Episode One: Pioneer Days
Written by Blitzgal
Disclaimer: The Buffy universe belongs to Joss Wheon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN. However, the original character in this piece of AU fiction belong to me. Do not reproduce in any way. Check out the Undaunted website at
Part Two
He couldn't remember if he had been dreaming. At first there was darkness, and then suddenly a searing pain forced him awake. Leslie was disoriented for several moments after that, unaware of where he was or what was happening. Then he realized he was still on the ship, within his stasis pod, actually. The quiet sound of machinery purring around him was interrupted by moist grunts of contentment.
A heavy weight had settled over his body. But this was not the source of Leslie's pain. Something was biting him—actually feeding on him. An animal broken free of its cage? Leslie tried to struggle against the creature, but it only held on tighter, actually bucking against him as it fastened its mouth against his neck.
When Leslie opened his eyes, the intruder leaned back and stared down at him. To his shock, it wasn't an animal at all, but a terribly disfigured man. Yellow eyes gleamed in the faint light streaming down from the overhead lamps. When the man smiled, his open lips revealed elongated teeth stained a dusky red.
"That's my blood," Leslie murmured, his voice a husky whisper. How long had he been out?
"Shh," the man crooned, reaching down to stroke his cheek. "It's nearly over now."
After a moment of fumbling he leaned forward once more, this time pressing his arm against Leslie's mouth. When the heavy taste of copper spilled past his lips, Leslie jerked away in surprise. The man pushed his head against the open wound more insistently then, forcing him to drink.
The warmth flooded through his body like music—singing through his veins, joining his blood with perfect harmony. Leslie knew that much time had passed when he was able to open his eyes once more and take in his surroundings with heightened senses. At that first moment of consciousness after his rebirth he was made painfully aware of his former limitations. Leslie rose from his slumber renewed, and fully ready to take on whatever life had to give him.
When he stood, he saw his sire a short distance away, surrounded by three other acolytes. Jealousy flared within him. "Who are they?" he demanded.
The vampire smiled magnanimously. "Your brothers and sister," he responded.
Leslie frowned. He didn't think there'd be others. But his anger was forgotten a moment later when a powerful yearning nearly doubled him over in agony.
"You're hungry," the vampire explained. "That will pass."
"It will?" Leslie asked, amazed that this pain would actually go away on its own.
With a gesture, the vampire beckoned the female behind him. The blonde vampire moved forward a few steps and shoved something onto the floor at Leslie's feet. A small child, no more than four or five, stared up at him curiously. As he returned the gaze, Leslie felt his muscles of his face shift under his skin. The child's pulse quickened at the sight of him, and she seemed trapped beneath the weight of his stare. Leslie smiled.
Val tumbled to the floor, her head striking the smooth metal with a ringing thud. No, that's not my ears ringing, she thought a moment later. It's the distress signal above my pod.
She managed to roll over onto her back. Her limbs were lethargic, barely able to move. It only took a few weeks in stasis to confuse the body. That was why an extended "wake up" period was necessary in order to ease the sleeper into consciousness. She'd obviously been forced to skip that part. Some malfunction must have jolted her awake.
After a few more moments, she'd gained the strength necessary to push herself to her feet. When she stood, the room spun around crazily. Val put her face in her hands and braced herself. For some reason this didn't help. Peeking out from between her fingers, she saw the double lines of pods housing the ship's crew. The floor took another dive out from under her just then. She went flying toward the nearest pod and barely missed smacking her head a second time.
"What the hell is going on?" she croaked, then pressed a hand against her mouth in surprise. Clearing her throat, Val said, "Harrison, what seems to be the disturbance up there?"
There was no response. Frowning, Val stood up and crossed the room to check the ship's status on the nearest console. The com was open, so Harrison should have heard her loud and clear.
"Harrison, report," Val snapped.
"What's going on?" a weak voice called behind her.
Val barely gave the man a glance. She was too absorbed by the information flying across the screen. "We are way off course," she muttered. "What the hell happened?"
The approached the console and stood beside her silently. She glanced at him fleetingly, taking in the dark hair and eyes, as well as the green uniform. They'd been introduced at some point, she knew.
"What was your name?" she asked. "MacArthur?"
He nodded. "Tom."
"Well, Tom, if these readings are correct, we've been heading off in the wrong direction for the past three months," Val explained with a heavy sigh.
"Three months?" he asked. "Weren't we only supposed to be under for two?"
"The machinery has to be off somehow," Val said. "Harrison wouldn't have allowed us to drift for so long…wait a minute," she said.
"Now what?" Tom peered at the screen intently but obviously had no idea how to translate the data flying across it.
"According to this we haven't merely been drifting in the wrong direction," Val said, shocked. "We've been traveling at full speed. That can't be right. I need to get to the control room."
"So do we wake the rest of them up?" Tom asked, gesturing vaguely.
Val shook her head. "We don't want to take that risk. It wasn't healthy for us to come out of stasis so quickly; I'm not going to put the others through it as well."
"I think I better come with you, then," Tom responded. "We don't know what's going on."
"Harrison melted a few processors is what's going on," Val said. "He has several fail safes in the event of mechanical error, but for some reason they haven't seemed to kick in. If we hadn't been forced awake when we did, this whole place could have turned into a big floating coffin."
"Lovely."
Val shook her head. "I'm being pessimistic," she said. "I do that sometimes. I'm sure these readings are just incorrect. We can't be this far off course."
They moved toward the corridor. "And if we are this far off course," Tom asked. "Worst case and all?"
Val frowned. "Well, we're not. So there's no point in speculating."
"Right," Tom sighed. "Look, you'll have to use your pass to get up to the control room. I don't have clearance for that floor."
"What are you, level five?" Val asked, looking him up and down. "Ouch."
"Hey," Tom retorted. "You can always walk through this dead ship on your own."
"Touchy," Val responded. "It's just…well, they usually give low clearance to former felons, and I'm not so sure I should be responsible for taking you with me—"
"We can turn right around and have you access my personnel files," Tom said evenly. "I am not a criminal."
"Okay, okay, just wanted to be sure," Val said.
They reached the elevator at the end of the corridor. Tom waited as she punched in the proper access code and stepped inside. When he didn't move to join her in the car, she frowned.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked.
"I want you to know that I have never been accused of any crime," he said.
Val rolled her eyes. "You're still going off on that?" she asked. "Hurry up, I want to see what's going on."
Before Tom could take a step, a scream echoed through the corridor behind them. He twisted around to see where it was coming from, but the long hallway was empty. "I don't think that was the crew's quarters," he said.
Val stepped back into the corridor. "We better check it out."
"It's probably someone coming out of stasis and not handling it well," he said. "I'll go. Seriously," he added when she looked at him skeptically. "The ship…running full speed in the wrong direction? You need to get up there and handle things."
"Okay, but we're not really that far off course," Val argued. Tom merely pushed her back onto the elevator.
The doors closed and sent her own worried reflection back at her. Hopefully Tom was right—it was only someone else cut out of stasis at the wrong time. She glanced up toward the ceiling of the narrow car and tapped her foot impatiently. It couldn't move fast enough toward the top level of the ship to suit her, not while she was in this state.
Tom shook his head after the closing doors left him effectively alone. "Why did I do that?" he asked himself.
Turning to face the corridor once more, he went in search of the origin of that scream. He passed several doors before finding an open area. Each travel class was grouped together in its own separate wing off the main corridor. The open door led to the first class area, and the passengers who'd paid their full travel expenses themselves. Tom sighed to himself.
"Figures," he muttered.
As he turned to enter the area, a dark figure hurtled out into the hallway, nearly knocking him over. Tom didn't even have the time to recover his senses before a second person ran out as well. This time he wasn't lucky enough to keep his balance. The individual barreled directly into him, sending both of them sprawling across the floor. Tom grunted in pain as he landed flat on his chest. The other person fell directly on top of him. He groaned again when an elbow jabbed into the small of his back.
"You stupid…" the person muttered. The weight flew off almost immediately as the person jumped up.
Rolling over, Tom stared blearily at the person standing above him. He recognized her immediately—she was the young woman who'd freaked out before getting on the ship. Lark had removed her khaki uniform and now wore a black t-shirt and jeans. Tom wondered where she'd scavenged the new clothing so quickly.
"Which way did it go?" she demanded, her eyes scanning the corridor.
Tom managed push himself up onto his feet. "What?" he asked.
Lark grabbed him by the collar and shook him slightly. His first thought was that she was pretty strong for a girl. "Which way did the vampire go?"
Tom frowned. "You mean that guy that ran out of here just before you?"
Sighing in exasperation, Lark snapped, "Yeah. Which way did he go, you brainless twit!"
"Uh," Tom mumbled, "I—"
"Just forget it," Lark said. Shoving him out of the way, she ran down the corridor.
"What—" Tom started. Then he noticed the area she'd just fled. Inside were double rows of closed pods, all occupied by sleeping passengers. But in the center of the chamber he saw two women huddled on the floor. "Just great."
The two girls didn't glance up as he approached. The smaller of the two held her face in her hands and sobbed gracelessly while the other appeared to be examining her neck. Tom recognized the blonde. It was Lyssa Baines.
"Are you…" he began. "Is she injured?"
Lyssa started at the sound of his voice. She relaxed as soon as she glanced down at his uniform and realized he was a crew member. "We were attacked," she explained. "Some…animals, or something. My sister was bitten."
Tom knelt beside them for a closer look. There were two puncture wounds on the girl's neck, but they hardly looked like teeth marks. And the figure running out of the chamber before Lark appeared definitely wasn't an animal. What had Lark called it?
"They don't exist," he snapped, more to himself than the girls.
"What?" Lyssa asked, glancing at him fearfully.
Bit lowered her hands from her face. The tears streaming down her cheeks were almost more than he could bear. "Look," he said. "It's not that bad. There's a first aid kit near the door. Let's just clean the wound and bandage her up."
"But what was that thing?" Lyssa demanded. "What if it comes back? If some half-assed hillbilly let his rabid dog out of its cage, what can you do to make sure she doesn't get sick?"
"It's not an animal!" Bit shouted. "You saw it, Lyssa. It was a person."
Tom stood. "First aid by the door," he repeated. "Lock yourselves in here after I—I'm just going to see if Lark needs any help."
"You're leaving?" Lyssa exclaimed. "You're leaving us here alone?"
"You'll be safer in here," Tom promised. "Just lock the door."
"But he already broke in here once," she cried as he turned to leave. "What if he comes back?"
Tom didn't bother to respond. Lyssa was still shouting hysterically when he closed the door behind him and hurried to follow Lark's path down the corridor. For some reason the girl had known something was wrong with one of the passengers, had even pitched a fit trying to keep him from boarding. And now some guy was breaking into pods, biting people? Lark was right there, too, ready for him. He didn't understand what was going on, but he wasn't about to leave the girl on her own if there was some psychopath on board.
He'd nearly reached the central med lab when he heard the sounds of a struggle. Hurrying inside, Tom saw Lark take a blow to the head. She dropped to the ground, and he thought she'd been knocked unconscious, but then she twirled around to punch a second man in the stomach. Tom frowned, wondering just what kind of situation he'd walked into.
Lark turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly. He opened his mouth to ask if she needed help but she cut him off with a shout.
"Hey! Behind you!"
It was at that moment that he felt the prickly sensation at the back of his neck and realized that someone was standing behind him. He jerked around to see a deformed man leering at him, his teeth bared in an animal snarl. Tom pressed his arm against the man to shove him away, but was grabbed by the shoulders an instant later. The powerful grip held him immobilized. Smiling, the man physically lifted him from his feet and tossed him aside. Tom had the unsettling sensation of flight before he struck the wall. The world fell away from him before he even landed.
Lark paused in mid-stride when she saw another person entering the lab from the corridor. The vampire took advantage of her hesitation and landed a sharp jab on the side of her head. Luckily he wasn't quite as strong as the second one. Lark managed to keep her balance as she was forced several steps backwards. She instinctively ducked as she heard the quiet approach of the second vampire and just barely missed another punch to the head. Twisting on the smooth tiled floor, Lark shoved her fist into his gut. Her attacker reeled back in pain, and she had the opportunity to put some distance between herself and them.
Glancing toward the door, Lark saw one of the crew members standing just inside the doorway. Behind him, a blond vampire crept closer. He noticed her attention and grinned as he pointed at the man in front of him. For more effect, he even bared his fangs in mock aggression. Lark narrowed her eyes. Great, she thought, another hammy vampire.
A soft grunt signaled the approach of one of the first two attackers. Lark didn't bother turning around—merely raised her arm and smashed her elbow into his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving her another instant of peace.
"Hey!" she called toward the clueless guy standing in the doorway. "Behind you!"
The man turned his head to look over his shoulder just as the blond vampire leaned in to feed. He threw his arm against his attacker to ward him off, twisting his body around as he did to set them both off balance. But instead of falling, the vampire merely shoved the man away from him. The crewman hurtled toward wall and bounced off the metallic surface with a sickening thud.
Lark stiffened when she sensed that the vampires behind her were preparing to renew their attack. But the blond vampire shook his head and gestured for them to fall back.
"You took out Riley," he said in admiration. "He was my best fighter."
One of the vampires behind her snorted in irritation. Lark merely raised one brow sardonically. "He was young," she countered. "You're all young. Where's your leader?"
The vampire frowned. "What makes you think I have a leader?" he asked. He attempted to look menacing but didn't quite pull it off, even in full vamp face. Lark guessed he'd only been turned about a week before.
"I saw him," she responded evenly. "In the skyport. He's the one who made all of you."
"Leslie…" one of the minions spoke up behind her.
The blonde vampire scowled. "Do not call me that," he snarled, slashing his hand through the air. "It's Harkon." He glanced at Lark. "Harkon," he repeated.
"Leslie suits you better," she told him.
"All right," he announced, addressing his companions. "I'm done. Go ahead. I'd hoped you'd be more fun."
Lark shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint," she muttered to herself before turning to face the first two vampires.
The taller man wasn't an obvious choice for immortality. His leathery skin revealed his age and his affinity for sunlight. Lark wondered how long it would take him to realize what he was giving up. He had the added strength and speed of a vampire, but wasn't old enough to have learned how to use it. His movements were clumsy and too aggressive for him to control.
His first approach was to sweep his long arm in a broad arc. Lark easily shifted out of his way. As his forward momentum moved him past her, she twisted her upper body and slammed her fists against his back. When she turned to follow his progress and continue the assault, the second vampire grabbed her by the nape of her neck and threw her into the glass cabinets lining the nearby wall.
Stunned, she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Sharp bits of broken glass dug into her arms and legs where they pressed against the floor. Lark opened her eyes and spotted a large piece of glass resting near her right hand. Ignoring the pain, she clutched it in her fist and shoved her body up off the floor as the vampire leaned over her. She whipped around to face the creature as she rose. The shard of glass caught him at the neck, cutting deeply.
The injury would have been fatal to a mortal, but it merely stopped the vampire in his tracks for the moment. Clutching his neck, he fell to the floor in agony. Lark curled her lip in disgust. Without a stake, she'd have to take more severe precautions.
"Heads it is," she muttered, dropping to her knees beside him.
Grasping the shard of glass in both hands, she pressed it lengthwise against his neck where it was exposed above his hands and shoved downward with a decisive stroke. The glass was thick, but it was also sharp. It was just strong enough to do the job. As the vamp dissolved into dust, the glass struck the floor and sliced deeply into the palms of her hands. Lark bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. She knew the second vampire wasn't far away.
When she turned to seek out her quarry, she caught a blur of movement in her peripheral vision. She immediately knew that it moved too quickly to be human. Lifting the glass with one hand, Lark threw it at the creature before it had a chance to reach her side. She didn't bother to see if the weapon met its mark, for the vampire instantly exploded into a cloud of dust. On a ship comprised almost completely of metal, she'd have to remember how useful broken glass could be.
Rising to her feet, she faced Harkon, her lips twisted in a wry smile. He stared at her in amazement. "You're not human," he said. He looked as though he might take a step forward, than thought better of it. Lark shook her head when he glanced down at the unconscious man.
"I wouldn't try it," she advised him. Her mouth dropped open in shock when he suddenly turned to run.
Lark immediately surged forward to give chase. She'd nearly passed the crew member when she sighed and halted her pursuit. Dropping to one knee, she reached out to touch his face, leaving a smear of blood behind.
"I know you," she realized. She frowned when he continued to lie motionless on the floor. "Wake up," she snapped, slapping him across the face.
"Five more minutes," he muttered as he sat upright. Blinking, he gazed around himself in confusion. "What happened?"
Lark frowned. "The ship has been overtaken by vampires," she explained.
He smiled and laughed. "Good one…" he started, then paused when her expression didn't change. "Those things aren't human."
She shook her head. "I've killed three, but I spotted at least two others outside of 'B' class," she said. "And then Blondie over here decided to crash. He's not the one I saw at the skyport, though. That one was old. All the rest were human when they boarded the ship."
Tom reached up to wipe his face and calmly stared at the red substance staining his fingertips. "So they've been snacking on us for the past three months," he said. "I just want to comment that officially, I still don't believe in vampires."
"Point taken," Lark agreed. "Three months? We should've reached Vic-12 by now."
"That's the thing," Tom said. "Valerie Jackson seems to think the ship's been taken off course somehow."
"Valerie Jackson?" Lark asked.
"She's the consultant from Unitech," he explained. "She worked in Dr. Harrison's group."
When she continued to stare at him blankly, he sighed and said, "The guy who developed the propulsion system on this ship, programmed the operating computer...were you living in a cardboard box somewhere?"
Lark frowned at him and stood up. "Just about," she murmured dismissively.
As she glanced about the room she spotted a glass case set a few feet from the doors. A metal axe gleamed innocuously from within its enclosure. Snorting, Lark moved closer and smashed the glass with her elbow. She lifted the heavy axe and swung it around a few times before returning her gaze to Tom.
"This would have helped," she said.
He was busy staring at her hands. "You're bleeding," he realized.
She moved back a few steps when he rose to his feet. "It's fine," she said. "I've got to start tracking those other vamps."
"It looks serious," he said. "They need to be bandaged."
Rolling her eyes, she flexed her free hand and managed not to cringe at the fresh streak of pain racing up her forearm. "I'll heal."
Tom stood solid. "We're in a med lab," he reminded her. "Humor me."
"You know, you're a real pain in the ass," she complained.
Stomping toward him, she reached for the sleeve of his uniform. The axe remained lowered at her side as she used her left hand to grasp the material and give it a firm yank. It ripped away cleanly, baring his right arm. The move shocked him into silence. He watched in amazement as she dropped the weapon on a nearby counter and began tearing the fabric into long strips. Wrapping one around each hand, she leaned forward to use her teeth to assist in tying the knots.
Raising her brows, Lark gave him a defiant glance before retrieving her axe and moving toward the corridor. Tom remained as he was for several moments. Then he rushed after her, jogging to catch up. They walked side by side in silence for some time.
"You are a very strange individual," Tom finally commented. Lark had to grin. "So how do you know about these things, anyway?"
She shrugged. "I just know," she said. "One day, I saw this guy standing under a street light on 58th. New York," she added. "Most people probably would've thought he was a pusher. But I knew what he was. He was the first vampire I ever saw. Or noticed…I'm not sure which," she admitted. "It was like something just switched on in me, and I was fired up—ready to go."
"And so you just automatically had this urge to start beating people up?"
Lark shook her head. "Not people," she said. "Demons. Monsters. Things that go bump in the night."
"Fairy tales," Tom muttered.
"Whoever said fairy tales weren't true?" she countered. "Look, I don't think they stayed on this level. There are three separate passenger levels, right?"
He nodded. "This is the lowest. There are two more above us."
"Then they went up. Let's hit the stairs."
They were just passing another berth of passengers when the ship took a sickening plunge downward. It righted itself in a matter of seconds, but the strange movement made the two of them glance at each other in confusion. Moments later, the hallway tilted crazily as the ship suddenly banked left. Lark was thrown against Tom, who was slammed into a wall once again. She dropped the axe and allowed it to go spinning down the corridor rather than accidentally injure her companion.
"What's going on now?" she asked in concern.
"Jackson must have taken over the controls," Tom responded. "She was heading up there before I found you."
"And she decided to take a joy ride?" Lark wondered. She pushed away from him and limped partway across the corridor. The floor was still dramatically slanted, but still traversable.
"She said we were heading in the wrong direction," he explained. "Maybe she turned us around."
"Something's not right," Lark disagreed.
To her surprise, Tom burst out laughing. "You think?" he mocked.
"Hey," Lark chastised. "Less taunt, more thought, okay? You've got to have a better idea of what's going on than I do."
"Why?" Tom demanded. "I'm a glorified janitor, for crying out loud. There may as well be a garbage can on this badge--" he stopped and glanced down at his right arm. "Well, you ripped that sleeve off, but you get the picture."
A low, groaning sound echoed up from the bowels of the ship and was followed by a deep shudder. "We need to find a stable place to squat this out," Lark decided.
"You really have a way with words," Tom said.
Wordlessly, she grabbed his arm and spun him toward the nearest doorway. She felt a strange new weight to her legs as she attempted to walk into 'C' cell. It was almost as if the ship had gained a great deal of speed, but taken a downward spiral.
"I think we're losing altitude," she commented.
Tom shook his head. "We're in space," he said. "The only way we could be losing altitude is if we're in a planet's atmosphere, and—"
She looked at him in alarm when he cut himself short. "Three months in the wrong direction," he whispered to himself, his eyes widening.
Lark shoved him toward an empty stasis pod. "Strap yourself in there," she ordered.
Tom glanced around himself. "It's the only empty one," he said. "You take it."
"Don't get all masculine on me now," she muttered. She pushed him more insistently. "Get in."
When he continued to resist, she sighed and promised, "I'll find another pod."
The sensation of falling became more overbearing after Tom was safely tucked away and she stood alone in the room. All around her other passengers slept peacefully, completely oblivious to the impending danger. It hadn't been difficult for her to figure out what Tom had guessed. They were in for a crash landing. And his comment about traveling in the wrong direction didn't escape her attention, either. If three months really had passed, they weren't heading down toward Vic-12.
Lark searched for a nice spot to brace herself, then nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. They were done. There wasn't much use for her to even try to protect her vital organs from puncture or collapse…
"I'm such an optimist," she told herself.
The faint shuddering she'd felt earlier grew even stronger, and soon it was difficult for her to stand upright. The ship canted forward sharply, and Lark was thrown across the expanse of the room. At that point there was no chance for her to find a safe place. She was forced to hang on to whatever was available as the ship tossed her around. At one point she clung to the protective plating of a stasis pod and stared helplessly at the slumbering woman inside. In that moment she desperately wished she could be so unaware of what was happening around her. Then she was wrenched away after being struck by a large chunk of debris ripped away from the wall. She thought she felt the moment of impact, but her head slammed against the sharp edge of a broken pod, and she finally lost that obnoxious self-awareness.