Amish Vampires in Space (23 page)

“I’m not suggesting anything. I just know how things work on Guild ships. How some things get by.”

“You’re saying he bribed me? That he gave me something for a clean bill of health? How absurd!” On the last, Darly raised her voice enough that it got the attention of those in the waiting room. The Amish man smoothed his beard. The rest raised large eyes.

“All I’m saying is that there is something wrong here. Something really, really wrong. Congi is sick. Shouldn’t be out. Don’t know why you didn’t see it.” He raised his hands. “You know what? I really don’t care.”

Darly didn’t look moved. She put her scanner back on her hip. “I’m going to give you an order, loading supervisor. I’m going to tell you to go back to your quarters and lie down. I’m not sure what your shift is—”

“Almost over,” he said. “Then I have—”

“Good. Then I want you to go get some sleep. If you want me to give you an injection of something to help—”

“You want to drug me? Just for being concerned about—”

“Go home, Mr. Greels. Get some rest.” Uncharacteristically, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Put pressure on it to turn him toward the door.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “I have other things to do.”

“They will wait. I’m going to have security check your place in an hour. You better be there.”

Seconds later, Greels found himself outside the medical door, angry, confused and, as the doctor had said, more than a little tired. He scowled, contemplated opening the door again, but finally resigned himself to doing what she’d suggested.

But this wasn’t the end of it.

• • •

The Englisher woman named Singer led Jebediah and Sarah through a ship so strange that he felt he was at a fall fair. Each turn revealed a new marvel, a new item Jebediah wanted to ask about. And most of the time, he did.

What is that circle there?

That device, what does it do?

How does that turn like that?

Why do you call that a “field?” It has no dirt and no crops. Only a glow.

Where does the water come from?

The most perplexing curiosities to him were what Singer called “slideways.” They were paths that moved. So instead of walking, you rode. Seemed counterintuitive, slothful even, but he found—he and Sarah both found—them simply incredible.

“It is as if the ship moves around us while we stand still!” Sarah said as they traveled one of the wider slideways, the one called simply “blue.”

The Englisher laughed. “That’s very similar to how the whole ship moves,” she said. “Through space. Space moves around us. The engines create a field, ahem, an
area
, for us and moves space around that area. If you could look outside when we’re in slip travel…” She tipped her head. “Well, it would look like an extremely foggy day.”

Sarah put her hand over chest. Took a deep breath. Searched the ceiling overhead. “And the Lord allows such a thing? Pulling space over us like a blanket? Immersing us in this fog?” She turned to him. “How is it possible?”

Jeb shook his head. “Like Babel, Sarah. Anything they can imagine.”

“But should they? The Ordnung—”

Jeb held up a hand. “We are in
their
world now, Sarah.” He noticed a heavily-lit area ahead. “Here
we’re
the Englishers.”

Sarah’s eyes dropped. She turned to the right, looked over the storage area below. “Well, imagine that. Us. Englishers.”

Again Singer chuckled. She indicated the lighted area ahead. “Careful. We’ll be stepping off at this stop.” The slideway seemed to slow somehow—a trick that baffled Jebediah, since the slide appeared to be solid underneath his feet. About that magic, however, he didn’t ask. He waited for Singer to step off and then he put a hand on Sarah’s elbow and stepped with her onto the landing platform.

“Oh, my,” Sarah said as they again stood on solid ground.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

Her hand found her midsection. “Yes, I’m fine.” A smile. “Nice to be stopped again.” She looked at Singer. “Though I guess we’re not
really
stopped, are we?”

Singer just smiled and indicated a doorway with her hand. “This way.”

They passed through a short walkway and took a number of turns before arriving at a hall with a series of doors on both sides. Each door had a lit square to its left. Singer brought them to the third door and waved her hand in front of its square. The door slid open, and she motioned for Jebediah and Sarah to enter.

The interior was clearly a living space. Jeb could see the tail end of a bed ahead. Every surface had a blue-green tint to it. At first glance, it almost seemed too pressed, too perfect—and too small in a ship so large—to be someone’s home. Of course, the whole ship was home for these Englishers. Singer had mentioned that most rarely left it, even at stops. Jeb smoothed his beard. So these were the “quarters” Singer had said she was bringing them to.

Sarah paused at the door. “What is this?”

“The room we allocated the two of you,” Singer said.

Sarah frowned. “But our people are—”

Singer nodded, smiled. “Yes, they are back at one of our bays, along with the animals. But I knew your husband was…” An uncomfortable frown. “Well, I knew he wasn’t to be with them.”

Sarah frowned. “He is in the Bann, Miss Singer. Shunned. There is no harm in saying it.”

Another nod. “Yes, ma’am. Very good.” A nervous look into the room. “So I thought this might work better for you both.”

Sarah walked slowly inside. Jeb tipped his hat at Singer as he entered. Smiled. He noticed cabinetry on the left side of the entranceway. It appeared flimsy in construction, but when Jeb tried one of the doors—opened it and gave it a tug—he realized it was another enigma. Much stronger than it looked, yet light and thin. Not made of wood, certainly.

Plus the hinges were completely hidden. Fused to the door somehow. Doubtless the community carpenter would like to see that. Probably lose the rest of his hair trying to figure it out.

Singer’s voice lifted. “And you helped us,” she said. “Helped us keep to our schedule.” She followed Jeb inside. “The captain is pleased with that.”

There was another opening to their right. Sarah immediately turned into it, and a light snapped on by itself. The room was all shine. There was a sink and something Jeb guessed was an indoor outhouse. There was also a transparent rectangular area at the far end. A bath of some sort? Sarah took it in with wide eyes.

“He’s a man of structure, your captain?” Jeb said. “A man committed to time?”

Singer nodded. “You could say that.”

They gathered together in the area near the bed. The bed itself had a shiny blue bedspread. There was an emblem on it, along with the letters “S” and “G.”

“Hmm…” Jeb said, studying the bed. “The initials of the last tenant?”

Singer chuckled. “No, it stands for Shipping Guild. All the beds come with that spread.”

“Not very homey,” Sarah said.

Singer indicated the cabinets. “There are different coverlets in the storage units there. Those might be more to your liking. Or maybe we could get some articles out of your personal parcels.” She shrugged. “I mean, they’re all marked. Stored nearby. We can certainly locate them.” She looked at Jeb. “They’d have to be resealed, of course. But we do that all the time.”

Jeb touched Sarah’s arm. “One of your favorite quilts?”

Sarah looked hard at the bed, clearly thinking. “Are you letting others unpack? The rest of the settlement?”

“We hope not to. It adds to our reported loading hours. Our union bills.”

“Union?” Jeb asked. “Union of what?”

Singer smoothed the side of her head. Smiled. “Yes, you wouldn’t have those, would you?” A sigh. “It is hard to explain.”

There were two large chairs and a table on the other side of the bed, plus what looked to be a large darkened window. Jeb drifted that direction and examined the nearest chair. It was odd-shaped, somewhat triangular. The supporting structures were cut at almost impossible angles. Yet the cushion appeared comfortable. He decided to put his faith in it and sat down.

“Perhaps if we had a book,” he said. “To help explain.”

Singer’s eyes lit up. “Sure! There’s a whole library available on that surface there.” She motioned to the nearby table. The completely empty table.

Jeb squinted at the table, and then at Singer.

She smiled, blushed. “Um…yes, if you just lay a hand on it for a few moments.” She stepped closer and did so. After a few seconds the table seemed to open up. There was a dark void filled with lots of shapes. Little pictures rotating in three dimensions.

Jeb gasped. “I feel ill.” He tentatively touched the edge of the void. It was still a table. Still flat. But it responded. Like molding clay under his fingers. And the shapes moved. “There’s a way to read this?” he asked. “Is it really small?”

Sarah brought a hand to her head. “This is too much, Jebediah.”

He made a calming motion. “We’ll be all right, Sarah.”

A light flashed at Singer’s hip. She detached the square device that hung there—her communication device, Jeb knew—and brought it up to her face. Frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have things I need to attend to.” She scanned both their faces. “Can I leave you here? Will you be all right?”

Sarah held her arms close and gingerly sat on the bed. She looked to both sides of her. “Well, this isn’t too bad. More comfortable than I expected.”

“And fully adjustable.” Singer said.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oh, please don’t adjust anything.”

Singer held up a hand. “Certainly. No problem.” She took a step toward the door. “Again, will you be all right?” Her eyes searched the room, the wall cabinetry, the interior of the bathroom. “You can’t really hurt anything here. It is all pretty idiot-proof.”

“Idiot?” Sarah said. “Are we idiots here?”

“Now, Sarah—”

Singer took another step back. Looked more embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that. Really. I mean, you can’t hurt yourself either. It’s a term we use in engineering to mean…” She put out her hands. “Relax. Explore, if you want. You’ll be all right.” She moved to the door. “Okay?”

Jeb nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“But Jeb—”

He held up a hand. “Let her leave, Sarah. She has work.” Then to Singer. “We’ll be fine.”

Singer gave a short nod and a wave, then passed through the door. The door closed.

Sarah looked at him. “Jebediah…?”

He turned to the table again. “I think I can do something here. Find a manual for the outhouse or something.” He squinted, searched the whole surface. “Do you suppose I’m to touch it? Or talk to it?”

Still seated on the bed, Sarah chuckled. “Oh, you silly man.”

Jeb smiled. Raised his shoulders. “I really don’t know.”

She laughed again. Then paused. “We are out of our element here, Jeb. We should be with the others.”

He returned to the table. “Hmm…yes…doubtless.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Right now, I’m afraid to even move.”

Again, she laughed.

And for now, Jeb thought that was okay.

Seal was back in his office and feeling good.
Content. Things appeared to be progressing well. Efficiently. He took that as a sign that he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. Being the best captain he could be.

In his mind, he imagined the ledger on the admiral’s desk back in HQ. He saw images of the Guild fleet captains all positioned in stack rank order—in order of perceived importance. A nice neat and efficient assortment. Everyone with smiling faces and Guild dress blues on. The captain of the
Eagle
was doubtless in the number one spot. He always was.

Seal envisioned the admiral selecting Seal’s own image from somewhere in the middle of the group and sliding it slowly forward. Forward and up. Hiding the images of other captains behind his. Those smiling captain images. Finally putting Seal in the fifth, maybe fourth, stack-rank position. Seal sighed. Smiled to himself. It was a nice dream.

He leaned over his desk and began searching for the Intradesk Meeting indicator. He found it right where he’d left it after the last meeting—all curled up in the bottom right-hand side of the screen. He pressed it, and when squares began to appear, he filled them with references from the ship’s crew ledger: Singer, Greels, Darly and that pilot…what was his name? Ah, yes, Perth!

Forgetting the name of his own pilot? Whew. Better not let that continue.

Just for that, he gave the pilot’s image top left status again. Then Singer was on the top right, and Darly got bottom left. Hard-to-find Greels? Bottom right.

Perfect.

The images flicked, swirled, and became solid as each person answered. Greels was last, of course. Even though his location showed that he was in his quarters, he had taken a long time to respond. He also looked angry.

“Thank you for joining me,” Seal said. “I know this is a busy time. An unusual time.” He looked Singer’s direction. “Our status, crewmember?”

Singer’s hair was down, mildly curled. Another good look on her. Did she even
have
a bad one?