2675, three evenings later
"Ayledan. That's her name," Spike comments as our tiny cruiser ship docks smoothly into the receiving bay at the third Mars colony. Although trips through Earth's atmosphere are almost instantaneous, trips through space remain slow and long. A trip to the three Mars colonies is approximately two and a half days long. When civilians travel, the travelers are required to sleep through the journey.
"And her friends? Know their names, too?" I am hefting one bag and handing Spike the second. I am in charge of supplies, transportation, and housing while Spike is in charge of information on this expedition. We are dressed in soft grey and navy blue jumpers with matching grey travel boots. Our packs are a similar grey-color, and my hair is piled on the top of my head in a functional twist.
"She has two in service of the Watchers' Council and two of her own picking." He adds, "The two she chose are demon. . . or at least, part demon."
The shuttle door dissipates, and we enter a noisy, human-filled gathering area with several floors. The dock has several shuttle portals that each open up in a main arena where people from the colonies come to retrieve guests, where visitors obtain information about travel services and conveniences, and where people frequently gather for a meal at one of the myriad of restaurants available. A mix of strange and exotic smells filter through the air from their kitchens. Transport pads deliver people or goods to the other two colonies, and advertisements line the floating ad boards, describing the latest fashions and computer devices to passersby. Two or three dance clubs of various types complete the picture. No windows line the walls because the sun's rays are too harsh even for the human colonists that live on Mars, much less the vampires.
"Really?" I ask after we gain our bearings and are heading toward one of the transport pads that leads to lodging. "What kind of demons?"
"Not sure because they are both part human. However, they are supposed to be formidable warriors. The ones employed by the Council include her Watcher and a witch named Sage."
"Sage. A warlock or witch?"
"Definitely a witch. Ayledan's Watcher is Bandel." Spike accidentally taps his shoulder against a human walking by. The man nods politely at Spike, and Spike returns the gesture.
"Bandel, Sage, and. . . ?" My pack is sliding off my shoulder, so I adjust the strap, trying not to hit anyone as we climb down a set of stairs to the main platform.
"The part-demons have no names. Information on them is pretty scarce. Perhaps because Ayledan chose them instead of the Council."
"Oh." I lean close to the eye scan device.
A beep sounds. "Cynthia Waters. You may enter."
Waiting for Spike in the doorway to the transport, I watch my lover press his eye to the machine. A second beep rings. "Joshua Henderson. You may enter." Spike grimaces at his name, making me let out a small laugh.
We enter the tiny room together and decide not to take a seat. Because the room is well-used and rarely cleaned, bits of litter, old food, and mold line the floor and seats. Seems odd to find mold on a Martian colony. The odor is oddly enough like urine or the back lot of a fairground from long ago.
"Destination?" the computer intones in a faltering voice.
"Mars, Colony Two, Lodging Number 15B," I speak slowly and clearly.
"Mars, Colony Two, Lodging Number 15B?" the computer confirms.
"Yes."
In an instant, the transport room door disappears, and Spike leads the way into a small but post living quarters. Being associated with Nabald apparently has some advantages. We set our baggage on the small metal luggage table near the entrance and head in different directions. I love exploring new living arrangements, and I doubt I'll have much time later to look around.
Spike goes immediately to the kitchen nook, opening the door to the cold closet and noting the rows of fresh cool blood. . . human blood, a rare treat. On the other hand, I notice the bed first. Bouncing onto the top of what appears to be the softest of sleeping pads, I shriek when I find myself floating on the air about a foot above the surface of the pad.
"Spike!"
My lover whips around in alarm, concern radiating from his every fiber. His fear fades to immense relief and a goofy grin when he witnesses me wearing a look of unadulterated joy and excitement. . . something he has not seen on me in over a hundred years.
"Having fun, pet?"
"Oh, gosh, yes!" I call, standing shakily on the firm cushion of air and attempting without much success to walk from one end of the bed to the other. Somehow the whole experience reminds me slightly of playing on a trampoline.
I stumble, and Spike laughs. "Careful, love."
"Like to see you do it!" I pout, partly embarrassed. My eyes widen as I realize what challenge I have just issued my lover. "Oh, crap."
With the grace of an acrobat, he leaps at the bed in one motion, tackling me into the air cushion, which miraculously keeps us from striking the bed proper's surface. I laugh wholeheartedly, and he gazes at me tenderly with amusement etched into his features.
"I love you, Buffy Summers."
"Love you, too, William. . . Henderson." Stifling a giggle, I roll away from him as he mock growls and grabs at me. At a safe distance from him, I swallow my laughter and ask, "What is this thing anyway?"
He props up his head up with his hand and arm balancing on nothing but air. Smiling gently, he says, "I think it's one of those new-fangled fake 'anti-gravity' beds that are all the rage among humans on Earth at the moment."
"Well, it's cool!" I inch closer to him and kiss him lightly. "Can't wait to sleep on it."
"Sleep on it, pet?" Spike raises one eyebrow and smirks.
"Yes, sleep. I want to take a nap before we get started," I insist, pretending not to notice his hinted innuendo.
"But you just slept for three days on the shuttle!" he reminds me, stroking my long hair.
"Well, I have to get my Mars legs, and I'm tired."
I curl up facing him. "So, what are we doing first? Where're Ayledan and her team located?"
"Miros, Nabald's contact here, is supposed to meet with us later to give us information on the slayer's whereabouts. Last Nabald heard, she was in the mines, hunting a couple of G'ticus demons who were trying to unleash a slew of Neyons onto to Mars in hopes of conquering the colonies here and forming a base operation from which to attack Earth and its neighboring space colonies."
"How did G'ticus demons get all the way to Mars?" I wonder incredulously. G'ticus demons are hardly inconspicuous, being seven feet tall and weighing three hundred plus pounds. They are also a light shade of lavender.
"Somebody smuggled them in as part of a collection of stuffed demons for a museum." Spike rolls his eyes. "Bloody idiot."
"I think I'd agree there. And they're hidden in the maze of mines? I'm amazed they got so far without detection."
"Oh, they were detected all right. After waking from space sleep, they barged through main area on Colony 3. . . where we landed. . . and headed straight for the mine transport. Didn't destroy a thing although they did frighten people quite a bit."
"Ah. And why are they conjuring Neyon demons? Don't they realize they can't control them?"
"Apparently, pet, these G'ticus demons have training in neurosurgery."
"What?!" I am floored.
"Yep, same ponce who smuggled them in was also a neurosurgeon. Taught them the trade. He considered them bloody pets."
"I've never heard of that." I pause, moving toward Spike and turning to fit my body against his. "Doesn't mean it couldn't happen." I issue a large yawn. "Naptime. Plan later."
"K, love." Spike remains on his elbow, observing me as I settle against him and close my eyes.
The door beeping startles me out of my precarious position on the edge of sleep. I jump, causing Spike to jerk as well. We give each other that look that says, "What now?" as I swing my legs off the air cushion and land with surety on my feet. Spike is by my side in a second. The house computer doesn't say who is behind the barrier.
Without us uttering a word, the door melts away to reveal a tall, slender young woman with olive-coloring. Her hair cascades to her hips in a shiny charcoal wave, and her hand clutches what can only be wooden stake.
Ayledan.
TBC. . . Okay! Hope you enjoyed the journey to Mars. . . next chapter. . . the slayer! (Still on Mars.) And her crew! Oooo. . . surprises await! Glad you guys are still having fun reading this! The comments are wonderful! :o)
"Ayledan. That's her name," Spike comments as our tiny cruiser ship docks smoothly into the receiving bay at the third Mars colony. Although trips through Earth's atmosphere are almost instantaneous, trips through space remain slow and long. A trip to the three Mars colonies is approximately two and a half days long. When civilians travel, the travelers are required to sleep through the journey.
"And her friends? Know their names, too?" I am hefting one bag and handing Spike the second. I am in charge of supplies, transportation, and housing while Spike is in charge of information on this expedition. We are dressed in soft grey and navy blue jumpers with matching grey travel boots. Our packs are a similar grey-color, and my hair is piled on the top of my head in a functional twist.
"She has two in service of the Watchers' Council and two of her own picking." He adds, "The two she chose are demon. . . or at least, part demon."
The shuttle door dissipates, and we enter a noisy, human-filled gathering area with several floors. The dock has several shuttle portals that each open up in a main arena where people from the colonies come to retrieve guests, where visitors obtain information about travel services and conveniences, and where people frequently gather for a meal at one of the myriad of restaurants available. A mix of strange and exotic smells filter through the air from their kitchens. Transport pads deliver people or goods to the other two colonies, and advertisements line the floating ad boards, describing the latest fashions and computer devices to passersby. Two or three dance clubs of various types complete the picture. No windows line the walls because the sun's rays are too harsh even for the human colonists that live on Mars, much less the vampires.
"Really?" I ask after we gain our bearings and are heading toward one of the transport pads that leads to lodging. "What kind of demons?"
"Not sure because they are both part human. However, they are supposed to be formidable warriors. The ones employed by the Council include her Watcher and a witch named Sage."
"Sage. A warlock or witch?"
"Definitely a witch. Ayledan's Watcher is Bandel." Spike accidentally taps his shoulder against a human walking by. The man nods politely at Spike, and Spike returns the gesture.
"Bandel, Sage, and. . . ?" My pack is sliding off my shoulder, so I adjust the strap, trying not to hit anyone as we climb down a set of stairs to the main platform.
"The part-demons have no names. Information on them is pretty scarce. Perhaps because Ayledan chose them instead of the Council."
"Oh." I lean close to the eye scan device.
A beep sounds. "Cynthia Waters. You may enter."
Waiting for Spike in the doorway to the transport, I watch my lover press his eye to the machine. A second beep rings. "Joshua Henderson. You may enter." Spike grimaces at his name, making me let out a small laugh.
We enter the tiny room together and decide not to take a seat. Because the room is well-used and rarely cleaned, bits of litter, old food, and mold line the floor and seats. Seems odd to find mold on a Martian colony. The odor is oddly enough like urine or the back lot of a fairground from long ago.
"Destination?" the computer intones in a faltering voice.
"Mars, Colony Two, Lodging Number 15B," I speak slowly and clearly.
"Mars, Colony Two, Lodging Number 15B?" the computer confirms.
"Yes."
In an instant, the transport room door disappears, and Spike leads the way into a small but post living quarters. Being associated with Nabald apparently has some advantages. We set our baggage on the small metal luggage table near the entrance and head in different directions. I love exploring new living arrangements, and I doubt I'll have much time later to look around.
Spike goes immediately to the kitchen nook, opening the door to the cold closet and noting the rows of fresh cool blood. . . human blood, a rare treat. On the other hand, I notice the bed first. Bouncing onto the top of what appears to be the softest of sleeping pads, I shriek when I find myself floating on the air about a foot above the surface of the pad.
"Spike!"
My lover whips around in alarm, concern radiating from his every fiber. His fear fades to immense relief and a goofy grin when he witnesses me wearing a look of unadulterated joy and excitement. . . something he has not seen on me in over a hundred years.
"Having fun, pet?"
"Oh, gosh, yes!" I call, standing shakily on the firm cushion of air and attempting without much success to walk from one end of the bed to the other. Somehow the whole experience reminds me slightly of playing on a trampoline.
I stumble, and Spike laughs. "Careful, love."
"Like to see you do it!" I pout, partly embarrassed. My eyes widen as I realize what challenge I have just issued my lover. "Oh, crap."
With the grace of an acrobat, he leaps at the bed in one motion, tackling me into the air cushion, which miraculously keeps us from striking the bed proper's surface. I laugh wholeheartedly, and he gazes at me tenderly with amusement etched into his features.
"I love you, Buffy Summers."
"Love you, too, William. . . Henderson." Stifling a giggle, I roll away from him as he mock growls and grabs at me. At a safe distance from him, I swallow my laughter and ask, "What is this thing anyway?"
He props up his head up with his hand and arm balancing on nothing but air. Smiling gently, he says, "I think it's one of those new-fangled fake 'anti-gravity' beds that are all the rage among humans on Earth at the moment."
"Well, it's cool!" I inch closer to him and kiss him lightly. "Can't wait to sleep on it."
"Sleep on it, pet?" Spike raises one eyebrow and smirks.
"Yes, sleep. I want to take a nap before we get started," I insist, pretending not to notice his hinted innuendo.
"But you just slept for three days on the shuttle!" he reminds me, stroking my long hair.
"Well, I have to get my Mars legs, and I'm tired."
I curl up facing him. "So, what are we doing first? Where're Ayledan and her team located?"
"Miros, Nabald's contact here, is supposed to meet with us later to give us information on the slayer's whereabouts. Last Nabald heard, she was in the mines, hunting a couple of G'ticus demons who were trying to unleash a slew of Neyons onto to Mars in hopes of conquering the colonies here and forming a base operation from which to attack Earth and its neighboring space colonies."
"How did G'ticus demons get all the way to Mars?" I wonder incredulously. G'ticus demons are hardly inconspicuous, being seven feet tall and weighing three hundred plus pounds. They are also a light shade of lavender.
"Somebody smuggled them in as part of a collection of stuffed demons for a museum." Spike rolls his eyes. "Bloody idiot."
"I think I'd agree there. And they're hidden in the maze of mines? I'm amazed they got so far without detection."
"Oh, they were detected all right. After waking from space sleep, they barged through main area on Colony 3. . . where we landed. . . and headed straight for the mine transport. Didn't destroy a thing although they did frighten people quite a bit."
"Ah. And why are they conjuring Neyon demons? Don't they realize they can't control them?"
"Apparently, pet, these G'ticus demons have training in neurosurgery."
"What?!" I am floored.
"Yep, same ponce who smuggled them in was also a neurosurgeon. Taught them the trade. He considered them bloody pets."
"I've never heard of that." I pause, moving toward Spike and turning to fit my body against his. "Doesn't mean it couldn't happen." I issue a large yawn. "Naptime. Plan later."
"K, love." Spike remains on his elbow, observing me as I settle against him and close my eyes.
The door beeping startles me out of my precarious position on the edge of sleep. I jump, causing Spike to jerk as well. We give each other that look that says, "What now?" as I swing my legs off the air cushion and land with surety on my feet. Spike is by my side in a second. The house computer doesn't say who is behind the barrier.
Without us uttering a word, the door melts away to reveal a tall, slender young woman with olive-coloring. Her hair cascades to her hips in a shiny charcoal wave, and her hand clutches what can only be wooden stake.
Ayledan.
TBC. . . Okay! Hope you enjoyed the journey to Mars. . . next chapter. . . the slayer! (Still on Mars.) And her crew! Oooo. . . surprises await! Glad you guys are still having fun reading this! The comments are wonderful! :o)