First Contact #1

The Strigoi

Friday, October 1st, 3775

Captain Genevieve Boleyn sat across from Admiral Quin. The admiral was relaxed and held his coffee cup with his pinky extended in some ancient etiquette from over a thousand years before. He lay in his chair more than sitting there. Languid relaxed as if Genevieve were his best friend.

Captain Boleyn was grateful to him. She’d been his first officer seven years before. She was promoted to Captain of the Pioneer WH2010 when he advanced to the admiralty two years ago. Genevive sat perched on the seat’s edge, her toes hovering an inch above the floor.

“You’ll like Gordon, Gene. He’s levelheaded, a bit ... emotional, but you’ll drum that out of him,” Admiral Quin said.

“He’s not humorous, is he?”

“Not so much that’ll make you want to take a CPS or PPB and blow his head off.”

“Humor has its place, Leaf, but not on my bridge. I’m sorry, sir, I mean Admiral Quin.”

The admiral laughed; it was a relief to Quin that she could still let her guard down with him.

“As long as we’re alone, you can call me anything you want. I seem to remember asshole being used on more than one occasion.”

“Is there a way to lower this seat, sir?”

“Gene, sit back, relax, and enjoy your coffee. Can’t you do that?”

“Sir,” one eyebrow raised, a sly smile curled on her lips, “After nine and a half years, you have to ask a stupid question like that, asshole‽”

Admiral Quin laughed again, louder and with more enthusiasm. Genevieve Boleyn only smiled and sipped her coffee. She’d depart on her new assignment in two hours. Admiral Leaf Erickson Quin always enjoyed a tete-a-tete before she departed. He loved her like a daughter. He wondered how she felt about him.

“You’re Chief Medical Officer will need to continue to perform the duty as Chief Science Officer until I can arrange a replacement. I know, it’s the second trek in a row, but the last six months haven’t been that bad, have they?” Admiral Quin asked.

“Why is it so hard to find me a new Science Officer?”

“I guess it’s like men. All the good ones are taken.”

“Hardy, har, har, sir,” Genevieve said in a mock laugh. A mock was about as close to laughter as he’d heard from her.

“I swear, once I find one that’ll measure up, I’ll send him straight to you via WHD Shuttle.”

“I’m keeping the Wormhole-Drive shuttle when you do.”

“Good luck, but be careful. The Andromeda picked up the welcome from this world. They had been on a mapping mission for two years. When they used the wormhole comm link, I ordered them to return to Earth and not to contact the planet. The message was in perfect Alliance Standard language. I wanted the best Captain in the fleet for First Contact.”

The compliment went unacknowledged. This was quite typical of Boleyn.

“Them knowing our language is ... fortuitous ... but more than a shade suspicious.” Setting the coffee cup on the table beside her chair, she slid off the seat with grace and saluted her superior.

“Stop that,” he said.

Her eyebrow cocked once more, and the sly grin from before became a toothy smile, “Got ya!”

Standing on the teleport pad, Genevieve closed her eyes as soon as the tingling invaded her body. Boleyn hated teleportation. The hum followed on the heels of the tingle, and then nothing. It was, for an instant, as though she no longer existed. In less than a heartbeat, the hum returned, accompanied by the tingle, and both ended.

Genevieve opened her eyes.

“Commander Gordon, your commanding officer requests permission to come aboard her ship...”

“Permission granted, Madam Captain,” Gordon said, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“How quaint,” she said, clasping his hand. She squeezed hard and then released her grip. The strength in her tiny hands caught him off guard, and he flinched. As if not noticing his reaction, she turned her attention to the teleport officer. “Very smooth ride, POFC Micucci.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I’ll be on the bridge in one hour, Mister Gordon. Can you manage to have us out of the solar system by then?”

“Yes, Madam Captain.”

The hour passed slow as molasses for Gordon and seemed but a blink of an eye for Boleyn. Captain Boleyn’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as she surveyed the bridge. “Ensign Mann, enter the coordinates into the navigation system. Prepare the Wormhole Drive.”

The petite captain’s body tensed, coiled energy barely contained beneath her crisp uniform. She watched the helmswoman’s fingers dance across the console, inputting the critical data to propel them into the unknown.

“Wormhole-Drive spinning up, Captain,” Mann reported, her voice steady despite the moment’s gravity.

Boleyn nodded, a slight furrow creased her brow. “Time to full charge?”

“Less than a minute, Ma’am.”

The bridge fell silent, save for the low hum of machinery. Boleyn’s mind raced, considering possibilities and potential outcomes. Her fingers twitched, longing for action or something entirely different. Companionship beyond that which allowed.

“Drive at full capacity,” Mann announced.

Boleyn’s voice rang out, clear, commanding, “Open the wormhole ... Let our adventure commence.”

“Now leaving Orion Spur, Captain, estimated arrival, two seconds from—” Mann said, touching the wormhole engagement icon... “now.”

A blinding flash, a few milliseconds of impossible pressure, the craft lurched beyond the event horizon, then—

The wormhole opened thirty-seven thousand light years from Earth in the central area of the Milky Way’s Perseus Arm Spiral, and the Pioneer emerged. The wormhole collapsed as soon as they passed out of the same event horizon they entered into.

Genevieve Boleyn perched on the edge of the chair, the tips of her shoes dangled just above the deck. Her stomach lurched on entering the hole and continued until a few seconds after they exited. Her calm expression never wavered.

“We’ve emerged, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Barrett reported. “Wormhole has collapsed.”

“Captain, I’ve always wondered what happens if the hole breaks down before we exit?” Gordon asked.

“Nothing good,” the captain said.

Susan Mann’s eyes lit up. She knew the answer and thought how better to impress the new first officer and her new captain than to give Gordon a lesson.

“The travel is instantaneous, Mister Gordon, sir. However, should a ship try to follow, it might end up with half where we started and the other half right behind us. Or they could find themselves dead, and the ship ripped apart just past the event horizon, in the nothingness, which is nowhere and at no time, between points A and B.” Ensign Mann said.

“Unpleasant, either way,” Captain Boleyn said.

“Status report,” she said, her tone crisp and authoritative, and her words almost barked out rather than spoken. She carried the command responsibility on her tiny shoulders. A reminder of the crewmembers’ safety is foremost in her thoughts. Seconds ticked by, filled with the quiet beeps and whirs of the ship’s sensors.

“We’re receiving a transmission. It’s ... in Alliance Standard Language.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the bridge. Boleyn’s eyes narrowed. “On screen.”

The message flickered to life, a simple greeting of friendship. But how? How could an apparently pre-spaceflight civilization grasp their language? Mummers ran through the bridge of surprise and wonder.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this was expected. So, calm down,” Boleyn said.

Lieutenant Commander Piper Vanderhoff responded promptly, “FTL Drive in standby, captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”

Boleyn nodded curtly, her mind racing with possibilities.

“Helmswoman,” Boleyn said, “when you can, please, take me to that signal.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Light Factor Four, Miss Mann. We’ll be there before the end of Gama shift. Mister Allen lay in a course for the source of the message. Ensign Mann, would you please request Engineering to wind the FTL Hyperdrive.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn stood, moved a few feet forward, and cast her eyes on the vast expanse of stars visible on the viewer. The ship hummed with power. Its FTL-Drive system’s powering up growled low and spun to higher and higher pitches.

“Might I stay on duty until we arrive, Ma’am?”

“Yes, you may. But whatever shall the Gama shift helmsman do while you pilot the ship?”

“Play cribbage,” Mann said, and the bridge laughed. “Sorry, Captain.”

“You should be. This is no laughing matter, people. First Contact is a solemn occurrence. Now, be sharp. Commander Gordon, please contact Mister Hess and tell him to spend his shift on the simulator.”

“Yes, Madam Captain.”

Four hundred and seventy-two crew members occupied the ship. The captain knew every member’s name, rank, job, and face. Everyone was treated with the same respect, absent any perception she liked or disliked any of them.

And yet, every one of them would follow her orders, live and die under her command, because she was the best, and they understood she had their best interest in her mind and heart.

“Coffee, Captain,” a pretty and young yeoman asked. “I can whip it up quick as three shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Tea, Darjeeling, please. Do I need to say hot?”

“No, Captain, I know the drill.”

Captain Genevieve Boleyn rose, moved a few feet forward, with her eyes fixed on the vast expanse of stars visible displayed on the viewer. The ship shuddered as the FTL reactor charged.

“FTL Drive at full capacity, Captain. Hyper-scanners operational.”

Boleyn nodded curtly, her mind racing with possibilities. The weight of command pressed down on her, a constant reminder of the lives in her care.

“Helmswoman,” Boleyn said, “engage.”

“Aye-aye, ma Capitaine.”

“Alliance standard will do, Ensign Mann. But thank you for the pleasantry,” Genevieve Boleyn said, suppressing the urge to smile or sound friendly.

“Your tea, Ma’am.”

The craft moved into hyperspace. The captain settled on the edge of her command chair and sipped her tea. Genevieve was in her proper place, and all was right in the universe, at least for the moment. Well, if she could put her feet on the floor, everything would be right. Without moving her head, she snuck a peek at the empty science station and wondered what her lover was doing.

“We’ve barely scratched the surface of the Perseus Arm,” Genevieve Boleyn said under her breath as she sat the empty cup on the table beside her.

Boleyn’s fingers drummed against the arm of her chair. Patience had never been her strong suit. She craved action, contact, and the thrill of the unknown. And something else, something she dare not name in the company of others. Again, her eyes turned to the Science Officer station.

“Captain,” First Office Alastair Gordon approached, his tone friendly. “Perhaps we could discuss the mission parameters over a late dinner? I’ve some ideas I’d like to...”

“Not now, Commander,” Boleyn cut him off, her voice ice. “I’m needed right here, right now, on my bridge.”

Gordon’s face fell, but he retreated without argument. Boleyn felt a twinge of guilt, quickly suppressed. She couldn’t afford attachments, not here, not now. Why did Gordon feel the need to establish a rapport beyond professional association? Hadn’t he heard I’m a card-carrying lesbian?

As the stars streaked by, Boleyn’s thoughts drifted to her quarters, to the unofficial comm unit hidden there. Would there be a message waiting? The possibility sent a thrill through her, a hungry ache she couldn’t entirely ignore.

“Ma’am,” Vanderhoff’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Long-range scanners have detected the exact source of the transmission. I’ve sent those coordinates to the helm console.”

Boleyn leaned forward, her heart racing.

“Excellent, Vanderhoff. Miss Mann, take us there and let’s see who or what we have found. Increase speed to light factor six point five.”

As the crew bustled around her, Boleyn allowed herself a small, secret smile. The hunt was on, and she was ready for whatever the universe offered her.

Pioneer WH2010 dropped out of hyperspace, the FTL drive fell silent, and the STL Solaris Reactor Propulsion engine fired up at the instant the temporal stabilizer kicked in and prevented time from slowing down. The ship sliced through the void toward the solar system ahead of them at three-quarters of the speed of light.

The closer they got to the source of the friendship message, the slower their approach. The slower they moved, the less the temporal stabilizer had to adjust. It made a dull hum underneath the throbbing of STL engines. It was all a familiar background noise to the daily life on a starship.

Captain Genevieve Boleyn’s petite frame strained with anticipation as the Pioneer approached the alien world. The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing a swirling hazy orb.

Captain Boleyn sat, bird-like, her eyes darted, to-and-fro, from one bridge station to the next. Her eyes transfixed on the viewscreen as the planet came into better focus. Its surface was a patchwork of sickly greens, blues, and grays, like mottled flesh. Almost a Frankenstein globe sown together from bits and pieces of other worlds. But it wasn’t a hodgepodge of other worlds, but a world that had evolved utterly different from other worlds they’d visited.

Even the oceans appeared spotty, with open water here, swamps there, and rocky sholes breaking the expanses with uninhabitable ridge-like islands.

“Sensors detecting humanoid life forms,” Vanderhoff reported, her voice tinged with unease. “But there’s something ... off about their biosignatures.”

Boleyn’s jaw clenched. “Elaborate.”

“They appear humanoid, captain, but their cellular activity is ... unusual. Almost like—”

“Like what, Commander?” Boleyn snapped, her stellar, renowned impatience flaring.

Vanderhoff swallowed.

“Like they’re caught between life and death. This is my first, first contact, Captain,” Lieutenant Vanderhoff announced, her voice tinged with awe.

Genevieve’s heart raced, but her face remained an impassive mask. Years of command had honed her ability to project an aura of extraordinary authority. Even as her mind reeled at the momentous occasion.

“Rest assured, Lieutenant, ‘tisn’t mine. Open a channel,” she ordered crisply.

As Vanderhoff’s fingers danced across the console, Genevieve allowed herself a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Her gaze drifted to the empty station where her secret lover often sat during alpha shift. The doctor’s absence left an ache in her chest that she quickly suppressed.

Focus, Boleyn, she thought. Just think of it as though the fate of humanity rests on this moment, on my tiny body.

Static crackled, then resolved into a litany of alien voices.

“Greetings, visitors. We welcome you in peace.”

Genevieve’s brow furrowed. The words were in perfect Alliance Standard, just as the single voice had been when they exited the wormhole. How was that possible? A chill of unease rippled down her spine.

“This is Captain Genevieve Boleyn of the Allied Space Craft Pioneer. We come in friendship,” she replied smoothly, pushing aside her misgivings.

“We are the citizens of Mort,” Half a dozen voices said in unison.

The viewscreen shifted and showed the spokesman and an entourage of eight individuals. They had an oddish look about them. Humanoid and almost indistinguishable from her crew. Other than a slight glowing of their grayish flesh. And yet, for all their similarities, something was distinctly disturbing about their appearance. Their eyes perturbed her the most, a pale blue cast across them with a different shade or color underneath.

Dead eyes, she thought. They have the eyes of the dead. A catlike creature joined them. Its yellow and black tortoiseshell fur displayed through a sheer gossamer dress, and her bare nipples showed through. She was quite attractive and sensual. The Captain’s eyes darted to Ress Thorne, her own bipedal humanoid Felis.

It’s been said, once you’ve had cat, you never go back.

A soft chatter followed by three chirps was spoken by the creature on the planet, and Ress yowed softly in response. She wondered what had been said, and with a tap of the tablet in her lap, Captain Boleyn checked what had been said.

You’re most attractive, the creature said.

Thank you, Ress Thorne responded.

As the alien spokesman continued with flowery pleasantries, Genevieve’s mind wandered. Alpha shift couldn’t come soon enough. She’d stayed on duty from Beta shift to supervise the approach and contact with the race, sending a greeting message through hyperspace comms. But now, with the tension, excitement, and dread of a new First Contact, the day grew long. She craved release, needed to shed the mantle of command, and lose herself in pleasure.

“We desire only to please you and be your allies. To be trading partners and give you whatever you desire of us, from us, or anything we possess.”

The captain’s communicator vibrated subtly against her wrist. Genevieve’s pulse quickened as she discreetly rolled her arm where she could check the message.

“Your quarters. 0200. Don’t be late.” Doctor Aodha shouldn’t use comm to comm from her issued unit for this message.

A rare smile tugged at her lips, but she held on with a tight resistance from such a show of emotion. And for now, duty called. But soon, she would find sweet oblivion in her lover’s arms.

She sent a quick message, “Yes, we can discuss the scans of this planet.” They wouldn’t discuss anything official, but this protected them from unwanted inspections.

Commander Alastair Gordon stepped onto the bridge, his broad shoulders tense as he approached Captain Boleyn. An unspoken tension between them crackled to life as he approached her.

“So, would you like to, how do you say this, teleport some people down here?” The diplomat asked.

“Yes, we’d like to send a party down accompanied by some security personnel. Once the security personnel are satisfied, most of them would return to the ship. Afterward, the Away Party stays and discusses matters with you. Getting to know you and do some preliminary negotiations.”

“Most hardly acceptant. Will you be joining the Away people?”

“Not at this time. There are standard protocols, and I must obtain clearance to go planet-side.”

“I understand,” a voice came from behind the diplomat, “in your native language, ‘Jusqu’à ce que nous nous revoyions,’ Madam Captain.”

“Who is that, and how do you understand French?”

“I am Fatum, Queen of Strigoi. Oh, let me think. I must’ve picked it up from a visitor in the past, mon amie.” She stayed in the dark out of sight, a soft, tall, sumptuous glow in shadows behind the others.

“Captain,” he said, voice low and controlled. “The away team is ready for deployment.”

Genevieve’s eyes flicked to him, cold and dismissive. “Very well, Commander. Proceed.” She turned back to the screen. If you’ll transmit your location coordinates, I’ll have my team teleport to you.”

“Certainly,” the diplomat said.

“Au revoir pour l’instant,” Captain Boleyn said. The screen shifted back to the view of the planet Strigoi below. “Well, that was ... strange.” In her mind, the word fucking was between was and strange.

Alastair started to speak, hesitated, then pressed on. “Ma’am, I’d like to volunteer for the mission. My expertise could—”

“Denied,” she cut him off sharply. “Your place is here, Commander. I need you on the bridge. One of us must be here every moment until this mission is completed.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly.

“Understood, Captain.”

“Don’t pout, Commander,” she said. “You’ll get to play in some sandbox somewhere, sooner or later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, feeling a slight chill of humiliation and a sudden rush of excitement. Was she flirting with me? Alastair didn’t know this was his first cruise with her. Her reputation preceded her, and flirtations weren’t something she did. No, Gordon realized, she put me in my place.

An agitation grew inside Ress Thorne. The tip of her tail twitched in a constant throb, her throat tightened, and pestering blossomed in her mind while a different tension took over low inside her. A familiar but unwanted moisture thickened, and heat awakened.

Not now, she thought.

As Alastair turned away, Lieutenant Commander Cyia Barrett strode in, her face alert. “Security teams are prepared and standing by, Captain,” she reported crisply.

Genevieve’s gaze softened imperceptibly. “Excellent work, Lieutenant Commander. I want you to personally oversee the away team’s safety protocols.”

Cyia’s eyes widened slightly. “But Captain, my duties as Head of Security—”

“Are precisely why I need you on this, Barrett,” Genevieve interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “Something about this situation isn’t right. These people know our language. I want our best watching their backs.”

As Cyia nodded and moved to comply, Genevieve allowed her thoughts to drift momentarily. The situation was almost suffocating her. She longed for the release that awaited her in a few short hours when she could shed her responsibilities and would lose herself in pleasure.

But for now, duty called. And Genevieve Boleyn would be damned if she let her personal desires interfere with the safety of her crew and the success of their mission.

“To my knowledge, no Earth or Alliance vessel has ever traveled to this sector before Andromeda,” First Officer Alastair Gordon said.

“Mine either,” Genevieve said, “However, Earth’s history in space stretches back more than 1800 years. I’m not familiar with all or close to all of the exploits of space travel back to the inception of FTL, are you?”

“No, Madam Captain.”

“SFC, Ress Thorne, would you like to join the away team?” Boleyn asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, scoot, and when you get there, talk with your kindred.”

“I’m not all that confident we speak the same language,” Thorne said.

Genevieve held up her pad. “I believe you’re mistaken. If you wish, I can read it to you.”

“No, Captain, that isn’t necessary. Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“She isn’t my kindred, nor my kith or kin. She’s something different. I ... I ... sensed this darker nature in our short exchange. Something malevolent.”

“We are in geosynchronous orbit on this planet. Helmswoman, what is the distance between us and the transmission point on the surface?”

“Ma’am, it’s 38,982 kilometers, which is further than necessary at Earth for the same stationary position.”

“Nonetheless, I’m telling you, she’s something different, very much different to me.”

“Ress, you have your orders.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Ress Thorne turned and exited the bridge. The lift doors slid shut, and she slumped against the wall, allowing her tail to swish about in agitation, and she let a caterwaul slip from her throat. Settling into a soft, quiet purr, trying to calm herself, she was determined to do her duty.

Lieutenant Commander Piper Vanderhoff stood at attention before Captain Boleyn, her posture rigid but her eyes alight with barely contained excitement. “Communications systems are primed and ready, captain. We’ve established a clear channel with the Strigoi delegation.”

Genevieve’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her Third Officer. “And the universal translators?”

“Fully operational, ma’am,” Piper responded promptly. “We’ve already received preliminary linguistic data. The syntax is ... unusually familiar. We should have no trouble communicating.”

A ghost of a smile touched Genevieve’s lips. “Well done, Vanderhoff. I want you leading the away team. Your expertise in xenolinguistics will be crucial.”

“But we don’t need to use the translator. They speak our language.”

“I’m not worried about what they tell us. My concern lies in what they say to one another that we mightn’t understand. Not every race is interested in unconditional friendship. Not every race has honorable intentions. Miss Vanderhoff, this is where you are invaluable.”

Piper’s chest swelled with pride, but Lieutenant Frederick Thompson burst onto the bridge before she could respond, his usually immaculate uniform slightly disheveled.

“Captain!” he exclaimed, breathing heavily. “I’ve just finished the final diagnostics on the teleportation systems. There’s something you need to know.”

Genevieve’s eyes flashed. “This had better be important, Lieutenant, or I’ll have you scrubbing all the sonic showers for a month.”

It would be dangerous for Fredrick’s relationship with his Captain if it wasn’t a necessary disruption. Frederick swallowed hard.

“It’s the radiation levels on the planet’s surface, ma’am. They’re ... fluctuating ... doing so in ways I’ve never seen before. They seem almost organized or controlled. It could interfere with our ability to maintain a stable lock on the away team.”

The captain’s jaw clenched. “And you’re just bringing this to my attention now, Thompson?”

“I wanted to be certain, Captain,” he stammered. “I’ve triple-checked the readings. Any of our operators can compensate, but it will require constant monitoring and adjustments.”

“Are the radiation levels dangerous to our life form?”

“No, Madam Captain, they aren’t.”

“What about Miss Thorne? She’s a Caitian.”

“No, our Felis Humanoidous will be A-Okay-us.” No one broke out in laughter; they stifled the urge, but many cleared their throats or let out a soft chuckle.

“Don’t be cutesy, Mister.” Genevieve’s mind raced, weighing the risks against the potential rewards of this first contact. The tickling anticipation she’d felt earlier gave way to a familiar, icy dread.

“Vanderhoff,” she barked, “you have ten minutes to brief your team on these new developments. Thompson, I want you on that away mission. Your engineering expertise may prove invaluable.”

As her officers scrambled to comply, Genevieve allowed herself a moment of weakness, closing her eyes briefly. The price of command, she mused bitterly. Always the price of command. Worry not about tomorrow. Today’s travails will suffice, she thought. Where is that from, she wondered.

“Mister Gordon, go to teleport station four and see our away team off.”

“On my way,” Gordon said.

The selected crew members assembled, and Gordon’s gaze lingered on Ress Thorne. The Caitian’s feline features highlighted her unease but also showed a mask of determination.

“Be cautious,” First Officer Gordon warned, his voice low. “Something’s not right about this or these people. God’s speed, it’s an old Earth saying. It is intended to be a good luck charm. So, God’s speed to you all, return to us safe and sound. Miss Micucci, transmatt them now.”

Stacey Micucci locked coordinates and swiped across the holographic control. There was a hum of energy, and the team disappeared.

Milliseconds later, the away team materialized on the planet’s surface. They found themselves in a grand, decaying hall. Before them stood a group of beings that, at first glance, appeared human. But as Vanderhoff looked closer, she saw the telltale signs of decay. Sunken eyes, whitish skin, an aura of wrongness about the lot of them that made her skin crawl.

A regal figure stepped forward, flanked by what appeared to be attendants. “Welcome,” the being said, its voice a rasp. “I am Fatum, Queen of the Strigoi. We’ve been expecting you.”

Vanderhoff fought to keep her voice steady. “How is it you know our language?”

The Queen’s lips curled into a grotesque smile. “We have ... ways of acquiring knowledge. Perhaps you’d like to learn more?”

Vanderhoff felt a strange pull as the Queen spoke, a desire to step closer. She shook her head, trying to clear it. What was happening to them?

Vanderhoff felt her heart racing as the Queen’s gaze locked onto hers. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an unsettling energy.

“We would be ... honored to learn more,” Vanderhoff said, her voice huskier than usual. She glanced at Thompson, noticing a sheen of sweat on his brow.

The Queen’s consort, a tall, gaunt figure, stepped forward. “Perhaps we could retire to more ... comfortable quarters?” His voice was like silk sliding over stone.

Vanderhoff nodded, unable to refuse. As they followed the royal couple, she tapped her communicator. “Vanderhoff to Pioneer. The situation stable, but ... strange. We’re continuing diplomatic dialogues.”

Back on the ship, Captain Boleyn frowned at the odd pause in Vanderhoff’s report. Something felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She paced the bridge, stress coiled inside her muscles. The signal died.

Vanderhoff found herself seated between the Queen and her consort in the Strigoi palace. Their conversation drifted from politics to culture, each topic laced with innuendo.