by Roxie Ray
“Stake.” Ha. Maybe I can break off one of the chair legs, sharpen it into a stake, and drive it through his heart. That always works on vampires in the movies, right? Or hey, while I'm taking the chair apart, why not use two of the legs to make a cross? Maybe that will…
I froze.
Yes. That was it. That was perfect.
Not the stake or the cross, of course. Those wouldn't do any good, since I wasn't dealing with a vampire in the Earth sense of the word. No, the chair was the key. Because it wasn't fashioned out of some single, smooth piece of wood. Like most chairs on Earth, it was a collection of pieces (arms, legs, back) held together...by what? Nails? Screws? Bolts? Anything metal, anything that could be used on the lock?
Well, one way to find out.
I picked up the chair and smashed it against the stone floor as hard as I could, again and again, until the wood splintered and I could see the long, sharp, vaguely-grooved slivers of black metal that had been used to assemble it. Prying a couple of them loose with my bare hands wasn't easy – I got a few nasty splinters deep under my fingernails, which bled and hurt like hell – but I managed it just the same.
Great. Fantastic. Now the real fun could begin.
I held the slivers in my palm and bent down to examine the lock, peering into the keyhole. There wasn't much I could tell about it from the outside (God, what I wouldn't have given to have my old pen light from my tool belt so I could get a better look), but I figured no matter what planet I was on, all locks operated on the same basic principle: A metal component was moved into place so it could block the normal gears, levers, or whatever that allowed the knob to turn. Therefore, finding that component, and carefully moving it in the right direction, would be all it took to get the knob working again.
I carefully slid one of the slivers into the keyhole, feeling around with it. Sure enough, I could feel the gears that let the knob turn, and the levers that were holding them firmly. Unlike Earth locks, which mostly just relied on one blunt lever that lowered into place, this one seemed to have two sharp ones that hooked inward simultaneously.
Like Akzun's fangs, I thought, feeling goose bumps spread across my arms. It was damn hard to concentrate when all I could think about was how it would feel when those teeth plunged into my flesh like daggers, what it would be like to feel more and more of my blood pour down his throat with each hungry swallow…
Enough of that shit. Focus. You're the only one who can save yourself from that, and that won’t happen if you stand here letting your own fear consume you.
Okay, so there were two levers instead of one. I'd have to feel around for both of them at once and try to lift them simultaneously. Easier said than done, but I didn't have much choice unless I wanted to be a midnight snack for my host.
There wasn't enough room for me to jigger both slivers at once unless I could bend them both, so they'd branch in separate directions when inserted. I worked on the first one, trying to bend it with my fingers and ignoring the agony that stabbed at my injured nails. It was a stubborn little sucker (but then, what did I expect from space metals?), and for a terrible second, I thought it might break before it bent. But no, it finally gave with a tiny squeal. The second sliver was a bit easier to work with – thank Christ, because I wasn't sure my fingertips could take much more.
I hooked both slivers into the keyhole, rattling them around until I found the sharp points of the levers. I tried to lift them, but the one on the left slipped immediately.
“Fuck,” I murmured, inserting them again.
This time, when I pulled upward, I felt both of them start to move.
“Yes,” I whispered urgently, “that's right, you bastards, just a little higher...”
Thunk. They both slipped free, falling back into place.
“Oh, you little metal motherfuckers, come on, work with me here,” I grunted, frustrated.
The tiny fanged maw of the keyhole almost seemed to be laughing at me. In my mind, I could hear the voice of Count Von Count from the old Sesame Street show: “Vun, two, two failed attempts at escape, ah-ah-ahhh!”
“I'll never look at that stupid purple puppet the same way again,” I growled, putting the slivers back into the hole and twisting them gently.
Click: The slivers caught the levers.
Creak: They started to lift them. “Slowly,” I mumbled, “slowly, don't give in to the urge to rush, to push them harder out of panic, just take some deep breaths, Carly, take it nice and easy, that's right, keep your cool, or else they won't…”
Clack.
The metal panel shuddered, and I could feel the levers fall back into their recessed positions deep within the mechanism.
I grabbed the knob, and it turned easily.
“Damn, I'm good,” I hissed triumphantly, easing the door open and peering out cautiously. I almost expected sentries to be waiting outside for me, ready to rob me of my fleeting victory.
But no, the marble hallway was empty.
Excellent.
I pressed myself flat against the cold, smooth wall, inching down the corridor like I was in some kind of spy movie. I kept waiting for some hidden door to slide open, for a legion of caped alien vampires to come swarming out at me, grabbing me, biting me – but everything remained eerily silent.
As I edged my way down the hall, I saw a doorway leading to what looked like a master bedroom. His private chamber, probably. For a brief moment, I considered searching it for anything that might prove useful – specifically, a weapon of some kind that I could use to defend myself if necessary. But that would increase the risk of him coming back and finding me. Besides, what if I did find some kind of alien laser pistol or something? Would I even know how to use it? Or would I point it in the wrong direction, hit the wrong button, and fry myself to a crisp?
No. Concentrating on finding a way out – or at least getting a solid sense of my surroundings for a later escape attempt – seemed like the best approach.
At the far end of the hall, there was an archway leading into what looked like a luxurious sitting room. It was round, and the edges of the room were bathed in total darkness. The only source of illumination was a circular beam of light coming straight down from the high ceiling, directly over a table. In the center was a bowl of what looked like it might be food, but it was hard to tell. Shiny, lumpy, colorful things that may have been fruits? Smaller dry things dusted with a sweet-smelling, powdery white substance… nuts, maybe?
My stomach growled, and I realized it had been a full day since I'd last eaten – and quite a few days since I'd consumed anything palatable. At The Vein, Nos fed the slaves a single bowl of thin, oily broth each day, with fatty bits floating on the surface. It was awful, but it was just enough to keep us from starving to death. At one point, I think Nos giggled that the herbs in it were supposed to supplement Earthling blood somehow, to make our scents and heartbeats more enticing to the Valkred customers. But with his bad English, it was hard to say for sure.
I gently picked up one of the fruits, half-expecting it to sprout sharp thorns at being touched. But no. If anything, its pleasing smell seemed to increase tenfold – like fresh Honey Crisp apples in autumn, but with faintly tropical notes, as well, that reminded me of mangoes and pineapples. Holding it close to my nose, I could almost feel a refreshing breeze in my hair.
Suddenly, Akzun's voice cut into my reverie. “You may eat them, if you wish.”
I flinched, turning in the direction of the sound and staring into the gloom at the edge of the overhead light. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, and then I saw him: first the glimmer of his dark eyes in the shadows, and then the rest of him, sitting on a small stool and drinking a glass of red liquid.
“Why should I trust food from you?” I asked.
“Well, it's obviously not poisoned,” he replied, his deep, rich voice tinged with amusement. “If I'm planning to drink your blood, I can't very well poison it first, can I? That would be suicidal, and self-destruction is hardl
y in my nature… no matter what my advisors might think,” he added under his breath.
He spoke my language with a faint accent – I couldn't tell if he actually sounded Eastern European, or if my imagination was just playing tricks on me.
“Maybe it's something that's poisonous to my species, but not yours,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “That's a fair point. Then again, if I could drink your blood after you were dead, why wouldn't I have simply killed you by now?”
“Sadism?” I guessed.
He laughed loudly, setting his glass down on the floor and standing up. “Now you have confused me with my advisors. Torqa, anyway.”
I looked at the fruit again. “So you're just trying to fatten me up first, is that it?”
Akzun shrugged mildly. “I'll admit, the foods a creature consumes can affect the way they taste. And I can only imagine that the refreshments on that table are more appealing than whatever Nos provided for you. But if you don't want them…”
I wanted to look tough in front of him, but I couldn't resist anymore – I bit into the fruit, wiping the pinkish juice from my chin. It tasted even better than it smelled, better than anything I'd ever had on Earth. Among the lower classes where I'd come from, fruits were rare, and most of them were so genetically modified and over-treated with pesticides that they had little or no taste. Fresh fruits were a luxury that only the upper classes could afford.
Before I knew it, I'd demolished two of the fruits and scooped a handful of the oval legumes into my mouth. They were sticky and sweet, with a delicious smoky flavor that was almost addictive.
“So what's that you're drinking?” I asked around a mouthful of food, pointing to the glass on the floor. “I'm guessing it's blood?”
A faint grimace tugged at the corners of his lips. “In a manner of speaking. It's only 'blood' in the most technical sense – my people grow it in labs for mass production and consumption. It nourishes and sustains us, and it's far easier for us to acquire and store it than to keep accumulating, feeding, housing, and harvesting blood slaves.”
“Then why have blood slaves at all?”
“Because it's not the same. Ultimately, no matter how much of this artificial swill we drink, we still have a certain… hunger… that cannot be denied. Not every Valkredian can afford to keep blood slaves so they can indulge in the real thing. Thankfully, as Blood Ruler of my people, I enjoy that privilege.”
I thought about the fruit situation on Earth again. From the sound of things, it wasn't much different here. The poor got flavorless crap that's mass-produced from test tubes – just enough to keep them alive and working – while the rich got to enjoy tastier and more organic treats.
“How many blood slaves do you have?” I asked, picking up another fruit and taking a bite. If I was going to have my blood drained, I figured I may as well help myself to as much food as I could.
“Roughly a dozen, down in the dungeons. Enough to keep my guards and servants fed. Most of them are Mana prisoners of war. A couple of Krote as well.”
“No other humans?”
He shook his head. “Members of your race are too difficult and expensive to collect in great quantities. Your blood has a peculiarly succulent flavor. Among Valkredians, it's some of the most desirable in the galaxy, second only to Lunians… and we don't interfere with them, not under any circumstances.”
“Is that why you refused to wait for the auction? Why you paid so much for me?”
Akzun frowned, and I had the sense that I'd touched a nerve – that there was some other reason, one he didn't wish to share with me. One that, perhaps, he wasn't even comfortable admitting to himself.
“You ask many questions, Carly Love. I believe it is time for you to answer a few, instead. How did you come to be at The Vein?”
Now it was my turn to shrug. “Pretty standard alien abduction stuff, I guess. Walking home from my shift at the restaurant late at night, bright light in the sky, bam, whoosh, and I woke up wearing a stupid dress with this damn collar on my neck. Speaking of which, I don't suppose you could do something about that? It chafes like hell – and besides, you already bought me. You don't really need to keep the price tag on, do you?”
He took three long, gliding steps forward, hooking his thumb under the collar and pressing a hidden trigger. I was struck by how cold his fingers were, like living icicles.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“My pleasure,” he replied. “Naturally, I wish to make you as comfortable as possible. As for the dress Nos made you wear, I can't blame you for disliking it. It is rather tawdry, but then, his sort of advertising often is. What sort of raiment would you prefer?”
“Anything that's not a dress. I hate dresses. Men don't have to wear them, so why should I?”
Akzun nodded appreciatively. “I'm sure I can procure something you'd find more preferable.”
“Again, thank you.” The more time I spent with Akzun, the more unexpectedly reasonable he seemed. Charming, even, in a strange way.
“So tell me,” I said, “if you were in such a hurry to drink my blood that you spent a quarter of a million space-bucks on me, why haven't you done it yet?”
Akzun seemed momentarily taken aback, as though this question had disturbed him somehow. As he opened his mouth to answer, a tall, cadaverous-looking Valkred appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat.
“Yes, Dhako, what is it?” Akzun snapped impatiently.
“My deepest apologies for intruding, Blood Ruler,” Dhako said in a high, raspy voice. “But a report has just come in: The Mana flagship Aquavor was ambushed near the Stentillian Asteroid Belt. The vessel was destroyed. All aboard were killed.”
Akzun's eyes widened in shock. “Was M'ruvev on the ship when it…?”
“No, Blood Ruler. He's waiting to speak with you in the screen room now.” Dhako paused, then added, “The Aquavor appears to have been attacked by… by Valkred ships, sir.”
“By the stars,” Akzun breathed. “I'll be right there.” He turned to me. “Pardon me, Carly, but this matter requires my urgent attention. Please remain here. I shall return momentarily.”
And with that, he and Dhako left.
What the hell was going on?
6
Akzun
As I marched down to the screen room, my boots clicking sharply against the marble floors, I felt like everything stable and reliable in my life was being forcibly pulled out from under me.
How could this have happened?
Could it be that a sect of my own people was so unhappy with the treaty I'd negotiated that they'd decided to break it on their own? Did they really prefer more war and bloodshed to peace and prosperity?
I didn't know. But I knew that whatever had occurred, I'd have to root out the traitors and eliminate them fast – to convince the Mana that I was serious about the treaty before they chose to retaliate, and to prevent additional acts of defiance.
The guards on either side of the screen room entrance opened the doors, and I walked in, standing in front of the huge holo-screen. I took a deep breath and hit the button to accept transmission.
A projection of M'ruvev's bald head immediately filled half the room. His normally-bluish scales were pale pink with rage and grief. “Akzun, what the blazing hell have you done?”
“Calm yourself, M'ruvev. This attack was obviously carried out without my knowledge. Surely you are intelligent enough to realize that truth.”
“Calm myself?” M’ruvev sneered. “I just received word that over three dozen of your people were incinerated in an act of base treachery and cowardice, while they were on a peaceful mission to one of your outposts. Don’t you dare condescend to me.”
“I would reconsider your tone, M’ruvev,” I warned. “Have you already forgotten that we’re on the same side, now?”
“Damn you, Akzun, don't you see? That hardly matters! Either you're lying and you've chosen to break our treaty, or you can't control your own people! Whichever i
t is, you're putting me in a position of having to assume the peace we negotiated is null and void!”
“It doesn't have to be, old friend. We can still make our planets’ peace a reality. We must.”
“Don't you dare call me ‘old friend,’ not after this! Do you seriously believe that you're the only one dealing with factions on your own planet who didn't want this treaty? Who wanted to see this… senseless, interminable war play out, until one side or the other could claim a decisive victory? I've got dissenters in my own government stirring up riots in the wake of this tragedy, saying I was weak to seek a ceasefire with you, saying that I should be replaced by a leader who won't back down until every Valkred is enslaved or wiped out! How do you expect me to restore order on my end? What should I tell these people? That the Blood Ruler of the Valkred sits back and shrugs while his own warriors keep murdering Mana, and that I'm not willing to do anything about it?”
“You know me. You must know I would never order or condone such an assault. Agreeing to peace, only to carry out a sneak attack would be dishonorable. This is not the Valkredian way.”
“I did think I knew you. I was proud to believe that you and I had managed to rise above the war our people have been waging for far too long. That day that you rescued me from the Krote pirates – I never told you this, Akzun, but at that time in my life, it was impossible for me to believe in anything good or noble in this universe. My sons had been killed in the war, my wife… senselessly robbed and murdered by a narcotics dealer when she went to seek a remedy for her grief, any substance that would dull her pain. I had come to feel that there was no order, no justice, no higher purpose to be found anywhere. That for all of the technological advancements achieved by the galaxy's sentient beings, in the end, none of us would ever be more than mindless, greedy, scrabbling insects, eating and sleeping and shitting and fucking, acting purely out of self-preservation and gratification until we all inevitably died. That there was simply no meaning to anything.” He paused, wiping a tear from his bulging eye, then added in a choked voice: “I had seriously considered taking my own life that very day. Just… stepping into an airlock, hitting the release button, and swimming out as far into the cosmos as I could manage before decompression claimed me.”