Teams: A Terran Empire story

  Produced by Al Haines

  +------------------------------------------------------+ | This work is licenced under a Creative Commons | | Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 | | Licence. | | | | https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ | +------------------------------------------------------+

  TEAMS

  A Terran Empire story

  by Ann Wilson

  Copyright (C) 1992 by Ann Wilson

  Narvon III, 2277 CE

  Marine Captain Jase Thompson enjoyed Evaluation Team duty, and thisparticular assignment appealed to what his team members called hiswarped sense of humor. This had started out as an odd one; it was theArchbishop of Narvon III, rather than its Baron or the System Count,who had pushed the panic button. He'd appealed to the Emperor for abattle fleet, with a full complement of Security and Combat DivisionMarines, claiming civil war was breaking out because of something thatwas turning Narvon System's "best people" into "bloodsucking servantsof the Devil."

  Captain Thompson had no idea what His Majesty thought about thesituation, but he was skeptical, himself. Still, no one asked for thatsort of intervention without some reason; it was up to the E-Team tofind out whether the reason was valid, and if so what degree ofintervention was really justified. He certainly didn't want to call ina fleet--no E-Team leader did--but he would if he had to. Then he'dhope that the Ranger or Fleet Admiral in charge overruled him; hedidn't like thinking what military occupation could do to the occupiedsystem. Not that the situation was likely to be that bad.

  Thompson sighed, checking the clock and deciding he'd better get backto the bridge; the Koslov's Captain--Navy Lieutenant Inga Sanchez--should have the pre-landing surveillance reports for him by now.

  She gave him a rueful shake of the head as he entered her small bridge."It's peaceful as Terra down there, Jase. No trace of active weaponry,no civil disturbances our sensors can detect, no fires involvingartificial substances--no nothing."

  Thompson grinned. "Sounds good to me, Inga. What about news reports,entertainment broadcasts, that sort of thing?"

  Sanchez grinned back. "Just as normal, except for a couple ofoddities. The holos aren't carrying any 'casts of contact sports, andon a talk show, one of the guests had fangs; the others were acting alittle nervous, but she was telling them how harmless she and the other`Kins of the Dragon' really were." Sanchez touched a control on the armof her command chair. "Watch."

  The Captain's monitor screen lit up to show several people seated in agroup of comfortable-looking chairs around a low table, and Thompsonrepressed a chuckle. Talk shows seemed to be the same everywhere, hethought--then one of the guests caught his attention. She wasattractive, wearing the uniform of a System Security officer--Chief ofDetectives, from her badge--except that she was more than slim, shelooked damned near starved.

  "How do you feel about the Kins who were killed, Chief Kaufman, andwhat do you plan to do with the ones who killed them?" a man--Thompsonguessed him to be the show's host--asked.

  The woman shrugged slightly. "My personal feelings have no bearing; Iplan to deal with them as I would with any other murderers, how else?I am an officer of the law."

  "You don't have any desire for revenge? After all, the killings wererather . . . unpleasant."

  The detective chief grimaced. "Yes, they were. But I can't takerevenge, any more than I can feed on someone who doesn't want me to--itshould be common knowledge by now that Kins feel any pain wedeliberately inflict."

  "But you can feed on someone who's not willing, or kill; Kins have doneit."

  "We can, yes; I've killed in the line of duty since I became a Kin,which was bearable because I knew that not killing would cause moreharm later. And I did try to feed on someone who didn't want me,once--I suppose most Kins have--but I'd rather starve into coma than trythat again. Thank the Prince I didn't really hurt him, but I did feelevery bit of his terror."

  "Looks like she's doing just that, too," Thompson commented. It didn'tlook like much intervention, if any at all, would be needed--not withthe `servants of the Devil' appearing on talk shows trying to reassurepeople and looking like death warmed over. "What the hell do they dofor food, then?"

  Sanchez advanced the recording, then started playing it again."--willing Donors," the detective chief was saying. "We feel pain weinflict deliberately, yes--but we can also project feelings. Ifsomebody's willing to feed me, I can let . . . feel thesatisfaction--even, if @'s willing enough, the ecstasy--I do when Ifeed. And I certainly wouldn't take enough to hurt, or even toweaken, . . .!"

  Sanchez shut off the recording. "You know, I believe her."

  "So do I," Thompson said thoughtfully. "I do still have toinvestigate, of course, but I'd say from this that there's no crisisbig enough to call in even a squadron for."

  * * * * *

  The E-Team's landing wasn't the covert operation Thompson hadoriginally planned; instead, the Koslov called for clearance, and theylanded at the main spaceport, where Thompson and his team disembarkedin full uniform, complete with sidearms. He didn't particularly likeweapons, but procedure called for E-Teams to carry them unless doing sowould be more dangerous than not, which didn't seem to be the casehere.

  Landing openly, even an E-Team had to go through Customs and Health,which was routine enough until a tech told Thompson that he neededblood samples to test for susceptibility to the nosferatu pseudo-virus.

  "What's that?" Thompson asked.

  "What makes humans into Kins," the tech said, sounding as if he weretelling them something they should already know. "If you'resusceptible, and if the virus gets into your bloodstream, and ifsomething seriously weakens your system more than twenty-four standardhours later, you turn into a Kin. The Count's orders are that anyonefrom out-system be tested and warned, so if they are susceptible, theycan leave before exposure is possible." The tech shrugged. "Odds arenone of you will be, though; no one I've tested has been, and so far itlooks like only one percent--maybe less--are."

  "We all have full-spectrum immunizations," Thompson pointed out.

  "I know. But the pseudo-virus isn't one of the things full-spectrumworks against."

  "Okay." Thompson extended his arm and let the tech take his sample.When the rest of his team had followed suit, the tech sent them to awaiting room until the results were back, probably in less than anhour. Thompson posted the newest team member with their luggage, senthis second-in-command to a phone to make arrangements for them to bequartered in the System Palace, then told the rest to spread out andstart up conversations with the others in the room, all of whom lookedlike locals.

  Not that he really had to give them orders any more, he thought. Allexcept Corporal Nkomo--who'd replaced Corporal van Breda, killed on anearlier mission--had been with him for at least four years; they weremore of a family than a military unit, although they were careful tomaintain protocol with anyone else around. Thompson knew he had areputation for being overly concerned with his people's welfare,especially since he'd turned down promotion to stay with his team, buthe preferred being called a mother hen to taking command of a largerunit that would give him less personal satisfaction.

  While his people circulated, Thompson leafed through several of thenewsjournals that seemed to be an inevitable part of every waitingroom. He started with the oldest, published about six weeks ago,discovering that the Archbishop's basic facts were accurate. There hadbeen riots, all right, when some kind of laboratory accident andexplosion had released the pseudo-virus and created the first Kins ofthe Dragon. They'd called themselves that from the
very beginning, itseemed, which Thompson found intriguing--and it was discovered almostimmediately that they had to drink blood to survive. Preferably humanblood, taken directly from a donor's carotid, though they could managefor short times on packaged or even animal blood. Normal food madethem violently ill, and strong spices caused anaphylactic shock,usually fatal. To balance those limitations, they developed greatphysical strength and endurance, as well as the responsive andprojective forms of empathy the detective chief had mentioned.

  Unfortunately, the first reaction to the Kins had been horror.Thompson could understand that, though he didn't share it; psych testskept people who couldn't overcome such feelings