Amish Vampires in Space (6 page)

“Hello, young men, how are we?” Seal asked.

The man on the left startled and pulled away from the desk. Rubbed his left eye with a palm. His face showed a dull redness where his hands had been.

The other—the pilot—simply looked up from his reading. “Oh, hello, Captain,” he said, smiling politely.

His compatriot stretched both arms over his head. “What brings you to see us?”

Seal tried to ignore the still waking co-pilot. At least they were both wearing clothes. Their shirts—which
should be
dress shirts with a company-logo vest or top coat—were short sleeve, but still presentable. They were solid dark colors. Happily, they didn’t bear the insignia of the latest shock band. “We need to make a stop at Maple,” Seal said.

Now hugging himself, the co-pilot frowned. “Maple system? That’s
Osprey
’s route.”

Seal squinted for the name tag—which, thankfully, was in place. “Egan,” it read. “Yes, but they’re too far out,” he said. “This is special rate delivery.”

The pilot, “Perth,” shot Egan a look. “Don’t spoil it, Egan. This is a chance to cut grey for a day. Don’t complain.”

Egan shrugged. “Just quoting the roster, sir. Don’t want to crush any toes.”

Perth uncrossed his legs. Grabbed his pants at the knees and straightened them. Crossed his arms. “About twenty,” he said to Seal.

“The propellant costs?”

Perth nodded. “Yes, that’s my guess. It is the drop from slip that costs you.” He pointed absently. “In-system maneuvers aren’t so bad. Reaching slip again, not bad. But the stop really wears on the engine. Costs us fuel.”

Seal only nodded. He was well aware of typical start and stop costs. He’d been a pilot once himself. A long time ago. When he was about twenty pounds lighter.

It was best to let the pilot tell him, though. Gave him something to do. A role.

“Can we have some time at Maple?” Egan asked. “Time to stretch our legs? Maybe a few days?”

Seal shook his head. “Just long enough for pickup,” he said. “You guys know that.”

Egan feigned a pout. “But, Captain…” He gestured toward the canopy and the fog. “Look at that. Could you stand it?”

“I’ve done it,” Seal said. A smile. “We’ll have time at Obelisk. I promise.”

“That’s ten days out,” Perth said. “After the Maple stop.”

Seal nodded. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“And nothing remarkable in between,” Egan said. “Just oceans of grey.” Of the two, Egan was slighter, and years younger. His pants barely fit him. “I’ll go goofy.”

Seal resisted rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Goofy!”

Seal frowned, placed a foot on the upper rung of the ladder. “Just make it happen, okay?”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Egan looked across at Perth. “Did you like that? It is a nautical reference, I think.”

“Brilliant.”

“Yes…” Seal said, and descended out of sight.

• • •

Congi didn’t even look up from his meal.

He was in one of the
Raven
’s small lounges and had two quickfood bags opened on the table in front of him. A sweet and a salty, his favorite complements. He’d been alternating between them. Enjoying the experience. So he ignored the woman’s comment completely.

She repeated herself. “Mart said you could get things.”

It was better to make customers wait, Congi knew. It was a good way to measure them. To understand what they were about. Their motives. And the more he knew, about everything, the better.

A huff. “Okay, sorry, maybe I was wrong.”

Congi held up a hand. Followed with his eyes. The woman was moderately attractive. Shorter. Medium-brown hair. Dressed in a solid blue shirt and khaki pants. Nametag said “Danielle.”

Congi rarely wore his nametag. His typical outfit was what he had on now: faded jeans and t-shirt. Today’s shirt bore the company tagline—
Do what you do—we’ll move you
. “You know Mart?” he said.

“Yeah, from security.”

Congi nodded, a bit uncomfortable. He’d been working the
Raven
for longer than any of the others. Effectively. Safely. That meant being tactful.

“Could you get me something for my nephew? It doesn’t have to be much.”

Congi raised an eyebrow. “What, a ball or something? Because the ship’s store has some of them. They say ‘Shipping Guild’ right on them.”

Danielle shook her head. “No, not something like that. Something unique. Maybe something technical. He’s real smart. Likes science.”

Congi looked down and brushed the crumbs off his shirt. Middle-aged, thinning on top, and a bit thick around the center, he knew he wasn’t going to charm anyone with his physical appearance. But he was special nonetheless. He had something everyone needed. “I’ve got some asteroid fragments,” he said. “Want those? High iron.”

Danielle frowned. “He already has some, I think. The kid has everything.”

Congi frowned. “Might take some looking.
Lots
of looking. Time.”

“And that means expensive, right?”

Congi took another green chip from the salty bag. Crunched on it. Looked bemused. “Probably you should go. I’ve got my lunch to finish. A job to do.”

Her eyes widened. “No, that’ s okay. Mart says you’re worth it. Says what you get is good. Whatever price you think is fair is fine.”

He brushed his shirt again. “I’m a little more flexible when someone isn’t specific.” He flashed a smile. Made a small rectangle with his hands. “So something whizpop, say about half a meter or less?”

She nodded.

“And does it need to function? ‘Cause I’m not sure I’ll know.”

“Just something exotic. Something he can’t get on the netstream back home.”

Congi nodded. Picked up his napkin and rubbed his hands hard. Said nothing.

“So you’ll help?”

“You can go.”

Danielle looked confused. Hovered.

Congi frowned. “I’ll look.”

She smiled brightly. Looked like she might hug him. “Thanks so much.”

He nodded. “And tell Mort I’ll find something for him too.”

The woman nodded and hurried away.

Congi sat silently for a moment. Studied the empty bags in front of him. Finally, he smashed them together. Grunted. “Time to work.”

Seal stood just past the entrance to Bay 16.
Overhead, the entire bay was open to space. He could see the distant double stars of the Maple system locked in their slow forever rotation. There were countless stars visible, along with the extended tail of a comet now headed away from the suns.

More obvious, though, was the smartloader. Its rectangular bulk filled half the visible area above. It was a robotic vehicle used for extremely large or awkward packages. Seal was a bit disappointed that the pickup had come to this. That it required this level of handling. But that was neither here nor there. It would all be applied to the costs. And since the Science Consortium was paying to move the gear from their outpost and whatever accident it had suffered, there was no problem with that.

It was the
time
he couldn’t get back. They had a schedule to meet. A few days could be made up within the slip, but…

The package itself was suspended via the loader’s purely mechanical hand. It was a cube about twenty meters square, and properly wrapped in white. Large, but completely nondescript, aside from an external shipping label. Some generic scientific gear inside, probably. Seal would’ve preferred the use of a gravity lock to move it, but the order had specifically requested manual operation. It was a common requirement. A few gravity lock mishaps decades ago had made a galaxy of customers superstitious.

As a precaution, Seal wore a grey Tingle cap—complete with bill and company logo—along with matching gloves, belt, and boots, an entire Tingle suit. Combined, the clothing produced a body-shaped force field. It was enough to protect Seal from any stray radiation while the bay doors were open. The Tingles also protected against hard damage—if he bumped into a wall, for instance, or accidentally dropped something on his foot.

It wasn’t enough to keep him from being squished to death if the package dropped on him though. He was standing well back from that.

The Tingle belt also circulated fresh oxygen within the field. With it on, he could walk in space, if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

Standing near him was Greels, one of the loading supervisors. He was a short man, thin and past middle age. Greels wore a Tingle suit too. In his hand, he held a camera that sent distance measurements to the loader. It was strictly a precaution in this case. There was a lot of clearance, and Bay 16 was only half full. Lots of room.

Plus, the gravitation field in the bay had been turned off for this operation. Gravity complicated everything.

Slowly the arm descended with the package. Effortlessly it placed it on the floor.

“It’s a big one, isn’t it?” Greels said.

Seal heard the words through his Tingle hat. They seemed to hover just above his ear. “Is this the whole science facility?” he asked. “Everything?”

“All that was left,” Greels said. “I’m not sure how much compression they applied prior to packaging. I assume it was vacuum-packed.” Greels raised an eyebrow. “They’re planning on reconstructing elsewhere…?”

“Reconstructing and investigating, yes,” Seal said. “That’s what I heard. They have all the remaining evidence inside.” Behind where the package was placed was a long and almost ceiling-high row of previously stored bundles, all sealed in white. This new addition would be the cap piece on the end.

Seal raised his left foot and checked the shoe. Though it resembled a simple work boot, the Guild-customized Tingle was much more than that. Aside from the field it helped maintain, it could be magnetized. A blue light on the side indicated the magnet was on. He checked the right foot. It was on, as well. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Make it slide.”

Each Bay had an overhead control room that received the Tingle-band. Usually the controllers were responsive, but sometimes they just slept. Controllers saw only a bit more action during transit than pilots did. Seal was relieved to hear “Friction neutralized, Captain.”

He nodded, and together he and Greels approached the near side of the rescue package. With no gravity and the floor’s friction removed, they were able to easily slide it back into position. Together they checked to see that it was properly centered. Very little room was left between it and the packages on the adjacent rows, but very little was needed.

It was an almost perfect fit. Seal smiled. Efficient use of space.

Greels met him at the front of the package. He was frowning and shaking his left hand.

Seal grinned. “What is it?” he asked. “Pinch a finger?” They both wore gloves, after all. Finger damage tended to be minimal during loading operations. Thanks to Tingle wear,
all
damage tended to be minimal.

Greels flexed his hand. Shook it again. “Felt cold to me.”

Seal grimaced. “The package?” Tingle gloves allowed some temperature differences through. Some sense of touch was deemed helpful, so it was configured in. Never enough to bring discomfort, though.

“Yeah, it felt cold,” Greels said. “Did it feel cold to you?”

Seal shook his head. “Didn’t notice, no. Space is awful cold, though.”

Greels glanced up at the package. “Supposed to be insulated for space, right? Large packages. They shouldn’t absorb it or radiate it.”

Seal shrugged. “I know the cryo unit isn’t in there.” He nodded upward. “Should be coming in on a slide soon. It is small enough.” Overhead, the loader had withdrawn, and now the door had begun to close. As he watched, the comet’s tail was obscured, followed by the suns, and then space altogether. A few moments later, yellow ceiling lights began to flash. Gravity returned, and the latticework of slides descended over the rows of containers. He and Greels moved away as slides fell into position near them.

Far above, toward the center of the ship, Seal thought he saw movement—the placing of a package on the slide. “Ah,” he said. “I think this is it now.”

• • •

The cryomatrix was rectangular and stood a meter higher than Seal. It was two meters wide, and about the same in depth. As per shipping specs, it was completely white-sealed, but it had a removable inspection flap on the top end.

Seal had requested the onboard medical official meet them in Bay 16. It was a requirement for all living cargo. Thankfully, she was prompt.

The med official’s name was Darly. She was a slight woman, Asian in descent, and she carried a square medicinal assistant in one hand. She was outfitted in a medical variant of the Guild uniform, grey where it otherwise would be blue. Instead of the Guild bird glyph on her shirt, there was a squiggle that, to some, suggested a snake. Seal just saw a squiggle.

Greels was still present as well. The package had yet to be pushed back to its final storage place. Greels had to be there for that. Union rules.

All the Tinglewear had been removed and stored, though. Seal was glad about that.

Darly spent a few minutes just walking around the package. It appeared she was looking for any breaks in the exterior wrap. It was the same procedure he and Greels had already followed, but he guessed it was proper. If nothing else, it showed she was a good Guild employee.