Rob Bignell returned to Starfarer’s Cafe this weekend to share a tale from a science station at Tau Ceti. Sometimes a visit from an old friends is unwelcomed – especially when the friend is from a race of alien vampires.

As Tau Ceti rose, a serene brilliance bathed the planetoid observatory. Washing out the scarce stars in the halo, the red ball signaled the shift’s end more dramatically than any computer-driven clock could. A long night of observing the Lagoon Nebula’s crimson glow, its dark cloud always violent, blistered one’s eyes, but the yellow Cetian sun soothed all.

Raphael initiated the telescanner shut down sequence. As his eyes’ throbbing eased, his hands slowed. The red reminded him too much of blood, too much of the past. How many pools of it have I caused, he wondered. Twelve? Thirteen? Somewhere after the first half dozen, he could not keep track.

He breathed gradually, measuredly; that was all behind him. Now he possessed passion, affection, purpose, just as before the dark time. It seemed like a millennium had passed since he’d last felt that way.

Yet, all that blood had brought him peace. At first, he worried others might find out. So he sought a post far from Earth, far from where the authorities would notice him. The few humans on the Cetian base allowed him to quietly assimilate, to relearn his emotions. Now he felt complete, ready to settle in the Sol System, maybe even on Earth itself.

Raphael turned to the central control panel, waited for Addie to finish her tasks there.

She moved with ardor, eyes luminous. He envisioned her to be a fallen angel, forced from the heavens to this mundane rock. Perhaps that’s why whenever he talked of traveling to Earth she’d sigh, remind him it wasn’t so simple.

Addie smiled at him as they watched the grand star climb the room’s solarium.

Sometimes others at the post would arrive with bogus inquiries to eye Addie. With sinuous curves and sable hair flowing past her shoulders, she’d meet their gaze with verdant eyes. Yet, despite her sensuality, he knew she was no epicurean.

Raphael always stopped himself whenever finding himself leering at her. He already had looked too wantonly at too many other beautiful bodies. Part of nullifying that past meant changing the way he saw others, especially those he adored.

“I’m glad to be done with this,” Addie said. “The red makes my eyes spin.”

The room’s door swished open, breaking their admiration of the sun, Raphael recoiled.

Addie took no notice of the alien, preferring to finish the after operations check.

During their months together, Raphael increasingly handled all inquiries. As every room was connected by intercom, she easily realized visitors’ true intentions.

Raphael approached the alien, a Pricolician. Raphael hated them: Their pale, rodent-like heads, their assembly line conception of young in test tubes, their raising of children on farms, their pale complexion thanks to the homeworld’s dim orange star only a few light years from Ceti. A few light years too close, he thought.

The alien’s pupilless eyes, menacing as a dark sky, stared at Addie. How typical of a Pricolician, Raphael told himself.

“The director wants the scanners recalibrated,” the alien said, his voice a hissing drawl.

“That’ll take half the morning,” Raphael said. “Does he recall they were just calibrated two weeks ago and that my last report showed they still work fine?”

“The director wants the scanners recalibrated,” the alien repeated forcefully. His eyes did not leave Addie.

Communication between alien species was difficult, but Raphael knew Pricolicians were humanoid enough that often only a little more explanation was necessary. “The operations checks indicate the scanners are off by only two one-millionths of a percent, well within parameters–”

“You will recalibrate the scanners.”

Something familiar in the alien’s features disturbed Raphael. So many years had passed since last seeing a Pricolician, he wasn’t certain. And just how did this one get on the post? It wore the right badge.

Raphael stepped between Addie and the alien, forcing it to look at him. Was it those eyes, or did all Pricolicians stare that way? “Of course we’ll follow the director’s instructions–”

The alien’s hiss gained a certain acidity. “Of course you will, Raphaelie.”

Raphael looked hard at the face. It was an old Pricolician; even they wrinkled with age. “I just don’t understand why–” Then he stopped, shock washing through him.

It was Upir!

But what was Upir doing here? He had aged much in nine years.

“Just as you didn’t understand why the Code of Final Order could not be broken?”

Upir whispered shrilly. “Just make the recalibration.”

Raphael moved to the central panel, keyed the controls. The orders appeared legit.

Addie slipped into a service room leading to the air lock. Good, Raphael thought, she won’t see what I’m doing.

From a distance, Upir watched. Then he gazed at Tau Ceti’s ascent, but his mouth remained a flat line. “Very soon, I’ll view that every day,” he said.

Lines burrowed across Raphael’s forehead, and he glanced at the alien. “Exactly how did you get on post?”

Upir motioned at the service room’s door. “She also will be mine, every day.”

Redness spread across Raphael’s crinkling face as he turned toward Upir. “You can have the view but not her.”

The alien lifted his hands, each gangly finger curving into a claw after the last joint.

Power emanated from their tips. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He left.

Raphael let go a long breath, but his heartbeat did not slack. An hour. If he and

Addie monitored the recalibration together, they might finish in just that time. No one would be in this section, having gone home deep within the planetoid after another night duty.

Addie stepped back into the main room. “What was that all about?”

“It’s best not to question him when he brings an order from the director. He’s dangerous.”

Addie rolled her eyes. “It’s just an order from the director.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, a new urgency in his words. “I know him, from another assignment, one in deep space. He has special … abilities, can do things, violent things, and leave no trace he was even there.”

Her eyes broadened. “Deep space? Humans never have gone on any deep space missions with Pricolicians.”

Raphael shifted away from her.

She grabbed his wrist, squeezed hard. “Raphael, I heard the tones of voice. What is this all about?”

The door swished again, and a human entered. The operations clerk, to keep records – how many scanning hours, their operating conditions, etc. – a task only the bland-minded bureaucrats would require be done manually. Addie read the numbers smoothly, no cracks or hesitations in her voice. Raphael felt thankful she gave the report; he knew his nervousness would show. How did Upir find me here, he wondered.

Nearly nine years before, they had parted, definitely not as friends. Still, Raphael doubted Upir was so harmed as to chase him across the galaxy. Pricolicians were secretive and unfeeling, and in a universe full of aliens who if knowing any better would not welcome them, they did not trifle with crimes or terrors outside of their own closed world.

The operations clerk left; Addie and Raphael continued monitoring the recalibration, a tedious wait for the computer. Normally, they didn’t mind, would use the time to watch Tau Ceti bathe the station in gold. Addie peered for long spans at the star, but he fretted, shifting from foot to foot.

“Anything planned for later?” she said.

“Nothing really. You?”

“I was thinking sleep, then catching a neuroreel before duty tonight.”

“I can finish up. Why don’t you go, or you’ll sleep right through the show.”

“Well, okay–” She hesitated but left. Raphael sighed gratefully. Now he could confront Upir alone. He watched the recalibration, then the star, contemplated shutting off the lights and shielding the window. Yet there was no place to conceal himself here. Still, he locked the pneumatic door.

He thought of just leaving, but the recalibration could not be left alone. Besides, Upir would just find him somewhere else.

Then he heard banging on the door. An hour had passed; it must be Upir. The door’s two panels separated slightly. Claw-tipped fingers pressed through, gradually pushing the panels aside.

“Didn’t want to let me in Raphaelie?” Upir said.

“I’ve changed, Upir. I won’t help you.”

“You know what will happen if you don’t.”

“I’m not cold anymore, Upir.”

The alien raised his hand like a cat ready to strike. “Yes, Raphaelie, I can see that.

“You’ve got what you wanted. But what of Ala and I? It took all three of us to lure the human spacecraft to that asteroid. You will make amends for what you did.”

“Two of the humans died when the spacecraft crashed – I was the test subject for you two; I volunteered so you would not die if it didn’t work!”

‘‘Then why did you leave us there?”

“It was the jump, it made me mad. I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“You do now.”

“I am powerless. I cannot make the jump anymore.”

“I know.”

“How?”

‘‘The humans sent a rescue craft. Ala was near death. He jumped and after an injury tried again.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted you.”

Raphael stepped back. Sweat beaded across his brow in a way it never could anymore on a Pricolician, except for the very young. He tried to think of something to say.

The alien closed on Raphael, raised his other hand.

“Oh, the Code of Final Order says we are stronger for what we do,” Upir said, that strange sarcastic shrill again in his voice. “We Old Ones always live on. We never have to reteach anything; it’s why we’ve advanced faster than these Earthers. In your human body, do you still remember what it feels like to be immortal, to do what we must to remain so? I am tired of being ‘stronger.’ It … weakens me.

“We will join. That will be my revenge.”

The alien lowered his hands, moved to the computer, pressed a key. He grimaced.

“Why did you do this, Raphaelie? Give me the codes to override the lock-out.”

Straightening, Raphael caught his breath. “I’ve left behind my past. I can’t help you.”

Upir whirled, swung the back of his hand against Raphael’s face. The human fell, landed on his knuckles. He rose quickly but cowered beneath the alien’s cocked arm.

“No one leaves behind that past!” Upir hissed.

Raphael slinked backward, but Upir kept his position, loomed even more with each matching step. “You’ve got it too good here, Raphaelie,” Upir said, raising his pitch. “Humans love one another, mate, feel the bonds of parenthood. They have meaning to their lives, have purpose and quality in their work, all because they die.

“You knew the only way to have that was to become human, so you jumped when the opportunity came. Panicking when you realized what being powerless truly meant, you fled, stranded us there. Well, I deserve what you have, Raphaelie. I am taking your Addie, am staying here with you.”

Nausea swept over Raphael. Upir struck him again and then a third time. Was that ruthlessness in the Pricolician’s dispassionate eyes, Raphael wondered, then his head struck the deck. The alien stopped, spread his arms as if they were wings.

“Why Addie?” Raphael stuttered.

“For the same reason you took this Raphael’s body. She has no family, no friends other than you. Oh, at first I only wanted to replace you, but as I researched, I found taking her so much … sweeter. We can keep our secrets together, and I’ll haunt you to death. Perhaps before then we’ll even become friends again.”

The door whisked open, and Addie stepped through. “My God, Raphael – what’s going on?”

Upir beheld her, stepped away from Raphael. “‘God.’ It’s difficult to believe in one when you live forever. It’s such a human concept. Why don’t you come over here, let me relieve you of all that human pain and turmoil?”

“Stay away from him!” Raphael hollered to Addie as he rose swiftly. She kept her ground, glanced between both of them.

The alien ignored her and Raphael, moved to the control panel. “Well, no matter if you come here or not. I need the entry codes just as much as your body. So, Raphaelie, give them to me.”

Raphael nudged Addie toward the door.

“The entry codes, now!” Upir hissed.

The two humans continued backing up, the door only three steps away.

“You forget, Raphaelie, I know where you are. You can run, but once I report you to the homeworld authorities, they’ll come.”

Raphael and Addie froze. She looked at him. “What did you do?”

Raphael peered back, for a moment admired her feminine beauty. Human hair, the deep skin tones, the tender fingers – they did not take long to fall in love with once you recognized their emotional power, their ability to feel love, passion, remorse. He looked at Upir, tapped his head. “It’s all up here. That’s where it’s going to stay.”

Upir waved his clawed hand. “Oh, that is very good, Raphaelie. It can stay there, but that won’t stop me from ripping out Addie’s soul.”

Addie’s face twisted confusedly, then her eyes widened and mouth gaped.

“Now, Raphaelie, give me the entry codes. You save no one by keeping them.”

Raphael knew he must make his stand to protect Addie at that room. This sense of camaraderie was not something any Pricolician felt, he suddenly realized. They lived by the Code alone, rules intended only to ensure their immortality and to keep their terrifying secrets. Yet, more and more of them had found an eternity of living dried their emotions, their desires. What is there to live for when one always lives?

He stepped forward, drew his fists.

Upir craned his blanched head at the human. Raphael shrunk; has becoming human somehow changed me, he wondered. Certainly Upir knew he could not afford a truly violent confrontation, for others might notice, would interfere, make inquiries.

Upir’s slit mouth curved just slightly. “Actually, taking you, Raphaelie, may not be so bad an idea. Then I can do to Addie what is forbidden on Pricolici. How many years has it been since I last copulated? I’ve lost count.”

Upir stared at Addie, and his slit arched even further. Immortality had made reproduction not simply unnecessary but deadly, and so the Code forbid it – if two Pricolicians touched one another, they would incinerate their neural pathways, leaving nothing but white corpses.

“For the last time,” Upir hissed, “give me the entry codes.”

The alien raised his hands, and Raphael gritted his teeth.

Addie stepped between them. Her voice quivered. “I can give you the entry codes. If I do, will you promise to leave us alone?”

Raphael gasped. “Stay back! You don’t know what he can do to you!”

She ignored him. “Is it agreed?”

The alien’s slit mouth bowed with each passing second. “I agree.”

Addie went to the control panel, tapped several keys. Short beeps indicated denial, but she was adept enough to bypass the codes, even unlock them if given time. Raphael’s hope dissipated with each of her taps. Within a matter of minutes, she’d finish, then Upir would approach her, raise his hands to those lovely temples. She’d scream, scream so loud that if space could carry sound waves, Tau Ceti itself would tremble. Red would drip from her nose, and Upir’s soul would jump as his mindless body crumpled.

“I’ve unlocked the control panel,” she said. “Now what do you want with it?’

Upir’s mouth broadened to a full smile, the kind a hunter wears as standing over its prey, then he stepped toward her.

He doesn’t even say “thank you,” Raphael thought. Goddamned Pricolician.

Raphael leaped in front of Upir. “You’ll have to settle for my body if you get one at all, Upir.”

The alien shot a claw above his pale head, and Raphael’s eyes swelled under the hooks. Then Upir lowered the arm to his side. “No, Raphaelie, keep your human life. You do deserve it for being Pricolician so long. I will have the woman.”

Addie slinked behind Raphael. “But you agreed–”

Upir shoved Raphael to the deck, faced her. “This isn’t about your telescanners. I merely need access to them for the role I am about to assume. Oh, you foolish human! Know that what happens in the next few moments has nothing to do with money or with the fate of worlds. It’s about living, it’s that survival cancels compassion, the great truth we Pricolicians have learned and that I no longer can live with.”

Raphael leapt at Upir, knocked him into the control panel. The alien bounced off the console, faced the human. Raphael avoided the Pricolician’s hands as they struggled, awkwardly kept his temples distanced. Upir struck him with a backhand, flung him to the deck. The alien kicked his ribs then grabbing his collar threw him against the wall.

Addie stood frozen through the fight.

Victorious, Upir turned to her.

Raphael shook his head. “Run, Addie! Get out of here!”

As if hypnotized, she did not move. Upir lifted his hands, like a cat bearing its claws.

Their eyes met. His hooked fingers touched her temples, and she breathed shallowly. He gripped them.

A second passed.

Upir’s black eyes widened, his slit mouth stretched. Addie’s hands gripped his wrists, pulled them away.

Upir stammered. “Why, you once were–”

“Pricolician too.”

Raphael’s eyes jolted to her.

“Centuries of senseless violence sickened me as well,” she said, standing taller than Upir. “We’ve numbed ourselves to it, let every emotion but sadism wither. I wanted to die, too, but it will be at a time of my own choosing. You see, now I have things to live for.”

She wrapped her hands tightly around Upir’s neck, bashed his head into the panel. He stumbled back.

Raphael dove at Upir, struck his jaw full-fisted. The alien fell into the wall. Raphael’s fingers dug into his neck, tossed him again into the bulkhead. Upir slid to the deck, unconscious.

Panting, Raphael gawked at Addie. He wanted to say something but was uncertain what. He tried anyway. “I–”

“You needn’t speak,” she said. “I didn’t know of you either. Perhaps it explains our mutual attraction.”

Raphael nodded as thinking of her words, “our mutual attraction.” But at the moment Upir’s body was more important. “If we don’t kill the murderers, the killing never will end,” he said. “The airlock?” They dragged Upir’s body into the chamber then opened the exterior doors without draining the oxygen. The expelled gas whooshed the alien into frigid space, lifted him toward the heavens. Raphael and Addie gazed at one another. The body outside burst as Tau Ceti laved it in amber.

Rob Bignell is the author of more than 100 books and the owner/chief editor of Inventing Reality Editing Service. He has been writing science fiction since for the past half-century.