Charlaine Harris owns all these hot and sexy vampires and yes, I hate her for it. Just kidding!
A/N Sometiimes,when you're on a roll, you just gotta keep going. When I dream about a fanfic I'm writing, that's when I know I'm on a roll and to not stop, because it doesn't happen very often.
Eric, being the pushy Viking he is, found his way into the outline for this story. We will not be seeing his pov though. This is Bill's story to tell.
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"Testing…testing…Jason..is this thing working?" The gray haired man at the head of the conference table tapped the smooth round device sitting in the middle and looked back at the young man sitting behind him with ear buds in place, typing on the computer. There was a reassuring nod. "Alright, let's get started." He looked around the dimly lit conference room. "Has everyone been introduced yet?" Once everyone nodded in the affirmative, he poured himself a glass of water from the sweating pitcher in front of him and sat back in his seat.
"Very good. As you all know, we're here to evaluate one of the six remaining vampire candidates for the astronaut corp. Just so there is no confusion, this meeting is classified and may not be discussed outside this room. Any information that is needed for NASA files or public release will be handled through my office or the Public Relations office at NASA. Now, we have two members of the behavioral division of the FBI here from Quantico. Due to the potential pitfalls of this program, we requested and were granted assistance from the FBI with regards to checking the backgrounds of the respective candidates. It was felt that the background checks would be too extensive and that our security division at NASA might lack the necessary …ah..expertise. Please, Dana could you go over what has been found thus far?"
Dana stood up in front of the large screen for her presentation. She was a small, almost petite woman with radiant red hair that brushed her shoulders. She spoke in a confident and straight forward manner. "Good day everyone. I'm going to do a run down of the bullet points for this candidate as well as point out any potential issues that may require further study. Please feel free to ask me questions at any time or request clarification if needed. Alright, let's go…"
She gestured casually towards the large screen as photos and documents started flickering across it. "Here, we have a scanned document displaying the birth record of vampire candidate William Thomas Compton, born April 9th, 1840. While he possesses a birth certificate, social security card, and passport, they are dated incorrectly and he admits were obtained fraudulently while the vampires were still in hiding. He has presented evidence of his true age and identity: a baptismal certificate, a family bible verifying his date of birth, and the date of death that his living family entered . They have been confirmed by a document expert to be from the correct time period and the other entries have been validated. Several 19th century tin type photographs have also been examined by the labs here at Quantico and verified as being photographs of this candidate. As the files in front of you show, he fought in the American Civil War on the Confederate side in the Louisiana infantry. He has been interviewed about his military service, regarding battles, names of commanders, fellow soldiers, etc. I don't think I have to inform you all that here in Virginia, there is no shortage of Civil War experts (there was some light chuckling at the table over this comment), so we've been able to confirm that everything he has told us regarding his service is accurate and true to the best of our knowledge. One of our agents in the New Orlean's field office also checked archives in parishes all over Louisiana and discovered photos of the candidate while he was serving. They have also photographed all the tombstones of his human family, most of whom are buried near his home and compared this information against what he's given us"
"I'm seeing here he had a family?" the gray haired man asked, peering down his bifocals at the file in front of him.
"Yes, his mother, his sister and his wife were still living and there were 2 young children when he was turned." She flipped a page in the file in front of her."There was a 3rd child….a boy..who died when he was barely a year old, after the war. One of the tombstones we discovered belonged to the baby, named Lee." Everyone sat silently for a moment, contemplating this information.
Then a low whistle emanated from the dark room. "Good investigative work," someone commented.
She smiled for the first time since beginning her presentation. "Thank you, the work being done on this case has certainly been challenging due to the extended time frames and the historical records, not to mention primitive filing systems we've been having to deal with…" Some more chuckles, and the sound of ice clattering as a couple people poured themselves water as they listened. "So, as far as our investigative team is concerned, the vampire candidate WAS the human William Thomas Compton, so his identity is considered valid and the personal history from his human life is valid as well."
"Have the fraudulent documents been corrected?" a voice asked.
"Yes, NASA's legal department is working with the Social Security Administration, the state department, Homeland Security, and various government offices regarding correcting his personal records. Since, he wasn't the only vampire candidate who possessed false records, any penalties or charges are being waived. The reason given will be that he voluntarily gave the information and that the vampires, prior to their Great Reveal, would have had no choice but to possess false documents."
"Will the press make an issue out of this…maybe comparing it to illegal immigrants trying to become citizens?" another voice asked.
Another woman's voice spoke from the darkness, "No, since there is no question that Mr. Compton was an American citizen all along, this should not present any problems." Everyone sat back, satisfied with that answer.
Dana picked up a glass of water and took a good swallow before continuing. "Alright, now as to the question of his status since the Great Reveal . He possesses a valid Louisiana state driver's license." A license with the vampire's picture on it lit up the large screen. Even from a driver's license, it was apparent he was handsome, with a serious, narrow face and dark eyes.
"I wish my driver's license photo was that good," someone quipped, which generated some laughter in the room.
Dana continued," He has a clean driving record, no points, no tickets…not even parking tickets. He owns a black Cadillac sedan that's a couple years old and the house he lives in. He claimed the house after the previous owner, a Jesse Compton…died ..leaving no heirs."
"Any potential foul play there?" a suspicious voice asked.
She shook her head. "No, the coroner's report showed Jesse Compton was very old, he had numerous health problems and died as a result of them. It appears he was the last direct descendent of our candidate. Mr. Compton was once the owner of this house, his human father built it. As such, he had legal claim to the property and the deed was filed in his name after he went through the proper court procedures." She pressed a button on the laptop in front of her and a picture of a two story elegant 19th house appeared with a modern looking carport next to it.
"What about other properties?" someone asked.
"We're still checking into that. He claims this is the only property he owns for living in. As to business properties, he owns a small strip mall on the outskirts of Bon Temps." Another picture popped up showing a modest strip mall that could be anywhere in the USA. She looked down at her notes," It has a eat in restaurant called Lalaurie's, a hair salon called Clip N Curl, and a woman's clothing store called Tara's Togs. His business records have been checked by the IRS. He has an accountant who has filed the taxes correctly since he purchased the strip mall, so there are no problems there.
"Has anyone talked to his tenants to see how they feel about him?" a voice asked.
"Yes, our field agents spoke with the owners of each business. All of them stated he was a polite, business like landlord and none of them reported any kind of conflict with him.
"What did local law enforcement have to say? In a town this small…." The voice trailed off.
"We interviewed the Bon Temps Sheriff and his deputies. While the sheriff was blunt about how he felt regarding vampires in general….he also admitted that our candidate had been a model citizen and he had received no complaints regarding him. The only problems he's had is dealing with the various anti-vampire groups who've come around stirring up trouble. "
" An interesting aside, one of the officers there is a descendent of our candidate, through his daughter….an Andrew Bellefleur. When he was asked by the field agent how he felt regarding the character of our candidate, he said and I quote," if you had seen how careful and tenderly he held my baby daughter, you wouldn't ask such a fool question" unquote. He became a bit belligerent with the field agent. Actually, this was something we ran into with a number of people there. While a fair number of them don't like vampires in general, many of them seemed to feel quite protective of our candidate and viewed us with suspicion. He even has a couple nicknames, Vampire Bill and VB were the most common."
"I'm from the South and that's major acceptance…having a nickname," a voice drawled from the darkness, drawing amused snickers from everyone in the room.
"The overall impression that the field agents came away with was someone who is reserved but friendly, and lives quietly. He interacts regularly with locals, hanging out at a local bar called Merlottes, votes in the local elections…he's a registered Democrat by the way…and seems to have integrated himself into the community quite well. He's dated a couple local women for extended periods of time."
"Fangbangers?" someone asked.
"Not exactly, one is a successful real estate agent who specializes in vampire properties. She relocated to Arkansas and was interviewed by the Little Rock field office agents. She had nothing negative to say about our candidate and said their parting was amicable. The other is a waitress at the bar I mentioned, Merlottes, apparently they were together for the good part of a year. When interviewed she said pretty much the same thing and that she considered the candidate to be a good friend and neighbor. "
"So far so good," the gray haired man said. "He sounds pretty boring, that's what we want. What else have you discovered regarding his income or any occupations?"
"Well, we have uncovered something rather interesting that was not volunteered by the candidate. Most of you are familiar with the Vampire Database?" There were nods from around the table. When the database had become available, it had been snatched up by every government agency that existed, and some that officially didn't. "One of our vampire interview subjects let slip that our candidate was the one who designed and created it." Gasps erupted from around the table.
"I've seen the database," a voice offered. "It's massive. It would take decades and decades to compile."
"Apparently it did," Dana confirmed." Mr. Compton did the entire database on his own, after learning about computers, and has been selling it at various vampire venues as well as online ever since. Our friends at the IRS have verified his income reporting on this project. Apparently, he doesn't receive most of the money, only a portion from some other vampires he's in business with. Whether they sponsored the project or something we're not sure. One is a prominent businessman, a Felipe de Castro, he owns a publishing house, entertainment company, and casino in Las Vegas. The other is a Shreveport businessman named Eric Northman, who also happens to be one of the references given by our candidate."
"This is important, it demonstrates incredible initiative, creativity, adaption to new technology, and an ability to operate independently, which is relevant to our search here," the gray haired man pointed out. There were murmurs of agreement from around the table, several people were scribbling notes in their file copies. "Please make sure he's questioned on this. We need to be sure there isn't something unsavory attached to this database," he added, glancing over his bifocals at the woman sitting next to him. She nodded and made a note in her file. "Were your agents able to confirm his claim that the vampire who made him is finally deceased?"
"Yes,"Dana replied."This fact is listed in the database actually. Her name was Lorena Ball and her status was listed as killed by person or persons unknown. We've verified through three other sources that she is in fact, dead. We are comfortable with this intelligence and feel it is accurate."
"Very good," the gray haired man nodded, and made another note. "From what I've been hearing, it appears this is probably our leading candidate."
"There's still the slavery question," a woman's voice interjected."Were your agents able to confirm his claim that he never owned any slaves?"
"While the agents were combing the archives all over Louisiana, they were looking at slave ownership records specifically. We can find no records displaying that your candidate ever owned slaves. "
"What about any violent history? Murders etc?" the woman asked.
"We can find no credible charges or claims regarding your candidate involving murder charges or violence against humans. However…." And here she paused, took another drink and seemed to be debating how to express herself. "However, it is the bureau's view , that given the very long time frame and the situation the vampires would have been In back then, we find it highly unlikely that a vampire would have NOT killed at some point during their life. It would have been impossible. We have verified that vampires who have humans they feed on regularly, often still drink synthetic blood throughout the night as well. When you combine a naturally predatory nature…well..our behavioral department feels that any vampire of a certain age has to have killed humans. As to how that should be dealt with…that's up to you."
The gray haired man nodded,"We've come to the same conclusion as well and there is discussion on how it's to be handled. But I guess the real issue here is can they avoid killing now? Are they like most predators who won't make the effort to hunt if food is being handed to them, or are they like serial killers who kill compulsively?" Everyone in the room got very quiet. "Dana?"
"There simply hasn't been enough time for us to study the matter," she replied. "On the surface, I'd say they are closer to predators, but to put each vampire into a slot and say they're all the same would be over simplifying the matter. One thing, we have found out is how similar they are to us in that each of them is an individual. They are as different from each other as we humans are. My recommendation? Evaluate each candidate individually and see how their viewpoints and behaviors coincide with the mission objectives. That's really all I can say." And with that, she turned off her laptop and sat down, pouring her glass of water completely full.
"Alright," said the gray haired man. He looked down the table at an older bearded gentleman sporting similar bifocals. "What was the result of some of your tests Doctor?"
The older man cleared his throat and glanced at his notes before speaking."All the vampires did surprisingly well at the bases in Antarctica. Each was sent individually, since the vampire who is selected for this mission will be alone amongst humans, this was considered an important part of the test. They were down there during the South Pole winter when it's continually dark. It was felt this replicated conditions they would experience in space the best. One surprise is that even though they could stay awake almost the entire time if they wanted to…most of them chose to still sleep at least 4-5 hours per 24 hours cycle..usually during what would be considered "midday". And they didn't sleep like they normally do. Instead, they slept more like humans do and they could be awakened when needed. Their emotional reactions to the conditions varied drastically however, depending on the individual.
"What about this candidate doctor?"
"He did very well, as it turns out.
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Bill straightened the fake flower leis piled around his neck and took another sip of his synthetic blood. The chanting around him grew as loud as the Hawaiian shirts everyone, including him, were wearing. Peter had placed one foot up on a chair, held a lighter as close to his backside as possible, and gritted his teeth. His bearded face frowned with concentration. The drunken chanting stopped for a moment and everyone focused avidly on the geologist's butt. A loud fart and a bright burst of flame jetted out into the room. Cheers rang up and more shots were tipped back as a couple other scientists high fived.
Everyone looked at Bill. Once he had explained to his disappointed coworkers that vampires can't fart, he had become the default judge for this little competition.
"Well?" Peter asked, spreading his hands wide, his expression expectant.
"I am sorry Peter. I think Jeff's was bigger," Bill announced apologetically. Peter deflated, utterly disappointed with this judgement and more cheers and a few boos rang out amongst the little crowd of drunken doctorates.
When this position at the bottom of the world had been explained to him, he had been warned about boredom, tedious tasks, disorientation regarding time, irritation with co-workers who could not be avoided in such tight quarters and the dangers of letting all the above get to him. The Concordia station in Antarctica only kept a couple dozen scientists on staff during the constantly dark winter months. Once the final supply plane left, they were on their own for months with no possibility of getting out or anyone getting to them in an emergency. With temperatures ranging from minus 20 degrees on a balmy day to minus 70 degrees on a cold one, leaving the base became impossible even for a vampire. His flesh would freeze just like a human's, even if he didn't die from it.
He knew there had to be at least one or two moles on the station watching him for any signs of instability. But unlike humans, being in constant darkness was normal for him and being in enclosed quarters didn't affect him quite as strongly. Once you get used to sleeping in a coffin, claustrophobia eases away on its own. On days when the temperature was borderline and even the humans could creep outside for a little bit, he'd bundle up like everyone else and go outside to stretch his legs. They were fascinated watching him run back and forth, taking bets on how fast he was going and someone would clock him as he ran to various beacons and equipment sheds checking them for damage.
Any form of entertainment became important, which is how he'd ended up wearing a Hawaiian shirt, fake flowers and judging a fart lighting contest. It was remarkable that these were the same individuals who would work seven days a week, sometimes for extended hours until their projects were done. These scientists took their work very seriously.
And they took their drinking even more seriously.
Eric had warned him that some of his co workers would probably be drunk almost all winter. Bill hadn't believed him, but now he did. When he had asked Eric "how do you know?" Eric had replied, "What did you think we Vikings used to do all winter? We drank, we screwed, told stories, carved, and played with our kids." Bill restrained himself from asking if they did all these things at the same time. It would explain a lot. During the same conversation, Bill had wondered aloud about going without fresh blood and sex for several months. Eric had told him not to worry. Within a month or so, he'd have willing partners, no matter their proclivities in their regular lives.
His sheriff had been right about that too. After a couple drunken parties, Bill had received offers. At first, he'd been reluctant to accept offers to drink from his drunken co workers, wondering if this was some kind of test. But after a couple more weeks, he couldn't say no anymore. The temptation was too great and the vampire inside him was screaming for fresh blood. If he was kicked out of the running for doing this, then so be it.
The young man was a biologist working on his doctorate, studying the traces of life that managed to exist in extreme environments like the South Pole. He told Bill he was merely curious. He added that he'd never done anything like this before. Bill nodded, having heard this sort of thing before and unable to take his eyes off the vein throbbing in the young man's neck. Holding back had been very difficult, but he managed. The fatigue that had been weighing on his limbs disappeared and he felt like himself again. He gently held the young man's body close to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat, excited panting, and the warm erection pressed into him. The third time the young man came to his cramped little quarters, he let Bill do more than just drink blood.
By the end of his little Antarctica tour, he had arrangements with four people on the station( one woman, three men). His schedule was regular, he completed 9 out of 10 of the specific projects he'd been given, and he hadn't lost his mind or hurt anyone. When he was debriefed regarding his stay, he freely admitted feeding on willing co workers, but refused to give out their names. One of the rules of Concordia was What Happens in Antarctica, Stays in Antarctica. He was passed to the next level.
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Bill finished listening to his messages. There was nothing earth shattering amongst them. There were a couple different things he knew he wanted to do for his birthday. He would go outside the habitats and visit the graves of some of the original settlers. It had been a while and he felt it should be done. Displaying respect for the honored dead had stuck with him from his human life. And some of them had been his friends.
But first, he would go have a little fun. He rarely got to spend any time in the horticulture dome unless he was there to fix equipment. He missed plants, taking care of them, fussing over them…the human farmer he had once been eons ago still raised his weary head once in a while and quietly requested a little time with nature. And the dome possessed the only nature on this planet….for now.
If the humans had their way, that wouldn't last much longer.
But he wasn't going to think about projects or goals or any other nonsense today. He would just relax and do what he wanted to do. He wore a loose fiber shirt and pants that had come in on the last supply ship. Slipping his shoes on his feet, and his Com pad in his pocket, he was ready to go. He locked the door behind him from habit and made his way down the corridor. Now that they had sensors that could detect any dangerous radiation or solar flares etc with great accuracy, living quarters could be placed along the outside ring of the station. This allowed for windows and of course a view for the tourists, who after paying exorbitant amounts of money, expected them. Bill's quarters were located with other operational personnel, but his room was larger due to his seniority and status on the station.
The station was made up of numerous domes, tubes, and more domes of various sizes. Even with current technology, it made more sense to build with dome structures. Their basic framework could be sent from Earth folded up, then blown up like a tent. At that point, they would take a chemical ( that was shipped with the tent), mix it with Mars dirt, then pile it up around the fabric by hand. The layering had to be done by "feel" and robots couldn't do it. It was old fashioned building construction, but it worked. Once the dirt solidified, it looked like stucco, but was a hundred times stronger and blended into the Mars landscape so well they were actually difficult to spot from a distance. So far, the domes had also shown excellent resilience to the massive dust storms that still plagued Mars.
He walked through automatic airlocks into the public part of the station. This section of the station was over two stories high, with the center section opened up, with various businesses, shops lined up along the sides on the two stories. The second story had a walkway that ran all the way around with open handrails, like fencing. It resembled an old fashioned shopping mall. The center section had sky lights that were now slowly closing since they sensed the sunlight dying outside. The idea was to have an area on the station that felt wide open, so the humans wouldn't feel so claustrophobic all the time. It also allowed for large gatherings like musical entertainment, theatre, speeches and the like. With over 200 people on the station at any point, it was useful having a large open space. It was called The Mezzanine.
Several of the tubes ran off of this section like spokes on a wheel. The tube that ran to the administrative offices was to his left. He hustled by it, to avoid being stopped by an underling with a question. The tube he was aiming for was next to the arrival and departure area for the ship that had set down this day. Even in his quarters he had been able to hear it. The humans had to come a couple hundred meters from the ship to what was called the reception area, but was more like a quarantine. Even though each person had endured a complete physical and been tested for disease, they would be checked again before being allowed past that air lock.
He could see them eagerly looking through the glass towards the Mezzanine. Shop owners poked their heads out from their establishments hopefully. They wanted to grab the tourists when they walked through the door, with cabin fever and their newly exchanged Mars currency burning a hole in their pocket. They would have been shut up in the ship for over 2 weeks. Even though this was nothing compared to the six months Bill had had to endure, it pushed the limits of a typical human's boredom threshold. Flight attendants on the ship would have tried to keep everyone entertained during the voyage, but once the ship landed, the novelty was gone and the passengers were ready to get the hell out and step on to Mars.
He hesitated. A human he'd had a regular arrangement with was leaving on the ship when it took off in 12 hours. Since he wouldn't be feeding on him and he didn't know what the tourists would be like, maybe he should have another Syn. Backtracking , he headed to one of the bars on the upper story (there were 5 bars on the station, 4 legitimate and 1 the station manager and Bill pretended they didn't know about).
The bar was called O'Toole's even though the owner wasn't of Irish descent and his name was Harold Smith. It had no window since some service vents ran behind its back wall. It wasn't very large, but it did have one interesting feature. The bar was set into the middle of the establishment with the patrons seated around it, and it had a real wood veneer with wood molding on its top. Bill couldn't imagine how expensive it must have been, but it had paid off for the owner. The rest of the establishment's surfaces were treated to look like wood, but having real wood on the bar created a warmth that couldn't be done any other way. The patrons would sit for hours at the bar, nursing their drinks and caressing the surface fondly. On the walls were the usual large animated panels with earth news and the local Mars news as well. Every once in a while, Bill would forget and call them televisions, causing much hilarity amongst his co workers.
He slid onto his favorite stool and nodded at the owner who was working. Since Bill frequented his bar regularly, the owner kept a small stash of Tru-Blood Classic stocked in his cooling units. Not the powdered mix that needed water added to it like Bill had in his quarters, but the bottled on earth real stuff. It was expensive and Bill couldn't afford to drink it all the time, especially when he could drink real blood whenever he wanted. But feeding in front of people, while it was no longer illegal, was seen as crass and rude. So, when he wanted to have a drink and socialize, he'd head over to O'Toole's.
"Be with you in a minute Bill," Harold said. Bill gestured that it was fine, watching the bartender prepping some drinks that were clearly meant for the tourists, who were about to explode from the quarantine section. It was called The Red Line, and consisted of 6 shots of God knows what red liquor lined up on a white plate, with a round lollypop that looked like Mars sitting at the end. Bill thought it looked absurd, but the younger humans seemed to like it. They would down a shot, then suck the candy, then down a shot, then suck the candy. Apparently, the flavor of the liquor accented the lollypop and vice versa. Harold placed his old fashioned sandwich board near the opening of the bar, and wrote "Can you do the Red Line? Come try Mars Signature drink! Ladies specials!"
Bill had to chuckle. "Harold, does that sign really work? I didn't know humans even noticed old signs like that anymore."
Harold laughed as he reached into the cooler for Bill's drink."Damn right it works! Everyone else uses fancier gimmicks and holograms, but the novelty of that stupid sign gets them every time." He poured a warmed portion of the synthetic blood into Bill's glass (usually used for scotch, and clear so he could see the color), and placed the bottle on a warming pad so the rest of the blood wouldn't cool while Bill was sipping from his glass. It was a courtesy Bill appreciated.
"Thank you Harold," Bill said. "I'm surprised they don't just trip over it."
"Don't you dare jinx me!" Harold laughed, wagging a finger at Bill and moving on to one of his other customers.
Bill sat comfortably, enjoying his drink and watching people going to and fro. When he heard some hubbub coming from the quarantine, he knew it was time to go. The tourists would be piling in and some of them were bound to know who he was and would want their image taken with him. Like clockwork, four young women bounded into the bar wanting to try "Mar's Signature Drink". Harold gave Bill a smug glance before tending to them, helping them count out the Mars coins, which were stamped out of lightweight recycled metals, with computer chips imbedded in them.
He slid past the young women. One of them observed him out of the corner of her eye, giving him a wink. He was confident he'd be getting to see a lot more of her before she left. But right now, they were too high strung with cabin fever and he'd rather wait until they had done some touristy things and settled down a bit.
Entering his security code and flashing his Com pad on the tube that led to the horticulture dome, he reflected on this. As he'd gotten older, he just had less patience with young adult hijinks. He hoped it wasn't a sign. When he got to the end of the tube, he held his hand against the sensor. It recognized his hands structure and fingerprints. The door opened.
The humidity level in this section of the station was much higher due to the plants and the moisture they needed. Partially processed waste water was also cycled through this section, both watering the plants and cleaning the water further. He physically inhaled the air as he walked in, it was so different. The smells of the various plants like herbs, some fruits, and various vegetables..not to mention the stock plant that was grown specifically for the station.
It was a genetically designed plant that looked like..well.. a weed and it grew like one. It didn't mind sharing pots with other plants, or not being fed very well, and the dim Mar's sun was just dandy. Once it was grown, it was ground up, infused with various vitamins and minerals. It didn't pretend to be anything but what it was, processed food. So it was sold in various colors, sold like crunchy crackers, and chewy nibs. It could be mixed with milk (there were goats on the station and condensed milk came in on every ship), and served hot like porridge or cold like cereal. It kept people alive.
Bill privately called it Syn-food for humans.
The security guard at the entrance nodded at Bill since Bill had told him in advance that he was coming.
Now that the heavy fabric blinds were slowly drawing across the large clear windows since Mars twilight had begun, the artificial lights were kicking on. To avoid wasting energy, they were only used to enhance the natural sunlight that came into the dome from outside. Some plants needed more light than others, and some plants needed more earthlike light spectrums which the artificial lights provided.
Most of the workers were leaving for the day, so it was quiet and Bill would have most of the dome to himself which was perfect. He headed for the tomatoes.
Fragile botanical fruits, they hung upside down alongside vertical strands of cording, in their hydroponic slurry of nutrients, otherwise known as waste and manure. They needed constant tending since the time, energy, and water needed to grow them could not afford to be wasted. Bruised, fallen fruit was considered a failure, so fruit that was getting heavy for their branches had little netted bags slung under them and attached to a stronger branch above. Bill had snagged a spool of synthetic thread with a handful of little bags and busied himself tying up heavier fruit he spotted. Rather than using a tool, he just used his fangs to cut the thread instead. This was a constant unending task for the workers in this section. They would appreciate the assistance.
It was peaceful, with the dim Mars twilight still seeping through the sky lights. The various equipment turned on and off. A clank here, a whoosh over there were the only noises interrupting Bill's thoughts. He deliberately breathed, inhaling the ripening fruit, the green stems, and even the manure smell was welcome. His mind wandered and for a few minutes, he didn't think of anything but the plants in front of him. It was almost like being back on the farm, working a field only there were no birds singing and no hot sun on his back.
His Com pad buzzed.
"Shit," he blurted.
This had better be important. He set his implements down and took the pad out of his pocket. "Yes?"he asked, letting his irritation show in his voice.
"Um, sir…Mr. Compton?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"This is Freddy down at the dock. Ah, I'm really REALLY sorry to bother you sir, I know this is your day off and Julie said that…."
"WHAT is it? " Bill interrupted.
"We need your assistance at the ship sir. We have a vampire passenger who is …well..he's having trouble and we think it would be best if another vampire …."
Bill rolled his eyes since he didn't have the imaging activated on the pad. "You can't handle it?"
"Well, he's kind of old and …well..he's agitated and we're concerned what might happen if we try to force him off the ship. The pilot said he has a schedule to keep and they can't get the ship prechecks done with him still on board. Everyone else has been unloaded sir. I'm really sorry sir, I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't….."
"I'll be right there," Bill said and clicked off.
He couldn't believe it. They hadn't had a vampire visitor for months, why today of all days? "Kind of old", Bill rolled his eyes again. Freddy thought all vampires were "kind of old". Unfortunately, Bill was obligated to deal with it since even an young vampire could cause considerable damage to the ship, which the station would be required to pay for.
Bill marched out of the peaceful space, setting down the spool and bags on his way. He marched down the tube, past excited tourists in the Mezzanine, into the quarantine area and up to a very apologetic Freddy.
"Again, I'm SO SORRY sir," he babbled as he waved the passenger manifest in Bill's direction.
Bill simply waved his hand away, not hiding his irritation. "Where is he?"
"He's in his quarters, the one designated for vampires." Freddy replied quietly.
The security guards walked Bill down the long tube to the ship. Once they got to the entrance, they nodded to Bill and stood back. Bill climbed in and walked down the cramped "hallway" towards the passenger cabins. When he got to the cabin, he stopped and knocked.
"Hello? This is Bill Compton, I'm here to assist you," he called out. He didn't have to worry about them knowing he was a vampire. All vampires who came to Mars knew who he was. There was no answer. He tensed and readied himself in case the vampire was agitated enough to jump him. All the vampires who visited Mars were younger than him, but the older ones had the worst time adjusting. He had to be on his guard, but his comfort with the Mars gravity gave him an advantage if he had to fight them.
He pressed the override for the doorlock and it hissed open. A half remembered scent drifted out. Leaning in carefully, he peeked around the corner into the dark cabin. "Hello? I'm here to help. Please speak to me."
"Bill?" A deep voice trembled from the back corner of the cabin.
If Bill had been human he would have fainted.
"Eric?"
"Yes"
Bill stood frozen in the doorway, stunned. Well, this explained why he hadn't heard from Eric in a couple weeks, although the ship had communication and Eric could have told him he was coming. What the hell?
"What are you doing here?" Bill blurted out.
Silence, then the deep voice spoke again. "Bill, can you help me?"
Bill tried to remember the last time Eric had ever asked him for help. He tried to remember if he'd ever heard or seen Eric afraid. He'd seen Eric jump into a fighting mass of more powerful vampires, yelling defiantly, with a smile surrounding gleaming fangs. And while Bill was trying to get his brain around this, Eric spoke again.
"Bill? Please help me"
He was definitely agitated and on a hair trigger. For reasons no one understood, the younger vampires had an easier time adjusting to the Mars gravity and its lack of a magnetic field. Bill was used to it because he'd lived on Mars for so long, but older vampires found it completely disorienting and distressing. No vampire over Bill's age had ever visited Mars in the history of its occupation, much less one Eric's age.
Reminding himself he wasn't a young vampire anymore and he could handle himself in this gravity, Bill focused on the task at hand. "I'll help you, please come near the doorway," Bill urged. He didn't want to go into the dark tightly enclosed cabin. This would give Eric an advantage in an altercation.
"I can't."
"Yes you can, just move really slowly. I know the gravity feels odd," Bill said gently.
He could see Eric's tall figure move awkwardly towards the doorway. He braced himself, just in case.
Reaching his hands out, he felt the Vikings large hands slide into his, grasping with a death grip. He needed to keep talking. "You're doing fine, just keep walking slowly. I'll hold onto you." He backed up slowly and Eric followed. It was a good thing there were no humans on the ship right now. This was a protocol they'd come up with years ago, after a bad situation with an older vamp.
He drew Eric into the lighted hallway. His blue eyes were very wide and darting around like a trapped animal. The long golden hair was mussed and tumbled along one side of the Viking's face. He looked the same as the last time Bill had seen him. Bill chided himself. Well of COURSE he looked the same, he was a vampire too. Bill was having trouble thinking logically at the moment since he was still recovering from his surprise at seeing Eric here. He had a dozen questions, but they would have to wait.
"Here, take my arm," Bill offered, sticking his arm out for Eric to hold. "I'll walk you to your quarters. Once you've rested a bit, you'll feel much better." After 24hours, most vampires started calming down and couple days after that, they were usually able to move about almost normally. Fortunately, Mar's rotated at a speed similar to earth, so they worked off a 24hour clock (approximately) . There were just more of them since it took almost twice as long to orbit the sun as earth did.
"Can I go to your quarters with you?" Eric asked, throwing Bill for another loop.
"Yes, of course," he heard himself answer.
They started inching along. Bill felt like he was helping an old man cross the street, but he kept his comments to himself. He couldn't take Eric through the Mezzanine like this. Calling the security guards on duty, he advised them he'd be passing through restricted areas. There were back ways around the station that were only used by operations personnel. Technically, it was against the rules for anyone else to be in them, but compared to the potential danger of having Eric go past all the hyped up tourists, this made more sense to Bill.
Finally, they made it to his hallway and his room. He flipped the bed down immediately and lowered Eric onto it. He'd forgotten the window. Mar's twilight lasted much longer than earth's due to the high altitude dust. Even though the sun looked like someone holding a flashlight over the horizon, Eric flinched away from the window.
"Caroline, please seal the windows right now," Bill commanded.
"Yes Bill" the computer answered and the blinds started unfolding and drawing across the window immediately. Once the room was completely blocked in and Bill had turned on a couple small lights, Eric started to relax.
"Please heat up some Syn for me please, Caroline…type O…"Bill said after thinking for a second. Once it was ready, he pushed the warm mug into Eric's hands. He sat in his favorite chair, observing the vampire who had once been his sheriff, although they hadn't been called that for centuries.
Now that the room was enclosed and barely lit, Eric seemed to be relaxing on the bed.
"Are you feeling better?" Bill asked politely, not wanting to push.
"Yes, thank you," Eric answered, taking a sip of Syn. He smacked his lips together a bit, looking down at the mug. He looked up at Bill with a question.
"It's the dried mix, but I've modified the machine, so it comes out much better." He smiled.
"Thank you," Eric repeated. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Bill tried to remember when he'd ever heard Eric apologize. He was becoming buried in surprises this evening. Now, that Eric was calmer, he decided to ask the big question.
"It's fine Eric," Bill soothed. "But…what are you doing here?"
There was a bit of sparkle twinkling from the blue eyes.
"You didn't think I'd miss your one thousandth birthday did you?" Eric smiled, smirking like the old days.
So much for having a quiet, uneventful birthday.
TBC
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A/N, I realize this story jumps a bit. It's totally on purpose, and I've tried to create breaks in between sections, but this site has trouble with this and I often don't realize the breaks aren't there until the chapter is posted for everyone to see. Sorry about that. I've also noticed that sometimes entire words get dropped when I post chapters, not much I can do about that, hopefully nothing important goes missing.
Thanks for your support btw, I was so happy to see such enthusiastic reviews on the first chapter