Amish Vampires in Space (41 page)

Darly’s eyes widened. “You want me to cut her open? With a knife? Like some archaic—”

“I assume you have other options for opening a body. But yes, that’s what I want you to do.”

“But she’ll refuse. She didn’t even want the scan.”

“Then sedate her.”

“Sir! That violates everything I swore—”

Seal waved a hand. “All superseded by Guild rubrics, which your patient,
any
crewmember, acknowledged when they came aboard. We need answers, Darly. Lots of them.”

She only stared at him. Rendered temporarily speechless.

“It doesn’t have to be too large a cut, does it?”

Darly seemed to recover a bit. “No…probably not. No…” She looked down. “Well, it depends on what we want to know.”

“Start with diseases first. Whatever you need there.”

Darly nodded. “Okay, I can perform some discreet biopsies. See what I find.”

Seal nodded. “But be prepared to go further.”

She shook her head. “Sir, I…”

“It is for the safety of the ship. And our schedule. That’s what’s most important.”

Darly nodded. Ended the call.

Seal sighed, sat back. Looked at the pictures on his wall. The awards. One in particular caught his eye. It said “Gold Medal Decision Maker.” He’d almost forgotten about that one. Forgotten when he’d received it. Probably for that time when he’d found a way to reduce load time by beginning the process before they were officially stopped. There were some union issues there, of course. Some issues with morale. Something.

The award surprisingly didn’t seem important now. Seemed almost undeserved.

He frowned and brought up the communication ledger. Tried to contact the bubble again.

He waited.

And waited.

Jeb stood waiting near the communicator
mounted on the wall. On his right a group of Amishers sat along an exit stairway that led to a lower level. The rest shared the small landing area with him. Amishers of all ages and descriptions. Young and old, male and female, predominately light in skin color, but not completely so. There was still an occasional outburst or sob over what they’d experienced, spoken grief for lost family members. But most were now quiet, staring at the ground or at each other.

It was a sad, terrible day. One like they’d never seen. Such violence perpetrated by their own? Unheard of. And now…what?

“We must not think evil of them,” Samuel cautioned. “They are our bruders and schwestern. Our neighbors and friends.”

Mark searched the faces of the group. “Perhaps we should sing while we wait,” he said.

Jeb frowned, smoothed the back of his head. Realized how much he missed his hat. How odd he felt here without it. He turned to look at the moving slideway. Anything or anyone could get off it. “I don’t know if that’s a wise notion,” he said.

Mark scratched his beard on the side. “Why not?”

“Because we don’t know what’s out there.” He nodded at the slideway. “Anyone could find us.”

“But we’ve separated ourselves,” Mark said. “Shut them in…”

Samuel raised his hands. “I believe a song is exactly what we need. The devil hates it when we sing praises to Gott. So let us sing! Something from Bauman, I think.” He began to sing, moving one hand slowly as he did so. For a few moments he was joined by only Mark, but then others joined in. It was a sorrowful tune. One of being chased and driven. Of sneaking around like a mouse, and friends who forsake. Being sold into the hands of enemies.

Jeb had to admit, it was appropriate. But all he could think of was his Sarah. While the song continued he took out his folded map and studied it. They were not far from where he and Sarah stayed. Perhaps he should just go to her. Let the ship’s security folks take the others wherever they would. He was not their leader, after all. He was still shunned.

And he might never be a part of them again. The notion startled him, but he realized it was probably true. Did that mean he was lost? Bound for hell? That’s what Amisher tradition implied. He felt sorrow, a twinge of hopelessness.

A portion of the landing area’s wall was transparent in both directions, as were the sides of the tube itself. Jeb’s view was partially obscured by the others in the landing, so he moved to a place where he could watch down the length of the slideway’s tube-like structure. Soon the security men would come to escort them. Then he could return to Sarah.

Another thought clicked, and he started to feel more anxious. Their neighbor! The man who was with the Amisher girl. He
had
to be one of the afflicted too, didn’t he? It would explain his strange behavior. The girl’s behavior too. He glanced over at the wall communicator. Could he call Sarah to warn her to not open the door? Would she talk to the desk?

He noticed the shadow of someone in the tube traveling toward them. He glimpsed grey headgear and what looked like a rifle. Possibly it was two people. One shorter than the other.

He glanced at his map again. Nodded his head. They’ve arrived then.

The Amishers stopped singing as the security guards stepped off the slide. It was a male and a female, actually. Both had helmets on their heads. And carried silver guns. The woman scanned the faces of those in the landing. “Which of you is Jebediah?” she asked.

Jebediah stepped forward, only to have Samuel step in front of him. “I am sorry,” Samuel said. “He is not one of us. He cannot lead us.”

The woman frowned but looked in Jebediah’s direction. “You’re him, right? I remember you from the meeting.”

Jebediah nodded. “I am.”

She nodded. “I’m Danielle. We’re here to escort you, all right?”

Jeb returned the nod. “Yes, that will be good.” He held up his map. “I would like to return to my wife also.”

Danielle squinted. “And where is she?”

He turned the map so she could see. “I made a drawing of your ship.” He pointed to what he knew to be the rear section. “We have a place in this area here.”

She nodded. “That’s a pretty good map you have there. The new spot they have for your people is here.” She pointed to a spot more to the front of the ship. “We can take you to your place after we finish there, okay?”

Jeb nodded. “That will be adequate. Thank you.”

She nodded again and waved a hand toward the slide. “Okay, everyone, let’s start moving this way.” She indicated the other guard, a man who seemed to dwarf her. “My companion, Haden, is going to lead the way in the slide. After he gets in, I want everyone to form a line behind him. Single file, please. No pushing, no hurrying. Just line up and step on. There is a handrail if the motion bothers you. Any questions?”

Samuel put both hands in front of his waist. Looked serious. “And where are you taking us?”

“To a large cafeteria. A temporary place until we can get this situation worked out.”

“Will there be many of your people there?” he asked.

“No, not many.” Danielle frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“But this place, it is a cafeteria Englishers use regularly, ya?”

Her frown deepened. “I suspect they’ll close it. Send people elsewhere.”

Samuel didn’t look convinced. But he nodded anyway.

Haden approached the slide and prepared to step on.

Danielle’s waving got more pronounced. “Okay, if there are no more questions, we will begin loading now. One at a time, please.”

There were uneasy looks passed around. Sadness in staying, and in going. And fear, Jebediah knew. Fear of changes that seemed to never end. He looked at Samuel, still standing as he was. Watching but saying nothing. Lost in his own thoughts. Mark looked at him, of course. Always followed him. Even though Jeb and Mark had been close at one time.

Jebediah said nothing. Just approached the slideway. With a nod, Haden stepped on, and Jeb followed. He watched behind him as he moved. A few moments passed and no one entered. He said nothing, but he wanted to. Wanted to encourage them on. But he was no leader. Just a shunned miller who’d had a secret.

“Let’s go then,” he heard someone say. First Mark, and then Samuel stepped on behind him. Probably a good seven feet behind him. Others filed in, one after another. Their community—what was left of it—moving as one again.

Together.

• • •

Congi reclined heavily on his bed. He’d just finished feasting—another young Amish woman whom he’d sent staggering away. Back to the bay where she belonged. Now he would rest, think. Plan.

His animals, what he liked to think of as his pets, sat together on one wall. Along with the original goat, there was now a dog and another hen that Congi had let the goat convert as an initial test. It was an odd picture, the three sitting together, but he found it entertaining. They kept their eyes always on him. Obeyed his every command as if they spoke his language.

Servants were important to existence, obviously. The difficulty was in keeping all of them feeling special, even when, in the end, they were all disposable. Pawns in the ultimate goal.

Survival.

He was startled by a knock at his door. The knock was followed by a digital whistle from the outside pad. He groaned. He had contemplated joining the others. Moving to the larger bay, but that had seemed backwards somehow. He needed new quarters, yes, but he wasn’t going to move in with the lowly servants. Not yet. He had bigger goals in mind.

He shook his head and stood. He walked to the interior pad and checked the image from outside. It was the diminutive intern, and he looked anxious. Sweating. “Foley.”

Frowning, Congi opened the door. He checked both directions outside before letting the young man in. “Why are you here?”

“I was almost captured.”

“And you came here? Risked exposing me?”

“I knew you’d know what to do. You’re the—”

Congi gave him an icy stare. “Never visit me. If you need a place to hide, go to the bay. I understand it is ours now. But not here.”

Foley lowered his head. His eyes sought the ground. “I’m sorry. I was frightened.”

“There is no reason to be frightened now. You’re more than you ever were before. You’re a survivor.”

Congi thought about how many had been converted now. Frowned. That was a mistake. Letting David run the show in Bay 17 had been a mistake. It always should’ve been a balancing act. If the predators outnumbered the prey, the predators would turn on each other. It wasn’t that different from the supply and demand philosophy he’d followed with his old line of work.

Thankfully, they would have more prey soon. A few more days, and Obelisk. Then anything would be possible. It was good to plan ahead, though. To get things under control. Some things the Amish did were useful. Portions of their life could be adapted.

He touched Foley’s chin, raised his face so he could look him in the eyes. “I need you to convey something to David. Make sure he understands the danger we’re in now.”

Foley nodded. Still looked jittery. Nervous.

“Who was it?” Congi said. “Who tried to get you?”

“My old boss,” Foley said. “Mr. Greels.”

Congi scowled. “Greels…and why would
he
be involved? Tell me what happened. Everything.”

Foley prattled on for many minutes. Detailing his stalking of the girl. His feasting. A portion of that was proper. Foley wasn’t a complete screw-up. More servants in the office pool…was good. But the choice of venue. The response.

“And the young lady, what was her name?”

“Candle.”

“She was taken?”

Foley shrugged. “I just ran.”

“So you still gave them what they wanted. Just not you.”

Another shrug. A nervous shake of the head.

“And they’re probably studying her now…” Congi had read a few books in his youth, typically stolen books. He remembered stories of old kings and generals. A position that he supposed he now found himself in. Those who survived many battles always had one thing in common.

Adaptability.

Congi, walked to the reflective surface that was built into the wall near the excretorium. Checked his look in it. He still looked presentable in his middle-tier Guild blues. Nice shirt and pants. Would the doctor approve? He thought so. He turned to look at Foley. “About that message to David?” he said.

“Yes,” Foley said, nodding.

Congi looked past Foley to the animals by the wall. They immediately stood. The dog lowered its head and the goat’s tongue extended. The chicken only stared.

Congi smiled. “I’ll deliver it myself.”

The goat hit first, and then the dog. The chicken clucked and flapped, but eventually it feasted. As did they all.

• • •

Darly lost track of time. She could tell it was late in her shift because her communicator had chimed two hours ago, reminding her to make her final rounds. She immediately called one of the nurses and assigned him the task. They only had one additional patient with them, after all. The injured security guard, and he’d been resting peacefully the entire time.

So far,
he
seemed normal. In every test. Normal. White blood count equivalent to the wounds he received. Plus, the scanner worked fine on him. Darly was able to digitally walk through every organ and system. Get the full ledger of percentages. There were a few anomalies, of course, but everyone had some. He was a normal human being.