Free Amish Vampires in Space by Kerry Nietz

barely enough for us to handle the accidents of the crew. Clumsy loaders and—”
    “Hey!” Greels said. “We’ve had weeks without incident. Twenty two days, seven hours, to be precise—”
    “And in one day you brought us five,” Darly said. “Smashed hands and suit failures. We could barely handle—”
    Seal slammed both hands on the table. A double wave of ripples. “Enough,” he said. “We’re doing this, and we’re going to do it well.” He looked at the bottom left image. “Greels, prepare your men for whatever we might have to move. Every shuttle will need to be stripped and prepared to load these people and their animals and belongings. No complaints, no whining.” He shook a finger. “We finally have something to do. Your people should be happy.”
    Greels frowned but nodded his compliance.
    Seal looked at top right. “And Darly, you’ll be fine. We’ll take it as it comes. If we have to, we’ll convert a portion of one of the microbays into an extended facility for your use. You can conscript from the crew if you need to. We have lots of bored people in cubicles you can have.”
    Darly seemed to calm a bit. The vibrations stopped. She nodded finally.
    Fires, always fighting fires.
    Pilot Perth just looked amused. His hand was still at his chin, with a smile leaking through between spread fingers.
    “Do you have something to add, Perth?” Seal asked. “Any problem with the pickup?”
    Perth pursed his lips, shook his head. “Not at all, Captain.”
    Seal squinted. The pilot was thinking about something. Mulling it over. “So you’re okay?” he asked. “One of you two might get conscripted to medical.”
    Perth flipped his hand. “Been awhile since I wrapped a limb, but that’s fine.”
    “So what are you thinking about?”
    Perth shook his head. “Just trying to digest it all. So, these Amish are a cloistered, low tech people. Why would they be used to colonize planets? Wouldn’t that put them especially at risk? No blaster, no guns…” He turned up a hand. “No medical technology.”
    Seal shook his head. “I would think so. They’ve been used for colonies more than once, though.” A shrug. “Politics is beyond my station.”
    “If I may, Captain,” Singer said. “I think it makes good sense. A culture devoid of technology wouldn’t be able to use it as a crutch. I can’t imagine a better society to be dropped onto a newly terraformed planet than one who has so few dependencies. For instance, they would know how to build habitation from whatever materials they could find. Eke out an existence with the barest of requirements.”
    Perth nodded. “Yes, that may be so.”
    “You still look like you’re thinking about something, though,” Seal said.
    Perth brought his hand to his chin again. “Well, despite the cultural description, one thing is for certain.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Someone on that planet doesn’t fully share that view. Someone there activated the beacon that called us. So who is that?”
     
    • • •
     
    Seated at the small desk in his office, Greels watched as the images of the other three meeting participants winked out of existence: plip, plip, plip. He frowned, leaned back, and ran a hand through his greying hair. Exhaled loudly.
    Glad that’s over.
    His eyes searched the room. It was a small, dingy place, only a short slideway from both Bay 10 and Bay 12. The location was convenient for his work, as it was essentially in the middle of it all. Medical was close. But this was barely an office. Just four grey walls, a desk, and a floor-standing waste incinerator. His only wall decoration was a fading color map of the ship’s bay positions and the slideways that serviced them all. He didn’t even have a guest chair. No family photos.
    Why do I stay at this job?
    Greels rose from his desk and felt a wave of fatigue. He yawned, stretched, and attempted to shake it off. To no avail.
    He walked to the door and out into the narrow hall. The