Teams: A Terran Empire story

by Ann Wilson

Grand Ballroom he saw that hewasn't the only one. Several Kins, ranging from almost normal physiqueto near-starvation gauntness, surrounded her and began an animatedconversation. Others started discussions with the rest of his team,leaving Thompson himself momentarily alone.

  That didn't last long, however. The Count joined him, accompanied byhalf a dozen other Kins who she introduced as her Planetary Barons, herChief of System Security, and the Head Nurse of the Palace medcenter."And you've already seen Detective Chief Enna Kaufman," the Countfinished.

  Thompson acknowledged the introductions with a certain amount ofdiscomfort. He wasn't used to associating with the nobility, and itwas unsettling for him to feel the restrained hunger they all radiated.The two Security people were in the worst shape, and a moment's thoughttold Thompson it made sense; their jobs were unlikely to bring theminto much contact with people willing to let them feed.

  As they chatted about inconsequentials, Thompson had to keep himselffrom staring at the Kins' mouths, or getting within touching range.The Count had read him all too accurately; while one Kin was relativelyeasy to resist, seven--two of whom were near starvation--made it anentirely different case, even though they weren't doing anything butstand there and converse. He was far too aware not only of theirhunger, but of his urge to satisfy it. How the hell was he going toresist this kind of pressure even for however long the party lasted,much less for weeks or maybe months? He sipped at a drink he'd takenfrom a passing waiter's tray, wishing for some excuse to leave, but hecouldn't think of any. He couldn't even fall back on the Corps'informal motto, because there was no dishonor involved.

  "At least your teammates aren't refusing to enjoy what we can do forthem," Kaufman said, gesturing as she chuckled.

  Thompson turned, to see Sergeant Gottfried--his communicationsexpert--in the arms of a tall, equally Nordic-looking man, her expressionalmost ecstatic as the Kin's mouth worked at her throat. Nearby he sawAudra, pale but looking pleased, with a petite Polynesian-looking Kinbeing obviously solicitous of her. Thompson shook his head ruefully,then turned back to his group. "It looks like you have a few moredonors, at least as long as we're assigned here." He hesitated, tryingto decide whether he should go on, but the Count made that decision forhim.

  "Go on, Captain. I can see you have more to say."

  "Yes, sir." Thompson took a breath, then did so. "As I told SergeantKing, I'd donate myself, as often as I could, except that I'm told thatif I do it even once, I'll become a Kin. And that would cost me mycareer, something I'm not willing to give up."

  "More to the point," the Count said, "you think it would cost you yourteam."

  Dammit, Thompson thought, couldn't she give him any slack? "The onlyway it wouldn't, my Lady, is if you got the Emperor to assign them herepermanently--which would ruin their careers. I say again, myresponsibilities to my team outweigh my personal desires."

  He hadn't kept his distance carefully enough; Kaufman touched hisshoulder, then his throat, and he shivered with the promise of it."Captain," she said softly, "would it really be that bad, staying inthis system? The human race, after all, was restricted to one planetfor millions of years, and most people still remain planetbound fortheir entire lives. Believe me, Narvon System can provide enoughchallenge for you and your team. Have you asked them whether theywould consider staying here with you?"

  "No, I haven't," Thompson admitted. But he had to add, "I wouldn't,either, because I'm afraid they'd think I was pressuring them."

  Kaufman eased her hand to the other side of his neck, and Thompsonmoved closer without quite realizing it. "Look at them, my friend.They're feeling good, and I can assure you that anyone who's donated toone of us once wants to do it again." She chuckled. "The kind ofpleasure we can give is unique, and you want the best possible for yourpeople; wouldn't you like to give them feeding-pleasure yourself, asoften as you could do it without endangering their health?"

  That gave Thompson an entirely different point of view, and he movedstill closer to the Kin, again without realizing it. "Yes . . . yes, Iwould." He did want the best for his people, and if he could get thatin a way that also let him be even closer to them--

  He felt lips at his throat, hard sharpness under their warmth, and knewhe'd surrendered.

  Then a large hand closed on his shoulder and he was pulled away, tostumble back against Corporal Nkomo's chest. "What--"

  "No marks, sir; you're safe."

  Thompson took a deep breath, coming back to reality as his teamsurrounded him. It seemed he'd been right when he told Audra he mightneed protection from himself. "Thanks, Corporal. And the rest ofyou."

  "No problem, sir. Sergeant King said this might happen."

  The Count smiled ruefully. "You have a very well trained team, CaptainThompson--but they cannot be around you all the time. Sooner or later,you will give in to your own desire."

  He'd already come too close for comfort, Thompson thought bitterly.The worst part of it was that it was himself he was fighting, not theCount--and whichever way the fight went, he lost. "That may be, myLady, but they're here now. And they'll keep me from doing anythingI'd regret later."

  "Indeed," the Count said politely. "Then you will stay and enjoy therest of the party."

  That was an order, Thompson knew, not a request. "As my Lady Countwishes," he said, trying to conceal resentment from the others, if notfrom the Count herself.

  "Good." The Count signalled a waiter, who approached carrying a trayloaded with foam-topped mugs. "Your records say you have a fondnessfor New Bavarian beer, something I doubt you can find very often. Ican recommend this; it is their Oktoberfest Doppelbock, a brew Ienjoyed myself before becoming a Kin."

  Thompson didn't doubt that; it was a brew he'd heard quite a lot about,though he'd never been able to afford any. He reached for a mug,shaking his head when Nkomo tried to restrain him. "It's okay,Corporal. I'm in danger of becoming a Kin, not being poisoned. But ifit'd make you feel better, you can taste it before I have any."

  "I'll do that, sir." Nkomo took a deep drink, then handed the mug toThompson, shaking his head. "Whoo! That's beer?"

  "It certainly is," the Count said with obvious amusement. "Ratherpotent beer, I might add, though it is also quite smooth. Feel free todrink all you wish; my medcenter has considerable experience treatinghangovers."

  With that, the group of Kins broke up and began circulating. Thompsontook a hearty drink from the mug he held, while the rest of the teamtook advantage of the Count's offer, accepting mugs of their own fromthe waiter. Not at all to his surprise, he saw that all of them hadfang marks on their throats; when Nkomo lowered his mug, Thompsonindicated the marks. "How was it?"

  Nkomo rubbed the marks, grinning. "It was great, sir--like nothingI've ever felt before. I'm going to do it again, as often as they'lllet me." He gestured resignation. "Not as often as I'd like, but theone who fed on me says they don't take chances on their donors' health;even if I dose with rapid-heal, which I intend to, I'm not allowed todonate more than once every four tendays. What they call a Class FourDonor."

  That seemed to be about average, Thompson found. Gottfried was a ClassThree, King a Class One, and all the rest were Fours like Nkomo. Alsolike Nkomo, all of them intended to repeat the experience as often asthey were allowed to. "And if you do become a Kin," King told him, "wewant you to be the one who feeds from us. Mine said that it's goodwith any Kin, but best with someone you know and like or respect. Andthat a custom is developing for a Kin who leads a regular group ofDonors to be responsible for taking care of them that way."

  Thompson raised an eyebrow. "The Kin is responsible for feeding on@'s people?"

  "Yes, sir. If you'd Donated, you wouldn't be questioning it, either."

  "Maybe not," Thompson conceded. It did seem to make an odd sort ofsense . . . but he didn't care to find out. "That's academic for themoment, though, so let's do what her Ladyship said, and enjoy theparty."

  * * * *
*

  The next morning, Thompson woke feeling hungry. That was somethingthat almost never happened, especially when he'd been drinking thenight before; breakfast, for him, was seldom more than a cup of coffeeand maybe an English muffin. Well, he knew where the guest dining roomwas, he told himself, and it was likely that Audra would be eatingthere; the rest were more likely to eat with the System Security troopsin their chow hall.

  She wasn't