Those Of My Blood Part 2

Abbot poked at the signal again.

"Not feeling well?" asked Mirelle. "I have some pills."

"Oh, no-I'm fine."

She cranked the free-fall shuffler. "Mind if I deal?"

Clearly, Abbot didn't want to play this game, but could find no graceful way out of it short of using Influence to divert them. Abbot himself had taught t.i.tus the cardinal rule: Influence is a last resort. Too much, and people notice their own odd behavior.

Oblivious to all this, Mirelle went on. "We'll secure our calculators in the middle of the table. There's a small net around here somewhere-"

While she and Gold searched the edge of the table for the compartment and found the net, pa.s.sing it around to collect instruments, Abbot fidgeted. t.i.tus had never seen his father squirm before.

When Gold pa.s.sed the net, Abbot made a business of fumbling with the Varian. Suddenly, t.i.tus knew. There's a piece of the SOS transmitter in there!

Abbot met t.i.tus's gaze, and his eyes narrowed. t.i.tus said, "This should be interesting. I've never won at poker against you, and I've never seen you stymied by a pocket calculator. But there's always a first time for everything."

Abbot relaxed, and with a cool smile pa.s.sed the net back to Ivlirelle. Fastening the net as close to the middle of the table as she could reach, Mirelle announced, "I warn you gentlemen, I do intend to win. I hope each of you does too."

Abbot replied, "Rest a.s.sured, I do." And to t.i.tus, he added, "And I shall."

I did it! He's going to play!

While Mirelle dealt the cards into four holders and spun the table to distribute them, t.i.tus thought hard. Connie had said that the Tourists' transmitter was being s.h.i.+pped to Project Station in seven components, which would then be a.s.sembled to look like a legitimate part of the probe vehicle. In place, it would function as what it resembled, but it would also contain the powerful transmitter that would use the probe's antenna to send a signal hidden under the humans' message. Two of the Tourists' transmitter components would be programmed at Project Station: the targeting computer that would turn the antenna in case the humans sent their signal in the wrong direction, and the component holding the message itself.

Three components were at the station already, two more were being s.h.i.+pped as cargo, and two were being hand carried by their agent. By Abbot. One, at least, in the Varian.

Abbot would surely carry the ones he could least expect to fabricate at the station in case of loss or damage.

As if following his thoughts, Abbot said, "t.i.tus, I am going to win."

"We'll see. If we play simple draw poker with no outside influences affecting the rules, I just might win."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Mirelle. "Simple draw poker it is. No wild cards, no optional hands."

Abbot raised an eyebrow at t.i.tus. "All right, we'll make it a contest of pure poker skill-no other influences."

He's either overconfident or I've underestimated him. In the Past, Abbot's apparent arrogance had always turned out to be extreme modesty. t.i.tus wiped cold sweat off his palms. In a truly fair game, t.i.tus knew he might even win. But- The escort attendant poked her head in the door and called pleasantly, "Dr. Nandoha?"

He waved her away. "Never mind. I've become engaged." There was no way Abbot could take the Varian with him without using Influence to make the others overlook his odd behavior.

Mirelle located the package of miniature magnetic poker chips. "Who wants to be banker?"

"You do it, Mirelle," suggested Abner. "You're the only woman here, and we all know what we're playing for-don't we, fellows?" He glanced from Abbot to t.i.tus.

Mirelle shrugged. "I'll divide the chips and if you run out, you're out of the game. No bookkeeping. Whoever ends up with the most chips wins. We play until docking maneuvers and settle up in line at the boarding gate."

"We should be able to settle up here," objected Abbot.

Mirelle spun the table distributing the chips. "Abbot! You doubt your ability to remember calculator commands?"

t.i.tus was disturbed by the way Abbot held her gaze. He knew all too well how Abbot used human women, and he despaired as Abbot's lips trembled hungrily.

But the other was no more hungry than t.i.tus at the outset of the mission. Abbot mastered himself easily. "I have not had cause to doubt my abilities in a great while."

They fell to playing in a concentrated silence, each of them focused on the discard pile, calculating odds, measuring each others' expressions for any hint of worry. Abbot, no doubt, wasn't worried. He had nearly total recall.

While Abner Gold pondered his second bet, t.i.tus caught Andre Mihelich peeking at the game over his newsletter.

"Raise ten," announced Abner, sliding a stack of chips out, taking care that they adhered to one another and the bottom one stuck firmly to the table.

"Call," announced Mirelle prettily.

She was yet a different person now. She acted as if each development was the delight of a lifetime. But she didn't chatter.

t.i.tus wished she'd just stop playing her anthropological game. Every once in a while, when something got through to her, she revealed flashes of her true self that intrigued him unbearably.

t.i.tus put his cards down. "I'm out." He'd been holding a pair of threes and a pair of twos. He figured Mirelle had at least a flush, and Abbot a full house or above, for he hadn't drawn any cards.

Abbot and Gold called. Mirelle won with a flush just one card higher than Abbot's. Then they each won a round, t.i.tus raking in the highest pot as he bluffed out the two humans when Abbot folded. But two rounds later, Mirelle was ahead and t.i.tus caught Abbot glaring at him. t.i.tus grinned back, knowing his father wouldn't bring Influence to bear after promising not to.

Play became brisk and silent, a battle of nerve in which even Mirelle settled into stony concentration. Mihelich lowered his newsletter and stared. Responding to the tension between t.i.tus and Abbot, the humans also played as if their lives depended on it. In a way, they did. The luren who'd respond to the Tourists' SOS would regard humans as cattle and Earth's civilization as an inconvenience to be wiped away. With all the s.p.a.ce stations long ago rendered defenseless by W. S. treaty, it would be no contest.

Then t.i.tus sensed a thrum of Influence gathering about Abbot. He might consider it fair to read the other players' cards or the next cards to be drawn. Looking straight at his father, he roused his own Influence and cast a wave that interfered with the older vampire's nearly tangible power. At will, Abbot could overpower anything t.i.tus could do. t.i.tus said, "I'm glad we're playing straight, uncomplicated draw poker. It reveals the mettle of one's opponents."

"Honor takes many forms," Abbot mused. "Sometimes real honor lies in the sacrifice of honor." Simultaneously, the Influence tension abated. Without even counting his chips, Abbot shoved them all to the center of the table.

Gold stared at the pile. He couldn't match the bet. He folded and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.

Mirelle matched the bet with one red chip to spare.

t.i.tus's hands shook as he counted chips. He was holding a royal flush, but there were eight hands that could beat his. He was pretty sure Abbot didn't have one of those, or he wouldn't have been worried enough to use Influence. But Mirelle might have that hand. Not might, does!

t.i.tus matched the bet, with one white chip left over. t.i.tus stared at her red chip. She's won.

"Throw it in, t.i.tus," urged Mirelle. "Raise."

It was a symbolic gesture, nothing more. Mirelle had won, but would be under Abbot's Influence in a flash as soon as the game was over. With a shrug, t.i.tus pushed the remaining white chip out. "Raise one."

Abbot placed his cards face down in their holder. "I'm out." His eyes never flickered, but his Influence gathered. He'd dictate to Mirelle how to distribute the calculators.

Mirelle fingered her red chip and explored t.i.tus's eyes. Then she gazed at Abbot. "I did say the one with the most chips at the end of the game would win, and that's me. But I'd rather match hands with t.i.tus. Winning seems to mean a lot to him. Perhaps if he wins, we'll find out why."

t.i.tus felt Abbot start, a frisson of alarm that s.h.i.+vered through the thick fabric of Influenced s.p.a.ce between them. Abbot had always dominated humans. He had never bothered to understand them. t.i.tus smiled. She had chosen him over Abbot, and he marveled at how warm that made him feel.

She snapped her cards down on the table. "Hearts. King. Queen. Jack. Ten. Nine."

t.i.tus, realizing she was in this only for fun, extended the tension much as he would prolong foreplay because a woman liked it. As if about to announce his win, he snapped his cards down. "Spades. Eight. Nine. Ten. Jack. Queen."

She burst out laughing. Twisting in her seat, she could just barely reach t.i.tus's shoulders to embrace him. "t.i.tus, you are wonderful! But even so, I'm glad I won."

Then she reached for the net. "I'll take Abner's TI-Alter, and give my custom job to." t.i.tus felt the Influence build. He tried to block Abbot. She paused and looked as if she'd forgotten what she'd intended to say then started over, "Since it seems to matter to t.i.tus and Abbot more than I'd ever expected, I'm going to award Abbot's Varian to t.i.tus. And my custom to Abbot. Which leaves t.i.tus's Bell to Abner." With a little frown, she said, "Doesn't that make perfect sense?"

"Are you sure that's the way you want it, Mirelle?" asked Abbot.

"Well?"

In a hard voice, t.i.tus answered, "She's sure. The game isn't over until we settle up!"

She c.o.c.ked her head to one side, and t.i.tus felt her strive against the Influence aimed at her. If a resistive human had fought Influence half so valiantly, the luren would have little chance in public. But Mirelle was susceptible. She said doubtfully, "I think I'm sure. The object of the game is to make it interesting. And since Abbot seems to want to keep his Varian out of t.i.tus's hands, the best way to make the game interesting is to put it into t.i.tus's hands."

Even though Abbot could have made her change her mind, these people would be confined with them for a year. It was essential not to arouse their suspicions. As he hesitated, the warning chime sounded and t.i.tus collected the Varian, pa.s.sing the others out as Mirelle had specified while they hurried to stow the cards and chips before docking maneuvers.

No sooner had the s.h.i.+p stopped pulsing and surging than the attendants appeared to escort them through the linked hatches and into G.o.ddard Station-the first stepping stone into s.p.a.ce, orbiting high above Earth's surface.

The station rotated, providing gravity. The lights were bright, but not too strong for t.i.tus's dark contacts. The air had the blank feel of dustless, processed air marbled with streaks of human odor. Under the hum of machinery, there was the sharp sound of human voices confined in a metal sh.e.l.l.

Abbot had contrived to stay behind t.i.tus all the way from the skybus to an area where the scientists had to pa.s.s a brief instrument check to determine their response to the low gravity, litus walked with one hand in his pocket on Abbot's Varian. seeing his chance, he squirmed through the press, muttering apologies, and headed for the hatch marked MEN. Glancing behind, he saw Abbot detained by a knot of laughing Turkish engineers teasing a Greek mathematician.

t.i.tus dodged around three women huddled over a glossy fax of a bubble chamber tracing, arguing heatedly. He caught half a sentence and chipped in, "No, if it were, it would go clockwise. Ask that tall, skinny gentleman over there." He pointed at Abbot.

As the women followed his gesture, he ducked through a crack in the wall of people and backed into the men's room. Two men pushed out past him discussing better designs for low-grav urinals. t.i.tus locked himself in a stall and attacked the Varian's case, using his thumbnail as a screwdriver. He heard the door open, and thought he was lost. The screw wouldn't budge. Then, with the steps coming toward him, it turned. Someone went into the adjacent stall, and t.i.tus knew it wasn't Abbot-should have known all along.

Calm down, he admonished himself. At last the case opened. He sorted through modified boards and connectors. He tricked me! He wanted me to believe there was a transmitter component in here!

Abbot was capable of such subtlety, and t.i.tus was ashamed for not having considered that before. But then a small bit of circuitry fell out into his hand. It was as long as his palm, and no more than five millimeters thick, but he could see the circuitry etching inside, and the microprocessor. It was an advanced design, glittering like a diffraction jewel, and it wasn't attached to the Varian.

The hatch opened again, and the room was flooded with Influence, silent, overwhelming.

t.i.tus's breath caught in his throat. He clamped his teeth onto his lower lip as he fought to turn his palm over and spill the component to the floor where he could crush it with his heel. His hand trembled, but refused to turn.

He summoned his own power to combat Abbot's Influence. From the adjacent stall came the sound of human retching. Cloaking his words, so the human wouldn't notice, Abbot whispered, "Put it back, boy, and I'll let the human rest."

"If he knew what he was suffering for, he'd surely volunteer," returned t.i.tus and made another supreme effort to drop the jewel-like chip and crush it.

Against the pall of Abbot's Influence, he could not force his hand to turn. With a silent snarl, he focused his power, feeling weak and helpless against the elder's might. He was a twig, and the older vampire an immense oak. He redoubled his effort, but his hand only shook violently.

His fingers, white with strain, uncurled a bit. Not from any conscious direction of t.i.tus's but simply from the strain, his arm spasmed, jerking his hand. The chip slid off his palm and fell lazily in the weak gravity, Coriolis force curving its trajectory. It glanced off the toilet rim and clanked into the polished steel bowl, which contained no water. The lucite chip clattered to rest on the mirror-bright surface, easy to retrieve if not for the searing ultraviolet rays triggered when the solid entered the field.

At the tink of plastic hitting metal, Abbot swarmed up the wall, his concentration wavering when he had to pay attention to how he moved in the light gravity. With a cry of triumph, t.i.tus fell against the flus.h.i.+ng bar. Abbot's Influence clamped down again, but the toilet mechanism sucked the component away into the main sewage tank.

t.i.tus looked up at Abbot, who was spread across the top of the stall gazing into the toilet. The power that had enveloped t.i.tus in an iron grip dwindled. The shock frozen onto Abbot's ageless face told t.i.tus he had struck a major blow.

Chapter three.

Abbot's urbanity returned. He even smiled with paternal pleasure. "I honestly didn't think you could defy me so strongly. You've grown, t.i.tus. I'm proud."

Next door, the human stopped retching. Abbot was now using Influence only to blank their conversation and his conspicuous perch. "But we're on the same side of this, you and I. We're both luren."

"Are we?" Residents preferred to think of themselves as vampires-humans living a post-death existence nourished by pre-death humans-but still natives of Earth. The Tourists, however, insisted on the ancestral name for their speciesa" luren-which presumably meant blood-kin, or The Blood, and regarded themselves as temporarily s.h.i.+pwrecked on a primitive planet.

"We are," said Abbot, "and now humans will signal luren s.p.a.ce. Even if you misdirect the message, someone will hear it, eventually. Luren will find Earth. It's all over, t.i.tus. There's no point in you and I opposing one another over an obscure philosophical point."

It sounded so reasonable, and Abbot wasn't even driving his words with Influence. Doggedly, t.i.tus repeated the Residents' argument. "Without your SOS, it could take centuries for them to find us. By then, humans may be able to defend themselves."

"Never effectively," replied Abbot. He glanced at the human who'd been sick. "They've no natural defenses against us. Are their genes going to change in a century or two?"

t.i.tus's faith in humanity, which had sounded so practical in meeting rooms on Earth, seemed a feeble argument now.

"t.i.tus, with your greatest effort, you have not managed to strike a blow against my mission-but only against our Blood. I'll fabricate another targeting device, but it won't fit as neatly. Your destruction has increased the chance that the human inspectors will discover my device. And if they do, and if they discover that my message is not in any human language, what will they think?

"If humans discover us before rescue arrives, they'll slaughter us-just as they did in Transylvania." Abbot's genuine anguish echoed off the hard walls. "We're so close to going home, safe, and you have to do this!"

Shame overcame t.i.tus and he could summon no answer.

The paging speaker interrupted, a pleasant woman's voice urging, "Dr. Nandoha, Dr. Abbot Nandoha, please report to medical. Dr. Nandoha, to medical immediately."

Abruptly, Abbot was gone, the outer door closing softly behind him. t.i.tus leaned on the stall door, shaking.

Two hours later, all the scientists had been processed through medical and a.s.sembled in the moons.h.i.+p lounge to await boarding of the orbit-jumper Barnaby Peter.

Mirelle had gathered her poker players around one end of the bar. Behind the bar a huge screen, clear as an open window, displayed an exterior view of Barnaby Peter.

t.i.tus played with the bulb of Rum Collins he'd ordered for appearance's sake and gazed into the depths of s.p.a.ce. Inwardly, he was drained. His best effort would not prevent the Tourists from bringing a ravening horde of luren to Earth, a horde that would devour the only home he'd ever known, and crush him under their heels because he was no more luren than the humans they would feed on.

"t.i.tus, pay attention!" Mirelle nudged up to his side and waved an open hand in front of his eyes. "I said we're settling up now. Are you ready to work the Varian?"

He had been only peripherally aware of them playing with the instruments. He fished the Varian out of his jacket and laid it on the bar. Negligently, he poked keys and it responded with a syncopated "Jingle Bells." Mirelle laughed, delighted, but t.i.tus could summon no response within himself.

He touched her hand, drinking in her warmth and that intangible life which was the component of blood that could not be synthesized. He began to thaw inwardly, to recall how precious a human could be, and the real reason he was here, fighting a battle he couldn't win. However small, the chance of winning was worth his life. Humanity was worth it.

"Well, then, here you are," said Abner Gold as he slid the Bell 990 over to t.i.tus. "Took me eight tries to work yours, though. Forgot the quotation marks and kept getting the Southern Cross instead of the Big Dipper." He glanced at Abbot and added jocularly, "The embarra.s.sing part is that I couldn't see the difference!"

Mirelle laughed at the strained joke, her voice ringing through Abbot's glum silence as he nursed a Screwdriver he had no intention of drinking. Looking past Abbot, t.i.tus saw Mihelich watching the bet-settling ceremony with more than pa.s.sing interest. As their eyes met, Mihelich turned away as if he hadn't been watching them at all.

Mirelle said, "Okay, Abbot. Can you work my custom?"

With a slow smile, he poked at the controls, producing the Rosetta stone closeup she had shown them. Then he tapped another command. The image rotated. "Good enough?"

Abbot seemed genuinely amused by the human game. t.i.tus marveled as he returned the Varian, sans its most vital component. But as Abbot accepted the gutted instrument, his eyes lingered on Mirelle, then measured t.i.tus.

Self-consciously, t.i.tus moved away from her. "Mirelle, let's see what you can do with Abner's Alter."