To the Power Born: A Tale of the Slayers

Part 17: Unholy Alliances

"Buffy, can I transfer to Australia if somebody manages to bring back Mayor Wilkins?" I asked.

We'd just discovered that the witch who had inadvertently caused Colin to be summoned to our world and who had sent the mother of a Slayer who died in the Battle of Bloomington to kill Buffy was Catherine Madison, who had been thought dead since long before her daughter, Amy, almost destroyed the world. I was feeling a lot worried about so-called dead and gone enemies, right then.

"Not unless you promise to take me with you," Buffy said. She sighed and stepped forward to deal with the manager of the Wal-Mart where Catherine Madison's most recently summoned demon had delivered its message of Madison's intent to kill Buffy and metaphysically torture Willow, then tried to kill either Willow's girlfriend, Lydia, or me. Or, on second thought, probably both of us. "In fact, we could leave now…."

I watched as Buffy dealt with the store manager, easing his ruffled feathers by paying for all damaged merchandise (mostly broken bottles of cleaning solution), and explaining who she was and what we'd done. The manager was as impressed as most civilians are by us Slayer-types, and accepted what she said. The cops who came out… less nice. Oh, they didn't make actual trouble, but they were obviously of that majority of local police who thought we Slayers were nothing but vigilantes and troublemakers, and only cooperated with us because it was required of them. Buttheads.

We went home after paying for the groceries and training supplies, and Buffy called a meeting of all non-trainee Slayers, all Watchers and Guardians as soon as we got home. I hesitated, thinking that since Daddy had taken me off the active list because of my sudden issues with thinking things through, I shouldn't go, but Buffy said, "Come on, Jocelyn— you're good with the intel, I want you along."

I went, and I sat and I listened, and I tried to just… let my brain go out of focus, like I had when I'd figured out that the problem was Warren.

Catherine Madison had been the second problem that Buffy had dealt with after her move to Sunnydale. The woman had once been the captain of a champion Sunnydale cheerleading team, and had come in conflict with Buffy and the Scooby Gang when, in Buffy's sophomore year at Sunnydale High, she'd swapped bodies with her teen-aged daughter, Amy, in order to try and recapture her glory days as a cheerleader using Amy's body. She'd been defeated, and they thought her dead— but, Buffy admitted, they hadn't known what the spell that was meant to hit Buffy and that had been deflected back on Catherine Madison actually did.

Giles suggested that it might have been some sort of banishment, but Willow said that wasn't likely— if she'd been banished to another dimension, either she'd have come back much sooner, or not at all.

"I really don't know what it might have been," Willow said after shooting down Giles's theory. "It won't be easy to find out, since I can't get at anything of the physical location for a retrocognition spell, since the physical location? Pretty much not physical anymore. I'll see what I can do… maybe a variant on what we did for Colin would work, but it would be actually harder since Catherine's magic would probably interfere with the magic of the spell— like two signals on frequencies that are really close. Messy. I'll get to work, though."

"All right, thank you, Willow," Giles said. "Does anyone else have any thoughts?"

"Um, maybe," I said. Everyone turned to look at me, and I got flustered. "It's maybe stupid, but— not a witch, so I don't know."

"Let us hear it," Xander said in a relaxed voice. "Can't be any worse than my only idea, which, for your amusement, I tell you is that she time jumped to get past Buffy, and is pissed to find out that Buffy's still here and that Amy went crazy and had to be stopped… permanently. Of course, since she was aiming the spell at Buffy in the first place… not so likely."

"That's not all that crazy," I said. "Even if it's not likely, it's not nuts. But… look, she'd already done body-swapping once. What if she did it again, and it went not-right, and it took her years to get actual control of whoever she jumped into? She might have meant to put Buffy in her body, even, and her in Buffy's— giving her Buffy's body to work with. Well… what happens when you swap bodies with… yourself?"

"That's not impossible, Jocelyn," Willow said, smiling at me. "It's not real likely, but it's not impossible. I'll definitely look into that, thanks."

"Yes, it's an interesting question," Giles mused. "What would happen if you attempted to exchange bodies with another, and the spell was reflected back on you?"

The meeting broke up, and I went off with Aunt Elaine to help her pack— she and Uncle Ballard and family were getting ready for their annual vacation on the Asimov Space Station, where they'd stay at the Hilton there, and she'd toy with zero-g dance stuff, looking for something else worthy of filming in the wake of Dance the Heavens Home.

While we were packing, Aunt Elaine asked, "Jocelyn… you remember how I didn't get you a Christmas present last year? Said it'd be late?"

"Sure, I remember," I said. "I'm still a kid, Aunt Elaine— I never forget a present. Is it time?"

"It is," Aunt Elaine said. She gave me a slow, sweet smile, one that said she was about to hit me with something marvelous, and said, "Seems I'll not be buying Colin a present this year, either, or Mi Kyong— I'll probably use their birthdays for skips. Ballard and Rose are telling them about it about now."

"Okay, now you have me all hyper-interested," I admitted. "What's up?"

"Well… your mom is packing for you, right about now," Aunt Elaine said— and didn't say anything else.

I'm horribly stupid. It took me several seconds to get it. I stared at her, all uncomprehending, for maybe ten seconds— and then it clicked.

"Oh… my… GOD!" I cried. "Aunt Elaine, you can't mean— are you serious?"

"I can mean," Aunt Elaine said, hugging me hard. "And I'm very serious.

"You're coming with us, Jocelyn— you and Colin and Mi Kyong, if they aren't scared of the idea. Given that Colin spent time flying in space just for the fun of it, back on his world… I'm thinking he'll come for sure."

I couldn't speak, I was too hyper-excited and happy to even think of the right words— so I just hugged her more until the words came.

"That's an awful lot of money, Aunt Elaine," I finally said. "I think you'd better skip my birthday and Christmas again this year, at least!"

"Bug dung," Aunt Elaine said cheerfully. "Sweetie, I'm filthy-sickening-foul-disgusting-stinking rich. I don't think I'd be able to actually ever spend the money I made off of Dance the Heavens Home, even if I actually tried. So… you get birthday and Christmas presents, and you smile and hug me and thank me— and you say not another word about it, or I show you what happens when an older Slayer who's been doing Capoeira since before you were born decides to kick your butt.

"Next year, I'll take Stephen, and Belinda and Danielle the year after. Robin went with us last year, and I'll get around to everyone who wants to come, eventually. I… I thought about asking Joyce, but… not yet. Not now. Next year, very probably."

"I love you, you over-generous-aunt-type-lady," I said, and hugged her again.

"I love you, too, super-sweet-niece-type-girl," she said. "Now… with things being so tense, we aren't staying as long this year— just two weeks, as opposed to the usual month. So we'll be here for the Fourth of July picnic and stuff.

"After Alex… the kids need to get away, and we didn't want to wait, so… shorter trip and sooner, this year."

"Wow," I said, and hugged her again. "Two weeks in space— Aunt Elaine, thank you! I… maybe the time away will let me relax some, too."

"Yeah, everyone's a mess, right now," she said. After a hesitation, she added, "Honey, if you need to talk about… well, anything, and can't or just don't want to talk to your folks… I'm here. And I'm good with the secrets and stuff."

"I know, Aunt Elaine," I said. "It's good to know— but I don't want to talk about it, not yet. I'm not sure… look, I'm not totally sure why what's messing me up is messing me up now, even. I need to— crap."

"You need to understand it before you try to talk about it," Aunt Elaine said, her eyes on mine.

"Yes," I said, breathing a sigh. "Yes, in a nutshell."

"No problem," she said. "And hey, if it's not me you talk to when you're ready, that's cool— so long as you do talk about it."

"I will," I said. "When I know how, I will."

About that time, Royal scratched on the balcony door of the room we were in, and I grinned and let him in. He perched on my shoulder and sent, *I understand we are going into space. I am going to have to insist that no pictures or video be taken of me flying until I have accustomed myself to lower gravity. The indignity… Glitter is a better dragon than I, to bear it so well.*

"Uh, Royal, most pseudo dragons hate the crap you have to go through to go into space," I pointed out. "Are you sure…?"

(Pseudo dragons have to be drugged into sleep, then arranged carefully in heavy foam padding in these funky boxes, to that they don't get damaged by acceleration. Only Aunt Rose's friend Glitter and Linnea's friend Lightning consistently made the trip with them.)

*Of course I'm sure,* Royal sent. He gave me a smug look (pseudo dragons are very good at looking smug) and added, *We are all going this time, even the hatchlings— because we do not have to deal with the heavy acceleration of normal space travel at all.*

"Huh?" I said. "Now wait a second—"

*Silly girl,* Royal sent. *Ballard, brilliant and generous as he is, saw a simple solution.

*Jocelyn, Ballard has had made a simple airtight and vacuum-safe shelter that is moderately aerodynamic, equipped with an air supply sufficient to our needs— and a very strong cable for Colin to hold onto while he pulls us up to space.*

I gawped at him, for a moment, then slowly grinned. "Uncle Ballard is a genius!"

*Yes, I said he was brilliant and I meant it,* Royal sent. *Since Colin doesn't have to attain escape velocity in a sudden burst, not being limited by fuel concerns, we need never suffer the crush of acceleration that you humans have to deal with.*

"The only hard part was convincing the shuttle service to give us access to the cargo airlock with no questions asked," Aunt Elaine said, grinning. "We tossed enough money at the Lockheed Space Operations people— and the hard part became easy."

"Oh, cool!" I gushed. "I get to go to space, and my best friend can come without hassles!

"Colin is getting so laid tonight!"

That cracked Aunt Elaine up, and she laughed so hard that she had to sit down.

I hugged Royal and cuddled him for a minute— then helped Aunt Elaine finish packing.

Interlude: St. Louis, Missouri, just after dark

Catherine Madison came out of the restaurant where she'd had a wonderful dinner, looked around, and saw two people approaching her… purposefully. She readied a defensive spell, just in case they were affiliated with the Slayers and had found her somehow, and simply waited for them a few feet to the left of the restaurant entrance.

She watched the two approach, both looking comfortable and relaxed, very non-threatening. The man was tall, and looked a lot like the actor who'd played the love interest in the show Amy had loved so much when she was… twelve? Thirteen? My So Called Life, that was the name of the show. His auburn hair was short, neatly cut, and he looked reasonably muscular. The girl… twentyish, maybe? Sunshine-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, startlingly dark blue-gray eyes, and absolutely gorgeous features, cheekbones high and prominent, a beautiful bow of a mouth, and a delicately pointed chin.

"Hello," the man said. "This may sound a little odd, but… my friend here said that you share a goal with us, and I thought we might talk about helping each other achieve that goal."

"You're right, it sounds a little odd," Catherine said. "What goal is it that your friend thinks we share?"

"Well, that's not something that's easy to put any sort of delicately," the man said, smiling the kind of smile that often made people nervous. "So… I guess I'll just put it bluntly.

"We want to kill Buffy Summers— Buffy Harris, now— and pretty much everyone around her."

"Oh, well," Catherine said, smiling a smile much like that of the man, "in that case… let's go somewhere and talk, shall we?"

Ten minutes later, the three of them sat in the back room of a small, pleasant bar, just the three of them in a room made for as many as thirty— but the owner had been very willing to let them have to themselves once Warren had handed him a hundred dollars. A waitress had brought them a half carafe of wine for the ladies and a large glass of beer for the man, told them to press the service button she left them if they needed her, and gone away.

"Okay," Warren said, "let me explain what I have in mind, and if you like it, we can introduce ourselves then. If not… no names, less risk."

"Reasonable," Catherine said. "Cautious. I like it. Please, go on."

"Okay," Warren said. "First, to explain how we got here, found you. My companion here occasionally has visions of the past, present or the future, often fairly detailed and— so far— very accurate. She had a vision of you performing a spell which summoned a demon that possessed a woman who attacked Buffy Harris at her son's visitation. In the same vision, she saw you doing a couple of other things, all from a distance. I like that— good tactics, lets you keep your anonymity and strike again later.

"I made that attack at the visitation possible— I'm the one who killed Alex Harris. And it occurred to me, after my friend here had her vision, that we might accidentally get in each other's way while trying to kill Buffy and company. So… look, if we work together, we can probably be more effective. You cover a hole in my setup nicely, and I can cover the other end of things for you. With my companion providing us intelligence via her visions… we could be very hard to stop."

"I… see," Catherine said slowly. "Well… what hole will I be covering? And what is the other end that you will cover for me?"

"I can't do magic," Warren said. "Not at all, not a drop. Used to be able to, even if I wasn't an expert— but now? Nothing. At all.

"As for what I bring to the table… I'm a technician. An inventor. I'm a genius." He said the words without undue pride, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can build things pretty far past the standard technology in several fields."

"I shouldn't think that would be enough to prevent you from doing magic at all," Catherine said. "All living beings— defining life as anything animated by a soul, demon or higher being— can perform magic. Ritual magic, at least, not the more… innate kind that I can do."

"I may not actually have a soul," Warren admitted. "If not… I don't miss it. I'm… not human anymore. Not by the standard definition, anyway."

"Then… what are you?" Catherine asked, intrigued.

In reply, Warren laid his arm on the table, palm up, and ran his thumb along the middle of his forearm. A soft beep sounded, and his arm folded open neatly, the skin separating along lines that Catherine would have sworn weren't there the moment before.

Underneath were dozens of wires around an articulated metallic skeleton.

"Let's just say that Superman isn't the real man of tomorrow, shall we?" Warren said. "I'm still a person— I'm just… non-organic, now."

"Oh, my," Catherine said, sounding interested. "How was this done?"

"I've been a robotics fiend my whole life," Warren said. "I got really, really good at it and I… let's just say that, back then I had… issues. I wasted my talent on some pretty stupid stuff.

"Eventually, I hooked up with a couple of other guys who had unusual talents, and we came into conflict with Buffy Summers. She humiliated me, hurt me, stopped me from something… that would have made me rich. So I decided to kill her.

"Now, I used to have issues with impulse control, but I wasn't so stupid as to go off to kill the Slayer without taking precautions. I had a robotic body all ready, and I duped my consciousness into it before going after Buffy. Things went wrong, I didn't kill Summers— but I did kill Willow Rosenberg's girlfriend. An accident, but hey— shit happens.

"To make a long story short, Willow saved Buffy's life, then killed me. Not happy about that… but I'd turn away from killing her to kill Buffy."

"And I'd pass up a chance at killing Buffy to kill Willow," Catherine said. "This does look… promising.

"However, I'd like to know what your companion gets from all of this."

"That's simple," the girl said, smiling a rather predatory smile. "I help him, and you if you join us, with the visions I have and in return, we make sure that someone else dies, someone affiliated with Buffy and the others, someone whose death will hurt her, making her hurt more before she dies.

"She turned a friend of mine, a man I loved— I was in a sorry state when I loved him, but I did love him— against me, against all he ever was."

The girl's watch beeped, and she held up a finger, shut off the alarm, and took a pill from a small bottle she pulled from a pocket.

"Sorry," she said, after washing the pill down with some wine. "I'm… without the pills, I'm not at all sane. I like being sane— so I'm religious about my pills.

"So… what I get from this is the death of Buffy Summers— and before she dies, I get the death of Angel Kilpatrick."

"What did Angel Kilpatrick do that makes you want to kill him?" Catherine asked.

"He made me a vampire," the girl said, looking into her wineglass. "But before he did that… he deliberately and very effectively drove me completely insane. If not for my friend, here, I'd be talking to the moon and mutilating dolls right now, bloody likely."

"Honey, your accent is showing," Warren said mildly. "Remember, that could mark you as easily as your old looks."

"Sorry," the girl said, sounding completely Midwestern American again. She looked at Catherine, said, "So there it is. We can all help each other… if you're interested."

"Yes, I do believe I am," Catherine said, smiling. "I think we three could be very effective at slaughtering those bitches and all of their little friends.

"I'm Catherine Madison. Amy Madison was my daughter."

"Wow," Warren said. "Yeah, makes sense you'd want them dead, too.

"I'm Warren Mears, and my friend here is Drusilla Maddox."

They sat, and they talked, and they planned until the bar closed around them.

Jocelyn:

Let me tell you about space travel in one word; uncomfortable.

The couches are nice, and they're comfortable— gel or water padded, really soft upholstery, all that jazz. Then you launch, and comfortable is a thing of the far-away, long-ago, distant past.

I weighed one hundred and six pounds the day we went to space. Well, at launch time, I suddenly weighed seven hundred and forty-two pounds. Now, properly braced, I can pick up a good bit more than that— but that doesn't mean I like weighing that much! Not at all! In fact, I hated it.

I made no complaint, not at all. The non-Slayers of the group had to feel it worse, and they didn't complain!

I did, however, wish I'd ridden with the pseudo dragons!

On the flipside, once we were in zero gravity, I experienced no physical illness— I didn't get spacesick. Aunt Sh'rin, Nathaniel and Linnea asked for injections to prevent it beforehand, saying that they only ever needed the one, to counter the initial shock, then they felt fine. Me, I skipped it, promised the stewardess I'd ask for it if I felt at all queasy, and meant it— but I never felt queasy.

Now, disoriented is another story. When up and down go away, it's kind of hard to get your bearings. It took me three tries to get myself situated near the portal that looked out on the earth for the first little while of the journey… but, oh, thank the Powers, it was worth it! The brief trip up with Colin had been better, both because I was in his arms and because we hadn't been so high, and the Earth had filled my vision. But still… our world is so beautiful that it hurts, when you look at her from space.

I watched the Earth turn slowly and majestically until I heard the door to the cargo compartment open— and suddenly, there was a storm of tumbling pseudo dragons in the compartment— and all of us found ourselves laughing hysterically. Even the stewardess had to grab on to a handhold and hang on while she laughed.

Six adults, eight not-adults, counting Colin, Mi Kyong and I, so… fourteen pseudo dragons. Only two of them had made more than one trip into space— and the other twelve most definitely did not have their space-legs yet. Every flap of their wings pushed them as much (relative to their position) up as it did forward, more so, even, without gravity to turn it all to forward motion.

After a bit, Royal made it to me, wrapped his tail around my wrist and let me pull him close and cuddle him.

*This,* Royal sent, *is going to take some getting used to— but I think… I think I like it. It's… more free than normal flight, even.*

"I'm going to have to get used to it, too, sweetie," I said. "So… we can adapt together. And you, at least, can get telepathic hints from Glitter and Lightning."

*A good point,* Royal said. *They are going to work at helping us all once we get to the space station.*

The stewardess came by about then, asked if Royal wanted a dragon-space-sick preventative, and he grinned at her and shook his head.

"I didn't really think you would," she said, scratching Royal's chin in a fashion that said she'd known a few pseudo dragons in her time. "I've noticed that most of you people only get spacesick if your human friends do. Since this young lady seems fine, I didn't think you'd want anything. Nice to be right."

"This is Royal," I said. "And I'm Jocelyn."

"I'm Marta," she replied. "Pleasure to meet you. And… Royal? As in the Royal who was part of the first litter hatched here?"

*I am that Royal, yes,* he sent, including her. *I am glad I was born here— Glitter's tales of her other world… this one can be dangerous, but not so constantly and continuously.*

*Besides, Jocelyn is perfect in nearly every way. If I could only get her to nap more….*

"You are definitely not a counterfeit pseudo dragon," Marta said. "My brother has a friend of your species, and he practically lives to curl up on a nice warm human and take a nap."

*I am surprised you do not have a companion of my kind,* Royal said. *I like you.*

"Thank you, Royal," Marta said. "But I've tried to avoid it. It wouldn't be fair to a dragon or to me, because I'm on a four week rotation— four weeks up here, four weeks down there. I couldn't ask a pseudo dragon to make that sort of journey constantly, it wouldn't be fair— it's much harder on you folks, usually. And I'll have you know, I'm damned curious about how you got up here— but the bonus for not asking is scary, so I'll bite my tongue."

*A wise decision,* Royal said. *A large bonus will allow you to retire sooner, which will allow you to have a companion of my kind sooner.*

"Damned skippy!" Marta said with a laugh, and went off to see if anyone else wanted anything. (And to meet everyone's pseudo dragon.)

A couple of minutes later I found myself seated between Colin and Mi Kyong, being snuggled by him and our dragon pals while Mi Kyong sat and talked to us both. Nifty!

We got to Asimov Station about four in the afternoon by our personal clocks, after having taken a chartered flight to Orlando the day before, stayed in a hotel in Cape Canaveral (the town) overnight, and gotten to Robert A. Heinlein Spaceport about eight in the morning for an eleven o'clock shuttle up to Asimov Station. (Colin and the pseudo dragons left from a secluded beach location an hour before that, so that they'd be in position to meet up with us.)

That space station is just freaking COOL! A giant donut with even more giant sprinkles is what it looks like— or like a giant donut with Lego blocks of various sizes and shapes sticking out of it, maybe. (Okay, I'm not a space architect— sue me!)

We docked and went inboard, and I got gravity back, though much reduced. The pseudo dragons were mostly relieved, even if it was just a third of normal gravity.

"All right," called Marta, who had apparently been assigned as our guide for the duration of our stay (turns out she did several jobs up there, depending on need). "Three of you have never been here before, and one of you… well, Autumn, congratulations on being Chosen, kiddo— but it means you're going to have to be careful all over again, because your body will have to adapt to conditions here now that you're stronger and faster.

"The rest of you… be careful. Small steps, no running or jumping, not until you've had time to get used to things. Think about walking, like you've been sick and are recovering. Pseudo dragons… those of you who've not been here in a long time or ever before, please, stay with your humans for right now, we have safe areas for you to practice flying in various gravity fields.

"For those of you who haven't been here before, here are some simple rules of low-gee traffic…."

She went over everything, the rules of right of way in low-gee and especially zero-gee, as we all walked slowly to the Hilton. The corridors on the way there were all solid walls, but the hotel itself…. wow. It was built under a great big dome, and the dome was, of course, oriented towards the middle of the ring of the station, to keep down as down— but the sides of the station where the hotel was had been replaced with clear material, too… and the view of naked space took our breaths away.

We got settled in, and Marta gathered all us newbies— me, Colin, Mi Kyong and, because of her new physicality, Autumn, in the living room and said, "Before you all relax and roam, Ballard and his family wanted me to talk to all of you about zero-gee movement lessons. You can't start today, and not too soon after breakfast— so how does ten o'clock tomorrow morning sound?"

We all agreed, though Colin said, "I may surprise you with those— is there such a thing as an early passing, or something?"

"Oh, sure— everyone learns at different speeds." Marta grinned, and said, "I've seen people take two hours to master it, or just… totally fail. But let me note that everyone I've ever known who totally failed to learn to move in zero-gee also depended on anti nausea drugs— and none of you needed them. My personal bet is you'll all have it by the end of classes tomorrow— last class ends at supper time. Once you've passed zero-gee movement, you go to vacuum suit operations— and all of you get the full course, Ballard's orders. He wants you to be able to go EVA with him and his family without a station guide tethered to you."

"Sweet!" I said, and Marta grinned at me.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like it. You have the look, Jocelyn."

"The look?" I said. "What look?"

"Well, I shouldn't have singled you out," she said. "Mi Kyong has it, too. The look is that expression on your face that says, 'I've wanted to come here since I was a little bitty thing, dreamed about it— and now that I'm here, I can hardly believe that it's living up to my expectations!'

"Colin, you don't have that— you have the gleam. The gleam being the 'I've come home again' gleam. You've been in space before, yes?"

"Yes, I have," he said over Mi Kyong and I laughing at how totally Marta had skewered us. "I will still take the classes— I'm not used to a spacesuit, and… well, I need to learn to move your way, not mine."

"Good deal," Marta said. "Now, Ballard and company have plans for you guys for the evening, so I'll be back tomorrow at nine-thirty, and we'll head for the Zero Bubble."

Zero-gee movement… well, it took a lot of work, more for me than the others— I didn't ace the test until right before supper. I'm not going to try and explain it all here— I could fill a book!— but let's just say that a lifetime of reflexes have to be overridden. Ugh!

But, just before six the next evening, I made a full trip around the maze set up in the Zero Bubble (a two hundred and fifty foot diameter bubble built straight out from the axis of Asimov Station, made of a plastic-like stuff that could be polarized to keep out the view of space for classes), passing through hoops, around free-floating walls and boxes, bouncing off of colored-spotlight targets shone on various points of the bubble, and generally moving like a grasshopper on acid. I made in ten seconds under the required time, no bobbles or gaffes— then launched myself at Marta for a hug. She'd been very patient with me, worked hard to teach me— Colin had passed before lunch (BIG surprise), and Autumn with him, Mi Kyong by an hour after lunch— but Marta stuck with it the extra four hours it took me. She deserved a hug!

"Okay, that was a pass," Marta said, hugging back. (And zero-gee hugs are much more close-contact than normal— you have to use your legs, too, to make it work). "Good deal, Jocelyn. So… tomorrow morning, right after breakfast, we start all of you but Autumn on vacuum suit operations. Two days of that, if you pass the first time, and you can go EVA without being tied to me or another guide."

"Sweet!" I said, and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Marta!"

"You're very welcome," she said. "Now— better scoot, if you're going to shower and be ready for dinner. See you in the morning."

Two days later, I was passed for minimal-supervision EVA, and that I got right the first time— Daddy had drilled into me a long time before that that you always, always respected and took care of your equipment, which attitude helped a lot.

The fourth day of our trip, I got to go outside and play— and watch Aunt Elaine dance. For that… well, I was glad the suit's automated alarm told me when to go in and change my air bottles. Watching her dance, I'd have forgotten until it was too late without the alarm.

I spent a total of six hours outside that day— heavenly, and I mean that literally!

That night, someone got murdered over in the science part of the station— and it looked like a vampire had done the killing.