Amish Vampires in Space (45 page)

The group ahead started to exit the slideway to the left. There were other Englishers standing there already. Another woman and a man. They were yelling, motioned with their arms. And the Amishers were following. They were directed toward a second, longer slide. How would that help? Wouldn’t it just continue the chase?

Jeb had no idea, but the Englishers’ urging only intensified. So he decided they must know something. He glanced behind him. Thankfully, there weren’t too many horses in the stampede, and those that were there were being blocked by the smaller animals. A large ram broke ahead, though, and caught the coattail of one of the stragglers. An older man.

“Take your coat off!” Jeb screamed.

The man was confused and off balance, but after repeated shouts from Jeb, he managed to take the coat off. Threw it behind him. A woman was lost to a goat, though. It nipped her, pulled her over.

Jeb felt anger. Righteous anger. He found himself wishing for something to use on the animals. A staff or an ax handle. Something he could swing. Before all was lost.

He reached the slideway exit and turned left to follow the rest. It was Miss Singer who was waiting for them, he realized. And she
was
waiting. She stood inside the exit, screaming and waving.

Jeb slowed up. Veered to the side to join her. He would help the remainder somehow.

“Go on,” she said, frowning. “I can get this.”

He was about to protest, but as the last Amisher reached the exit, Singer ran back toward it, and with a quick movement, did something that caused the tube exit to seal completely shut.

Animals slammed against the seal, braying and moaning. The whole group coalesced there. Some got pushed over the handrails into the slide going the opposite direction. Screamed as they were dragged away by the slide. Horned animals started to attack the place where the exit had been. A large ram made contact, and Jeb saw a small opening in the seal, a place where air could get through.

Singer’s eyes were wide.

“How long will that hold?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We’re not waiting to see.” She motioned toward the longer slide, where the remaining Amish were now a long swiftly retreating line. “Into the blue slide. We’re getting out of here.”

• • •

Seal fought his fear.

He felt isolated. Alone. He’d never before realized how much at the mercy of his desk he was, but now he understood. He had been a slave to it. To a façade of human interaction. Of human management. A prisoner in his own office. He wasn’t a captain at all! He controlled nothing. He was no better than a boy pushing plasteel ships across a kitchen floor. In fact, he was worse, because there was nothing tangible in his situation at all. He was completely disconnected.

Seal looked at the plaques on his office wall again. Swore, and with a swipe of his hands, knocked three of them to the ground. He even crushed one of them—the picture of him and the admiral—into the floor with his feet. What a fool he had been. Purposeless. As replaceable as a chair. What now? Where to begin? He had to do something.

There were weapons!

He startled when his desk chimed with an incoming connection. He hurried over to it. Moved around it so he could clearly see.

Singer! Singer was calling him! He felt a touch of elation. The stroke of a hand on his cheek. Humanity—it wasn’t lost yet.

He slapped the connection indicator. Smiled as the image resolved into Singer. Then he frowned. She looked disheveled. Stark white and possibly afraid. And it seemed she was moving. “Singer,” he said. “How can I help?”

“Seal, thank God.”

“Where are you?” He gripped the sides of the desk. “What is going on?”

“We’re in blue,” she said. “We have animals, sir.”

He shook his head. “Animals? I don’t think I—”

“The Amish livestock is infected. Large groups are running loose.” Her eyes averted, looking over her shoulder. “Chasing us.”

“Okay.” He paused, trying to take it all in. Nodded finally. “And you’re on blue?”

“Yes, sir. Seal.”

“And the Amish are with you? Jebediah’s group?”

“Yes.”

He looked across the room. Noticed the pictures he’d smashed. “And how far are you from—” He shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll look.” With a few touches of his desk surface he was able to determine the location of Singer’s com unit. “Not far.” Her image moved, and he was able to glimpse traces of beards and bonnets near her. “Singer?”

“Yes? I’m here.”

“I want you to take the next stop. I want all of you to come here to my office. Can you do that?”

Her head seemed to bob. “I think so. Yes. We’ll come there.”

He nodded resolutely. “Good. I’ll be waiting.”

• • •

The smell of roses was everywhere. It engulfed her. Darly was helpless to resist. Her medpad slipped from her hands, clattering on the tiled floor.

Congi only smiled.

For the first time, she noticed his teeth, how irregular they were. How long the incisors. How had she not seen that before? What could make that happen? A radical genome change, maybe. She was filled with questions but they were meaningless now. Distant echoes in a mind that was no longer fully her own. Her arms were locked to her side. She was powerless.

And she found she wanted what Congi had. Nearly trembled for it. She felt waves of cold and hot.

Congi was within a few feet of her now. “I wish you knew how discerning I am,” he said. “How selective.” His eyes seemed to drink her in. “I’ve learned much over the last few days. Made some mistakes, certainly, but made some good choices too. One thing I know now: Food selection is important. As is having a ready supply.” He raised his hand, placed it on her shoulders. “And here you are. A gift. Refined, no-nonsense. Intelligent! A gift.”

She tried to shake her head. Engage some modicum of willpower. Say something. But it was no use. Congi was here. With her. The room seemed to drift away, and along with it went the dead patient, her research, her work.

Congi’s mouth opened wide. He leaned forward. Lips brushed the skin above her jugular. She shut her eyes. Tried to wish it away. Or to wish the process madly forward. She felt a tingling sensation.

“Is anyone here?” someone said. A message from another world.

The contact with Congi ended. He pulled back, stepped away.

“Oh, my,” the voice said. “Pardon me.”

The fog lifted a bit. Darly shook her head. Tried to return to the moment. To her senses. Her head throbbed. She squinted her eyes closed. “What?” she croaked out.

She heard Congi gasp. He stepped farther away, backing around to a spot behind her. Darly forced her eyes open. Looked toward the door.

An Amish woman stood there. Reasonably attractive, wearing a soft blue dress and white bonnet. Blond hair. An angel?

Darly shook her head again. Groaned. The woman was pregnant. Not an angel. Not too largely pregnant though. Four or five months. The woman leaned heavily on the doorjamb, like something was wrong. Pain.

Darly felt a wave of empathy. Suddenly remembered her calling. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“You don’t belong here,” Congi hissed from behind her. He seemed to be cowering. His hands were on Darly’s shoulders. “Why are you here? Of all places?”

The woman squinted at them both. “What happened to Lucile? Weren’t you with Lucile?”

Darly stooped to retrieve her medpad, taking her a few steps farther from Congi in the process. She then stepped around the end of the patient’s table, glancing at the still form as she did. She had a twinge of guilt at losing Candle, even though she was clearly no longer human. No longer
just
human.

She glanced at Congi. His face looked flushed now. Eyes a bit sunken. The floral scent had disappeared too, she realized. She found she despised Congi. Feared him. She was able to see all the imperfections of his face now. He wasn’t attractive at all, really. Just a lowly thief. A pretender. “You need to go,” she said.

The pregnant woman narrowed her eyes. Took a few steps forward. “You are walking in the path of unrighteousness, young man. No good will come of your behavior.”

Congi looked strangely weakened. He shook his head as if fighting something. “You’re making me uncomfortable.” He moved to his right, into the open area of the room. His eyes began to dart, like he was looking for a way to escape.

The pregnant woman moved farther into the room. Placed a hand on her stomach, winced. “I’m having some pains,” she said to Darly.

Congi made a moaning sound and scrambled past the woman and out the door. He looked back, squinted, shook his head. “Another time, Darly.” He disappeared into the hallway. Out of view.

Darly tapped her lip with a finger. “That was strange.”

“Pardon,” the woman said. “I know it is not my business, but that man—” Her eyes landed on Candle’s still body. “Is she passed?”

Darly frowned. “I’m afraid so. I need to find out what happened there…” She looked at the woman’s belly. “You say you’re having pains?”

“Yes, deep ones. But it is too early.” Tears formed in her eyes. “My apologies. I am not myself lately.” A head shake. “Feelings are jumbled.”

Darly glanced at the door. “Tell me about it.” A quick smile. “What is your name?”

“Pardon, Sarah Miller. My husband is Jebediah.”

“And you know Congi?”

A frown. A hand patted her stomach. “Better now.” She nodded. “We’re neighbors, I think. I’ve seen him before, yes.”

Darly looked at Sarah’s belly. “Probably it is what is called Braxton-Hicks.”

“Pardon, doctor?”

“False labor pains. Rare these days, but not unusual. And no danger.” A quick smile. “Doubtless they’re more common in your group. Before elasidium.” She thought of Congi. “Plus, the way this ship travels, slipping between stars, can accelerate other processes too.”

“Accelerate?” Sarah’s frown deepened. “Elasi…?”

Darly shook her head. “It’s a medicine. I’ll get you some.” She looked at the blue floor. Shook her head. “Listen, you saved me from something there. Somehow.”

“He did seem to be in a bit of rush, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Darly tapped her finger on her lips again, thoughtful. “I wonder why?” She glanced at Candle’s body. Wondered what else she could learn there, then looked at Sarah again. “Okay, let’s make sure you’re okay first. We’ll theorize later.”

Sarah nodded. “Lord bless you.”

“Hmm…yes, and you.”

Suddenly his office felt very full. Very real.
Important.

Seal was seated at his desk again, but his two guest chairs were filled by an older Amish gentleman named Samuel and a younger man named Mark. Both were leaders in this group. Standing or sitting around them were an additional twenty or so Amish, most now dressed in only shirt and pants—or in the case of the women—long white dresses with full black aprons. Gone were most of the hats and bonnets. Victims of the chase across the
Raven
, across his ship. Guild property.

To the right of the desk, leaning against the wall, was Singer. Just beyond her, also on the wall, was Jebediah. Greels was in the room as well, but he hovered near the door. Pacing.

“Greels,” Seal said, “will you seat yourself somewhere?”

Greels shook his head. “Can’t do it. My heart is just thump, thump, thumping. That was the craziest thing.” He scanned the Amish. “Guess your animals got out of their pens, huh? And you complained about field containment.”

“Greels,” Singer said, “leave it.”

Samuel looked at the floor. Shut his eyes. His lips began to move. His fists clenched in his lap.

Seal wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Is he praying?” he asked finally.

Mark nodded. “Yes. Perhaps we should join him.” He looked around the room. “Everyone, we have family and friends that are in grave spiritual danger. And livestock that’s been lost. Our lives and livelihood are threatened.”

A tall, thin man pointed at Greels. “Your people killed our animals!” This man had somehow managed to keep his hat, Seal noticed. It was pressed against his chest. He looked truly morose, though. Like a man who had lost everything else.

“Your animals?” Greels said. “Your animals were trying to eat us. I wish I’d had a gun too.” He waved an arm. “It’s you people who brought all of this on us.”

Seal scowled. “Enough, Greels. This is no time for blame.”

The old one, Samuel, made a wheezing sound. Touched his chest. Shook his head. “‘Claiming to be wise, they become fools,’” he muttered.

“What did he say?” Greels said. “Did he call me something?”

Mark leaned forward. Rested both hands on his knees. “Please, Captain, much has been taken from us, but it is unfair to besmirch our reputation, as well. This affliction, whatever it is, started here. On your ship.”

Seal nodded. “Yes, we need to get to the bottom of that. What exactly are we up against? And where did it begin?” He placed a finger on the surface of his desk. “Our medical officer, Darly. She’s been looking into that. She should have something by now.” A frown. “If she answers—”

“With all due respect, sir,” Samuel said. “I understand you are the leader of this ship?”