Amish Vampires in Space (11 page)

He shined his light on the refrigeration unit. Had they even cleaned that out before packing it up? It appeared not. Must’ve been in a serious rush.

He noticed a change in the ambient light—a pulsing—and froze for an instant. He then realized his com device was flashing. He shook his head, glanced at the screen, swore, and looked around him again. Things were packed in so tight it would be difficult to turn. But he had to. He couldn’t exactly back out. And someone was on the way.

Congi moved his bag and light, attempted to pull his knees up and turn around.

He caught a whiff of the stench again. Forced a cough. Shook his head. He managed to get partially turned, but his right hip stuck on something. He shifted, pulled with all his might.

He heard glass break behind him. He swore again. Tried to see what it was, thought he recognized a broken bottle near the refrigeration device. Swore again.

Maybe with all the previous spillage, no one would know. The place was a mess already, right?

He finally freed himself and headed straight for the opening.

He heard another sound, something independent of his own movement. He froze. Listened. Felt worry rise in his gut. Stick in his throat.

Then he felt something else. A presence. An intelligence. Something watching him.

It was too much. He slid as fast as he could. Dug his hands in. Scratched and clawed his way forward.

There was pain on his hip again. Sharp. Probing. Then on his lower back. He panicked. Dropped everything and pushed forward. He had to get out.

Pain shifted to his upper back, his shoulders. His neck. He slapped at it and felt something snap. Heard a crunch. He checked his hand and saw a stain of red and green on his glove. Remnants of a black body with lots of legs.

Things seemed to tumble in on him. He lost the light.

Darkness followed.

There was a lot to be done. Lots of numbers.
Lots of charts to maintain and update. Calculations. Organization and orders. Seal was a master of such things, though.

At his desk, he worked like a madman. Opening volumes, patching information, checking statistics. Weight ratios. He pulled up Greels’s shift schedules. Checked the bottom numbers. Adjusted them slightly. Slid them back Greels’s direction.

He checked the report from medical. Darly was nervous, as always. The additional nursing recruits had helped some with that. She was making progress in training them. She’d also inspected Bay 17. Felt it safe enough for their cargo. Temporary wash facilities had been constructed, using warehoused plumbing supplies. Fences for the animals.

There would be limits on the livestock they’d be transferring, obviously. The amount of space they had wasn’t endless. But it would be enough, by regulations, for the settlement to ultimately survive on. Until they got wherever they were going.

Seal queried the pilot bubble. Perth arrived onscreen. Face as unruffled as ever.

“How much time do we have?” Seal asked.

“Less than 24 standard hours now,” Perth said. “Twenty-two to near orbit, and another couple to reach shuttle range.” He smiled. “We could sit the whole
Raven
down, of course, if that would make things easier.”

Egan appeared in the background, looking interested. Looking like a whole ship landing would be the highlight of his trip. Such landings were done on occasion. They were generally messy, though, and required ledgers-more fuel. Plus, it would mean exposing a nearly full shipment to whatever was below. Planets generally had lots of dangers. Even those without a shaky sun.

“Not worth the risk,” Seal said. “We’ll keep it in mind. The star seems generally stable. But if we have to rush…”

Perth nodded. “Understood.”

Seal bobbed his head. “So, twenty-four hours then?”

Perth nodded again.

Seal checked his virtual timepiece. “Not much time.”

“No.”

“Okay, lots to organize.” With a closing nod, Seal signed off. This pickup was a mountain of details already. That was in addition to his normal workload, the stressful task of captaining.

He thought of Singer again. Snapped his fingers and queried her desk.

She appeared as attractive as ever. Hair pulled back into a ponytail. Controlled and active. She wore the solid button-down crew shirt. Polished and competent. Just what he needed.

“How are you today, Singer?” he asked, smiling.

She returned the smile. “Fine, Seal.”

“Anything new from the SB?”

Singer nodded. “Yes, I was just about to query you. They’ve found a relocation planet for our future guests. Another zoned low-tech. Two systems from Obelisk.”

Seal raised his eyebrows. That was about as efficient as he’d ever seen HQ. “A replacement already? Unbelievable.”

“Yes, isn’t it? The policy must have included relocation expense. A premium policy. Doubtless costly. Someone who was leaving all their possessions behind, perhaps?”

Seal pushed Singer’s image to the side slightly. Reached for another ledger. One that showed their scheduled time in Obelisk. Typically they followed a circular route. These Amish would complicate matters.

“Are you looking at our schedule?” Singer asked.

Seal smiled. “Caught me, yes.” He sighed. “Just trying to predict what HQ will do with us after Obelisk. What it will mean to the schedule.”

“Oh, we won’t be delivering them, Seal.”

“No?” Seal barely contained his relief.

“No. Their drop-off will be Obelisk. The
Crane
will take them from there.”

“Oh. Wonderful.”

Singer smiled. “So relax.”

He smiled again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a delightful young lady.”

Singer blushed, smiled again. “How could I possibly take that wrong?”

Seal looked toward the ceiling. Studied the lights. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But it seemed the proper thing to say.” He brought Singer’s image front and center. Studied her. “Singer, I would like to give you an additional responsibility.”

“Sir?”

Seal frowned.

She smiled. “Seal? What responsibility?”

He squinted. “You seem to have some empathy for these low techs.”

Singer sat back slightly. Adjusted her shirt. Looked slightly embarrassed. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m paid to notice details. To organize them.”

She looked down. Smiled. “Yes, of course you are. Right.”

“And you tend to defend them. Their rights.”

Singer shrugged. “I grew up on a farm. Not an Amish farm, but on Newmarket. We had a farm.”

“Livestock? Cows, pigs?”

“Some goats, is all. Gener hybrids.”

Seal nodded his head. He kept a gener hybrid—a frog/lizard mix—in an aquarium in his office. A solitary pet. “Perfect. I’d like to put you in charge of the pickup, Singer.”

Singer’s face flushed. “Me? But I’m just the scraddle operator.”

“But there are others that can do that job. At least one assistant.”

“We have two, actually. An assistant and an intern.”

“Excellent. So you are free for this. Do you accept?”

“You’re asking me? Not ordering?”

“I wouldn’t order something like this. I just think you’re qualified.”

Singer looked thoughtful. “But I don’t think I’m in line for such a thing. The promotion rules—”

Seal waved a hand. “We’ll throw the rules away this time.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” A smile.

“Me neither.” Seal studied his office again. Realized for the first time that it had been unchanged for the whole time he’d been onboard. Same pictures, same awards. Same frizard. How strange. “Listen, there will be a lot of detail here, a lot of interpersonal interaction. I will be involved, but I also have a ship to run. I think a pickup like this needs a dedicated handler. So will you do it? Can you? I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Singer nodded. “Okay, Seal. I will. Thank you.”

“Great,” Seal said. “I’ll assign the ledger to you. Medical and loading…everything except the pilots themselves. All through you, all right?”

“That’s a lot, Seal.” Singer straightened, looked serious. “But okay.”

Seal smiled. “Okay, I have to go. More details to attend. Thanks.”

Seal put Singer’s image away, still smiling. He frowned then, wondering if he had been too abrupt. He thought for a moment, shrugged, and queried Greels.

The outer ring of his desktop pulsed blue as he waited. Two, three, four, five pulses. Seal frowned again. It wasn’t the first time Greels had been difficult to reach. The ring froze blue, and then started pulsing again as it tried to reach Greels away from his desk.

It took four more pulses before Greels’s face appeared. He was clearly at one of the ship’s wall-mounted communication centers, though Seal couldn’t tell which one. One of the slideway intersections between bays, maybe? Greels still looked tired, and he had an arm partially in the picture. He was leaned over the screen.

“When did you sleep last?” Seal asked.

“Last night,” Greels coughed. “Why?”

“No reason.” From the look of Greels, he probably smelled bad too. “Listen, I put Singer in charge of the Amish pickup.”

Greels squinted. “The girl from the front? The stiff one?”

Stiff? Since when was Greels discriminating? “I needed someone to be a conduit.”

Greels looked off-screen both directions. As if distracted by something else going on.

“Greels?”

Greels glanced his way. “Yeah, that’s all fine. I’ll work with her.”

“So, where are you?”

“What?”

Seal sighed. “Where are you now?”

Greels remained leaning against the screen, but pointed. “Near Bay 17. You know, want to get that all ready. Cleaned up.”

Seal squinted at the image, thought the sign behind Greels read “16.” Frowned. “We’re less than a day away,” he said. “You’ll be ready by then?”

Greels finally pushed away from the screen. “Oh, absolutely, Captain. We’ll be there. Ready, I mean. Lots of confidence.”

Seal nodded. “Good. Great. So no problem with Singer?”

Another wave. “No problem. Whatever you want, boss.”

The connection ended. Seal shook his head. “Loaders…”

• • •

After a day spent checking over the horse mill, Jebediah returned home but found that Sarah was not in the house. It took some searching before he saw through the windows that she was seated on the back porch. She was in her favorite rocker, positioned in such a way that she could gaze over the fields at the setting sun. She wore a soft blue dress with a matching kapp. One arm was on an armrest, the other nestled firmly around her midsection.

Jebediah couldn’t help but smile. It was a beautiful moment. He was almost afraid to disturb it.

Quietly he opened the back door and stepped out. Sarah didn’t look up initially, she just kept watching the sun, her back to him. He stepped closer and gently touched her shoulders. She smiled and reached back for his hand. He began to massage.

“That feels nice,” she said. “Want to do my feet next?”

Jeb smiled. “Do they hurt already? I thought that wouldn’t be for months yet.”

She frowned as Jebediah stooped beside her chair. “Months before I get large and awkward, yes,” she said. “Months before I feel like someone’s sapping my energy, no.” She nodded at the distant circle of red. “I guess that’s a common problem now, though, right? Loss of energy.”

There was another rocker along the wall which he stepped back and collected, repositioning it so it was to Sarah’s left. Sat in it. “You know I don’t know,” he said. “It seems like it. All I know is the sun is changing.”

Sarah looked at him. “And you couldn’t share that with me. Any of it.”

Jeb looked at his feet, still wearing his work boots. “It was my burden. Why would I share that?”

“Why would you share it?” Fire glinted in her eyes. “Because I’m your wife, Jebediah. Because I’ll be the mother of your child.”

Jeb sighed. “I went over this with the men…”

“We’re married, Herr Miller. There should be no secrets. Nothing between us.” She shook her head. “A hidden machine. One you’ve known about your whole life?” She looked away from him, toward the sun. “So what happens next?”

Jeb began to rock. “Maybe nothing. I don’t know.”

“But something has to be done. Ezekiel told Miriam about the crops. About what the sun is doing to them.”

Jeb frowned. “So everyone is talking now?”

“Everyone is concerned, and they should be. Is this the Lord’s testing? Is it only a season?”

Jeb sighed. “I don’t think so…”

“So if your machine doesn’t work, what then?” She looked at him. “Would you know if it did anything to the sun? If it fixed it?”

Jeb nodded. “I did the same tests this morning. So far, no change.”

“And if nothing changes?”

Jeb shook his head. “Then that would be…ironic.”

“Jeb?”

“I mean, our entire way of life is based on resisting change. About guarding against it. Everything weighed by how it furthers unity. Yet here we are waiting, praying, for a dramatic change to occur. A miraculous change.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, we’re praying for things to go back the way they were. That’s not praying for change. It is praying for normalcy.”