The Vampire Files Anthology

by P. N. Elrod

  Farron went over his limited alternatives and decided that lying around drunk and waiting to die was the least attractive of the lot. With a groan he got up. Blanket wrapped tight around him, he stumbled forward.

  Things were happening out there, somewhere, and if he didn’t shift himself he might get left behind for good.

  * * *

  Pressed flat against the wall, Kella edged sideways, taking her time. She’d heard at least two people talking, their distorted voices bouncing off hard surfaces. A large chamber was close ahead that had to be one of the hangar bays. She could almost smell the ship. She crept another step closer. . .

  And set off a motion sensor alarm.

  It was a standard security item stuck to the wall less than thirty meters away and anything but subtle in appearance. She’d simply not recognized it. She tore back down the hall, but a stocky man in a System uniform was suddenly in the middle of it with his blaster at ready. He burned a warning shot into the floor just short of her feet and swung the muzzle up to chest level.

  Kella stopped short, her hands out. Behind him, a tall woman with fair hair trotted up, her weapon also held ready to fire. She shut the alarm off with a remote and stared. Kella was evidently not what they’d anticipated.

  “On the floor,” the woman ordered. “Spread your arms.”

  There was no room for choice. She lay flat and a heavy boot came down on the back of her neck.

  “Search her, Darden.”

  He slapped and prodded. “She’s clean.”

  Well, Kella had found them: the System techs she’d planned on killing in order to take their ship.

  “Roll on your back and stay there.”

  With considerable disgust, Kella turned over, propping herself on her elbows.

  “Who the hell are you?” The fair-haired one was a lieutenant and apparently in charge. Was it just the two of them? If there were others in the crew, they’d have come for a look by now.

  “Ven Mavic,” Kella answered in an Elitist drawl. “Captain Mavic from Riganth Prison. Your zeal is commendable, but not necessary. You can let me up.”

  “You’re a convict?” Her tone was disdainful.

  Kella looked pained. “Obviously not. I’m attached to the maximum security section. There was an escape and I’ve been hunting prisoners.”

  “Alone?”

  “The rest of my unit is searching the base. We split up to cover more area.”

  “Without weapons?”

  “They’re not allowed. Drop your guard for half a second and even a drugged prisoner could steal it from you. Anyway, the man I’m after is unarmed and sick. Thought I’d found him in this maze until you two jumped out. Scared the hell out of me, I’ll hand you that.”

  “Where’d you get the uniform?”

  “The supply dispensers worked, so I helped myself. Mine was wrecked after chasing him all over topside. Is that damned fire out yet?”

  “Where’s your identification?”

  Kella wearily raised her left arm to show the small bump on the inside above the wrist where all citizens were chipped at birth. “It’s no good, though. A Resister attack pulsed the whole prison and mine got cooked. Have to put in for a new one. What are you doing here, anyway? I heard the System was going to reactivate the base. Is this it?”

  “You don’t really need to know, do you?”

  She smiled. “I suppose not. May I get up? I need to report in—if they’ve got the comms working by now.”

  The lieutenant smiled back unpleasantly. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Then you contact Warden Sena. I’m Captain Ven Mavic. You can tell her one of the escapees is somewhere in this complex and—”

  The lieutenant smashed her boot into Kella’s side, not holding back. Kella grunted and lay flat, breath gone for the moment.

  Darden jumped. “Eily, what are you doing?”

  “Shut up and look at her, do you think that’s a regulation haircut?”

  “But what she said?”

  “Don’t trust a glib attitude, it means she’s too smart for our own good. Get her back to the hangar while I reset the alarm, or did you forget that Alard’s still out there?”

  * * *

  Farron paused and tried to force air into his starved lungs. Breathing was more and more of a conscious effort as he walked, and it frightened him. He’d seen too many others drown in their own congestion and now it was happening to him.

  Good thing that other fellow had turned up, even if he was System. At least he seemed to know his way around. Farron would have lost himself several times over had he struck out on his own. He’d only just managed to keep up with the man, though, and if he didn’t keep moving, that would change. It’d be stupid to wear himself out coming this far only to lose Alard and any chance for help. Even if they were System and returned him to prison, they’d have to give him treatment once he reached them.

  That, or shoot me.

  He gulped back a cough and plodded dizzily forward, the vast rusty patch at his feet going unnoticed.

  * * *

  “Is it on?” Darden called out.

  “Affirmative,” came Eily’s reply.

  Kella sat on her hands. Literally. They’d no ready means to tie her up, and Darden had an unexpected turn of imagination. Kella was on the hangar floor with her back to a packing case. Darden was four meters away next to the shield door that led to the rest of the complex. His blaster was level with Kella’s chest. He was haggard, unkempt, and nervy. In deference to this, Kella kept still and studied what she could see of the hangar and its contents.

  The ship wasn’t special, a standard courier vessel large enough for a few people and a moderate cargo. Some of the present consignment littered the area in a haphazard way. Several monitoring units had been unpacked and jury-rigged together, their screens displaying empty corridors. Presumably, it was part of Eily’s defense against Alard, whoever that might be.

  One unit in particular held her attention. The top was off and the guts had been smashed by something heavy. A few undamaged plastic and metal pieces lay scattered over a worktable along with a variety of repair tools and replacement parts. Because of her conditioning, Kella couldn’t be certain, but it might have been part of a comm-panel.

  Eily slipped past the shield door, shut it, and sighed. She looked like a woman with too many headaches, with Kella accounting for at least five or six of them.

  She checked the screens at length before turning her attention back to her prisoner. “How long have you been hiding here?”

  Kella decided to answer; the truth would do well enough this time. Besides, her side still hurt. “Six or eight hours.”

  Darden glanced at Eily. The time meant something to them, though Eily gave nothing away. Kella had no idea how long she’d slept but made a conservative estimate in case they wanted to try linking her with the two-day-old bloodstains in the outer hall.

  “Where have you been hiding?”

  “In an officers’ wing, presumably. There weren’t any signs posted, but the food was good and the beds comfortable.”

  Eily tapped a few buttons below a screen and brought up a simple overview of the base with a dot marking their own location. “Show me. You may use one hand. The left, I think.”

  Kella flexed her fingers and pointed. “About there.”

  “And why did you venture into this area?”

  “I wanted to be sure I was alone.”

  “Are you?”

  “Not anymore.” It seemed prudent to be vague on that point.

  “How did you get inside?”

  “I found a surface hatch. The lock wasn’t difficult.”

  “Evidently, but they don’t put mere lock-breakers in Riganth. Why were you there?”

  “Something political. You wouldn’t find it interesting.”

  “Treason?”

  Kella shrugged with one shoulder. “Depends on your point of view, doesn’t it?”

  Darden scowled, shifting on
his feet to express his revulsion. Apparently he was too well trained to spit. Treason was the worst crime you could commit, as far as the System was concerned, and he looked like he believed in the System.

  “Trace the route you took from the officers’ wing,” said Eily, pointing at the map.

  “If you want to know if I saw the bloodstain, the answer is yes. Was it this Alard’s work?”

  Eily was amused, Darden was not.

  “Who is he?”

  “A fellow officer until he went brainwarp and murdered our captain.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  Eily ignored her. “The bastard’s loose somewhere in this complex, probably not far away. You’re lucky we found you first. At least you’re still alive.”

  Kella’s gratitude was thin at best. “Oh, yes. I’m so happy.”

  “Or have you met him already?”

  “Obviously not. What caused this brainwarp?”

  “Who knows?”

  Kella watched Darden as though he made her uneasy, but her chief interest was to observe his reaction to what Eily was saying. She was lying about Alard’s brainwarp; the glint in his eyes said as much.

  “Why haven’t you called for help?” Kella asked.

  “We have, it’s on the way.”

  His gaze flicked once at Eily.

  Another lie.

  “Notify Riganth you’ve found me,” Kella suggested.

  “Anxious to return?”

  “My cell is preferable to being murdered by an armed brainwarp case. Call them, they’ll lend aid.”

  “First we secure Alard. No need to have civilians on the base and getting in the way.”

  Kella had trouble keeping her face straight; that quick and ridiculous answer confirmed that they had no outside communications. She was careful not to let her gaze stray to the scattered pieces of the comm-panel.

  There was a practical method to Alard’s madness. He’d isolated the crew from immediate help, exactly what she would have done. Her next move would have been to take out the leader. Alard apparently accomplished that as well, though clumsily to judge by the mess. He must have hoped to get all three at once, but had missed. As she’d feared, the survivors were on high alert with defenses and warning systems in place.

  “Put your hand back where it was,” Darden ordered.

  “What happened to your captain?” Kella asked, obeying.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  She shrugged. “There was so much blood, I wondered what kind of weapon would do that much damage.”

  He lifted his gun. “One exactly like this; the blast hit his neck artery. Like a demonstration?”

  She shook her head, as if in sympathy. “The rest of the crew must be having fits.”

  “They’re looking for Alard.”

  Kella grunted understanding, not trusting her voice. Eily would never have sent techs to hunt an ambush killer, but keep her people close and safe.

  Right. Two survivors, both with combat training, with Darden as the greater threat. Eily was too distracted watching for Alard to keep her guard up all the time. She’d holstered her hand weapon and forgotten it. A bad move. Now if Darden’s attention could be drawn away just long enough. . .

  Eily watched one of the screens intently. “You said you were alone. Who the hell’s that?”

  Farron’s unsteady figure—barefoot, wrapped in a blanket staggered into view. The idiot.

  “He’s a convict—one of your friends?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” Kella growled.

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  “She said he was sick,” Darden put in. “What’s he got?”

  Kella shrugged.

  The cameras tracked Farron from one section to another. Kella’s caution had been for nothing. They’d seen her long before the alarm went off.

  “Darden, take the back way round again and bring him in, but careful, it might be an act, there could be more. Don’t risk yourself.”

  He left with a brisk nod. Eily brought her gun out to cover Kella. Better odds, but she was too far away to try anything yet.

  On the screen Farron took one step too many and tripped the motion sensor. He froze, looked down the hall he’d come from, and saw Darden step out.

  “Hallo.” He coughed pitifully. “D’ye mind if I give myself up?”

  “Face the wall, put your arms out, and lean on them.”

  “If I can,” he mumbled. He turned and raised them, groaning when his blanket slipped off.

  Darden darted close enough to kick his feet apart.

  “All right, I’ve got him,” he called.

  Eily motioned for Kella to stand, hands on her head, and go through the doors. Once in the hall she cut the alarm again and covered them both while Darden searched Farron for weapons. He found an auto-healer and dropped it on the blanket.

  “Clean,” he pronounced.

  Farron looked deathly. “I don’t feel at all well,” he murmured in a subdued tone.

  “Probably a hangover,” Kella said acidly. She could smell his breath even at that distance.

  “No, I mean I really don’t. Who’re these two? They with that other fellow?”

  “You’ve met Alard?”

  “Friendly sort. I think. No. I’m not sure. It’s kind of fuzzy. . .”

  “Where’d you see him?” Eily demanded.

  “Back there.” Farron half-heartedly indicated the way he’d come. “Only I thought he was ahead of me. Thought sure he was. Must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

  Or he let you get ahead to act as a decoy. Kella and Eily must have shared the same thought; as one, they looked back down the corridor, but it was empty.

  “We’re out of here,” said Eily. “Move it.”

  “Give us a hand,” Farron gasped. “I don’t feel well. Don’t. . . don’t. . .” His head drooped and his legs caved. He slipped to the floor with a solid thud.

  Darden jumped back in surprise, ready to trigger his blaster.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Eily snapped.

  Kella knelt and felt for a neck pulse. “Fainted.” Her eyes caught a peripheral movement at the first corner at the far end of the hall. She had a brief impression of a crouching shape.

  Alard.

  She dropped flat.

  Darden yelled and spun as a blast struck his side. Diving against the wall, Eily sent a half-dozen wild shots into the ceiling. Kella took advantage of the distraction to scramble to the cover of the shield door and roll through, then was up and bolting for the ship. Eily shouted after her and sent two more blasts in her direction. Kella just made it up the ramp to the open side hatch when something heavy buffeted her arm, the force of the blow pushing her inside.

  She stumbled, recovered, and raced forward to the bridge. Eily was aboard in seconds, but by then Kella ducked through the last door and cranked it shut.

  Then she went hot-cold sick and ready to drop in her tracks like Farron. Her right arm hung useless and numb; blood dribbled down its length, spattering the scuffed deck with bright color. She listed away from the door, dizzy, her stomach upside down. Behind her there was a loud snap and a crack appeared where her head had been. That stupid tech bitch had her blaster up to full power.

  “Eily!” she bellowed.

  Another shot, lower. She was crazy, blasting away inside the ship like that. Crazy or shit-scared by Alard’s killings.

  “Eily—do that again and I’ll set off the ship’s weaponry!”

  That bought a little time. Kella glanced at the controls, but the stress of the present situation brought on the old pattern again. Lights and buttons merged and danced, there was no time to sort them; finding the right one was impossible for now. Discarding that option, she looked for weapons. Nothing obvious offered itself, only a basic aid box and another fire extinguisher. She tore the box down and fumbled out a pressure bandage for her arm.

  “Come out,” Eily called through the door. “I know you’
ve been hit, I don’t want to have to hurt you again.”

  “I’m not that hurt,” she lied, trying to ignore the terrible mess she was leaving all over the deck.

  “You’ve nowhere to go.”

  “Exactly, but you do. Get off this ship or I’ll destroy it. I’ve had the training; I know how to access the firing controls. One blast in the hangar bay and we’re all cooked.”

  “You’re not that desperate.”

  “Eily, think hard on this: I’ve been in a System political prison with only System interrogators for entertainment. I’m never going back to that, so believe me when I tell you I am that desperate!”

  Hopefully, Eily would be put off by the convincingly shrill pitch in Kella’s voice. Not all of it was bluff. Kella was shit-scared herself. No time to conjure mental images to keep the fear locked away, all she could do was shove it to one side and hope it didn’t rush back and trip her.

  She got the bandage on, more or less. The blood soaked through the dressing before the thing tightened around her arm and slowed the worst of it. The loose end dangled. Had to trim it before it caught on something. Wasn’t there anything in this damned box with a sharp edge?

  “All right,” Eily called. “I’m backing off. Just take it easy.”

  A blunt-nosed cutter with a safety blade. Great for slicing away bandaging, worthless as a weapon. Kella dropped it back in the box and grabbed a packet of stimulant patches. She ripped it open with her blood-slicked fingers and slapped one on her throat. It’d take a minute to act.

  “Listen to me,” said Eily. “We need to help each other. Alard’s a threat to us all. He will kill both of us. You’re better off with me. Together we can stop him.”

  The tone and inflection were uneven as Eily moved around. What the hell was she up to?

  “He got Darden, he’s probably got your friend. We two have to cooperate!”

  Kella took the fire extinguisher from the wall and held it ready. Compared to Eily’s blaster it was useless, but she had to have some kind of weapon in hand. The solid weight of the chemicals inside provided a visceral comfort. She checked the ship’s controls again. They weren’t dancing so much. In fact, they were in sharp focus now. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it with the stimulant.