaller single-person door. Neither was open when Jebediah arrived. Both were painted dark blue against a lighter blue wall. There were no locks, however, and the security on both doors had been deactivated. Or so they’d been told. The presence of humans in the bay meant the doors had to be accessible at all times. Safety reasons.

Jeb suspected that someone—a child, perhaps—would be stationed on the other side to answer his knock, though. He walked to the smaller door and tapped on its surface.

No response. He moved closer and tapped again.

The door creaked slowly open. There was a movement of air, and immediately Jeb noticed the scent of farm animals. It was nearly overwhelming, even for someone accustomed to such smells.

Abraham’s son Jonathan sat on a rocker just inside the door. A few buttons were missing from his shirt, and the brim of his hat was rolled up all the way around. Worse: There was the beginnings of a mustache on his top lip, as well.

“Are the razors all dull?” Jeb asked.

The boy smiled. Clapped a hand on Jebediah’s thigh. “Herr Miller! You’ve returned!”

Jeb frowned, searched the area inside the door. The young man was the only one nearby, but Jeb could see lots of community folk near the settlement’s edge. It was the first time he’d seen the rows of blue dwellings up close. They weren’t as uniform as he’d expected. Some had odd objects hanging on the outside walls: everything from rakes to quilts to kitchen utensils. None of them looked particularly
right
. Nor did the people he saw. There was more color than there should be in everyone’s clothing. More individuality.