Blood Brothers

Sanctum Book One

Nos Jondi

Contents

Newsletter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Review Request

Coming Soon

About Nos Jondi

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1

RIDARA, PLANET MASS, LUANGWA STAR CLUSTER

Mavurama lifted his head and stared up. The moon that hung in the sky that night was a blood moon, crisp, silhouetted against the star-spangled darkness like a tainted piece of silver, low on the horizon. His troops kept guard at the cave entrance, the light the moon cast causing their features to appear more haggard, more macabre, like gruesome humanoid shapes out of a nightmare. Shit had officially gone from bad to worse, and it still spiraled. Seven hasty but well-calculated jumps out of the Arine system had bought them time. However little time that might be in reality, any respite was more than welcome at that point. If only he could hear himself think…

“Have you ever heard the story of the silver bullet-shaped star-ship that went into the center of the sun and came out the other side?”

“No.”

“What about the story of the witch who came through a worm-hole and defied the gravity pull of a black hole?”

“No! How many times have I told you not to fill your head with that lying saga crap? And to stop smoking that Sweet Jane shit as well?!”

“I lost count Boss.”

“That’s because you’re nothing but a dumbass.” The others seated around the circle laughed.

“Go easy on him, Sir.”

“As long as he lays off the fairy tales and the space weed, I promise I will,” Mavurama said, turning to the soldier seated beside him.

“Licinius, I’m only going to tell you once more. No more Sweet Jane and no more popular space fic. Out here we need to stay focused. That crap slows down reaction time.”

Licinius gave a curt nod.

“Ok, Sir. I promise.”

“And if I do catch you smoking that crap again, I will cut your heart out and feed it to the Meat-eaters.”

“But Sir!” Licinius exclaimed. “That’s not fair! Half of the crew smokes that stuff!”

Mavurama stood up, waving his steel-cup through the air. The conversation died down almost immediately.

“I find anyone smoking Sweet Jane, I will cut them until they bleed out. I mean it. You all know that stuff affects our neural synapses. The last thing I need is a bunch of glass-heads under my command. This fight is a long way from over. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” they said. Mavurama turned to Licinius.

“Happy now, Licinius?”

Licinius’ mouth drooped so low, it looked like it would fall off his face any minute.

“Good,” Mavurama sat back down on his rock, his attention shifting to the figure seated on his other side.

“Pang, how long before we can leave this wretched planet? The short nights are making me cranky.”

Pang, his communications officer, tapped at the keys on her computer.

“The general repairs to the ship are progressing steadily. It took a pounding during the last attack by the Impies. We’ll be here for a couple more days at least.”

Mavurama swore, his shoulders slouched forward.

“That can’t be avoided. Repairs aren’t things you rush. Go on.”

“The lights on the food storage tanks all read orange presently. They’ll be up to green by the end of the day. There’s more than enough to last us a while,” Pang said, her face illuminated by the glare of the screen.

“And our blood banks?” Mavurama asked.

Pang looked up nervously, biting her lower lip.

“That’s the bad part,” she said. “Our blood banks are down to thirty percent. Even if we do make it off this planet, it won’t be enough to last us a month. We’ll be so weak from exhaustion we’ll end up crawling around like dogs.”

Mavurama swore again, closing his eyes, his chin almost touching his chest. He remained that way for a few minutes, then opened his eyes again, both eyes dark and slightly blood-shot, reflecting the light of the campfire. The cave was cold, its floor littered with damp leaves and deadwood, but the burning logs in the center of the cave floor provided adequate heat. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Going without food was fine. Blood was another issue altogether. Blood held life. They drew their strength from it. Without it, they might as well place their gun barrels against their chins and eat the bullets. They were walking dead without the blood. They had consumed too much after the last attack.

“So, are you saying we’ll die if we don’t find more blood soon, is that it?” Licinius asked. Mavurama glared at him.

“For fuck’s sake! Yes, Licinius, that is exactly what she is saying!” he snapped. Licinius drew away as if bitten by an angry snake.

“I’m sorry, just pay more attention, ok?” Mavurama said softly, relaxing his clenched fists. “It’s important that you do.” He turned back to Pang, her hands resting on her keyboard.

“The last assault by the Emperor took its toll on us, and we’ve yet to recover,” he said, staring into the camp-fire. “Those bastards are still in pursuit. They know we need blood. They will keep coming. Makes me wonder how the Meat-eaters are faring.” He paused, still staring into the fire. “How far from here to Basongo?”

“The Planet Penitentiary?” Pang asked. “About a two days journey.”

“That’s good enough. We need blood, and the closet source is Basongo,” Mavurama said.

“But Sir,” Pang said. “Basongo is heavily fortified, all the prison planets are, ever since we hit the last five. We go anywhere near Basongo and we’re unlikely to make it back.”

“It’s that or a slow death by blood deprivation. Which would you prefer Pang? You’ve got a real pretty face. You know the blood in your veins keeps it that way.”

Pang blushed, saying nothing.

“We are running out of blood fast,” he said, rubbing his jaws gently. “You said so yourself. We go any further out than we are now, there’s no telling what might happen along the way. Basongo is our best chance. If we pull it off, we get to replenish our supplies, with enough blood to last us the next couple of jumps out of this sector. We can always face the rising sun, but that’s a painful way to go. Especially by vamp standards. We have few options left and ‘doing dirty’ is not one of them.”

“Understood Sir,” she said.

“Inform the Captains I want to see them all in the next thirty minutes. It’s now or it’s never. Personally, I say we go with now.”

2

EBORACUM, PLANET SINGULARIS

General Namoto sat at his over-sized desk, thoughts tracking their way round his mind. An open file sat out in front of him, the white of the pages staring back, the words tattooed across their surfaces, photos of places and people. Schematics. Damn schematics. He hated schematics. They confused him, and he did not like being confused. He bunched a fist; he wanted more than anything to bang the table-top, turn the whole thing upside down and smash something…anything, against one of the walls surrounding him. He looked up at his Captains seated opposite and wondered what they would think if he did.

“Where are they now?” he asked the black-haired one on his right. Her name-tag read “J. Ruvuma.”

“We lost them in the Arine System,” she said. “They jumped into deep space, and we haven’t been able to pinpoint where they ended up next. It could take us weeks to find them, but rest assured we will, Sir.”

“I wouldn’t have to rest assured if you hadn’t lost them in the first place, Captain. The Emperor is growing impatient with our lack of progress. The longer the Nami remain free to roam the Universe, the longer our Imperial Security is at stake. I don’t need to give you this lecture,” General Namoto said. “You’ve heard it all before.”

“With all due respect Sir, the Nos are highly trained space marines. That was what they were designed for. They can take on my troops and make sushi of them any day of the week. I’m not trying to justify our failure, just stating the facts.”

“Which I am well aware of,” General Namoto said tightly. Ruvuma bowed her head.

“I beg your pardon, Sir.”

“Permission to speak, Sir?”

“Please, Captain Tuli.”

“I would have to agree with Captain Ruvuma,” Tuli said. Her green eyes, shining like a pair of cut and polished emeralds, looked straight at the General.

This one has a pair, he thought. Always did.

“We’ve been on the Nami’s tail,” Tuli said, “for what...close to five years now? We have little to show for it. We’ve made some kills, but our losses have been disproportionate. They’ve killed more of us than we have of them. And that is when they choose to stand and fight. Most times, they run. We’ve chased them across hundreds of star systems and through countless star-fields. Like Captain Ruvuma said, they were made for this kind of thing. Our regular troops weren’t. It’s no longer a case of simply pursuing them and hoping they raise a white flag. Like us, they are fighters, and they know the code. Live and fight or die trying. All they need to do is lay low and recoup their strength before they carry out their next assault. We need to change our strategy.”

General Namoto remained quiet for a few seconds. He massaged his chin with his left hand, the other on the desk, well-manicured fingers absentmindedly spreading out the papers in front of him.

“I know where you’re going with this Captain Tuli, and the answer is still no. Same as the last time you brought it up,” he said. “The Emperor will not allow it. The Ministers of Defence and Internal Security are adamant on that point. It was on their recommendation that the Senate blocked that proposal.”

“Sir, all we need to do is look at what’s happening on the ground,” Tuli said, unperturbed by the General’s comment. “The Nami currently number about ten thousand. We outnumber them 500 to one, and yet they’ve kicked our asses every step of the way, time and time again. As my law lecturers back in school would say, res ipsa loquitor.”

“The facts speak for themselves,” General Namoto said.

“Exactly Sir,” Tuli said.

General Namoto’s rugged features softened.

“Alright, Captains, I will take your concerns under advisement,” he said. “In the meantime, we still have a job to do, regardless of the odds being heavily stacked against us. As you rightly said Captain Tuli, live and fight or die trying. May I please now have your report on the man-eaters?”

“We’ve tracked several groups to the Aergon Star system, to a planet called Rint. It’s primarily an agricultural-based economy, specializing in animal husbandry. We know the man-eaters prefer fresh kills as opposed to frozen meats. With the abundance of wild game on the hundreds of planets in this star system and the commercialized farming, we believe they will settle on several other planets there for a while. The problem now is finding out which ones.”

“How is that coming along?” he asked.

Tuli wasn’t going to deny anything.

“Slow,” she admitted. “It always is Sir. They’ll be spotted eventually.”

“And the Nos?” General Namoto asked Captain Ruvuma.

“Our last run-in with several groups of Night-feeders left us with the upper hand,” she said. “They’re running low on blood rations, due to the heavy casualties they sustained. Mavurama’s last jump co-ordinates put them in the Luangwa star cluster. Based on their earlier methods, we think they might try to make it down to Basongo and make away with a few prisoners like they did last time we fought them. If they need human blood as badly as we believe they do, it will make them desperate. Not to mention cunning and more dangerous.”

“They’re already both those things, Captain. You don’t sound sure of yourself,” General Namoto said.

“That’s because I’m not. The Nos have proven to be resourceful. The only times we’ve been remotely successful against them is with the use of Nova bombs and on raids during the day when they are at their weakest. The disorganization of their last attack could simply be a ruse to get us to think that they’re fairing badly to throw us off our game. We can’t really be sure about anything at this point,” she replied.

“Which is why we are going to cover all our bases.” General Namoto straightened his back, looking directly at his two Captains.

“Captain Tuli, prepare the groundwork for your next assault. As always, you have authority to use whatever means you deem fit to put an end to the meat-eaters. Captain Ruvuma, notify all the prison blocks and planets in the Luangwa star cluster and the neighboring sector. Basongo is to be put on the highest alert. We’ve hit them hard before; we need to hit them even harder this time and hope to the afterlife that they break.”

* * *

As Captains Ruvuma and Tuli left to carry out their orders, General Namoto gathered up his cap, asking his secretary to call up his driver.

The sun was at a peak in the sky against an expansive sheet of clear blue when he arrived at the Acropolis. He looked up at the statue of the current Emperor at the top of the stairs leading to the Imperial Hall. It was quiet. Most people still ate their lunch or attended midday prayers in the Imperial Chapel located about half a mile behind the Hall. His eyes fell again on the statue of the Emperor as the car moved on down the road to the cluster of Imperial Ministry Buildings situated at the center of the Hill. The Acropolis. The seat of all Imperial power on Singularis and the entire Empire. It was a lot of power; he would know. That power had been in his family for generations, in various forms.

Lawyers, senators…lawyers who had become senators. Judges. Judges who had become senators. Ministers, reformers, businesspersons…the list went on. His own father, an aggressive business tycoon, died a billionaire. He left his family an attractive legacy and Namoto a substantial inheritance, something Namoto was grateful for. Namoto had never been much for politics or business and all the other crap that went on at the Acropolis, which was why he never followed in his father’s footsteps. He was a military man. A hands on man. Give him an air rifle and target any day. His own share of the family inheritance meant that money and material things were fixations he didn’t have to worry about. That lack of concern enabled him to focus on his career. It was that stellar career that won him the admiration and respect of his peers. He had married, the children arrived a few years later. They had seen to it that his father’s legacy to him was not wasted.

Money was power and he did not forget that. Add it to military might and it became a formidable power one could wield, especially in a place as feeble-minded as the Acropolis. Military power was not everything, and he knew this fact only too well. Most people looked on the uniform with apprehensive suspicion, bordering on distrust. It symbolized unparalleled death and wanton destruction. What people forgot, rather deliberately when he thought about it, was that the freedoms and debauchery they so treasured and enjoyed were because of the deeds by those in that infamous uniform.

The rats. The opportunity to live as they wanted was borne on the backs of others. By the blood of others. Brave men and women who had joined the stillness of the night. So whenever he visited the Acropolis, he always wore the best suit that money could buy. People always admired a good suit. Money was a god to the people on the Hill, and hell, he had enough under his belt to be considered some sort of demi-god. Money and the opportunity to spend it were all the little people on the Hill lived for.

No one ever forgot these truths about General Namoto. To them, he was a dangerous man for all the right reasons. He had even been approached to campaign for the Presidency, something he shunned outright. To accept that meant spending his days prancing around in a monkey suit and sitting in an office, like an animal in a cage, always under the distrustful eye of vultures and liars masquerading as friends. He had his own life and had fought long and hard for the freedom to live that life the way he saw fit. After all, there was nothing that his money could not buy, except maybe his freedoms. Freedoms that were bought and paid for with his own sweat and tears.

Work for it all by yourself, so no one can claim they gave you shit, his father had loved to repeat. Experience, his achievements, the loyalty and respect of the men and women who served under him. These were things money could not buy. Namoto would keep them, no matter what. They were all the only things that truly mattered, after his wife and children, of course.

The car pulled up at the steps to the Ministry of Defence. The guards on duty saluted him, and an armed guard promptly escorted him to the Ministers’ office.

“Jude, so good to see you. That military precision of yours always enables you to be on time,” the Minister of Defence said, standing up from behind his desk, an arm extended.

“The military has got nothing to do with my time keeping skills, Jim,” Namoto said. “My father was the timekeeper of the Universe. To him, time was everything and everything else was nothing. He drilled that into my brain like clockwork every day.”

“A wise man,” the Minister of Internal Security and Affairs said.

“Good to see you too, Raymond,” Namoto said. They took their seats, Namoto unbuttoning his jacket.

“You two called this meeting,” Namoto said. “Here I am.”

“Jude, come now,” Jim said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“When the military and the guys on the Hill mix, you know what happens. So, I’m assuming that is why we are here. To discuss the mess the joining of the two has caused,” Namoto said.

Jim grinned. He knew well what Namoto was talking about, as did Raymond.

“We know how you felt about the whole program, but it did achieve a tremendous amount of good,” Jim said.

“Then why have we spent the last five years trying to bring order to the chaos?” Namoto. “My captains in charge of going after the Nos and the Carni have told me explicitly we are nowhere near ending this thing.”

“That is why we called you here, Jude,” Raymond said. The expression on his face was somber. Namoto knew whatever Raymond had to say next was something he didn’t want to hear.

“If that’s the case, it’s been a wasted trip,” Namoto said, raising his hands. “We’ve had this discussion a thousand times. It’s a lost cause. When we first started the Deus Project, I told you it was going to come back and bite us in the ass. Neither of you listened. Sure, we won the war against the Warlords, but where are we now? The half-breeds are running around the Universe doing what we created them for, only they’re not taking orders from us. They are a law unto themselves, and we’re failing to rein them in. Something I’ve found difficult to admit and now there, I have. I’ve said it. I admit the hard truth.”

Raymond glanced at Jim, shifting his eyes back to Namoto.

“Everything you’ve said is on point and on record. We all know now you were right. However, it’s too late to undo what we’ve done. The Warlords were a nasty bunch, and they met a fitting end for all their crimes. You’ve rightly highlighted the problem we have with the half breeds is much bigger than we anticipated. We’ve read the reports throughout Operation Hunt and Destroy, and we agree that we are not making any progress in subjugating them. We need to rethink our approach to the whole thing and time is of the essence,” Raymond said.

Namoto narrowed his eyes.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked his colleague.

“Cyborgs,” Raymond answered.

Namoto said nothing for a few seconds.

“You’re kidding,’ His eyes moved away from Raymond, looking across the desk at Jim.

“He’s joking, right?’ Namoto asked Jim. Jim leaned forward, his hands clasped as if in prayer.

“The Emperor has issued an imperial directive, ID-XD 51. He wants the half-breeds stopped yesterday, by any and all means necessary,” Jim said.

“What does he think we’ve been doing all this time?” Namoto sneered. ‘The Emperor wanted the half-breeds. He got them. They took a shit in his lap and he’s still trying to wash off the smell. He needs to take that shit like a man. Now, he wants cyborgs, and I guess he’ll get them too. No, gentlemen, count me out of this one. Two mistakes don’t make a right. You’re left with nothing but more shit in the end.”

“Hear us out, Jude,” Jim said, straightening his back

“No, you hear me out, Jim.” Namoto held up an index finger. “There are reasons we don’t have cyborgs in the Armed Forces. Cyborgs are dangerous. End of story. It’s been proven before, especially ones that are programmed to kill. Our mistake was in thinking that the half-breeds would roll over like puppy-dogs if we kept them on a leash. You never imagined that leash breaking. The first generation of independent machines showed they had the capacity to evolve and develop free-will. Fine and good, that beats having to program it for all the unforeseeable situations that might arise. In truth though, that’s the last thing you want, when that machine is programmed with combat skills.”

He stood up, buttoning his jacket.

“If you want to proceed with this, be my guest, but know this: I will not allow them aboard my ships or under my command. We screwed up once, gentlemen, and a lot of good people have paid the price for that error in judgment. If you decide to continue with this program, I’m not saving anyone’s ass on this Hill, and that includes the Emperor. He may be the Emperor, but he’s not God. He can’t have everything he wants. Fuck him. You can go tell him I said that. Everything. Verbatim.” Namoto bowed and gathered up his hat, exiting the room without another word.

“That didn’t go very well,” Raymond said.

“No shit it didn’t,” Jim snapped.

“He has a point, though.”

“And you have a gift for stating the obvious.”

“Come on, you know he’s right. Cyborgs are a bad idea. Worse than the half-breeds. At least the half-breeds reason. Machines are cold, merciless. If they end up in the hands of the wrong people, saying you’re screwed is a gross understatement. You’re righteously fucked then.” Raymond fell back in his chair, smiling.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You never told Jude the real reason we wanted the Cyborgs back after all these years.”

“Would he have cared? He’s not stupid. The half-breeds, like he said, are our cock-up. A cock-up he has to take care of.”

“A half-breed versus a machine. A machine would definitely win.” Raymond said, rubbing his fingers together. “I agree with Jude here. While the half-breeds are a pain in the royal ass, throwing machines into the mix will put us on the edge of a black hole. We’ll all get sucked in, and there is no coming out of a black hole. You’re gone for good.”

Jim said nothing, glancing down at his watch.

“The Emperor is waiting, Ramie. We have to disappoint him, tell him Jude didn’t bite.”

3

ASYLUM PENTITANTARY, Q’DON, PLANET BASONGO, LUANGWA STAR CLUSTER

Vinny unscrewed the cap from the metallic thermos flask and poured himself a cup. Raising the mug to his nose and breathing deeply, a Cheshire cat-like grin spread across his face. The coffee was nothing short of crap; it didn’t keep him awake anymore, but it smelled…seductive…for lack of a better word. He took a sip, making a face. Shit all the way. Nothing beat good smelling coffee, except perhaps good tasting coffee. He took another sip. Nothing was perfect, so he wouldn’t complain.

He looked out the observation window, unsightly smudges running from top to bottom. He’d have to get those taken care of before the week was out. Beyond the window the moon set, a light fog taking shape close to the ground. In a few hours, the sun would rise. Vinny always enjoyed the end of the night-time more than any other period. A four-hour dawn he knew existed nowhere else. The moon was present in the sky every day of the year, never hidden from sight. There was no such thing as a first quarter, last quarter, crescent moon or that kind of thing on Basongo. It had something to do with the fact that Basongo had three suns. He wasn’t sure, and more to the point didn’t care. As long as every night ended with as little drama as possible and a mug of sweet-smelling coffee in his hand, he was okay.

“Hey, Vinny,” his assistant warden called from behind him. “Just received a communication from Singularis Military High Command.”

He turned around, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Well, what does it say Jorge?”

“Captain Janet Ruvuma of the 51st Star-ship Division, Special Forces Unit, is informing us that she will be arriving here in the next hour. We are to make ready for her arrival. She...wow, will be landing with four thousand troops and half that many planes spread throughout the sector,” Jorge said, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. His lanky frame hunched over the keyboard to the communications console, the message printout inches away from his face. Vinny took a few quick steps forward and snatched the paper from Jorge’s trembling hands.

“Let me see that. You can’t be reading that right,” he said. His eyes skimmed over the one-page message. His whole body stood statue-still, the steam from his cup curling its way up to the ceiling of their small office. He lowered the letter slowly, staring out into space at nothing in particular.

“What does it mean, Vinny?” Jorge asked, his voice anxious and troubled. Vinny broke out of his daydream, pointing his cup at Jorge.

“It means those monsters we’ve heard about all these months are finally in our neck of the woods. Nothing else in all the known Universe justifies this much man or firepower. It’s time to get to work.”

* * *

The docking bay doors opened almost silently, bands of intense sunlight painting themselves across the floor. The first of the fighter and transport planes hovered through, gliding in like giant metallic insects. They’d had to clear the area of all the regular planes there earlier, moving them to disused hangars at the end of the facility. There wouldn’t have been enough room for all the craft that were presently scheduled to land otherwise.

“That’s a lot of planes,” Jorge said. He stood next to Vinny on the observation deck that overlooked the main hangar.

“It seems they’re concentrating the bulk of their operation here at Asylum. Whatever they’re afraid will happen, they’re pretty damn sure it will happen here,” Vinny said.

Jorge looked at Vinny in surprise.

“How do you know all that Vin?”

Vinny’s smile was weary.

“Ex-marine, remember?”

A huge Scarab transport landed to the side, in the section designated for VIP planes. Small clouds of dust wafted underneath its bulky frame, its engines shutting down with a gentle whine.

“Time to get our asses below. Come on,” Vinny said. They took the lift down and stepped onto the hangar deck. As they approached the landing area, a side door on the Scarab opened and stairs folded out like playing cards, sliding one over the other until they touched the floor. A woman in uniform appeared at the top, looked around briefly, and descended the stairwell cautiously.

Vinny reached the bottom of the stairs as she stepped foot onto the main floor, surrounded by four guards. Vinny saw they were all heavily armed with automatic weapons and long swords and spears attached to their backs. He stopped and saluted.

“Vincent La Ruse, Chief Warden, Asylum Penitentiary, Q’don. This is my Assistant Warden, Jorge Rasmussen.” Jorge saluted, his lips trembling.

“Captain Janet Ruvuma. It’s clear that you got my letter in time,” she said.

“Yes, Madame. We’ve tried to be as thorough as possible. Please, this way.” Vinny led the way back up to his office, Ruvuma barking orders to her officers as they went.

Two guards stood watch in the corridor, the other two on the inside of the room. Ruvuma made herself comfortable in Vinny’s chair. She hadn’t asked, but he didn’t mind. As far as military operations went, it might be his prison, but she was in charge from that moment onwards. She didn’t appear to be unpleasant, and he hoped she remained that way. It was always harder to deal with people when they rubbed their authority in your face.

“Sorry for the short notice, security protocols. You’re a former military man, so I will safely assume that you understand these things,” she said. She wore full military gear, minus the helmet. He had heard of Janet Ruvuma over the years but had never met her in person. Her star had risen long after he left the service.

“No need to worry,” he said. ‘I understand perfectly, although I would like to ask what is going on. Your letter mentioned nothing apart from some general details.”

Ruvuma glanced out the observation window that had received a thorough shine within the last hour. She turned back to Vinny, a searching look in her eyes.

“It’s your prison, your backyard, your prisoners, so I won’t do the run around with you,” she said. “Your service in the military was distinguished. I won’t patronize you either. Have you ever heard of Project Deus?”

”Not much really, except that it was a military experiment in cybernetic warfare the Acropolis shut down about a decade ago. The cyborgs were supposed to be used in the war against the Warlords in the tropical and desert mandates. They were deemed too dangerous, so they scrapped the whole project.”

Ruvuma ran a hand through her short, black hair before continuing.

“There was indeed a Project Deus, started by the Military at the behest of the Imperial Government on Acropolis, about twenty or so years ago. The Project aimed to invent a super-solider capable of dealing with the Warlords in the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn. We all know that the Warlords were a long-standing problem the Military had problems subjugating.” She paused suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

“Might I just add, for the sake of your Assistant here,” Ruvuma looked at Jorge, “All this is strictly classified information. Any word of this gets out, and I happen to trace the source back to you, you’ll find yourselves spending real jail time, right here in Asylum.”

Vinny smiled, glancing at his assistant warden.

“No need to worry about us,” he said, laughing. Jorge nodded furiously.

“Good. The Warlords were a nasty bunch of bastards,” she went on, “Widespread, murder, torture and rape, they were a law unto themselves. Tons of pressure mounted on the Acropolis to put an end to their brazen crimes.”

Vinny remembered it all, how could he forget? He’d fought in those wars and had the scar to prove it.

“A proposal was pushed forward for cyborgs to go into the Belts and take out the Warlords. But the work with first-generation robots proved flawed. The machines, assigned with simple duties, ranging from intel gathering to administrative duties, began gaining independence. That was something difficult to correct once it had infected the machine in question, and we ended up pulling them offline completely. We started thinking that perhaps cyborgs were not such a good idea. Fortunately, none of these were programmed with any kind of military training programs. Going up against a fighting machine is everyone’s worst nightmare.”

“The cyborgs were put in the freezer and forgotten about. A new plan was hatched, one we thought was much safer than killer machines. Fantasy fiction inspired this new project. Vampires, werewolves, big-foot, things like that. Among all those mythical creatures and monsters, two ideas topped the list. Vampires and werewolves. We thought if killer machines are too dangerous to toy around with, let’s make humans endowed with supra-human powers to fight this long-standing war of ours. That has to be safer. Humans aren’t bulletproof, so they can be killed. So that’s what we did. We created the Vamps and the Carni, collectively known as the Nami, sent them out into the Belts and the war was over in less than two years.”

Vinny frowned.

“Are you saying all the stories we’ve heard about vampires and flesh-eating people are not exaggerations about some weird cult, but actual vampires and werewolves?” he asked.

“Yes, but there is some truth to the exaggerations,” Ruvuma said. “I’ve been assigned the task of tracking down the Vamps, Nosferatium Superior. That’s what brought me here. They are not the same as the ones in the stories. They aren’t afraid of garlic, holy water, or religious relics. They were designed for speed, agility, and strength, coupled with a high intelligence quotient. They are the perfect killing machines.”

“And the Carni?” Jorge said, his pale expression lending him the appearance of one who had come down with a fever.

‘The Vamps are the brains, the Carni are the brawn. Bigger and stronger, they were designed for brute strength. They could go places the Nos’ delicate frames, comparatively speaking, couldn’t. Their fail-safe is the need for human flesh. That’s where they get their strength from. Without that, they become weaker, and it affects their neural pathways. If they don’t get a certain RDA of human flesh, their systems crash and they die. All the Nami were designed the same way. The same thing happens to Vamps if they don’t get the recommended RDA of blood. There were a lot of enemies in the field, and the Nami kept their kills.”

Vinny stared at her, disbelief working the lines on his face.

“Does anyone one on the Acropolis have a conscience?” he asked.

“Sure, but the war was all anyone thought of, and everyone wanted it to be over,” Ruvuma said, a casual air about her. “General Namoto was vocal in his objections to the Project, but public opinion was louder and won the day. The war ended, and that was all that mattered.”

“So why are you here? You still haven’t answered that part,” Vinny said.

“After the war was over, some Nami wanted an independent state. There was no way they were going to fit into ordinary society. The Vamps prefer to sleep during the day, prolonged exposure to sunlight burns them. The Carni scare anyone from a mile off. Their Republic would basically be one that operated at night.”

“A nation full of freaks,” Vinny said.

“The very idea got the suits on the Hill scared shitless. They’d all seen the Nami in action. General Namoto strongly suggested to let them live out their lives in peace, a reward for the service they’d rendered to the Empire.”

“I find that strange,” Jorge said.

“Why?” Ruvuma asked.

“Well, you said it was an open secret that General Namoto objected the whole Deus experiment. Why would he back them up later?”

“For the simple reason that the Nami are all sterile. If they live out their lives, they will eventually all die. Problem gone, problem solved,” Ruvuma answered.

“But I guess that still didn’t take with everyone?” Vinny said.

“Some were uneasy having ‘people’ like the Nami running around unchecked. It also raised ethical questions. How do we keep feeding these things we created, especially with the war over? They need human blood and flesh to survive, and it all has to be fresh. The Vamps were fine, that was no problem, plenty of blood banks around. But the Carni need a daily supply of human protein. You can’t go and rip that off the nearest donor. People don’t die every day like they do in war. The trouble started with them, and around the same time the decision was reached to exterminate Generation One. The Nami found out what the Government was up to. They commandeered star-ships and have been on the run ever since,” she said.

“How long?” Jorge asked.

‘Five years and we’re nowhere near to seeing the end of this thing. These guys are more than organized,” Ruvuma said.

“What do they want with my prison?” Vinny said. “This isn’t a blood bank.”

“It is, in a way,” Ruvuma said. ‘You have prisoners here. Walking, living, breathing blood banks. The group we believe about to assault this facility has attacked five others.” Vinny had heard about the previous incidents too, the details vague.

“The vamps behind these series of attacks is a group led by a former Captain turned Commander by the name Norman Mavurama. He was a prominent figure during the wars.”

“How do these Vampires plan on using my prisoners?’ Vinny asked.

“The Vamps keep you in stasis, while you provide blood for them, feeding you through tubes, pumping you with medicines so you don’t fall sick. Mavurama is unlike the other vamp leaders who don’t care who they get blood from. Most vampire leaders kidnap, women, children…anyone vulnerable enough. Mavurama has shunned that path and resorted to raiding prison planets, like this one, for his bodies instead.”

“Men already condemned,” Vinny said. “I would say good riddance, but we have to uphold the law.”

“Precisely,” Ruvuma said. “We’re not here to catch Mavurama but to prevent him from succeeding in his plans.”

“Thirty thousand men is a lot of prisoners,” Vinny said, now sitting on a shelf, his legs dangling down, hands clasped and resting between his thighs.

“Which is why we’ve narrowed it down to this list,” she reached into her jacket and produced a paper, folded down the middle. She handed it to Jorge, who passed it on to Vinny. They studied the list together.

“That’s a lot of names,” Vinny said.

“They need a lot of blood,” Ruvuma replied.

“Can these Vamps turn people?” Jorge said.

“No, they can’t.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Jorge said, a look of pure relief on his face.

“Their numbers have been dropping steadily but not quickly enough for the guys on the Hill.”

“So what do we do now?” Jorge said.

“Wait and make the most of a bad situation,” she replied. Jorge’s face sagged at her last sentence.

“Don’t look so dejected,” Ruvuma said, getting to her feet. “You could always pray for a miracle. Like maybe they change their minds. But I wouldn’t count on it. Those blood-suckers are very happy with the beautiful minds they have. They don’t know what the word fear means.”

4

KAZUMBA GAME RESERVE, PLANET GAIA

Lieutenant Uvinza bent down for a closer look, placing her assault rifle gently on the ground next to her. After a few minutes, she reached for her weapon and straightened up.

“The drag marks lead off into that cluster of trees.”

They all stared at the trees.

“We have to go in there?”

“Yes, Masi, we have to go in there.”

“It’s dark and tangled and the perfect place to get ambushed by those cannibals,” Masi said. “Why can’t we just smoke them out? Send in a salvo or something.”

“And risk killing the other animals in there? No way. This is a game reserve, not a slaughterhouse. We’re not here to do any more harm to the environment than is permissible. The Flora and Fauna Preservation Act prevents us from harming any living thing in the area.”

“Does that include the Carni as well?” The group burst out laughing.

“That’s cute, Uvira,” she snapped. “Can the crap people. The Carni know we’re here, so the element of surprise is something we don’t have. Ralph, solar grenade.”

“Yes, Madame.” Ralph stepped forward and hoisted a metre length metallic grey device onto his shoulder, aiming the nozzle at the tangled mass of vines and creepers. He placed a palm against a biometric scanner located on the side of the missile launcher.

The weapon jumped, its nozzle pushing upwards and back as the discharge sped towards the forest. It veered over the top, high over the trees, quickly disappearing from sight as it arched downwards. There was a dull thud, followed by a blinding light as the grenade exploded, their helmets filtering out the fallout. They waited for a few seconds as the light faded, followed by a loud howl and something heavy stumbling through the trees.

“That’s our cue! Let’s go people! Weapons hot!” Uvinza said. They ran across the open space, their rifles raised. Moisture laden grass slapped against and bounced off their gear. The sun vanished from the sky, veiled by the interlocking branches overhead.

The air was much cooler and the ground moist. Layers of fallen leaves lay bunched up at the base of trees. Broken branches, berries, and seeds mixed in with the rest of the debris. A powerful storm had passed through a couple of days ago, causing them to nearly lose the Carni. Fortunately, they’d picked them up again two nights ago, coming across a dozen carcasses of large deer at the foot of a group of hills to the southwest. The deer had been completely stripped to the bone, hollowed out, empty shells, their innards missing. The ground was already drying out, and clear sets of footprints led away from the dead animals deep into the neighboring hills. The Carni were clearly not too bothered to hide their tracks. A mistake on their part. It hadn’t rained since then, and the tracks had only hardened, still visible by day. The tracks disappeared into a savannah plain, but the grass had been disturbed, yellowed and depressed in several places, pressed down into the mud. The Carni had been weighted down by their load. That trail led them to this clump of forest where she was sure the Carni had stopped to rest. Her instincts proved right.

“Lieutenant Uvinza, this is a typical Carni set up, but I still don’t see any sign of them, even with thermal imaging.”

“That’s because they’re getting smarter, Tager. It’s taking longer to track them down. They’re covering up their whereabouts a lot better,” Uvinza said.

As they moved on, the trees and shrubs grew close together, but with enough space between them for her and her team to pass through easily.

They had first found burrows in other parts of the planet, mostly in forested areas, where the surface vegetation hid the entrances from sight. Following that discovery came the fateful decision to enter one of the burrows. Two members of her team were killed, torn to shreds, like meat strips. The Carni used that particular burrow network as a storage facility, placing motion sensors a few hundred metres in. They were no match for such highly trained creatures on their own turf. After barely making it out, she’d mapped the entire burrow system and called in an airstrike. A bunk buster took out the burrow and the several hundred Carni inside very nicely, thank you very much.

It was standard procedure now not to go into a burrow. A few high-velocity grenades, finished off with a bunk buster were the safest way to take out a pack.

The shadows deepened but they saw nothing much apart from more trees, creepers and matted debris. Lieutenant Uvinza stopped at the foot of a large oak, slowly raising her hand. The rest of her team halted behind her.

A large clearing opened up beyond the trees. The grass was dried out and withered. Bare patches could be seen in several areas, black loam soils underneath.

“Tager,” she said.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“This area...what does it look like to you?”

Tager was quiet for a few seconds before responding.

“Like a landing site.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Uvinza said. ‘The question is, a landing site for what? This particular group of Carni doesn’t possess any means of getting off Gaia, which is why they’ve resorted to digging themselves into these little underground networks.”

“Do you think they might have taken off in a craft, Lieutenant?” Uvira said.

“No, that’s impossible,” a soldier standing next to Uvinza said. “Our satellites would have picked it up.”

“Maybe they cloaked it. Just like how we can’t pick up their heat signatures sometimes,” Tager said.

“These things are cannibals, not software engineers,” Uvinza said. “We know they came into this forest and may be camouflaging if they’ve found a steady supply of human meat.”

She said to the soldier standing beside her, “Rink, I want you to keep a tab on those police frequencies, any murders or killings that sound suspicious between here and the immediate towns. We haven’t found any human remains so far, thank goodness. It could be because they’re becoming better at getting rid of the bodies.”

“Or they could be burrows we just haven’t found yet,” she went on. “Either way, we know they’re here, and we need to find them before they leave. The dead deer back there means they might have a storage facility somewhere close by. They wouldn’t come this far if they didn’t,”

“Perhaps they have a low altitude aerial vehicle, and this is the pick-up point,” Uvira said.

“That’s another likelihood, one that we haven’t considered,” Uvinza said.

“I also want you to calibrate the satellites to track low-level flight trajectories in this valley. If we know their next destination, we can synchronize and plan our attacks better.”

“It will be getting dark soon. The Carni are not the only things to be worried about out here. That solar grenade chased off most of the wild animals in the area, but they’ll be back,” Uvinza said, looking up beyond the canopy. “Rink, have a map drone search for any burrows in this area. Fighting these things in the dark of night is not something we’re up to. I want a watch droid out here too. I want the droid out of sight and to record everything that passes by.”

They returned along the path they had taken into the forest, the shadows merging into one. They reached the savannah plain just as the sun was setting. A low rumbling in the distance filled the air, and a transport ship appeared from over the horizon.

“Our ride’s here,” Uvinza said. The plane landed amidst a furious cloud of dirt, grass and small stones. They walked up the ship's ramp, Uvinza being the last to enter.

“The next part of this assignment depends on what the machines uncover,” she said to her troops after they had strapped themselves into their seats. “I know you’re all tired, but it’s important we find this particular group.” She didn’t have to explain anything further; they knew what she meant.

Finding the Carni wouldn’t be difficult. That was the easy part. It was what happened then that worried her.

5

ABROAD THE RUSAMBA MILITARY STARSHIP, LUANGWA STAR CLUSTER

Mavurama shook the bottle in his hands gently, two bullet-shaped capsules tumbling out. He lifted his chin, popping them into his mouth, washing them down with a glass of warm water. He closed his eyes, feeling the medicine working its way towards his stomach. He gave his forehead a gentle massage, kneading it slowly.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Pang asked.

“Yeah, just a little headache.”

“A little headache you’ve had for the past two days. That’s the first sign of blood deprivation,” Pang said. “That and the unusual crankiness with Licinius down on Planet Mass.” Mavurama opened his eyes, smiling at his communications officer.

“You’ve got a great eye for detail. That’s part of the reason I made you Chief communications officer in addition to Chief Quartermaster. You don’t miss a thing,” he said.

“Beg my pardon for saying this, but the crankiness was pretty apparent Sir. Thank you for the compliment. Although I feel was much better in the field as a fighter,” she said. They stood in the War Chamber. The other officers were set to arrive in a few minutes.

“We have plenty of willing fighters, Captain. You’re the smartest among us and its brains,” he gave his left temple a gentle tap, “that will get us out of hard places like the one we’re in.”

The coloured panels above the door glowed white, and they slid open with a sharp hiss, fifty or so of his officers filing into the room. When everyone was accounted for and present, Mavurama made his way to the center of the chamber where a large hologram table was positioned, Pang standing by his side.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. Downcast was the word that came to mind as he looked out across the room. “I know that’s hard to respond to, given the fact that we are low on blood rations.” The murmurs of agreement died down gradually.

“Which is why we’re going over the plan one more time, bringing you up to speed on the latest intel. Our agents on the ground at Q’don informed us that a squadron of fighters has arrived and our old arch enemy is back.” Excited chatter and whispering broke out among the group. Mavurama waited for it to pass. When he was sure he had their attention again, he continued.

“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, the Iron Lady is back, Captain J. Ruvuma, who you might recall gave us a real run for our money at our last encounter. She’s been a lot smarter lately than we’ve given her credit for and that is something I hope we keep in mind this time around. She’s figured out our modus operandi. The planet below is a prison planet, people. I have no doubt they have padded cells waiting for us.” The gathering burst out laughing, helping ease the tension he saw on some of the faces.

“I cannot emphasize enough how this current mission is more crucial than any other we’ve undertaken to date. The Imperial Government at Acropolis has proven, by their relentless pursuit, that they want us brought in and put down at any cost. I say screw that. Today, we’re taking the fight to them!” The gathering clapped their hands, whistles, and cheers resonating against the walls. He was glad to see they still agreed with him and were more upbeat than a few seconds ago. He knew there were dissenters, but he was assured, at least at that moment, that even they could see reason. This was not the time to be squabbling.

Mavurama looked at Pang, and she tapped at her hand-held computer. A schematic snapped into suspension above the hologram-table with a slight fizzle and a gentle burst of static.

“The beautiful planet of Basongo, rich with bounty,” Mavurama said, gesturing towards the hologram. “Ruvuma has arrived armed to the teeth, with around four thousand troops and half as many planes spread out across the planet and surrounding sector. That’s a lot of guns, and there are only so many bullets we can dodge before taking several in the butt.” A few chuckles, and then the room was quiet again.

“We go in as always, quietly, in a blur. We know who the targets are. Where the targets are. If we fail in acquiring those targets, we fall back on our alternative plans. This is going to get messy, that’s the truth of it, pure balls and guts. But its either do this or we starve in deep space,” Mavurama said. There was nothing more to be said. They all knew what they had to do.

“Da brack vin nyata,” he said.

“Da brack vin nyata,” the gathering responded loudly. Mavurama bowed, the gesture reciprocated by the crowd. It broke up, the officers going back to their posts.

“Pang, let me know when the ship is within launching range of the planet,” Mavurama said. Pang started, alarmed.

“Don’t tell me you’re going out there as well, Sir,” she said.

“You worry too much Pang,” Mavurama said. “Of course not, but I need to make sure this mission is off to the start we want. Once the fire-teams are down on the planet surface, what happens is out of our control. Then we have to make do with whatever hand fate deals us.”

Captains Darius Conte and Chikondi Saito checked their body armour over one more time, Darius marveling over his samurai. He turned it over repeatedly in his hands, holding it out like an appeasement offering to an angry deity. The handle was covered with Anjani hieroglyphics etched into the metal: A verse from the Sanguis Credo. He smiled at his reflection in the blade, the blade itself covered with more verses. It shone as bright as quick silver and was as light as a feather. A Diruthian Blade or Qari Samurai. It cut through most materials, sliced through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. It was made from an alloy scientists down in R and D had created shortly after fleeing the Tropics. No use in being faster than anything alive and being dragged down by the weight of your own weapons.

“Please tell me you haven’t screwed your sword, Darius,” Chikondi said. The others in the room laughed.

“Very funny,” Darius said, replacing his sword in the sheath attached to his back. “This is going to be all blood and guts. You heard Mavurama. Ruvuma has brought enough bodies to this get together to start her own little republic.”

“I guess she’s feeling the pressure just as bad as we are,” Chikondi said, still checking her weapons. Her Lance-V handgun, the Vamps’ preferred weapon of choice, tried and tested. It packed a nasty punch, able to knock a grown man right off his feet. Check. As Mavurama spoke, she sensed the urgency in his voice. She saw the anxiety in his eyes. He was very much aware of what they stood to lose during that mission.

She checked the clips in her assault rifle, the MX-II. It was set to non-lethal, loaded with stun charges. Check. All their current weapons were upgrades from what they used during the Belt Wars. Under no circumstances were they allowed to inflict fatalities. Mavurama said that would only embolden the Imperial Government and justify their repression.

“Ok, everyone gather round,” Darius clapped his hands to get his team’s attention.

“When the planet is within launching range, we are going to air-drop down to the surface. Remember: five sets of jumps before you get to the ground, and you should impact the surface without too much of a bump. We have our quota of bodies, let’s make sure we meet it.”

They put on their helmets, running last-minute systems diagnostics checks on their on-person computer software, proceeding down to the loading dock. Chikondi’s heartbeat like a jackhammer, its intensity vibrating her chest, the blood pulsating furiously in her veins. She remembered this feeling only too well, from the days from the war. Her senses heightened as her adrenal glands dumped adrenaline into her bloodstream. She looked around and knew that everyone else experienced what she was going through at that very moment. This was what they were created for, the scientist had told her. To him she had been no more than a weapon, to be used as the Emperor saw fit. She felt no sadness as she recalled that memory. Neither a machine nor a tool, but so much more. The reason she left the Belt with Mavurama was because he convinced her, along with hundreds of others, that they all had choices. They could choose the life they wanted. Yes, the war was over, but their meaning in life transcended that. They would make their own destiny among the stars, and all the cosmos would bear testimony to that.

“Excited?” Darius asked, his visor retracted and his eyes a bright orange-red.

“I would be crazy not to be,” she said.

“A lot of the regular troops said we were,” he laughed, throwing his head back and letting out a loud whoop.

Chikondi laughed and watched as the docking bay doors opened. The bright red and blue-green planet of Basongo loomed up, like a giant glass marble of swirling colours and textures, tattered clouds drifting through its atmosphere. Chikondi thought how beautiful it was and wondered if anything at that moment could compare to its splendour. She sent a command to her helmet, and her visor snapped into place. The other members of her fire-team stood behind her, readying themselves. She took a step forward, her toes just behind the redline and looked up at the signal lights, shining above the open doors. They were all amber; when they changed to green, it would be time to take the exhilarating plunge downwards.

“Alright people get ready, here it comes! Tir gova!” The second Darius finished his sentence, the light above made a loud mechanical beeping sound and the amber disappeared into green. Chikondi rushed and threw herself forward with complete abandon, like she had done a hundred times before.

The planet shot up in high definition, her helmet toning down the sound and force of the wind that tore past as she free fell gracefully through the air.

“Alright, everyone synchronize for the first jump!” Darius said. “On my mark, three, two, one, jump!” She closed her eyes and willed herself to some other place. Based on their calculations, they gauged how many jumps they needed to complete in order to cover the distance between the main ship and the planet surface without landing in a splatter. Teleporting in freefall was not easy compared to being stationary. It required a great deal of focus and concentration, things she had in spades.

She teleported in, a cloud of azure smoke peeling away, the planet much closer than it had been earlier. Darius’ voice came loud and clear over the intercom a second time, and they jumped out again. Three jumps later found them standing on the hard ground, surrounded by dense trees and bush. The prison’s stone facade towered tall over the forest in the distance, powerful searchlights conducting continuous sweeps of the immediate vicinity.

“Ration up, all that jumping took plenty out of us. Sixty seconds and we move on. Mailer, radio to the other fire-teams that we‘ve made planet surface and are heading out. Don’t give them our position, the Imperial Army is probably monitoring our frequencies,” Darius said. Chikondi sent a command to her suit to dump a litre of blood into her bloodstream through a patch in her left upper arm. It did and she felt rejuvenated a few seconds later. The ideal quota after any jump as intense as the one they’d just completed was five litres. With the Impies in constant pursuit, they were now down to one per every five jumps. Their bodies adapted but more would have helped.

“Ok, let’s go, I don’t need to remind everyone to stick to the shadows,” Darius said. They moved quickly and silently through the dark undergrowth. The moon was out and cast deformed shadows all throughout the forest. They avoided the patches of light that cut through the trees, making sure they kept close to the ground. These missions were simple compared to the ones she had run during the Old War. Being spotted during those meant getting lit up by a salvo of missiles and automatic fire. She had friends who perished in forest fires, the thick smoke making it difficult to teleport once the infernos started. Captain Ruvuma was fortunately not adopting the same tactics.

“We’re approaching the prison now,” Darius said. “Get your handguns and blades ready. Mailer, give us eyes on the surrounding area.”

Mailer craned his neck forward, his body bent over, almost like he was praying.

“There are approximately a hundred mobile light units scattered through the no – man’s land that runs right around the prison. Drone planes are patrolling the skies, as well as Pyro-ships directly above the forest and a thousand troops on the inside of the security fence. The no-man’s land is booby-trapped with land mines,” he said.

“They aren’t taking any chances this time. Fifty metres through a mined area is a mindless thing to do, and we don’t have the luxury of dying today,” Darius said. “Time for a little weather making.”

* * *

Jorge wrapped his jacket around him tighter, giving his arms a vigorous rub. The temperature had dropped, necessitating the use of the office heaters. He shivered, his lips pressed together.

“This is weird,” he said, burying his hands deep inside his coat pockets. “It’s just below zero, but we’ve never had this kind of weather before on Basongo.”

Vinny had to agree. Jorge was right. It was strange. Basongo did experience a cold, dry season, but nothing as extreme as this. He had a couple of ideas and decided to keep them to himself. Jorge was already on the verge of paranoia, so there was no need to fuel those fears. That would just be cruel.

“What do you think’s going on?’” Jorge said. They were in their office, where Captain Ruvuma told them to remain.

“I don’t know,’ he lied. It could be anything.”

“Do you think it’s the Vamps?” Jorge said.

“Like I said, it could be anything. Just relax Jorge, ok?” he replied.

“Maybe they have a weather machine, that’s the only way to explain this freak weather. She did say they put their victims in stasis. Maybe they want to freeze the bodies before they take them up to their mother ship,” Jorge said, while he hopped from one foot to the other.

“A mother ship?” Vinny raised his eyebrows. “And who told you they have a mother ship?”

“How else do they move around and launch their attacks?” Jorge answered, looking straight at Vinny.

“You have a point there,” he said, gazing out the observation window, the courtyard and front gate bathed in bright light. His other assistant wardens were down below with Ruvuma’s troops, making sure all the other prisoners were accounted for. The listed targets were being kept in one location he, Jorge nor any of the other wardens knew.

During the War, the Vamps and the Carni were dropped right in the center of the Belt, directly behind enemy lines. He never got to see them. Their paths had never crossed. Being an elite unit of space marines, they never would have. Shortly before he left military service, stories were told of creatures who moved with the night and beasts that ate human flesh. He’d put all that down to fried brains from drug abuse and PTSD. The stories persisted, though. The Imperial Government announced the situation had returned to normal; the rebels had been dealt with and would no longer be the source of needless unrest within the Empire. After the war, he decided it was time to hang up his sword and gun. He left the armed forces and moved around quite a bit before applying for the job as Chief Warden on Basongo.

As the years went by, the stories of monsters became more bizarre. News was coming out of some of the Outer Planets about blood-sucking cults and human sacrifices. He ignored those as well. It was one bullshit story after the other, and he tired of hearing them. The Outer Planets were backward, less civilized compared to the Inner Planets, hundreds of forest worlds that were still stuck in pre-industrial eras. If anything out of the ordinary like blood-sucking cults and other such nonsense were going to happen anywhere, it would be on the Outer Planets. Superstition of any kind could not have a better home.

“Hey Vinny, look!” Jorge stood right in front of the window, staring out at the night sky, hands pressed right up to the glass.

“There’re clouds forming! Rain clouds!” he cried in surprise.

Vinny stepped forward, not believing his eyes. Large, nimbostratus clouds gathered on the horizon, directly above the forested hill region to the east. Lightning flashed, streaking down in sharp zig-zags. Rolls of thunder sent little chattering vibrations down the length of the shelves in the room, a strong wind on the rise. It tore through the trees violently, swaying them to and fro. They reminded Vinny of local girls down at some of the clubs he’d frequent during his soldier days doing some seductive dance. Leaves fell to the ground like oversized confetti, only to be picked up and tossed around in small, tight swirls. Mobile flash units toppled over, dragged unwillingly across the concrete ground, sparks flying from the friction. Troops rushed around to secure the bases of the mobile units, some of which had their glasses shattered, pieces falling out in large sections. They flickered, bursting into tiny flames before going out completely. Vicious bursts of lightning struck several Pyro ships, and they exploded into huge fireballs, plummeting to the earth like fiery chariots, crash landing in the murky trees below.

“What in Basongo is all this?” Jorge said. Vinny noted the panic in his voice. “We don’t have storms like this here! It’s the Vamps! It has to be!”

Vinny wasn’t going to say anything to dispute that. Jorge was right again. The lights overhead went out momentarily and then came back on.

“The weather’s messing with the power generation,” Vinny said. ‘It’s one hell of a storm.”

Another loud thunderclap peeled through the heavens, this one jostling the teacups in the tray on the table behind them. The sky darkened further, the rain starting to fall, huge round drops, loud, hard and heavy against the six-inch blast glass observation window.

“What do we do?” Jorge asked.

“What do we do?” Vinny said, a puzzled look on his face. “We stay right here like Ruvuma told us. That is what we do, Jorge.”

At that very moment, the lights went out again, plunging the room into a desolate gloom. As the seconds passed, both men waiting anxiously for the power to return, the realization dawned on them slowly that it would not be doing that anytime soon.

“What the hell?!”

“No cussing Jorge,” Vinny said. Lightning flashed in the huge cloud base outside; the light from the remaining functional mobile units bathed the office in a soft glow. Jorge sank to the floor beneath the window.

“At least this way nothing can sneak up on me,” he said. One of the guards from the outer room came through the door, a flashlight in his hands.

“Are you okay Sirs?” he asked.

“We’re okay,” Vinny said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Storms probably outted the entire energy grid. We should have it up and running in no time.” He went back out, leaving them with the flashlight.

“He has no idea what he’s talking about,” Jorge said. “The auxiliary power hasn’t kicked in yet. It should have by now.”

Ruvuma had insisted they maintain radio silence unless strictly necessary. She would contact them. Since they were not patched into the military’s main communication network, they had no way of knowing anything else about the situation, other than what they were seeing and hearing. Ruvuma said the Vamps might be listening in. If the Vamps’ plan to acquire their targets failed, they would grab the warden of the prison, get him to tell them what they wanted to know.

Fortunately, he didn’t know anything.

Another clap of thunder and the room trembled. Outside the wind gathered speed, its intensity increasing in direct proportion to the rain. Vinny watched the entire storm in awe. He had been on Basongo for just under three years and had never seen so much rain.

Suddenly all the mobile flash units went out simultaneously, the whole courtyard thrown into a pitch-black so deep and pervasive it looked like one could reach out and touch it. Shouts and bursts of tracer fire erupted throughout the dark. Mines planted in the buffer zone beyond the prison fence went off, their vibrations passing through the walls and floor. More automatic fire split the darkness. The shouts now morphed into screams.

“They’re here!” someone yelled. Vinny grabbed the flashlight where it lay on its side on a shelf and switched it off.

“Vinny!” cried Jorge, sitting plastered against the wall, his hands held out at his side. He stood motionless like a storefront mannequin, the colour completely drained from his skin and his face locked in a tight grimace.

“Jorge, take a deep breath and remain calm,” Vinny said. “We stay put until we’re told otherwise. You and I both know this is the most secure room on this floor, which is why we came up here in the first place.”

The automatic gunfire intensified, the corona’s amplified by the darkness, tearing through the night air like ethereal fireflies. Vinny noticed it moved into the general area of the facility, the shouts more distant and muffled, the only conclusion the troops had now moved into the main building.

The Vamps had successfully breached their outer defenses and actively sought out their targets. He eyed the door, walked over slowly, and opened it a crack. The guards still stood at their posts, tense and alert. All they could do was wait it out. There were escape tunnels only he knew about located throughout the building. He hoped it didn’t come to that.

The rain continued to fall in heavy, relentless sheets. Tremours caused by the thunder and exploding mines continued to pass through the building at irregular intervals. He convinced Jorge to move away from where he sat bunched like a frightened child. They sat on the floor, huddled against another wall, the window lit up every few seconds by lightning and more explosions.

After what seemed an eternity, in reality less than an hour, the battle began to die down. Angry, isolated shouts and gunfire rang out across the courtyard. Vinny bounced to his feet and rushed to the window. The storm dissipated, replaced with a gentle, light drizzle. The mobile units came back online but a good number had been destroyed by the exploding mines and the ensuing fire-fight. De-mining drones and droids already removed the unexploded ordnance, picking up the rest of the mechanical debris that littered the area. The bright flashes in the forest beyond told Vinny that the military moved in pursuit of whatever had come and gone.

“Is it over?” Jorge called, beads of sweat pouring down both temples. “Are they gone? What do you see?”

“Not much. And yes, it’s over,” Vinny said. A buzzing sound came from the ceiling above. He looked up as the lights flickered to life. A slight tap on the door followed. Vinny moved his body around, glancing at Jorge, his muscles tensing up. Vinny held a finger to his lips. Jorge said nothing, remaining on the floor.

“Sirs, are you there?” It was the guard. Jorge let out a deep breath, visibly relieved, rising to his feet slowly.

“We’re alright,” Vinny called, rushing to unlock the door.

“Lieutenant Ruvuma has asked I bring you to the main holding cells,” the guard said quickly. Vinny glanced down at the guard’s weapon and noticed the safety light was off.

“How are things over there?” Vinny asked, already positive what the answer to his question might be.

“Very bad, Sir,” the guard replied. The answer came as no surprise. He had expected nothing less.

* * *

The main holding area was located three floors below surface. Smoke billowed out of a huge crater in the middle of the floor. An opening with similar dimensions had been made in the ceiling. Vinny approached the edge of the crater cautiously, peering through the inky smoke. He wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell of burnt plastic. The edges had melted like wax, extreme heat causing the cement to form crude, shiny sap-like pebble-sized chunks that clung to the sides of the crater wall like drops of dew on morning grass. He squinted his eyes, still shielding his nose from the pungent smell riding on the pillars of smoke working their way to the new skylight overhead. Something lay on the bottom, but there was too much shadow in the crater to tell what it was.

“You should have been here Warden,” Ruvuma approached from his right. He watched her through slanted eyes. She looked tired, her armour covered with dents and small chinks but still intact.

“Our uninvited guests disappeared into thin air, I take it?” he said.

“Literally. Those bloodsuckers were better today than they’ve ever been,” she said.

“It almost sounds like you admire them.”

“You were a soldier, you understand,” she said.

He did.

“They came through the trees after the storm broke,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “At around the same time, the power went out. They scattered rocks around the buffer zone, setting off some of the mines, then teleported into the courtyard beyond the fence. They teleported all over the place, targeting troop positions. Their main area of concentration was the corridor leading up from the main courtyard to the entrance of the east wing. They bogged us down in a fire-fight here. The holes you’re seeing are the result of a bomb charge they laid when they reached this section. They never used it though, that was set off by a stray bullet from one of our own.” Ruvuma stood beside him, now also staring down into the smoldering crater.

“They created a diversion,” Vinny said.

“They did. They had us under intense stun bursts for over fifteen minutes, taking us out one by one and teleporting the whole time. It’s hard enough to aim and fire at a moving target. Add one that pops in and out of thin air and any shot fired is wasted ammo,” she said.

“We had the targets in the opposite wing, but it was only a matter of time before the Vamps found out exactly where we were holding them. When that happened, they picked them off in their usual style. Snatched them right out from under our noses. We stood little chance. All this was inevitable, all of it has happened before. We just need to assess the damage.”

“How many men did they make off with?” Jorge asked. Vinny had almost forgotten he was there, standing behind him, surprisingly looking very relaxed.

“Half the list,” Ruvuma said. She didn’t appear too happy with that fact. Vinny decided not to push and let it go instead.

“What stopped them from getting everyone?” Jorge asked.

“Who knows?” she answered. “One minute they’re there, next minute they’ve disappeared, taking their kidnapped with them.” Vinny knew she was lying but decided to let that go as well. She’d just emerged from a fire-fight with mutant space marines. Her present good mood would only go so far.

“Your assistant wardens have been a big help in keeping tabs on the other prisoners, but you both keep the original complete list. We need to check that. The Vamps might have fallen back on their back-up plan, so we need to know who is here and who is not,” Ruvuma said.

“Sure thing,” Vinny said. “Do you expect them to come back?”

Ruvuma was quiet for a few seconds, her eyes shifting back to the hole in the ceiling. Cleaning droids already worked to sweep up the debris and mark areas for general repairs.

“They might. I can’t say for certain. Mavurama’s crew is full of surprises and today was ample proof of that.” Vinny looked at her and wondered how much more the Captain chose not to tell them. He hadn’t forgotten what it meant to be a soldier. You had orders, you followed those orders. The same kind of thinking governed the way the prison system ran.

“Let’s take a look at that list, Captain,” Vinny said.

* * *

“You think she’ll be back?” Jorge asked. “The Captain, I mean? She’s awfully pretty.”

Vinny raised his glass, spilling a few drops in the process.

“Ha ha! That she is and good at what she does. We didn’t get a scratch on us, and neither did anyone else.”

“That was partly due to the Vamps too, let’s not forget. They didn’t come here to kill anyone. All they want is blood,” Jorge said.

“You do realize how that sounds, don’t you?’ Vinny said. He sipped at his whiskey slowly. They were in Vinny’s quarters, a bottle of hard mountain whiskey on the table between them. Jorge slumped back against the chair, his legs splayed out in front of him like a drunken starfish, his own glass of whiskey balanced gingerly on his stomach.

“You get my meaning, that’s what’s important,” he said, his words sluggish.

“That I do,” Vinny said. “And to answer your question, no, I don’t think she’s coming back. If she were, she wouldn’t have left a small contingent and all those planes. Some vamps might try to come back to pick up the targets they left behind. Mavurama pulled a stunt like that on his first raid. That must have been really something, going back after you’ve just blown the shit out of a place. They never saw it coming. Mavurama took full advantage of that and got every single last one of his targets. I can see why she admires the guy.”

“Even if he is a vampire?” Jorge said.

“Even if,” Vinny said. ‘You know women. Weird shit always attracts them. She knows where he’s going next, which is why she was in such a hurry to get out of here. She’s still trying to figure out this guy’s game plan, she hasn’t nailed it down yet, even though that’s what she had us believe. Remember, she said today surprised her.” Vinny sipped at his drink again, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Would have loved to see one of those vamps up close and personal though,” he went on.

“Why?” Jorge asked, the sheepish look on his face growing deeper.

“Because they’re fighters and this bunch doesn’t fight dirty. Too many punks out there who do. Have some of them right here,” he said, pointing at the ground.

“Would you want to be a vampire?” Jorge asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because blood grosses me out.”

“But if you were a vampire it wouldn’t.”

“And if I were an E.T. I would have a warp drive.” Jorge said nothing, looking at Vinny, Vinny looking back at him. They both burst out laughing.

6

FORT RIONGA, HANU, PLANET GAIA

“The Mapping-Drones have detected a network of burrows underneath the Muimba Dam, a few kilometres from the clearing,” Lieutenant Uvinza said. A large map was spread out across the light table, key points flashing in red circles.

“The same clearing you mentioned might be a space pad?” Captain Tuli asked.

“Yes, Madame,” she answered.

“Did the Watch-Droid pick up any aerial activity in the area?” Captain Mendia asked. He was Captain Tuli’s Second-In-Command.

“No, sir, it didn’t,” replied Rink. “Our satellites didn’t pick up anything either. It could be our presence in the area prevented them from making any flights in or out. Our intel suggests that their burrow networks are how they move a great deal of cargo. They provide adequate, prolonged cover and are extremely hard to detect.”

“Any ideas as to why that might be?” asked Tuli. “That we can find some burrows and not others? Strictly speaking, they are simply elaborate holes in the ground.”

“We still aren’t sure; we’ve never been able to go down into any of the burrows to investigate,” Rink said. “It could be they use some kind of masking technique. Looking back at several of the aerial maps where we initially detected networks, parts of some them appear as fuzzy lines that are unreadable by our machines. We can’t say for certain that those fuzzy lines are indeed burrows because the same fuzzy lines could be anything from rock strata to underground streams or animal remains.”

“This use of tech by the Carni has me worried,” Tuli said, frowning. “They haven’t started using firearms, but what happens when they do get around to that? Things could turn messy. They’re evolving.”

“During our last encounter with them on Void Range, we didn’t see any significant changes. It’s the same brute strength we’ve seen over and over again all over the planet,” replied Uvinza.

“Yet you think they might have access to an aerial vehicle,” Tuli said. “How do you explain that?”

“I honestly can’t Madame,” Uvinza said. Tuli turned to Rink.

“Lieutenant, any ideas?”

“Their present cerebral evolution seems to be stress-induced. The Vamps taught them how to operate handheld grenade launchers during the Old War, so even then they were capable of grasping certain complex instructions. We know it’s a latent survival feature, hardwired into their DNA. It came out during the Belt Wars, it's coming out now. They’re responding accordingly to external stimuli.”

“Holy shit,” Tuli said. “And we’re the ones providing it.”

“Yes sir, Madame,” Rink said. “Unfortunately.”

“How extensive is this network?” asked Mendia.

“It radiates out to about twenty kilometres in all directions,” Uvinza said. Mendia whistled.

“That’s a lot of tunnels,” he said, Captain Tuli nodding in agreement.

“What are they using to dig them out?” Mendia asked.

“Impossible to tell,” Uvinza said, a frustrated look on her face.

“Is this the one you’ve been looking for Lieutenant Uvinza?” asked Tuli.

“I strongly believe it might be Madame.” Uvinza placed a finger on the map. ‘This network in issue is very different from the others. The area to the north appears as a huge, fuzzy mass of squiggly lines. This anomaly could be the lead we’ve been looking for. We think this is where the Carni have their main base of operation. It’s the largest burrow network we’ve ever seen.”

“You think you’ll find the leader of the pack there?” Tuli asked, looking directly into Uvinza’s eyes.

“Yes, Madame, I do,” she answered.

“Well you seem sure enough of yourself,” Tuli said.

“We’ve never confirmed that the Carni actually have leaders,” Mendia said. “What makes you think you’ll finally meet one? They were always foot soldiers, under the command of the Vamps. During the entire Belt War, they never demonstrated any leadership skills or ability to organize themselves into an independent fighting unit. They weren’t built that way.”

“All the current evidence suggests they’ve moved beyond that Sir,” Rink answered. “When they left Dumeron, they were still under the command of the Vamps. But the Carni needed human meat to survive, the Vamps needed fresh human blood. The only way the Vamps could have a steady supply was if they kept their human hosts alive. The situation was unsustainable with the two groups having separate needs but from the same source. Most of the Carni were dumped on planets with large game reserves like this one, under the orders of Mavurama. It helped ease the situation for the Vamps. They’ve been able to run around the galaxy in star-ships, while the Carni have been forced to make a stand on terrestrial planes. I believe the Carni intellectual evolution has been as a direct result of the difficult situation they’ve found themselves in. From the organization of the networks, the storage units all over the planet, it would be safe to assume that they have pack leaders for all these different cells, organizing their food supplies and the construction of these underground caves. It’s been consistent planet-wide and would be impossible without some form of coherent structure, something they would have learned from Mavurama.”

“What’s not to say the leader is still a Vamp and the Carni are still the same dull, old killing machines they were during the war and after?” Mendia asked.

‘That could be a possibility, but taking into account the history between the two groups, it seems highly improbable,” Rink said.

“But not impossible,” Mendia insisted.

“No, Sir,” Rink went on. ‘The Vamp Task Force has it on record that most remaining vamp groups have given up doing dirty. On all our missions, we’ve never come across Stasis-Chambers. Fresh blood is a must for vamps, and you’re not going to get that without a Stasis-Chamber. If we do proceed with the assumption that the Vamps might be donning their traditional roles of leaders of the Carni, we have to assume the Carni are totally dependent on the Vamps for their survival. We haven’t found one single Vamp during our time out here and with the absence of Stasis-Chambers, it’s hard to think how a vamp leading these Carni would be possible.”

“The Vamps are smart sons of bitches, Lieutenant,” Tuli said. “It’s not for nothing we’ve spent the past five years hunting them down. However, I agree with your conclusions. Things ended very badly between the Vamps and the Carni. I doubt a Vamp, no matter how they might have redeemed themselves in the eyes of the Carni, is leading these networks. Any other observations?”

“We’ve never found any living quarters or anything else like that to give the impression that these networks are permanent structures,” Uvinza said. “I think this intricate mesh of fuzzy lines on the map is where they are holed up. This is the place where they lie down, where they go out from, command central. Ground zero.”

Tuli and Mendia exchanged quick glances, both of them smiling.

“That’s excellent, Officers,” Tuli said. ‘Your analysis is well thought out, thorough, and holds up against everything we know about these animals. What’s your suggestion?”

“We need to get inside. It will help us understand how they’ve managed to evade us for so long,” Uvinza said. “We dare not go in with bunk busters, we need the structure intact. I think we use the exo-suits. The Carni prefer to use their hands most times, their razor-sharp claws are as good as army knives. The Exo-suits are the only things that will level the playing field.”

“Fine,” Tuli said, liking Uvinza’s logical assessment. “Let’s get to work then Lieutenants.”

Uvinza and Rink saluted and left the War Room.

“All this talk of meat and meat-eaters makes me think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go vegetarian,” Mendia said, a file in his hands.

“They could be on to something though. The Carni are definitely getting smarter,” he held up the file. Tuli stared at it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A police report from three nights ago, a small town called Bayo, that’s several hundred miles from here. Missing mining equipment from Area 13.” He opened it out and began reading.

“On or around the 25th day of the Month of Augustus, at around two o’clock in the morning, Colin Baum, a guard at Mineral Mines Extract, heard a noise coming from the machine compound. He went to see what was causing said noise and upon entering the enclosure, observed six seven-foot people or things attempting to move an EM Model 8769 diamond-tip Earth-grinder through a hole in the fence. When he inquired as to what they thought they were doing, a seventh figure stepped out of the shadows and approached him, snarling like a wild animal.” Mendia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “He ran for his life, fleeing the scene, stopping after a while to make a phone call to the local police.”

“By the time the police arrived, the machine was gone, nothing but a set of footprints leading into the forest around the facility. There were no track marks, so it was concluded that the machine must have been airlifted out of the enclosure.”

“Air-lifted, my ass,” Tuli said, studying the map on the light table. “Mr. Baum was lucky they weren’t looking for a midnight snack. No sane person would believe any number of people could carry that thing out, which is exactly what the Carni did.”

“There’s a side note here that says: ‘Recovered foot-prints were large and unusual,’” Mendia said, removing his glasses, giving his eyes a gentle rub. “This is not the first report of stolen items,” he continued, walking around the light table. “Items from local communities have gone missing for months. Uvinza’s theory that there might be a permanent settlement in that forest is making a lot of sense. It’s the only reason they’d choose to steal some of this stuff in the first place. Most of the other networks discovered around the planet are conveniently placed under game reserves. Impossible to bunk-buster since game reserves are protected areas and a source of revenue for the local economies.”

“Rink is right again about these things getting smarter as the years go by. It may not be happening across the board, which would explain the discrepancies in behavior by the various groups,” Tuli said. “This structure in the forest might give us the answers we need. I would hate to think how this secret war of ours would turn on its head if these things got their hands on smart weapons.”

7

SAGARA AIR BASE, PLANET RUTOPE

Captain J. Ruvuma waited like she always did when she came to see the General. General Namoto was not in yet. She saw no sign of her report on the Basongo Incident on his desk. Meaning wherever he was, he had it with him. His personal assistant told her to wait in his office. The General would be with her shortly.

That had been fifteen minutes ago, but she could wait. She wouldn’t be going anywhere unless the General said so. He pointed to a star chart, put his finger on a spot, and said, “You go.” And she asked, “When?”

She didn’t mind. General Namoto had let her pursue the Vamps in the way she felt best. She had tracked down half of the initial group when it numbered almost twenty thousand, in the days shortly after the Nami’s Unilateral Declaration of Independence. Her track-record earned her the right to command her own ship and crew in tracking down the Vamps, although she was not officially an Admiral. The necessity of the situation dictated her personal circumstances. For all intents and purposes, the Vamps and the Carni were not supposed to exist. Her mission was classified, although hiding the truth was not always easy to do.

When the Vamps jumped into deep space, the idea was to split into several teams and go after them all at once. That hadn’t worked out very well. The Vamps had fought a secret war, and their fighting methods had not been well known. Ruvuma developed a knack for tracking and eventually taking them down. That earned her the attention of the brass at the Hill and the mission had been consolidated with her at the helm. They hunted the splinter groups down one by one, most of them poorly organized and reduced to plundering and murder. The Vamps were used to terrestrial war, not space war. That led to their eventual demise.

Then there was Mavurama.

Mavurama.

She smiled to herself. The one who always got away. In the beginning, there’d been reports of a large Vamp group organizing itself under the leadership of a vamp they had never encountered before. As the hunt across the stars for the Vamps intensified, the rumors became stronger. Their raids on underground hideouts turned up empty rooms and abandoned shelters. The Vamps were on the run, but the Intel didn’t indicate where to.

It was finally confirmed that a huge vampire and Carni cluster had set up shop in a mountain castle on the planet Dumeron. Air surveillance suggested the structure was big enough to house the numbers they were looking for. She remembered going down to the planet surface, surrounding the castle and preparing for a final assault, when things had taken a life of their own. The Vamps attacked, but in a way that was more organized and determined than before. There were no fatalities that day, which came as another big surprise. The Vamps escaped in huge star-ships hidden from surveillance satellites within the mountain. That incident instigated a long and challenging game of hide and seek across solar systems, star-clusters, planet groupings, and planet continents.

The other remaining vampire groups were nothing more than brigands, killers, and thieves. Mavurama, on the other hand, was not like the other vampire leaders. His group proved to be the exception. He was a military leader and strategist she had come to admire. She never admitted it, but it sometimes let slip, as it had earlier on Basongo. The last photo they had of him was one taken at the beginning of the second war. It was unlikely he had changed much in appearance. Vampires aged slowly. Mavurama had managed to successfully convert his terrestrial fighters into hardcore space-marines. She remembered how angry the General had been, cursing the Emperor in every language he knew. The whole exercise had given the Vamps ample opportunity to evolve their skill sets, which were the main reason they had been earmarked by the suits on the Hill for extermination. She laughed, forgetting for a brief moment where she was.

“Share the joke, Captain,” General Namoto said. He had entered the room without her hearing. She bounced to her feet, straightened her back and saluted.

“At ease, Captain,” he said. She saw the report in his hand; he threw it on his desk and sat down, motioning for her to do the same.

“A thorough and interesting report, Captain,” he said. He had recently shaved, and the smell of aftershave still lingered.

“I need clarification on a few points that I’ve taken the liberty to mentally highlight,” he said. His brown eyes were alert, attentive; Ruvuma knew she would have to be just as sharp. He was in his usual ‘don’t-bullshit-with-me’ mood.

“First thing I would like to know is how they made the planet surface? We know they don’t have smaller craft to take them terrestrial. We know that they don’t use parachutes. So how do they get down to the surface? And more importantly, how do they get back up to their transport ship?”

“We believe they teleport,” she said. General Namoto stared at her.

“In freefall Captain?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I was under the impression that, at least in theory, teleporting from one point to another requires the object doing the teleporting to be stationary and to see exactly where it is going. We can assume the base ship is stationary, but as soon as they jump, they’re like stones. If they were teleporting in free fall, they would be falling at terrific speeds, with nothing to slow their descent. Is that even possible?” General Namoto said.

“We think they might have been practicing and getting better, calculating the distance between their launching platform and the ground and working out how many jumps it would take to get them to the surface. Quite ingenious when you think about it.”

“Is that admiration I detect in your voice, Captain?” General Namoto asked.

“No, Sir,” she said quickly.

“Your report says that they made off with their targets. Didn’t you fortify the facility, use intense lighting, mine the buffer zone? How did they get through, despite all these measures you took? You had over two thousand troops at Asylum, Captain.”

Ruvuma knew he had given the report a thorough read. He just wanted to hear the words come out of her mouth. To look in her eyes when she said them. He always said words on paper could lie, but people were a whole different story altogether.

“The explanation for that is in my report too, Sir,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, looking down at the report in front of him. ‘You explain the storm which, according to you, appeared out of nowhere.’

“The wardens at Asylum all state that those were peculiar weather conditions for any time of year,” Ruvuma said. “We corroborated this with weather data from the Asylum information database. Basongo does not experience those kinds of weather patterns.”

“And you conclude the Vamps were behind the freak storm?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ruvuma said.

“You sound sure of your statement, Captain,” General Namoto said. “You care to elaborate?”

“The storm started shortly before the assault began. It took out the perimeter lights, a few Pyro-Ships, the main generator as well as the auxiliary power source. Both the storm and blackout ended soon after the assault was over and the Vamps had made it back to their base ship. That was too much of a coincidence. It may be a new power we haven’t seen before. There is literature to suggest that Vampires were capable, at least in mythology, of manipulating weather conditions,” she said. The General turned to the wall on his left, a cabinet full of model star-ships running from top to bottom. He stared at it, the look of a man lost in some thought he was reluctant to share on his face. Ruvuma waited for him to say something.

“I hate to have to admit it, but there is some basis for your theory,” General Namoto said finally. “The whole aim of the Deus Project was to create soldiers, demigods if you will. The Vamps were genetically engineered to access a set of latent powers if the need ever arose. The decision to do that was scrapped, fortunately.”

“Rainmakers!” General Namoto banged a clenched fist on the polished wooden tabletop, the vibrations shaking the objects decorating it. “It seems they found a way to unlock that from their genetic coding.”

“They used this new power with deadly effect, which means they’ve been able to harmonize it with their older skill set, the tactics picked during the Old War,” Ruvuma said. “We can’t be sure how far this thing goes, how many possess it, and whether or not the other vampire splinter groups have the same ability.”

“They’re evolving. The question is into what?” General Namoto said.

“Only time will tell,” Ruvuma answered. General Namoto said nothing, turning the file pages back and forth, a look of quiet frustration etched into his face.

“After the assault, how did they transport their cargoes back up to their base ship?” he asked. Ruvuma had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

“We believe they teleport to a set of pre-determined coordinates, Sir.”

“My question was how do they teleport back to their base ship? You have stated their main ship, under no circumstances whatsoever, enters the planet’s atmosphere. You pin the location of that ship to somewhere undisclosed halfway around the planet. If that is the case, how did they manage to get back up with half the items on their shopping list, Captain?”

Ruvuma cleared her throat.

“Their teleportation in and out of time and space is marked by tiny, fist-sized bursts of blue light. During our last run-in with the Vamps on Renda, we observed tiny bursts moving in a zig-zag line, from the ground right up into the exosphere. It almost looks like a lightning flash in reverse. We weren’t sure what they were at first, so we sifted through some of the classified documents on the Belt Wars. The tiny bursts of blue are the Vamps heading back up through the atmosphere.’

General Namoto stared at her, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

“Are you telling me they teleport right up from the ground? Break free from planetary gravity, with the added weight of their packages, riding along in about the same length of time as a lightning strike?!”

“Yes, Sir,” Ruvuma said. “Almost as fast as lightning flashes. Because they appear so quickly, at random points, it’s nearly impossible to stop them. When we raided their last terrestrial hideout on Renda, we found exo-suits, the type used for high altitude combat training. It’s safe to assume they use the same suits when traveling back up to their transport ship.”

General Namoto closed his eyes, teeth clenched. His nostrils flared for a few seconds, and then he opened his eyes slowly.

“You mentioned here that you tagged some of the prisoners with trackers. What do you hope to achieve by doing that? I mean, even if you do track them down to their exact location, this group of Vamps has proved that they are more than capable of getting out of tight spots. They’ll just jump to some other star system and wait for you to find them again,” he said. His eyes burned with silent indignation.

“We can’t ever hope to win in a fight against Mavurama’s group. They are the most highly trained groups either of us have ever seen,” she replied.

“Hmmph,” General Namoto grunted.

“We need to change our approach, and the freak storm stresses the point even more so. It has given them an added advantage we may never overcome. The only way around this, is to engage them in a way that prevents them from feeling the need to come together. They take their strength from their organized numbers. We need to drive a wedge in between them, weaken their power base. The earlier vampire groups didn’t understand the importance of an organized structure. This lack of understanding makes the present ones that follow the same path just as easy to annihilate. Mavurama’s thinking is different. We need to get up close and personal to his people.”

“Five years and these things are still kicking our asses. I’m interested to hear how you now plan on altering the tide of this war in our favour,” Commander Namoto leaned forward, his face softening slightly.

Ruvuma cleared her throat again, smiling nervously.

“You may not like what I suggest, Sir,” she said, watching the General’s stony expression closely.

His smile was cheerless, his eyes brightening so quickly, Ruvuma’s mouth almost dropped open. Like the sun bursting out from behind dark clouds after the rain had stopped.

He leaned back in his chair, the cold smile still on his face.

“Try me,” he said.

8

VIGO STAR SYSTEM

Lieutenant Chikondi Saito awoke, her alarm buzzing and vibrating across the shelf above the headboard. Time to get up, whether she liked it or not. She yawned, stretched, and looked at her watch. It read just after six a.m. The Commander wanted to see her and the other officers ASAP. He would be meeting all of them in small groups during the day, wanting to know first-hand how the mission on Basongo had unfolded. He was that thorough, just one of the things that made him a great commander. During the war, he had been a Captain, like the rest of them. But during the escape from the Belts, they all needed a central figure who they could look up to. Mavurama had naturally stepped into that role. She and the other officers from the faltering splinter groups from the resistance on Dumeron had followed him ever since. No one was forced to stay, but Mavurama proved time and time again he was more than an able leader. Definitely not like the other jerk-offs, self-declared leaders rising out of the aftermath. He wasn’t a punk either, not like her former commanding officer, which was an added bonus.

She sat up in her bunk, drawing back her curtain. The others dragged themselves out of their beds as well, most of them still looking fatigued. The mission had been hard; running low on blood supplies, it had worn them out thoroughly. Getting down to the surface was rough enough, but it was getting back up that was a real bitch. Teleporting twice your weight, against the pull of a planetary body was no easy task. Some had failed to complete the trip, requiring assistance back. Once onboard, the prisoners were put in stasis, the ships blood banks already being replenished. They had received their post-mission rations. Not enough to get them back to full strength, but no one complained. A few more hours, and there would be more than enough blood rations to meet their daily requirements.

She got dressed and made her way down to the mess hall with the others. She ate quickly. Hers would be the first group to deliver their report to Mavurama.

Chikondi waited in the ship’s War Chamber, feeling slightly better after her breakfast. Darius approached her, looking just as tired as everyone else, but he still managed a smile.

“You look like shit, Captain,” she said.

“It’s the new look currently in vogue,” he said laughing. “You don’t look too hot yourself.”

“True and the same goes for everybody else,” she answered.

“As fun as all that was, I really hope it’s a long time before we have to do that again,” he said.

“Agreed.” There were sharp hisses as the doors on the far left opened. Mavurama and his second in command walked in, followed by his communications officer. As Chikondi looked at Pang, it was difficult to believe Pang had once been one of the most decorated soldiers on the front line, with more kills than anyone else in her fire-team. She hadn’t been on any field mission since their departure from Dumeron. Apart from being highly skilled with a samurai and dagger, she was also extremely gifted with computers, which is why Mavurama insisted she be his communications officer. She looked comfortable enough with that responsibility, Chikondi thought.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry to get you out of your beds so soon, but time is not a luxury we can afford at the moment. The Imperial Army will be in pursuit soon enough, and we need to figure out our next course of action. Captains Conte and Saito, you were the first ones down there. Please report.”

“Captain Ruvuma has upped her game. She had more than one hundred mobile light units on the ground, with Pyro-Ships in the air. They lit the place up brighter than a supernova. If we hadn’t gotten the storm going, it would have been an unpleasant experience getting past their outer corridor,” Darius said.

“She had the corridor mined as well. In all the confusion that ensued with the rain and wind, we created a pathway through that corridor and took out the troops on the inner fence. Once we did that, it was easier for the others to teleport in,” Chikondi added.

“Ruvuma has also figured out our criteria for selecting targets,” said a Lieutenant called Mereka. “She had all the prisoners on our list holed up in the west wing of the building. Getting in was easy enough, it was getting out that wasn’t so smooth.”

“The diversion we created in the east wing helped, but Ruvuma had three-quarters of her troops protecting the targets,” another Lieutenant by the name of Malani said.

The other officers gave their reports. Mavurama simply listened, nodding his head at intervals. After thirty minutes, they finished. Chikondi looked at Mavurama, who said something to Pang. He turned back to the gathering.

“Thank you very much Officers,” he said. “I have just been informed that the first batch of blood-wine has been processed from the Stasis-Chamber and is ready for consumption. You’ve earned it. I thank you all for a job well done.”

“What do you think he’s going to decide after all the reports are in?” Darius asked. They filed out of the room with the others, the next group entering through another door.

“Hard to say. Ruvuma is becoming as sly and cunning as Mavurama. The boss might have met his match,” Chikondi answered. “I hope we don’t have to see her for a while, but knowing how persistent she is…if I didn’t know any better, I would swear that woman was a machine.”

“Well, good thing she isn’t,” Darius said. “Which means we get to enjoy our first decent blood meal for months in relative peace.”

“In relative peace,” Chikondi said with a dreamy grin. “I’ll drink to that,”

* * *

Mavurama moved his wine glass back and forth. The blood swirled around, leaving marks on the sides that drew back to the bottom of the glass. This was his first full cup, and there would be plenty more before the day was over. Pang sat on the opposite side of the table, nursing her own glass.

“Is everything alright, Sir?” she asked.

“Yes, just thinking that’s all,” he answered.

“Anything in particular?”

Mavurama laughed softly. He took another sip from his wine glass.

“We risked life and limb for blood. Isn’t that ironic? We value it so much that we were willing to go into a situation with the odds stacked against us. All for a thousand litres of blood.”

“Blood is everything, Sir,” Pang answered. “Without it, we are nothing.”

“That almost sounds philosophical Pang. It still makes me dizzy to think how much blood there was for the taking in the War. It seemed impossible we would ever reach the day when we actually ran out of the stuff,” he took another sip of his wine glass, savouring the taste. A drop trickled down the side of his mouth. He wiped it away with a napkin, staring down at the red stain, stark against the white cloth.

“This is only a temporary measure,” he said. “At the rate we’ll be draining these bodies, we’ll need more soon.”

“At present, we have enough to last us six months,” Pang said. “That time frame may shorten, depending on how often Ruvuma decides to try and take us down.”

“She’ll find us eventually, but I think it won’t be for a while. It was one hell of a suggestion to disable the jump-drives on her ships. I wish I’d seen her face when she discovered that,” Mavurama giggled, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“We can’t keep on running forever,” he went on, the smile fading. “The way I see it, we’re left with two options. Either get far enough from the Emperor’s reach and hope we can find a planet where we can settle and live out the rest of our days in peace. Or make a stand and die fighting.”

“Live and fight or die trying,” Pang held up her glass; Mavurama clinked his against hers and they both drained their glasses. He reached for the wine bottle on the table, refilling their glasses. He stared at his drink. It wasn’t pure blood, only about sixty percent was. The rest was a mixture of vitamins and herbs. With their recent acquisition being prisoners, it meant the blood had to be completely cleansed before it was suitable for consumption. Fortunately, their cleansing process was thorough. The last thing Mavurama needed was incurable blood diseases. In the early years, the tendency was to simply draw blood straight from a living body. This was known as ‘doing dirty.’ Problems developed among the Vamps; unprocessed blood was not a healthy option. The scientists back at Eboracum eventually developed a system of blood purification that became the standard procedure before consumption. When the insurrection started, and the Vamps went on the run, a lot of the splintered groups couldn’t access the blood purification tech. Forced to do dirty, a lot of them became weak, sickened, and vulnerable, making it easier for them to be hunted down and killed.

Mavurama licked his lips. That was not how they were going down. He could already feel his strength returning. Whatever Ruvuma threw at them next, they would be more than ready. They had pulled off one of their toughest missions yet, with barely enough blood rations to last a day and yet there they were. All in one piece, mission accomplished, drinking and enjoying the spoils of war.

He heard how they were described in the Outer Planets. The Imperial government had not been able to completely hide the truth of their existence. To the few aware of their existence, they were known as the Nosferatu, devils of the night. He didn’t know too much about the devil, but he knew a lot about the night. He knew they wouldn’t pass into it quietly.

“We need to find a place to lay low,” Mavurama said. “And keep a watch out for our dear friend Ruvuma.”

“Already on it, Sir,” Pang said. “I have the navigation team scouting the surrounding star system for suitable, habitable planetary bodies.”

“Ruvuma will shift her attention to the other remaining splinter groups, so that will give us some breathing space,” Mavurama said sheepishly. The blood-wine made him drowsy. They would all fall asleep eventually, a direct consequence of replenishing. He would wake up feeling ‘born-again,’ the fatigue and toxins gone, his mind much more alert than it was now. Mavurama smiled at Pang, and Pang smiled back.

“Drink up, Captain!” he said. “There’s plenty more where this came from. A lot more!”

9

MAKWANYANI, MUZU DISTRICT, PLANET GAIA

The water he splashed onto his face was ice-cold, cutting into his skin like razor-sharp icicles. The drops ran down his beard, falling back into the sink, where they formed small, coin-sized ripples.

Samuel Tale stared hard at his reflection. He still felt tired. He hadn’t slept much the previous night, and his body still felt the effects. He was more than tempted to go back to bed. Then he remembered a preacher from his childhood admonishing that poverty crept up on lazy men while they slept. He went back into the bedroom, looked down at his sleeping wife, and changed quickly into his work clothes. He went down the stairs, fixed himself a light meal and went out the backdoor.

He walked over to the barn, stopping to make sure the hinges were intact and everything was as he had left it the night before. Things had been pretty rough the past week, and he was losing a lot of sleep over it. More disturbances in his barns during the night, the animals all worked up and crapping all over the floor. Tale was out there every day but had not seen anything. His motion sensors were all intact, and that frustrated the hell out of him because he knew something had paid his barns a visit, disturbing his animals. Agitated animals were not something he cared for. The meat went bad, they didn’t produce as much milk or as many eggs.

He wasn’t the only one complaining. Several farmers in the area and up in the hills were grousing about missing live-stock and farm equipment too. A meeting was scheduled for that morning at the Town Hall to discuss the strange activity. He knew tempers would be high, damn near explosive. People were upset with the Police for not doing enough to prevent all the theft.

Tale finished his daily inspection, the other hired hands coming in through the main gate to begin the day’s work.

“Good morning, Mr. Tale.”

“Good morning, Jove.” Tale rubbed his hands down his overalls. It was getting warm as the sun came out over the hills behind him and broke through that morning’s cloud.

‘The guards have reported nothing unusual for the past twenty-four hours,’ Jove said. He was Tale’s Chief Farm Supervisor, responsible for its every day running.

“Yes, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary either,” Tale said. “Double-check to make sure. Whoever’s behind all this practical joking is up to something. Perhaps we just haven’t seen anything yet. I have to go to a meeting in town and I doubt it’s going to be a short one. As usual, you have the farm to yourselves. I need say no more.”

“Indeed Sir,” Jove said, smiling. “I hope a workable resolution is reached. The animals aren’t doing too well. Most of them haven’t been able to get much rest.”

Tale’s mouth twitched, walking around the farm again, deep in thought, all the while cursing under his breath. He stopped at the rabbit pens, glanced at his watch, and decided it was time to head into town. The walk to the gravel-covered parking lot was a short one, the ground shifting beneath his feet. He climbed into his pickup truck, revving up the engine, letting it idle for a few minutes, still lost in unproductive thought. He finally put it into gear, rolling the truck down the hill, weaving it around large puddles of water left behind after a vicious rain storm a few days ago.

The day cleared up fast, the clouds crossing the sky from east to west resembling scattered pieces of cotton in a field of intense red and orange. A deep purple rose out from behind the Surile Mountains, the town of Makwanyani nestled in the valley below. He had lived in Makwanyani all his life. For him, it was the only place he could ever think of calling home. It wasn’t a place for everyone. Things were quiet and ideal for raising a family, keeping out of trouble and good for the business of rearing livestock. They needed the peace and tranquility of the great outdoors that was Makwanyani. He met his wife in the neighbouring town of Rangton. She’d been an accountant, Rangton having a bit more of a pulse than Makwanyani, a fact that had made him wonder if his wife would ever want to leave. But her family were reserved folk, so she’d had no problem with making the move. She managed the farm's finances and did a wonderful job.

He scowled, cursing again and beating the steering wheel lightly with his fingers. He was utterly baffled. He’d tried everything humanly possible to catch whatever it messed around with his livestock, and he’d turned up less than a fart. Everything from prehistoric hunting traps to modern-day motion sensors had been attempted with zero results. It seemed as if whatever was out there, wasn’t actually there. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but that idea seemed more plausible by the minute. That just went to show how absolutely pathetic it was all becoming.

The gravel road gave way to lead colored asphalt, and he put a little more pressure on the accelerator. The town’s modest grey brick buildings were soon in sight as he came over a small rise. It had awoken from its slumber, and the streets were already full of people, their voices drowned out by the honking of vehicle horns and revving, rotating engines. The Town Hall was located right at the town center, so he drove straight through, stopping at a couple of zebra crossings to allow groups of school children to pass. He thought of his sleeping daughter, another smile on his face. He hoped the meeting wouldn’t take longer than it had to. Knowing some of the other farmers, he knew that was probably wishing for the moon on a silver platter.

He pulled into the parking lot and glanced down at his watch again. He was early, and so was everyone else. That was good; the meeting was most likely already underway. They all knew what had been happening on each other's farms for weeks. By the end of the day, a haphazard resolution would hopefully be reached. Every suggestion would be re-hashed a thousand times over.

He walked into the hall, several heads turning in his direction. A man named Kater stood on the stage behind a wooden pulpit, his body drunkenly bent over the microphone. He talked to a woman at the base of the pulpit, staring her down. She didn’t look too happy, and neither did he. They argued. A hand swung back and forth from the front row for him to hurry over.

“Samuel, glad you could make it,” the man said, standing.

“You really think I would miss this, Joel?” he said. They shook hands and took their seats. Samuel looked around the hall as he removed his coat. It was nearly full, and in a few minutes, there would hardly be any place left to sit or stand.

“What’s going on?” he asked Joel. “Marsha seems pretty upset.”

“We all are,” he replied, watching the man and woman argue back and forth. “She just doesn’t like what Kater said a few minutes ago.”

“Which was what?”

“That we remain calm and try to take this slowly.”

“Easier said than done,” Samuel said. “Marsha raises chickens. She’s lost a quarter of her livestock.”

“That applies to almost everyone, except you perhaps,” Joel said. “Although I have to say your problem is just plain weird as hell.”

“Honestly, I would rather it wasn’t. Not that I’m not grateful that nothing’s missing, but it’s still no joy to have someone screwing around with your animals and not being able to do anything about it.”

Kater raised his hands and said something that angered Marsha even more. She yelled something back. It was difficult to hear it above all the racket in the room. Kater’s mouth opened. His hand went down to the pulpit, coming back up quickly, his fingers wrapped tightly around a wooden gavel. He held it high in the air, almost as if he intended to throw it at Marsha, bringing it down hard on a wooden stump beside the microphone. The sound carried through the speakers, with a sharp squeak.

“Order in this damn house!” he yelled. “This is not a barn, so stop acting like a bunch of animals!” The entire hall burst into fits of laughter. Marsha scowled at him but remained standing. The hall quieted down, more people entering through a side door on Samuel’s right and the main door at the back.

After a while, the gathering grew relatively quiet, quiet enough that Kater decided to lower his gavel. His eyes roamed the pews, satisfied he had everyone’s attention. He turned back to Marsha, disdain written all over his face. She stood in front of her seat, defiant, arms folded across her chest.

“Mrs. Laby, if you would kindly take your seat, we will call this meeting to order,” Kater said.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, making a face. “You already did or were you someplace else when that happened too?” The hall burst out laughing again. The scowl on Kater’s face returned, but he refrained from using the gavel a second time.

The laughter died away, with Marsha still standing. Kater looked past her, around the hall once more, as people continued to file in.

“Ok, I think we can get this meeting underway,” Kater said, moving closer to the pulpit, speaking directly into the mike. He was a tall man and had to bend his tall frame slightly.

“We all know why we’re here,” he said in a raspy voice that sounded like thumb tacks against a blackboard. “Each and every one of us has been affected by the theft and disturbances on their farms over the past couple of months. We’ve informed the local authorities, but they don’t seem to be taking us seriously.”

“Now, there is something we can agree on,” Marsha said loudly. Kater ignored her.

“They have told us that they are looking into the matter but seem to be lax about it,” Kater said. Angry shouts rang out from within the crowd.

“I know a lot of us are fed up with the inaction,” Kater continued. “But we need to handle this whole thing properly and come up with solutions that help us, instead of ones that ultimately hurt us.”

“You talk like a politician!” Marsha said, “Why don’t you just say what you mean, so we have no doubt about what it is you’re really trying to say, Mr. Chairman!” She turned and faced the hall, raising her hands high into the air. She was a woman of average height and build, tiny hands and feet, but her voice was powerful and resonated clearly across the hall.

“He means we shouldn’t try and do something about all the crap that’s been going on and wait for the authorities to actually do something!” she yelled.

Shouting broke out again, people waving their fists angrily, mouths pulled tight, cusses flying left and right.

Kater leaned forward to the mic again.

“It has been my position, ever since this whole peculiar business began, that doing things that are illegal in an attempt to solve the disappearances creates problems on top of the ones we currently have. We cannot take the law into our own hands!” Kater was heckled, his voice drowned by the sea of dissenting voices. Samuel Tale knew Kater had a point. Some farmers had gone to the extent of laying traps in the surrounding forest that were forbidden by law. They increased the possibility that innocent people could get hurt, including wild animals that made their homes in those areas.

“So, you’re just like the rest of the jerk-offs and assholes out there, aren’t you?” a pig farmer by the name of Kize said. He stepped out into the aisle, shuffling towards the front, a slight gimp in one of his legs.

“I’ve lost over twenty pigs, all fat healthy sons of bitches, the best of my stock. Someone just came right in and took ‘em,” he held his cap in one hand, flapping it around. “They just came in and took ‘em, right from under my nose. My farm is secure, and I make sure so are my animals, because they are my source of living, the reason I can send my kids to school and pay for when they’s is sick.” He walked around as he spoke, his voice deep and powerful like Martha’s, carrying itself right around the room. Everyone heard him. Samuel knew that Kize was sometimes a master of ceremony at social functions over the weekend. He certainly had the character for it.

“I told the local pigs about it,” he spat. Laughter went up at that, but Kize continued, raising his voice. “I told the local pigs, and what did they do? Nothing! They said they would look into it. They did, and then they did nothing. Suppose it happens again? The fact that it’s been happening someplace else is proof enough the problem is still there. Proof that the persons behind it are dicking around with us. Proof that the police are still doing nothing about it!” Kize flapped his cap around some more, the spit flying from his lips. “The police expect us to sort our shit out and then condemn us for doing it. They forget that we feed this region. We are the reason they get to sit down every night with their families. Sure, they don’t make a living off the land like we do. They get a payslip clean enough to wipe own their asses with at the end of every month. So I guess it’s fine for them, the Mayor and all those other jerk-offs out there to talk shit at our expense, right?!”

Cheers broke out, the crowd worked up into a frenzy, clapping and smacking their fists in total agreement. Kize now stood next to Marsha, who had a satisfied look on her face.

“Looks like she’s found the support she wanted,” Joel said.

“She’s been garnering it for weeks. Wouldn’t have been too hard to get with the situation being what it is,” Samuel said.

“It’s quite clear that we need to continue to take matters into our own hands!” Kize said. “We need to do that, regardless of what these jerks say!” More roars of approval, the air heated. General sentiment was clear on that point. Kater banged his gavel a couple of times, calling for order.

“This is the kind of talk we don’t need,” Kater said into the microphone. “I’ve said this many times before and I’ll say it again. We are farmers, not law enforcement. There is only so far we can go in protecting our property. Beyond that, we are stepping into territory that isn’t ours. That’s dangerous!”

Kize spun around, looking up at Kater. He was clearly on a roll now, the smirk he wore almost demented, a rabid glint in his eyes.

“Dangerous for the bastards messing around with our livelihoods! The law has done nothing but blow us off. They’re just feeling like morons because we’ve proved that’s what they are. Morons! Incompetent morons at that! And there you are, backing their non-existent play. Why are you even up there in the first place? Guys like you belong in the Mayor’s office, part of his ass-kissing brigade!” The cheers and laughter at that point shook the hall. Samuel looked at Kater, who appeared at a loss for words. He licked his lips, reached for his gavel again, thought twice about it, pulling his hand away. He waited patiently for the gathering to settle back down.

“You can call me all kinds of names,” Kater finally said, “but you know that this problem affects me too.”

“Then act like it, damn it!” someone yelled.

“But looking at the stats, five deaths and rising, all on account of actions we’ve taken…I can’t see how that improves our predicament,” Kater said. ‘We need the authorities on our side if we hope to put a stop to all of this!”

“Traitor!” People rose to their feet, making all kinds of rude gestures at him. “Get that turncoat off that podium before we roast him like the skinny pig that he is!”

Samuel leaned sideways, trying to make himself heard above the pandemonium.

“This meeting isn’t going to a place Kater wants,” he said.

“Kize and the others do have a point,” Joel said. “The police don’t know how to solve this problem. I find it hard to believe that they don’t want to, though. This whole thing has already disturbed supply lines to the main city markets in Ursa, as well as some of the smaller outlets right here in Makwanyani.’

Marsha and Kize waved their hands at Kater. Kater shouted down at them, the veins in all their necks standing out, threatening to burst at any moment. Nothing was orderly about the gathering anymore and nothing substantial had been reached either, but Samuel knew what it would all boil down to in the end. The farmers would continue to mete out their own kind of justice until the authorities woke up and realized they had a real problem on their hands.

10

MKABELA, FORT YAHUMA, PLANET NIARA

Sergeant Arlene Vitosis looked over at Sergeant Irma Dali.

“You ready, D?” she asked.

“A bit jet-lagged, glad to be back and as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m eager to get this over with.”

Vitosis couldn’t have agreed with her more. This thing had been a long time coming. They made their way towards Captain Ruvuma’s quarters. The Captain insisted on seeing them as soon as they got in. They hadn’t wasted any time except to change out of their sweaty combat gear and into clean uniforms. They had spent the last seven months in deep space, following one lead after another, coming up short every time. Only in the last two months had they made any real progress. They had found Mavurama on a remote satellite planet called Ardor, orbiting the uninhabited planet of Tio. Their orders had been clear: to simply watch and document their observations. Nothing more, nothing less.

Four armed guards stood outside the Captain’s quarters. Both sergeants were searched for weapons and asked to show identification. One of the guards spoke into her intercom.

“Madame, the sergeants are here to see you,”

“Let them in, Private.”

The door slid open, and Arlene entered first, followed by Dali. Ruvuma stood in front of a large smart-screen, the screen on stand-by mode. She wore an anxious look in her eyes, watching them as they approached. Arlene noticed she was not alone. Lieutenant Lakota, Ruvuma’s second-in-command, sat on a chair on the left, a magazine open in her lap.

“Sergeants, sorry for being pushy, but time is of the essence,” Ruvuma said.

“We understand, Madame,” they said. Ruvuma asked them to take seats, Arlene stepping up to the desk to present a hard-copy of their report before sitting.

“You found Mavurama?” Ruvuma asked, her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Yes, Madame, we did,” answered Sergeant Vitosis. “On a Class U Satellite called Ardor. He’s in a small industrial town called Duero. Mining mostly, precious stones and some metallic ores. It’s not an important planet strategically or otherwise. A dozen or more planets in the same solar system support similar kind of industry.”

“Is that the reason Mavurama chose to lay low there?” Lieutenant Lakato asked.

“Yes and no,” Vitosis replied. “The planet is one of several orbiting a larger planet called Tio, which is, completely uninhabited. Tio supports a variety of plant life but has a lethal virus present that affects humans. The virus is called Cess and takes several years to incubate, but when it does mature, attacks the central nervous system within twenty–four hours. It shuts everything down permanently, so no one even dares go down there. This fact has made the surrounding mother planets unfavorable places for settlement, even though it’s been proved that the Cess virus is indigenous only to Tio. No one seems ready and willing to take that chance, especially since the Satellites themselves support human colonization just fine. It means there is little traffic passing through this solar system. It attracts a lot of people who would like to go unnoticed.”

“Space pirates,” Ruvuma said.

“Yes, Madame. And plenty of other unsavoury types,” Arlene said. ‘The solar system lies on the edge of the Outer Planets and is out of the reach of the Emperor’s security grid. This was just one of the main reasons Mavurama chose to make planetfall there.”

“What was the other?” Ruvuma asked. The two sergeants glanced at each other before Vitosis continued.

“Mavurama is looking for more bodies,” Vitosis said. “He may or may not be running low on blood rations.”

“He could be,” Ruvuma said, her excitement visibly on the rise. “The attack on Basongo was over six months ago. Unless he’s been somewhere we haven’t heard to restock, he could definitely be running low.”

“There is a man in Duero, a human trafficker by the name of Callis Khan, who is trying to arrange some a business meeting with him. We weren’t able to pinpoint Mavurama’s exact location, but we narrowed it down to a mountain region towards the east of the town. That news had a lot of the town’s people freaking out, rumours going around that devil worshippers were on the planet. Most were reluctant to talk. We had to resort to other means of intel gathering. Easier to get blood from a stone,” Sergeant Dali said.

“Are these traffickers permanently on Ardor or is Ardor simply a depot and not a main base of operations?” Lakato asked. She had closed the magazine and placed it on the space next to her.

“That depends on several factors,” replied Dali. “Like Sergeant Vitosis said, Ardor is on the edge of the Outer Planets, so it doesn’t get a lot of Imperial Patrols. That doesn’t mean it isn’t monitored. A good deal of the human trafficking taking place on the Outer Planets can be traced back to these satellites. That makes them an occasional target of the security forces in that region, as well as those from the Outer Planets. During those times, criminal gangs stay off the radar. The sweeps last approximately three months. Patrols from Ersa are conducting one such sweep as we speak, which means Callis and his associates aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Ardor is his base of operations for the meantime.”

“As well as Mavurama’s,” Ruvuma said. “For the meantime.”

“How long have the patrols been underway?” Lakato asked.

“A month and a half,” Arlene said. “When we left, Callis was in the process of trying to make contact with Mavurama, but it appears he met with failure. Mavurama’s gotten the point across that he won’t make contact unless he initiates it.”

“Something we’ve learned the hard way,” Ruvuma said.

The sergeants finally left Ruvuma’s office, Lieutenant Lakato urging them to get a good rest.

“She didn’t need to tell us that,” Dali said, as they went towards to the officers’ mess. “I’m ready to crash in every sense of the word right now. Did you see how excited the Boss lady was back there?”

Vitosis laughed.

“I did. I can’t imagine why. We’ve been on Mavurama’s tail for years, and this is no different from the other times we’ve nearly cornered him. I think it’s becoming a real obsession with her, the thrill of the chase. I think she admires him, from one soldier to another, that is. He’s no walkover, we have to give him credit for that. Not like the others,” she said.

“I think she believes this thing will only be truly over once Mavurama is either captured or killed. He’s held out the longest, and his army is no walk in the park either,” she added.

“Yeah, well seven months of this and I’ve just about had enough,” Dali said, yawning loudly. “Seven months of stasis doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Tell that to the bodies the Vamps grabbed on Basongo,” Vitosis said. “The sooner we get Mavurama, the sooner all this ends for everyone.”

“If we get Mavurama,” Dali raised a finger. “That’s a big if. Unless the Boss Lady plans on working a miracle this time, the merry-go-round will continue.”

* * *

“This is it, Laura,” Ruvuma said, jumping out of her seat. “I couldn’t have planned this better myself!”

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Janet,” Lakato said. “But we’ve been here before. Are you sure this little plan if yours is going to make any difference?”

Ruvuma spun round, a wide smile on her face, her eyes dancing.

“How could it not?” she asked, taken aback by the question, surprised by its sheer absurdity. “The stage has already been set, the actors are in place. All I need to do is get the antagonist backstage and have her wait for her cue.”

“Are you sure she will follow her lines?”

“Why not? That’s what they were designed to do.”

Lakato reached sideways and picked up her glass of apple juice from a side table.

“We‘ve never sent them into this kind of a situation before. Simulations are one thing, the real world is something else.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, but I know what you mean,” Ruvuma said. “Have a little faith in cutting-edge tech.”

“We did and look where it got us,” Lakato said. “Chasing vamps into every nook and cranny galaxy-wide.”

“Then have a little more faith.” Ruvuma paced up and down the room, the smart screen powered up, decorated with various star-charts. “Laurel, we couldn’t have planned this better even if we’d wanted to. Just look at the whole thing closely. Mavurama decides, after seven months of tracking his vampiric ass through deep space, to land on a planet that just happens to be on the edge of the Outer Ring. That’s like walking into a dark alley in the dead of night. He could have gone further, but he didn’t.”

“That’s because he might be running out of blood,” Lakato said.

“Yes, but the timing couldn’t have been more appropriate. And that timing places him on a planet that is crawling with scum like Callis, who are trying to stay off Imperial radars. Mavurama finds he’s in the same fix as Callis and is forced to do the same. He’s stuck there waiting for us to go get him.”

“What’s not to say everything he’s doing isn’t the result of some crazy plan he’s figuring out, a plan we still know nothing about? He could easily get away if he wanted to.”

“He could, but why hasn’t he? After that particular cluster of planets and satellites, the Empire tapers off into nothingness. As far as we can tell, there is no intelligent life that side of the Universe. It’s not by choice that the Empire doesn’t extend further than that. The Emperor is greedy, we all know that, but it’s scientific fact there is nothing beyond the Satellite Belt. That could be the other reason Mavurama has stopped. Desperate people do desperate things.”

“We can then assume two things,’ Lakato said. “One, the fact that Mavurama is sitting put, could be because there is nowhere to go from there. It’s the end of the line, end of the road. We all know the theory of empty spaces in the Universe. We also know the reason the Empire doesn’t go further in that direction is that there are a lot more valuable, bigger planets towards the center of our Empire. That nothing exists out there is still a theory a lot of astrophysicists are attempting to debunk. Secondly, you mentioned desperate people do desperate things. Suppose, just suppose, Mavurama couldn’t care less about the space patrols? I honestly think their presence doesn’t faze him one bit. We’ve put such a squeeze on the guy, more than any one sane human being or vamp could have handled and he’s been able to shake loose every time. I doubt Ersa space patrol is going to stop him now.”

“You enjoy being the devil’s advocate, don’t you?” Ruvuma said. She’d stopped pacing, coming to a rest in front of the smart screen, listening attentively.

“Someone has to be,” Lakato said, her glass cupped in both hands. “What I’m saying is this: suppose Mavurama is planning to enter the empty space outside the Satellite belt? All this time he’s buying could simply be in readiness for that big leap for all vampire kind. If they do that, our mission comes to an end.”

“And Mavurama gets away for good,” Ruvuma said quietly, exasperation instead of excitement underlying her tone.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it would. It would mean my mission is a failure and five years of my life wasted,” Ruvuma said, her face drooping.

“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration, J? You’ve taken out almost half of the remaining Vamps in the past three months. That’s not an underachievement.”

“Ha!” she waved a hand through the air like she was a slapping a bothersome insect away. “Those were slackers, they were weak, like wounded animals. Taking them out was like walking into a zoo with a loaded gun and pulling the trigger. They were no better than animals in a cage. Except for the really nasty ones like Radimir and Stas who are still out there.”

“So, this is more than just being about the mission,” Lakato said. “This is about proving to Mavurama that you are just as good as he is. That he can’t outwit you, that someday you will catch him.”

Ruvuma turned to face Lakato.

“I won’t lie. He is the biggest challenge I’ve ever had to face...” her voice trailed off. “This might sound silly, but the pursuit makes me feel truly alive, not just parts of me but the whole of me.”

“It’s not silly,” Lakato said. ‘But if he does decide to enter that empty space, you have to accept that he was the one that did, in fact, get away.”

“He always is. I pray it doesn’t come to that,” Ruvuma said.

“You might wish it does,” Lakato said, taking another sip of her juice, pressing her lips together as she lowered the glass. “Our prey has fangs. Suppose they decide to stop running and fight instead? They haven’t forgotten the code, don’t forget.”

“I haven’t either,” Ruvuma said, her eyes falling on the coat of Imperial Arms hanging on the wall behind her desk, the words in Latin running right round it. She read them out loud.

“Stand and fight or die trying.”

11

GINNER AVENUE, CBD, UPTOWN MUZU, MUZU, PLANET GAIA

Lieutenant Paul Lin reached for his second handful of peanuts, shoving them into his mouth, one by one. Eating made the time pass by more quickly. It beat the boredom of having to wait. He’d have to watch it though, peanuts had a way of backing up the works down below.

“You planning on finishing the whole stash?”

Lieutenant Lin cleared his throat. The salt from the peanuts had dried the back of his mouth.

“No, Sir,” he answered. ‘It’s we’ve been here for quite a while, and well, it’s boring.”

“That’s the price you pay for having politicians as your employers. The bastards keep you waiting hours on end.”

“I was under the impression we worked for the city.”

“And who runs the city?” Lin pushed the bowl back into the center of the table.

“I get your point, Sir,” he said. He looked down through the glass table, to his feet underneath. Pure leather, his shoes polished to a buoyant shine that morning before leaving home for work. He re-polished them about an hour ago when they got back from the farms in the Kamba district. The Captain had called him just as he was about to walk over to administration. Told him to keep his ass in the parking lot, they were going on a field trip and he need not bother coming into the main building. The Captain sounded agitated. When he learned they’d be going down to the Mayor’s office first, he understood why.

The Mayor wanted to find out, first-hand what all the fuss was about from the ‘farmers.’ Captain Peter Gamin took the Mayor to a farm whose entire livestock of goats had been stolen in one night. The farmer, a middle-aged man with a shiny bald patch, unruly tufts of ginger-brown hair growing out the sides of his head and huge, calloused hands, had no kind words for either Captain Gamin or the Mayor. Things were at last looking up for once that morning, he said. Two turds with one scoop of the shovel, he said. He told Gamin and the Mayor, especially the Mayor, what he thought of the both of them. Lin had never seen the Mayor so upset during his entire term of office. Mayor Coleho was usually too full of himself to care what other people said about him, but that morning he received a whole dose of what Farmer D.B. Gulani thought of him. It was as crude and callous as the farmer’s hands and stuck to Mayor Coleho’s ego for the rest of the day.

The doors opened, Mayor Coleho briskly storming in, looking flushed. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. His aide placed a huge khaki file in front of him. The Mayor glanced at it like it was a piece of garbage that had somehow dropped from the ceiling above him.

“Looks like he’s still hurting to me,” Captain Gamin whispered to Lin. “He was ripped a new one, surprised he can still sit.” Lin giggled.

“What was that Captain?” Coleho said sharply, looking across the table at Gamin and Lin, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed.

“Nothing,” Gamin said. “Just that we’re glad to see you again, that’s all.”

Coleho glowered, flipping the file to the first page. He held out his hand, and his assistant placed a pair of red-rimmed reading glasses in his palm. Coleho sniffed and put them on, staring down at the report as if it was diseased.

“I don’t really understand what all the fuss is about,” Coleho said.

“What all the fuss is about is in my report,” Gamin said. “The reason we went out into the field today.”

Coleho shot Gamin a dark look.

“No need to remind me, Captain,” Coleho snapped. “I was there. I’m surprised his teeth don’t fall out with his mouth being so rotten.”

“His concerns are genuine, as are the rest of the farmers’,” Lieutenant Lin said. “They are accusing us of inaction.”

“What do they expect us to do?” Coleho said. “Let them go around shooting up everything they see lurking around the farms? Oh, I forgot. We do let them do that. Now they want to booby trap the area outside their farms!”

“All the Farming Union is asking is for more manpower in the hill country, more surveillance drones. It might go a long way in helping us solve this problem,” Lin said.

“More manpower?” Coleho said, almost shocked. “Absolutely not! People are terrified and all because your farmers can’t keep their mouths shut. They’ve been spreading stories of strange man-like beasts seven feet tall! What do you think citizens will say if I pull valuable human resource off the street when people need protecting? No!”

“Sir, you just said you didn’t understand what all the fuss was about,” Captain Gamin said. “Are you saying you believe these stories, or is there some other reason you’re reluctant to give the farmers what they’re asking for?”

Coleho removed his glasses, pointing them at Gamin.

“Are you implying I’m doing this for the votes, Captain?”

Captain Gamin gave his shoulders a nonchalant shrug.

“You said it, Sir, not me,” he replied. “Are you?”

“Do you really expect me to answer that, Captain?”

”You brought it up, Sir. I don’t know, and I really don’t care.” Captain Gamin leaned forward, prodding the glass table-top with his left index finger.

“Here’s what I know,” Gamin said slowly. “Your farmers voted for you.” Coleho scowled at that. “Your farmers are looking to you for help. As their elected official, their glorious leader, it isn’t unrealistic for them to turn to you for the answers they so desperately seek. You can play your politics, swing this way and that way for votes, I really don’t care. I do care when your business becomes my business, when your farmers start taking matters into their own hands and doing things that get in the way of my people doing our jobs, simply because you want to bet one group of voters off against the other,” Gamin paused. Coleho’s lips curled again in their customary fashion when he heard something he didn’t like.

“Your farmers are the lifeblood of this city. They are the source of our daily bread. Yeah sure, there are other supply routes from other towns, but the supply routes from the Hill Country food belt offer cheaper produce, and cheap is how the other voters, the ones who need protection from the monsters in the hills like to buy things. How would they be able to afford the high life they are so accustomed to? Would they appreciate it, if asked to pay more? Think about it, Mr. Mayor.”

“Socio-economics aside, here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t heed the Farming Unions calls for assistance. The farmers are going to continue to take matters into their own hands, which is messy. This will cause things to spiral out of control even further. How? Firstly, the problem will not be solved by angry farmers wielding guns and setting up home-made contraptions. Food supplies, cheap food supplies will start to dwindle. A ton of votes gone. Lost forever. Next, the other voters, the non-farmers, the citizens, will notice that it’s not so cheap anymore to get stuffed. They will wonder why and the questions and answers attached to them, will lead back to you, the man who wouldn’t listen to the farmers. Another batch of votes lost there as well. They will want to know how you’re fixing the problem. Then they’ll learn that you did nothing but offer excuses. Things will continue to spiral downward from there. You and I will probably be out of office by then, and it will be up to the next pair of turds to pick up the pieces, tidy things up from where we dumped off.”

“Very vividly painted Captain, thank you very much!” Coleho snapped, wringing his hands together.

“Just saying,” Gamin said, leaning back in his chair, his arms stretched out, appearing casual and relaxed. Lin smiled. The Captain almost seemed to be enjoying himself.

“What do you suggest?” Coleho asked.

Lin looked at Gamin for permission to answer. Gamin nodded.

”What we’ve been suggesting all along,” Lin began. “Working with the farmers to solve this problem. They know that hill country better than any of us. If we hope to sort this mess out, we have to do it in conjunction with the farmers.”

“Will they even lay down their arms?” Coleho asked.

“The only reason they armed themselves in the first place is because they were stranded for help by us,” Lin said. “They’ll lay down their ordnance and other home-made devices. It will mean they can go back to the business of farming and making money. They’ve already lost a lot of time on this and time is money and everything else to those people.”

Coleho flicked through the report some more.

“If this really is a problem, why hasn’t anyone been caught? It says that there’s never been any physical evidence that equipment has been removed by anyone, leading some of your own men Captain to conclude that all this might just be a hoax on the farmers to claim insurance,” Coleho said.

“My men run the investigations and go wherever the evidence leads,” Gamin said. “Taking these incidents in isolation, insurance fraud might be a possibility. In my own personal opinion, however, one hundred and fifty farmers using the same MO hoping that they get away with a little extra cash is a stretch. Even for the farmers. The Farmers Union has cataloged all the theft, and we have ruled out the possibility of a scam. They aren’t crying wolf. There really is a big, bad wolfie out there.”

“Do you have any explanation as to how all these things, cattle, goats, sheep, tractors, etc., go missing and how there’s no forensic evidence to account for the disappearances?” Coleho asked. He looked from Lin to Gamin and back again. Lin opened his mouth, but he felt a sharp tap on his left foot. He closed it quickly.

“Once we can go over everything more thoroughly and have regained the trust and respect of the farmers, we’ll be able to come up with several working theories. The farmers have all but shut us out at the moment. We need to get back into their good books,” Gamin replied.

Captain Gamin and Lieutenant Lin left Coleho’s high-rise office, taking the elevator down to street level. The sky stood a cloudy blue, but not dismal, the time a little after noon. A slight breeze blew in from the Hill Country. The streets thronged with people rushing for lunch and other appointments, harvest season just around the corner. Despite all of the rumours of monsters, the fervour remained unabated. Harvest time was still the busiest time of the year. Food stores and restaurants made new orders, vying for the freshest product. Manufacturing companies sought out the best quality raw materials for production, households did their own monthly stocking. It went on and on, and Gamin and Lin stood right in the middle of it.

“What’s up, Captain?” Lin asked. “With the foot-tapping I mean?”

Gamin loosened his tie.

“Didn’t want you giving everything away back there. It’s best he doesn’t know everything we do. I don’t care what he’s said about keeping him in the loop. He’s not the kind of person you keep in the loop. Do that, and you end up with a damn knot.”

“You think he doesn’t know we know about the call he got from the Military? For him to stay out of this?” Lin said.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Gamin said. They walked down the street slowly, people rushing past, the sun shielded from sight by tall skyscrapers.

“The only reason they’ve approached him is because they know they can lean into him. Coleho has a weak backbone. Which makes me wonder why they thought telling him would inspire him to lean into us. This isn’t the Military’s usual garden stop. They don’t have a lot of influence here and as such, can’t pull strings the way they’re used to on planets closer to the Inner Rings. Coleho’s managed to stall us for a while now and that he even tried to in the first place, is what got me suspicious. The man may actually have a pair on him after all.” Lin snickered, covering his mouth

“What do you think they want, the Military I mean?” Lin asked as they stopped at a zebra crossing and waited for the light to change to green.

“Beats me, but it has something to do with all the shit that’s been happening around here, guaranteed. How else could it not? Maybe one of their experiments was designed to see how far they can screw with local pig farmers before the farmers become animals themselves,” Gamin said. Lin let out a short hard laugh.

“Glad you find it funny Lin because I know a hundred and plus people who don’t.” The light changed, the cars stopped on either side of the crossing. The crowd surged forward, another approaching from the opposite direction, like oceans colliding.

They got to the other side, moving up the street towards Restaurant Avenue.

“Do you think this has something to do with the missing persons?” Lin asked.

“It has to. It’s no coincidence that all those John and Jane Does have gone missing around the same time all these other items have gone poof.”

“Is the Military behind this wave of disappearances too?”

Gamin didn’t answer right away

“It could be,” he answered after giving the question and answer a little thought. “But without a shred of evidence, what I think is as good as tabloid trash. With Coleho out of the way, we need to focus on collecting evidence in order to prove anything. The Military won’t bother us. I haven’t seen any soldiers around. That just goes to show how discrete they want to be about this, whatever this is. We go wherever the evidence leads, and I mean just that. Wherever.”

12

DUERO, PLANET ARDOR

The dog stopped at the bottom of the stairs, sauntering towards the swinging doors with canine caution. It lowered its snout, peering into the room, sniffing loudly, attracted by the smell of roasting meat. It squeezed its way underneath the opening, raising its saliva covered mouth, moving it side to side, drops oozing to the floor.

“What the hell? Look at that damn, mangy dog by the door! Someone get it!”

“There ain’t no dog on the menu tonight, Chuka.”

The crowd in the saloon burst out laughing. Undeterred, Chuka got to his feet, trying to steady himself. He threw the large bone he had in his left hand at the dog. It scampered out; the huge bone hit the doors and fell to the floor. The dog’s snout reappeared almost instantly, grabbing one end of the bone and whisking it away.

“Bloody dog, I just started that!” Chuka said. He sat back down, almost toppling over to one side. He was helped back up by the man sitting on his left.

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown it at the damn dog in the first place,” the man said. The other people seated around the table burst out laughing again. Chuka burped and waved at the bartender.

“Get me another one of those leg things and make it a bigger, fat juicy son of a bitch this time. That damn dog’s gonna be crapping for a week,” he giggled.

“I was down at the market earlier today,” the young man with short dark hair on Chuka’s left said. “More frightened talk about the vampires and their star-ship up in the mountains again. People said they’ve even seen them walking around at night.”

“Are they really vampires or is all this a bunch of crappy fairy tales and bullshit local legends?” Chuka said. “People here pray to the trees for shit’s sake!”

“I hear they’re some kind of cult. Demon worshippers, sacrifices, that kind of thing,” the young man said.

“Whatever they are, whoever they are, they have some serious heat on them,” said a woman with blue dyed hair. She sat on the young man’s left. She pulled at her cigarette secured to a holder she held delicately between two fingers. “I’ve heard this group of vampires made its way out of the Wacha star cluster about a year ago. It’s been on the run longer than that.”

“Who’s chasing them?” the young man said. His name was Birr. The woman leaned forward.

“I hear it’s the Imperial Special Forces,” she said quietly. The other men at the table gave each other surprised looks.

“I haven’t heard Callis mention anything you’ve just said,” Chuka said.

“Callis knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to let you in on his little secrets,” a man on Chuka’s right said. “That’s why he’s in charge, and you’re not, Chuka.”

“Wise words coming from you, Ian,” Chuka said. “As always, I’ll try to remember them.”

“You should, you’d get into less trouble that way,” Ian replied.

“Mateo was out in the mountains again, trying to secure a deal with their leader,” Birr said.

“What kind of deal?”

“I have no idea Cago but all I know is that it involved a shipment of bodies,” Birr answered.

“So, these guys are traffickers, just like us?” Cago said. He gave his bald head a few gentle rubs. “If they are, what’s with all the hype and vampire stories? Sounds like a lot of exaggeration. Like Chuka said, a bunch of bullshit.”

“Except it isn’t,” the blue-haired woman said. “What I’ve just said about these guys coming out of Wacha is true. That ship of theirs is a military ship. Those guys are ex-marines, all the way,”

“Active marines chasing ex-marines?” Cago said. “This story keeps getting better and better. And why would they do that?”

“Sakira’s right,” Birr said. “I’ve been hearing the same story for years now, how during the Belt Wars some soldiers wouldn’t take any more orders from the Emperor and they wanted to set up their own state or some nonsense like that. That was treason, they rebelled, and they’ve been hunted down ever since.”

“Like you said,” Cago held up his hand and took the cigarette Sakira was holding out. He gave it a few deep pulls and handed it back. “Stories, the good bedtime variety. If these guys are really vampires, how come we haven’t met one single person who’s actually seen them? And if they are so high on the military’s shit list, how come there isn’t a reward out for them or something? That’s what I want to know.”

“The only way a person can ever know something is to ask questions,” Ian said, rubbing his palms together. “You don’t ask the questions, so how can you know the answers?”

“Look, I don’t believe in all these silly stories about vamps and demons and flesh-eating cannibals. We’re at the edge of the known Galaxy, and there’s nothing more than same as there’s always been,” Cago said, squeezing his lips with his right thumb and index finger. “Nothing.”

“If that’s how you feel, why ask to know in the first place?” Ian said. Chuka laughed.

“You got him doing his philosophizing thing again, Ca,” Chuka said.

A figure approached their table, and a hushed silence quickly descended.

“Callis wants everyone down at the warehouse in twenty minutes.” The figure walked away without another word.

“Mateo really knows how to poop the party,” Chuka said.

“His sombre mood can only mean one thing,” Ian said. ‘He’s finally secured a meeting with our friends in the mountains.” He smiled at the faces around the table.

“Tonight we have all our questions answered,” he said.

* * *

The warehouse covered several hundred square metres and like the saloon, was located several stories below ground. Callis, in his deep purple suit, matching shoes, white shirt, and black tie, turned to the others in the room. They were stationed at various points, boxes and crates stacked up by the blacked-out windows. Neon lights hung from the ceiling beams, the sides of the warehouse shrouded in shadow like the men who stood there, automatic handguns and rifles at the ready.

“Stay sharp people,” Callis said loudly. “Our visitors have quite the reputation. No one is to do anything without my saying so. They do, and I’ll kill them myself. That’s a promise, and you know I am a man of my word.”

“Yeah, right,” Chuka said. Birr, who was standing next to him, snickered.

“What was that Chuka?” Callis said, a scowl on his face.

“Nothing, Sir,” Chuka said, sounding apologetic. “I had something in my throat.”

“Well, next time make sure you swallow it,” Callis said. He sat at a long table in the middle of the room, several chairs arranged around it. Several bottles of wine were laid out, surrounded by fruit in polished, silver bowls. Chuka counted at least three bottles. It was not the cheap stuff.

“These guys must be important for all this,” he whispered. “Or maybe the Boss is just trying to make an impression, you know how he is.” Birr nodded. Callis glanced in their direction again, his scowl deeper.

“I thought just I told you to swallow whatever it is you had in your throat?” he snapped. “I’ll make you eat more than shit, Chuka. See how you like swallowing that.” The entire warehouse burst out laughing. Birr almost doubled over, his hand on his stomach. Chuka glared at him but kept his mouth shut.

“Alright, people, settle down,” Callis said. “Our look-out says our friends are on their way. Keep those trigger fingers ready, but not too ready.”

The neon lights created a narrow strip of light on the opposite end of the table, right up to the door on the far side of the warehouse. It opened slowly, a lone figure appearing. Chuka’s body tensed; he heard Birr draw his breath in sharply. The almost tangible tension in the room became more apparent. The figure remained motionless for a few seconds, stepping back suddenly through the door.

“What the-“ Birr whispered. Chuka saw him grab his weapon tighter.

“Easy, people, easy,” Callis said. Chuka looked at him. Callis appeared calm and collected enough. Why wouldn’t he be? He had a room full of armed men, men paid to put themselves between their boss and whatever sought to harm him. That included bullets.

The door remained open, the sound of footsteps approaching clear and unmistakable, echoing down the hallway. A figure re-appeared at the door. Chuka couldn’t tell if it was the same one from before. Shoulders turned sideways, it nodded and stepped aside. Another appeared and stepped to the opposite side. This was followed by a third, this one taller, taking a continuous stride forward, the first two in front of it. A second set of figures appeared through the doorway bringing up the rear, all four forming a protective cordon around the taller one. They marched, moving quickly across the warehouse floor.

“Is that them?” asked Chuka, to no one in particular.

“Beats me,” Birr answered. “If they are really vampires, they look pretty ordinary to me. But then again I’ve never seen a vampire in real life, only in books.”

Their visitors dressed in black and grey army fatigues, their faces covered with modified combat helmets. Chuka assumed the taller one was the leader, he stood smack in the middle. The guards stopped abruptly and stepped off to the sides, facing outwards, staring directly into the shadows of the warehouse, motionless. They didn’t seem to be packing any kind of weapons. If they were ex-marines from the Belt Wars, it was safe to assume their weapons were hidden from sight.

The tall one, the leader, took several steps forward, coming to a stop at the table. He bowed, one hand across his chest, the other at his side. Callis rose to his feet, smoothing down his tie and suit jacket. He cleared his throat loudly.

“I had no idea it was a dress-up party,” Callis said. His men burst out laughing. The tall figure straightened up, turned, and looked directly at Chuka. Chuka stumbled backwards, the smile dropping off his face instantly. Callis laughed.

“Come now,” Callis said, his hands clasped across his front. “I was under the impression that this was face to face. What kind of business is this going to be if we can’t even look each other in the eyes?”

The leader’s helmet fissured into several pieces that disappeared from sight around the nape of its collar.

“The one and only Mavurama,” Callis said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“I can’t say the same for you,” Mavurama said, his eyes cold, his lips set into a thin line. Callis seemed unperturbed by the remark.

“Please,” Callis sat back down, gesturing at the food and drink on the table.

“There, make yourselves comfortable or maybe you already ate? I hear your tastes can be quite bloody.”

Birr glanced at Chuka, both their mouths open.

“It depends,” Mavurama simply said, taking his seat. His guards remained standing, their faces still covered.

“You’re becoming quite the urban legend, you and your band of merry space marines. We all used to think you were fairy tales. But you here in the flesh proves those fanciful stories are real,” Callis said.

“Do you have what I’m looking for or not?” Mavurama said curtly. Chuka watched him closely, Mavurama’s long face pale and sombre, but nothing particularly strange about it. Maybe he wasn’t a vampire after all, and Callis was just toying with him.

“You’ve been busy on some of the other Satellites,” Callis said. “How do I know you won’t do the same with us?”

“If your cargo contains women, children and anyone else who shouldn’t be there, then I promise you, I will do the same,” Mavurama said, smiling. Chuka covered his mouth to stifle a cry.

“Did you see that?” he hissed to Birr. “He has fangs!”

“Some of my associates aren’t too happy with your stance on this whole issue,” Callis reached for a plate of dates, holding one between his fingers as if it was a precious stone. “Don’t you think you’re being high and almighty? You traffic in human cargo too, or we might not be having this conversation.”

“We draw a line, and you know where that line is,” Mavurama said. He sat with his hands folded on the table-top, one over the other, appearing as calm as Callis. Chuka bit his lower lip. He hoped things continued as smoothly. The stories about the Vamps were probably all hyperbole. What wasn’t was the fact that they were trained, ruthless killers. He was just a hired hand with a gun and poor aim. If a fight did erupt, the Vamps would make short work of all of them.

“And I doubt you or any of your associates will be reporting us to the authorities in the near future,” Mavurama said. “Because that wouldn’t end very well for you or your associates.” Callis’ arrogant smile faltered. Chuka thought he saw a touch of fear pass through his eyes.

“No need for veiled threats, Commander,” Callis said, the date still between his fingers. “We are all in this for mutual benefit.”

“Not at the expense of innocent people,” Mavurama said.

“Your colleague and dear friend Ruvuma has been busy waging a determined war against the rest of your kind on the Carpus Rings. I hear close to two thousand over the last month. The nets getting tighter, are you sure there is nothing else I can assist you with?” Callis asked, his manner getting cockier by the minute. Callis had always been a bit too sure of himself in Chuka’s opinion. An opinion he kept to himself.

“Nothing at the moment. This present consignment of yours will do just fine. If it checks out, that is,” Mavurama said. “When are we good for inspection?”

“Tomorrow night,” Callis said, finally popping the date into his mouth. “I wish things could be speeded along, but there are a lot of Imperial patrols and spot checks all over the place. You’ve seen this for yourselves, you know I’m telling the truth.”

Mavurama rose to his feet.

“Yes, we know. I hope that applies to everything else we’ve reached an understanding on tonight.” His helmet and visor snapped back into place. He turned, his guards fell silently into position, the same tight-knit cordon as before, walking quickly back towards the exit.

After they were gone, Chuka let out a deep breath. Callis pointed at him.

“You, Chuka. Get me a bottle of wine,” he grunted. Chuka rushed forward, grabbed one from the center of the table, and placed it carefully in front of Callis. Callis looked up at him, a look of total bewilderment on his face.

“Well, pour me a glass, damn it!” Callis snapped.

“You didn’t say to, boss,” Chuka mumbled.

“Well, I’m frakking saying it now, damn it!” Chuka opened the bottle and poured its contents into a tall, blue wine glass, careful not to spill any. Doing that would incur more wrath from his boss. Callis drained it with a single gulp. He wiped his lips with his fingertips, letting out a loud burp.

“That’s better,” he said, breathing heavily. His men stared at him, waiting for their next order.

“What are all you shitheads looking at, standing around like a bunch of morons? Let’s go, we don’t have all night!” Chuka rushed towards the main door, Birr at his side.

“You ever seen the Boss so shook up like that before?” Chuka asked. They broke into a light jog in the direction of the central warehouse area on the surface, making sure that the perimeter was clear. Callis would remain where he was until the entire surrounding was checked over thoroughly.

“No,” Birr answered. “But then again, I ain’t never sat across from a vampire telling me he was going to bleed me out if I pissed him off before either.”

13

AMBER HILLS, MAHOGANY FOREST, PLANET GAIA

Red Nhlane stood with his hands folded behind his back, like a Captain overlooking the ocean from the deck of his ship, a master of all he surveyed. He stood on a grassy mound that had not been there four months earlier. He had looked at maps of the area, a total of six times - he’d counted - studying them over and over for two weeks. The devil was in the details. He knew that ridge was not supposed to be there. He knew that better than anyone else. No one could tell him otherwise. No one would tell him otherwise. No one would dare to tell him otherwise. His knack and eye for detail made him the best in the field, which was why everyone had listened when he told them the environment in that area had been altered. He could see it; it was as plain as the daylight all around them. He pointed things out. Everyone had listened then too.

“You were right,” a blonde-haired woman said. She made her way up the slope from behind him.

“Right about what Sami?”

“About this place going through fundamental ecological changes. We’re picking up a disturbance in the earth’s crust, several hundreds of feet below the surface, straight on where the forest is growing greenest. It’s not due to any seismic activity in this area. Our machines haven’t recorded anything of that sort in the zone for years now.”

“That’s because whatever caused the cracks in the earth’s crust was not an earth tremor. It was man-made, probably a bunk buster, military class – A-type. You might have an eye for detail, Red but I’m the one who gives all that detail the finesse it deserves.”

“Are you sure about that, Roger?” Red asked, turning back to the forest. If a bunk-buster was used here that’s a serious accusation.”

“Yes, I know,” said Roger. He had a computer tablet resting along his left arm like a newborn baby. He never left home without it.

“The schematics of this part of the planets crust show recent cracks in several places. The source of the cracks starts from the greenest part of the forest. Whatever exploded crumpled the surface like dough, causing it to bunch up in several places all along this plain, forming mounds like this one. The forest and the surrounding area have been raised several feet into the air, opening the earth out. The dead matter underneath has been exposed to oxygen, causing it to decompose and release nitrogen that the plants are using for growth. The explosion has caused a multitude of chemical reactions, the excess nitrogen is just one of them.”

“All very technical. Thanks for the science lesson Roger but we still haven’t determined that it was indeed a bomb, military or otherwise,” Sami said, a touch of doubt in her voice. “We go back with that to the faculty, and we’ll be the butt of jokes for weeks.”

“Not if there is solid scientific proof to back up my claims,” Roger said, holding out his tablet. “Every explosive device has its own unique signature mark. Bunk busters, the new generation of bunk busters at least, are designed to leave most of the surface crust intact. Intact being that they try as much as possible to leave the targeted area as it was pre-detonation and by extrapolation, that particular areas eco-system. They detonate several hundred feet below the ground, collapsing any empty spaces you might have down there. Judging from the underground schematics of the region and comparing them from four months ago and today, several hundred cave spaces that were visible earlier, have disappeared. Red will back me up on that one, won’t you Red?”

Sami looked at Red.

“Roger’s right,” he said.

“Roger may be right but that still doesn’t answer the most important question,” Sami said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear before continuing.

“What would the military be doing on Gaia? Sure, we don’t have a standing army, but we don’t need one because if there was any kind of civil disturbance that required military intervention, the Emperor would simply send troops to quell it. We don’t have any such trouble here at the moment, haven’t for a long while. Why would they be down here?” she said.

“Beats me,” Roger said, swiping at his tablet. “I’m just a scientist. Maybe they’re doing what they’re always doing, testing out their toys in other people’s backyards. Would you do that on your own doorstep?”

“This is a game reserve. It’s protected by law,” Sami said. “Why do it here of all places?”

“Like I said, I’m a scientist. I’ll make sure to pass your questions along to the first soldier or Senator I see,” Roger said, still swiping at his tablet.

“Speaking of soldiers,” Sami asked. “When’s the last time any of you ever saw one?” Roger and Red looked at each other and then at Sami.

“Never,” they said.

“Right, because they don’t come this far for any reason other than the one I’ve already given,” Sami said.

“The evidence doesn’t lie, Sami,” Roger said. “We just need to gather more intel, and we’ll need to go into the forest to do that.”

“Agreed,” Red said. He reached down to pick up his gear, hoisting it onto his back. Sami remained with her arms folded, looking reluctant.

“Come on, Sami. Roger has a point. We need to get more evidence and down in the forest is where we are going to find it. I promise to make it worth your while,” Red said. “I’ll even carry your knapsack for you.”

“That’s a tempting offer,” Sami said. “I’ve carried it for the last two kilometres.” She started off down the ridge, parting the long grass with her gloved hands, whistling a tune as she went.

“Sorry old chap, but you did offer to be a gentleman,” Roger said, starting after Sami. “And she doesn’t pack light.”

Red sighed. He looked down at Sami’s knapsack and swore next time he would keep his mouth shut.

The ground leading towards the forest rose and fell, the large, scar-like cracks in the ground stuffed with molten rock and soil. Large puddles full of rotting debris were scattered throughout the plain in places where the ground had sunk in.

“The bomb must have caused the rocks and soil underneath to fuse together. That’s the reason for the fissures we’re seeing and how the plant and other remains underneath the soil are being oxidized. We need to watch out for any soft spots. Some of those are marked by the puddles, but there could be others that might have drained off, so just watch your footing. Once we get into the forest itself, we’ll be a lot safer. The collapsed cave system beneath the forest will provide us with solid ground, and the network of tree roots will support any loose soil. We still need to watch out,” Roger said. Sami walked ahead of him; Roger turned and smiled.

“How’s it going at the back, Red?” he teased.

“Don’t start, Roger,” Red said. “Keep your eyes forward, you might just slip into one of those depressions you’ve been talking about if you’re not careful.”

“Trying to spoil my fun, aye? If you ever get tired of being an environmental scientist, you could always become a pack animal, although I hear it’s a minimum wage occupation,” Roger said.

“Leave him alone, Roger,” Sami said, looking up as the trees appeared, masking the sky with their growth. They were now past the tree line. The air was noticeably cooler and the ground damper, rainwater still clinging to the leaves and cracks in the barks of trees. Meters of water submerged the trunks of a large number of trees, their lower branches, and leaves resting against the water. They climbed onto an outcrop of flat rock that gave them an aerial vantage point of that part of the forest.

“That’s a shitload of water,” Sami said.

“It’s a large sinkhole,” Roger said.

“You can be sure it’s full of water snakes and centipedes and other things that bite,” Red said.

“Would that include Vampires?” Sami said. She and Roger burst out laughing.

“It’s good to see the walk up here cleared both your heads,” Red said, handing Sami back her gear. “You aren’t usually so funny. I’m thinking this would be a good place as any to start documenting evidence to support our theory.”

“Agreed,” Roger said.

“We need to find a good place to set up camp,” Red said, looking around. “Somewhere the water won’t be able to get us.”

Sami pointed to a knoll of dry grass protruding into the air, several metres to their right.

“That looks like a convenient spot. Looks solid and high enough,” she said.

“We need to find out how solid. Most of the mounds in here are simply a loose collection of soil and rocks. The first onset of rain and they’ll come crashing down like castles of sand,” Red said. They left Roger setting up his equipment and proceeded to the mound, making sure to keep him in their line of sight. Overhanging branches and leaves dangled down, some right down to the forest floor. The supposed ‘bomb’ had widened the space between some of the trees. Fortunate for them, the path leading from the flat rock to the knoll was one of the places where that widening had occurred. They had a fairly unobstructed view all the way back to the flat rock.

“This forest looks like a documentary in high-def,” Red said.

“Or a scalp that’s received a dose of really good hair food,” Sami said.

“Amazing how you can come up with that kind of an example,” Red said.

“Because I’m a woman?” Sami smiled. “Isn’t that a bit sexist, Red?”

“No,” he said, stepping over a small, charcoal-colored puddle, islands of small matted grass and twigs stagnant on its surface.

“It’s the truth. Men and women think differently most times. Even though some men have man-tits, as a species we will never wear bras,” he said. Sami laughed softly and punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“Moron,” she said. They got to the grassy knoll, looking it over and poking it with their feet and tools.

“Looks solid enough,” Sami said, giving it a few stomps. Red put a foot out and then another, taking several more steps up the knoll.

“Certainly feels firm enough,” he said. “I say we go up a few more feet and pitch along those sand deposits. It looks pretty well-drained.”

They unpacked their gear, Sami handing Red one item at a time, who in turn laid everything out on the ground from left to right. He made sure again that they had everything they needed. He had gone on a lot of outdoor research expeditions and in the rush to get started, knew it was all too easy to forget the small, seemingly unimportant things that eventually mattered. They were a long way from the nearest sign of civilization, out in the wild with all the birds and the bees and other forest animals. He grinned to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Sami said.

“Nothing, just thinking how insane we must be to come out here,” he said.

“You need to go places you wouldn’t normally if you want answers,” Sami said, tying her long blonde hair back into a ponytail.

“And so, we’re here,” Red said, picking up a length of rope. “Right where Roger says a bomb exploded.”

“From what I can recall, those bunk busters aren’t radioactive,” Sam said, giving her pony-tail a slight tug. “If their aim is to leave the environment fairly intact, I don’t think leaving behind a radioactive signature would be a good idea.”

“Leave the environment intact? That’s a joke, right? Look at this place. It looks like the hand of God went raking through here,” Red said.

“Speaking of environment, are there any types of insects I need to be particularly worried about?” Sami said, picking up another length of rope. They would use it to cordon off the boundaries of their campsite.

“Yes, the snakes and centipedes I mentioned earlier. They come out when it rains, so just make sure you stay away from wet, dark, damp spots, and you’ll be ok. And as an extra, added precaution, we change into long-sleeved sweatshirts and extra-long boots. That will keep the creeping crawlies out of intimate places.” He walked over to a tree that had risen up with the surface crust and fixed a hook into its bark. The rope shone fluorescent red so they would be able to see it even in the poor forest light.

“I heard stories before we came out here,” Sami said. “Stories about wild men in the woods that ate human flesh and stuff like that.”

“I’ve heard stories like that all my life,” Red said. “Started out with the comic books, then television, when I was able to follow the late-night horror shows. Stories are a good way of keeping people entertained. I think it’s a case of mass hysteria with the farmers. A lot of things could explain what’s happening with them. Economic pressures, something in the pesticides they’re using for some of their crops. Something funny they’re smoking. Someone, maybe even one of their own, staging an elaborate hoax. It could virtually be anything.”

”You don’t think there is something that’s going bump in the night to explain the alleged thefts?” Sami said, fixing a hook into a second tree.

“There might be, but bigfoot?” Red scoffed. “Nah, I don’t think so. We all need to see to believe and prove our theories and beliefs. It doesn’t matter if we’re doctors, scientists, lawyers, detectives or even farmers.”

Red’s walkie- talkie crackled.

“You guys there? I can’t see you anymore, too much undergrowth, line of sight is kind of shrouded by vegetation,” Roger’s grainy voice was in sharp contrast to the quietness around them.

“Yeah, we only saw that after we’d reached the knoll. It’s stable enough, so we’ve decided to set up camp here,” Red said, rope in one hand, walkie- talkie in the other.

“I’ve made another interesting discovery,” Roger said. Red smiled at Sami.

“Sounds pretty smug to me, what’d you think?” he said to her.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing Roger,” Red said. “You were saying you’d made another interesting discovery. What is it?”

“More proof that the eco-system here has been fundamentally altered. You might notice the presence of Waya birds in the canopy above you.” Red and Sami looked up. The canopy was dark, the sunlight attempting to poke through a few gaps here and there.

“No, don’t see jack. Too dark and bright at the same time to see anything that small. Can’t hear them either,” Sami said.

“Very funny Sami. Well, I’ve seen a good number of them in the trees around this depression,’’ Roger continued. “If you’ll remember, Waya birds are usually found along coastal areas, deltas, river mouths, places like that. Their main diet is worms and subterranean grubs. It’s easier for them to get at their prey on account the ground is softer, easier to dig up, more likely to have humus, good living and breeding place for the prey in question. This forest is not a typical hunting ground for the Waya, but they seem to have made it their home.”

“And this is because?”

“You have a lot of surface water still stuck in depressions and refusing to go away. I thought this sinkhole was one huge puddle and would dry up soon, but from more studies of the area’s topography, the bomb must have exploded an underground river and re-directed the water closer to the surface. The large pond in front of me is one place the river has come to the surface. Mixing with the forest soil, it’s provided a suitable living place for damp-area organisms and consequently, the Waya birds,” Roger said.

“Now he does sound smug,” Sami said.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Roger,” Sami said. “Just make sure the birds don’t crap on that pretty skull of yours, it might get in the way of your thinking.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny again. Not,” Roger said, killing the connection.

“Let’s finish up here and then get back to the outcrop,” Red said, smiling. “It wouldn’t be wise to leave Roger to all the glory. His brain might explode at the end of it.”

14

THE RUSAMBA, VENUS MOUNTAINS, ARDOR

Chev peered through the glass at the face on the other side. It had its eyes closed, its arms folded across its chest, like a corpse in a fancy casket.

“It’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?” he said.

“No, I don’t think so,” the girl next to him said.

“Months in these stasis tubes, all because we need blood? It’s not fair. Don’t you think so, Anna?”

“No, I don’t Chev, and that’s the second time you’ve asked me that. If you feel so bad about it, then don’t receive any more blood rations. All the more blood-wine for us,” Anna said. She checked over the pod next to him. Her utility belt was strapped around her waist, and she held several small tools in both hands, balancing the computer tablet on her left arm.

“I need blood as much as the next person, which would be you,” he said. “But I’m just saying how crappy it must be to end up like this. A living, breathing blood bank.”

“Most of these guys have victims who I’m sure feel different. Don’t forget, Asylum was a maximum-security prison. The worst of the worst. We need blood, and under the circumstances, the sources don’t get any better than this,” Anna said, placing a screwdriver between her teeth as she ran one hand down the control panels of the pod she looked over.

“We’ve done things just as bad,” Chev said.

“In a time of war and to bad people,” Anna said, removing the screwdriver from her mouth and lowering her hand. She pointed the screwdriver at Chev.

“Like I said, lay off the blood rations if you’re feeling that guilty about it.”

Chev gazed at her for a few seconds, his eyes moving back to the body in stasis.

“On second thought, things could be worse,” he said.

“You remember how it was a few months ago,” Anna said, running a sleeve across her brow, a bright twinkle in her tired eyes. “It’s helpful not to forget that. Come on, we need to finish up here. Mavurama says he’s coming down and we need to prepare the other pods. According to Lieutenant Singher, we’ll be getting another hundred bodies or so. Same kind of backwater pond scum, so we need to get the deep cleansers ready, the antibiotics, as well as the prophylactics.” She moved onto the next stasis pod, talking as she went.

Chev gave the expressionless face behind the stasis glass one last mournful look before returning to work. Even though the body was for all intents and purposes unconscious, feeling nothing at all and if it were to wake at that very moment, would remember nothing of the time past, Chev was thankful he wasn’t the one in there. That was no way to live.

Mavurama stood on the main flight deck, studied his watch, and turned to his Second Lieutenant.

“Rath, it’s time. I’m leaving you in charge up here until I return.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Narok Rath said, holding out his chest as he saluted. Mavurama return saluted, a curt nod at his communications officer. Pang hurried after him as the doors opened and they stepped into the main corridor.

“Where are we going, Sir?” Pang asked.

“Down to the Stasis-Chamber,” Mavurama said. Soldiers and officers stood aside and saluted as he passed by.

“Do you think it was wise to threaten Callis and his gang, it being a first encounter and all?” Pang asked.

“Those brigands won’t hesitate to rip us off or turn us in the first chance they get. It’s best they realize from the outset that we are not people to fuck with, pardon my French, Captain Pang,” Mavurama said, smiling apologetically.

“You’re pardoned Sir,” Pang said. They descended another flight of stairs and were saluted by more officers and soldiers.

“It’s just that, well, we haven’t been discrete about our presence here and pissing off the local scum could be bad for us,” Pang said. “Just an observation, Sir.”

“Duly noted,” Mavurama said. “The truth is Callis knew who we were before we even got here. That’s why he was so desperate to have a meeting in the first place. He knows we need what he’s offering and he knows we can’t leave here without it. We’ll have to wait for the patrols to end, of course. After seven months of relative peace, I’m getting used to the idea of not fighting unless we have to. The flesh is willing, but my spirit is weak, and that’s where you come in. Like I said before, I need you to do the thinking and say the things no one else wants to. Superior thinking outweighs superior force all the time. Would I be bragging or simply stating a fact if I said we’ve proved that saying time and time again?”

“A fact and maybe just a little bit of the former,” she said. “But don’t you think we’ve made a deal with the devil Sir?” They got to the elevator located at the end of the corridor, watched over by four guards. They stepped in, the doors sliding gently back into place.

“We can choose to look at it like that,” Mavurama said, one arm resting across his chest, the other holding his chin. “Some might call us devils too. In the end, I think life sometimes boils down to a situation that’s basically better the devil you know than the one you don’t. Callis is a piece of scum, and one day, he’ll meet his end, but right now we need him to be the scum that he is. The ugly truth, Pang.”

The elevator came to a gentle stop, and they disembarked, a long empty corridor before stretching out before them. The walls glistened, white metal polished to a fine finish, cameras and motion sensors all along the length of the hallway; their presence already registered by the ship’s computer. They got to the two diamond doors leading to the Stasis-Chamber, the most heavily guarded and secure part of the whole ship. The six guards on duty moved aside as Mavurama neared, placing his palm on a side panel next to the doors on his right. The A.I. confirmed his ID; the doors opened, and he waited while Pang had her ID confirmed as well.

“Evening Sir, Madame.” A young woman stepped forward and bowed.

“Lieutenant Singher,” Mavurama held his hand out, and they shook.

“Everything is ready as you requested,” Singher said. Flights of stairs led up through the walls, tapering off into corridors that ran in separate directions. Large, larvae shaped pods lined the walls on one side of each corridor. Each stasis-pod was constructed of silver-white metallic panels, the entire chamber resembling some kind of alien insect hive.

“Keeping it clean I see,” Mavurama said as they walked up a flight of stairs. A door glided open, now putting them in the main chamber, more stasis-pods decorating the walls from top to bottom. A thick glass stood between them and the pods. “I wish the crew kept the rest of the ship this spotless.”

“We have to Sir,” Lieutenant Singher said. “The last thing we need is microbial infection getting into the pods. With all the jumping and moving through different star systems, the risk of contamination is real.”

Anna saw Mavurama through the glass and almost dropped her tablet. “It’s the Commander!” she whispered, looking away quickly. Chev looked around slowly. Lo and behold, there Mavurama was, Captain Pang standing next to him. Their supervisor, Lieutenant Singher explained something to both of them.

“What do you suppose she’s saying?” Chev asked.

“Probably asking him what he had for lunch,” Anna said.

“Very funny.”

“I know. Now get back to work so we can get out of here. I need some fresh air. Staring at all these faces is making me feel like a statute.”

“If I may ask, Sir, your orders had me a bit puzzled,” Lieutenant Singher asked.

“How so, Lieutenant?” Mavurama asked.

“Well, you asked us to activate the remaining atriums, but we haven’t used them in years. Four to be exact, ever since we left the planet of Dumeron. I just wanted to find out how many of them you wanted up and actually running.”

“All of them,” Mavurama said. Singher’s mouth fell open. She closed it quickly, babbling an incoherent apology.

“But Sir, that’s over two thousand pods! We only have five hundred bodies at present. We’ll need ten times the number of techs up here to look after that many pods!” Singher said.

“I thought the chamber is automated?” Pang asked. “Last time I checked it was.”

“Yes, it is Madame, but it’s not just that. The Chamber was built to handle that many bodies, but it’s the amount of pharmaceutical drugs we’d need that is the main issue. We just don’t have them in those quantities!” Singher’s eyes moved from Mavurama to Pang and back again, hoping one would reason with the other.

“Lieutenant Singher, I understand your concerns,” Mavurama said. “As Chief Stasis Engineer, I realize it is your main responsibility to see that the Chamber runs as smoothly as possible. If I got you the chemicals you need to cleanse and mix the blood-wine, would that smooth things over for you?”

Singher answered a quiet yes, still dazed by what she’d just been told.

“Excellent. You are to continue with your work, and I leave it to you to recruit more staff. I have no doubt there will be willing volunteers for such a noble task. Captain Pang will be your contact person. Please let her know if there is anything else you might need in the meantime.”

“Y-Y-y-es- yes Sir,” Singher said bowing, a fine tremour passing through her frame. “Understood Sir.”

Mavurama and Pang walked back to the ante-chamber, passing through the diamond doors, proceeding on to the elevator.

“Did you see the blood drain from her face?” Pang asked. Mavurama chuckled.

“She better get used to the idea,” Mavurama said. “A Stasis-Chamber operating at one hundred percent is going to be the norm around here from now on.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find that many bodies by the date we’ve set for departure?” Pang asked. They reached the elevator and stepped in, Mavurama casually noticing the subtle rise in temperature.

“We have to,” Mavurama said, the elevator humming as it moved along. “The journey is going to be long and difficult. It might be years before we get there. Two thousand bodies sounds about right to meet our blood-wine RDA for the duration of our planned trip. If getting there means never having to look over our shoulders for the Emperor again then it will all be worth it to me. Aren’t you tired of being on the run Pang?”

“More than you could ever imagine Sir.”

15

DUERO, PLANET ARDOR

The moon could not be seen. Even it feared to come out. It was the blackest night of the year yet. Mateo grabbed the medallion around his neck and uttered a quick prayer, his hands trembling as if from fever.

“Eternal god of the star-filled night, protect me from my mortal enemies and demon sight,” he kissed his medallion, hiding it back under his shirt. Religion was always seen as a weakness in his circles, even though they all prayed to their own gods in private. He smirked. They were all fools when he really thought about it. There were so many things they were frightened of, even the mighty Callis. Though they would never ever admit the fear to each other. They were afraid of getting caught by the authorities, afraid of rival syndicates taking over their trade territories and routes, afraid of this and afraid of that. Added to that long list was vampires.

Vampires. He said the word out loud, not believing it even though he could hear his own voice speaking it. On the edge of the Outer Planet belts, they all heard the stories. Nonsensical, every last one. Many secret cults in the Outer Planet that dabbled in human sacrifice; some of the other syndicates in the area even practiced it, in the stupid, unwavering belief that it offered them protection. Syndicates used it to instill fear in the local populations. The stories were no more than rumour mongering and more of the same endless, mindless exaggeration. But that was then, and this was now. They weren’t exaggerations. Not any more. The current story began in El Toro. Sightings of a strange star-ship and people who only came out only at night and disappeared into the shadows as dawn approached, afraid that the sun would burn them.

He’d been in one of the local brothels, chatting up one of his regular girls when another girl burst in, screaming and running off at the mouth about demons in the mountain. No one paid her any mind, but some more girls had come into the brothel, claiming they too had seen strange lights in the mountains. His curiosity got the better of him; he and some of the other patrons ventured out to take a closer look, promising to slap the shit out of the girls if they were lying when they got back.

They walked up the mountain for over an hour before they finally saw it, shadowed along the rocky cliff edges, straddled by snow-filled clouds. Some of the men wanted to take a closer look. That’s when they noticed the figures standing in the forest paths, leading up to the mountain. The figures said nothing when spoken to. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; a wind blew, picking up strength. Clouds formed around the top of the mountain, intense flashes of lightning coming from within them. He’d seen enough. Duero had no such storms at that time of the year.

The next day the ship had disappeared, but the stories now said the monsters lived in the old ruins deep within the mountains. That was a story he had no intention of authenticating. He knew the ruins in question and the incident surrounding them. They housed the remains of a long-dead drug cartel that made the mistake of abducting a Minister’s teenage daughter. The girl had been returned to her parents safely, but the father would have nothing short of pure retribution. The Imperial Army went in, slaughtered the entire cartel and razed their building to the ground, their corpses still inside. That episode sent the message clear across time and space that certain lines existed that one did not dare cross, ever.

Callis called a meeting later that day. He’d heard about the newcomers and as usual, heard opportunity beckoning. He ordered Mateo to find out exactly who these strange people were. Mateo had done so reluctantly. When Callis wanted a job done, it was best you complied. He had quite the temper. He’d seen Callis bust knees caps and smash hands to a pulp in silent rage.

The required information was hard to come by; he had to grease palms in a way he never would have imagined. What had made it so difficult was separating fact from fiction. He finally managed to strain out all the relevant details from a seething mass of bullshit.

The Vamps were ex-marines on the run from the Emperor Sardonia’s Special Forces out of a little known planet called Dumeron. They were a splinter group, a break-away faction from a much larger group. He’d learned of military activity in some of the Outer Planets…Special Forces activity, hunting down the other remaining splinter groups. Whatever the reason behind the apparent run down, it appeared to be one of the Universe’s best-kept secrets. He figured it had something to do with the War in the Belts several years ago.

He passed all this information and more on to Callis. The part that interested Callis more than anything else was that the ex-marines needed blood and needed a lot of it. Everyone on Duero had heard of the recent assault on Basongo, but it was Mateo that tied it in with similar, earlier incidents all over the Empire and the extra security at blood banks and prison facilities. That was all Callis needed to hear. The Vamps wanted blood, and they needed bodies to get it. Callis dealt in bodies of all types; he would surely have something for the Vamps. He had Mateo try and set up a meeting with the leader of the Vamps, a shadowy figure by the name of Mavurama. He tried a total of ten times before the Vamps finally decided to play ball. He walked to the foot of the mountain, night after night, with an escort of two men and spoke to the figures that stood guard in the trees. They never said anything, simply walked away abruptly. During his final attempt, one of the Vamps approached him. The Vamps didn’t show their faces. High-tech combat helmets kept them hidden. The vamp that approached him removed its helmet. The blood chilled in his veins as he saw the fangs and crimson eyes.

“Tell your Master we’re ready to talk,” she said. Mateo nodded and rushed back down the mountain as fast as his freezing legs would carry him. After that, it had simply been a question of arranging a time and place for the meeting.

He stopped momentarily and looked down the street. Long shadows cast themselves across the busy boulevard, the light from the streetlights pushing the darkness back into tight places. He had seen the face of evil, an evil he thought never existed. The stories were true, and he wished to his gods that they weren’t. He’d heard other stories too...stories about man-eaters....

He said another prayer, trudging up the street. The final pieces of their deal with the Vamps needed to be smoothed out. After that, it was all a matter of waiting, watching, and hoping that things went as planned. He branched off the main street, down a dim-lit alleyway, peering up through the fire escapes above. Dark clouds drifted through the sky beyond, blotting out the stars. He picked up his pace, the alleyway empty, steam rising in little wispy strands from the ground. Bright lights loomed up a few metres ahead, cars zooming past. He reached the sidewalk, stopped, checked both ways, and crossed the road towards the doors of the club. The long queue at the door yelled at him as the bouncers stood aside and let him through. He turned around and made a face; more insults were hurled his way. He laughed and made his way across the dance floor, threading his way through the thick, bustling crowd of human bodies. A flight of stairs stood directly in front of him, spiraling upwards, like a gigantic metallic beanstalk. He got to the top and saw Callis, wine glass in hand, sitting at a see-through table covered with dozens of bottles of liquor. The girls stretched out all over the chairs winked, waving him over.

“Mateo!” Callis called as Mateo approached. “How are you?”

Mateo gave a tight nod, his hands by his side.

“Fine,” he said.

“You don’t look too good. Pale. Like a dead fish,” Callis said, smacking his lips. “Been spending too much time with our mountain friends, have you?”

“Yes, but only because you wanted me to,” Mateo said. Callis’ smile fell. He drained his glass, placed it on the table and stood up, smoothing down his tie and suit jacket, jerking his head sideways.

“Let’s go,” he burped. He motioned at two men standing on his left.

“Beck, Alan, on the door.” The two girls sitting with him stood up.

“Not you!” he barked. ‘What are you, high or something?”

Mateo thought the question was rhetorical and unnecessarily cruel. The two girls looked like they had just been slapped in the mouth, shooting back down to the chair. Their expressions reminded Mateo of puppies scolded for stealing cookies.

They disappeared into a side room, Beck and Alan remaining guard outside.

“How’d it go?” Callis said. They were in one of Callis’ many offices located throughout Duero. He made his way to a small mini bar on the left, poured himself another large drink, and walked towards Mateo slowly. Callis had a high tolerance for alcohol. It was probably the reason he had never seen Callis plastered, even though Callis drank like a fish. A big fish.

“May I sit down?” Mateo asked.

“What the frak for?” Callis said. ”You have legs.”

“And an ass,” Mateo settled himself into a leather chair, stretching his legs out. Callis leaned on the edge of his huge mahogany desk, looking down at Mateo.

“Oi!” Callis yelled, snapping his fingers. “Today, man! What happened?”

“I gave them the lists yesterday like you said. They were still checking them out this morning, verifying the targets. Thorough bastards, I’ll give them that,” Mateo said.

“And organized. We could learn a thing or two from those freaks,” Callis said.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mateo asked. “Can we trust them? What’s to say they won’t add us to their body count? They did it to the other syndicates, even before we made the suggestion to them.”

Callis' lips pulled back into a devilish grin to reveal teeth, bleached and polished to a pearly white finish. His eyes shone brightly with the glint of madness brought on by one too many drinks.

“These freaks may be freaks, but they are first and foremost marines. They have a code. Protect the innocent, fight for justice, honor the uniform, crap like that. The Syndicates are the exact opposite of everything they stand for. We live for a code, just not one as boring as our friends in fancy helmets. We live for ourselves and what we can get out of this life before we’re too old to enjoy any of it. By giving them the list of the other players in this game, we kill two birds with one stone. The competition disappears without a trace, and we don’t even have to take the blame, because there’s no evidence pointing back to us,” Callis emptied his glass with a loud burp, smacking it on the desk he was leaning against with a sharp clink. “How great is that, huh?”

“Ok,” Mateo said. “What else?”

“Secondly, we provide all the bodies Mavurama needs to drain, cut, whatever the fuck Vamps do to bodies to get the blood out. What’s most important is that we’re taking the focus off us. We don’t incur his wrath because, as far as he’s concerned, every criminal out here has it coming. We’ve offered the others up as sacrificial lambs. Better them than us, I say.”

“Finally, the blood-suckers need us. Who else is going to get them the names they need? No else thought about approaching them, everyone else was too scared. We’re the middlemen, and Mavurama’s moral code prevents him from dealing with any more of our type. He’s not stupid, on the contrary he’s a practical man. He knows him, and his motley crew are wanted people. Every moment they spend out here is a moment they risk getting caught. In times of need even the devil eats flies.”

Mateo still wasn’t convinced.

“But what’s to stop them from turning on us once this whole thing is done and dusted?” he asked. Callis made a face, his mouth turned down, his eyebrows raised.

“Nothing but if he tries, then it will be the first mistake he makes,” Callis said, his face hardening. “Besides, I don’t think he will. Two thousand bodies is a lot of blood and bones. If he wanted more, he would have asked. He’s got his bodies. Whatever he’s planning, it doesn’t involve us.”

“Do you know what that is?”

Callis slapped his cheeks.

“I’ll be damned if I know. Tried to find out, but that’s like trying to get wine out of a milk bottle. Whatever it is, it’s one of the Universe’s best-kept secrets.” Callis was back at the mini-bar, pouring himself another drink. He walked back to his desk, the glass already half empty.

“As long as they’re paying, I don’t give a rats ass what their end game is,” Callis said, swatting the air with one hand. “These have got to be the richest vampires I’ve ever met, and I haven’t met any others. If all my customers paid like they did, I would have gone legit a long, frakking time ago. I might just do that now. We wouldn’t want the Vamps coming back later on and someone else selling us out, would we now?”

Mateo stared at Callis. He still worried this whole thing might come down on them like a ton of cement bricks. He wasn’t sure how the Vamps accessed their blood supply. It might have been by way of needles, but he’d seen the fangs. He raised a hand to his neck and gave it a reassuring rub. Callis didn’t seem to be fazed at all, taking huge swallows of his drink, already going back to his mini-bar for a refill, an empty bottle in one hand.

“No, Sir,” Mateo said. “We wouldn’t.”

16

GINNER AVENUE, UPTOWN MUZU, MUZU, PLANET GAIA

The windows were open wide, a potted Aloe Vera plant on the sill, a wind blowing past it and into the room. Captain Gamin gazed at the rumpled cloud bank in the distance. A range of tree-covered hills stretched across the horizon, darkened by shadows, the brown-green earth sprawling back and forth between him and those hills. The City of Muzu reflected the sunlight back into his eyes, and he continued to gaze at the city in all its intricate detail.

He pulled at his tie, the damn thing was choking him, looking away from the window. He was hungry; he’d been out the whole morning and lunch seemed like a long time ago. His body had already broken down his two hamburgers with a healthy side order of chips and his stomach was letting him know that. He felt the gentle rumbling, a hand moving up to his abdomen. His eyes fell on his refrigerator, and he remembered the yoghurt six-pack he’d bought a few days ago but never got around to eating. That was baby food; it would soon be burnt up as well, but at least he would have found some real food by then. He got to his feet, a knock on the door forcing him back into his chair.

“Captain.”

“Lieutenant Lin, I’m so glad to see you.”

Lieutenant Lin closed the door behind him gently, a faint look of surprise on his face.

“You are Sir?”

“Yes, I am.” Gamin pointed at the fridge. “Could you please retrieve the yoghurt six-pack from the fridge for me? And grab one for yourself while you’re at it.”

Lin reached into the fridge, removed a tub from the pack, and set the remainder on Gamin’s desk.

“What’s that file in your hands?”

Lin sat down in a chair to Gamin’s left.

“A missing person’s report. Came in a few minutes ago.”

“What’s so special about this one that you had to bring it to my attention?” Gamin asked. “We have a task force set up for that. Unless we can actually put a name to these people and they’re not simply another John or Jane Doe. I don’t have time for anything else.”

“They’re not,” Lin said. He opened the file and held it out with both hands for Gamin, who reached for it, already reading the pages out loud.

“Dr. Red Nhlane, Environmental Scientist, Dr. Roger Nkhoma, Environmental Scientist, both from Creed University, reportedly went missing on the 4th of this month.” Gamin lowered the file, placing it on his desk. He looked up at Lin.

“That was what? Five days ago?” he asked. Lin gave an affirmative nod.

“They went missing from the Amber forest. That’s a long way off from the city. Who reported them missing?” Gamin asked.

“Dr. Samantha Gana, Geologist. The three were on a research expedition when the incident took place.”

“Incident? What incident?” Gamin asked. The question was directed more at himself than at Lin. Gamin glanced back down at the file and continued reading.

“They were attacked by tall figures in the dead of night, her two colleagues being pulled underground?” Gamin pointed at the file, looking up. “Is this for real? Isn’t this woman just in shock? It says here she walked all the way back from Amber Forest and was picked up halfway. That’s at least a day’s worth of walking. Dehydration, sun overexposure, hunger!” He pointed at his pack of yoghurt.

“She was sedated and questioned after she rested, a decent meal tucked away. She’s adamant that’s what happened, and she’s sticking to her story.”

“How do we go from Does to people with names? Being dragged underground? It sounds like...you know what it sounds like,” Gamin said, reaching for his pack of yoghurt, removing one tub with a sharp snap of bending plastic.

“What have we done so far?”

“We have detectives on the scene like yesterday,” Lin answered.

“Good. Let’s go. When this gets out, it won’t do so nicely. We need to know what’s happening exactly before we decide to say anything to the press. Frakking press.”

* * *

Wispy columns of steam rose from the ground, tall grass surrounding them shrouded by thin strands of white cloud.

“Why is it so bloody hot? I thought this is a damn forest? Aren’t the trees supposed to cool everything down? Or are these genetically modified too, like everything else these days? And what’s with the fog?”

“I don’t know Sir. I never was very good at science,” Lin replied. Gamin wiped the back of his neck with a handkerchief.

“Where’s the girl?”

“Behind us, other side of the tape.”

“Bring her here. I need to hear this with my own ears, and visual effects will help me make sense of the story,” Gamin said. Lin turned and waved his hand. A female officer brought Dr. Samantha Gana over, Gamin looking at her closely. She looked fine, but still waters did run deep.

“I’m concerned that you might not be ready for this, Miss - I beg your pardon, Dr. Gana,” Gamin said, “so I’ll ask you again: are you sure you want to be here? You were in a bad state when you arrived in the city.”

Dr. Samantha Gana raised her chin defiantly, her eyes burning bright, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Was in a bad state. Anyone would be too if they’d experienced what I did.”

“That’s the other part I don’t understand,” Gamin said, loosening his tie. “Your car is not where you said you left it.”

“Whoever attacked us must have taken it. There’s no other explanation.”

“Fine,” Gamin said. They stood in a reasonably dry clearing, much of the forest floor covered in mud, the same mud they’d picked up on their way over here. It clung tenaciously to their gumboots.

“Ok, this is where you say your friends were abducted, correct?” Gamin asked, his eyes skimming the surrounding. A helicopter cut through the sky, officers walking through the undergrowth, continuing to look for any other pieces of evidence that might lead them to the two missing scientists.

“Yes. The ‘men’ or ‘things’ came up through that cluster of puddles underneath that clumps of trees on the right,” she said, pointing to several pine trees, “grabbed Red and Roger and dragged them back down,” Dr. Gana closed her eyes briefly. “They didn’t look human to me, more like animals, but they walked upright, tall, and muscular. Their movements were awkward, kind of like they had trouble with their joints, but they still moved pretty fast,” she opened her eyes.

“You say this was as the sun was setting?” Gamin said. “In the twilight?”

“I’m not stupid, Captain. I realize what you are trying to say without saying it. That there wasn’t enough light for me to see what really came out of those puddles, that I was hysterical. That’s the shit you people always say. Two of my friends are missing, so please, don’t tell me what you think I saw, especially since you weren’t there. We cook up food, not shit like this,” Dr. Gana said. Gamin smiled.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Dr. Gana, but you have to understand the nature of procedure makes it repetitive, condescending and unfeeling at times. I need to ask impolite questions, insinuate things, things that might insult your intelligence and integrity. If I don’t, other people will, and they’ll ask me why I didn’t ask you. Why I simply took your word for it, especially under the circumstances. Just making sure we cover all the bases,” he said, his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer.

“I understand, Captain,” Dr. Gana said, her eyes misty, her lips trembling. “Are you going to find my friends? We were checking out the cracks in the ground here when it happened and...” her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away with her hand as they started to spill over and slide down her cheeks; Lin handed her a handkerchief. She thanked him and apologized for being overly emotional.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Dr. Gana,” Gamin said. “Your friends were abducted, that’s something no one should take lightly. We’ll do our best to find them. I just need to ask you, though. What kind of research were you and your colleagues conducting in the area?”

“The Amber Forest is just one of several wildlife reserves Creed University uses for conducting field research. It’s part of an on-going program to monitor flora and fauna in the environment and to make sure that eco-systems remain intact, for the preservation of all the animal and plant species in the area. Some of our instruments picked up strange seismic activity in this area and several other game reserves several months ago. We came out to take a closer look, and that’s when we discovered that something had altered the environment.”

“Altered like how?” he asked.

“If you look around, you will notice the surface crust is broken in several places, large sections lifted up, other areas exposing the ground underneath, others under metres of water. Up until a few weeks ago, the surface crust was intact and fairly smooth in comparison.”

“What caused the changes?” asked Lin.

Dr. Gana looked at Lin and Gamin, her eyes moving back and forth between the two. She lowered her eyes, staring at the ground, hesitant to answer the question.

“Dr. Gana, the more we know, the better placed we are to understand why your colleagues might have been abducted,” Gamin said. Dr. Gana raised her eyes, looking directly at Gamin.

“Roger, Dr. Nhlongo, had a theory that the surface crust had been shattered by a military-grade bunk-buster bomb. It was a crazy theory, but it was the only one that made sense. We were in the process of gathering data to support his theory.” She laughed softly, more at herself than at anything else. “Hearing myself actually explaining it to you makes it sound even crazier but like I said, it was the only thing that could explain the anomalies we saw out here. The evidence wasn’t lying.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gana. You’ve been a great help,” he said. “If we need anything more, we will contact you. Don’t worry, we’ll do all we can to find your friends.”

Dr. Gana was led away from the crime scene by the female police officer assigned to look after her. Lin looked around and leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice.

“This is too much of a coincidence for it not to have a connection with everything else that’s happened,” he said.

“You sound excited, Detective,” Gamin said.

“I’d be crazy not to, don’t you think, Sir?”

“Yes, but we still have two missing people out here somewhere, people with names. It’s only a matter of time before word starts getting around of their disappearance and then we have a real shit fest. All the stories about monsters in the night will take on a fresh, a new lease on life and actually gain some credibility.”

“But isn’t it the truth, Sir?” Lin said, a look of surprise spreading across his face. “The reports of missing equipment and tall woodmen in the night. Dr. Gana’s account of how the same tall figures abducted her colleagues, her missing car and computer equipment?”

“I’m seeing everything from your angle Detective, but there is the problem of evidence. We still don’t have anything to tie to anyone or anything. In the meantime, what are we doing to trace the two missing Doctors?”

“We’re trying to get divers to go back down the ponds, but that’s proving difficult. There’s nothing down there but slimy mud. I doubt even a mud-hopper could find its way through all that crap.”

“But an earthworm could,” Gamin said. Lin looked puzzled.

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“Just thinking out loud Lin.”

“Right, Sir. Do you think Dr. Gana’s recollection is accurate then?”

‘Dr. Gana is without a doubt an attractive woman. Brains, beauty, booty, guts, the whole package, not a bad deal. But in the few minutes I came to know her, I know she is no liar. She says those things came out of those ponds, then those things did come out of those ponds. No two ways about it. We need to know what side of this thing we’re on, right from the beginning. Lines are going to become blurred quickly. Stay close and pay attention, and you’ll get to see just how quickly.”

A uniformed officer approached them.

“Captain Gamin, Mayor Coleho is here and requests that he sees you right away, Sir.”

“Speaking of liars, Coleho is the best I’ve ever met,” Gamin said.

“What’s the Mayor doing out here?” Lin asked. “I would say that was pretty fast.”

“A politician smells opportunity blowing on the wind like a shark tastes blood in the water. He’s probably here trying to work his usual angle,” Gamin replied. “Let’s not keep the man waiting.”

They followed the uniformed officer back to the boundary of red police tape that marked off the crime scene. They found Coleho standing next to a tall, dark-haired woman in civilian clothing.

“Who’s the chick?” Lin whispered. “Never seen her before.”

“Neither have I, but I guess we’re about to find out,” Gamin answered.

“Captain, Detective. I hate to drag you away from your work. I realize that this is an active crime scene, but I had to come down here as soon as I heard the news. Drs. Nhlongo and Nhlane are respected members of the academic community. Young, energetic, determined. They provide invaluable services and knowledge to that same community. Finding them is of the utmost importance,” Coleho said. It almost sounded rehearsed, but Gamin knew Coleho wasn’t only a gifted liar but a gifted orator as well. He could talk himself out of difficult situations if he tried hard enough. He wore his usual light tan suit, white shirt and dark blue ascot with gold polka dots, wrapped snug around his neck and throat. His gold watch gleamed in the light that caught it, plastic covers on his handmade leather brown shoes. Coleho’s appearance was a point of pride for him.

If only he could show as much commitment to his job as Mayor, Gamin thought.

“Coleho, we know all that, part of our job description,” Gamin said. “Why are you really here, and who is this?”

“You’re blunt, Captain,” the woman said.

“I have a job to do. And you’re getting in the way,” Gamin said flatly.

“This is Captain Capri Tuli, Special Forces, based at Fort Rionga,” Coleho said, his voice shaky.

“That’s all the way in Hanu,” Lin said. “You’re a long way from home Captain.”

“It’s the truth, Detective,” Tuli answered. “We don’t have time to dilly-daddle, so I’ll get straight to the point. The Military has been on Gaia for close to three years now. We haven’t made our presence known for obvious reasons…and some not so obvious,” she looked around before she continued, making sure there was no one within earshot.

“These not so obvious reasons would be what exactly, Captain?” Gamin asked.

“We are tracking a group of ex-soldiers, soldiers who don’t officially exist because they operated behind the scenes.”

“You mean Special Forces, like yourself?” Lin said.

“Yes, and no,” Tuli answered. ‘These soldiers were of a different sort. They were faster, stronger, bigger than your average marine. That was what made them special and extremely dangerous. They are known as the Carni, created for a covert military project deployed during the Belt Wars. They put an end to that war, and then things went downhill from there. That was when I and my people stepped in. We’ve been hunting them from one star system to the next. We finally tracked them to here, but they haven’t been easy to rein in. Evasion is one of their fortes, and the conditions that exist on Gaia are the exact kind they trained for.”

Gamin turned to Lin, Lin raised his eyebrows, a silent conversation passing between the two. It was all starting to make sense now.

“What are the Carni exactly, and what do they have to do with what’s been going on?” Lin asked.

“Before you answer that, more important is the reason they went rogue in the first place. If you fix that, you wouldn’t have to hunt them down,” Gamin said. “Whatever happened all those years ago has brought these Carni to our little neck of the woods. I want to know what set this whole thing off.”

Tuli appeared unmoved.

“Sounds fair enough,” she said without the slightest hesitation. “ After the Warlords in the Belts were defeated, the Carni wanted independence. The war was over, and there was no more use for them anymore. They were allowed to remain in certain areas of the Belts, and the Government on Eboracum had no problems with that. Some people, however, thought it a bad idea letting such dangerous ‘assets’ remain unchecked. Some feared it was only a matter of time before the Carni became mercenaries. In a nutshell, they were a problem just waiting to happen. That couldn’t be allowed. I was given orders to bring them in after their independence was revoked. They fled the Belt region, and the rest is history. The Carni are, to answer your question, Lieutenant, killing machines, pure and simple. I don’t know how else I can put it,” Tuli said.

“How does that, fit in with everything that’s been happening? It has to, or you wouldn’t be here,” Lin said. “Simply stating they’re killing machines presents more questions than answers. No killings have been reported so far. The only thing being reported are disappearances, both men and women and heavy-duty equipment and computers, stuff like that.”

“The Carni’s main source of food is animal protein. This explains the presence of a system of networks underneath several forest reserves, planet-wide-“

“Are you serious?” Gamin said. “We’ve been living with these things right underneath our feet all this time, and you didn’t think to tell us?”

“This whole project was classified right from the start. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you anything even if I’d wanted. And truthfully speaking I didn’t. But things have changed, and we can’t keep you guys out of the know any longer,” Tuli said. Gamin said nothing and Tuli continued.

“The networks of burrows run for hundreds of miles, about a hundred feet down,” she said. “We’ve never been able to penetrate more than a few feet; taking on the Carni in those conditions is a sure-fire way to a Colombian necktie. The only other option was to use bunk busters.”

“So,” Gamin said, “Dr. Gana and her team were on to something.”

“Precisely, which is the other reason we felt had to step in at this point,” Tuli said. “The public cannot know of our presence here, or the existence of the Carni.”

“How do you suggest that’s not going to happen?” Lin asked. “The public has a right to know. You’re convinced the Carni are extremely dangerous and from the way you’ve just described them, I don’t doubt it.”

“The decision to share this information with you was not reached lightly,” Tuli said, her hair combed down to her shoulders, cupping her face from both sides. “My superiors were reluctant, but eventually realized there is no way to end this without local assistance. If the public did find out the truth about what is happening here, it would make our job of stopping this thing all the more difficult.”

“We understand Captain,” Gamin said. “Please go on.”

“The missing equipment is used mostly for tunneling. We aren’t too sure what the other stuff might be for; it’s something we’re still trying to figure out.”

“You’ve explained the disappearance of the hardware, now the software,” Gamin said. “The Does and the Doctors.”

Tuli stared at Gamin.

“Cat got your tongue, Captain?” Gamin said. “You’ve come this far, it would be a shame to stop now.”

“I mentioned that the Carni’s main source of food is animal protein,” she said slowly. “The game reserves give them unlimited access to that food supply. There is another vital protein source and core to their existence. Human flesh.”

Gamin and Lin stared at Tuli, their eyes registering disbelief but Tuli plowed on.

“There is a certain RDA of human flesh the Carni need to consume. Human flesh is where they get their strength from. It’s what allows them to move faster, be stronger than your average soldier. It’s how they’ve been able to lift most of the heavy-duty equipment that’s been reported missing. It also helps them maintain their full height of seven feet,” she said.

“Why on earth would you people do such a screwed up thing to begin with?” Gamin said, a puzzled, look on his face.

“During the war, we needed a fail-safe switch and something to motivate them at the same time,” Tuli said. “They were allowed to keep their kills. The need for human flesh drove their kill instinct. On our part, it was a form of control. If they were deprived of human flesh, we could give orders, and they would follow in exchange for their pound of flesh.”

“That’s messed up, lady,” Lin said.

“I agree, Detective,” Tuli said. “Believe you me, I know just how messed up. I’ve spent the past four years hunting them down.”

“If that’s the case, what chance do the two doctors have of being found?” Gamin said. “Alive?”

“I won’t bullshit you, gentlemen,” Tuli said, “We don’t know. We found human remains in some of the cave networks we managed to excavate, the Does that have been disappearing over the years. Now they’ve abducted people who will be missed. That might have been a slip-up, and hopefully because of that, the two men will be kept alive.”

“You’ve talked about how dangerous these things are,” Lin asked. “How smart are they?”

“Smart enough but not rocket science smart, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tuli replied.

“If they’ve avoided capture all these years, they sound rocket smart to me,” Lin said.

“Easy Lin,” Gamin said. “Captain Tuli here is on our side.” He looked at Coleho. “Did you know about this, Mr. Mayor? You’ve been quiet this whole time, I think it’s about that time for your contribution.”

Coleho looked as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole at that very moment.

“I did, but as you’ve heard for yourself, the nature of this information is sensitive,” he said quickly.

Typical Coleho, thought Gamin. Always knows how to get out of a tight one.

“Will it be necessary for me to mention that you may not discuss the contents of our conversation with anyone else, apart from myself and the Mayor?” Tuli said.

“We know how to keep secrets, Captain,” Gamin said. “The job demands that we do.”

Tuli smiled.

“We’ll be in touch, Captain. My people will contact you back in the city, iron out some kind of mutual, working arrangement,” she said.

“We’ll be looking forward to it,” Gamin said. Tuli and Coleho left without another word, taking a path that led to the forest edge and the plains and waiting aerial vehicles beyond.

“Can you believe this Captain?” Lin asked, trying hard to control his enthusiasm.

“I have to. If I don’t, we won’t be able to do our job,” Gamin answered. “Tuli just filled in a lot of blank places. Everything makes perfect sense now, but wow! That was the last thing I expected! Just when I thought all those monster stories were a bunch of undeniable crap!”

“My thoughts exactly Sir,” Lin said, staring at the ground. “Dr. Gana and her team were right.”

“Right on the money,” Gamin said.

“Do you think the Carni kidnapped Doctor Nhlongo and Nhlane because they were getting to close to the truth?”

“Here’s what I think. I think the Carni kidnapped the two men because it’s something they’re used to. They’ve been underground too long, they’ve flipped, like the frakking king-sized, human-eating hamburgers that they are. Or it could simply be that they grabbed two people who they thought were Does like the rest of their victims. There’s a lot to figure out here and it’s pretty clear to me that we need the Military to rescue the Doctors. There is no way we’re doing it on our own. Coleho is a good liar, but so is Tuli. She hasn’t told us the whole truth about this. I’ve been doing some heavy digging over the past week, and I uncovered some pretty interesting things.” They walked back to the main crime scene, a lot of officers moving around the forest area, still looking for what could be important clues.

“What could be more interesting than this, Sir?” Lin asked.

“You know how ripe with drug and human trafficking activity the Satellite Belt is?”

“Yes. The Syndicates run the supply lines between the Inner and Outer Planets, using the Satellite Belt as depots and staging areas.”

“Correct. I learned through my contacts there they’ve had their own disappearances down there. Some of the local thugs have just up and vanished. People in military gear appearing out of thin air and taking these criminals away.”

Lin’s eyes widened.

“Another military operation?! But how would that be connected with this one?” he whispered.

“I have no idea, it’s all being hushed up. Word on their streets is vampires need the victims for blood. Reminds me of the same things we heard right after the Belt Wars ended. Stories of vampires and man-eaters roaming deep space, settling on Satellites. The authorities haven’t really bothered with the Satellite Belt until recently. It’s seen a lot of imperial traffic in the past couple of months.”

“So, what? You think there’s a connection between the stories of the vampires and the Carni?”

“There has to be. Like I said before, there’s a lot Tuli’s not telling us.” They were back at the puddles where the two doctors had disappeared. A diving team was readying equipment. Lin staring at them as they donned their diving gear.

“What do we do now?” he asked his boss. “Going down those puddles isn’t the smartest thing to do knowing what we know now.”

“We abort. Tell them we’re following a new lead and have them re-pack their gear, no questions asked. We’ll think of something more creative when we get back to the city. We need to do this right. I just hope Tuli was truthful when she said we needed to come up with a mutual, working arrangement.”

17

MKABELA, FORT YAHUMA, PLANET NIARA

Captain Ruvuma stepped off the elevator, together with Second Lieutenant Lakato. The elevator opened directly into their underground facilities, which consisted of several labs, docking bays, storage areas, and an electric underground rail system connecting the different sections. After checking through security, both officers made their way up to the main deck station and boarded a waiting cab.

“Laboratory,” Ruvuma said to the young pilot behind the controls.

“Yes, Madame.”

The cab ride was just under fifteen minutes, but it felt much longer to Ruvuma, who itched to get things underway. She knew military operations weren’t things you rushed. That general rule applied to everything in life. She was just eager to see how much progress had been made on this particular project. A lot rode on this undertaking, and the General counted on her to make sure it was a success. There was no room for failure, even though the high possibility of failing existed. That realization made her all the more nervous.

“Janet,” Lakato said. “Relax, all that leg work is bugging me out.”

“Sorry,” she glanced down at her foot and stopped the tapping, something she had been doing subconsciously, illustrating just how deep-seated her fear of failing was. Everything going on in the lab for the past five months was the mission. All the intel gathering, the time spent waiting for the right moment, it all came down to what lay a few metres away. Ruvuma had basically put all her eggs in one basket. It had to pay off, or they would be further behind than they’d ever been.

“It’s just that the General has put a lot of trust in me, letting me proceed with this,” Ruvuma said. “To think that he even allowed me to get the words out of my mouth, sit and listen as patiently as he did, was completely...ah, I don’t even have a word for it.”

“Beyond belief,” Lakato said. “I never would have believed it either but having reached this stage…well, you know what they say: seeing is believing.”

The cab pulled up at a brightly lit platform, the neon light bouncing off the white tiles. Guards on duty saluted, punching both officers through. The corridor leading to the lab sectioned off into four parts, each separated by a sliding glass blast door. Two of the guards escorted you in and stayed with you every step of the way, each door sliding open only after ID verification. General Namoto only allowed the whole project to begin when he was satisfied with the security protocols.

They got to the fourth and final door. The guards returned to their duty post and would return when Ruvuma had concluded her business there.

“I doubt even the Emperor has security as tightly knit as that,” Lakato said.

“No, his is worse,” Ruvuma said. “The guy’s a true paranoid.” They burst out laughing but regained their composure quickly after remembering they were there on official business. Both walls on their left and right were blank, white marble from top to bottom. They crossed the empty space that separated them from several glass windows and a single glass door immediately opposite.

“I feel like I’m in shoebox every time I come here,” Ruvuma said.

“Walking on eggshells again, J,” Lakato said. “I repeat: relax. That’s an order.”

“I wouldn’t mind you giving orders,” Ruvuma said. “It would take some of the pressure off my ass.”

“J, I do give orders, just not to you,” Lakato said. Ruvuma chuckled.

“All the same, I will try to comply.”

“Think of it more as a suggestion.” They got to the glass door; it opened automatically and they stepped over the threshold, the air much cooler than it was outside.

“Remind me next time to bring a jacket. I keep forgetting about the sudden temperature drop,” Ruvuma said. They stood in a large room, dozens of computer monitors on either side, cables, and wiring disappearing into the ground like giant, synthetic earthworms. The figures seated at the consoles turned and jumped to their feet, hands raised in salute.

“No need for anyone to stop on my account,” Ruvuma said, raising her voice. “Please, continue with your work. That’s way more important than my presence here.”

A large, irregular shaped hexagon stood in the center of the room, people in white lab suits gathered around, surgical tools and instruments in their hands. One of them lowered the surgical mask covering their face.

“Captain Ruvuma.”

“Doctor Khama,” Ruvuma said, almost absentmindedly. Khama followed her stare.

“It’s almost ready Captain, no need to worry,” Khama said, removing her surgical gloves. They were stained with blood, the drops running like tears down her finger and pooling at the tips. She dropped them into a steel-bin under a worktable behind her.

“How soon is ‘almost ready,’ Doctor?” Ruvuma asked, her eyes still moving back and forth along the operating table.

“I can’t say, but before our agreed deadline,” Khama said.

Ruvuma finally looked up at the doctor.

“That’s good, Doctor. I didn’t come to give you the squeeze, just to see the progress. Intel came in that suggested we might have to move things up a bit. Your news is more than welcome.”

“Thank you, Madame. We’ll let you know when it’s complete. That will allow you time to make suggestions,” Khama said.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ruvuma said. “Now I will let you get back to your work.”

Ruvuma and Lakato returned to the main floor, making their way to the central command station.

“Madame, this came for you while you were away.” She opened the folded piece of paper that had been handed to her, reading it quickly.

“Thank you, Sergeant Kurtis.”

“Sergeants Dali and Vitosis are back,”

she said, turning to Lakato. “I hope they have good news for us.”

* * *

Captain Ruvuma met with the two sergeants once again in her private quarters, Lakato standing behind her captain’s chair.

“Sergeants, how was your trip back?” Captain Ruvuma asked.

“Hectic, a lot is happening out there, Madame,” Sergeant Vitosis said.

“We’re all ears,” she said. “Please proceed Sergeant.”

“We ran Callis Khan’s image through the Imperial Crime Database and got a hit. He’s a long time known smuggler, anything from small children to arms and illegal asteroid diamonds. Deals with anything and almost everything. Like the other crime lords on the Satellite Belt, he’s been laying low for months, on account of the patrols we mentioned in our last report. He’s been successful in his earlier attempts to meet with the Vamps. During the last two weeks he’s had several meetings with the Vamps, one confirmed meeting with Mavurama,” Vitosis said. Ruvuma tensed visibly. Vitosis glanced at Lakato, who simply smiled for Vitosis to continue.

“We confirmed that the Vamps were indeed meeting with Callis’ people and that Callis was eager to reach some sort of deal with Mavurama. It seems that the Vamps are looking for more bodies,” Vitosis said.

“More bodies for what?” Ruvuma asked, a puzzled look on her face. “Are they running out of blood?”

“I doubt it,” Vitosis said. “When Mavurama and his army first got to the Satellite Belt, they weren’t reluctant to let the locals know who they were. Most of the people in Duero had never heard of the Vamps; the closest thing were stories of a group of devil worshippers who ate flesh and drank blood roaming the Universe. The picture in people’s minds was not one of ex-marines in combat gear packing heavy ordnance. The version that most people believe now is the Vamps are badass ex-marines who only come out at night and will not hesitate to cut you up if you cross them. A lot of people are not aware of the blood requirements of the Vamps because they don’t believe Mavurama and his crew are really vamps,”

“So how do you know they need bodies?” Lakato asked. “How would Callis know that’s what they would need unless Mavurama told him he needed them? I doubt Callis is stupid, he must have figured it out somehow. I never underestimate the criminal mind, as full of shit as it is.”

“It’s more likely that Callis put the pieces together from the stories going around,” Dali said. “Why we think Mavurama is not running low on blood is because when the Vamps first arrived on Ardor, there were reported disappearances all on the neighbouring satellites of Dhine, Orb, and Veer. The disappearances were deemed at first to be all gang-related. The people were all known criminals. No one was going to miss them too much, if at all. But the question on everyone’s mind was: where were they disappearing to? The Syndicate bosses were all scared, pointing the fingers at each other, accusing each other of trying to take over rival operations and muscling in for new territory. When it became clear to the Syndicates it was not one of their own responsible for the disappearances, the field of suspects narrowed down. They put out the word across the entire Satellite Belt about a reward for anyone who could provide information on the whereabouts of the missing associates.”

“Did that produce any results?” Lakato asked.

“Yes it did,” Dali said. “The answers all pointed to the Vamps. It didn’t take the Syndicates too long to tie the ends together. Some of the crime bosses wanted them turned into the authorities. Others thought doing so might make things difficult for everyone involved. It’s not like the Syndicates have clean hands themselves. Another option was to strike a deal with the Vamps, ask them what it was they wanted. As I said, no one believed the Vamps were actually vampires.”

“So how does Callis find himself at the thick of things with Mavurama?” Ruvuma asked.

“Callis’ syndicate is one of the biggest on the Satellite Belt and the Outer Planets,” Vitosis said. “It’s comparatively better organized and more efficiently run than the others, placing him at the top of the supply chain. And making him one of the most powerful crime bosses in that part of the Empire. Turf wars have been on-going for years; nothing too bloody, but there is a desire for more power on the part of each crime boss. Callis has been pushing for complete control of the trade but has been at a loss of how to achieve it. The deal he struck with Mavurama has something to do with that, but we aren’t exactly sure how. Right now, that’s all we managed to get, I’m afraid,” Vitosis pursed her lips. “But we know whatever is going down is happening soon and it involves the Vamps. We observed a beehive of activity in the recent weeks between a road leading from the base of the mountain and a rendezvous point for the Vamps and Callis’ people,” she added.

A cocky smile spread on Ruvuma’s face.

“Then we’ll have to move up our timetable and get the ball rolling. Once again, good work Sergeants. I need you to return to Duero. Continue observing events on the ground and make sure your cover remains uncompromised. The last thing we need is Mavurama up and disappearing before we are ready to take him on. We’ve put too much work into this to let that happen now.”

With the two Sergeants gone, Ruvuma noticed how parched the back of her throat was. She got up and fixed herself and Lakato a drink from the table behind her desk. She handed Lakato her glass and started pacing up and down the room. She glanced up at the ceiling, fixating on a single spot. The hand holding the glass of ice and whiskey rose slowly, finger tips wrapped around the base, the other tucked behind her back.

“The pacing up and down says it all,” Lakato said, leaning back against the table. “It all seems like déjà vu, but it isn’t. Life just has a way of being repetitive.”

“Practice makes perfect, and practice is all about repetition,” Ruvuma said.

“Tell that to my grade school English teachers,” Lakato said. “They hated repetition in stories and who doesn’t? Detention and writing the same crappy words over and over again until your fingers ached made me a firm hater too.”

“You’re right, we have done all this before, and even though you and I may not see it, we’re getting better at it.”

“Getting better at what, J? Backing Mavurama into a corner? He’s getting just as much practice at getting out of those corners. Like a rabbit being chased by wild dogs.”

“Wild dogs or not, this is where we finally give him something to remember. This will be the one time he remembers things were different,” Ruvuma said. She stopped in front of her smart screen, boxes of different star systems lining the board from top to bottom.

“You really believe that little science project of yours in the lab is going to do all that?” Lakato brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“I do. That and a whole lot more,” Ruvuma took a small sip of her drink. “Our window of opportunity is closing fast. We’ll need to launch our attack soon. If the Vamps made no attempt to hide their presence on Ardor, the only reasonable conclusion is that Mavurama knows we’ve known about his presence on the planet for a while. We would be foolish to think otherwise. It comes as no surprise that he’s planning something big; I suspected it for a while.”

“The Sergeants’ report says the disappearances number close to five hundred. That’s a lot of bodies and a lot more than they’ve ever taken all at once in the past,” Lakato said. “Would they have enough storage on their ship for that many?”

Ruvuma put her glass down on her desk, walking over to the smart screen. She tapped it in different places; the star charts snapped shut, and a schematic of two star-ships popped into their place.

“You recognize the one on the left?” Ruvuma asked Lakato.

“Yes, it’s a standard military deep space transporter, a hyper-SCB,” Lakato replied.

“It’s the exact same type that the Mavurama’s army and the other vamp leaders escaped in from Dumeron. As you well know, we’ve upgraded them in the past three years following the rebellion,” Ruvuma said.

“The one on the right, I don’t recognize that as being one of ours,” Lakato said.

“That’s because it isn’t. Or at least, not anymore,” Ruvuma said.

“I don’t follow,” Lakato said.

“For a while now, I’ve suspected that Mavurama may have altered the original design of the Scarab. What got me thinking in that direction was the changes we saw to the jump drives on some of the Vamp ships we’ve chased. We traced that particular signature back to Mavurama’s ship.”

“Those changes were what allowed him to pull off the last five blood-seeking missions,” Lakato said.

“Exactly. So I figured there had to be other significant changes, changes that make his ship difficult to track. Would explain why it takes us minutes to pinpoint an exact location even when we know the ship is within proximity. If it was the original SCB he was using, then tracking him wouldn’t have been a problem. Hunting down the other Vamps has been a lot easier because they haven’t made many changes to their ships internal or exterior structure,” Ruvuma said, pointing at the ship schematic on the right. “This is what Mavurama’s ship looks like now.”

“It’s been a while since we laid eyes on it,” Lakato said. “Are you sure?”

“Admittedly the intel is old,’ Ruvuma said. “But the Intelligence Unit is positive.”

“It’s an impressive looking ship, much larger than our own SCBs. That could house at most seven thousand troops,” Lakato said.

“Those were my estimates too. It's therefore likely they have more than enough room aboard their ship for the five hundred extra bodies they recently acquired.”

“Five hundred plus the two hundred they got last time from Basongo is a total of seven hundred,” Lakato said. “From our raid on his labs on Dumeron, we know that the blood filtration process technique Mavurama was working on improved the process, producing what the other Vamps we apprehended call ‘Brack-Vinta.’ It’s more potent than what they were consuming during the Belt Wars and can be produced in larger amounts. Those two hundred bodies from Basongo are most likely still meeting the Vamps blood requirements, but that was a while ago. Makes sense why he would need the extra five hundred. That brings us back to the question: what on Singularis does he want with more bodies if we assume he already has that many?”

Ruvuma raised her left hand, rubbing the fingers together thoughtfully, the other arm drawn across her stomach, resting just below her breasts. She stared at the smart screen, a frown on her face.

“If I recall correctly, we discovered a prototype for a new stasis chamber during that raid on Dumeron, one that was in line with his new brack-vinta producing technique. Our conclusion then was that there must have been one aboard the ship as well. It’s the only way Mavurama’s group has been able to survive. It has to be way bigger than the ones we’ve found in some of their cave dwellings on Dumeron. If the intel supports the theory that Mavurama is looking for more bodies, we have to conclude that there is indeed a Stasis-Chamber aboard his ship,” Ruvuma said. She stopped and lowered her arm slowly, suddenly appearing confused.

“J, what’s wrong?” Lakato asked, concerned. “You look like you’ve seen something not nice.”

“No, not that. It was something you said last time we met with Sergeants Vitosis and Dali,” Ruvuma said, staring at the floor.

“I said a lot of things, most of it not on record,” Lakato said.

“You said suppose Mavurama is planning to enter the Empty Space outside the Satellite Belt?” Ruvuma spread her arms out wide. “I mean all this activity on his part, the meeting with Callis, which is very atypical Mavurama…the boldness of their last mission on Basongo, the five hundred or so extra bodies they’ve taken. It sounds like an end game to me. If they are looking for more bodies, then they could have enough blood rations to last them years.”

“Or enough to last them on a long trip,” Lakato said.

“A trip to where?” Ruvuma said, pressing her palms together, staring down at her hands. “We need to get to Ardor. The only way any of this makes sense is if Mavurama’s attempting to make his last stand and I’ll be damned if I’m not there to stop him.”

18

KAZUMBA GAME RESERVE, PLANET GAIA

He picked up the steak knife and cut through the two-inch slab of meat gently, careful not to scratch the porcelain plate underneath. He sliced again and stabbed a piece lightly with his fork, lifting it slowly to his nostrils, running it under his nose and breathing deeply. He placed it in his mouth, his teeth clamping down, pulling the fork back, closing his eyes and chewing. Ah, satisfaction, pure and simple. Meat. Everyone loved meat.

“Don’t we look merry. And to think food can do all that.”

He opened his eyes.

“Evening Lydia,” he said. “The meat is the best I’ve tasted so far. My compliments to the Chef.”

“Compliments to the Chef or to the guys down in Detox? It always tastes better when we’ve flushed out the impurities,” she said.

“A combination of factors then. This person had to be young in years, not long enough to completely corrupt their flesh with offensive habits. Individual personal idiosyncrasies always determine how good they will eventually taste when they finally end up in the pot. And last, but not least, the Chef’s touch, which is truly Midas in this case,” he placed another piece in his mouth and smiled. The meat was well done, just the way he liked it, crispy on the outside but not overdone, juicy and succulent on the inside. In another hour he’d feel on top of the world. That was important. Hard and trying times were yet to come. He would need every scrap of energy presented to him. He looked down at the steak covered in a delicate dressing of sweet, garlic sauce. It was one of the few things that made all the hassle of avoiding detection and capture and hiding like rats underground worth it. It would soon be over, and they wouldn’t have to look over their shoulders for much longer.

He put his knife and fork down and wiped his mouth with a vanilla coloured napkin.

“So, what do you have for me? Were my orders carried out?” he asked her.

“They were,” she answered. “But if I may ask Zael, what is the logic behind abducting the two lab coats? It’s just going to draw more attention to us. Hasn’t it always been the first rule to avoid that as much as possible?”

Zael leaned back, the leather chair pushing outward from the pressure of his large frame.

“It’s quite simple, dear Lydia,” he said. He rubbed his hands together, talking through a mouthful. “We’ve been here for a while now. During that whole time no one has ever been the wiser to our presence, except maybe for the Special Forces and a few of the locals, whose stories of bigfoot in the woods have never quite been taken seriously. They hunted us, are still hunting us and we’ve been on the move constantly. It was fun for a while, but we’ve all agreed that it’s getting old. Personally, I’m tired of not being able to enjoy good food all because the thought of another bomb crashing down on me is lurking in the back of my mind. The Military is determined to get us. They’re improving their bunk buster technology. The bombs are burrowing deeper and exploding with a wider blast radius. That fact alone makes it impractical to stay here. All the theft and disturbances over the past few months have the city riled; the farmers haven’t stopped bitching. That’s got the Mayor and police busy, trying to convince an agitated citizenry that everything is under control and there is no threat to their safety busy prowling in the shadows. The Does were not really going to cause much of a concern; the death or disappearance of outcasts in any civilized society rarely does. It worked out for us. We’ve had a steady supply of meat and no one’s complaining about empty stomachs. The two doctors, on the other hand, have names and people who care about them. Their disappearance, especially in such a bizarre manner, will work up a furor, which is what we need to buy us time to put the final touches to our plan.”

“Zael, the only thing this abduction has done is draw more attention to us. I’ve been listening in on the wireless. It’s on every news network out there!” Lydia said. “I don’t see how that buys us more time if people know we exist and there’s an eye witness to that fact!”

“A woman, who wandered for days in the wilderness, until she made it back to civilization? A woman, distraught and who may have seen things in the forest darkness that weren’t really there? Maybe her mind made all that up as she wandered back home. Scared. Frightened. Alone,” Zael said. “Some people will take her seriously, some won’t. Human beings are like that. For a species that claims to be so smart, they can be quite the opposite. Most times they are the exact opposite. Their uncertainty, their feeble mindedness that will work to our advantage.”

“The Military has increased its bombing of our underground networks over the past few weeks. I ask again: do you think this was really the right time to abduct people like the doctors?”

Zael nodded

“Precisely, you’ve just said it yourself. They’ve increased the bombing, something they wouldn’t do if they weren’t feeling the pressure to contain the situation. They’ve tried to keep us a secret for a long time; now they have to deal with the public fear of something that might be a real threat. We know we aren’t, but the public doesn’t know that. The public’s volatile emotion is a membrane we can stretch and warp. We also have to understand that the Military is probably wise to the fact that we are no longer the dull, laboring killing machines they designed us to be. That’s something that keeps them awake at night. The public’s fear will re-direct their attention away from us as long as it persists. They will expound their energy and time quelling those fears.”

“Well you’re the boss, and so far it’s worked out, so I’ll say no more,” she said, still sounding skeptical.

“Your input is important, Lydia. A pack is only as good as the leader’s decisions. There’s no way I can know there are potential flaws in those decisions if they aren’t highlighted. Can I depend on you to keep me in check?”

“Oh, I’ll definitely keep you in check,” Lydia laughed. “You need to finish your meal, though. Our guests are waiting for you, which was what I came to tell you.”

“Fine,” Zael said, picking up his knife and fork again. “I hope they’re being given five-star treatment.”

* * *

“Where the hell are we?”

“Believe me, if I knew, I would have told you the first two times you asked,” Red said. He stretched out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “It looks like some kind of ship. You hear that humming sound?”

“No, I don’t. What kind of ship is this? Not any I’ve ever seen before.”

“That’s a shock coming from you Roger,” Red said. “I thought you were the know-it-all when it came to hardware, military or otherwise. You’ve certainly spent a lot of time hacking into a variety of databases, military included.”

“You think this is funny, Red?” Roger sat with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. “Need I remind you that we were kidnapped? The last thing I remember is huge hands dragging me down a filthy mud puddle.”

“Filthy and here we are smelling as fresh as a basket full of roses,” Red cupped his hands together and ran them across his face. “Aaah.”

“I don’t remember that part. Which means we were obviously unconscious when we were taken out of our clothes. Who knows what they could have done to us the entire time.”

“Relax,” Red said. “It could be worse.”

“It could get worse. We haven’t seen the end of this,” Roger said.

“Well, worrying about that isn’t something I think we should do. We have a table laden with food, which is pretty good by the way. You should try some. It’s been an hour since my last meal, and I’m still ok. You’re hurting yourself by not eating. The sugar will take the edge off your nerves. I’d start with the chicken.”

“It’s shocking to me to see how you don’t take any of this seriously.”

Red giggled.

“Worrying about it isn’t going to make it any less of a mystery. We spent a long while looking for a door. We spent a lot of energy doing that and the whole while, all that delicious food stared back at us. It smiled, I smiled back,” he said.

“How nice for you,” Roger replied, a sulky look on his face.

“Whoever put us in here will come back for us. Sit back, eat, and relax. It’s the only way to avoid indigestion. Haven’t looked for the toilets yet,” he laughed.

“Damn you, Red! This isn’t funny!”

“But it is,” Red said, his hands folded behind his neck, his attitude cavalier. And why not? They were dressed in sparkling white shirts and trousers, glossy black house slippers on their feet. Their beddings were all silk, and everything felt and smelt like it had recently been washed. With scented fabric softener, could you believe it? The pillow he rested against was as soft as the rest of his beddings and had a similar silk casing. He closed his eyes, thinking nothing but happy thoughts. For all his whining, Roger was right, of course. It was a strange thing that had happened to them, but he was convinced that it was not necessarily a bad thing. Whoever abducted them had done so for a purpose. There was no way of knowing what that purpose was until their captors decided to reveal themselves and make their intentions known. They both panicked the first hour; funny enough, whoever had abducted them had decided to leave them with their wristwatches on their arms. After the second hour, Red had made the unilateral decision to go with the flow and accept his predicament. He looked over at Roger; he was obviously still having a hard time adjusting.

He remembered being grabbed by the feet first, losing his balance and being dragged backwards, his hands clawing at the soft, decomposing forest floor, trying desperately to grab something solid. The cold chill of the water as his feet entered first was numbing, remembered the strong, vice-like grip around his ankles as he tried to break free. The last thing he remembered before being totally submerged under muddy water was the look on Sami’s face as she screamed from what seemed miles away, the blood draining from her face. He had managed to scream “Run!” before finally being pulled below the surface of the puddle. He’d heard Roger’s screams, but they sounded like they were from far away too. And then nothing. He woke up staring at the ceiling, like he was doing now, feeling better than he had in months.

A slight hissing sound coming from somewhere in the room caused him to jack-knife, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Roger jumped to his feet and backed up against the wall behind their beds.

“What the hell was that? A snake?” he asked. Red frowned at him.

“You see any snakes in here?”

“Maybe it’s in the wall, and it’s coming to eat us,” he said.

“Or maybe it saw all the food you haven’t touched and decided to drop in and help itself,” Red said.

“Very funny, Red.”

The hissing stopped, replaced by a machine sound, like gears of an engine sliding and moving into place. A dark circle appeared on the floor, beginning to rise slowly.

“Looks like a telephone booth,” Red said. His heart raced; he wasn’t afraid, not yet anyway.

“What kind of telephone booth is that big?” Roger said in the same whiny voice he’d had for the past hour. His face and lips turned white, and his lower lip quivered uncontrollably. Red figured telling him to relax was about as useful as telling him to grow an extra set of balls. He decided not to. Roger never could remain calm in stressful situations.

The booth slowed its ascent, the humming, hissing and machine noises died down. It was made of white metal, just like their beds and the rest of the room. A blue flash of light appeared down the middle of the eight-foot booth like some kind of giant metallic egg. They had to shield their eyes from the bright light pouring out. Red could feel the light on his skin, a subtle but discernible sensation. He waited for it to fade. He opened his eyes, one at a time, lifting them slowly. That’s when he heard Roger scream.

He scrambled up from his bed, almost tripping in his haste.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Roger!” Red whispered, standing next to his friend, his back up against the wall, wishing he could simply pass through it.

It stood to a full height of about seven feet; the booth from which it had emerged obviously designed with the present user in mind. It donned a military uniform, patches of dark grey and black. Big, black heavy lace-up boots covered its feet, its hands wide with very finely chiseled claws at the end of each finger. It was the face Red couldn’t pull his gaze away from, especially the eyes. It had a full shock of hair, combed back, reaching down to its shoulders, glistening as black and shiny as a starry night in sharp juxtaposition to the room’s white glow, its skin a pale shade of chestnut brown

The eyes. The eyes were brown-amber and burned like polished stone. It stepped out of the booth, one giant foot at a time, deliberately taking its time. It took a few more steps into the room, a slight smile on its face.

It was built like a damn rhino and probably weighed just as much. Red could feel his teeth grinding against one another, his balls contracting and pulling inwards.

“Gentlemen,” it said. “No need to look so alarmed.”

Red opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat was dry. He closed his mouth, forcing spittle back into his mouth and tried again.

“You talk?” he asked.

It chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re humanoid,” Red asked. “What species?”

“First things first,” it said. “My name is Xolani Zael. I already know your names, and I assure you, gentlemen, I mean you no harm whatsoever. You have my word on that.”

“And what word would that be? We don’t even know what you are, so why would we even trust you?” Roger said.

Zael smiled wider, his lips pulling back, revealing razor-sharp, inch-long canines in his lower and upper jaws.

“Fear makes people say a lot of impolite things. The good thing is I understand how you feel, proof I hope, that even though I look quite different from you, there is still a commonality on which we can build a mutual understanding.”

“Fine,” Red said. “You use big words and talk like a poet. We need more proof than that.”

“Haven’t I already shown you more than enough?” Zael asked, still smiling. “You have been looked after. Your clothes changed, food laid out on the table here. I’m sure anyone else in the entire city, the five-star hotels included, would be hard-pressed to match our accommodations. Do you need any other proof?”

“More wouldn’t hurt,” Roger said. “Unless you want to tell me you use those claws and teeth of yours for sharpening pencils, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“I’m impressed. I’m here less than five minutes, and you can put all that together,” Zael said. “And as far as good faith goes, if I’d wanted to, I could have rushed over their quicker than a fly and ripped your guts out, turned the rest of you into a fine fillet steak. You wouldn’t have felt a thing.” Zael’s smile fell. Roger swallowed hard. Zael burst out laughing.

“I won’t do that of course,” Zael said, poising himself. “I’ve proven you can trust my word and I already said I wouldn’t harm you. Secondly, I’ve already eaten.”

“I hope you’re full,” Red said. “What was for lunch?”

“A heavenly steak, adorned with a dressing that was equally out of this world,” Zael closed his eyes, exhaling deeply, a sheepish grin on his face.

“What are we doing here?” Red said, walking slowly back to his bed, never taking his eyes off Zael, who still stood in front of the booth.

Zeal pointed at a chair at one end of the buffet table.

“May I?” he said.

“Sure,” Red said, wondering why this thing was asking for permission from its captives.

Zael pulled the chair out from the table, steering it around until it faced Red. He sat down, crossing his legs, his hands resting in his lap.

“The chairs are reinforced to hold our weight. The question passed through your mind, I know,” he said. He glanced at Roger.

“Won’t your friend join us?” he asked.

“Roger, come and sit next to me,” Red said. Roger stepped forward silently like an obedient school child, his eyes downcast, shoulders raised. He sat down next to Red, his hands pressed between his thighs, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“When the wars started, we knew the fighting would end, but we never saw this coming, finding ourselves where we are now,” Zael said.

“What war are you talking about? As far as I know, there are no active wars taking place anywhere in the Empire,” Red said.

“There is one. A silent war. You are surrounded by belligerents, and you don’t even realize it,” Zael said. “But I’m not talking about that war. I’m talking about the Belt Wars.”

“That was over five years ago,” Red said.

“Six years,” Zael corrected him. “I’ve been keeping count, believe me.”

“You’re saying you fought in those wars?” Roger said, looking up, finally snapping out of his mime act. “They were pretty bloody.”

Zeal smiled harder at that.

“You have no idea how bloody,” he said. “We served under the command of the Nosferatu. Brilliant strategists, loyal and tough as razor claws, right down to the very end. Not as powerful as us, but still no push-overs, believe me. They could have taken us on any day if they’d wanted to, but they weren’t our enemies, and we weren’t theirs. We were brothers.”

“What are you talking about?” Roger said. “Nosferatu? As in vampires? Bloodsuckers?”

“Precisely,” Zael answered.

Roger looked at Red, Red lifted his hands, turning them outwards.

“After the Belt Wars were over, the Emperor wanted to wipe us out. Totally erase us, like we didn’t matter, like we hadn’t done everything he’d asked of us,” Zael said. He sat less than five feet away from them. Red couldn’t get over his massive frame and stiletto nails. He could have killed them in an instant, just as he’d said earlier. But Red believed him when he said he wouldn’t. An intelligence stirred behind those eyes that was clearly above average.

“So we fled. Have you ever stared into the eyes of your makers and seen such a terrible truth?” Zael asked them.

“My parents wanted me,” Red said.

“Same here,” Roger said.

“I envy you,” Zael said, an almost dreamy look in his eyes. “We’ve been on the run for five years. Unexpected surprises along the way. Like our new found mental abilities.” He looked away from them briefly, staring down at the floor.

“You will set us free. You two. You will be the reason we get away from here. We haven’t harmed anyone we didn’t have to. But we needed to do what we have to survive. It was how the Emperor made us. We’re smarter than we were all those years ago and I know that was something they didn’t expect. You will be released without further ado, not a single hair on your scalps touched. I apologize for the snatch and grab, my troops can be a bit overzealous sometimes. This will be good for everyone. No more stealing, no more hiding in the shadows. But you have to leave very soon. They’re coming with more bombs, and this time the bombs will get a lot further.”

“The Military! You’re talking about the Military!” Roger said excitedly.

“Yes,” Zael said, standing to his feet slowly. Roger jumped off the bed and put a hand on Zael’s large arm.

“No longer afraid, are we?” he said, amused.

“It has to wear off sometime,” Roger said. He looked down at his hand and removed it quickly.

“Sorry, but you just can’t leave like this, without telling us the rest,” he protested.

“But I’ve told you more than most people know,” Zael said.

“You spoke about secret wars,” he said to Red, “and I said there is one, about that I’m telling the truth. Ask Captain Capri Tuli, and she will tell you what you want to know. She has all the answers. I must go now.”

Roger took a step after Zael, but Red put grabbed his arm.

“Let him go,” he said quietly. “He’s pointed us in the right direction. We know where to go from here.” They watched as the booth opened and Zael stepped inside, a hand raised in farewell.

“Farewell Gentlemen,” Zael said. “A message for Captain Tuli: We are not all animals. Looks can be deceiving.”

19

DUERO, PLANET ARDOR

Captain Andrew Dean lit another cigarette, the tobacco catching, tossing the match into the ashtray on his desk with a light flick of his wrist. He pulled at it slowly, watching the smoke rise casually. It moved in snake-like twists and turns, up past the light fixtures, up, up and away, finally dissipating. His eyes dropped back down and focused on the wall space beside the door. His thoughts were adrift like his cigarette smoke, and on a similar train, going nowhere in particular.

He was tired, more tired that day than any other in the past five months. His job was becoming complicated in a simplistic way, if that made sense. When he first came to Duero with his young wife and two little children, it had been the right move. It had been the best move. The Satellite planets were not exactly backwater, but they weren’t the pinnacle of modern civilization either. They were okay planets, nothing grand or spectacular and for that reason alone were the almost perfect place to raise a family. Almost. And he had. His two daughters had just graduated from college and had their own decision to make, whether or not to stay on the Sat Belt. They probably wouldn’t; most graduates moved off into the Inner Planets, where life was fast, glamorous, and high. He wouldn’t hold it against them if and when they did decide to leave, but he knew life on the Inner Planets had a way of changing people in a bad way. That fact was part of the reason he and his wife decided to leave Singularis and settle on Ardor.

Thirty years on, and now Captain Dean was tired. He had a right to be, he thought. He was old, and he’d been fighting crime, keeping the peace and the streets of Duero safe all that while. It was no small secret that life in Duero was boring and uneventful, which was why it was not a place many people wanted to come and stay. But there was one group of people for whom Duero’s calm and casual setting were an attractive thing. The Syndicates. His face darkened. Pieces of unadulterated shit. The entire Satellite Belt Security Force was in the middle of a periodic sweep of the system, flushing out the gangs and all the other scum that took advantage of the sector’s laid back atmosphere. They were, of course, hiding like tunnel rats; they always did, which made it almost impossible to catch them. The authorities would make a few arrests, get even fewer convictions but the scum would be back after all that wasted effort, right back to doing what they always did. And the chase would continue.

Nonetheless, Dean liked Duero. Always had, always would. No planet was paradise. Every place had its own set of unique blemishes. But the Syndicates were more than just a blemish; they were a permanent stain that refused to disappear, no matter how hard you tried to wash it out. He resented them for that deeply.

He pulled at his cigarette again. He would have to wash the smell out of his mouth before he got home or he’d give his wife something to nag him about for the rest of the week. Dean looked at the cigarette, staring at it like it was something offensive. He sniffed, took one last pull and stumped it out in the ashtray, grinding it into the glass bottom. Smoking was something he did when he was agitated. It took the edge off the nerves. It was better than drugs; drugs just messed you up. Proof of that was all around, so he didn’t need to be reminded.

He licked his lips, reached for the jug of water on the table beside him, and poured himself a cup. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, trying to get rid of the heavy, dry, and oppressive taste of tobacco. He swallowed, put the cup back down, and leaned back in his chair.

The Syndicates had made his job over the years a real challenge. More so when they got bigger, more organized, more ruthless, more efficient, more greedy, more stupid. Most of them came out of the Inner Planets, where demand for contraband like recreational drugs and prostitutes was insatiable…another reason why he’d left that place. People in the Inner Planets had more money than they knew what to do with and did not shy away from giving in to their desires, no matter how base or degenerate those desires happened to be. The Syndicates took advantage of those proclivities. They were sometimes a challenge he would rather not have, but the ironic part was they made the job interesting. Dean spent many nights and days trying to figure not how to stop them, that would be wishful thinking, but how to instead get them as far away from his backyard as he possibly could.

Events in the past three months were some kind of answer to his prayer. At least that was how he chose to interpret them. He smiled. That was how his wife chose to interpret them. The representatives of five crime organizations had come to him. To him. They were the Khatoes, the Dows, the Eisures, the Gians, and last but not least, the Vollmers. All five families ran strip and gambling joints in Duero’s red light sector. He hoped they were coming to hand themselves in, but that was asking for way more than the Universe was ready to give.

They came into his office, looking grave. He offered them tea, but they refused. They weren’t there for biscuits either, they’d said. Vollmers’ rep had done most of the talking. An arrogant young man whom he’d run into many times over the last couple of years by the name of Tao. Tao was straight to the point and direct. They wanted the disappearance of legitimate employees to stop. The Police and Government were violating constitutional rights. He would have laughed at that if they hadn’t seemed so serious.

Dean looked calmly at Tao, or ‘Hot Flash’ as he was commonly known among his associates, and told him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Hot Flash had narrowed his eyes, held up his hands, and told him to should stop jerking them around. He’d told Hot Flash quite sternly that he would never, ever think of doing such a thing and had smiled at his own pun.

The Eisures’ rep, another young man called Jimion, politely said they weren’t there to make trouble, but that they were raising their concerns over the illegal abductions of their members over the past few weeks. He’d told them that again he had no idea what they were talking about. They would have known about any arrests made on the part of the police and subsequent detentions, that he could promise.

As much as he didn’t like their type, there was such a thing as due process, and he was bound by the law to uphold the same law in its entirety. He invited them to take a look at his holding cell or any other place they thought their colleagues were being detained. They instantly refused, formed a little circle, whispered among themselves, got to their feet, shot him venomous looks and left without another word.

He had his Sergeants look into the whole incident, and that’s when things began to make more sense. About fifty employees from the different crime families had gone missing. Just up and disappeared from the Red Light District in the past weeks. He initially thought it was infighting within the families, they did that sort of thing every now and then. They tried every single time to get his office to take sides. He consistently refused to do so. If they wanted to end each other, then by all means, end each other. Dean didn’t care about that in the least. As long as it didn’t involve innocent civilians, he was happy to fold his hands and watch the sparks, bullets, and brains fly.

Except this time, it wasn’t a simple matter of in-house squabbling. What was happening here was much bigger and sinister than simple turf wars. He’d made a suggestion to one of his detectives investigating the case that perhaps the missing were disgruntled employees and had said enough with this gangster shit and just quit. That could have been a possibility, was his detective’s response, if the disappearances weren’t across the district and all around the same time. It was too much of a coincidence.

Ok, maybe the Syndicates had offed the missing people themselves. Cut them into tiny pieces, fed them to wild animals, sent them to the bottom of some lake in a cement tuxedo. Now they bitched about it to make it look like they were free of any wrongdoing when the police did find the bodies. Another possibility, his detective replied, except mass executions across the board were highly unlikely. The detective had not found any evidence to suggest any motivation behind that kind of action.

He looked down at his ashtray. He was pleasantly stumped. While reports of disappearing scum was indeed pleasant news, the best he had received in his entire time on the service, he still had to figure out what was happening or he might have a situation where the Syndicates decided to take matters into their own hands. Things would get bloody if that happened. He was still the law in Duero, and the Families and their syndicates knew that. He had to give them answers. He needed to give the Government answers. But if it was happening across the Sat Belt, then the pressure wasn’t only on him, but every law enforcement agency affected by this incident. He could feel the weight bearing down on him, so he, in turn, put pressure on his detectives to get him much needed answers.

The answers had come, but they were crazy. The stuff urban legends were made of. Stories were going around the city about vampires in the Venus Mountains. Captain Andrew Dean laughed. There were clearly too many drugs in circulation and consumption was obviously taking its toll.

A knock on the door.

“Come in.”

“Good morning, Captain.”

He raised a finger.

“It’s only a good morning if you have something good for me.” He leaned forward, his eyebrows raised.

“What do you have for me, Detective Harma? Anything new?”

Detective Harma removed his hat and sat down, smiling nervously, his hat balanced on his knee.

“Uh, not really, Sir. It’s basically leading back to what I reported earlier. Same stuff.”

“The Vampires?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What is it now?” the Captain groaned. “They raiding the local cemetery for coffins?”

“How did you know Sir?”

The Captain’s eyes widened.

“They are?”

“Just joking, Sir.”

“Not funny Harma,” the Captain scowled. “On with it.”

“Sorry, Sir.” Detective Harma reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a red palm-sized notebook. He flipped through it, running his hand down a page and cleared his throat.

“Ok. The Vampires. I dug into that story and pulled up some pretty weird stuff,” he said. “Reports from a brothel on Cai Avenue. Some of the girls there stated people appeared out of thin air and made off with several of the guards.”

“What do they mean when they say ‘appeared out of thin air’? They didn’t see them come in, couldn’t tell where they came from...what exactly?” asked Captain Dean.

“Uh, according to them, they said these guys just stepped out of space, in a bright blue flash, grabbed the people they wanted, then disappeared into the air in another bright flash,” Harma said, looking up.

“Weren’t those whores just high on drugs or sex?” Dean said, looking unimpressed.

“No, Sir. Some might have been, but I have similar accounts from a casino on the same avenue, another brothel and a warehouse used for storage by the Eisure family in downtown Duero. I don’t think they could all be high or lying. Another peculiar thing is that all these abductions happened at the exact same time. Some witnesses say it was like they knew who they wanted. All of it happened in under thirty seconds,” Harma said, his finger idling on a place in his notebook.

“Did anyone get a look at what the abductors were wearing?”

“Yes, some did,” Harma looked down at his notebook again and read out loud.

“Army combat uniforms with matching helmets, sidearms, sabres or long swords strapped to their backs. All black.”

Captain Dean stared at Harma.

“Are you sure that’s what they say they saw?”

“Yes Sir,”

Dean cussed, running a hand back and forth through his chestnut brown hair.

“What’s wrong, Sir?”

“I know those uniforms. Military Special Forces, assassins’ unit,” Dean answered. Harma’s mouth dropped open.

“What would Military assassins want with low-level criminals like this?” Harma asked.

“No idea and that’s assuming they are Special Forces,” Dean replied. “What happened then?”

“Nothing,” Harma said. “After they disappeared, the abductors never came back. They didn’t leave a trace. No fingerprints, nothing.”

“If they aren’t Special Forces, they certainly behave like it,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Ok, how does this tie in with the vampires? I still don’t see the connection.”

Harma flipped over a page in his notebook.

“The first vampire sightings were in Errand. People said they saw a ship in the mountains and people in combat fatigue in the surrounding forests. That was five weeks ago. There have been no reported sightings since. But two months back, if you recall, there was a first set of abductions no one, including us, paid attention to. After those abductions, people speculated that the vampires needed the bodies to feed. You know, for blood. Apparently they are back for more bodies.”

“Harma, I have criminals from the five main families here in Duero breathing down my neck, telling me to do something about their missing members. The Mayor is doing the same. The Government is afraid this might cause the Syndicates to do something rash, like gun violence rash. We all know that won’t be good for anyone. And what you’re telling me now, to explain all these disappearances, is that hungry vampires are responsible?” Captain Dean, looking incredulous. “Really?”

“Sir, it’s all I could uncover. People will testify to seeing the ship in the mountains, even members of Callis Khan’s own group who swear that there are vampires in Duero.”

“All those people are nut jobs! Hookers and thieves top the list of that witness list, and I wouldn’t trust any of that scum further than I can spray piss!” Captain Dean said, his voice rising. “Look, let’s leave the bullshit out of the mix and try to make sense of what we have happening here,” he said, lowering his voice. “This is clearly a government operation, something they don’t want us to know about. We’ve been conducting our regular sweeps for about as long as the first of these abductions and all these silly stories started. The uniforms are most likely, I’ve already said, Special Forces. Given. The abductors didn’t leave behind a shred of evidence and disappeared into thin air. That has to be some sort of teleportation tech they’re using, and Ardor is probably a testing ground for them. If any of it was legit, why didn’t they inform us? All this cloak and dagger stuff is because they don’t feel we are privy to such classified information. Look at the targets. Low-level scum, whose going to miss them, like really miss them in a way that matters? The only reason their paymasters are making noise is because the missing personnel, which is basically loss of manpower, is going to put a real dent in their criminal operations.”

Dean paused, looking at Harma, who looked back, waiting for his Captain to continue.

“It’s a shame we have to even investigate this matter. We should be thanking these guys and buying them drinks, pinning medals of honour publicly on their lapels for taking these sons of bitches off our streets,” Dean said.

“Yes, Harma, I know what you’re thinking because I’ve said it countless times meself. Due process, the rule of law, yada yada yada,” he said. “But just think how much better this place will be if these annoying assholes continue to disappear like this. No interrogation, no filing charges, no trial, no need for incarceration. No wasting taxpayers’ money looking after the pricks once they do get inside. That sounds like Utopia. If things go on like this, I couldn’t choose a better time to retire.”

“But there’s just one problem Sir with your analysis,” Harma said. “These ‘stories’ go back as far as four, five years ago. A rebel army in a ship that raided prisons and blood banks. And about a year ago, there were more of the same, the latest being on Basongo.”

Dean ran his tongue over his lower lip. He’d definitely heard about what happened on Basongo. People in military gear had broken into Asylum penitentiary and made off with close to two hundred prisoners. That attracted a lot of attention, and the Government on Singularis had tried to downplay the incident. He didn’t want to believe there was a connection between what was happening then and what had happened elsewhere. The disappearances and the explanations he had just provided Harma were simple. What had happened elsewhere was complicated, and he didn’t like complicated.

“Well, I guess there could be a connection,” he admitted, frowning.

“If there is, it still leaves the identities of these people an unanswered question,” Harma said, scribbling something into his notebook.

“I know,” Dean said. “But come on, vampires?” He gave his head a firm shake. “Keep on with the investigation, Detective. And try to bear in mind that drugs are bad for you.”

Harma wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Uh, yes, Sir.”

20

THE RUSAMBA, VENUS MOUNTAINS, ARDOR

Lieutenant Singher rushed around the Stasis-Chamber like a madwoman, her computer tablet in one hand, the other arm waving around, yelling orders, her throat hoarse. She’d need twice the RDA of blood-wine after this was over. She stopped to wipe a fine film of sweat from her forehead. They’d have to adjust the temperature again once all the bodies were in. It was still a bit high, but she wasn’t sweating because of that. She stared at all the pods. She was in the central atrium; of all the atria in the Chamber, this one had the most pods. For the past five years they had been empty.

Until now. Her eyes moved back and forth around the Chamber. She’d never seen so many bodies in stasis like that, faces that spoke volumes without saying a single word. Based on her projections and calculations, she deduced the Chamber was more than capable of handling the extra influx, in addition to all the major adjustments they had made over the past couple of months.

That’s what it was built for in the first place, she told herself.

“Lieutenant Singher, you wanted to see us?” Lieutenant Singher turned around.

“Yes Anna,” she said, running another hand over her eyebrows, drops of sweat trickling down her temples, pooling underneath her chin. She didn’t bother to wipe it, letting it drop onto her uniform

“I need you and Chev to help some of the new recruits with the Pharmacy. I know you guys already have your hands full, but I’ve given orders that your current workload be delegated. It’s important that the processing chemicals are mixed correctly before dispensing. Our new recruits are good, but I’d feel much better knowing you two are up there running point on the whole thing.”

“Yes, Ma’am, we’ll get there right away,” Anna said. Singher’s relief was apparent as she proceeded down the west corridor. The pods were almost all on-line; the last group of bodies was due shortly. After that, the whole system would have to be synchronized. Synchronization was important for the proper dispensation of the Pharma-chemicals. Mavurama, true to his word, delivered all the materials she had requested and plenty more for storage. She wondered sometimes how he was able to get tasks done the way he did. They were still wanted people, but Mavurama never seemed to fall short. If he did, he said so, but he hadn’t disappointed yet. She looked around the Stasis-Chamber, still unable to get over the sheer volume of bodies present. Enough to last at least two years. She remembered the sporadic and spotty acquisition of bodies over the past five… the rationing and how that played on their morale. The threat of blood deprivation constantly looming like dark clouds over their heads. Now that was definitely going to be a thing of the past. She had no idea what had motivated Mavurama to decide to fill the entire chamber. Speculation ran rampant among the junior officers, but no one knew anything for sure. Mavurama still hadn’t said anything to his general staff. The last seven months were the most peaceful they had ever experienced, without any need to ration any of their blood supplies.

Her questions lingered, in the back of her mind, like small, fist-sized clouds on a rainless day in a blue sky. They could linger for as long as they wanted. They would eventually disappear because she was different now. Ever since Mavurama had made her Chief Officer in the Stasis-Chamber, she’d never once been back on the frontline. She was content with her current duties, only needing answers to questions directly related to the smooth running of the Chamber.

She looked at her watch, her sleeves rolled up, saw the beads of moisture on her skin. She was running low on energy. Her watch read 11:30. The next batch of bodies was due in an hour. She’d better hurry and get some more blood into her system. It would be a long time before she sat down again after that.

* * *

Mavurama waited in loading Bay C with Lieutenant Pang, the area void of planes. Ruvuma had made sure of that when she shot down the last of their small carrier planes over a year ago. That had forced them to develop what they called the ‘Brizkha’ Routine to and from planet surfaces. Pang had finally figured out how it could be executed as effectively as it had been on Basongo. It was rough going at first, but they eventually nailed it down. They now used the main loading bay, A for planet-fall; B and C for return jumps. With the number of teams in the field, plus the packages, it meant twice as many people returning; the loading bays provided ample room with medic teams on stand-by. Casualties were minimal over the week, their targets never seeing them coming in the first place. Reaction time was set back considerably by the initial shock of them just appearing out of thin air.

Most of the casualties that occurred were as a direct result of the jumps or incidental thereto. Jumping to and from a planet surface did have its hazards. Most injuries were broken blood vessels, which led to internal bleeding due to intense pressure resulting from return jumps, hauling the extra weight of a body or atmospheric burn from the jump down. The current mission was not like other previous missions, where their targets had a good idea they were coming and had the training and weapons to repel an attack. There had been a good number of fatalities during those runs. Mavurama closed his eyes and tried to shake the memories from his mind.

“Everything all right, Sir?”

“It’s fine Pang,” he answered. They stood on a deck that overlooked the bay. “Just thinking how smoothly this mission has gone, compared to others we’ve done. This is a little less hazardous. It’s not straight up from the planet and only several kilometres between us and the town,”

“I understand Sir. I pray our run continues until we’re out of here and-“ A bright flash and an ear-shattering scream cut her off. As they watched, stunned, a tangled mass of bodies appeared, writhing like a disfigured beast several feet from the ceiling. The figures hung there for a few minutes as if suspended by invisible strings. Then, as if the strings suddenly severed, the tangled mass fell to the floor, twisting and moaning in pain.

“What the-!” Mavurama said. The Medic teams rushed forward, Mavurama leaping over the railing. Pang teleported, appearing at Mavurama’s side. There were more screams as Mavurama bent down, helping to separate the bodies from each other.

“Some of these guys have broken bones!” yelled one of the medics. “How is that even possible?” Mavurama stood up and took a step back.

“What the hell happened down there?” he asked. He wasn’t getting an answer to that question in commotion all over the docking bay as more teams teleported in, not sure of what they witnessed.

“Sir, some of the other teams have not reported back and are currently unaccounted for!” Pang said. Mavurama walked around the docking bay, rubbing his chin with both hands, deeply troubled.

“We need to know how things got this bad!” he said, raising his voice above all the distressed clamor. “I need a report, Captain Pang! Get me a report!”

The other fire-teams processed their return to the left side of the bay where huge banks of computers had been set up. Their packages, pre-sedated before the jump up from the planet, were safely transferred into carrier tubes that would then be taken down to the Stasis-Chamber. Following the commotion they now stopped and stared, watching the scene on the docking bay in shock. Pang spoke into her headset and one soldier who was still being cleared, but making his way up to the main deck stopped and turned. Pang caught his attention with a wave of her hand. The soldier rushed down the steps and made a beeline for them.

“Sergeant Num Davush, reporting Sir,” he saluted.

“What happened down there, Davush?” Pang asked. “That team looks like it’s had the crap kicked out of them.”

“We got to the Red Light District, the Uis section, Madame. We secured our packages and were about to jump out when we got a distress call from one of the other fire-teams. It was garbled, a lot of shouting at the other end, most of it not making any sense. We assumed the other teams would simply jump out and hustle back here. As per present rules of engagement, securing the cargo was top priority. We sedated our packages and got out of there as quickly as we could. The rest of my team had no idea that this had happened.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Mavurama said. “You may continue with your processing.”

“The only way we’re going to find out what took place in Duero is from the fire-team that sent that distress call,” Mavurama said, watching as stretchers were brought out to ferry the wounded soldiers away. “What about the rest of the missing teams? Still no word from them?”

“I’m locked onto their frequencies, but I’m not getting any response,” Pang said. They looked straight at each other, both thinking the same thing.

“As if someone was deliberately jamming our signals,” Mavurama said.

“But they’d have to know what frequencies to jam,” Pang said. “We haven’t seen this kind of thing for months.”

“Until now,” Mavurama said. “We need to get down to the infirmary ASAP. We don’t have a lot of time.”

* * *

Mavurama stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the bandaged figure, glancing up and down the ward. Five out of ten of the fire-team sent to Queen Brothel were bandaged from head to toe like the soldier in front of him. They resembled mummies, motionless but alive, all hooked up to blood banks.

“How badly were they hurt, Dr. Masuku?” he asked.

“Quite badly,” Dr. Masuku replied, his mood somber. “Whoever did this, wasn’t out to kill, just hurt them. One broken femur, on the exact same spot on each of the five. Also an array of bruises, all in the same places,” he pointed at the other five patients behind them. “This group was luckier. No broken bones, they just got kicked around. A lot of trauma and still pretty bad. All in the same places as well. It’s peculiar. During a fight, one doesn’t usually strike with such precision.”

“We need to talk to one of them,” Mavurama said.

Dr. Masuku turned to the un-bandaged group behind him and walked to the bed of a young woman with short pink-purple hair. He held out his hand, something in his grasp, waving it back and forth under her nose. She stirred slowly in her sleep, taking a few seconds to open her eyes to Dr. Masuku’s smiling face.

“Navaria, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’ve felt better,” she mumbled. “Right now I feel like shit, Commander. Had my ass kicked. Literally.”

Dr. Masuku chuckled.

“You’ll be fine in no time. We have you up on a blood-run, the special type. Commander Mavurama is here and would like to ask you a few questions,” Dr. Masuku turned to Mavurama.

“I understand the urgency of the situation, Commander, but she needs her rest. The sooner you’re done interrogating her, the better.”

“Thank you, Doctor, I’ll try to be as brief as possible.” Mavurama approached the bed, attempting a smile, but he was in no smiling mood.

“Sergeant, could you tell us briefly what occurred during your mission?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Sergeant Navaria Quotus cleared her throat, furrowing her brow as she concentrated. Dark, apple-sized patches stood out strong against her pale skin.

“We teleported to the coordinates we were given, nothing unusual about the brothel. Just a lot of surprised people. We quickly ID-ed the targets and were about to hightail it when one of the girls ran across the room, grabbed Desia by the arm, and knocked her backwards. Desia flew through the air like she was a rag doll. We were all shocked; that wore off in milliseconds when the girl attacked again. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast, apart from us that is, but I swear this girl was way faster. She was as nimble as a cat and had a pretty good lay of the room because it was almost near impossible to get a drop on her. She beat the shit out of all of us. Our XO ordered us to teleport out. I don’t know how we managed to, but we did, along with our packages. The next thing I remember is falling to the docking bay floor and passing out,” she said, sniffing.

“Did you get a good look at the girl?” Mavurama asked.

“No, it was dim, and everything happened fast. All I know is that she wasn’t human.”

Mavurama moved around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Navaria’s shoulder.

“Rest now and good work, Sergeant,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir.” Navaria closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep.

“I’m surprised they even made it back in their condition,” Dr. Masuku said. They had moved into the doctor’s office, leaving the medics on duty to attend to the patients.

“Their wounds could have been exacerbated by the jump back and the bodies they carried,” Dr. Masuku added. “The worst has passed, however.”

“We’re tougher than we look. A lot tougher,” Mavurama said. “Please, let me know how the patients are progressing, Doctor.”

“You think this is Ruvuma’s doing, sir?” Pang asked him. They moved back towards the bridge.

“From what Sergeant Navaria told us, plus the earlier jamming of our communication frequencies, it’s too much of coincidence for it not to be. If it truly is Ruvuma, she has a new toy she’s decided to bring to the game.”

“What do you think it is?” Pang asked.

“I don’t know, can’t be sure. We don’t have enough information to make any intelligent assumptions,” Mavurama said. He clenched a fist, shaking it slowly.

“It explains her silence over the past months. It must have been something she was working on. We knew she had agents in the field, watching our every move, absolutely no way she couldn’t have. She’s finally shown her hand, and we know she’s here,” he said.

“This mission was our last before departure. That has been delayed indefinitely. We need to contact the other missing fire-teams and tie up loose ends. Get me Captains Chikondi Saito and Darius Conte and have them meet me in the War Chamber.” The smile he wore at the moment was best described as wicked.

“What’s your plan exactly, Sir?”

“Grand. It’s time to send a message to our dear friend Ruvuma,” he said, a bright flash in his eyes.

21

GINNER AVENUE, UPTOWN MUZU, MUZU, PLANET GAIA

Captain Gamin popped a handful of cashew nuts into his mouth, dusting the salt off his hands. His hand went to his neck, but he had already removed his tie. He grabbed the arms of his chair and straightened up. He liked the feel of a solid chair against his back. It helped ease the tension in his muscles…tension that had been building gradually for days.

“Say that to me again, Captain,” he said, chewing hard and fast.

“I want to evacuate the area around Amber Forest for one hundred miles,” Tuli said.

“By issuing an alert for a non-existent bio-hazard?” Gamin said. He paused to wash the nuts down with a glass of room temperature water.

“How else do you suggest we get people to stay away?” Tuli asked.

Gamin drained his glass, replacing it on his desk. “Red Coast fever is a serious disease Captain Tuli,” he said. “You can’t just say it’s around today and gone tomorrow. People will ask a lot of questions. Questions that will be difficult to answer.”

“This won’t be the first lie you tell, Captain Gamin,” Tuli said. “I’m sure you’ll know how to spin it. You’ve been doing this for a while now, so it shouldn’t be a problem for you to give it the requisite twist.”

Captain Gamin looked at Detective Lin.

“What do you think Lin?” he asked. “You think we should run with it?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Lin said. “Red Coast fever is a highly contagious disease, deadly and difficult to cure. We can always say it was a false alarm after the threat has been neutralized. And as long as Coleho is on board, I should think we’re good to go.”

“He’s on board,” Tuli said. “No way he can’t be, knowing what he does. We start the operation in seventy-two hours. That should be more than enough time to clear the surrounding valley.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t an option to go into the burrow networks after the Carni,” Gamin said. “Why now?”

Tuli sat directly opposite Gamin in civilian clothing, her legs folded, a hat in her lap, stroking it gently.

“We would have bunk-busted the whole place, but we’ve run into a bit of a snag. There’s seems to be a layer of diamond surrounding the core of this particular burrow. It’s a large section and our bunk-busters wouldn’t do much. It would be a waste, and we believe this area is where the leader of the pack is holed up. If we don’t get him, anything else we do is pretty much akin to water disappearing into dry ground. Circumstances demand we take them head-on,” Tuli said.

“We saw the footage,” Lin said. “Those things were made to kill. What chance do you have against them?”

“We’ll be using specially made battle gear Exosuits. It’s how we’ve dealt with them in the past, just not in such cloistered situations, always on open ground. We don’t have much choice. Moreover, I have orders to make sure the doctors make it out of there safely. The public knows they disappeared in that zone. An assault by way of bombs is not in the cards. One makes it look not so obvious, but a second bunk-buster will simply destroy the forest,” Tuli replied. She replaced her hat and rose to her feet.

“Gentlemen, I must be getting back to Fort Rionga. I will let you know when we are ready to proceed. I must thank you again for your cooperation in this whole matter. Not too many other people would’ve been so understanding.”

“Likewise Captain,” Gamin said.

“Your nose itching Captain?” Lin asked after Tuli had left.

“I’m not the one lying Lin, so no, my nose is not itching,” Gamin said. “But my gut tells me something is off. Tuli is lying again, but I’m just not sure about what. I don’t think this ‘leader of the pack’ she keeps referring to is anywhere near the Amber Forest.”

“Why would she want the area cleared so badly then?”

“To make us think this pack leader is hiding out there. Red Coast fever? Anyone hears those words, and they start crapping in their pants. Tuli wants us out of the way to do whatever it is she’s planning. If she really believed this pack-leader was in the Amber forest, how on Gaia were Dr. Gana and friends able to set up camp there at all? No, Tuli is looking somewhere else, and she will use a bomb if she has to. The two doctors are, how do these military types like to say, expendable? They have no intention of saving those two. Coleho is in her pocket, all the way up to his skinny neck. You saw the way he was yesterday. Like a pet on a frakking leash. He’s taking his orders like he takes his whiskey. Straight down the hatch, without a second thought. He knew all this stuff this whole time and did he tell us? Skinny, lying bastard kept his mouth shut. And right now he knows more than we do at this point.”

“You want us to put a tail on him, Captain Tuli too?”

Gamin stared at Lin like he would at a storeroom mannequin.

“A tail on the Captain?” Gamin said, frowning. “She’s Special Forces, Lin. You think military intel doesn’t have their eye on us? We’re no match for them, so leave that idea alone. They probably have someone watching Coleho as well, so no, we’re not putting a tail on him either.”

“So what do we do?” Lin asked. “Just sit here and watch?”

“Yes. That and our job,” Gamin answered. “She might have her suspicions that we know she’s trying to pull the wool over our eyes. We haven’t said anything that might give her that idea, but being the sneaky she-wolf that she is, you never know what could have given us away. We continue as before: act like everything’s normal and go where we need to. She wouldn’t have told us as much as she did and not expect us to act on it. That kind of thinking would be absurd.”

* * *

“You’re troubled Captain. May I ask what bothers you?”

“Captain Gamin knows we're not on the level with him,” Tuli said.

“Did he say that?” Mendia asked her. They were back in her quarters at Fort Rionga.

“He didn’t have to,” she replied. “I could see it in his eyes. This would have been so much easier if he was Mayor and Coleho was, well, whatever.”

“You still think it was a good idea then to tell him, Gamin I mean, about the Carni?”

“Yes. Gamin is not stupid. He was on the verge of figuring the whole thing out, it was just a matter of days. Proof again that he’s not a shyster like Coleho. As soon as Coleho told me Gamin was stepping up his investigations and telling Coleho to get out of the way, I knew we had to bring Gamin on board. Frakking Carni!” she hissed, pounding her desk with a clenched fist. “He hasn’t bought the story about the pack leader being in Amber Forest either, that much I know. He probably thinks if the pack leader was truly present there, we’d have made that place inaccessible a long time ago.”

“You still want to proceed with Operation Wipe Out?” Mendia asked, the glare from the smart table casting shadows across his face. “Even with Gamin digging around?”

“Yes,” Tuli said, her hair hanging down. “Gamin’s a police officer, I wouldn’t expect him to do anything less. If the pack leader is in Kazumba forest and they’re building some kind of aerial device there, they cannot be allowed to get off-world. We don’t have to worry too much about the other packs. Their level of organization doesn’t compare with this particular group’s. If that pack makes it off Gaia, then we’re screwed. The doctors could be steak by now, but you know as well as I do, going down into a burrow that well organized would be like storming the gates of hell itself. With Gamin as far away from Kazumba Forest as I can keep him, three days will be more than enough to complete our objectives. Gamin’s job is to investigate homicide, rescue victims, et cetera. Our final objective is to put these sons of bitches in the ground. We don’t have the luxury of pondering on whether their victims are alive or not. Wouldn’t make any sense to take them in the first place if the plan wasn’t to have their innards for breakfast. Tell Lieutenant Uvinza to come and see me right away. Operation Wipe Out just had its schedule moved up.”

22

UIS AVENUE, RED LIGHT DISTRICT, LOWER NORTHSIDE, DUERO, ARDOR

Captain Andrew Dean popped a breath mint into his mouth, stuffing the wrapper back into his coat pocket, running his tongue across his upper lip. He scratched the side of his neck and gave his nose a few rubs with his left index finger.

“Ok, what do we have?”

“Uh, well, the story is about the same as the one I told you last week,” Harma said, notebook in one hand as usual.

“More disappearing vampires, more hookers, more scum. Frak. I hate this part of town,” Dean said. “Remind me again. What’s the name of this brothel?”

“Queen. Queen Brothel,” Harma said.

“Hmmm. Of all the names they could choose, did it have to be that obvious?”

“Business was good. Most of the girls are clean,” Harma said.

“Really? I swear there’s an oxymoron somewhere in that sentence,” Dean said, a sneer on his lips. “What about tonight’s events? You said more of the same?”

“Yes, Sir. Same sequence of events but with a big twist.”

“Everything around here seems twisted to me,” Dean said. They stood in the center of the main lounge. Many of the customers had long since vanished. The girls remained, giving their statements to other officers on the scene.

“What was so different this time? Looks like a lot of the same scum who got what they deserved the last times. All criminals look the same to me,” Dean said.

“Well, witnesses say that after our mystery kidnappers popped in,” Harma giggled at that. Dean gave him a look that instantly wiped the smile off his face.

“Excuse me, Sir,” Harma said. “Well, after our mystery kidnappers appeared and they identified their targets, one of the girls ran from that side,” Harma pointed with his notebook to an open doorway on his left, “straight for one of the abductors. Witnesses say she moved so fast it was like watching something in fast forward. She got to the other side, gave one of the abductors a roundhouse kick so hard that she knocked the abductor right across the room to that side,” Harma pointed to his right. It had a lot of broken furniture piled up against the wall.

“After that, the others attacked or got attacked by the same girl, it’s not really clear. It ended pretty badly for the abductors, who finally tapped out, but not before taking their abductees with them.”

“All this was done by a girl?” Harma could detect the disbelief in Dean’s tone. “Did you manage to get a description of this girl, Harma?”

“Not really,” Harma said, sounding disappointed. “I mean, there so many girls here on any given day. Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. The place has poor lighting; patrons prefer to have their faces seen as little as possible. After the fighting started, everything began and ended so quickly, getting a description was close to impossible.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me is she had two ponytails tied with pink ribbons. And why the hell does it smell like crap in here?” Dean said, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh that, yeah. Some of the people here shat and peed on themselves, scared themselves shitless,” Harma chuckled. Dean scowled at him. Harma’s smile fell again.

“This is making less sense by the minute,” Dean said, walking around the room, hands in his trouser pockets, sidestepping the debris. “Judging from all the broken furniture, glass, wall plaster, and blood, it must have been one hell of a fight. And you say no one was killed apparently?”

“No one Sir. They may have died of their injuries later,” Harma suggested.

“What’s not making sense to me is how this ‘girl’ knew our abductors would be here?” Dean said, stopping in front of a shattered mirror. “I mean, these guys teleport. It’s not like they cross the street and knock on the door. There’s no warning call or bell for that kind of an entrance.”

“Maybe someone from within the abductors own group tipped her off, told them they were coming?”

“Yeah, but told who?” Dean asked, studying the cracks in the mirror. His eyes moved to the ceiling. Several ceiling boards had caved in. “Whoever sent the girl clearly has a bone to pick with these vampires of yours.”

“Maybe the Syndicates?”

“Maybe. They’re a good candidate, but something tells me this is way out of their league. This girl handed these guys their asses. Over a thousand abductions, give or take a few hundred. These guys were professionals. Whoever wanted to take them out is even better. The Syndicates are sloppy, though they like to think of themselves as anything but.”

Harma followed Dean’s gaze, wondering what the Captain was looking for.

“Ok, maybe the Syndicates hired someone to take care of them?” he proffered.

“Maybe. If this was the Military, then that could be a bad mistake. You don’t piss off people with guns and less brains than balls.”

“What’s the Military saying?”

“Nothing,” Dean reached a gloved hand out and touched the mirror. “Nothing that would help. Their attitude pretty much sums up their thoughts on the matter.”

“This whole thing is going to lead us round in circles. How do these abductors know where and when to strike, which targets to acquire and most of all, where are they taking the bodies?” Dean asked. “The only way they could know any of that is if they’re getting tipped off by someone from within one of the Syndicates.”

“Or they’ve been staking out the joints for a while now.”

“No,” Dean said, turning to face Harma. “The scale of this operation is too precise, too surgical and wide-scale for that. This has to be an inside job.”

Dean moved back to the center of the room, coming to a stop in front of an open door.

“You say the girl came through here?”

“According to our eye witnesses, yes.”

“Where does this corridor lead to?”

“To the courtyard outside. It’s where some of the clients like to take their girls on uh, hot nights,” Harma coughed, embarrassed.

“She might have come in from the outside. Does this place have cameras?”

“No. At least that’s what the owner says.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Dean said, looking down at the ground for any more clues. “Rat scum never like to be caught on camera.”

“I tried following up on the other string of attacks, here in Duero and the others from a few years back across the galaxy. They all have similarities, so I wanted to establish a connection. I put in a request to speak to a Captain Janet Ruvuma, the officer I tracked down in charge of investigating those incidents. Things started looking like I might have to kiss some ass.” Dean removed his rubber gloves, stuffing them into his coat pocket.

“I was told Captain Ruvuma is currently ‘unavailable.’” They stood back in the center of the room, the Forensic team still busy cataloging and collecting evidence. “If this whole thing does involve the Military, I’m surprised they haven’t told us to stop investigating. And from what’s happened tonight and over the past week, your crazy vampire stories may be the only thing that explains everything.”

23

KAZUMBA GAME RESERVE, PLANET GAIA

It was a moonless night, temperatures in the single digits. The male Carni on duty looked down from his post, tens of feet above the ground. A dead stare into the thicket of forest. His black combat fatigues, complemented by coils of shadows, made him almost impossible to see. He had seen nothing for over two hours. It was pretty much the same thing every night. Tonight brought those nights to a total of seven. Nothing ever moved, apart from animals that had long ago come to accept the Carni as being part of the forest. It was important to watch the animals. They would let him know if humans were around. That was his given task. To look out for humans. Especially humans with guns. Big guns that could blow a hole right through his chest or reduce his brains to nothing but splatter. He’d seen friends die like that, blood and guts scattered in all directions.

His hand went to his chest, left breast, just below the collarbone. The skin had healed well for such a large wound. It had been years ago, but he remembered the day like it was yesterday. It was in his mind, right there at the back, clear as day. That was the thing about memories, they were never far away. For humans, the Military were no pushovers, but then again they were Special Forces, the one reason they had been given the task of hunting them down.

He sniffed, lifting his nose upwards.

“Lister, is that you?” he whispered. The darkness moved in the trees next to him, a figure moving silently through the intertwining branches.

“Who else does it smell like?”

“Just checking,” he answered. “The military is full of tricks, and I’ve come not to underestimate them.”

“We all have Atlas, but after today, we may not have to worry about them much longer.”

“Some of the others are suggesting we stay and fight,” Atlas said. Lister sneered.

“Like that would do any good. We’re outnumbered ten to one. Those odds aren’t so bad, but then they’ve got the technological advantage. Too many of us have already been buried alive by exploding bunk busters. That’s not how I wanna go out. We‘ll die someday and we can’t choose how we do it, but I’ll be damned before I let myself get bunkered. We’re not frakking potatoes.”

Atlas giggled.

“Come on, we need to get back to the burrow. Our replacement is almost here. Starting to feel like a bird perched up in this tree,” he said. They climbed down, noiselessly, looking around as they walked through the dense and humid undergrowth. He scratched his beard and hair. He needed to get a haircut, but he’d need a good shampoo to wash out all the dandruff first. He walked behind Lister, a space of a few metres between them, making sure he didn’t lose sight of him through all the gloom. He swiveled his ears, turning them this way and that slowly. A dark shadow appeared, moving at the base of a tree. He squinted his eyes and saw the shadow was covered with hundreds of tiny barbs.

A hedgehog, he thought. They continued on through the trees, keeping to the darkest parts. They had been ambushed many times and always when they least expected it. They’d become better at avoiding traps, but Zael still insisted they never let their guard down. Ever.

Familiar landmarks appeared, a sign that they were almost back at their burrow. Hundreds of paths led back to their burrow, and they always used a different one to and from, never the same 0ne twice during their week-long shifts. They couldn’t run the risk of wearing out a path in the forest that would lead the Military or anyone else to their secret hideout.

I’m famished, he thought. He would go down to the cafeteria and-

He stopped suddenly, sniffing at the air again and spun around but it was too late. He let out a muffled grunt as he was struck square in the face, an uppercut to the jaw. He flew back, his feet off the ground, crashing into Lister. They rolled over in an untidy heap, blood running out of the corner of his mouth. The inside of his cheek bled, his jaw smarting from the force of the blow. No matter, they had bigger problems to deal with.

They scrambled to their feet, their hands raised, claws distended, looking around quickly.

“What was it?!” Lister asked.

“I don’t know, but it was fast. It got the drop on me, and that was one hell of a punch!” Atlas said.

“Anything that can knock your eight-foot ass over like that is no laughing matter!” Lister said. “Are you sure it wasn’t an animal? Maybe we walked into its nest, and it’s just defending itself. Can you smell it?”

“That’s the problem. I didn’t smell anything, not until it hit me!” Atlas replied. His eyes moved back and forth, searching the darkness around them desperately for any signs of what had just attacked him. He sniffed harder.

“Do you smell that?” he whispered.

“Yes, I do,” Lister said, wrinkling his nose. “It smells like machine parts and fiber optics.”

Atlas frowned.

“What do you think it is?” he asked Lister.

“I have no idea, but if this thing is still out here we can’t risk it getting into the burrows. We need to find it and then alert the others.”

* * *

Zael stood in the control room, checking all the computers over, making sure everything was set and ready. Their departure was imminent, their journey through the stars a long one. It was imperative that they had all that was required for the trip in place.

The two and a half years spent collecting all the necessary parts and equipment had been fraught with hardship and difficulties. The hardest part had not been avoiding capture, obtaining the parts themselves, or finding a suitable power supply to put the whole ship together. No. The biggest obstacle they encountered was in locating a source of human protein that would not be noticed. The initial challenge, once they had identified Does as a likely source, was to make sure that supply was steady. Fortunate for them, modern society seemed to produce more outcasts than it knew what to do with. There were times when they’d to lay low for months and ration the little human RDA they had; while outcasts were generally ignored, there were some that frequented certain locales in and around the city. If they all disappeared at once, it would bring unwanted attention to the Does, and by extension the Carni. He had then ordered the construction of storage units that allowed them to keep the meat fresh longer. That meant strict rationing, but it hadn’t hurt them too badly. Gaia was a big planet, and it simply meant traveling greater distances to other cities and towns to find their prey.

Prey. It wasn’t an appropriate word to use. They simply picked the half-drunk or stoned targets off the streets, from under bridges or off park benches. They never regained consciousness; his orders were that all their captured were to be sedated and remain that way until they were brought back to the burrow. Fear produced adrenaline, which was dumped into the bloodstream and thoroughly corrupted the taste of the meat afterwards. Nothing was worse than a shitty steak. Besides, making sure they never regained consciousness was the humane thing to do.

He had his flight crew plot a course for the Mpani Nebula; a good number of habitable planets circled two binaries there. It was not within the Empire’s Jurisdiction, but that didn’t mean the Imperial Government did not have permanent terrestrial structures on some of the more populous planets. It would just be a risk they had to take. They did not have the right equipment on board to enable them to detect terrestrial human heat signatures on the surface from orbit. Whatever they found on any of the planets they decided to land on, they would have to face with eyes wide open and stand fast.

The lights suddenly dimmed, and the sirens went off. Zael pricked his ears.

“What’s happening Kayu?” he asked one of the control officers.

“We have an intruder in Loading Bay D! I’m getting reports the troops are being attacked! It’s not clear what. Lieutenant Dinoo is rushing down there with more troops!’

“Is there any gunfire?” Zael asked.

“None that I can hear, Sir. You did give strict orders that discharge of firearms on board was strictly prohibited,” Kayu said.

“I did, but our intruder won’t know this. I’m going down there myself now. Put the entire ship on lockdown. Our dear guest decided to drop in uninvited and looking for a fight, let’s make sure we oblige them,” he said, rushing straight for the door. He stepped into the corridor and sprinted in the direction of the loading bay. The ship’s intruder alert blared, the lights a deep platelet red. A tainted mixture of black and purple shadows swept up and down the corridors as the lights spun out of control. A presence hovered behind him, and he knew right away his soldiers had fallen in behind him. He smiled, adrenaline pumping around his body. He looked forward to what lay ahead, but at the same time, a strange awe and subdued anxiety filled him. What could it be that dared to come this far and decided to take them on in such a bold fashion?

They got to a stairwell leading straight down to a ramp, the ramp itself running right around the loading bay. He ignored the stairwell and jumped, landing with a slight bounce on the ramp, crouching low. He moved sideways, feeling the vibrations ripple through the ramp as the others landed heavily beside him. He straightened up and leaned forward, his hands on the rail, with a clear view of the loading bay.

“It’s a girl! A frakking human! I don’t believe it!” a soldier next to Zael said. He couldn’t believe it either. As they watched, two soldiers rushed the girl, who was covered completely in protective gear. She resembled a mummy, her armor pitch black. Zael only knew it was a girl from the subtle protrusions on her chest, barely visible to the naked eyes. He watched as one of the soldiers swung his foot round. The leg moved in a blur, but she dodged it, jumping backwards and ducking low. She sprang back up and raised her leg, bringing it round in a sideways clockwise motion. The kick caught the soldier hard in the groin. He screamed, toppling rearward, his hands grabbing desperately at the air. He crashed with a bone-crunching thud onto another soldier, lying stretched out and unconscious behind him. He spasmed on the floor, his face in a tight grimace as his hands wrapped around his groin area. The girl glided across the floor, her feet barely touching the ground, launching herself into the air and somersaulting in a tight ball high above the second soldier. She uncurled her body, her fist raised high in a tight clench, bringing it forward with a loud crack on the soldier’s skull, right down the middle. He staggered to and fro in a drunken fashion for a few seconds before falling to his knees. The soldier keeled over face first into onto the hard floor.

Zael had seen enough. He vaulted over the railing and landed directly in front of the girl. He dashed forward, his arm already in motion, and caught the girl square in the jaw with a sharp uppercut. She shuddered, and her body lifted into the air. He quickly brought his other hand forward to catch her, his clawed fist around her tiny throat. He brought his other fist around and hit her again in the temple. There was a loud snap, but the girl remained standing. He increased his grip on her neck, squeezing hard, his claws failing to pierce her armor. She lashed out at him, her fists landing deep in his side. Zael grunted as several ribs broke on his right side, genuinely surprised at her strength.

He lifted her off her feet, spinning on his heels, slamming her body down onto the steel floor with all his might. The floor caved in several inches, the impact from the body slam leaving behind a large depression. Letting out a low growl, every muscle in his body tense and ready to raise her up and slam her down again if he had to.

The girl’s body twitched. Little stinging shocks passed up from her body through his, but he held despite the numbing pain. After a few seconds, she lay still, her hands unfolding slowly, her body relaxing.

“Draw your sabers!” Zael ordered the soldiers standing behind him. “If she moves stake her right through the heart. Marko, break her legs. She won’t be able to jump around like a damn grasshopper without them!”

A tall, lanky soldier stepped forward, grabbed one leg and gave it a sharp twist.

“Sir, uh, the leg won’t break,” he said.

“What do you mean it won’t break?” Zael snapped.

“Her legs refuse to give. I didn’t feel anything shift or shatter. It’s as if she has bones made of rubber,” Marko said.

“Maybe you ain’t doing it right,” a female with short black hair and high cheekbones standing next to him said. Her saber pointed right at the girl’s stomach.

“Amputate it then, Chipi,” Zael said to the girl. She didn’t need to be told twice.

She raised her saber and Marko held out the girl’s leg. Chipi brought it down hard and fast. The grey-black metal slicing right through the intruder’s armor.

A soft clinking sound echoed. The cloth fell away, exposing the flesh underneath. The blade did not sink deep, and no blood poured out of the wound.

The leg was still intact. Chipi withdrew the blade, held it up and cussed loudly.

“The frakking blades broke! This thing is useless!” she cried.

“You got that right,” a soldier said. The others burst out laughing.

“Can it, Raya!” Zael said, his eyes blazing. “Get Daria over here now!”

The crowd parted, the soldiers moving aside to make way for the burrow’s Chief Doctor.

“Sir?” she said. Blood covered her gloved hands and shirt front.

“How are the injured?” Zael asked.

“A lot of compound fractures that will take weeks to heal. They’ll all need extra rations of HP. Our refrigeration units just don’t have enough to go around,” she said.

“We’ll need to fix that. I need you to do a quick autopsy on our friend here,” Zael said. Daria stared at Zael.

“Right here, right now?” she asked, bewildered.

“Yes. Right here. Right now.” The pain in his side caused him to flinch. Daria dropped to her knees, reaching into the tool belt tied around her waist. Zael held onto the girl’s neck, his knuckles white. Daria stared at the body, a lance knife in her hands.

“Don’t worry,” Zael said. “She’s dead.”

‘Then why are you still holding onto her neck, Sir?’ Daria said.

“Let’s just say that this one’s a bit unusual,” Zael said. “We’ll know everything we need to after the autopsy. On with it, D. My hand’s getting tired.”

Daria placed one hand on the girl’s chest, the tip of the lance just under the collarbone. She tried to slice through the fabric and stopped, removing the knife.

“It’s pretty tough garment she’s got on,” she said to herself. Daria moved the blade back and forth, applying more pressure until a small tear appeared. She widened it, revealing a transparent undergarment underneath.

“What the frak is all this?” Raya said. “She’s got more layers than a snake.”

“Body armor,” Daria said. “Designed to absorb high impact blows. Military issue.”

She stripped the outer garment down to the girl’s waist and made an incision through the transparent armor, just below her rib cage.

“Not as tough as the top armor.” She cut a straight incision down to the girl’s navel.

“She’s fine looking,” Raya said. Zael raised his eyes and glared at him.

“Why don’t I have Daria cut your tongue out with that sharp knife of hers?” Zael said.

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” Raya mumbled.

“The outer and inner armor reinforce each other, which explains the absence of superficial bruises,” Daria said. “Impressive tech. Expensive too. Whoever sent her wasn’t tight-fisted.”

Daria took the lance knife back up to the base of the girl’s ribcage and sliced the girl's belly open with one quick downward movement of her wrist. Zael narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s the blood?” he asked. Daria placed her lance knife on the floor next to the body and used her hands to widen the gash. She moved back, her face registering shock.

“No frakking way!” Chipi exclaimed. She stood behind Daria.

“Sir,” Daria said. “It appears our friend here is a cyborg. She is some type of cybernetic android. It would explain the fact that there is no blood, though she has several bio-based organs.” Daria pointed with the lance knife at a patch of skin on the machine’s left temple. “See that there? The skin has already started healing itself. I think this machine may have nano-based self-repair capabilities.”

“When the hell did you have time to read up on all that?” Raya said.

Zael leaned forward, removing his hand from around the girl’s neck. He placed a knee on her small chest and reached forward for the girl’s head with his two massive hands. When he was sure he had a firm hold, he pulled upwards will all his strength, momentarily forgetting the shotgun blast of pain in his side. The girl’s head detached itself from the rest of her body with a small hissing sound and a slight burst of electricity, the armour fabric ripping into fine tatters. Her body twitched for a few seconds then quieted down. Zael stood up quickly and handed it to a female soldier behind him.

“Maca, get this down to the lab along with the rest of her. I want the arms and legs removed and the separate parts secured in the storage units. Now!” he said. “The rest of you clean this place up. Raya, Chipi, I want two search teams in the surrounding forest. Make sure there are no more of these things out there. Daria, continue getting the rest of the wounded down to the infirmary. I want them all secured within the next hour.” Zael stepped round the body of the decapitated cyborg and walked towards the exit door as his troops rushed to carry his orders out.

“Excuse me, Sir, but you said you need all the injured secured. That’s evacuation protocol,” Daria asked, falling in beside him, her bloodied hands clasped tightly together. “Secured for what? It sounds like we’re going somewhere.”

“We are Daria,” Zael said, stopping at the door and turning to face her. “We’re leaving. That hi-tech toy on the floor was sent by the Military. They’re nearby and will start looking when it doesn’t return. We don’t know how many of these things they might send. We leave within the hour. Make haste, Lieutenant.”

* * *

Rink looked up at Uvinza. He didn’t have good news to tell her.

“We’ve lost our link with Joan,” he said. “It appears she’s offline.”

“Offline how?” Uvinza said. They stood under a large mahogany tree, its thick foliage providing adequate cover from the late afternoon sun.

“She’s been deactivated,” Rink answered. ‘She might have had her CPU removed. That body slam to the floor messed up her internal circuits,”

“So now we don’t know where she is down there, that’s what you’re telling me?” Uvinza asked.

“Yes, Madame. That is what I am telling you,” Rink said, trying to sound apologetic.

“And I thought we had only one cyborg out here,” Uvira said. The others burst out laughing.

“Would you like to be the first to go down into the Burrows, Uvira?” Uvinza asked darkly. Uvira saluted.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.”

“These Carni are getting smarter with each passing moment,” Uvinza said. “With our source of visual confirmation gone, we have no way of knowing what’s happening underground. We need to send in another Cy.”

“Would that be wise, Madame?” Tager asked. “They already took out one and are probably studying it as we speak.”

“Very true Tager,” Uvinza answered, “but we don’t have an option. Joan kicked their asses. Now is an opportune time to hit them harder. Once we’ve weakened them further, we’ll be able to go in with the remaining Cys, bringing up the rear with Exosuits.”

Uvinza said to Rink, “Give the order for the other Number II to go in, digging down to Joan’s last known coordinates. How long will it take to reach the burrow?”

Rink looked at the computer tablet attached to his arm.

“About half an hour,” he said. “I’m picking up quite a number of heat signatures in the area around the river, moving in sweeping, concentric patterns.”

“Carni?” Uvinza asked.

“No doubt,” he said. “They’re too organized to be anything else. It will be only a matter of minutes before the first group encounters Anne. Should I give her a new set of tasks?”

Uvinza was quiet for a few minutes.

“If she engages those patrols, she’ll be bogged down in a fight. Those Carni now know what they are dealing with, not to mention the fact that they’re pissed. That can work to our advantage. If our theories are right that they’ve been stealing machine parts to put together some kind of escape vehicle, then Anne might just slow them down, and that could buy us some time.”

“Send in two more,” she said to Rink. “One to engage the other patrols and the other to breach the central burrow. We need to find the pack leader,” she said. Rink said nothing. He simply tapped at his computer tablet.

“What is it, Masi?” Uvinza asked.

“Does anyone else feel that, like a tremour beneath our feet?” Masi said, craning her neck left and right.

“Maybe you just need to open some bowels,” Tager said.

“No, she’s right,” Uvira said. “I feel it too.”

“Rink, what do you have for us?” Uvinza said.

“I can feel the tremour too, but there is no seismic activity in this area,” he replied.

A flock of multi-colored birds flew into the air, screeching loudly. Uvinza glanced down at her feet; the vibrations increased. Cracks appeared in the ground, and it began to sag in large sections. The trees around them shook from side to side, leaves, and fruit falling to the forest floor. Rocks and debris flew upwards, fine clouds of dust and dirt filling the air.

“Madame!” Rink cried. “My scanners are picking something about a thousand feet beneath us, moving upwards! It’s big, but I can’t get a fix on it!”

Uvinza glanced back down at the ground again. The gaps grew wider. The trees fell sideways, slamming into each other with loud thuds. A dull flash of light poured out from the cracked soil.

“Everyone fall back to the plains!” Uvinza yelled. “Now!” They rushed back through the forest. Trees groaned and tilted in various directions as the vibrations increased in intensity. Uvinza holstered her weapon and somersaulted over fallen trees and gaping holes. The light seeping upwards lit up the dark undergrowth like a grounded star.

The tree line fell away, and clear sky appeared above as they stumbled out onto the grassy plains. They sprinted on for another thousand metres and came to rest under a huge thorn tree with scraggly branches in full foliage. Uvinza twirled, taking a few steps backwards, looking back the way they’d come. The ground sloped down gently, a sea of faded grass stretching out below them.

“Will you look at that!” Masi said. “It’s broken right through the surface!”

They all watched as a black, metallic object rose up through the center of the forest, soil, rocks, trees and other plant matter stuck to the sides. It was bigger than anything she’d thought possible. It was one thing to imagine the Carni could build a ship and another thing altogether to actually see it. Animals fled the forest, bounding into the flatlands at breakneck speed. The air filled with more clouds of birds, dirt, and dust, all rising violently. The ship's engines were deafening as the air continued to vibrate and heat up. Bright lights flashed on the side of the craft, which resembled a large, flat river pebble.

“Take that ship down! Now!” Uvinza ordered Tager and Uvira.

They hoisted their missile launchers onto their shoulders and quickly discharged several rounds of high impact heating seeking rockets. The rockets sped in a sharp arc through the air towards the ship, as worked its way up through the atmosphere. It was barely visible through all the clouds of steam forming around it. The rockets disappeared from sight. A series of bright flashes erupted as they collided with the ship. Uvinza looked at Rink, her face set like an angry stone carving.

“Tell me those were direct hits!” She yelled at him.

“Impossible to tell, Madame! I can’t get a reading! The ship is emitting a ton of interference! Communications are down!” he said.

“Which means we can’t call in an airstrike! Damn it!” Uvinza slapped her gloved hands together. “Damn it! Keep trying Rink! We can’t let that ship get off-world! Ralph, Masi, distress flares now!”

Uvinza watched as the huge dust cloud surrounding the ship broke up. She squinted her eyes; it didn’t appear to be damaged. She cursed, barking at Tager and Uvira.

“Again! Fire at will! I want that frakking thing downed now!”

“But look at the size of that thing, Lieutenant!” Tager said. “It’s going to take more than a couple of RPGs to bring it down!”

“Do we look like we have anything bigger?” Uvinza snapped. Tager shook his head “Then fire, damn it!”

The barrage of missiles went on. The large ship ascended rapidly, moving eastwards towards a line of snow-capped mountains. Debris continued to skate and fall off the sides like a waterfall. The rockets from the launchers streaked upwards, like giant, angry fire-flies, exploding violently at the ships exterior, the flash so bright that Uvinza had to use her helmets sunscreen to filter out the radiance.

“Nothing, Lieutenant!’” Tager cried. “Our rockets didn’t even dent it!”

“That’s impossible!: Uvinza yelled. “What the hell is that thing made of? Do they have some kind of force field around it? Rink, I need answers!”

“Still a lot of interference, Madame!” Rink said. ‘There must be some kind of low-level EMP frequency the ship is sending out. My equipment still won’t respond to my commands. Whatever that ship is doing, it’s throwing a ton of static everywhere!”

“How the hell is this possible?” Uvinza said, staring at the ship in disbelief. “They’re just a bunch of meat-eaters, for shit’s sake!”

“The ship is preparing to make a jump into the upper atmosphere!” Rink said. “I’m picking up a build-up in its main engine. That explains the weakening jamming frequency; it’s diverting energy from its communication grid to its other systems!’

“They’re getting ready to blast out of here? And there’s nothing we can do about it?” Uvinza grabbed Rink, holding his head between her hands.

“At the moment, there’s nothing we can do, Madame,” Rink said calmly. “Whoever is in charge up there thought this whole thing out right through to the tiniest detail.”

The ship rumbled, like the sound of a giant annoyed that it had been roused from a deep slumber. Its engines continued to spool. The wind picked up, lashing through the plain like an angry banshee, the late afternoon sun faint and almost blotted out by the large volume of dust and steam in the air. The air exploded with a sudden bright flash, the ground sifting and sliding like broken plate pieces. Uvinza and her team were knocked right off their feet, hitting the ground hard. It took them all a few seconds to regain their bearings, slowly pulling themselves back to their feet. Uvinza looked up at the sky. The ship was gone.

“Sons of carnivorous bitches,” Tager said, on his hands and knees, still trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Uvira said.

“My Computer’s back on-line, Madame,” Rink said.

“A little too late, don’t you think, Rinkie?” Masi said, removing a thick layer of soil from her armor, dusting it down vigorously.

“No one’s perfect,” Rink answered.

“Where is the ship now?” Uvinza asked.

“Its estimated flight path has it gunning for deep space. My computer’s guess is the Anja Star system,” Rink said.

“Anja Star System?” Uvira said. “There’s nothing there but Penal colonies.”

“You’re right Uvira,” Uvinza said. “A lot of Penal colonies.”

“But why the heck would they even go there? Why spend months hiding out here, build a big ass ship, finally escape, and then blast off to the biggest collection of penal colonies in the entire Empire?” Uvira asked, minimizing her grenade launcher.

“Not to mention the most secure collection of penal colonies you ever did see,” Tager said. “I know Carni are genetically programmed to be crazy, but going there is suicide.”

“I have an idea why they might have chosen that destination,” Uvinza said. “If my theory holds out, then today won’t be the total screw up it’s panned out to be so far. Let’s go, we need to hurry. Things are going to get difficult from here on out.”

24

NYAMANJOBVU AIRBASE, MUHINGA, PLANET KHIVU, SATELLITE BELT

Dr. Khama twisted the faucet on, moving her soaped hands back and forth underneath the cold jet of water. When she was satisfied her hands were clean, she closed off the water. She dried them on paper towels, pulled quickly out of a metal dispenser fixed on the wall beside the mirror above the sink. Her reflection stared back; the bags underneath her eyes showed up a few days ago but were more noticeable today. She smiled; it wasn’t a fake smile. It was a true smile. She smiled with her eyes and with her heart.

Captain Ruvuma’s ‘little science project’ had been finished way before schedule and apparently performed to perfection. The weight hanging on her shoulders, like a donkey’s yoke for the past year, lifted. Her main concern during that entire time was whether or not the prototype would meet Ruvuma’s detailed expectations. When she was told what she would be working on, she thought it was some kind of sick joke. Far from it. General Namoto had signed off on it personally; it was then she finally realized how much was riding on the whole project. Failure was an ending she couldn’t allow.

She laughed. She’d done it, her and her dedicated team. They’d finished making repairs to the prototype, the surgery had gone fine, and it had no internal damage. She would sleep better that night than she had in months. Her pager went off; she looked at the screen, chuckling.

She walked back out to the lab where she found Captain Ruvuma and Lieutenant Lakato waiting, a huge ear-to-ear smile on Ruvuma’s face. Ruvuma rushed forward and gave her a big hug.

“Congratulations, Doctor!” Ruvuma said, holding her at arm’s length. Clapping broke out, cheers going around the room as the rest of Khama’s team looked on.

“Your machine was a success!” Ruvuma said. “I’ve been going over the data, and I’m more than impressed. As soon as it’s all been examined, I need a report ready for General Namoto. I think it would be an understatement to say he’s eager to read how well your machine did.”

“Our machine,” she said, gesturing at the rest of her team. “Everyone put in their all on this one.”

“Indeed they did,” Ruvuma said, laughing. “I’m speechless right now, I’ve run out of things to say. But once again I have to say thank you, Doctor.”

“Thank you is more than enough for someone claiming to have run out of words,’’ Doctor Khama hugged Ruvuma back, and there was more cheering and hand clapping.

The officers left the lab, and Dr. Khama climbed on top of a table next to the main surgical table, the prototype lying on it like a corpse. A white sheet covered it.

“I know this is not standard procedure and someone will have to wipe this workspace down,” she said, barely able to stand up straight, “but I think this calls for a little celebration. There’s a few bottles of wine I’ve been saving for this day hoping that it would arrive. “Lo and behold, here it is.” Plastic cups were passed around, wine bottles opened, and cups poured.

“Drink and make merry! But not too merry people!” Khama called out over the noise. “We still need to finish processing this data and get every last bit of it to Ruvuma or she’ll probably turn this thing loose on us!”

* * *

Ruvuma rubbed her wrists together, holding them up to her nose.

“I can’t remember the last time I actually used this perfume,” she said over her shoulder.

“Last year,” Lakato said. “At the New Year’s Eve Party.”

“This is no party, but we deserve a break, just like everyone else whose been busting their asses.” Ruvuma made her way back from the bathroom, her hair hanging down, thoroughly brushed. She took her seat at the dinner table. Several dishes were laid out; Ruvuma had instructed the Chef to go an extra mile with their meal that evening.

“I hear they danced around in the lab after we left,” Lakato said.

“As long as Khama and her crew don’t break the prototype, I don’t mind if they decide to prance up and down naked.”

Lakato laughed.

“It’s good to see you like this, Janet.”

“Ha! You called me Janet and not J. I must be doing something right.”

“I know you hate J, but I only call you that when I want to get your attention,” Lakato said. She reached for the vegetable salad while Ruvuma opened the bottle of Champagne. It opened with a soft pop, foam rising to the top.

“You’ve always had my attention,” Ruvuma said, pouring glasses for both of them. “This whole thing had me righteously distracted. You know, worrying about it, not knowing if we would be able to pull it off.” Her eyes sparkled like the drink in her glass. “But we did. Tomorrow it’s back to work, but tonight we’ve earned the respite.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Lakato said, holding her glass delicately in her hand. “You look alive for the first time in a long time. Mavurama isn’t worth killing yourself over.”

“I guess you’re right, but it feels good knowing that we have something that can match the Vamps’ strength for strength and speed for speed. I looked at the reports; even though I wasn’t after killing them, it was still a shock that they were able to get out of there with their packages.”

Lakato spread mayonnaise across her vegetable salad.

“That surprised me too, but I guess it shouldn’t. We know how resilient those guys are,” she said. “Mavurama doesn’t encourage slackers on his team. This is only the beginning. The Vamps were caught off guard, but I doubt they’ll be a second time. Will the prototype hold its own next time, do you think?”

“It’s hard to tell at this stage,” Ruvuma cut her steak into thin strips, “and you are right. The Vamps will evolve. They now know they have an adversary that possesses a skill set at par with their own. I just hope the prototype evolves as quickly.”

Lakato raised her eyebrows.

“Isn’t that what Namoto feared? That the machine will evolve and become self-aware, usurp its masters? He did put a time limit on this thing. If that can’t be defined, then we pull the plug at the first sign that this ass-kicking toy of ours develops independence.”

“I know, but if we don’t allow it to evolve, it won’t be long before the Vamps get the drop on it,” Ruvuma said. “I’m still not sure how Mavurama will react to this. From the intel downloaded from the prototype, the injuries it inflicted on that fire-team were quite extensive. I marvel at its precision, precision not even Mavurama can match.”

“We’ve won this battle, and the war is far from over. Mavurama may have received a few casualties, but he was still able to achieve his initial objective. The Syndicates are upset, and that’s all they’re going to do, be upset. No abductions for the past twenty-four hours and still no sign of Mavurama’s ship. It might still be around, somewhere in the solar system but it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Lakato said. She wiped a corner of her mouth with a napkin and reached for some more vegetable salad.

“Pin-pointing the exact whereabouts of Mavurama’s ship is like looking for a needle in a haystack. A more apt description would be a rubber duck in a great big churning ocean. It hasn’t been seen for months, and it won’t be seen until they are ready to leave this star-system. We don’t know when that could be. Two thousand plus bodies sounds like more than enough for whatever plan he’s put together. They may or may not be done with the abductions, and this break may be a result of our attack. Or it may be a hiatus before they put the next phase of their plan into motion. Either way, we can’t be certain; all we can do is wait and watch,” Ruvuma guided a forkful of rice into her mouth and chewed slowly.

“Any word on Callis?” she asked Lakato.

“Vitosis and Dali say that he’s been rallying his men. With the other Syndicates shaken up by the abductions, it seems he wants to take advantage of the low morale, assert and consolidate his power.”

“That might lead to a lot of instability. We don’t want that,” Ruvuma said. “Send a thousand troops to Ardor to help with patrols in Duero and the surrounding towns. The last thing we need is for some news agency tracing the disturbance back to us. Say the troops are there to assist with the on-going security sweeps. It might raise concerns, but not as many as if we let Callis start his stupid shit. The troops are to do real work, not simply stand around on ceremony. I want full reports on everything that happens over there.”

“Your wish is my command,” Lakato said.

“You can wipe that cheeky smile off your face while you’re at it, Laurel,” Ruvuma laughed, reaching for her glass.

A loud bang shook the room; Ruvuma drew her hand back quickly, and they both jumped to their feet.

“What the hell was that?” Lakato said. She had already unholstered her gun, pointing it downwards, the safety clip still on.

Ruvuma unholstered her sidearm as well and rushed for the door.

“I don’t know, but we need to find out.” Another thunderous bang resonated through the walls and floor. As she opened the door, loud screams pierced the air. The two guards on duty outside her door stared down the corridor, their rifles raised and their faces taut with terror.

“Private, what’s going on?”

“We aren’t sure Madame,” he blurted out. ‘There’s an explosion in the outer perimeter to the base and more explosions down the hall. All our short-range communication has been jammed!”

Ruvuma and Lakato glanced at each other.

“It’s them,” Ruvuma said quietly. “They’re here.”

“This far from Ardor?” Lakato said in shock. “That’s crazy!”

“We’re talking about vampires here. We know they are anything but sane,” Ruvuma said. More shouts and screams, as well as gunfire, rang out from down the hall.

“There must be hundreds of them!” Lakato cried above the commotion.

“Who Lieutenant?”

“Never mind, Private,” Ruvuma said. “Move out and keep it tight.”

They moved down the corridor quickly, the lights flickering, smoke drifting into their field of vision from a corridor that veered left. Another explosion, this one more powerful than the first shook the building for a few seconds. They had to steady themselves, leaning on the walls to prevent themselves from falling over.

“They must be trying to break through!” cried one of the guards named Sam.

“I think they might have already done that!” Lakato said, “They’re creating another access point, wherever the hell they are! We still haven’t seen anyone!”

Which is odd, Ruvuma thought. They had heard gunfire, but all the corridors they passed through were empty. The gunfire continued, and if she listened closely it seemed to be getting further and further away.

“Where is everyone?”

“You took the words right out of my head, Sam,” Ruvuma said as they rounded another corner. The corridor directly opposite lay empty, thick spools of blood on the floor in the one on their right.

“Blood but no bodies,” Sam said. He waved his rifle back and forth, his fingers grasping it tightly.

“Which way, Captain?” A soldier named Liness asked.

Ruvuma looked at the blood on the floor. Smoke rose to the ceiling, hovering there like some kind of magical rain cloud. She looked the other side. More blood on the floor.

“Straight on,” she said. They moved on in silence.

The lights above and along the length of the corridors floor edge stopped flickering and began to ebb.

“They’re messing with our power connections,” Lakato said.

“Well, they’re sure thinking of everything,” Ruvuma coughed. The air had become heavier with smoke and laced with the smell of burnt circuits. It stung her nostrils. She reached into a side pocket on her combats and pulled out a kerchief she quickly tied around her mouth and nose.

“You always had a sensitive nose, Janet,” Lakato said.

“Better to smell trouble with, my dear,” Ruvuma chuckled and motioned for them to continue.

“Any luck with the radios?” Ruvuma asked Sam.

“Still jammed up like morning traffic,” he said. “But listen, it’s almost quiet now.”

Ruvuma listened, unmoving, barrel aimed at the ground.

“He’s right,” Lakato said. “I don’t hear anything at all.”

“How far are we from the nearest exit?” Ruvuma asked.

“About a thousand metres,” Liness said.

“Are you sure?” Lakato said.

“I know this place like the inside of my thighs. There’s nothing to it,” she said. “It’s there alright, elevator leads right up to the main docking bay.”

“Good. Lead on,” Ruvuma said. They made it all the way to the last corridor. The elevator at the end of the hall stared back at them. More blood spills stained the floor, but still, she saw no bodies.

“There it is. There seems to be no one around, but we need to keep it tight and remain alert,” Ruvuma said. They started towards the elevator. Halfway there, the lights went out.

“Crap,” Sam said. “The auxiliary power should have kicked in by now.”

“That means they’ve disconnected our back-up generators too,” Lakato said. “Blood-sucking bastards thought of everything!”

“The Vamps are behind this attack?” Sam asked in a panicked voice.

“Private, this is not the time to lose your shit,” Ruvuma said quietly. “Get your flashlight out and shine it back the way we came. We need to get out of here. Without any power, that elevator isn’t taking us anywhere.”

A bright flash of blue lit up the air a few metres on. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

“It’s them,” whispered Lakato.

The flash appeared again in front of them, the bright blue light blinding them all. Ruvuma closed her eyes, squeezing them shut. Hands grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her upwards. She screamed.

“The flashlight, Private! The flashlight! Damn it!” yelled Lakato.

Another quick burst of shredded light and Ruvuma’s screams stopped. Sam managed to get the flashlight on; Lakato squinted her eyes as they adjusted to the glare. She grabbed the flashlight from Sam and swung it around desperately. She scrambled up and down the corridor, shining it in every direction. Her body trembled, handgun limp at her side. It shook uncontrollably, the color gone from her face, her eyes glistening.

Lakato spoke, her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

“She’s gone.”

25

SAGARA AIR BASE, PLANET RUTOPE

General Namoto waited for them. Captain Capri hoped he would be late or by some miracle not show up at all. This was one briefing she didn’t want to give. He sat behind his desk, looking somber. She glanced at Lieutenant Lakato, who seemed just as uncomfortable as she did.

“Ladies, please be seated,” he said. A true gentleman, Namoto never forgot his manners, no matter how foul of a mood he was in.

“Lieutenant Lakato, pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about Captain Ruvuma.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said. “We’re still trying to locate her, and I’m certain that we will.”

“We’ll come back to that unfortunate business, but first I would like to hear from Captain Tuli,” he said, something distinctively insincere about his smile. His eyes were dark, and she knew he was trying to control his temper.

“Thank you General,” Tuli said, accepting that there was no getting out of this moment.

“We’ve tracked down the Carni that made it off Gaia. Their destination signal has them trekking to the Anja Star System, most likely the Penal Colonies.”

Namoto’s body posture relaxed.

“Why the Anja system? What’s so special about the Penal colonies?” he asked.

“The Carni may be trying to access bodies from the prisons there. It could be possible that they are running low on RDA-HF and are seeking to replenish their ‘supplies’ with the inmates.”

“But the Anja Collective Penal Colony is one of the most heavily guarded penal collectives in the Empire. Why go there?” Namoto said.

‘This particular group of Carni has shown that they are. They’ve demonstrated they learn fast. Mavurama’s last five raids were on prison blocks and planets, looking for bodies to re-stock his blood banks. We think that whoever is heading the Gaia-Carni is following the same tactics. Prisoners won’t be missed. As far as people are concerned, once a condemned person, always a condemned person. The Anja Penal Colonies houses scores of hard-core inmates. The Gaia-Carni might make a play for one of the thousands of penal blocks out there,” Tuli said.

“If the tactics are so similar to Mavurama’s, why not conclude that it’s a vamp leading these animals?” Namoto rubbed his chin as he spoke.

“Initially we thought it might have been that kind of set-up, but when Joan went into the Amber Burrow, we caught sight of one Carni who might be the leader of the pack. He gave orders and took Joan down. We weren’t able to get a good image of this particular Carni, but facial recognition software identified him as Xolani Zael. Our records show that he served extensively under Mavurama during the Belt Wars.”

“Ah, yes, the cyborgs.” A momentary flash of anger passed through Namoto’s eyes. “Any luck tracing the one that’s gone missing, Captain Tuli?”

“No, Sir.”

“Why not?” he snapped.

“The Carni took it with them. Soon after deactivating it, they took off in their ship,” Tuli replied.

“Their ship,” Namoto said, his voice tight. Another flash of rage. “I heard about that, although I couldn’t quite believe it when I did. I understand your fire-team failed to take it down, couldn’t even get air support to do the same. Care to explain that?”

“Bombing the Amber Burrow was not an option,” Tuli said, choosing her words carefully. “The whole central area of the burrow was shielded by a lattice of diamond rock the Carni spent months putting together. It explains the theft of drilling tools by the Carni from the surrounding area. The diamonds were worked into the exoskeleton of the ship, which is why our weapons were useless in our attack.”

“Very innovative these Carni,” Namoto said, his lower lip twitching at intervals. “So now they have a ship that has a diamond shell around it and a cyborg. How did they manage to get the ship parts?”

“A wave of thefts occurred on Gaia. We found hundreds of machines, tools, etc. in the Amber Burrow and traced the serial numbers back to the owners, some hundreds, even thousands of miles away. They were determined to build a ship, and they did. Some of the parts were made right from scratch. We found metal works shops as well as what appeared to be an electronics lab.”

Namoto stared at Tuli.

“Were they manufacturing weapons?”

‘They might have been. If they make it to the Anja Penal Colonies, they will need the firepower to break their way through. They don’t have the advantage of teleporting like the Vamps. They’re going to have to go toe to toe to get the bodies they want.”

“You know this whole thing is a cock-up, don’t you Captain Tuli?” Namoto said.

Another rhetorical question.

“Yes, Sir, I realize that.”

“We have seven-foot cannibals, with intelligence rivaling even the Vamps. You realize that will make the Cannibals all the harder to catch, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s your plan? You do have one Captain…?”

“We’ve alerted the Central Authority in Anja; my fire-teams were already on their way over there the minute we deduced it was where the Carni were going. The cyborgs have proved an effective weapon against the Carni, so we think it best if we re-deploy them.”

“These Cannibals built a ship, Captain Tuli,” Namoto said, leaning forward. A vein was visible on the General’s forehead, running from one end to the other, a tell-tale sign he was agitated. “Underground. What makes you think they can’t build cyborgs if they wanted to? And you want to send in more?”

“Joan was up against tens of those things, and she took tens of them down. If that isn’t a reason enough to send the rest in, then I don’t know what is, sir. It was under your direct instructions that the borgs not be fitted with self-destruct protocols. Do you still insist they shouldn’t be?”

Namoto lifted his chin, his eyes slits as he looked at Tuli. Tuli he thought it was a cheeky thing for her to say.

“No, I rescind that directive. It’s worse having equipment worth billions in the hands of animals that carve out steak with those same hands than having it blow up when it finally fails. I want the blast radius on those self-destruct protocols increased. We need to take out as many as we can. They should think twice before trying to steal our machines,” he paused. “You really think the Carni will try to make it down to the Penal Colonies? If they are as smart as they have proven to be, they don’t need the genius to tell them that’s a stupid idea. They may be superhuman, but they aren’t supernatural. They will die.”

“We don’t know what they have planned, so all we can do is wait for them to arrive,” Tuli said.

“Can’t we intercept the ship, stop them before they even make it that far?”

‘We attempted to do that, but we can’t pinpoint the ships exact location. It’s moving all over the place, disappearing and re-appearing. They’re employing some kind of Houdini program, one more advanced than what we use. We’ll have to wait for them to show up in Anja before we can get an exact fix. We are tuned in to their final destination signal,” Tuli said.

“The Carni are giving you a real run for your money, Tuli,” Namoto said, leaning back in his chair. “Again.” His tone was taunting.

“The Emperor’s money, sir,” Tuli replied. ‘True, they are more a challenge than in the past. We need to start using our brains like they have. You can only be so smart, and it takes more than guns and bombs to win a war.”

“Tell that to the Vamps,” Namoto said, irritated with Tuli’s impetuosity. “And the Doctors, how much do they know about this whole thing?”

“The full extent of their knowledge is yet to be established,” Tuli replied. Namoto’s mouth twitched faster.

“I’ll be flying out to Gaia later today,” Tuli said, hoping to appease the General with her answer. “They are still in protective custody, set to be released after we make sure it’s safe to do so. All their communications will be bugged to make sure they stick to the official story.”

“If they break silence haul them in right away. I refuse to become the official ringmaster in this circus,” Namoto said, his gaze shifting to Lieutenant Lakato.

“As the new in-command of the Vamp Task Force, do you have any idea as to why he would have kidnapped Ruvuma?”

“Not at the moment. There has been no communication from Mavurama since the abduction. He secured an usually large number of bodies on Ardor so his troops won’t be making any more raids for the foreseeable future.”

“Do you have any idea where these Vamps might be?”

“They might still be within the Satellite Belt. They haven’t been leaving bread crumbs for us to follow since they no longer conduct raids like they used to. The cloaking tech they use is sophisticated, much like the one the Gaia Carni are employing. He might be on any one of the hundreds of moons surrounding the main planets on the Belt. Frankly speaking, Sir, finding him is like trying to thread a camel through the eye of a needle. We’ve sent dozens of deep space probes out; they’ve been tuned to Ruvuma’s biorhythmic and DNA signature. I’m hopeful they’ll lock on her precise location,” Lakato answered.

“That’s a lot of worlds to cover. A lot of space,” Namoto said. “Will you find her in time? Your report said Mavurama might be planning to enter a gap.” Namoto shook his head. “We made them all crazy. You have considered the likelihood Captain Ruvuma may be dead? The thought is distasteful but a real possibility, given the people and animals involved.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lakato said, her eyes glassing over. ‘That is an outcome we’ve factored in. If she is deceased, we still need to bring her body back. She at least deserves that.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Lieutenant. I trust you are still tracking down the other remaining Vamps?” Namoto asked.

“Of course sir,” Lakato said. “The other Vamp Leaders might know where Mavurama is laying low. We put the squeeze on the others, something is bound to give. It has to.”

“Let’s hope it does,” Namoto said. “We need to end this thing. It has gone on for far too long.” His face darkened further. “It’s getting out of hand, ladies. End it.”

* * *

“Is the General always that difficult?” Lakato asked. They had left Namoto’s office, moving down one of the corridors that led to the Central Administration.

“He is, but pay it no mind,” Tuli said. “That’s the way he is. The important thing is to focus on your job, which is a lot bigger now with Ruvuma gone. Tracking down vamps and Ruvuma simultaneously won’t be easy. Janet’s a good teacher, and right now, wherever she is, she’s depending on all those hard-learned lessons paying off.”

“We tracked a group of Vamps to a planet called Hone. Not as organized as Mavurama, but they might be tailing him and his troops, starting from the time Mavurama raided Britannica right up to Basongo. After Mavurama disappeared, they did the same. Good place as any to start,” Lakato said. They reached a T-junction, a sign on the wall a few metres up indicating that the left corridor led to the Administration Annex, the right to the main hangar. Tuli held out her hand.

“‘Stake that son of bitch right through the heart and pass my regards while you’re doing it,” Tuli said. Lakato laughed and they shook.

“With pleasure,” she replied.

26

THE RUSAMBA, DEEP SPACE

Mavurama wiped himself down with a towel, walking to the mirror, gazing at his reflection. The scars on his upper torso were faded but still visible. With adequate rations of blood-wine, they would be gone in a matter of days. He spread his body with lotion, a special combination of vitamins and minerals that reduced the effect of sunburn. They had spent too much time in the darkness. That prolonged duration had weakened and reduced the amount of melanin in their skin. He wasn’t sure when the next trip planet-side would be; they’d spent weeks in deep space, the ship in idle suspension between planets, trying to stay off imperial radars. The weeks of inactivity after the raid on Nyamanjobvu Airbase had no one complaining; they had been on the run for so long they had forgotten what it felt like to not look over your shoulder. There was more than three years worth of blood in the Stasis-Chamber, and that was more than enough to last at least five if they rationed it properly. Rationing. That was one word they wouldn’t have to hear, hopefully, for a long period to come. The time was coming when they would be able to put all this space cat-and-mouse crap behind them. The freedom they were refused and had so desperately sought was nearly in sight.

A soft tap on his door interrupted his thoughts. He slipped into his combat pants, tightening his belt, reaching for his shirt.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Pang stuck her shoulders into the room.

“Permission to cross the threshold, Sir?” she asked.

“I’ll take that as a joke, Captain,’ Mavurama said, laughing. “What brings you down here?”

Pang closed the door behind her, one hand holding her computer tablet.

“First, status report from the Stasis-Chamber. The blood banks are filling up nicely, production of brack-vinta is progressing steadily, despite a few hiccups,” she said.

“What kind of hiccups?” Mavurama asked as he fitted his boots on.

“A few of the bodies rejected the pods. Others accepted the appendages but then rejected the medicines.”

“How many?” Mavurama asked.

“About twenty,” Pang answered. Mavurama’s shoulders relaxed. Pang sat down on a chair at the entrance to Mavurama’s bedroom, watching him as he finished getting dressed.

“Singher tells me it’s nothing to be alarmed about, there is always bound to be a small percentage that rejects integration. The number will not have a significant bearing on our target levels for blood-wine,” she went on.

“Well, that sounds like it’s all taken care of,” Mavurama said. “I want daily reports, twice a day, morning and evening. Anything else goes wrong down there, I need to know the minute it happens.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mavurama tied up the shoelaces on one of his boots, glancing up at Pang while he did.

“What’s the second thing?” he asked.

Pang stood quietly for a few seconds, staring at Mavurama.

“It’s Ruvuma,” Pang said finally. “Word is out that we might have a high ranking, non-vamp on board.”

Mavurama straightened up slowly.

“How did word of her presence on board get out?”

“Someone saw a glass of apple juice brought down this side two days ago,” Pang said. “We’re not exactly idiots.”

“Not exactly idiots,: Mavurama said, smiling. “I like that. It won’t be too difficult for people to understand that it would be wise if they just ignored that rumor.”

“I get the word out?” Pang said.

“Most certainly,” Mavurama said.

“With all due respect, Sir, was it a good idea abducting her? The Military is looking for her, which is the only reason we’ve been sitting here in planet umbra for weeks on end.”

“One of the reasons, Pang. One of the reasons,” Mavurama said, tying his second shoelace into a firm knot. “You know just as I do what’s at stake here. Capturing Ruvuma was the best move yet. Everything is falling into place perfectly because of it. We haven’t had to go out looking for bodies because we have all the ones we need. Yes, the patrols have intensified, but now they aren’t just looking for us, but Ruvuma as well. As far as they are concerned, she could be anywhere. They won’t stop until they find her. Her disappearance is all the distraction we need until we finalize our plan. How is that little project going on by the way?”

“You’d have to ask Trait yourself Sir,” Pang said. “He won’t say anything to me, even though I told him you needed me to bring you a report.”

“Still touchy with his toys,” Mavurama said. “Let’s get down there, but first please check that our guest has everything she needs.”

* * *

She looked down at her plate, then at the guard who had brought it in.

“Hey Drovic, how do I know it isn’t poisoned?” she asked him. He sneered, his fangs glistening.

“You don’t, but to put your mind at ease, I’ll taste it,” he said. He walked forward, picked up a fork, and sampled everything on her plate.

“Happy?” he asked. “Mavurama wants you alive. It’s my job to follow orders. I don’t, and things end badly for me. Please, enjoy your meal. I do mean it.” The guard exited the room. The door clicked softly as the electronic locks slipped into place.

She looked down at her plate again. The food was still hot. It genuinely surprised her, the care with which every single one of her meals had been prepared. She knew she was a prisoner of their not so silent and not so secret war, but it all felt more like treatment fit for a visiting head-of-state. She saw the dislike and hate in the eyes of the three guards assigned to her, but there were never any verbal threats of violence. It was clear Mavurama commanded a lot of respect from his troops. She secretly admired and envied him for it.

Ruvuma had feared for her life when she first woke up in her cell. A fresh batch of clothes had waited on the bed beside her, a shower at one end of the room, shower gels, clean towels all at her disposal. The fear faded away as she realized, slowly, that these Vamps meant her no harm. An officer called Pang had come to see her; she appeared to be Mavurama’s right-hand woman because the guards didn’t give her an ounce of shit. She was in every day since then to check on Ruvuma, always asking how she was doing. Ruvuma told her the same thing; she was doing fine and requested every time Pang showed up, morning and evening if she could speak to Pang’s superior officer. Pang always smiled and said that her superior officer was currently unavailable.

Two weeks passed by, and she still had no idea where she was. Pang always refused to tell her. She knew it was pointless to think of escaping. She was in a ship with close to a thousand blood-sucking, teleporting vampires who moved faster than flies. So she waited and hoped that Mavurama would have the decency to visit, even if it were just to spit at her.

She laughed as she poked at her food. Decency. She’d spent the past five years hunting him down like a rat. He didn’t owe her anything. If the only thing he did was spit at her, then she would be lucky.

Ruvuma finished her meal, cleaned herself up in the bathroom, and stretched out on her bed. She wore civilian garb. Her uniform hung in a closet in the wall behind her bed.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay like that when she heard the faint click of the door as it unlocked. Drovic reappeared, coming in to remove her dishes.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” he asked.

“My compliments to the Chef,” she said sincerely.

‘Hey, is there any chance I can see your Boss?’ she asked. Drovic smiled at the other guard standing at the door. She was female; her name was Tatiana.

“I thought your meal was to your satisfaction?” Tatiana asked. Both guards snickered.

“Very funny,” Ruvuma said. “I want to see your Boss about other issues, like when I am getting out of here. You know who I’m talking about. I want to see Mavurama.”

The two guards did not respond, Tatiana stepping aside as Drovic walked through the doorway with the food tray.

“I will pass your request on to Lieutenant Pang,” she said. She bowed and stepped backwards, the door sliding back into place.

Ruvuma stared at the closed door.

“That’s what you said the last time I asked you,” she said quietly.

Time passed, and she continued staring up at the ceiling, listening for any sound around her. She eventually closed her eyes, but her hearing remained alert.

She had seen the bright flash; her brain didn’t have time to recognize that the azure light was a vampire teleporting right in front of her. She was temporarily blinded, and hands grabbed her by the shoulders and feet. The sensation that followed next was one she was not accustomed to. Her body felt like it was being cut up painlessly, into a million pieces, and she felt she was everywhere, spread out across time and space. The sensation had only lasted for a few seconds, but her brain would never forget it. Painless as it had been, it was one she wouldn’t care to repeat. The next sensation had been a cold floor, bare and hard as steel. She opened her eyes. Mavurama, or someone resembling him, stood over her.

“Welcome Captain Ruvuma,” was all he said before she passed out.

She hadn’t seen that person when she woke up a few hours later.

Another soft clicking sound; the electronic lock on her door sounded once again as someone accessed it. The door opened.

Drovic stepped into the room, moving off to the side. Tatiana, who was right behind him, stepped off in the opposite direction. Ruvuma propped herself sideways onto one elbow, an amused frown and smile on her face.

“Dessert?” she asked. A third figure appeared in the doorway. Ruvuma bolted upright, swinging her feet over the sides and jumping to her feet. The guards didn’t flinch a muscle. Her movements on any given day were all but sluggish in their eyes.

The figure in the doorway grinned.

“Captain Ruvuma. You look agitated. That’s not good for your heart.”

“Commander Mavurama, a pleasure to see you. Finally. Do you always keep your guests waiting for weeks on end?”

Mavurama chuckled.

“You aren’t my guest, Captain. You are my prisoner. Big difference,” Mavurama said. He turned to the two guards, giving them a knowing glance. They saluted and left the room silently, the door sliding shut behind them. Mavurama stood with his fingers laced together, a light smile still on his lips, his eyes fixed on Ruvuma. She noticed he wasn’t armed.

So, this is the man she had spent the better part of the last five years of her life chasing down, from one part of space to the next. Coming so close to catching him and always falling short. Always having him slip through her fingers at the last minute. She got a good look at him and liked what she saw.

Over time she had come to admire Mavurama. She would never admit it to anyone. Only Lakato had heard that confession, and that was only because Lakato had seen it clearly, so there was no use in denying it.

“You look a lot older than I remember you, Captain,” Mavurama said.

“That’s not something you say to a lady, Commander,” Ruvuma said. “Where are your manners?”

“Where are yours? You haven’t even invited me to sit down,” Mavurama said. It was her turn to laugh.

“Please, forgive me. The chair to your left.”

Mavurama sat down, never taking his eyes off Ruvuma.

“Aren’t you going to sit down, Captain?”

Ruvuma walked forward, placing herself in the chair next to Mavurama. They were set at an angle that gave them a good view of each other. It looked like they were about to conduct an interview.

“You are comfortable there?” he asked.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“I thought that with the nature of the relationship between us, you wouldn’t feel it appropriate to sit so close.”

“You haven’t poisoned, tortured or threatened me yet, so I would say there’s a pretty good chance you won’t start any funny business now,” she said. They looked directly into each other’s eyes. “Or am I mistaken?”

“You are not,” Mavurama said, never once breaking his gaze. “Your mission to exterminate me was one based on superior orders. All the troops on this ship have been in a similar situation before, so we understand it. We don’t have to like it, but we understand it all the same. So, no. No funny business of any kind. You have my word.”

“I appreciate that,” Ruvuma said. His eyes were a dark brown, his skin pale, a faint brown oxide taint to it. That was probably a result of spending too much time in the dark. His eyes were hypnotic, a window into a soul she knew little about. She wondered how much of that soul he would choose to bare.

“What am I doing here? You haven’t interrogated me, seen me until now. On top of all that, I still don’t know why you’re here. Your SIC Captain Pang hasn’t asked me any questions apart from the usual trivialities. How was my meal, and how am I finding my stay?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You continuously refused to meet me, but here you are in the flesh. So, please tell me Commander, why am I here?”

“Call me Norman,” he said.

“Ok, Norman, why am I here. We’re fighting a war, so I’m a prisoner of war. That part makes sense. But what’s the reason behind making me a prisoner of war, because right now I’m drawing a blank.”

Mavurama finally broke eye contact, his eyes moving to the ceiling, then dropping back down to the floor.

“You were too close, and we needed a breather. Your cyborg is quite the weapon. I knew it was you calling the shots, although I have to say the machine surprised me. How did you ever get Namoto to agree to it? As far as I can remember, he was dead set against the whole idea.”

“That he was, but ironically it was you that helped him arrive at a final decision, “ Ruvuma answered. Mavurama did not hide his astonishment.

“How was that?”

“You’re a problem we can’t handle. A real pain in the ass. We believed the cyborgs were the only things that could match your strength and speed.”

“I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t an effective move. It was,’ Mavurama said. ‘And to answer your question. Having you here slows down the Emperor’s hunting machine. Lieutenant Lakato might be up to the task of filling in your shoes, but she isn’t you, and that’s what we’re counting on. She hasn’t really proven to be much of a challenge. She will never be you.”

That was news to Ruvuma. During her entire stay in her prison quarters, she heard nothing of the outside world; Pang refused to tell her anything concerning that either. It was only logical that Lakato assumed command of the task force; she had been with Ruvuma right from day one, right from the time the Nami rebelled and fled the Belts. Ruvuma never imagined that it would come to this. Ruvuma had clearly underestimated Mavurama; retaliating the way he had was unexpected. She had a lot of unanswered questions, but she doubted Mavurama would oblige her with the answers. She was, after all, still his sworn enemy.

But as she looked at him, she questioned why she hunted him down in the first place. He was not the monster they thought. There were a lot of vampire groups still out there, some responsible for hundreds of brazen crimes. But Mavurama was different. The use of his intelligence, the way he had ordered his troops into a force to be reckoned with, how he managed to evade capture, how he had never reciprocated with death or unnecessary violence separated him from the rest. All that in the face of her relentless pursuit and he could still find it within himself to treat her like a member of the Royal Family.

“Or maybe you’re just fattening me up for the final sacrifice?” she asked suddenly.

Mavurama burst out laughing.

“Captain.”

“Janet.”

“Janet, don’t be ridiculous. You know we don’t tap blood right from the source. That’s an overly dramatic way to pick up a host of ghastly diseases. That is only done in the direst situations, which existed for the past three years. It’s impossible to run blood through a purification process when you are constantly on the run. Ever tried eating while in motion?” he asked, a bright light burning in his eyes. It was as if they were on fire.

“Yeah, got indigestion,” she said. Mavurama burst out laughing again.

“Well, I see you get the idea,” he said. “I’ve already told you why you’re here. It’s really that simple, and that’s all I can say on the matter.”

“All you can say or all you choose to say?”

“You are a leader of men and women, an officer with her orders. As such, you understand that there are things I can’t tell you. You are still under orders to kill me, so you will forgive me if I’m not liberal with my thoughts and economical with my words. We all live in dangerous times. At least you don’t need to look over your shoulder every day, Janet,” he said.

“I just might, considering what’s happened. How sure can I be that one of you won’t come popping out of thin air and haul me away again?” she asked.

‘And how sure can I be that I won’t have any more cyborgs hiding in the shadows, waiting to take us out?’ he asked, leaning closer. They stared into each other’s eyes again. Her heart beat faster, and her stomach tightened.

“Touché,” she said.

“Touché indeed,” he said. “This meeting is our first and final, Janet. I had a feeling our paths would cross like this someday, you sitting there, me sitting here like this. It was a playful thought, casual and fanciful. I believed it would happen, just not so soon or like the way I had imagined it. But here it is, the moment we’ve both been waiting for. To stare into the eyes of our mortal enemy, to find ourselves asking questions, like what the sense behind all this really is,” he paused. “Do you have an answer, my dear Janet?”

She stared into his eyes, her thoughts blank.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” she said. Mavurama stared at her for a few seconds, then rose to his feet.

“Captain, it’s been an interesting five years. But all things must come to an end.”

27

GINNER AVENUE, UPTOWN MUZU, MUZU, PLANET GAIA

The two men sat beside each other, Captain Gamin watching them from the reverse side of the observation glass. He had his arms folded across his chest, brooding and silent. Lieutenant Lin stood alongside his boss, glancing at him every now and then from the corner of his eyes. Captain Gamin had said nothing for the past ten minutes. Lin wanted to know what he was thinking.

“Lieutenant Lin, why do you keep stealing peeks in my direction?” Gamin said suddenly. “Is there a fly on my nose?”

“I beg your pardon, Sir, nothing like that at all. I just wanted to know what’s on your mind, if that isn’t too much of an intrusion,” Lin replied.

“It is an intrusion but…” Gamin said. “My thoughts are always on the Job, ninety–nine percent of the time. The other one percent is something no one needs to know about, except for my wife and family. My thoughts now are Job thoughts, thoughts centered on those two men in the room beyond this glass. They look pretty calm for guys who were abducted by seven-foot cannibals, wouldn’t you say so, Lin?”

“I never thought about that,” Lin admitted. “But now that you’ve mentioned it, they do awfully calm. Were the same way when we picked them up on that feeder road outside Amo.”

“You should pay more attention to the small things, Lin. It’s the small things that count. It’s those small things that no one notices, that you notice, that make you stand out of the crowd. You’ll make Captain faster if you learn to hone your skills. The larger picture is merely a collection of all the elusive details.”

“Right, Sir.”

“So, let’s look at it like this,” Gamin went on. “Here we have two men, professionals, doctors, who were abducted by creatures few people have ever seen before. They’re sitting side by side with not a single scratch on them and as far as the doctors told us. Look, they’re even making small talk...you would have thought after such a tragic experience, they’d be blabbering silly, screaming their heads off, PTSD, you know, that kind of thing. You saw the footage Tuli showed us. Those things are like demons out of hell, and yet these guys are talking about…what are they talking about anyway?” Gamin motioned for Lin to flip on the intercom.

“How long do you think they’re going to keep us in here, Red?”

“Until we’ve spoken to Tuli,’ Red answered. “That was our condition. We’re not leaving here until we’ve talked to her.”

“See that?” Gamin said, gesturing for the intercom to be turned off. “They keep talking inconsequential nonsense, nothing that lets us know what happened to them the two days they were missing. Don’t you think that’s strange, Lin?”

“Yes, Sir. Strange too how they refuse to answer any of our questions.”

“But it’s the way they’ve managed to remain so calm in the light of all this that has me intrigued,” Gamin said. “They know something we don’t. That’s a conclusion that’s corroborated by the fact that they asked to see Captain Tuli. We didn’t know about her until she made a deliberate effort to contact us; she’s Special Ops, a ghost, so how would they know about her? We never mentioned her to either of them. Where is Captain Tuli anyway?”

“She’s on her way,” Lin said. At that very moment, the door opened, its hinges creaking softly. Mayor Coleho walked in, followed by Captain Tuli.

“Speak of the devil,” Captain Gamin said. Coleho ignored the comment.

“Good afternoon, Captain, Detective,” he said. “Captain Tuli informs me that the two men would like to see her. I was on my way over here as soon as I heard that they’d been found, safe and in one piece.”

“Yes, well I guess these Carni are not fond of the dry academic types. Politicians, now those on the other hand, are far juicier and would make for a more interesting three-course meal,” Gamin said. Lin laughed, Coleho scowled.

“Your sense of humor is in poor taste, Captain,” Coleho said.

“You’ve got one too, Mayor,” Gamin said. “You just made a pun right there.”

“Gentleman, if we’ve finished with the pleasantries, could we please shift our attention to the matter at hand,” Tuli said. She was in military uniform, bags under her eyes. “Have they said anything to you, anything at all?”

“Not yet. They asked for you specifically and said they would only leave here once they talked to you,” Lin replied. “We had to oblige them, there’s no knowing what they would have said or done once they left. They’ve been here for three days. The Carni left them miles up in the mountain town of Amo, north-east of the Amber Forest. The town locals gave us a ring, and we went to go fetch them.”

“How would they know to ask for you by name, Captain?” Gamin asked.

“I think I have an idea how,” Tuli said. “Captain Gamin, please accompany me. I think your presence will encourage them to believe what I say. If they know you are aware of what’s been going on, they won’t think I’m going to off them once they’re out of your custody. You’ll act as a witness. Mayor Coleho, may I ask that you wait here with Lieutenant Lin, who will be listening in?”

Gamin followed Tuli as she went out through a second door on their right. The two men turned quickly as both captains entered the room.

“Gentleman,” Tuli said, taking a seat at the table, Gamin doing the same. “On behalf of the Emperor, I wish to express my relief at your safe return by your captors,” she said. As Gamin watched and listened, he got the impression that Tuli wasn’t usually in the position of talking to people who knew as much as she did.

“Thank you, Captain,” Nhlane said. “We’re thankful to be back.”

Tuli rubbed her lips with one hand, looking at the two men closely.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s not pretend we don’t know what all this is about. I know why you want to see me, so let’s get straight to it,” Tuli said, dropping her hand back to the table-top. “What did the Carni tell you? Captain Gamin here tells me you refused to say anything until you saw me. He has his own questions and needs to know what happened. The public and media will have to be told something. Your disappearance was high profile.”

“We understand Captain,” Dr. Nhlane said. “You tell us. Is it true that the Carni are the second part of an imperial government experiment that was used to fight the Belt Wars?”

“Yes, they are,’ Tuli replied. “You’ve said the second part. They told you about the Vamps?”

“They did,” Dr. Nhlongo answered. “Is that part true as well?”

Tuli went on to explain everything to them briefly, answering all their questions. They, in turn, narrated how they were held captive, Gamin taking down notes, leaving out the classified bits. He would have to come up with a credible story, one that would satisfy the public and all those reporters who were too inquisitive for their own good. They were the worst kind because they never knew when to stop asking their damn questions and just go away and be thankful that some of their questions were answered. A credible version of events would not be easy to come up with.

“Is there anything else you would like to ask, gentleman?” Tuli asked after she’d finished. The two men said no.

“This mission is still on-going. There are thousands of men and women involved in tracking the different groups down. We’ve been able to ensure the safety of everyone involved by keeping the truth of this war a closely guarded secret. Both of you will have to be sworn to secrecy regarding the events that occurred in the Amber forest, including Dr. Gana. Captain Gamin and you will work on a cover story that will be the official version we’ll present to the public and media. Can I be assured of your co-operation in this matter, gentleman?”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“As soon as we have all this sorted out, you will not be bothered by any member of my organization or the police. Is that in order, Captain Gamin?”

“Absolutely,” Gamin said.

“We’ll keep quiet about everything we’ve seen and heard,” Dr. Nhlane said. “We have a message though from Zael, the leader.”

Tuli raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“A message?” she asked. “What is it?”

“Zael told us to tell you: ‘We are not all animals. Looks can be deceiving,’” Dr. Nhlane said.

A weak smile tugged at Tuli’s lips.

“They could have fooled me,” she said. She thanked them again and left with Captain Gamin close behind her.

“Do you think there’s anything they didn’t choose to tell us?” Lin asked Captain Tuli. She watched Nhlane and Nhlongo. They sat quietly at the interrogation table, almost looking relieved.

“No,” she answered. “They said all they had to say. They’ve given us a name, and it confirms our theory that there is a Carni pack leader and not a Vamp leading the group.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Lin asked.

“Depends on how you look at it,” she said. “These particular Carni are keeping their violence to a minimum. They treated the two doctors better than most prisons treat their inmates. It’s in line with war treaties and conventions, things the Vamps as fire-team leaders had to commit to memory.”

“They mentioned they were in some sort of fancy holding cell, power, hot baths, food and comfortable lodgings in general,” Gamin said. “Where would the Carni have obtained all that? Hot water and food mean power, power is lighting, the lighting means electrical connections. I could go on and on.”

Tuli looked at Gamin.

“What is it that you’re trying to say, Captain?” she asked.

“What I’m trying to say is that there are a lot of discrepancies in this whole thing.”

“Discrepancies like what?” Tuli asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Gamin said, tucking his palm-sized notebook into an inside jacket pocket.

“Like how the two doctors were found in the town of Amo, which is more than a hundred miles north-east of the Amber Forest region. How did they get there and why would they be there in the first place, if the Amber region was the place they initially disappeared from?”

“Go on Captain,” she said patiently, unmoved by Gamin’s line of questioning.

“I think they weren’t even in the Amber Forest region to begin with. They were held in the Savannah Plains region, which now has a gigantic, mother of all craters in its forest. Your Red-Coast fever warning made sure to include that region as well as the Amber, ensuring no one would go poking their nose out there. It worked, and the fire-teams you sent in to take them down didn’t manage to stop the Carni escaping. It still baffles people how such a huge crater could have appeared out of nowhere, but everything is starting to make sense now,” he pushed his hat back, pausing for a split second.

“The power tools and all the other equipment the Carni stole weren’t just for constructing tunnels. They were for building a ship. That’s where the doctors were being held. And judging from the width and depth of that crater, I’d have to say it’s one big frakking ship. There were bright lights reported over the Aurula Mountains, just off the outskirts of Amo town. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, a severe snowstorm occurred on this day. No one dared come out of their houses, and the sky was as dark as a monkey’s ass. No one saw anything else apart from the bright lights. Some thought it was a comet, others thought explosions. No one really cared. Next thing we get a call saying two men have appeared out of the storm on the doorstep to one of the hostels. No one can figure out how they got there, and all the two men say is they got lost on one of the mountain roads. Funny thing is they have no car, and we can’t find one after the storm dies down. Heck, maybe it was blown away. Anyhow, no one recognizes them, but when we pick them up, we do.”

“You have it all figured out, Captain,” Tuli said, suddenly looking very tired. “What more do you want me to say?”

“What more do I want you to say?” Gamin said, in mock surprise. “Nothing you haven’t been saying, so I’ll say it. When people go missing in this city, I would appreciate it if you didn’t lie through your pearly whites about how you would like to work with local authorities, blah blah blah, when you have no intention of doing that. The only thing you’ve been interested in is making sure your tight and cute little ass was covered during this whole time. Don’t worry, it is, always has been, by those fancy army pants of yours. It wasn’t fair of you to say to me: show me yours and you don’t show me yours. We were all on the same team here. You’re just lucky the Carni are not as animalistic as you painted or we would be talking about what femur or spinal cord belonged to which doctor. The Carni don’t take trophies do they, Captain?”

“No, Captain,” she answered, her shoulders sagging. “They don’t. Forgive my manners, Captain Gamin, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand that I had orders.”

“I do understand that, which is why I accept your apology,” Gamin said. “Just try to make our job a lot easier next time.”

“I hope there won’t be a next time,” Tuli said. “Once that ship left, it seemed every last Carni on Gaia was on board.”

“Really?” Coleho said, his hands pressed together. “That is certainly good news. A celebration is in order. I’m buying.”

“I’ll kindly pass, Mayor,” Tuli said. “My job is far from over.”

“We’ll take you up on your offer Mr. Mayor,” Gamin said. “And we drink the expensive stuff.” The blood drained from Coleho’s face.

“Do you have any idea where they next destination might be?” Lin asked.

“That’s classified information, and since they have left Gaia, the case is no longer within your jurisdiction,” Tuli said.

Tuli left with Mayor Coleho back to Fort Rionga, in a better mood than Gamin had seen him for months.

“What now, Captain?” Lin asked.

“We put a little bow neatly on this thing and send the two good doctors out of here with another admonition to keep their overeducated mouths shut. They can’t be more than twenty-five. They’re all young but not stupid. We cook up stories that are in-sync with each other, including all the facts that are public knowledge. We do all that and then send the Doctors on their merry way. We get back to our jobs and leave the science fiction to the Emperor. Everyone walks away a winner.”

“And the Carni, Sir,” Lin said. “Do you think we’ll see them again?”

“I hope not,” Gamin said. “Better them up there than down here.”

28

THE PREDATOR, DEEP SPACE, FIVE HOURS AFTER ESCAPE FROM GAIA

Zael’s huge frame stood behind his Flight Control officer. His eyes moved to the dozens of smart screens in front of him, swathed with boxes that snapped open and shut intermittently, an endless stream of data on display.

“Anything to report, Chaon?” he asked.

“The reactors are working just fine, all things considered. We left Gaia in quite a hurry, so the need for some potential tweaking may arise as we go along. You’d have to get a real-time status report from Task down in Engineering, but everything checks out on the computers.”

“Excellent. Vaz, what about that Red Herring signal we sent out just after we entered deep space, did the Military pick it up?” he asked his Communications Officer.

“They did as soon as we entered the exo-sphere over Gaia. They were still tracking it last time I checked, about four hours ago,” she said.

Zael’s canines glistened.

“Very good,” he said. “Time to change course. Continue to broadcast the signal at full strength. They’ll soon discover that we’re no longer headed in that direction, but let’s hope and pray it’s after we’ve disappeared. Plot our new course and set the countdown for the jump,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” Chaon answered. Zael made his way out of the flight room, getting into a lift that would take him down one level. He looked around at the ship, its white and newly polished interior gleaming. A feeling of deep satisfaction spread through his chest. They had done it, built themselves a star-ship right from scratch. His troops had laughed at first, as had the other Carni scattered throughout the burrows on Gaia. He’d obtained blueprints from Mavurama for a deep space vehicle when they fled Dumeron. He didn’t understand at the time why he had even taken them. Or why Mavurama bothered to give them to him in the first place. He had shown his troops that it could be done if they worked hard and were determined enough. They had been not intellectually endowed with high IQs like the Vamps, but something happened afterwards that changed all that, something no one could explain. It was as if one day they had all woken from a deep slumber; they could now comprehend things they never would have attempted to understand before. That was when it had all began to come together, when they had decided that guerrilla tactics weren’t getting them anywhere. Realizing that one day, the Emperor would send enough bombs to bury them in their burrows.

He wasn’t sure if the same ‘awakening’ had occurred with the other Carni galaxy-wide. Maybe it had something to do with the environment on Gaia. He didn’t know, and for now, the source of their transformation was of little concern. His major concern was getting out of range long enough from the Military’s tracking network, so they could reach their next destination in relative ease and comfort. That would give them enough time to spare to put the next phase of their escape plan into motion.

On the move, he thought, always on the move.

The lift came to a silent stop, and he disembarked, saluted by several officers as he hurried down the corridor. A glass wall separated him on either side from the cryo-units.

“Commander Zael, a pleasure.”

“Same here, Lieutenant Pyron,” he gestured at the glass. “How are the bodies?”

“Intact,” Lieutenant Pyron said. “We’re still administering the pharmaceuticals. We discovered a few with flesh-eating bacteria in their lower intestines and are isolating those. We’ll need more bodies soon to meet the requirements of the wounded in the infirmary. Our reserves are not up to required levels.”

“We’re still working on a plan to deal with the shortage,” Zael said. The lights above flickered. The ship had just made the jump he’d ordered. “Keep me posted,” he continued. “Our survival depends on the smooth running of this Cryo-Chamber.”

‘Yes, Sir,’ Pyron saluted, giving her head a tight nod.

Zael continued down the corridor, peering in through the glass at the silver cryo-units. The design of their cryo-unit was similar to the Stasis-Chamber employed on Mavurama’s ship, with fundamental technical differences. They harvested solid protein, while the Vamps filtered some of that protein into their blood-wine. Zael had known long ago, even in his unenlightened state, that the obscene amount of human flesh the Carni were so used to during the Old War was not something sustainable after they’d fled.

With that in mind, he’d ordered the science lab to experiment with a new type of fusion-meat, that combined animal as well as human protein. The idea was to alter animal cells to human cells, thereby increasing the portions. It meant they would need little actual human flesh in the future. Hunting animals had all the benefits of being much more exciting, challenging and far less conspicuous than hunting men. It was also less reprehensible. The fusion-flesh was still in its experimental stage, and it was much too early to say whether or not the trials would yield anything fruitful.

He walked back up to the main deck. His stomach rumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, his mind preoccupied with getting them all safely off Gaia. He felt slightly weak and realized he had been ignoring the hunger. He changed direction and decided it was time to have that forgotten meal.

“Sir.” Lydia approached him from an adjoining corridor.

“Lydia,” he smiled “Care to join me for lunch?”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’ve already eaten,” she replied.

“Do you ever know who you’re eating, Lydia? Do you ever ask?”

“I prefer not to be that intimate with my meals, Sir,’ she said. ‘It only gets in the way of enjoying the food.”

“That’s quite true,” he said. “Is there something you would like to ask me about?” She fell into step, their footsteps echoing along the hallway.

“We made the jump into deep space a few minutes ago, thereby altering course,” she said, a quizzical look on her face.

“I altered our course after laying a false signal. It’s been moving around ever since we left Gaia to convince our pursers that we’re heading for Anja. Going there would be completely asinine. We would never remain undetected long enough to get what we so desperately need at the moment. If we can get to our rendezvous point before the Military figures out we’ve been dicking with them, then we have nothing to worry about. We aren’t ready for ship-to-ship combat. This star-ship is nothing more than a fancy cruise liner.”

“I’m just coming from Research and Development. The cyborg you disabled is packing a lot of secondary weapons it never got around to using. It’s, uh, quite the killing machine. Still don’t know how a lot of it works though, but the guys down there are hopeful they’ll figure it out.”

“You still don’t think we should use it as barter?” Zael said, stopping suddenly.

“No. There can’t be many like it in existence. We should hold onto it.”

“Which is why it would prove such a valuable bargaining chip, my dear Lydia. You may have a point, that it might be worth holding onto, but only if we get it to work and can reprogram it. Don’t forget, there’s a kill list in that pretty little head, and we’re right at the top. As soon as we arrive at the rendezvous point, let me know. I’ll be in the diner having my lunch.”

“It’s early evening, Sir. Standard Imperial time.”

“Ok, my supper then.”

29

THE RUSAMBA, DEEP SPACE

Mavurama stood in the war room of The Rusamba, surrounded by his officers. He had called them to discuss the next phase of their plan; it was time to leave the shadow of the Satellite Belts, and they all knew it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said. The room quieted down.

“Some of you are aware by now, that Captain Janet Ruvuma is a prisoner abroad this ship.” A few of the officers glanced at each other, but no one interrupted him.

“Some of you heard rumors to this effect, now you know that her presence abroad this ship is a fact. With Captain Ruvuma’s capture, the hunt for the Nosferatium Superius has reduced in its intensity and determination. You have all seen this for yourselves. That respite has bought us the time we need to move to the next part of our journey. Time is all we needed. We’ve all heard the saying ‘a rolling stone gathers no moss.’ That was true in the past, it’s the truth now, but in a few months time, we’ll have grown so much moss, we’ll all be frakking trees.”

The room burst into laughter and cheering.

“This is my promise to you,” Mavurama went on. “We’ve been hiding in the shadows and became monsters in the process. We are far from that. We are fearless warriors, the most dedicated the known galaxy has ever seen. The Emperor knows this. They refused to give us independence and would rather take our lives from us instead. We’ve earned our respect, we’ll continue to fight for our independence, and we’ll guard our lives with the utmost diligence.” More cheering, whistles, and applause.

“I will contact some of you with respective orders for each of your fire-teams. The rest of you are to be on stand-by,” Mavurama said.

The meeting dispersed, Mavurama remaining alone with Pang.

“Is the ship ready?” he asked her.

“Yes, it is Sir.”

“And you’ve contacted Lieutenant Lakato?”

“Yes, Sir. We sent the communication via a drone to the space station on Dor. They say they’ll be there waiting, but only if they have proof the Captain is still alive and that it’s not an ambush.”

“I’m sure Captain Ruvuma’s message is more than enough to quell their doubts,” Mavurama looked down at the smart screen in front of him. It showed a map of their part of space. The information was relayed from the main control room and showed their current position.

“Do you think they know we obtained a probe?” Pang asked.

“They might, but what are they going to do about it?” Mavurama said. “They are more concerned right now with getting Ruvuma back in one piece. We won’t be around when they get her back, so they won’t have the pleasure of being able to pay us back for all the grief and embarrassment we’ve caused them.”

The door slid open with a sharp mechanical buzz. A female officer walked into the room, a folded piece of paper in one hand, saluting with the other.

“Sergeant Mirvich.”

“Sir,” she said. “I’ve received a communication from someone claiming to be a Carni going by the name of Zael on a scrambled channel,” she handed the paper to Mavurama.

“I thought it might be the Military attempting to set a trap. I did not respond but still received the message and thought I should bring it over right away.”

Mavurama opened the paper out and read it together with Pang. Pang whistled.

“That’s a detailed message. He mentions things only Zael could know. They actually managed to build a star-ship?”

“I noticed back on Dumeron that some of the Carni were evolving mentally. It has to be something latent in their genetic coding. Zael asked me for blueprints of the star-ship we were building. After the falling out we had with the Carni, I wasn’t too sure what happened to Zael. Zael doesn’t say how many troops he has under his command, but if he used my ship designs, he would have needed a lot more than a handful of men to put his own ship together.”

“How did he manage to evade the Military all that way?”

“Another little present I gave him before we scrammed out of there. The software I had you write up,” Mavurama said.

“The Evasion programs?” Pang said. “Those are antiques.”

“It can only mean Zael has updated them,” Mavurama said, a thoughtful smile spreading across his face. “Who would have ever thought the Carni would be capable of using their skulls for more than just head butting, hmm?”

“You want to go ahead with the rendezvous? He says he has something you might be interested in, something that would be of more value to you than to him, in exchange for bodies,” Pang said, rereading the note Mavurama had handed to her.

“If he’s asking for bodies, then he must really be desperate. Whatever he has is no small thing. Send this reply,” he said to Mirvich. “Message received. Will be there at the time and place given. Norman.”

“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir,” Mirvich saluted and left quickly.

“He has a ship now,’ Pang said. ‘Which means he needs everything we have. What’s to say he won’t try to take over ours?”

“Because now they’re smarter than they were a few years ago. The Carni might be as big as mountains and built like bulldozers, but we are still faster. We can take them on any day. If it’s a fight he’s looking for, then we are more than ready. We’ve been sitting around for weeks, I know how itchy everyone is for a bit of leg action, but I doubt offing us is part of Zael’s bigger plan. Whatever he’s offering, it won’t hurt us to see what it is, so we’ll go. If it is an ambush, well, then heaven help him. I’ll be damned before I let a meat-eater get the drop on me.”

“In the meantime, however, we need to prepare Ruvuma for her departure,” Mavurama folded his arms across his chest, back to studying the star-map displayed on the light-table. “We have an hour to do that. Once we get confirmation that she’s made it safely to the pick-up point, we can make our way on to the meeting with Zael. I want a final report within the next thirty minutes from Trait on all the progress the probe has made.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s the name you suggested again for this whole operation, Captain?” Mavurama.

“Operation Burial,’ Sir.”

“Quite fitting. Let’s put those final nails in the coffin, shall we?”

30

THE PREDATOR, RENDEZVOUS POINT

Zael and his Second-In-Command waited in the hangar bay of their ship, a few dozen soldiers standing behind them. The deck had been cleared of everything non-essential. As Zael looked around, he noticed casually, how spacious it was.

“I can’t believe he responded,” Lydia said. “The Vamps always had a superiority complex, looking down their noses at the rest of us.”

“Can you blame them?” Zael said, smiling. “They the brains of the whole war after all. We took orders from them without question. They’re still a lot smarter, and they can teleport, which I think is totally cool by the way,” he laughed. “But you shouldn’t confuse Mavurama with Katana. If it hadn’t been for him, we wouldn’t be here today. He could have completely ignored our request for a meeting and continued with wherever it is he’s leading his troops. Let’s be thankful he didn’t. And Lydia, please, remember your manners.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Zael looked at the watch on his wrist.

“It’s time,” he said quietly.

A bright, blue-green flash tore the air into strips, dissipating and fizzling out in tiny pin-pricks. The vamp standing on the other side of the yellow line straightened up.

“Commander Zael?” it asked.

Zael took a step forward.

“I am he,” Zael said.

“Commander Mavurama requests permission to come aboard,” it asked. It wore full combat gear and helmet with a sword strapped to its back.

“Permission granted,” Zael answered. The vamp bowed, the air instantly filled with simultaneous, blinding flashes; Zael had to shield his eyes, but he’d ordered his men to wear sun-filters just in case Mavurama had other plans. The last thing they needed was to get side-swiped by the Vamps.

He opened them, counting thirty vamps in total. He recognized Mavurama’s tall, six-foot frame almost immediately, standing at the front of the group.

Zael took another step forward until he was a few inches from the thick yellow line that ran down the middle of the hangar.

“Z.”

“Mav,” Zael held out his hand. Mavurama removed his helmet, the pieces sliding out of sight, attaching themselves to the back of his armor. He took Zael’s hand, and they shook.

“I can see we’re all a little more paranoid than I remember,” Mavurama said.

“Circumstances are responsible for that,” Zael said. “We’ve been on the run for years. Even the shadows bite these days.”

Mavurama smiled, looking around round the hangar, his eyes soaking in all the detail. Always the typical vamp, Zael thought. Nothing ever goes unnoticed.

“Love what you’ve done with my designs,” he said. “She’s a lot bigger than I had imagined, but then again you chaps aren’t midgets. Have we established that we won’t be stabbing each other in the back?” Zael chuckled, his amber eyes flashing.

“Yes, we’ve seen enough back-stabbing to last us a long time. We have serious matters to discuss. I wouldn’t have risked all this simply to get into a pointless battle with you. My quarters?”

Mavurama nodded and motioned to Pang and three other officers to follow.

They made their way down the ship’s corridors, Zael’s troops stepping out of the way as they passed through.

“Everyone knew you were coming, so they aren’t too surprised,” Zael said. “In fact, most, including Lydia here, were a bit baffled that you even accepted our invitation.”

“Nothing personal,” Lydia said, “But our last experience with you vamps wasn’t exactly something you’d reserve for storytelling during happy hour.”

“You guys have happy hour?” Pang asked. Lydia scowled, annoyed.

“No, we don’t have happy hour, but you’re smart enough to get my point,” she said.

They got to Zael’s private quarters. Mavurama had two of his men stand guard out in the corridor, another on the inside by the door.

“You still don’t trust me?” Zael asked.

“The state of a man’s mind is like the state of his digestion,” Mavurama said. “You have a lot of people on this ship who may not share your opinion.”

“They’re soldiers,” Zael said. “They don’t have to like what they’re told, but they know damn well they have to follow orders. But I understand the nature of your unease, so we’ll just leave it at that.”

“What is this thing you think I’ll be interested in?” Mavurama said, his legs folded, his hands in his lap where Zael could see them.

“It’s a machine, a very interesting machine,” Zael said. He watched Mavurama closely. “You know the machine I’m speaking of, don’t you?”

Mavurama and Pang didn’t flinch.

“We might,” Mavurama replied. “Looks like a girl, fights like an angry woman, and kicks like a thousand men?”

Zael smiled, scratching his chin with a long nail.

“Precisely. It followed two of our scouts back into our burrow on Gaia. Butchered its way through more than fifty of my people before it got to the ship, breached our main access door and got on board. We were still underground then-“

“You built this ship underground?” Pang asked, clearly impressed.

“We had no choice,” Lydia said. “The Military was looking everywhere for us. Gaia has large forests, but not even those were big enough to hide us.”

“What happened after the machine got in?” Mavurama asked.

“It killed a few more of my men before we finally took it down,” Zael said.

“How did you manage that?” Mavurama asked.

“Brute force,” Zael said. “We had no idea what it was at the time but slamming it hard against the ground seemed to do the trick. We managed to get it off-line, and it’s stayed that way ever since leaving Gaia. It doesn’t seem to have an auxiliary power source. If it has, that’s off-line too.”

“It’s in one solid piece then,” Mavurama said.

“After a fashion. I had my people take it apart after the assault, but then we put it back together again. I removed the head, haven’t put that back but apart from that, it’s intact. What was your encounter like?” Zael asked.

“Unfortunate,” Mavurama said. “It wasn’t out to kill any of us, just hurt us badly, which it did. That was on a brothel back on Ardor where we were looking for bodies. My people got out of there by the skin of their teeth. Unlike you, we never had the chance of figuring out what it was, but your explanation makes sense,” Mavurama paused, leaning closer, placing his hands on the table.

“I wouldn’t want to pre-empt anything you’d want to say, so I’ll ask what are you proposing, Zael? In your message, you mentioned bodies.”

“That I did,” Zael said, his hands bridged together, resting them against his chin. “My troops took one hell of a beating back on that planet. Our infirmary is full of wounded who are in dire need of extra rations of HDA. We don’t have enough onboard to meet that demand. We don’t get those extra rations, they won’t heal properly. Or worse yet, they die.”

Mavurama drummed his fingertips against the wooden table.

“Still waiting for the bottom line, Zael,” he said.

“I’m offering you the cyborg in exchange for a few of the hundred bodies I know you have onboard your ship. Don’t play dumb. You and your troops have complexions that are literally glowing. You aren’t starving,” Zael said.

“What good is a deactivated cyborg to us?” Pang said.

“It’s got weapons as part of its make-up. You’re smart enough to make them work. We’re still trying, but it’s a complex piece of machinery,” Lydia said.

Mavurama was quiet for a few minutes. He glanced at Pang, who nodded.

“Fine,” Mavurama said. “How many bodies?”

Zael looked straight at Mavurama.

“Five hundred. No more, no less,” he said.

“Fine again,” Mavurama said. “Let’s see this killing machine of yours.”

The cyborg was taken up from The Predator’s Research and Science lab to the main deck and transported back to The Rusamba. The next hour was spent moving the five hundred bodies from The Rusamba’s Stasis-Chamber to The Predator.

“All accounted for Sir,” Lydia said as the last group of vampires disappeared into thin air. They stood to the side of the hangar, watching as sedated bodies were moved on trolleys down to the Cryo-Chamber. They would not wake up for another twelve hours or so. They would never wake up once they were put into prolonged hypersleep in their new cryo-units.

“Excellent,” Zael said. “The sooner they are secured, the sooner we leave here.”

“He didn’t even try to haggle Sir,” Lydia said. “Five hundred bodies is a lot of to offer up without batting an eyelid the way Mavurama did.”

“I knew as soon as I saw Mavurama he had more than enough bodies on his hands. His troops are a lot more agile and stronger than I last remember. A vamp doesn’t get that way unless they have all the blood they need. The Stasis-Chamber on The Rusamba is probably as big as our Cryo-Chamber, maybe even bigger, which means they probably have close to three thousand bodies on broad. With that many bodies safely tucked away, Mavurama wouldn’t mind letting go of a few hundred. Knowing both him and Pang, there was no way they were going to pass up an opportunity to obtain that machine. What a stroke of luck it attacked them too; they know what it’s capable of. If they didn’t, I probably wouldn’t have been able to use it for effective bargaining. You still think it was a bad idea handing it over?”

“In retrospect, no. The Vamps are the geeks. We have all the HD we need and that had to come first.”

“Good. Now we need to organize ourselves. Have Chaon plot a course for the Biner System once the bodies are all down below. Laying low for a few weeks will be in our best interests. The troops need to get to full strength before we do anything else.”

* * *

“Apart from the decapitated head, everything else seems to be in prime condition,” Pang said. “They put it back together nicely.”

“You’re sure it’s not going to self-destruct once we get it back online?” Mavurama asked. They were in their Research and Development Lab.

“Mika is rewriting its programming. The virus will wipe its slate clean, and we can then upload our own OS. Most A.I the military experimented with had self-destruction protocols embedded within their core programming to stop them from falling into enemy hands. That this cyborg is still intact means it probably doesn’t have any. I can’t say for sure whether or not it was an oversight, cockiness, or just plain sloppiness.”

“No homing bugs or beacons either?”

“We’ve scanned for those too and found nothing. They might be present once we power it up, but I’ve made sure the new program flushes anything of the sort out as well.”

“That’s some fine work, Captain,” Mavurama. “Now, on to the more pressing matter.” They left the cyborg in the hands of the lab technicians and made their way into an adjoining room, much larger than the first. Several officers sat at computer terminals, one particular individual bent over his, lost deep in his work as his hands flew over his keyboard.

“Trait.” The officer jumped to his feet, saluting.

“You’re lucky you didn’t snap your ankles off just now,” Mavurama said. “When’s the last time you had your RDA of blood-wine?”

“I think it was a couple of hours ago,” he replied, his face sweat covered.

“I think you’re lying,” Mavurama said. “Your dilated pupils and general appearance tell me otherwise. You’re working yourself to death. You’re no use to me in this state. Is the report ready?”

Trait reached sideways and grabbed a file sitting beside his keyboard. He handed it, hands trembling to Mavurama.

“Is the Probe back?” Mavurama asked.

“Just about, it’s one hour from the edge. There were a lot of last minute calculations we had to make, a lot of data we had to sort through. Some of it didn’t make sense, but once we started to put it together, the picture became a lot clearer,” Trait said, wiping more sweat from his face.

“Tell Lieutenant Singher to have one of her staff bring down a few litres for Trait,” he said to Pang. Pang spoke quietly into her headset.

“Sit down, Lieutenant,” Mavurama said, placing an arm on Traits trembling shoulder. Trait didn’t argue, allowing himself to be guided back into his chair.

“A lot of the data didn’t make sense, but we’ve been able to decode it with the help of the Probe. There is nothing for a long way in, but then it came across what it says is a planet. We can’t be too sure because it isn’t a planet body the Probe has encountered before.”

“Maybe it’s an asteroid,” Pang said. Trait, shaking less now, blinked rapidly.

“Doubtful. The Probe would have said as much. We have a theory that the Empty Space could contain ‘things’ inside it the probe can’t make sense of because these things are ‘entities’ it’s never come across before. This trip is a first, for even the Probe. No one goes there.”

Mavurama remained quiet for a few minutes, flipping the pages of the report over slowly. He closed it after a while.

“Let me know once the Probe has docked. You have another hour to sift through any data. Do as much as you can, and not at the expense of your health Trait.”

Trait smiled embarrassedly.

“Of course not Sir,” he said.

They let Trait return to his work, one of Singher’s staff watching over him on Mavurama’s orders to make sure he drank every last drop of his blood-wine.

“What are your thoughts, Sir?’”

“It’s certainly something I wasn’t expecting Pang,” Mavurama said.

“When we sent that Probe in, I thought we would find nothing, because we’d always assumed the dead space was everyone said it was. Empty space and nothing more.”

“Would you still like to put the next part of the plan into motion? The Probe has no idea what’s in there, which means neither do we. It could be anything. That’s more than just flying blind, Sir.”

“You can say it, Pang. It’s stupid.”

“Stupid is an offensive word, Sir,” she replied. “It’s more along the lines of unnecessarily risky.”

“I would have thought by now that such words would have been the cornerstone of our vocabulary.”

“Not like this, Sir. This is something new.”

“Unchartered territory is always something new, Pang. Forgive me if that sounds condescending.”

“Don’t we have other options?”

‘We wouldn’t be discussing Empty Spaces if we did. There is nowhere else for us to go. The Emperor is determined to see us wiped out. There are hundreds of Ruvumas out there, so removing her wouldn’t solve anything. They would just send someone else.”

“Are we sure they won’t follow us?”

“We aren’t, but if you were them, would you?”

“Not if I didn’t have enough intel, I wouldn’t.”

“Look, we’ve been through shit for years and had enough near-death experiences to make us all nearly experts in the afterlife. But we’re still here. If this Empty Space business is a bummer, we’ll do a right around and spend the next ten years doing what we’ve been doing for the past five,” Mavurama said, making a face. “Unpleasant as that thought is.”

“I hope not,” Pang said, laughing. “I’m getting used to this little holiday we’ve had for the past couple of weeks.”

“Keep your fingers crossed that whatever’s in the Empty Space pans out. Our retirement is long overdue.”

31

EBORACUM, PLANET SINGULARIS

Ruvuma stood on the roof of The Vithenga Towers. The night was cold, the sky studded with stars that burned like thousands upon thousands of tiny pieces of broken glass. She looked down where the City of Eboracum burned just as brightly. It was a little after eight, the traffic still heavy. Honking horns and sirens filled the air, floating up on the icy wind that tugged and pulled at her face and hair.

“Someone told me they saw you coming up here.”

“Capri, you still around?’ Capri Tuli sauntered next to her, her hands buried in her coat pockets. Ruvuma’s gloved hands rested on the concrete edge, a few inches from the rail. It was more than a four hundred and fifty-foot drop to the bottom.

“Where else would I be?” Capri said.

“Chasing Zael?”

“Ha!” she said, blowing her cheeks out. “No luck with that. He gave us the slip. Sent us on a wild goose chase, tracking down a non-existent signal. We got to the Anja system and waited for hours. Then we discovered the signal was just a bunch of static masquerading as an actual destination signal. Zael and his troops never showed up. It’s amazing that the Carni can even conceive such tech. We don’t have anything nearly as good.”

“That’s because it’s not Carni tech. That has Vamp written all over it. From the way you described the ship, that’s clearly Vamp tech too. Mavurama again. I checked the reports on post-Belt War era. Mavurama and Zael fled Dumeron together. It makes sense that Zael would turn to him now. A lot of Mavurama’s troops have a profound respect for him and so do some of the Carni. Zael is a good example.”

They stood there, looking out into the city, past the tall skyscrapers. The tail-lights of several planes streaked through the night sky. The wind still blew past them, skittering the dirt on the roof, moving it around in small circles.

“What happened Janet?”

Ruvuma looked at Capri, an uneasy look on her face.

“What do you mean? I told you everything that happened. I was given five-star treatment, three meals a day, hot showers, silk sheets, the works. They didn’t touch a single hair on my head.”

Capri turned to face Ruvuma, leaning closer.

“Are you sure, Janet, about that last part? Because I swear you look like a woman in love.”

Ruvuma blushed, her hands raised to her face.

“Is it that obvious?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“No, but I’ve known you much longer than most people,” Capri said. “Were you intimate with Mavurama?”

Ruvuma uncovered her face, her hands bunched up into tight fists, a look of anguish in her eyes.

“It didn’t happen,” she said. “I wanted it to happen, and so did he. It’s going to make it harder to do my job now.”

“Do you love him?” Capri asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I do, but I admit I feelings for him, which will cloud my judgment,” she said dejectedly. “We’ve believed that the Vamps were bloodthirsty killers.”

“That’s because they are Janet,” Capri said.

“Mavurama isn’t.” A gust of wind blew a thread of hair into her face, and she pulled it away. “Do I continue to hunt him down simply because he’s a vamp and because he wouldn’t bow his knees to the Emperor? You’ve got the others, Radimir, Piotr, Katana, Stas, Neleus. They are ruthless murderers. No one ever imagined the Vamps would develop a conscience, but Mavurama has. But that’s not why we hunted them down in the first place. We did that because the politicians told us to. Sure, we couldn’t blame them for being scared of ruthless, mindless killing machines roaming wild and free, but things have changed now. They did what they were told, just like we’re doing. It’s crazy, but it seems to me we’re just as mindless.”

“The Gaia Carni for one are no longer mindless morons that the others we’re still tracking down are proving to be. But J I’m speaking as a friend when I say this…keep your current views to yourself. The General won’t appreciate your new perspective. If it makes you feel any better, you may not have to deliver your boyfriend’s headless body to Namoto after all.”

“Very funny, Capri. What on Singularis do you mean?”

“When we picked you up at the rendezvous point, we tried to backtrack the Vamps’ whereabouts. No luck there, but we got a report from the Satellite Belt a few hours later that the Vamps behind recent abductions of various criminal elements a few weeks ago were back to their old ways. Recent reports put the missing at close to a thousand.”

“I don’t believe it,” she said.

“Neither did we,” Tuli said. “But with you out of the way, he probably figured there wouldn’t be any cyborgs to stop them this time. Or he’s just crazy, and it was a gamble. Mavurama’s used to rolling the dice.”

“Why would he need more bodies?” Ruvuma said. “The last batch of abductions should have given him more than enough to fill his Stasis-Chamber.”

“We don’t think the bodies were for Mavurama,” Tuli said. “We think they were for Zael and his troops.”

“RDA-HF.”

“Exactly. We’ve said Zael’s ship design is similar to Mavurama’s and the signal the Carni sent out when they fled Gaia, was a destination signal to the Anja Star System.”

“The Penal Colonies, right. But they never showed up, so it’s clear that stunt was just a ruse to throw you off your game.”

“Which it did. When we sent Joan into their burrow, she wounded a lot of Carni. Your conclusion is as good as mine. They need extra RDA-HF, and they have nowhere to get it. The Red herring signal for the Anja system told us what they would have wanted to do, but had no way of doing. I think the Vamps and Carni might have met after the Vamps sent you off their ship, probably traded the bodies for something the Carni thought the Vamps would want. Zael was in no position to raid so much as a public restroom, let alone a penal colony for that extra supply of HF.”

“The missing cyborg.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Just a wild guess on my part, but when I laid out my conclusions to Namoto, he was beside himself with rage. The Carni have dropped off our radars. Zael must have obtained what he needed from Mavurama. We picked up a faint signal on the edge of the Empty Space just outside Duero. Mavurama’s star-ship. It’s disappeared into the Empty Space, and we can’t pick it up again. It’s impossible to pick up signals once you’re beyond the threshold.”

“Laurel was right,” Ruvuma said, stunned. “She said he was planning a move like this, I just didn’t think he would actually do it.”

“We assessed the aftermath of the assault on your HQ after your abduction. The Drone and Probe storage bay was attacked too. The Vamps made off with a Deep Space Probe, the type used for planet exploration, surveillance, continent and star mapping, et cetera. Could be what he used to check out that Empty Space outside the Satellite Belt, which was where they were hiding out all this time. Your boyfriend’s crazy,” Tuli said, smiling, “You might not have to worry about staking him through the heart anymore. Namoto says the Mavurama Vamps are no longer a priority. If they do come back, then the games will begin again. Until then, we focus our efforts on the remaining Nami.”

“Do you think Zael and the Carni followed Mavurama?”

“Not sure,” she said, digging her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “They might have. We may never find out.” Capri paused, a light furrow on her brow. “Are you okay, J?”

The stars above shimmered. Permanent and constant in their display and positions, no matter what time, month, or day of the year it was.

“I don’t know,” she said. Her eyes squinted against the wind, and she pressed her lips together gently.

“In all the time I’ve spent on this job, I’ve met two types of Vampire. The ruthless kind that doesn’t think twice about disemboweling anyone who gets in their way. And then there’s Mavurama. With him gone, I doubt there’s another vampire in all the Universe quite like him.”

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The story will continue in Sanctum: The Quiet War.

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About Nos Jondi

Nos Jondi was born in 1982 and raised in Lilongwe, Malawi, with a few years spent in West Germany as a child. He splits his time between working as a lawyer, a writer and a visual artist. His short story, Present Darkness, won an Honourable Mention at the 2017 Roswell Award for Sci-Fest LA’s short story Writing Contest. He still lives in Lilongwe with his wife and their twin babies.

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BLOOD BROTHERS

Sanctum Book One

By Nos Jondi

Published by Silver Empire

https://silverempire.org/

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2019, Peter-Paul Ndyani

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