Space is dangerous enough place without Vampires.
Garbazhio and his friend Scruta are imprisoned in an asylum. The Elvish Houses intend to rehabilitate their sinful Vampiric sides. After a month’s torture, their corrupt houses have sold them as slaves to mine silver on the cold side of Mercury. While transferred on a spaceship, the crew has died from a disease, and Scruta and Garbazhio escape imprisonment.
They discover fellow victims on the ship. Chorn is a family nemesis, angry at the Weists. His anger transfers to Garbazhio, the only Weist representative in earshot. Glasses is a goofy tailor with a single word vocabulary. Firryashis is a “big boned” Ogre with a fanaticism for Hawaiian shirts. Reese Icker is a quirky Griffin who dabbles in electronics.
Then there are the Maiden Sisters; three witches that conjure spells and prophecies for them all.
There are many obstacles to their freedom. Dwarf miners pirating their ship and goods. Jolly wants them as slaves in his Mercury mines. The noble houses want them disappeared forever so the Vampires would cause no more trouble on Earth. Martians want them all dead. The ship is a maze and puzzle for them to understand. None of these Vampires are space literate.
They must overcome these obstacles to free the slaves.
With Vampires in space, be afraid; be very afraid.
This book is intended for adults only: it contains violence, blood, language, sex, nudity and very adult situations.
We prepared for battle. Our troop of Vampires huddled near the only spot where the Dwarves could gangplank onto our ship, on the back half of the starboard. The other parts of our spaceship was cluttered with trusses and thickened with pipelines. The starboard hatch was the only possible entry point. It wasn’t likely that we were going to open the door for them so the Dwarves prepped to cut their way inside. Besides, we needed the extra time to prepare for close quarters combat.
First thing, we ran around the room, flipping off light switches. Darkness was an ally for us. Even if our night vision was limited, once we fed, it should return and give us a clear advantage. It took us awhile to determine which switches controlled the lights. We flipped one after another. Some lights flickered off, and other switches turned on fans. Another switch made the spaceship gurgle. We avoided that one. Other switches were a mystery to us. They didn’t seem to do anything. Later on, I learned that they operated the outside lights. The Dwarves must have seen quite a light show.
I had found a long sheet of metal to serve as a sword. I wrapped a rag around its end to act as a hilt. Strangely, I missed my cheap sword, a simple twenty dollar katana from a pawn shop. Many of my things were most likely gone, scavenged, stolen or otherwise. I hoped that our next destination would lead to cheap swords.
Glasses was armed with spatulas, ladles and pans. While he waited, he picked raisins and nuts from his glasses and nibbled away. His gleeful expression had not changed since his release; maybe he was a little more excited about the battle, but still the same.
Firryashis created a club out of a vase and plunger stick. She wrapped the vase onto the stick with duck tape and then glued glass shards around the top. Her nose flared as she anticipated the battle. Her vampire glare was harsher than the others. She wished to enact some revenge against somebody after so many months of torture.
Chorn was more clever; he inserted a pipe and tube into a gas tank to assembled an improvised flamethrower. On occasion I caught an angry glare from him. He was not content with me giving orders. He wanted revenge against my family and could not see my as anything but an extension of my corrupt family. It made no difference that I placed myself into self-exile or that I was also thrown into the asylum.
Reese improvised stun guns onto his arms, able to shoot electric bolts on a narrow trajectory. At close range, he was deadly. His face brandished a sinister smile anticipating a face to face conflict. He checked and double-checked his equipment while still carrying the hot soldering gun on his belt, just incase he needed to improvise something else.
Scruta poised with outstretched hands to attack with magic. We were all weary; I was surprised that Scruta had any magical charge left in his body. The magic drained him faster than workout at a gym. With his Vampirism and a lack of blood, I was surprised that he could still sustain the magic. He had an impressive resilience.
We heard the clanks and thuds of the gangplank connecting to our hull. The outer door swished open and the grumbling of heavy Dwarf voices boomed against the skin of the inner door. They seemed to argue for several minutes before someone commanded them. The voices grumbled to a murmur before the sizzle of a torch sparked. They cut for several seconds before someone argued a point. The sizzle stopped and then the Dwarves grumbled in argument again.
We looked to each other, poised for battle but annoyed with the Dwarves’ inability to agree with how to board us. Our zealous anticipation for battle and blood was drowned in frustration and annoyance. My hand was shaking. The lack of blood was starting to tax my body. I had to concentrate to keep my brain from getting fuzzy like I was spun around the room too many times.
The sizzle stopped again and the Dwarves argued. Between the torch’s heat and space’s cold, the door’s metal disagreed with the extreme temperatures; the door warped, bending inwards. With the small gap in the door, we could distinguish the voices arguing.
“You can’t open the door like that. It will never be closed,” one Dwarf said.
“There are other entrances. We’ll seal this one up and use the others to secure the vessel,” another Dwarf explained.
“What other entrances? I saw nothing on the reports.”
“Well, I didn’t read those reports.”
“We can always make new doorways.”
“We aren’t going to spend all day renovating the ship. The Captain wants the goods and then haul the vessel to the junk dealers for scrap.”
I whispered to Reese, “Business must be bad.” Reese shrugged in agreement.
The torch continued as the Dwarves argued. Finally the door collapsed from the wall with a thud. We poised for battle.
The first Dwarf announced, “It’s dark!”
“Maybe they are gone,” the second Dwarf thought.
“No one’s gone!” demanded the Dwarf that I presumed was the leader. After that comment, he stomped his feet and chanted in rhythm, “Hump, hump, hump. Ho, Ho, ho hump.”
The other Dwarves chanted in sync, and then the entire gangplank was filled with the noise of Dwarves reviving their zeal to battle. After a minute of coaxing their spirits, they sang in unison, “Yo ho! Privateering we go. We siphon the gas. And bite the crews’ ass. We steal the gold. And then the vessel is sold. Yo ho, yo ho! Let the pirating begin.”
The first ten Dwarves were suckled dry, before they barely placed two steps onto our deck. The smell of their blood was too much for any of us. We pounced quickly onto their bodies. We let their bodies limp to the ground as we glared at the other Dwarves still standing on the gangplank. They could distinguish little from the darkness, except our glowering eyes, their fallen comrades and the snarls of happily feasted Vampires.
The other Dwarves stared and stay stunned for long moments. Then their leader coaxed them into battle, “Hump, hump, yo ho!” The Dwarves charged ahead. The new song was, “Yo ho. Off to dampen the enemy we go. Let them break. And let them fall. For all our sakes. Their death will be swift. Or not at all. With our mighty gift, we shall brawl.”
Between reprises, Bobby sang, “Glasses, glasses, I need more glasses.” I saw Scruta smile after Bobby’s response to their songs. The Perculian Human tossed ice balls at the enemy like a baseball pitcher. He had a good arm. The ice balls were spiked with icicles so when ice impacted the Dwarf, the icicles speared into nearby Dwarves to increase collateral damage.
This battle reminded me of a joke. So, a Dwarf walked into a bar and said to the bartender, “Bartender, give me a drink!” The bartender shook his head and replied, “Can’t you read the sign. I’m sorry but we don’t serve Dwarves in here.” The Dwarf left the bar and then snapped his fingers. He decided to disguise himself. So he shaved his beard and threw away his pickaxe. He returned to the bar and said, “Bartender, give me a drink.” The bartender eyed the Dwarf and said, “Aren’t you the Dwarf that just came in here?” The Dwarf responded, “Now, do you think I would be stupid enough to return after you threw me out?” The bartender remarked, “Don’t get short with me!”
We sucked our fill of Dwarves and then battled the remaining infiltrators with our improvised weapons. Chorn incinerated the next wave of Dwarves. Reese cleaned up the rest with bolts of lightning. Another song was chanted as we battled away. “Yo ho. They fight brave. They fight naïve. But they cannot break or dampen the wave. Dwarves are mighty and we are skilled. We love to fight with axes and picks.”
“Glasses, glasses, they can’t find their glasses.”
There were hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. There were too many to feed on. I could tell that the diets of the Dwarves were mostly corn, much like a cow. Chorn ran out of gas for his flame thrower and wielded an axe that he found in the mess of bodies. Reese Icker’s stun guns ran out of juice and found a pipe to knock at their heads. We were battling against wave after wave of Dwarves chanting ridiculous sea shanties. Battle was cruel enough torture without the singing. Every time I heard a “Yo ho,” it made me angrier, wanting to slice and dice with greater violence. I slashed away at their bearded heads with a terrifying violence. Our snarling and bloody faces did not scare a hesitant pause in their maddened charges. They fought ferociously, one after another falling at our feet.
by Jax E. Garson
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