Amish Vampires in Space (31 page)

Seal distracted himself. Looked down at his food. “The preparers are outdoing themselves tonight.” The brown square on his plate wasn’t real steak, but it absolutely tasted like it. Cut like it. And the vegetables, the carb dish…exquisite.

Singer brought a napkin to her mouth. Tapped it lightly. Smiled. “It is wonderful.”

The wall to Seal’s right displayed a simulation of a coastal dock scene. Calm water, lots of large boats gently rocking. Occasionally a bright bird would swoop into the picture. He thought the planet might be Reymal. “I wish we could see outside,” he said. “I never realized it before, but I enjoy reality. Not these simulations.” He sighed. “Except, now there’s the fog.”

Singer nodded. “It can be claustrophobic, can’t it? The ship.”

“I suppose that’s a good word for it. Even though the
Raven
is large, the fog makes it small.”

Singer nodded, drew quiet. “Yes, it is a small ship.”

Seal raised an eyebrow. “I suspect you’re alluding to something else.”

She speared a bite of her white meat-like substance and raised it to her lips. Glanced to her left. Chewed. “This isn’t allowed, what we’re doing.”

“Having lunch?”

She frowned, indicated them both with her fork. “Us, together. Like this.”

Seal’s turn to frown. “We discussed this. I’m suspending those rules.”

Singer sat back. “So you sent out a bulletin? Suspended it for everyone?”

Seal looked at the dock scene again. There was a city across the water, he noticed. Lights.

“Seal?”

“Of course not.” He motioned toward his chest. “Just in here. With us. I’ve suspended them. I need some flexibility.” A change.

“But we still have a schedule—”

He felt a touch of anger. Fought it back. “And we’ll make it. That’s my job.”

Singer shook her head. Took a drink from her glass. “Never mind, I don’t want to talk about our schedule. I’m sorry.” She noticed the wall scene now. Squinted at it. “I would’ve loved to live on the water like that.”

“On your homeworld…Newmarket, was it? Was it a dry place? We haven’t talked about it.”

She frowned. “Not worthy of discussion, really.”

“Of course it is. I want to know everything.”

“I’m sure you don’t. It was a boring place. And yes, dry.”

Seal nodded slowly. “You said there were farms. Animals, wide open spaces…doesn’t sound too boring to me. Sounds peaceful.”

Singer startled. “Really, sir? I would’ve never imagined…”

“I like to save some surprises. Keep you guessing.”

She smiled, chuckled a bit. “So do I.”

It gave him confidence. Helped. “Listen, I enjoy your company. You’ve taken some of the routine out of my life. And that’s a good thing, I think.” Since the planetary expansion so long ago, the protocol for relationships had gotten very messy. Complicated. Yet at the same time, regimented. There were lots of forms and applications. He hadn’t filled out any of them. He had started to research, and he’d found that the relationship ledger was larger than their cargo ledger. Exhaustive. “Problem is…I’m not sure where to go next.”

Singer shifted in her seat. “So we are going somewhere, then?”

“Well, I’d like to.” A smile. “I am a captain, after all. We go places.” He scratched his arm. “But first there’s the application for temporary cohabitation, then there’s the offspring matrix, the naming sub-ledger, the weekly and monthly status updates, the—”

“Cohabitation?”

Seal felt a flush of embarrassment. “That’s the first relevant form I could find. Or should we start with personality refraction? Probably should’ve done one of those already. See if either of us will injure the other. A trip to the splicers is typical these days too. Full mapping and overlay.” He frowned. “See, there is so much…”

Singer just stared at him. Hands clasped together over her plate. Not saying a word.

“What?”

She shook her head. “My expectations. I mean, I’m not sure…”

He leaned forward. “That would be helpful, yes. What do you expect?”

“Something different. Not that…list…whatever it was.”

Seal put down his silverware. Wiped his mouth with his napkin. “But I’m trying to do the right thing. At least, I think I am. Those items are the accepted way now. At least for Guild members.”

“Well, that’s not what I want.”

He nodded. “See, I need to know those things. We can start with what you want. That’d be good. There are different planetary traditions, obviously. Most of those were superseded by the Perlot Treaty…but still, we can allow for Newmarket customs. Are there any? Do you have different forms?”

Singer looked away, shook her head. Looked at Seal again. “I don’t want to cohabit with you, let’s start there.”

Seal drew back. “Oh, well that’s different.” He felt himself deflating, retreating into those insecurities. “A more casual relationship then? I have to admit, I had been hoping that…”

Singer’s eyebrows raised. “Not casual, no. Not at all.”

Seal paused. Stared at Singer. “Wait. You aren’t one of those romantics, are you? Have some inherent attachment to a value system? Like our cargo?”

“I’m not Amish, if that’s what you mean.”

Seal felt suddenly embarrassed, and he wasn’t sure why. “No, no, of course not. You use things. Technology. I know you’re not Amish.”

“But value systems bother you.”

This was not going well. Seal gripped the edge of the table for comfort. “Again, of course not. Guild rules incorporate a value system, after all. I just want to know if, you know, if there is something weird.”

“And what is ‘weird’?”

Seal looked at the seaside image again. The sky seemed darker. There were new clouds, as well. “Um…I don’t know. Devotion to a historical figure long dead, I guess. Like the Amish.”

“So you know what they believe?”

A frown. “I read your report. Did some research. There are a lot of dead Earthmen that influence them. There’s this Amman character…”

Singer nodded. “He was in favor of strong church discipline. Including shunning. Felt the Mennonites were drifting from sound teaching.”

Seal raised a finger. “Yes, that’s right. And then there was Isaiah Wellspring, who proposed the settlement of Amish colonies. And Felix Manz and Conrad Grebel and a palette of other oddly named characters.”

She shook her head. “Yes, but I don’t follow any of them.”

Seal smiled. Hope rose again. “See then. You’re not weird.”

“No, I don’t have any devotion to
dead
men.”

Seal relaxed. “A little romance is a good thing. A little mystery.”

Singer pushed her plate slightly forward. “I’m glad you think that. I’m a Christian.”

It was all playing better than he imagined.
His needs were being fulfilled in new ways. Whereas before, he’d thirsted for things, whereas he’d dug through packages to collect trinkets and shinies, now he—in essence—collected men. One by one, soul by soul. Men. And women.

Congi turned to look at the young beauty on his arm. Pale complexion, without facial enhancement of any sort, but clearly still beautiful. She was dressed in a simple grey dress tied at the hip. Nondescript in every way.

Yet to him, her body and face were alive with activity. Pulsing with color.

She was coming willingly, eyes hardly moving from his face. Devotion, pure and simple. It was more than he’d ever had from any woman in life. That alone would thrill him if it weren’t for the thirst. The thirst always dominated.

Enlisting David to his cause had been the best decision he’d ever made. True, the process felt a bit unnatural at times, a bit uncomfortable. But now the young man was every bit the servant that the goat was. It was nothing for him to share. And he would continue to share out of gratitude for the new life he had been given.

It was a new life, wasn’t it? A rebirth.

Congi led the Amish woman away from Bay 17, onto a minor slideway, and up to one of the major slides. From there, he took her on a short tour of the ship. There was nothing suspicious about their trip at all. Certainly some cameras would note his presence with the Amish woman, but he had friends in security. Close friends now. Additional servants. If he wanted to, he could steal anything in any bay. His power was growing.

Was he more powerful than the captain? Maybe not yet. But soon.

The woman’s eyes looked away from him, making a full sweep of their surroundings. She paused when she saw one of the dimly lit lesser bays passing them on the left. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth, reacting—he presumed—to the sheer size of the space.

A simple elbow touch brought her attention back to him. Ahead was a stopping point, brightly lit. She winced a bit at that too, but other than gripping his arm tighter, she stayed on course. Stayed with him. They reached that stopping point and continued on. Ten minutes later, they exited the major at another stop and descended to Congi’s floor.

“You are an amazing person,” the woman said. “To live in such a place. And to guide someone like me. To take your time.”

Congi smiled but made no response. He just blew into her face. Her eyes showed ecstasy. She returned the smile. Nodded.

They entered the hallway leading to his room. It was completely quiet. Most of his neighbors were working during this hour. He rarely worried about schedules anymore, but this lull in activity was convenient. He held the young lady tight. She smelled as if she’d recently washed. There was a hint of some spice—cinnamon, perhaps—around her as well. Had she scented herself especially for him? He wanted to think so.

A door ahead opened. A middle-aged man stepped out, dressed in dark pants and white shirt. He held an Amish hat in his hand. Bearded. Congi startled. What was an Amish man doing here? Hopefully not looking for the young woman. He had yet to use his newfound strength in violence. He was hoping not to start now.

He remembered the Amish woman he had met in the hall earlier. The one who had made him feel unsettled. Ah, yes, the outcasts! This must be where they were being quartered. How inconvenient.

The man froze when he saw Congi, staring hard at both him and the young woman. “Lucile?” he said finally. “Why are you here?”

At first, Lucile didn’t respond, but after a nudge from Congi, she turned to look in the man’s direction. “Who are you?” she asked.

The man placed his hat on his head, squinted. “I’m Jebediah Miller,” he said. “I used to mill your father’s grain…”

“Many pardons,” she said, dipping a bit at the knees. “Have you met my friend, Herr Congi?”

Jebediah acknowledged him with a slow nod. “I have not.” He didn’t offer his hand. Rude, but not uncommon for their guests. They were all a trifle standoffish. Doubtless afraid to touch an Englisher. To interact.

Congi contemplated using his breath, his pheromonal influence, but if he did so he risked losing some of his sway over Lucile. There were limits with the unconverted. Boundaries. He decided not to push it. He wanted the woman where he could give her his full attention. Trace her map of warmth. Feed his hunger.

“So, why are you here?” Jebediah asked again. “Away from your family? From the settlement?”

Congi sneered. “She could ask the same of you, couldn’t she?” He fought the tickle of hunger. The need. He hoped antagonism would cause the man to back off.

But it didn’t. Jebediah seemed to stand taller, in fact. “Have you been shunned, as well, Lucile?” he asked.

Lucile giggled. “Shunned? Oh, no, no. Shunning is for the lost. The faulty. I’m not either of those, am I, Congi?”

He smiled slightly. “Of course not.”

That seemed to deflate the man a bit. Clearly the sting of shunning was important to these people. Congi understood being an outsider, though. He’d played that role all his life. “Don’t take that personal, Mr. Miller.” Congi smiled. “Who needs them, right?”

Jebediah raised an eyebrow. “Pardon. Who needs who?”

“Those people,” Congi said. “The ones who put you and your wife out. You’re better on your own anyway.”

Jebediah glanced at the door he just exited. “I don’t know that I am. It is very different.”

Congi clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, you are, bub. Believe me.”

The contact seemed to unsettle Jebediah. He shrunk back a bit. Frowned. He addressed Lucile again. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “It isn’t right. Your reputation is at stake. The working out of your salvation.”

Congi sniffed. “Is that what
you’re
doing, Jebediah? Working out your salvation?”

The man paused. Clearly thinking now.

Congi took that moment to coax the young woman farther down the hall. She came willingly. Smiling both at him and at his Amish neighbor. They had only a few more doors to go, and he would be able to feast again. He felt a shiver of expectation. Hoped the woman didn’t sense his need, whether it would make a difference or not.

Jebediah took a step to follow. “Release her,” he said. “This instant.”

Lucile snuggled into him. “I want to be with him, Herr Miller. I like him. He likes me.”

Congi smiled. Pulled her close. “I do,” he said. “I really do.” He studied Jebediah. There was something fun about manipulating the man, without
really
manipulating him with his breath. “I’ve done some research. Don’t you have a thing where you allow young people their freedom? To go out and experience the world? Free of the rules?” He nodded. “The boring clothes?”