I loved the beautiful dark emptiness of space, but I hated business travel. I especially hated business travel to Toshiba Station. It was the only place for a gazillion sectors where a junk freighter or cheap transport could re-fuel, and the local port authorities didn’t miss a trick. All vessels had to be completely empty for at least one twenty-four hour period, no exceptions. It meant the hotels in Toshiba did great business.
The penalty for staying behind was more than it was worth, so vessel captains cleaned house at Toshiba, shooing everyone out for a night.
Don’t get me wrong – Toshiba boasts one of the best tourist compounds in this system, with gambling, human and non-human company, the intoxicating drinks and drugs of hundreds of worlds and pretty much anything else you might want to occupy your time off ship. Most travelers looked forward to a Toshiba layover.
But not me.
I liked my own sleeping quarters, and carried a special bed with me. It was the only way I felt really safe as I slept. I know, paranoia, but I’d been around for a while and I intended to keep it that way.
The trouble is that hotel rooms in Toshiba – or almost anywhere, for that matter – are modeled on the Japanese minitels of the early 21st century. Honeycombs of compartments just big enough to slide into feet first, there’s no room for my special bed in any of them. And I didn’t want to ever draw attention to myself by demanding something larger, something different. It was easier to just to avoid the whole situation.
Only this time I had no choice. Anyone else who could have made the trip was already booked up, and even in the company I worked for, Amalgamated Assurances, I didn’t want to make a fuss or cause a stir. I accepted the assignment with a shudder.
I could have walked around for the required twenty-four hours, but Toshiba had two suns. I hate double suns. And the night on Toshiba was only about four hours because the suns were staggered in the sky. I really didn’t have any other option.
I checked into the Toshiba Marriott and got my key. I hurried to my section and climbed the side ladder up to my own room. The door was open, so I swung myself into the cylindrical space, slid down on the wheeled tray, and pulled the hatch closed after me. The gasket sealed and the inner air conditioning started to hiss. A vidscreen winked on at my feet and I tried to get comfortable.
The interior walls seemed to go transparent giving the illusion of sleeping in a star-covered grassy field. I closed my eyes, but the grassy field felt so unprotected. I gave the vidscreen a voice command and the grassy field changed to a mid-twentieth century child’s bedroom. I commanded again and the view changed into plain darkness.
Plain darkness was closer to what I liked, so I tried to sleep. But the room didn’t smell right to me and my sleep was fitful and full of bad dreams.
“He’s here,” the woman said. Her eyes were glowing red, her hair black and unruly and a strange piece of heavy silver hung at her throat.
The man said nothing. He fastened a shaft to an old-fashioned weapon.
“This one is very old, Jonathan. I don’t think I have ever found one this old before.”
“I wish there was some other way,” Jonathan said. “So much knowledge, so much experience.” He sighed.
“You know there isn’t,” she said sharply. “Are you up to this or not?”
Jonathan shot her a distasteful look. He had to work with Mina, but he didn’t have to like her.
“Let’s do it.”
Mina yanked the octagonal door open, then pulled the tray out. Jonathan pressed the release on his weapon and a single shaft of wood shot out at high speed, burying itself in the black robes of the creature as it struggled to wake.
Damn, I thought as I realized too late what was happening. The woman held her crucifix aloft, but I had to smile at that. Didn’t she know it had no power over me?
But the wooden stake, that was a different story. The man who killed me had regret in his eyes, I am sure of it. If I had been allowed a moment, I could have turned him from his task.
It was too late. I felt no pain, but twitched and groaned aloud in frustration. It took a few minutes, my constitution was old and strong. If I had been on my own bed of dirt not even a stake made of wood from the Earth itself would have harmed me.
Toshiba Station. What would become of my bed of dirt? I had roamed Earth and space for centuries, unnoticed, nearly invisible. I had ceased to be a nuisance to them long ago, but they never realized it. I may even be the last, I don’t know.
Kate Thornton has over 50 short stories in publication. She has previously been published in such diverse venues as Flashing in the Gutters, Woman’s World, Aphelion, The Curve Ball Conspiracy and The Spiral Sea, among others. You can find Kate at her website.
Very nice piece, Kate. Jeez, is there anything you can’t do?