Free Amish Vampires in Space by Kerry Nietz Page A

hall was cheerless: white, with an occasional yellow directional arrow to break up the monotony. He turned right, following the arrows toward the nearest slide entry point. He had almost reached it when an intern hustled up behind him.
    “Sir, I have a duty roster for you to look over.” The intern was short, male, and wearing a uniform that looked like it had just come out of the wrapper.
    In general, Greels loathed the type. “It isn’t important now,” he said. “I’ll look at it later.”
    “But sir—”
    Greels waved and purposely turned his back, heading in the direction he wanted to go. He knew the intern was still there though, doubtless with a surprised look on his face. “Not important,” he repeated, without looking back. Greels smiled and continued his walk.
    Let the intern find one of the assistants.
    A few minutes later Greels reached the entrance to the feeder slideway, and rode it from his lower level office to one of the primary slideways. From there he rode past first one bay and then another. He felt a certain bit of pride as he surveyed the completed bays. Aside from the automated slide loading, filling a bay to capacity was still a lot of work for his team. Especially given all the guaranteed breaks and shift changes. It was a constant fight against distraction for most of them.
    Then there were the leeches like Congi. Always adding to the spoilage and loss.
    I should just report the mooch and get him reassigned. Make him someone else’s problem.
    Finders like that always had connections higher up, though. Better just to ignore them. Let them get their small pickings. At least Congi was fairly discrete about it. Plus, occasionally he threw bones Greels’s way. Usually when Greels really needed it. That wasn’t altogether bad.
    He saw the signs for Bay 16 ahead.
    It was late, close to midnight by ship’s time. He should be off duty. Getting cleaned up and going to sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy, busy day. His quarters were on the opposite side of the ship, in the section reserved for the loading pool. Not with the other group supervisors near the front of the ship, but in back with the losers and the rowdies. He hated that too. The place smelled of safesmoke and free-alch. And whatever synthetic recreation the consumer splice groups had designed lately.
    The exit for Bay 16 was just ahead now. Greels frowned as the slide started to slow. Then the walls became solid. The overhead sign indicated that this was the stop for Bays 14 and 16. Greels set his gaze ahead, decided not to look at the actual landing as he slid slowly by. Maybe that would help.
    It didn’t, though. He had slid only a few paces past when he found himself backpedaling against the slide’s motion and stepping onto the landing itself. He frowned as he took the stairs from the landing down to the Bay 16 floor. He shouldn’t be here. He should be on his way to his quarters.
    But inside there was a tingle of expectancy. A thrill of the moment. Of the strangeness and hazards of it. A need that he never knew he had. Until now. Until this trip.
    He reached the entrance to the bay. It was completely silent and empty. Just the locked sliding door. The bay itself should be silent too. Silent and dark. Greels took out his passkey and slid it into the verification device. Somewhere, that use would be noted, he knew. Logged and stored. Loading supervisors didn’t need excuses for entering a bay, though. If he had lesser rank, maybe. But not him. It was his job to verify that loads stayed intact. Whenever and wherever he wanted.
    He still felt a twinge of guilt when the door slid open. Guilt and excitement.
    The lights inside were dim, as they should be. The handplate for those were to his left by the door. He adjusted the lights up to half potential, frowned at how dim it still seemed, and adjusted them up again.
    The stacks of packages were before him. White, pristine—reminded him of childhood winters on Betalus. How strange that