by E M Gale
“Drop your weapons if you want to live,” I said to the human pirates. They eyed me uneasily and looked back at the orcs. One or two of them nodded. I gave the pirates one of my most encouraging looks. Their swords clattered to the floor.
I turned to Petey. “Round this lot up and bung them in the cells with the others. They’ll get a good ransom at Tortuga.”
He stared at me.
‘Oh, yeah, he’s in charge. Oops!’
I coughed nervously.
“Uh, sorry. Um… ignore that.”
He shook his head at me and then ordered me to round them up. The marines were staring at us. I had to try not to laugh at that.
‘As pirate attacks go, this was OK. None of the marines are hurt and no-one had to kill any pirates. Plus, if we can get money for them at Tortuga, perhaps I can get a bonus out of that?’
And because I was distracted, wishing that every pirate attack could be so bloodless, one of the scoundrels who had been hiding on the ship burst out and swung a sword at my head. I blocked it with my sword and he responded by slamming the butt of his gun down on my head.
‘Ow!’
The damned thing was heavy. I stood stunned for a moment, and he attacked me again with his sword, aiming to impale me through the heart. I dodged and pointed the tip of my sword against the point where his neck met his torso. He gulped, very carefully, and dropped his weapons, flashing me a nervous grin. I must have looked menacing staring at him down the length of my sword. Well, I guessed I would have if I hadn’t have had one hand on my head as well. In actual fact, I probably looked like an idiot.
‘Well, nice one, Clarke. Next time, don’t turn your back on an enemy ship until you’ve checked it’s empty of crazed pirates.’
I pulled the tip of the sword back and gestured that he move sideways to join the others. Grom shoved him to the floor, pointed the gun at him and sneered.
“You OK?” Petey asked me.
“Fine,” I said brightly. Even though my head hurt, I was still happy that I’d hadn’t had to kill anyone in this attack. The pain was fading though. My body had instinctively fallen into the healing state.
We walked the pirates down to the brig at swordpoint. They eyed the other pirates in the brig uneasily. I wondered if the two groups would fight or exchange stories.
I strolled back to the armoury to drop off the sword and chat to the combat staff. Oddly enough Cleckley was there, looking somehow sinister standing amongst the ragtag marines in his neatly-pressed brown suit.
“Y’know, Clarke,” started Connor, “if you’re really trying to pretend to be a normal human, perhaps you ought to not swing a big two-handed sword around with one hand.”
‘Eh? It’s a two-handed sword? OK, it’s big, but, well, how was I supposed to know that?’
Cleckley chuckled at this.
“Yeah, size does matter, Clarke,” said Smith. Cliff guffawed loudly and some of the other marines grinned.
‘Does this mean that I’m stronger than I think I am? Well, I’d better try to cover up that I didn’t know it is a two-handed sword.’
“Hmm, you got a point there,” I said to Connor, ignoring the banter. He laughed. “I’m not so hot at this disguise stuff.”
Most the marines shook their heads and continued with various stupid weapon innuendos.
“Clarke!” said Cleckley, beckoning me over. He was standing next to the major, grinning. “I hear you injured yourself.”
‘Goddammit, he’s smiling! Why is he happy I hurt?’
“I didn’t injure myself, an evil pirate bashed me on the head,” I said, frowning.
“So I heard,” he said, still grinning.
“Why are you happy I hurt?” I asked him suspiciously.
“I think you had better come up to my office so I can check you’re OK.”
‘Uh-uh, no way.’
“I’m fine.” I smiled my most lovely smile.
“Well, head injuries can be funny sometimes, we’d better check you out.”
‘What is he up to?’
“I’ve healed already. I’ve had worse head injuries making dinner.”
‘Two words: cupboard doors.’
“I think we’d better check,” he countered.
“I was way more injured last time,” I dodged.
“Then you should have come to see me last time.” He sounded exasperated.
“Huh. Well. Y’know, I’m working here. I gotta shoot darts at people. I get paid to do that,” I said, desperately retreating so I could call for backup.
He smiled.
“Don’t I, Major?” I added. My eyes were saying: ‘Help me out here.’
“You’re injured. You can’t work,” stated Cleckley.
“Yes, I can. Get me a dart gun and I’ll shoot you to prove it.”
The major shook his head and spoke. “Clarke, if the doctor wants to check you over, then go. You’re no use if you’re concussed.”
‘Oh, great, thanks. We go back a long way and you can’t rescue me from the bizarrely eager and curious doctor? Thanks a lot.’
“I’m fine, see?” I knocked myself on the head to prove the point.
‘Ouch!’
I grimaced involuntarily.
‘OK, Clarke, you’re stronger than you think you are, don’t bash yourself on the head.’
“Clarke,” said the major with a sigh, “you’re dismissed. Go with the doctor.”
‘Grrr.’
I stared at him open-mouthed.
‘Well… I’ve had plenty of reasons for insubordination, this really is a minor thing. And anyway, Cleckley’s my friend. But there is a definite glint in his eye there. He’s pleased with himself, pleased at the situation, pleased at getting me to go to his office. Hmm, I’m not that dumb.’
“C’mon, Clarke,” said Cleckley, wearing a victor’s smile.
‘Argh, who needs pride anyway.’
“Ah, Major, sir. Please don’t make me go with the scary Dr. Frankenstein here! He’s up to something!”
Connor looked shocked and the other marines who had come to drop off their swords were interested now.
“He probably wants to use this opportunity to cut me up into little pieces…”
“Clarke, don’t be a baby, go with the doctor,” said the major, exasperated. Someone sniggered at that.
I pointed at him. “Look at the glint in his eye! He’s up to something! Something very bad.”
“Who, me?” said Cleckley innocently, smelling stressed.
‘Huh, I’m a vampire, I can smell fear. You are up to something, Cleckley, I know you are.’
“I thought you liked men with a glint in their eye,” said Wright.
‘Oh, ha ha.’
I glared at him. “Not that ‘this is my ticket to a Nobel Prize’ glint, I don’t.”
“Clarke, go!” said the major.
‘Damn.’
“OK, OK, OK, I’m going, I’m going. But don’t blame me if I end up chopped up into microscope slides. I won’t be much use if pirates attack and I’m under a microscope, will I?” I raised my eyebrows at the major. He glared.
“Seriously, Clarke, there is no need to be so skittish,” said the doctor. He was looking perturbed.
“OK… I’ll go.” I just stood there. They all looked at me. “You mean right this minute?” I asked in a small voice with a guilty smile.
“Yes! I mean right this minute!” shouted the major.
‘Ouch! Why so noisy? Why right in my ear?’
I held my ear.
‘Great, now my ear hurts as well as my head.’
I started healing it and put my hand down.
“I’m going now.”
“Come on then, Clarke,” said Cleckley.
I took a step, stopped and looked back. “Are you totally sure you don’t need me here?”
“Clarke…” said the major in a dangerous tone of voice.
“Going,” I said, stalking out of the room after Cleckley, my hands in my po
ckets and my shoulders slumped.
“I thought we had gotten over this,” said Cleckley.
“I’m a vampire, Cleckley,” I said quietly, after checking that there was no one to overhear us. “I know you’re up to something.”
His heart rate jumped at that.
‘See, I’m right.’
“Oh, Clarke. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends. But we’re also scientist and scientific curiosity.”
“You made a fool of yourself in front of the marines.”
“It happens a lot actually,” I said, thinking about the movie the day before.
He shook his head. The grin had gone: he was on edge.
I walked into his office. Oddly he locked the door before sitting down. I stared at him.
“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” he said, with a false grin.
“Are you trying to calm me down by locking me in? I thought doctors had better people skills than that.”
‘Has he figured out I can get out of a locked room yet? I presume not if he thinks that a locked door can stop me. Just so long as it’s not airtight and only the bulkhead doors are.’
He shook his head at me.
“Clarke, I want to just check that you’re OK, you could have concussion.” He seated himself behind the desk.
I stood for a moment eyeing him and the door suspiciously. He raised his eyebrows and waited. As he wasn’t armed with a scalpel, I sat down.
He smiled. “Name?”
“What?”
He looked exasperated. “I need to check you’re not concussed. The best way to do that is ask you simple questions.”
I nodded.
‘OK, questions. Questions are not as scary as scalpels, almost as scary, but not quite.’
“Clarke.”
He looked at me. “First name?”
“You’d better not get into the habit of calling me by it,” I said, waving a finger at him warningly.
“I won’t. And anyway I have looked it up, I do already know it.”
“Florentina.”
“Date of birth?”
I shrugged. This was relatively painless. “Twentieth of June.”
He looked at me, expecting more.
“Nineteen eighty-six.”
“OK,” he said, leaning forwards. “Date of the first Orc-Vampire War?”
‘Oh, no, what do I do?’
“Uh, I can’t remember exactly.” I smiled pleasantly. “We vampires can get a bit senile. I am very old after all.”
He nodded. “I suppose. It’s an obvious question, but just to check you for concussion, who won?”
‘Phew, I knew that.’
“Gargh, we did, of course,” I said, shrugging.
He nodded and looked down at his notepad. “And the date of the second Orc-Vampire War?”
‘Ah.’
“Well, I’m bad with dates. I forget people’s birthdays and everything.” I smiled. Nothing like a bit of charm.
‘What to do?’
“Yes, but you did fight in it, right?” he said, looking at me piercingly. “I’m not well versed on military history,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.
‘Ah. I didn’t read that far. But I am the vampires’ general so I must have fought.’
“Yes.”
He nodded.
‘Phew!’
“And who won?” he asked levelly.
‘Oh, no. I don’t know.’
I smiled at Cleckley to buy time. He smiled back calmly.
‘Well, the orcs respect me, and are a little afraid of me, is that because I’ve trounced them twice? They wouldn’t respect me so much if they won the second one. There is the respect for a good foe, but you wouldn’t be deferential. There was definite deference when I joined this ship.’
“We did,” I said, triumphantly.
‘Yeah, figured that out. Yay, go me!’
He looked at me closely, expecting more.
“The vampires did,” I said, smiling.
He nodded.
‘Phew, got away with that too!’
“Well, Clarke, you’re perfectly fine.” He grinned at me and spread his manicured hands out on the desk in front of him. His heart rate had gone up with excitement.
‘Oh, no, what is he up to now? This looks bad. This looks very bad. Should I run?’
“Clarke,” he started, smiling at me. “You really don’t seem to know much about being a vampire.”
‘Oh, no.’
“Obviously I know all about it, since I am one,” I said.
He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “No, you don’t. You’ve been talking to me, trying to figure it out.”
My mouth was dry.
“For example, you could have, and preferentially would have, I am sure, spoken to a vampire doctor about orcian coffee. And why didn’t you know what wood does? That must be common knowledge amongst vampires.” He was speaking slowly and clearly. My mouth was open. “You’re obviously not dumb, and I simply cannot believe it’s taken you two hundred years to get round asking these sorts of questions.”
I looked at him, my eyes wide. I tried to close down the emotion in my face. I didn’t think I succeeded.
“Also, I find it hard to believe that you would need to hitch a lift on a smugglers’ ship when you have the combined might of at least three armies to call on to give you a lift. And that doesn’t include whatever ships you personally have stashed away somewhere. Your friends obviously know you, but they are unaware you are a vampire. From studying you I’ve discovered that vampires turn into half-human, half-vampires until they die, whereupon they become full vampires. If I were to judge by your friends, I would put you in your early twenties. In that case, you must have recently become a vampire, because you would give yourself away to them the first time you had to fight. And you’ve not lived a peaceful life.”
I sat completely still, horrified. He smiled the triumphant smile of someone who had honed their reason to a sharpened point and was wielding it expertly to cut down to the truth.
“So there are five possible explanations I can think of: one, you’re not Clarke, but an imposter; two, you’re a clone; three, you’ve lost your memory; four, you’re from a parallel dimension; five, you’re a time traveller.” He smiled at me. I could barely breathe.
‘What to do?’
“Now, let’s deal with each of these in turn,” he said. “If you are an imposter or a clone, that would explain why you seem to lack about two hundred years of memory and why you’ve been recently turned. If an imposter, why haven’t you read up on Clarke’s history and why didn’t your sire educate you about being a vampire? If a clone, why didn’t they educate you in the lab?” He pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes shining with excitement. “Unless you escaped. And if you did that, why are you pretending to be the Clarke? Why not just dye your hair and go by a different name? So you’re not a clone.”
‘Ah, thought of something.’
“Argh, I think I did hurt my head. I feel a little faint.” I waved my hand at my face weakly then threw myself out of the chair onto the floor in a suitably dramatic manner. So dramatic, I landed badly and hurt myself. I rolled onto my back and shut my eyes.
Cleckley laughed. “Your acting is appalling, and I know you’re not injured.”
I opened an eye at him. I had one hand balanced on my forehead. I thought I had done a pretty good impression of someone fainting.
“You got me here under false pretences.”
“Not really, you knew you weren’t injured either.”
‘Yup. True.’
“Sit down and hear me out,” he suggested, gesturing at my now empty seat. I stood up and looked around.
‘Nope, I can’t think of anything else to do.’
So I righted my chair and sat in it.
He continued. “So you are Clarke, but maybe you’ve lost your memory.”
I looked at him thoughtfully.
�
��Is it better to act amnesiac than have him know about the time travelling? Maybe I’ll see where he’s going with this, then try faking up some more senility.’
“That would explain the fact that you don’t know things from the past that any schoolchild would, much less someone who was there. However, you don’t display any of the other symptoms of mental trauma.” He smiled knowingly.
‘I’m not sure I’d know how to fake symptoms of mental trauma. What are they anyway?’
“If anything, you seem to be less crazy now than your past record would suggest. But I’ve never heard of a hit on the head making anyone sane.” He chuckled at his own wit.
I knew at this point that the fear was visible on my face, but I didn’t think I could hide it.
“Which leaves the possibilities that you are Clarke from an alternate universe or from the past. Both are equally likely unless you take into account corroborating evidence that points towards time travel.”
I gasped. I really, really didn’t mean to. Cleckley smiled.
‘I think the game is up.’
“I would guess that you are Clarke from the past, moved forward to now from sometime before the first Orc-Vampire War. I can’t say whether you were turned before or after you travelled in time, but I think before.”
I started gnawing on my knuckles and eyeing him over the top. He spread his hands out on the desk in front of him and leaned back, regarding me calmly over the top of his glasses.
“Vampires have their own society, their own rules. They are secretive in nature. But I find it unlikely that their rules don’t include something about educating your offspring about what it is to be a vampire. Given that no one has educated you, I presume that you were turned in the past then moved through time away from your sire.”
I leaned back in my chair, dropping my hands to my lap and breathing slowly to calm down.
Cleckley continued, “Then there’s your companions. Why are you travelling with them, and why don’t they know you’re a vampire?”
He stared at me. I said nothing. My throat was too dry to speak, even if I could have thought of anything to say.
“I posit that they are the people you knew at some point in the past, who knew you when you were… fully human. You speak anachronistically. As an old vampire that’s not surprising, but your friends sometimes speak in a similar way. I’m no linguist, I can’t tell if that is early twenty-first-century speech, but I’d guess it is. Then there’s the bizarre fact that not one of them knew about the existence of the hypernet.”
