Amish Vampires in Space (43 page)

Yet there was something…intangible, about her. It went beyond confidence.

The frizard climbed out of the water and onto the simulated tree perch. Looked up at Seal. Shifted its head nervously. Flicked its tongue.

Seal clenched his hands. The bubble! The pilots were what was most important. He needed to reach them. He walked to the desk again. Pushed forcefully on the call indicator for the pilot’s bubble. The desk ring flashed red. Once, twice.

A connection square materialized from the void. Wavered, then resolved into an image of Perth. He was reclining in his pilot’s chair with his arms leisurely folded in his lap. His clothes looked rumpled and the collar of his uniform was turned up to hide his neck. His face wore a scowl. “Why are you calling?” he asked.

Seal squinted. “Why am I—? Would you like to rephrase that question, pilot?”

Perth’s scowl continued. “Not really.”

Seal chest began to burn. “You clearly need some time away from that chair,” he said. “Where’s Egan?”

Perth sniffed. Reached off screen. “Hey, Egan! Captain wants to see you.”

No response. Perth shrugged, threw up his hands. “He’s been tired lately. Hungry.” He gestured between himself and the off-screen Egan. “We’re both hungry.”

Seal’s insides felt empty. Anxious. “Are we still on schedule?”

Perth straightened in his seat. “Oh, certainly, Captain. Straight on to Obelisk. Only, what…” he looked to his right side, adjusted something… “two days out.” He stretched his arms out. “I can’t wait to get there myself. Get out of this place.” He bobbed his head. “This fog.”

“Is that right?”

Perth pushed at the invisible Egan again. This time, Seal heard a grunt. “Oh, yeah, we have big plans, don’t we, Egan? See things. Meet people.” A smile. “Everyone has plans.”

“Everyone?”

“Sure! All of us. We’re like a family. This group.”

I’ve lost the ship, Seal realized with the chill of lost commendations. The infection is everywhere. There are no guarantees now. Not anywhere. Not anyone. He tried to keep the dread off his face, out of his voice. “Our group?”

Perth chuckled. “Not
your
group, captain.
Our
group. The little hive we’ve established up here.”

Seal pictured the pilot’s bubble and the maze of cubicles below it. The ship’s office help. How many of them were infected too? He thought of Singer again. Hurriedly had his desk begin to contact her. Just to be sure. He said nothing to Perth, though. Just stared at his now-smiling image. Held his breath.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” Perth said. “You look like you’re coming down with something. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“I’m fine,” Seal said. No response from Singer yet.

Perth pointed a finger. “Well, no matter what, sir, you can count on us. We will get this ship to where it is supposed to go. We won’t miss a stop.” He pushed at the out-of-sight Egan again. “Isn’t that right, Egan?” Another grunt. “We’ll get there on time. Absolutely.” A smile. “So leave the piloting to us.”

Seal found himself distracted by the call indicator for Singer. Watched it continue to try. He didn’t even look at the pilot again when he said, “Very good,” and ended the connection. He only watched for Singer. He needed one thing to still be right. One thing to still be as it should be. A glimmer of light.

He waited. And hoped.

• • •

Sarah didn’t feel right. She tried lying in bed, praying, but the feeling wouldn’t subside. She was anxious, obviously. Afraid for Jebediah. But was that all of it? The sharp aches and pains? The waves of discomfort that traveled down her midsection?

Sarah pushed herself out of bed. The child was still very small. Too small to arrive. Not enough time had passed. She searched the room’s blue ceiling. The lights were dimmed, because that somehow felt better to her. She’d become more sensitive to everything. To light, odor. She felt a wave of pain. Winced. Put a hand on her midsection. Tried to breath deep. Push the feeling away.

She missed everyone. She needed the experience of the older women. Their words of wisdom. Amidst all their recent upheavals, she had one change coming that eclipsed everything else. Yet she had no one to talk to about it.

She walked to the desk that Jeb was so fond of. There was a chronometer in the lower left corner, a depiction of a round silver clock. The drawing was so fine, so precise, that she could almost imagine it was real. That she could just pick it up and hold it in her hand. Incredible, these Englisher devices.

The clock followed the ship’s representation of time. There was no correlation between it and their measure of time on Alabaster. But why would there be? Alabaster was only one of many planets. And it was lost to them now. She supposed the clock represented
some
world’s time. But perhaps not. Perhaps there was no concrete form of anything anymore.

Regardless, the clock told her one thing: It had been many hours since Jebediah had left. It was now well into the afternoon. She’d thought he might try to call her, but so far, nothing. It was also the case that he might not know
how
to call her. The only call he’d ever made, to the captain, had been completely by accident.

She felt a wave of anxiety. Another twinge of pain. She leaned over the desk. Looked hard at the darkness it illustrated. Waved her right hand across it.

Small images appeared everywhere. At one point, Jeb had showed her how he’d found the ship’s map. She frowned. Squinted. Did she remember that now? Which image brought it to life?

There were a lot of images. A confusing amount of them. How had Jeb figured out anything?

She scanned from left to right, a row at a time. Images both strange and familiar. Finally, she thought she saw it. Circular, with a dissecting skeleton. She held her finger over it. What would happen if she were wrong? What change would she bring about? Who would
she
accidentally call?

She shrugged and pressed the circle. She held her finger there, waiting for something to happen. After a few seconds, a model of the ship emerged. She smiled. Studied it. Tried to focus without being overwhelmed. It was extremely complex. Like looking inside a dead animal.

The framework had a large red X indicated on it, though. Doubtless her current location. She remembered the specific number of the bay the settlement was occupying—seventeen. The place where Jebediah was supposed to go. The rectangles of the large bays had numbers on them. They alternated from one side of the ship to the other. One here, two there, three here,
etc.
She counted through them until she found seventeen on the map. Tried to get an idea how to connect her X to that location. It didn’t look too bad.

Another pain struck her. Stronger than the last, she thought. More intense.

She felt fear again. Shook her head. Leaned hard against the desk. She needed to find Jebediah. She should’ve gone with him in the first place. She studied the map until she was certain she knew the way. It was simple enough. Very few turns.

Her kapp was on the arm of the chair to her right. She retrieved it and fit it into place. She checked her look in the reflective wall near the excretorium. Noted that she looked a trifle flushed. Tired. The kapp looked fine, though. She frowned, nodded, and opened the door.

This shouldn’t take long.

• • •

Darly took a step back, shielding her chest with her medpad. Then, when she realized what she was doing, she clutched it even tighter. Tried to hide how off-kilter she felt. “What do you want?” she asked.

Congi’s hair was slicked back and he wore a medium blue button-down shirt. His pants were a slightly darker shade but still seemed to match perfectly. Both were regulation Guild wear, but way beyond the typical dress for a maintenance man. Not that different from the last time she’d seen him, though.

He stood in the entrance to the examination room, blocking her way to the hall. He smiled at her.

“Again,” she said. “What do you want?”

The smile broadened. “I’m here to help you.”

There was a wave of floral fragrance. An unforgettable scent. The same crushed roses smell Darly had experienced in Congi’s presence before. She wanted to breathe deeply, to just absorb the smell. But part of her, a place deep in her brain, warned her to keep it out. To not let the scent in.

She shook her head, brought a hand to her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but you shouldn’t be in here.” She motioned toward Candle. “This young lady has an infection. And I’ve yet to determine the cause.” She motioned him back. “We should both go out. And possibly wear masks.”

Congi wrenched his head back. “Masks?” he said. “I don’t like
masks
.”

She fanned the air near her nose. “Sometimes they’re necessary. They can protect us.”

Congi took a step forward, turned to study the patient. “What are her symptoms?” he asked. “She appears normal.”

Darly still clutched her medpad. If given a second, she could use it to call security. A simple double finger-press maneuver. She would need only to take her hand away from her face. And to glance at the pad itself. But right now, she was having a hard time drawing her gaze away from Congi’s eyes. They were dark. Incredibly handsome. Like tiny black holes.

She shook her head. Forced her gaze away.

Congi drew closer. “Why are you covering your face?” he asked. “Is my breath bad?”

“Why are you here?” She managed to look at her medpad. Acted as if she were checking something. She found she couldn’t interact with it, though. She couldn’t even bring her fingers up. “You don’t have an appointment.” A diversion. A hopeless feint.

“As I said, I’m here to help. With your investigation.” A smile. “Here now. I know something of this disease.”

She looked at the floor. Using the tiles to guide her, she took a step back toward the patient’s table. “You do?”

“Yes, lots of information.” He stretched an arm toward her. “Come, I’ll show you.”

She shook her head. “I really don’t have time for this.” She needed to at least get behind the examination table. Use it as a second shield. She took another step and realized she could hear Candle’s breathing. The frequency seemed to be increasing. Was she waking up?

“We’re all related, you know,” Congi said. “With only a few variations, we all have the exact same DNA. The same controlling structures.”

“Is that true?” Even though Congi hadn’t moved any closer to her, she had the feeling he was crowding her. Drawing the air from the room. Or somehow pressing it all up against her. She wasn’t certain. She just felt wrong. Vulnerable.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Yet humans spin this roulette wheel to create new ones. A genetic meat grinder.” He shook his head. “It is inefficient, this merging of genetic material. Prone to errors.”

She managed to get behind the examination table. She glanced at Candle. Her face looked flushed, almost to the point of looking sunburnt. Her breathing was still very rapid. “It has worked well so far…” Now Darly thought she could hear Candle’s heart beating.
Thumpity, thumpity, thumpity.

Congi frowned. “That is open to debate.” He paused, crossed his arms, studied her. “Some animals communicate chemically,” Congi said, “Did you know that? Take ants, for instance. Lacking verbal ability, obviously, but possessed of a highly developed use of pheromones.”

The speed and volume of Candle’s heartbeat increased, so much that Darly wanted to bring her hands to her ears. Congi’s odor was everywhere now. It was like falling into a basket of roses. She glanced at him. He seemed irresistible yet deplorable. She wrestled with herself for control. She was sweating. Uncomfortable.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Then silence. Darly looked at Candle. She was completely still. Didn’t appear to be breathing.

What had just happened? Darly searched Congi’s face. What had he done?

He leaned back against the doorjamb with a bemused look. Crossed his arms. “That was fun.”

Darly bent over Candle and felt her neck for a pulse. When she found nothing, she tried the wrist too. She then put her ear to Candle’s chest. Silent. Empty. Vacant.

Dead.

Darly shook her head, tried to fend off the roses. The distraction. She set her medpad on the edge of the table and placed her hands on Candle’s chest. Tried to start basic CPR. Her arms felt weak, though. She could barely compress the chest. She was afraid to breathe into the young woman. Afraid of the contact. “What did you do?” she asked. “How?”

“I’m helping,” he said. “Helping you. Helping me.” He pushed away from the door. Took a step in her direction. “You seem very tired to me, Darly.” He indicated Candle. “This complication, this search for answers, you really don’t need to pursue it. Better to just let it go. To simplify.”

He had killed Candle without touching her. Stopped her heart. Her breathing.

Darly numbly shook her head. “No.” She reached for her medpad again. Tried to focus on the screen. On what she needed to do.

“I’ll give you what you’re looking for, believe me,” Congi said. “A new life. New purpose.” He opened his arms welcomingly, drew closer.

She could do nothing.

• • •

Singer stood at the slideway stop. She felt a little nervous. Strange. The only sounds she could hear were the low hum of the crossover slide that ran in front of her and the fainter hum of the long blue slide to her left. And even though the small room was lit and the tubes themselves were lit, it felt really dark to her here. Really secluded.

She never felt
really
alone, though. Not the kind of loneliness she sensed in others. The reserved Darly…or the bombastic Greels. Both seemed sad and lonely, despite their masks.

She brought her com device up and tried to contact security again. Got no response. Frowned. She knew they were busy. Aside from those who were escorting the Amish, there was another group that was supposedly checking on Bay 17. Trying to contact the leaders. See what was going on.

Singer prayed they’d be safe. That they wouldn’t run into anything
too
dangerous. But from what Jebediah had described…