Behind Blue Eyes Catherine Kendall No one knows what it's like To be the bad man, To be the sad man, Behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like To be hated, To be fated, To telling only lies. But my dreams Aren't as empty, As my ehartache seems to be... 'Behind Blue Eyes' by Pete Townshend The vampire hungered: the kind of hunger that gnawed at the pit of his stomach; the kind of hunger that a vampire got when he'd gone too long without a feed. It had been three days since he had fed, and there wasn't much hope that he would feed for awhile. He was a prisoner of the Federation. He was being held in a large fenced-in yard; there were several guards, but they would be no problem. Their little sidearms couldn't harm a vampire that much; all he had to do was fly out of the yard -- if it were night. But the light from the Sardos power converter reminded him that it was day. Daytime was when a vampire's power was at its lowest. He could pass as a human during the day, but he couldn't fly, or pass through walls without getting exhausted. Therefore he was forced to wait here, for night to come. "That is, if there is night on this goddess forsaken planet," he muttered to himself. Suddenly he felt the unmistakable presence of one of his kind approaching. He looked around. It was Servalan! She was standing at the yard's gate, holding a Federation- issued, non-commissioned officer's blaster. She shot the guard at the gate. Then she came inside the cell, and shot the remaining guards. Finally, she turned towards the vampire. The vampire's canines fully extended and he growled at her. She unconsciously backed up a couple of steps. "It would be a waste of ammunition to shoot you. They'll probably execute you once they find that their friends are dead." "How do you know that I won't kill you?" He made his voice smooth, silky. "It's daylight, you don't have the strength. I'll leave you to your fate." There was a smug satisfaction in Servalan's voice. With that said, she took her pilots and left. That left only one other prisoner alive. The vampire turned to her; she was a blond woman, not past twenty years old. She wore a once-blue uniform: now her clothes were ripped, her face and body bruised. She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes terrified. He had seen that look before too many times, and he knew what had caused it. The guards had used her for their pleasure. "I won't hurt you," he whispered to her. She backed up into the fence. He looked into her eyes and felt her will bend towards his. He could feel the pounding of her heart. He kissed her lips, then worked his way to her throat. When he bit down, he could feel her emotions as if they were his. He took enough to satisfy his thirst, but not enough to kill her -- he made it a practice not to kill those he fed from. When he was finished feeding, he stripped the uniform off a dead guard, and made her put it on, then handed her a gun, and looked into her eyes again. "You must get out of here, run away, hide. Whatever you do, don't go back to where you have been living before. Do you understand me?" The woman nodded. "Then go." The vampire watched her leave. He looked around the yard for a guard near his size, found one, slipped the uniform off the body, and put it on. He was getting ready to leave when Vila showed up. He too wore a Federation uniform. The vampire grabbed Vila's shoulder. "Vila." "Don't try anything smart. I've been kind enough for one day." Vila raised his gun towards him. "Where's Servalan?" "She's gone." "How come you're not dead?" " Look, she came, she blasted off with her sidearm, grabbed her two pilots, then she went. Maybe she had other things on her mind, maybe she didn't see me. I don't know, I don't care all that much. Let's get undercover before we're seen." "All right." They left the yard, running until they were over a hill and into a wooded area. Then they sat down beneath a tree. "Before we go any further, I want you to know, I didn't steal this uniform off of a dead guard, I was issued it," Vila pointed out. "So?" "They were going to make me a starship captain, just as long as you know. All you got for your cleverness was an execution order on your head." "Yes, Vila, I take your point. You're obviously far cleverer than I." He took a map sketched onto a piece of paper out of his pocket. "This is where we are going." "What? Where are we going?" Vila asked. "To destroy a computer." "Why?" "It knows too much about me." No one knows what it's like To feel these feelings like I do, And I blame you. No one bites back so hard on their anger, None of my pain and woe can show through... But my dreams aren't as empty As my heartache seems to be I have hours only lonely, My love is vengeance, It's never free. 'Behind Blue Eyes' by Pete Townshend There was something wrong with Zen's programming. That could be the only logical reason for the things Avon was finding on his complete check-up of Zen's circuits. It wasn't big things, but little ones, like the fact that Tarrant had only ordered food from the replicators when he was forced to be on watch during a meal time, and only if Cally, Avon or Vila had been on the flight deck with him. According to Zen's records, Tarrant never ate if he was off watch, or if he was alone with Dayna. Tarrant's caloric consumption was so low that he should have starved to death a long time ago. Then there was the small fact that someone had tried to reprogram the med unit's computers. Avon was working on the med unit computers, he had most of the memory cubes on a table, and was going over them again and again. Cally came into the med unit carrying a tray. Without looking up, Avon snapped, "I thought I said that I wanted to be left alone." "That was at four hundred hours; it is now twenty-two hundred hours. Even you have to eat, Avon." "Put the tray on the exam table, I'll get to it in awhile." A few moments passed, and Avon looked up from his work. Cally was still there. "What are you still doing here?" "Tell me, what are you doing?" Cally asked. "I haven't given Zen a top to bottom check since Blake left." "I see, and you have decided to do this check on your own." "Exactly. Now can you leave?" he asked as he went back to his work. "I know that you think you own the Liberator." "I do," Avon interrupted her. "Blake gave it to me when he left." "So, he gave it to you. That doesn't mean you have to shut me out when you do a check. You did ask me to tell you if you got a bit overzealous, remember?" she reminded him. "I'm not being zealous, I'm just the only person aboard qualified to do the job." "What about me?" she asked. "What about you? You're simply the communications expert." "I am also good with computers," Cally reminded him. "Tell me what to do, and I can help you get your checks done quicker." "Can I trust you, Cally?" Avon asked. "If you cannot trust me by now, then there's really no point in us having a relationship." "You're right," Avon sighed. "Someone's reprogrammed the med unit's computers, so that certain things can be taken out of the ship's stocks, and that no records will be logged." "Do you think one of the crew is taking drugs?" Cally asked. "Who do you think it is?" "There's nothing wrong with the drug supply. I've counted every single pill in stock, and nothing's missing. What's missing is blood. Someone is taking an average of three pints a day from the ship's stores." "It must be a malfunction," Cally said. "Why would anyone need so much blood every day?" "One of the crew is a vampire." "That kind of joke is not funny." "I am serious. It's the only explanation that makes any sense." "You do not think that I..." "Of course I don't think you're a vampire," Avon said. "I've known you long enough to know if you were one or not." "All right, say that you're right, that one of the crew is a vampire. How could you prove which one?" "I've been tracing the reprogramming back to its very beginnings. If I do this right, I should be able to discover the precise day that the computer was reprogrammed." Avon finished what he was doing and put the cubes back in the memory board. He put that back into the med unit computer, then touched a few buttons. The information he was looking for printed out on the computer's screen. "The first withdrawal of blood was made a day after we rescued you and Vila." "So do you know who reprogrammed the computer?" "No, but it does reinforce my suspicions. The vampire has to be either Tarrant or Dayna. And we can't ask either one of them to tell on the other because they live together." "What about Vila?" Cally asked. "Could he have been infected before he was rescued?" "It is a possibility, but I hope that the vampire isn't Vila. Much as I hate to admit it, he is my friend. I wouldn't want to kill him." "Why would you kill him?" Avon looked up at her. "You know the answer to that question." "You can't kill a person because of vengeance, especially when the person wasn't directly involved. You can't condemn a person simply because of their species." "All vampires are evil," Avon said firmly. They go from system to system, from planet to planet, killing the popula- tion to use as food. They are evil; they must be stopped." "Avon, I have known many vampires..." "Please, Cally, don't try to defend those monsters," Avon interrupted. "I have repaired the med unit computer. There is now a lock on it. No one will be able to get as much as a headache remedy without my permission." "If this vampire is as good with computers as you think he is, he might be able to get around your lock." "I don't think so. Orac helped me with it, and as you know, no one can reprogram Orac." Avon put his tools away, then cleaned up the mess he'd made, and ate some of the food that Cally had brought him. "When are you going to bed?" Cally asked. "In awhile," Avon told her. "I want to confront my suspect. I want to see what his reaction will be." "That could be dangerous. If your suspect is a vampire, he might try to kill you.". "I'll be careful." Avon took a small gun out of his boot. "It's loaded with wooden projectile bullets. If the vampire does try to attack me, I will be prepared." "I want to go with you, just in case anything happens." "It's my fight," Avon said firmly. "I am not denying you that. If you do find your vampire, and if it is one of those who slaughters innocent people, then you can be the one to kill it. But what if there was a malfunction, and there isn't a vampire? You will not kill your suspect then, will you?" Cally asked. "I won't kill anyone until I get such overwhelming proof that everyone will have to believe me." Avon put the gun back into his boot. "Let's go."    Avon came onto the flight deck carrying Orac, Cally close behind him. He put Orac down on its stand, then turned to survey the room. Vila sat on the couch, drinking as usual. Tarrant was at his pilot's console, the place where he always sat when he was on watch, even when they were nowhere near Federation space. "I found something quite interesting when I did a routine check on the med unit computers," Avon said. "Oh really?" Tarrant didn't even bother to look up from his console. "There's been an unexplained loss of blood from the med unit's stocks." Avon watched Tarrant for a reaction -- there wasn't one. "Do you have any idea how this could have happened?" "Perhaps it was a computer error," Tarrant suggested. "Computer error, my eye!" Avon almost lost his temper. Cally touched Avon's arm; he could feel her mind brush his. She was right. Orally, Avon said, "I have run over a dozen checks on the med unit computers and they all confirm one thing. Three pints a day of human blood have been stolen from the med unit's stores." ' "Why would anyone take blood?" Vila asked, astonished. "It doesn't make sense. Why don't you have a drink and forget about your computer problems? They'll work themselves out." "They don't need to work themselves out. I've already fixed the problem." "How did you do that?" Tarrant asked. "I've put a series of locks on the med unit's computers. No one will be allowed access to the med unit without my expressed permission." "Why would you do something stupid like that?" "One of the crew is a vampire," Avon said. "Vampire!" Vila yelped. "A real live vampire!" "You can't be serious," Tarrant said. "I am very serious." " A vampire couldn't have sneaked onto this ship without anyone noticing. Zen's sensors would have picked up any unauthorized people on board," Tarrant pointed out. "Avon thinks that one of the crew is a vampire," Cally said. "If a member of the crew is a vampire and hasn't harmed anyone, then it should be left in peace," Tarrant suggested. "You're mad, Tarrant," Vila said. "You know about the legends of vampires, how they go from planet to planet, from ship to ship killing innocent people." " Has anyone ever seen anything like that occurring?" Tarrant asked. "It's only a legend." "I know the legends are true," Avon said. "I knew on the day vampires killed my parents."    Kerr Avon was sixteen years old, and he was traveling home from a school field trip to Homer's nearest moon. He, his fraternal twin brother Damian, his little brother Ian, and his parents had settled on this world three years before, and Avon hated it. There was too much fresh air and too many plants around. The people weren't classified and could intermix no matter what their profession. It all seemed unnatural to him. He wished he were back home on Earth. The first thing Avon saw when he came off the shuttle and into the terminal was a body. The woman's throat had been torn out. A girl behind him screamed. "Stay here," the teacher ordered, and went back into the ship. "We must go home; we have to see if our parents are safe," Avon said. "You know what the teacher ordered. We should stay here," Damian said, his pink eyes frightened, for Avon's twin was an albino. "I don't care what the teacher says." Avon ran towards the entrance to the terminal. He could hear Damian running to catch up. When they got inside the terminal building, a heavy smell hit Avon in the face. "What's that smell?" "Death," Damian said. They walked home on village streets littered with bodies. Even the animals had been killed. Finally they returned to their home. The front door stood open. They went inside. What was left of their father lay in the living room: there was a stake driven through his heart, and he had been beheaded. "Why, why would anyone kill Father?" Avon cried. He sank down to the ground. Damian grabbed his shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "You will forget." "I don't understand." But Avon could feel his will melt away. "You will forget what our father is, what I am. You are not one of us, will not be until the day you die. When that day comes, you will remember. For you own life's sake, you must forget." Avon found himself promising, but then couldn't remember what he had promised to forget. Damian took him into his arms, and they cried for their father. When they were finished crying they went off in search of their mother, but she was nowhere to be found. Then they searched for their little brother Ian, who had stayed home from school the day they had left on the field trip. Avon found him in the clothes hamper; it took both Dami- an and Avon to pull him free, since he didn't want to come out. He was only eight years old and small for his age. "What happened?" Avon asked him. Ian didn't answer, he simply stared into space. Damian shook him hard. Ian blinked and in a small voice, said, "Vampires came." "Did you see anything?" "They killed Daddy. Mother hid me. They took her away with them." Ian started to cry. "I'm so scared." Avon took him into his arms and stroked his hair. "It's all right, all the vampires are gone." When the Federation finally answered the teacher's distress call several weeks later, they took the surviving children to Earth, and placed them into foster care. Ian was a special case; the doctors said that he had been made mentally ill from seeing his father die, and took him away for what they called treatment. Avon never saw him again.    Tarrant was on watch, it was twenty-one hundred hours, and the ship was relatively quiet. All he could think about was food, for he was hungry but not yet starving. Over a week had passed since he had fed last, and he could hear the heartbeats of his crew mates. The heartbeats made him even more hungry. Avon's was the worst, since he was on the flight deck, checking and rechecking the results of the tests that he had run that day. Avon's investigation was beginning to wear on Tarrant's nerves. Finally the pilot decided to say something. "If you think there is a vampire on the Liberator, why don't you simply kill it?" "If I did, I would be just as evil as the vampires that killed my parents. If I am wrong in my suspicions, I would be committing murder. My case must be air tight." Avon looked at him. "If it's you, I will kill you." Tarrant sighed and leaned against his console chair. "I'm not above killing for self defense. I'll kill you if you ever try to harm me." "That might be harder than you think," Avon said. "Besides, I know plenty of ways to kill a vampire." Suddenly the unmistakable smell of garlic wafted onto the flight deck. Vila entered, wearing a wreath made of garlic around his neck. He also wore a large crucifix. The smell of the garlic made Tarrant nauseated. "Vila, you stink." Avon looked up from Orac, his eyes suspicious. "Do you have a problem with what Vila wears?" "He is stinking up the flight deck." "I don't smell anything, do you, Vila?" Avon asked. "Of course I do!" Vila said. "That's why I'm wearing garlic." "You have to come up with a better reason than that," Tarrant said. "My grandmother always told me that vampires are frightened of garlic and crosses. That vampires won't attack me if I'm wearing them. She also said that garlic could kill a vampire." "Are you sure of that?" Avon said. "My grandmother was never wrong," Vila said firmly. "There is one way you could prove you're not a vampire," Avon said. "What do you have in mind?" Tarrant asked. "Why don't you try on Vila's wreath, and if you're really brave, you could eat a clove of garlic." "You can't be serious," Tarrant gasped. "Are you really afraid of a bit of garlic and a cross?" "Very well," Tarrant sighed. He went over to Vila and took the wreath off garlic off of him, then put it on. He took a bulb of garlic off the wreath and put it in his mouth. He began to chew. He could feel his throat contract at the taste of the garlic. "Swallow it!" Avon ordered. Tarrant took a gulp, and the garlic burned a fiery path to his stomach. "You see, Avon, Tarrant isn't a vampire!" Vila took the garlic wreath back. "I don't know how you did it, Tarrant, but I know you're a vampire," Avon said. "I'm going to prove it, then I'm going to kill you."    It took all of Tarrant's control to keep the garlic down the hour until he got off watch, then he went as fast as he could without running to the cabin that he shared with Dayna. He went past Dayna without saying anything to her; he had to get to the bathroom. When he got there, he started to vomit. He vomited for what seemed like hours. Finally, when he was through, he sat down by the toilet bowl. Dayna handed him a wash cloth; he wiped his mouth then his face. "You should go to the med unit," Dayna said. "No," Tarrant groaned. "But I've never seen you this sick before," she said. "Come to think of it, you've only been sick once since I met you, and that was the plague that Servalan dropped on Auron." "I can't go to the med unit." "Give me one good reason why not, and it better be good." "Avon would find out that I went there." "What would be so wrong in Avon finding out that you're sick?" "It would be wrong, because an hour ago, I ate a clove of garlic," Tarrant explained. "Why would you do something like that? Isn't garlic toxic to vampires?" Dayna asked. "Eating garlic was the only way that I could prove that I'm not a vampire." Tarrant's face began to itch. He reached up and scratched it. "You have hives all over your face," Dayna told him. "It's from the garlic." "Are you going to die?" Tarrant could hear the concern in Dayna's voice. "Of course I'm not going to die! I'm just going to be sick for a few days," Tarrant said. "I have some cream for the rash in the top drawer of the night stand. Can you fetch it for me?" "You can't stay here all night. I'd better get you to bed." Dayna helped Tarrant stand up, then guided him to the bed. She touched a button on the wall, and the bed suddenly grew king-sized. Tarrant took off his clothes and lay down while Dayna got the cream out. She squirted some on her hand and started to dab the welts. Tarrant grabbed her hand. "You really don't have to do this, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." "I know you are," she said in a tone of voice indicating that she didn't think he could. "You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and you really don't need me, now do you?" Tarrant didn't feel like fighting. He let go of her arm. "Have your way with me." "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that," she teased. She started to rub the cream in. "How long do you think you'll be able to keep your condition from Avon?" "What makes you think he'll find out?" "He's been snooping around, that's why," she said firmly. "I'd hoped my little demonstration would convince him I wasn't a vampire." "I was wondering, have you ever killed anyone to feed?" "Never. I only kill in self defense" "You told me once that human blood can help your body regenerate. Is that true?" Dayna asked. "Yes, it is." "How long would it take for this cream to make your skin all right?" "A few days." "How long would it take for you to heal if you consumed human blood?" "A few hours. What are you leading to?" Tarrant asked suspiciously. "You could use my blood to help make you well," she offered. "I can't, and before you ask why, you wouldn't understand." "I understand this, if you show up, and you have welts all over you, Avon will know you're a vampire. If you feed from me, your face will heal and your secret will be safe." "Your logic would make Orac proud." Tarrant sighed, but he knew she was right; he had to feed, or else Avon would find out. He was several days from the nearest inhabited planet, so he would have to use Dayna. He didn't want to; he had never taken blood from her. It was too dangerous, for every time he took blood from her, a blood bond would be formed. The more he took, the closer to her he would get, until he would be forced into giving her his blood and turning her into a vampire. That was a decision that he wanted to wait for. "Well, what are you going to do?" she asked. "I'll feed from you, but only this once," Tarrant said firmly. "I know after we do this, that you'll ask for it again, but I can't." "Why would I?" "The sharing of blood is a very pleasurable thing. In fact, it is even better than sex. It's quite addictive" "You can't be serious." "I'm very serious." Tarrant paused. "Do you still want to give me your blood?" "Of course I do." Knowing that this was something he'd wanted to do ever since meeting her, he turned to Dayna, took her into her arms and kissed her, until the kisses became passionate. He took this slowly, since this would be the only time he would take Dayna's blood. Slowly, very slowly, he trailed a trail of kisses down her neck. He didn't stop there, for if he bit her there, Avon would see. He opened up her tunic, and his kisses went lower, until he was at a place that Avon wouldn't see. He bit down on an artery at Dayna's breast, nicking it just enough to make the blood start to flow, then he began to feed. Dayna gasped, and her body arched back in pleasure. She dug her hands into his hair, urging him on. He fed, taking only enough to heal him, not enough to kill. When he was through, he released Dayna, then kissed her. He took her into his arms, and pulled her close to him until her head was resting on his chest. Dayna fingered the tufts of hair on his chest, and almost dreamily, said, "You're right, it is better than sex."    After the night he had shared blood with Dayna, Tarrant decided to lie low. He knew that he could feed as soon as he went planetside. But even after a month had passed since he had taken blood from Dayna, he knew that Avon was still suspicious, for every time they had gone to a planet with humanoid life, Avon forbade Tarrant to teleport down. When he tried to teleport himself, he found that Avon had put a lock on the teleport system that prevented him from teleporting. His hunger was beginning to overwhelm him. Dayna had tried to persuade him to take her blood time and time again, but he always refused to take it. She couldn't understand the danger in it; she could only see the pleasure. Tarrant decided to try to reprogram the med unit computers. As soon as he got to the med unit, he went to the place where the blood was kept in cold storage: it was empty. He looked in every cabinet, every storage unit, but they were all empty. There wasn't even a healing pad to be found. He then set about trying to coax something out of the med unit computers, but he couldn't even get the thing to turn on. Finally getting that far, he tried to go about reprogramming it in a roundabout way. He told the computer to give him something for a headache. If he could get that, then he could go deeper, and get some blood. Suddenly the door to the med unit opened. Avon and Cally came in: he could tell who they were without having to turn around, from their distinctive heartbeats. "Hold it right there!" Avon ordered. "Put your hands up and move away from the computer." Tarrant did. "How did you know I was here?" "Zen reports to me every time someone comes into the med unit. I knew that you had to come here eventually," Avon said smugly. "I caught you red handed trying to get blood." "If you check the files, you'll see that I wasn't accessing blood." Cally went over the computer that Tarrant had been trying to reprogram, and read the screen. "Tarrant was telling the truth; he was requesting a headache remedy." "Not blood," Avon said levelly. "Not blood," Cally said. Tarrant decided that he would have to lie about having a headache, or else Avon would become suspicious again. "Can I please have something for a headache?" Avon went over to the computer, touched a few buttons. Tarrant watched, memorizing the code. Avon then went over to the dispenser where a hypospray materialized, picked it up and pressed it hard against Tarrant's neck. When Avon pushed the trigger, the headache remedy passed into Tarrant's blood stream. "Thank you." "It's been interesting seeing how long you can go without blood. You're soon going to get to the point where you'll be forced to come out in the open. When you do, I'll be waiting," Avon promised.    Tarrant strode down the corridors of the Liberator. He was in an unused section of the ship, trying to work off his need. Perhaps if he walked long enough, he would forget about the hunger that gnawed in the pit of his stomach, a hunger that was beginning to take over everything else. Tarrant's senses were enhanced by the bloodlust; he could hear the heartbeats of the crew, and their conversations. He heard Dayna ask, "Do you have any requests?" "Can you play something relaxing?" Vila asked. "All right." "If Avon kills Tarrant, do you think there might be a chance that we could get back together?" "Avon won't kill Tarrant," Dayna said firmly. "What if he does?" "Then I'll kill Avon." "What about us?" "There is no us, Vila. There hasn't been an us for almost three years," she reminded him. "Not since Tarrant stole you from me." "Tarrant didn't steal me." Dayna paused. "What you and I had together was fun. You were my first lover, and I'll always cherish that, but what I have with Tarrant is different. Surely you can understand that." "You're in love with him." "Isn't it obvious?" "Not to Avon and Cally, but to me it is. I fell in love with you. In fact, I still love you. But my love for you is so much that I'll do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you go. I hope you'll find happiness with Tarrant." Vila paused. "I'd better get to bed. I'll see you in the morning." From then on, all Tarrant could hear was the music from Dayna's harp. The music made him think of her, and his canines began to grow. The thought of taking her blood entered his mind, the memories of the time he had almost forcing everything else out. He walked faster, until he was in a part of the ship he had never been in before. He could smell blood, lots of it. He walked down the corridor until the smell overcame him. He found himself in a room with the lights on. There was crate after crate of Ahmar de Heme, a vampire wine based on blood. There was enough wine in this room to feed him for more than a year. He opened a crate and took out a bottle. The wine's burgundy color shone in the light, almost like a jewel. He uncorked the bottle with his teeth, and took a large drink straight from the bottle. The wine trickled its way down to Tarrant's stomach, and quenched the fire that burned there. He drank the entire bottle, then decided to return to his room before he got too drunk. He left the room and put his personal code on the lock, a personal code that Avon, even with Orac's help, might have a hard time cracking. He took an unopened crate to his room, took out a bottle and put the rest behind a panel. Then he drank until the warm feeling overcame him.    Tarrant was on watch yet again, and Dayna was with him, almost hovering. He could tell by the bulge in her pocket that she was armed. She was playing a game with Vila. The pungent smell of Vila's necklace nauseated Tarrant; he wished yet again that the thief could be persuaded to forget his fear of vampires. Hopefully before Tarrant was publicly sick. Avon was, as always, with Orac, talking to him in hushed tones, talking so softly that Tarrant couldn't understand. Perhaps the conversation had something to do with their going to Velka Six, once a Federation pleasure planet, but now an open planet since the Intergalactic War. Tarrant had once been stationed there for five years. "We've entered the Velka system," Tarrant said. "Good." Avon went back to his research. "Why are we going to Velka?" Vila asked. "We're going to take a holiday." "You mean a real holiday?" Vila gasped. "I can have fun, meet some nice girls?" "This will be a real holiday." "What about girls?" Vila persisted. "There are lots of very nice prostitutes on Velka Six that would be willing to make you happy for the right price," Tarrant told him. "Then I'd better get my money together." Vila left the flight deck. "So, Avon, have you finally given up your search for the vampire?" Dayna asked as she put the pieces of the game up. "Even Sherlock Holmes needs a holiday," Avon said. "This has nothing to do with the fact that I was once stationed on Velka Six, does it?" Tarrant asked. "What would ever give you that idea?" Avon asked inno- cently -- a little too innocently. "Of course it doesn't matter." "Why can't I believe you?" "Someone should stay on the Liberator in case anything happens." "What could happen?" Dayna asked. "We're not even in Federation space." "There's always a chance that Servalan might track us down," Avon said. "If she does, then we'll need back-ups." "I agree," Tarrant said. "But who would stay on the Liberator while the rest of us have fun?" Dayna asked. "Isn't that obvious?" Avon asked coldly. "He means me," Tarrant said. "He wants me to stay aboard while he tracks down my past." "In a word, yes," Avon said. "Then I'll stay," Tarrant said. "You're not seriously going to miss your holiday because of Avon's suspicions?" Dayna gasped. "It will be a holiday without Avon on this ship." "I'll stay here with you." "I don't want you to miss your holiday because of me." "I won't miss anything. Promise." She looked into Tarrant's eyes, and he could see the truth.    Tarrant was watching an old two-dimensional motion picture called 'Dracula.' Zen was projecting it on the main viewscreen. It reminded him of his childhood when he went to movie theaters. Movies were different then, larger than life. Not like the present, where movies were projected onto small video screens. Tarrant could smell the smell of popcorn -- buttered popcorn -- and he could feel the overwhelming presence of Dayna as she came onto the flight deck. "Hello, Dayna," Tarrant said. "How did you know it was me?" she asked, puzzled. "You have a very distinctive heartbeat. Besides that, we share a blood bond," he told her. "I see." Though it was obvious to Tarrant that she didn't. She sat down beside him on the couch. "Popcorn?" Tarrant took some and ate it. He inwardly thanked his brother Brendon for forcing him to eat human food after he crossed over. Brendon had told him it would be easier to disguise his vampirism if he could eat with everyone else. Years later, when Tarrant was finally able to intermingle with humans, he realized how wise his brother had been. "This popcorn doesn't taste processed." "It's fresh. I made it in the Liberator's kitchen." "I didn't even know that the Liberator had a kitchen." He took a sip of his Ahmar de Heme. "Can I have some wine?" "I really don't think you would like this; it's made for vampires." "What's the difference?" Dayna asked. "Wine's wine. Come on, Del, let me have a glass." Tarrant knew that there was no sense fighting with Dayna; when she wanted something, she got it. He poured her a glass and handed it to her. She took a sip and started coughing as if choking. "What kind of wine is this?" she sputtered. "I told you, vampire wine." "But it's made of blood!" "Exactly! How do you think I've been able to get around Avon's snooping? I drink this." He held his glass up to the light and studied the depths of the burgundy. "Did you have this before you took my blood?" she asked suspiciously. "No, I found it about a week ago," he told her. "There's an entire room filled with crates of the wonderful stuff. That along with the almost endless supply of blood in the med unit's stores would be enough to keep a vampire in blood for years." "Do you think that vampires could have lived on the Liberator before Blake found her?" "It would make a lot of sense. Dayna looked up to the main viewscreen. "I see you're watching another two-d movie. What's it called?" "'Dracula.' It's about an evil vampire. It's almost funny, almost." He finished his drink and started on Dayna's. "Why would you say that?" "Because it's incredible how wrong the writer was about us." "I've always wondered, how did you get interested in old movies?" "It was my father," he explained. "He liked old Humphrey Bogart movies. He taught me how to appreciate the finesse of black and white movies." "That's strange. Two-d movies have been banned on Earth for the past two hundred years." " It was before then, way before then." He poured himself another drink. "All right, when exactly was the year you were born?" "I really don't think you would believe me." "Try me." "All right." Tarrant sighed. "I was born in the year 2044, old calendar." "But that would make you..." Dayna gasped. "Eight hundred and fifty-nine years old. Eight years before the great vampire war." "The great vampire war?" Dayna asked. "I don't think I've ever heard about it." "It was a war that took place on Earth soon after humans found out about our existence. They had never had contact with an alien species. They tried to wipe us out." Tarrant took a deep breath, then let it out. It had always been painful to discuss his childhood. "I was only a boy then. My mother was killed before my eyes. My father found me hiding, and gave me to my brother Brendon. My brother took me in, raised me as a son. He's always been more like a father than a brother to me." "What happened to your father?" "He disappeared during the war. He worked for the underground. He turned up after the war, but of course, I was grown by then. My brother and I helped out during the war; we hid vampires in Brendon's castle. It was so huge that it could have housed thousands." "What happened to Brendon?" "He's still kicking around somewhere. Last time I saw him, he was smuggling arms to groups resisting the Federation." Tarrant paused. "Can we talk about something else?" "All right," Dayna smiled. "Is Tarrant your real name?" "Perhaps." "That's not an answer." "If you want to know the truth, I've gone by so many names during my life, I've almost forgotten my real name." They watched old movies together, and Tarrant drank until he got quite tipsy. and everything had a warm glow about it. He opened the fifth bottle that he had brought with him and began to drink. "Tarrant, you're going to get so drunk that I'm going to have to carry you to bed," Dayna told him. "Is that a proposition?" he asked. "Have I ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman I know?" "Oh, am I?" she asked impatiently. "You're as bad as Vila, do you know that?" "I'm much older and wiser than Vila." He began to nuzzle her neck. She pulled him off of the couch, and over to one side. He noticed that she had his bottle with her. Then she touched a button at the edge of the couch. The table in the middle of the couch unit disappeared, and the couches grew together into a bed. "I didn't know that could happen!" She pulled him back onto the couch. "Vila showed me when I first joined the crew. I think he was trying to seduce me." "Did he succeed?" "Would it bother you if he did?" "No, it doesn't." He began to nuzzle her neck again, and he felt his canines grow. "Aren't you curious about when it happened?" Dayna asked. "No, vampires feel differently about relationships. I love you Dayna, but I don't own you." "Haven't you ever been committed to anyone?" "Of course I have! But sometimes even the best of vampires stray." Dayna tried to unfasten Tarrant's clothes, but he stopped her. He was beginning to get really dizzy, but the wine had given him courage that he hadn't had before. "There's a way vampires make love. It's even better than when I took your blood. Interested in trying it?" "Of course I am! I'm always interested in trying something new." He kissed his way down her neck, stopped at the jugular, and bit down. He could hear her gasp. Dayna brought her hand up to his head and dug her fingers into his hair. He drank her blood, letting her emotions become his. It was a glorious feeling. When he was done, he bit his wrist, cut- ting it open, and pressed it against her lips. "Drink, my beloved." Dayna drank, and afterwards, they made love in the human fashion, the experience heightened to a new point by the blood they had exchanged.    Tarrant woke with Dayna lying in his arms. He couldn't quite remember how they had gotten here. His head was throbbing. He had drunk too much, way too much. He had forgotten how powerful Ahmar de Heme could be. He could feel Dayna's dreams; he had never been able to do that before. His wrist hurt. He brought it up to look at it. There was a gash across it. He then looked down to Dayna. Her neck had been bitten several times. That's why he could feel her dreams -- they had exchanged blood. He damned himself inwardly. He had broken his promise to himself that he would never exchange blood with Dayna until the time was right. Now he had betrayed her trust. He disengaged himself from her and went over to the gun rack. There he took out the first aid kit, and repaired the damage to his wrist. Then he repaired the damage to Dayna's neck. He then took a pain killer, one strong enough to affect a vampire, and his hangover went away. He picked up his clothes, sat down on the couch and started to dress. Dayna's eyes flickered open. "Where are you going?" "I thought it would be best if I dressed. Avon, Cally and Vila are due back, remember?" "Wouldn't it be nice if they could stay away for one more day?" she said dreamily. "Do you feel any different from last night?" Tarrant asked her. "I feel the same, why?" "You don't feel hungry, do you?" "I would like to sink my teeth into a cheese omelet, why?" "No reason, no reason at all," he said, hoping that she had forgotten. He leaned down and kissed her. She pulled him back down on the couch with her, and he let himself forget about what happened the night before.    Avon looked down to the flimsy that Orac had printed up for him; it listed the location of the places that Tarrant had frequented regularly when he had been stationed here. This would be the sixteenth place he'd visited -- the others hadn't been much help. In fact, he couldn't find anyone who could even remember Tarrant, let alone want to talk about him. But this was the last place he would try before going back to the Liberator, and he hoped that he could get lucky here. Avon found the place. It was far inside the city, kilometers away from the tourist districts. It was a bar, named in the local dialect the Ptica-Malvros. He went inside. There was live music, and a very crowded dance floor. He went up to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender looked him over warily, but served him. Avon stood there for several minutes, nursing his drink, surprised that no prostitutes came near him. He thought they were features in places such as this. "Would you like another drink?" the bartender asked, his voice silky. He had an accent that Avon couldn't place. "Yes, please." Avon turned towards him, and handed him his glass. "I was wondering, an old friend of mine used to come in here a few years ago. Do you know him?" "That depends. What is the name of your friend?" "Captain Del Tarrant." "Sorry, no." The bartender filled his glass, then he went over to a tall elegant woman smoking a spice stick, and whispered something to her. She looked over at Avon, taking a drag on her spice stick, then handed her drink to the bartender. She walked over to Avon. He wondered if she were going to try to pick him up; she was so exotically beautiful that he might just let her. "It is my policy not to allow blasters in my establish- ment." The woman also had an accent, this one French. "So this is your place," Avon said levelly. "Yes, and if you want to stay here, you'll give me your blaster." "Perhaps." "Laslo told me that you were asking questions." She took another drag of her spice stick. "I have a pilot who recommended that I come here." "Oh really?" She moved closer to him. Her dark eyes sparkled with interest, yet again he found her very attractive. "A pilot. What is this pilot's name?" "Del Tarrant." The woman looked into his eyes, and he felt his will melt away. "What is your name?" "Kerr Avon," he answered, trying to fight it, but the words came out anyway. "Are you Federation?" "I'm on the run from the Federation." "What is your ship's name?" "The Liberator." "I see. Blake's ship." She paused. "Why do you ask about Tarrant?" "I think he's a vampire." "And what's so wrong with being a vampire?" "Vampires killed my parents. If I found out he was one, I would kill him." "I see. You blame an entire species for the crimes of a few. Kerr Avon, come with me; you have a lot of learning to do." She took his hand and he found himself going with her. He found himself in an apartment on the bar's second floor. She led him into the bedroom, and pushed him down onto the bed. She took his blaster off, and put it in a safe, then sat down beside him and opened up his tunic. As she freed up the rest of his clothes, she began to talk to him. "You must learn a lesson, Kerr Avon. My friend Tarrant is an honorable man who just happens to be a vampire. You must learn the struggle he has to live through just to pass as human. Now, you wish to make love to me." "Yes," Avon gasped. She smiled triumphantly at him, then leaned down and kissed him. Avon found his arms going around her, pulling her down to him, holding her tightly. The love making seemed different than it had with any other woman. Right before climax, she rolled him over onto his back, and straddled him. She bit down into his neck, and she drank until he felt so dizzy that he wasn't sure what he was doing, but he knew one thing -- it felt good. Finally she moved away from him, bit her wrist, and placed it against his lips. When she commanded it, he drank. The rest of the night seemed to be one long chain of love making and sharing of blood. Finally, when it was dawn, she let him sleep. When Avon woke, it was dark again. The first thing he felt was an intense hunger that filled his entire being. He looked up to the woman who was standing beside the bed, dressing. "What is it, mon cher?" Her voice was like silk. "What's happened to me? Why am I so hungry?" "You've changed. You are now what you hated. Now you will see that we're not all monsters." She took a wine bottle off the table and handed it to him. He could smell the liquid inside of the bottle. It was blood! Revolted, Avon tried to give it back to her. "I can't drink blood!" "You will drink, or you will die, it's your choice." The roof of his mouth began to hurt, and he felt his teeth actually grow. His hunger overcame his inhibitions, and he drank. The woman took the bottle from him, then stared into his eyes, and he felt his will melt away again. "You will get up and get dressed." He did. "You will forget about crossing over, about us sharing a night together, until your hunger is such that it overrules everything else. Then you will remember. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand." "I have a message for you, to give to darling Del. Tell him that his Janette will never forget him." Avon blinked. He was back in the bar, but he suddenly realized that the woman was dressed in a different dress, though everything else seemed to be the same. "Is there something wrong?" "I'm not sure. Everything seemed to fade out for a second," Avon admitted. "Is everything all right now?" "Yes, it's fine." "Laslo does serve potent drinks. How about another on the house?" she offered. She smiled at the bartender, who grinned deviously at her, then filled Avon's glass. "I'm sorry that I couldn't have been of more service. I hope you find your friend."    Tarrant had given his blood to Dayna: she would become a vampire. The thought kept pounding in his mind. She would someday begin the turn and it was his fault. He had put her life in danger for a few minutes of passion. He had made Dayna his lover in the true vampire sense of the word. His blood had forced a close bond between them, a bond he wasn't quite sure he was ready for. Tarrant knew that there was only one solution: that he leave her. He would pack his things and be out of here before she went off watch. The questions could come later. Dayna came into the room. She looked at the suit case, and in a small voice that wasn't quite her own, said, "Why are you leaving me?" "You wouldn't understand." "Is it me?" "Of course it isn't you." "Perhaps if you told me, I would understand." "I let you taste my blood. I was afraid if I stayed here, Avon might find out about our sharing blood and kill you," he confessed. "Avon won't touch me. I can more then hold my own. I am the best fighter on the ship," Dayna said firmly. "That you are. Why did you return to our cabin so early? You still have two hours left of your shift." "I don't feel too good, so Cally relieved me," Dayna said. "How exactly do you feel?" Tarrant asked, concerned. "My teeth hurt; I feel as if I've been awake too long. There's something else, I'm starving. It isn't for food, but I can't figure out what I want." "You're going through the change; you need to sit down." Dayna sat down. "What is the change?" He couldn't look at Dayna, instead he concentrated on what he had in his suitcase. "You're becoming what I am. You're turning into a vampire." "I didn't know that kind of thing could happen." "It is. To you." "How did it happen?" "We shared blood. My blood's the thing that's making your body change. It's almost like a virus. Our blood bond is what made you seek me out once you had started the change. You had no choice. I'm sorry, Dayna, so sorry. I didn't want to turn you into a vampire, but I was drunk. The wine brought out my true feelings for you. I wouldn't have done it if I was in my right mind. I'm so sorry." Guilt washed over Tarrant like a stream. "Is that why you're leaving?" she asked. "Don't you see I must? I destroyed your life." "You can't go back again, just forwards. Please don't leave." Tarrant looked into Dayna's eyes. She needed him; it wouldn't be right if he left. "All right, I'll stay." "Being a vampire isn't that different from humans is it? I'll have to accept this change. What can I drink now that Avon's shut off the blood supply?" Tarrant opened up his secret wall panel and took out a bottle of Ahmar de Heme. He opened up the bottle, then poured and handed Dayna a glass. "This will have to be your blood supply until we can get some real blood." Dayna drank the wine. She then looked up to him, and handed him her glass for more. For the first time, Tarrant noticed that her teeth were extended.    Kerr Avon had been working the evening shift at his job at records. It was soon after his graduation from university. He came home early from work. Home was a one bedroom apartment that he shared with his brother Damian. The lights were off in the sitting room, but there was a light on beneath the bedroom door. He went into the bedroom. His brother was in bed with a tall thin vampire with long curly hair. He could tell from the doorway that they were both nude. The vampire was biting Damian on the neck. He had blood dribbling down his chin, and he was arched back in ecstasy. "What the hell is going on here?" Avon demanded. "Get out of here!" Damian's voice was strange, inhuman. "I won't leave until you tell me what's going on!" Damian got out of bed. "I told you to get out of here!" "You're a vampire! You're one of those monsters that killed our parents!" Avon started to back up towards the door. Damian grabbed Avon by the shoulders, then he looked him in the eye. "You must forget you ever saw me like this." Avon pulled away from him. "When did this happen? Did that thing do this to you?" Damian glanced back at the vampire lying in the bed. "Of course he didn't. I was born a vampire." "No. If you were, then I would be a vampire too." "It doesn't always happen that way in mixed unions, especially with twins. One twin is always a vampire, the other has recessive genes." Damian looked into Avon's eyes. "Father was a vampire. Can't you remember? You must remember, Kerr!" "Father was never a vampire! He was human!" Avon pulled away from his brother. "That thing's done something to your mind. You must get help. There is treatment for this, you can be cured." "I don't want to be cured. You don't understand, Kerr, this is what I am." "I want you to take your things and get out of here. If you're here in the morning, I'll kill you." "You don't understand... " I understand well enough!" Avon snapped. "Vampires killed our parents. Now you're one of them! You must go and get cured." "I'm sorry, Kerr." Damian's pink eyes were sincere. "I can't change what I am." In the morning, Damian's things were gone. Damian tried a few times in the next week to talk what he called some sense into Avon, but Avon wouldn't listen to him. Soon after that, he moved off world. Avon never saw his twin brother again.    Avon leaned back in his console chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired, very tired. It had been a long time since he thought of his brother. It seemed as if he had been on watch for days, not a few hours. And his brother... Why did he suddenly feel some sympathy for him? He reminded himself that Damain had willingly become a vampire, but for the first twenty-two years of their lives, Kerr and Damian Avon had been inseparable, and Avon was beginning to regret breaking all ties with him. You're getting too sentimental in your old age, he thought. "Zen, run the check again," Avon said, leaning back in his console seat. "What kind of test are you running this time?" Vila asked as he came onto the flight deck. "That's none of your business," Avon snapped. "Have you ever thought that perhaps I could help?" Vila pointed out. "I'm having Zen see if he can detect any vampires on the Liberator with his sensors." "Test results negative," Zen intoned. "There are five life forms on the Liberator, all human." "Can you detect any Auron life forms on the Liberator?" "Negative." "That doesn't make sense. Why isn't Zen picking up Cally?" Vila asked. "Because Zen has been tampered with!" Avon touched the communicator panel. "Cally, can you meet me in the med unit?" "I will be right there," Cally told him over the communicator. "You're going to have to come to the med unit with me," Avon told Vila.    Three hours later, Vila sat on one of the med unit's exam tables. He wore a hospital gown, which was offset by a large bulb of garlic and a crucifix that he wore on a chain around his neck. Avon ran test after test on Vila; he had to make certain that Vila wasn't a vampire. Cally was assisting by doing the blood work by hand, for if someone had reprogrammed Zen, then they couldn't trust any of the computers on the Liberator. The aroma of Vila's garlic was beginning to make Avon nauseous. Finally he snapped, "Why are you wearing that during the exam?" "I have to wear it, if I want to stay safe," Vila said. "Avon and I are your friends," Cally reminded him. "We would not hurt you." "This investigation might be a trick. Avon could be the real vampire!" "Vila, Avon and I have been lovers for the past six years. If he had been a vampire, surely I would have discovered it by now." "Perhaps you're in on it, too. Perhaps you're both vampires, and you want to eat me!" "We do not want to eat you." "I'm going to stay safe! I'm going to keep my garlic. It's worked against vampires, I've never been bitten by one, have I?" "That's because you stink too much to let anyone close to you. And this is too much." Avon picked up Vila's cross. He felt a slight burning, almost as if the cross had been inside an oven. The longer Avon held it, the hotter it got. Finally he dropped the cross and looked down to his fingers -- they were burnt. He decided not to comment on it, because knowing Vila, he just might have put the cross in the oven. "You know, you should have examined the crew when you first started to suspect there was a vampire on the Liberator," Cally said. "Perhaps I should." "Why didn't you?" "I was going by the medical records in Orac's memory and I had run checks on the crew with Zen. It was only when Zen stopped noticing that you were Auron that I realized there was something wrong. Cally looked up from her blood work. "I have finished with Vila's blood work; all the tests have come back positive." "Positive!" Vila yelped. "I'm not a vampire!" "You're perfectly normal." "Perfectly normal human, or perfectly normal vampire?" Normal human of course. Now put your clothes on, and go back to the flight deck. It is your watch, after all," Cally reminded him. After Vila had left, Cally went over to the med unit door and locked it. "I did not tell Vila the complete truth." "Why didn't you?" "I didn't want to panic him." "Is Vila a vampire?" Avon demanded. "Not exactly." "Then what exactly?" "The tests that I gave him reveal that he has vampire antibodies." "Then he's been bitten by a vampire," Avon said. "He is a recessive vampire," Cally said. "One of his parents was a vampire. But he is perfectly human. It won't be until he dies that he will become a vampire." "I don't understand. Vila is a delta. All vampires on Earth are alphas." "He once told me that his mother had been a maid. Perhaps she worked for an alpha, who seduced her, then discarded her when she became pregnant. If that hap- pened, Vila would have been raised a delta, wouldn't he?" "Of course he would." Avon paused. "I wonder what made him so terrified of vampires?" "Perhaps he has some deep-rooted memory of childhood that has made him afraid." Cally paused. "Should we run another test?" "No, not today. I'm not feeling well," Avon admitted. "I think I'll take a nap." If I swallow anything evil Put your finger down my throat If I shiver please give me a blanket Keep me warm Let me wear your coat. No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes. 'Behind Blue Eyes' By Pete Townshend Avon sat huddled on his bed. Wave after wave of hunger swept over his body. He had to control himself, had to control. He had always been a man of great control, now everything had changed. He couldn't even control his own life, for what he hungered for was blood. The urge to feed was beginning to take over everything. He knew that if only he could control himself, the urge would go away. There was only one problem: the noise, the heartbeats of the rest of the crew, were like many drums, all pounding in different tunes. The heartbeats only reminded him of his hunger. He had tried covering his ears, but the noise wouldn't go away. He could hear someone coming down the hallway. Then the door to his cabin was opened and shut. The person got closer to him, until the heartbeat was deafening. He couldn't be seen this way. He pulled himself into a ball, and said, "Go away." Instead of going away, the person sat down on the bed and touched his shoulder. There was a slight itching in the roof of Avon's mouth, and his canines began to grow. "I know you don't want to think of yourself as human, but even you can get sick, Kerr." Avon couldn't tell who the voice belonged to, the heartbeat drowned everything out. He just knew that it was becoming impossible to control himself. "Leave before it's too late." Instead of going away, the person forced him down onto his back. Cally stared horrified at Avon's face. "Great goddess, what has Tarrant done to you?" "Tarrant didn't do this to me," Avon gasped. "Then who?" "I'm not sure." "Then Tarrant could have done this." Then it all came back to him, how he had become a vampire. "No, a woman did this to me." "A woman. When did it happen?" Cally demanded. "When we were on Velka Six. I went to a bar to see if anyone knew Tarrant. The owner seemed to, then she looked into my eyes, and the next thing I knew, she had taken me to her apartment. She gave me her blood." "Why didn't you tell me about it?" "She made me forget until I became so insatiable that I couldn't control my hunger," Avon explained. "We need to get you to the med unit." "There is no cure for vampirism; it transforms your DNA. I can't go back," he said, suddenly feeling very alone. "I'm a vampire. I'm one of those monsters that killed my parents." "It isn't your fault. You're a victim," Cally tried to reassure him. "I'll go get you some blood. No one need ever know you are a vampire." "You forget, I put a voice lock on the med unit computers. It will take Orac to free them," Avon sighed. "It doesn't matter anyway. If I control myself, I won't need to feed off blood." "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," Cally said firmly. "If you don't drink blood, you'll die." "You don't know that." "During my exile, I worked with a resistance movement. One of the rebels was a vampire. When he didn't get enough blood, he starved to death. It was a death I would not wish on Servalan. I won't let you die." "I'll have to go to the flight deck. I need to get Orac." "I will come with you." "No. Go to the med unit. When the blood's freed up, Orac will contact you. Then bring me some blood." Cally met his gaze, her hazel eyes worried. "Are you sure you can handle yourself?" "I'm positive." He could feel Cally's will bend towards his. "I'll be fine, trust me."    The trip to the flight deck seemed endless. Avon had never realized how far it was from his cabin to the flight deck. When he finally got there, he could feel a presence; it was almost telepathic. There were two somethings on the Liberator flight deck. He stood near the entrance for several minutes, unsure if it was safe to go on in. Then his hunger overcame him, and he went. He walked straight over to Orac and inserted the key. "Orac, I want you to free up the supply of blood in the med unit." "I am busy doing computations. You will have to wait," Orac said matter-of-factly. "I said do it!" "State reason for need." "If you don't do as I say, I'll have you disassembled for parts," Avon thundered, punching the table beside Orac so hard that his hand went through it. Dayna rushed over to him. "What's wrong?" Avon looked at her, his fangs bared, and she stepped back a couple of paces. "Nothing's wrong." "Like hell nothing's wrong." Tarrant went over to him. "You weren't a vampire before today." "Perhaps I hid it." "I would have known; we can tell our kind." Avon sank against Orac. Tarrant picked him up and carried him over to the couch, where he sat him down. Avon was surprised by Tarrant's strength. The only thing Avon could say was, "You don't have to treat me like a child." "You're almost dead from starvation." Avon looked into Tarrant's eyes, for the first time realizing that Tarrant wasn't evil, but simply a victim "How did you become a vampire?" Tarrant asked him softly. "On Velka... I went to a bar. There was a woman there. She turned me into this; she said that I had to learn a lesson." "The woman, what was her name?" "Janette." "If it was Janette, you were very lucky to come out alive," Tarrant told him. "She's very protective of our kind." "You know the woman that turned Avon into a vampire?" Dayna asked. "She's a friend of mine. We go back a long time -- a very long time." "Step away from Avon!" Cally ordered. She came onto the flight deck with a gun pointed at Tarrant. Vila was beside her, also armed. Tarrant raised his hands and moved away from Avon. "You should know that that kind of gun doesn't work on me." "Shall we try it?" she asked sarcastically. "Cally was right," Vila said. "You are a vampire, Tarrant. Not only that, you turned Avon into one simply because he got too close to your little secret." "I didn't turn him into a vampire," Tarrant insisted, and looked down to Avon. "Are you all right?" That was enough for Cally. She shot Tarrant, and when he didn't fall, she shot him again. He turned to face her. She shot him again and again, but he didn't fall, just staggered back a couple of steps. "Stop it, both of you!" Dayna said. She got between Tarrant and Avon. "Move out of the way, Dayna!" Cally said. "I am going to make this monster pay for turning Avon into one of his kind." "You'll have to go through me to get to Tarrant." Cally re-aimed her gun, and Avon could tell from her expression that she was going to kill Dayna. He was very surprised when Vila pressed his gun against Cally's neck. "Drop the gun, Cally." Cally dropped the weapon. Dayna went over and got it. Vila then lowered his gun. "Why, Vila?" "My parents were killed when I was very young. I was separated from the rest of my family by people like you, people who cannot accept that there are those who are different from you," Vila said. "If you kill Tarrant, then you will have to kill Dayna, then me. Because you see, my father was a vampire. He was a good man, but he was killed because he chose to marry a human, so I have vampire blood within me. I'm amazed that your tests didn't show that." "They did, but we didn't know you knew it." "The Federation tried to condition it out of me, make me a delta, but conditioning's never worked on me." "Then why did you wear the garlic?" Dayna asked. "The way Cally and Avon were going on, I had to protect myself. Pretending that I was terrified of vampires made them think that I wasn't one." "But you're not a vampire." "I am a vampire; I just haven't gone through the change yet. That will happen the day I die." Tarrant looked over to Cally. "If you have any blood with you, I suggest that you give it to Avon." Cally brought a bucket over to Avon, then sat down beside him. "How can I do this without making a mess?" Avon asked Tarrant. Tarrant showed him, and Avon fed. He was so hungry that he wasn't revolted. Instead, the blood felt good to him. When he was done, Avon told Cally, "Tarrant didn't turn me into a vampire. We're both victims" "Tarrant is not a victim of anything." "But he is. He is a victim of my prejudice. I can't condemn an entire species simply because a few killed my family. It would be like blaming all humans for the Federation. If I had left Tarrant in peace, instead of hunting down every lead about him, I would still be human." He took Cally's hand. "If you want to blame anyone for my becoming a vampire, blame me; it's my fault." "How do you feel now?" she asked him. "Much better," he told her. "I'm still not sure how I'm going to live like this. I don't know how much food I should take during a feeding, and my new strength... Look what I did to that table." "I don't think that table is ever going to me of much use again." Cally smiled at him. "You're going to need a teacher, Avon, someone that can show you how to live the life of a vampire. Someone that could show you that you don't have to be evil, don't have to destroy villages." "But who would do something like that for me?" "I would," Tarrant volunteered "Why would you help me?" Avon asked. "I remember when I turned, my brother Brendon helped me," Tarrant explained. "You don't have a brother to help you. So you'll need my help." "What's the catch?" Avon asked suspiciously. How much is it going to cost?" "The price is simple. Free up the blood supply so that everyone can use it, and I'll help you learn to survive." Avon looked up to Tarrant, whose blue eyes were sincere. "You've got a deal."