Amish Vampires in Space (14 page)

“Can’t be right.” Greels had been on his way. If he’d found the open package, Congi’s things, he would’ve pitched a fit. Written him up on the spot.

Maybe the date had been set wrong before he’d passed out. He thought the date was constantly synced with ship’s time. But he could be wrong. Tech had never been his thing.

Regardless, he needed to hurry. He made a last check of the interior, climbed out through the opening, and stepped into the bay. It felt good to stand upright. To stretch his legs. He scanned the bay around him. The lights seemed dimmer but otherwise everything was the same. His push cart was just where he’d left it.

He remembered pain…

He checked his hand again. Saw the mix of green, red, and black on his glove. He scowled, removed both gloves, and tossed them in the cart’s incinerator.

He felt along his neck and shoulders. Then down his sides and lower back. There was a little stiffness from having slept in such cramped quarters, but otherwise nothing. Strange. What had happened? He shook his head again. He didn’t have time to think about it. He had his sack of stuff and he needed to go. He examined the hole he had cut. Still looked fairly clean, even after climbing in and out through it.

He retrieved the molecutter from the rack, squatted, and after smoothing the cut portion of the seal with his hand, pressed the molecuttor to it. A quick switch put it in repair mode. A green light signaled the change. He put it to the surface and slowly followed the cut. In less than a minute, the cut was repaired. The sealing material looked completely smooth and tear-free.

Congi spend a long minute examining his work, just to be sure. He then shoved the cutter and his bag of “found” goods into the rack, making sure they were back far enough that they weren’t obvious. He placed a few other tools over them to help conceal them. Satisfied, he nodded, and hurried to the door.

All in all, it had been a pretty good day.

They met at Bishop Samuel’s house again
. None of the Englishers were invited. It was the same group that had met with Jebediah before, minus his friend Ezekiel. Jeb sat at one end of the long table, but no one sat at the other. To his left were Samuel and Mark. To his right, James and Abraham. This configuration, Samuel felt, would be more equitable. Jeb couldn’t see how. He was still at the foot of the table. And the center of attention.

The discussion had gone on before he’d arrived, though. For hours. He didn’t understand how it could take that long. Their sun was dying—what choice did they have?

The meeting started with prayer, and after the heads were no longer bowed, Mark looked Jeb’s direction. “We’d like to get your thoughts on what has happened.”

“I think we need to get our people together and leave.”

Deacon James sat slumped in his chair, his stomach pressing into the table’s side. “And the harvest?” he asked. “The livestock?”

Jebediah shrugged. “The harvest, what portion of it isn’t blighted, will have to stay where it is. Even if the Englishers have room for it, we don’t have time to gather it. We have weeks of work left, but they want to leave as soon as possible.”

“So our work is for naught,” Abraham said. “The planting, the hoeing, the fertilizing…”

“Scripture teaches that we are to have few ties to the world,” Jeb said. “To be in it, but not of it.”

James bowed his head thoughtfully. Nodded once.

Mark laid a hand on the table. “Amen. ‘Is life not more important than food, the body more important than clothing?’”

Jeb nodded. “As for our livestock, the Englishers have agreed to take some. So we should be busy making choices. Separating those to be taken.”

“There would be some pain in that for the children,” Abe said. “Animals that feel like family, left behind.”

“A sad choice, but necessary,” Mark said, frowning. “Animals are tools for living.”

Samuel had been quiet the whole time. Even now, he stared at his folded hands. Reflective. “How do we know?” he said. “How do we
know
that what these Englishers offer will be a better life? Do we dare trust them? This new planet they’ve found us, what do we know of it? What do we know of any of it?”

“It would be a faith walk,” Mark said. “That may be beneficial.”

“Faith is
always
beneficial,” Samuel said. “But we can practice faith by staying, as well.”

“We can’t,” Jeb said. “We shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t,” Samuel repeated. “Please don’t speak to us about shouldn’t. It is your
shouldn’t
that brought us here.”

“A sin that has been forgiven,” Mark said.

Samuel nodded. “Ya, I am aware. But it has brought us a string of threats to righteousness. Even now, children play alongside foreign space carriages. Having their minds filled with strange ideas. How will it be if we are inside those carriages? For weeks and weeks?”

“The Ordnung doesn’t forbid it,” Mark said.

Samuel sniffed. “We mustn’t use an absence of specifics as license.”

Even at forty, Abraham had a pronounced stripe of grey in his beard. “What do they intend to do with us?” he asked. “In the ship?”

Jebediah looked at the table, tried to find the knot he’d traced during the prior meeting. Strangely, he couldn’t. Had they turned the table? “We’ll be together,” he said, frowning. “They’ll have us in a large chamber together.”

“Yet surrounded by the trappings of their world. Their influence. Under
their
control.” Samuel looked at the rest of them. “I say that not for myself but for the settlement as a whole. We would be at their mercy. We have kinner to think of.”

“Ya, that’s what I’m thinking of too,” Jeb said. “Our children.” His eyes swept the group. “We need to go. You elders need to lead. I’ll help with organizing. Everyone will help. But like Moses and the Israelites, it is time to go.”

James sighed. “But we aren’t fleeing slavery, Jebediah,” he said. “God hasn’t put a pillar of fire in front of us.”

Jeb searched for the knot again. “I think He has. Our sun is the pillar, and it will soon light the entire sky. Or perhaps it is like the Angel of Death, soon to pass over all of Alabaster. We have a promised land to go to, already chosen for us. Even our travel has been paid for already. What better symbol of Christ’s mercy is there than that? Our penalty is already paid.”

Samuel smiled, snorted a laugh. “A convenient metaphor. But what do we know of the person who did the paying? Their motives. Do we now owe them?”

Jeb sighed. “It was doubtless one of our forefathers. Someone preparing for the worst.”

Samuel scowled. “Like your great-grandfather? Or whoever left that infernal machine for you to mind?”

“Possibly. My father never said, but possibly.”

“Well, I don’t like it. It is just more secrets. More change.”

Jeb shook his head. “We have to be reasonable. The Englishers are here to help us. They could be acting as God’s unknowing servants. The answer to our prayers.”

Deacon Mark nodded. “A good observation, Jebediah. It will be taken into consideration.”

“So you haven’t made up your mind?”

“Nee,” Mark said. “And in fact, the current crisis isn’t the reason we invited you here.”

Jeb straightened in his chair. “You asked for my opinion.”

“And we now have it,” Samuel said. “But we brought you here to answer a question.”

Jeb found another knot in the table. Focused on it. Traced the grain lines around it. Realized how much the grains together looked like a misshapen human face. One with very large teeth. “And what question is that?”

Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “Will you be able to abide by the decision we reach?” he asked. “Whatever that is?”

Mark nodded. “We are concerned for you, Jeb. Whether the machine, and now the Englishers, has affected you. Changed your commitment.”

Jeb’s heart fluttered. What were they suggesting? Questioning his commitment? Such words were normally reserved for those caught in repeated sin. Those in danger of being shunned. “No one is more committed to this community than Sarah and I. We’ve shown it countless times.”

“Yet you have a willful streak,” Samuel said, frowning. “A tendency to do what you think is right, despite how it might affect others.”

Jeb couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could they be so blind as to think there was another path to follow? His tests showed their sun was in trouble, and the Englishers had confirmed it. “So you are contemplating staying?” he asked. “Despite the danger? Despite our way of escape?”

“We haven’t decided,” Mark said. “But we need to know that you will support whatever decision we reach. That you will not interfere.”

Jeb looked at the table again. If he set aside his thoughts on the crisis, he could see that their concern for him wasn’t unusual or out of line. It was the responsibility of the bishop and deacons, all of them elected by lot—by God’s choice—to look out for his soul. To seek his greater good. And good had always came from tradition, from adherence to the law.

So where did faith in that tradition stop? Was there a faith in God that superseded faith in their revered ways? How might he unhitch the two? Should he?

His physical mind, his conscience, told him that the destiny of their world was already decided. That it, barring a miracle, would end—whether they were present or not.

“Alabaster is not our home,” he said. “We need to remember that. Our home is with Gott. And while we live, it is in His universe, wherever we make it. Wherever Gott leads.”

Deacon James slid back from the table some. Grunted. Turned more Jeb’s direction. Then, since all eyes were already on him, he spoke. “You are determined to leave then, no matter what we decide. Does Sarah agree?”

“Sarah? We haven’t discussed… I’m sure she will do whatever the community decides.”

James smiled. “As long as that is to leave, correct? Just like you.”

Anger gripped him. He pushed his seat back. Stood. “I think we have to go.”

Samuel shook his head. “It is as I feared: willfulness echoing sinfulness.”

“So you will go,” Abraham said. “Regardless of what others think?”

Jeb bowed his head. “I think I have to.”

Samuel’s face looked hollow, as did Mark’s. “Then we must admonish you against this path. Your intent is outside the Lord’s will. To quote Genesis, ‘Sin is crouching at your door.’”

“My
intent
is only to save the people I love.”

“As is ours,” Samuel said.

Mark looked at Samuel. “We should meet on this again.”

“You must know that I have to follow my conscience,” Jeb said. “Regardless.”

“And so will we,” Samuel said. “Regardless.”

• • •

Seal had barely stepped out of the steamer when his com device chirped. He huffed, toweled off, and quickly searched for a robe to wear.

The first he found was a blue prestige-format robe from the company line. The material came from a genetically-enhanced silkworm. It appeared smooth and shiny on the outside but on the inside had the consistency of brushed cotton. Warm, comfortable, yet sophisticated.

Now covered, Seal looked for his com unit. The captain’s quarters were larger than most. He had a queen-sized bed, a small circular table and chairs, an attached and private excretorium—what used to be called a “bathroom.” He also had a small kitchenette, complete with a sink and a floor-standing temperature manipulator. The latter device had been designed with a bit of a retro feel. Instead of the typical rectangle atop rectangle, it was circle over circle. The bottom cylinder was navy blue, the top, shimmering silver.

Regardless, the com unit wasn’t on the kitchen counter where he usually left it. Nor was it on the table or the chairs. He had to wait for a second chirp before he realized the sound was muffled and in the direction of the temp-mani. Frowning, he walked to it and opened the lower chamber. The com was there next to the orangrape drink he’d just taken out.

He shook his head, retrieved the com, walked to the table and sat down. The table’s surface lit up as soon as he placed the com atop it. While he waited for the image of the caller to appear, he brought up the
Raven
’s flight schedule. In included the pilot’s scheduling estimates factoring planetary load time. There was some wiggle room, but they would be close.

Seal was surprised when Singer’s face appeared. He smiled, pulled a hand through his still-damp hair, and tried to look as official as he possibly could in a robe. It was her first time in his room, in a manner of speaking, and he couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. He hoped his few grey chest hairs weren’t showing, but he fought to keep from looking. Being self-conscious was permissible, but
appearing
self-conscious was not.

Thankfully, Singer smiled as soon as her image became active. “Seal…” She paused, clearly studying his background. “You’re in your quarters, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He sat up straight to keep the robe together.

She frowned. “Sorry to catch you at a bad time.”

He shook his head. “There is no bad time for a Captain.” Smiled. “I’m sure it is important.”