The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Chapter Two





Timothy Summers slept well in his pod, inside the Wynham Towers on the second level until 2 a.m. when he woke sweating.



He dreamed rarely, but had.



At first his dreams honoured his relationship with Captain Tolliver, as he had recalled how the man had introduced him to his first real woman, in a small bar on Wykham’s World, one of the planets near the Outer Ridge. Then his dreams had taken a different turn, as he had pictured the incident that had nearly killed him, as he’d been caught in the engineering section, with the main propulsion unit on fire.



At the last minute the Captain had run through the flames, to the corner of the room where Timothy had been trapped and thrown a protective sheet over them both, before racing out of Engineering…



Then Timothy woke to the sound of the door comm. Buzzing loudly.



As he wiped the sweat from his forehead Timothy realised the beeping he’d heard throughout his dream was still ongoing. ‘Ah, the Comms…’ he realised.



“Lights,” he called and, as the room suffused with the dim white light associated with the second level, Timothy thought back to his Captain’s words: ‘Well, I opened my right eye first,’ he thought, calling out; “Who’s there?”



Timothy Summer sat up, the sheet falling from his lean, lightly hirsute torso. He swung his legs round placing his feet to the bare plasteen floor, banging his head, as he stood out of the sleeping alcove of his podroom.



As he winced at the pain, a banging started on his door.



“Comms open!” He called out.

Groaning and rubbing his head, Timothy pressed the button on the panel to the right or the pod’s door, opening the comms audio, as it seemed that the voice-pick-up was not working.



“Who’s there?” He called, again.



“City security citizen,” he heard a woman bellow into the door’s comm.: “Open up, your presence is needed at the station, now…”



He pulled on his trousers, as the banging on the door continued.



“She sounds quite insistent,” the young man muttered, a moment before calling out, “Door!”

Wear The Mantle





Chapter One





An off-worlder, Timothy Summers had not earned the nickname, he would be known by in more than galaxy and more than the one known universe. For now, he was the second-officer on an old starship, a Roddenbury class freighter.



Summer dressed smartly, taking pride in the uniform he’d been issued, to the extent that after nine months in space, he still polished his buttons and took great pride in a distinct sheen to his black boots.



“…interesting that we open one eye before. In fact I’m sure its been proven that we can’t open them both when we wake up…”



The Captain was rambling again, Timothy mused with a sigh.



James Tolliver The Captain sat to his left. He was a seasoned spacer and near retirement. And, in the time that he’d known him, Timothy had grown to love the man, almost as though he were the father he’d lost, all those years ago.



Flicking at switches above his head, he muttered, “Uh-huh.” Timothy had heard many of the captains stories before, yet did not mind. He always listened, or seemed to, ‘after all,’ he mused, ‘not only has he earned my respect through his experience and knowledge and…’ The captain had saved his life three times, during their journey.



The shut-down procedures were not onerous and Timothy Summer did not need assistance, but he liked his companions company and would often listen, rapt to the older man’s stories, as he spoke of the days of early colonization.



James Tolliver was no great fan of The Empire, The Federation, or any of the mighty conglomerates who had powered the early second wave of colonists, many of whom died at the hands of the many enemies man many in those early days.



“If they’d listened to my parent at the time, none of them deaths would have happened,” he’d told the young man several times, always over a good whiskey and, each time more angry than the last.



Greed had driven the many multi-national companies that had financed the second wave, once they had learnt of the vast amount of minerals to be found ‘out there’; it had mattered not to them that there’d been indigenous peoples living on the planets already explored.



There was more to be found and, they would find it.



Conscience mattered not to these statesmen of commerce and Captain Tolliver’s parents had suffered in the retribution that followed the second wave of colonists.



He held a grudge, which his young protégée could well understand and admired the man, who was the closest thing he had to kin, after losing his own parents.



Furthermore, when he’d just left training, it had been Tolliver who had given his his first job, giving him a chance when so many others would not, because of his lack of flight-time.

“Okay Sir,” he began, turning toward His Captain, “all systems shut-down safely. Cargoes ready to unload…”



Captain Tolliver sat back in his chair, tilted back his cream-coloured Stetson off his forehead. His boot heels were resting on the edge of the console and he stared past his light-brown cowboy boots toes, to the old battered postcard that sat ahead of him, against the main window, through which he’d could see nothing as the shield were still down. He wore his long, long-draping fawn-coloured leather coat, shirtless as usual, as he liked the feel of the rough leather against his naked flesh. To enhance his peccadillo, he shaved from his nipple line, down to his waist, going inward, at the end of his ribs, tapering in and ending at the waistband of his well-worn blue-jeans



He slowly removed the toothpick from between his lips, then muttered, “I swear down, one day I’ll get there…” ‘There’ was Hawaii, a country the spacer had wanted to visit since being a child.



Timothy was loathe to remind him that Hawaii had drowned over a century earlier, yet than man was in his hundred and tenth year, so was entitled to a few dreams.



Retirement was a hundred and twenty and, there were some that suggested it should be a hundred and fifty, as some were now living into their two hundredth year and beyond. Though they were few and, the spacers were a breed apart themselves.



The children born of spacers could have a life-expectancy of up to two hundred years, without the many augmentations that the rich could afford which had been explained by Time-delineation effect upon the newborne in space.



Second generation spacers like Timothy Summer were viewed as different from ‘the rest’ and treated as badly by the many, as were men and women of The Brood, the artificial constructs in humanoid form, designed to perform menial tasks for the elite of society and the many companies who found them ‘useful’.



Yet, Captain Summer had given the young man a chance when he needed it and he appreciated it, greatly.



Timothy looked to his companion and then smiling he asked, “So what are you doing, your first night back?”



The older man grinned back, “With a wife of fifty and eight kids, I’ll take my time shutting The Forest down, find that malt that I stashed in the office and enjoy a glass or three, before a taxi home…”



James Tolliver patted the console before him, “But gotta get this baby to bed before then…”



The Forest was one of several ships waiting to be unloaded, due to manning shortages of the carousel that provided connectivity between each ship, ensconced within the vast docking station, built off the shore of Olde Britain.



Tolliver turned to the young man, who was still following the many routines and sub-routines associated with planetfall: “Look, the ships gonna be waitin awhile to be unloaded and, I’m in no hurry, so…”



The Captain looked over his right shoulder, toward the small raised circular dias, inset a small alcove in the ship’s lounge area.



“Why don’t you use the transmat, get home and grab some shuteye? Or, you could always do what I’d have done at your age…”



“I’m not doing jail-time,” Summers muttered, a grin spreading across his face as he took his place on the small platform, “I’m going home to bed…”



James Tolliver reached for a switch and engaged the transmat, “C’ya kid…”