The Fireborn Chronicles: Bat In The Moon * a Prequel (Author's Edition Book 5)

By Mary Andrews

"Consider the history of monsters. Where did they come from? Where did they go? Do we think them extinct because we no longer see them? Or do they walk among us--evolved into something more?"--Eric Barrows.

A massive asteroid bearing down on Earth is unstoppable and with little more than half a century left, an infallible set of Oracles--Roma triplets, mere teens-- enact a world-wide plan to evacuate the planet. And Eric Barrows, the last vampire on Earth, is coerced to build the first base on the Moon. When he finishes, he's expected to act as vanguard to save the very people who destroyed his kind--Book 5: a prequel to The Fireborn Chronicles

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Andrews
• Release date: Jul 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463242391

Mary Andrews

Mary is the eldest of seven children, the mother of three now scrapping young men, and the grandmother of four fine grandchildren--three boys & three girls.She has built the cabs of Cat graters and refitted the tails of Cobra helicopters. She's delivered messages to and from doctors, and done electronic assembly.She has been a relay operator for the deaf, a cell phone customer service rep, a puppet maker, a licensed airframe mechanic, the editor/founder of Gorbash (a now defunct magazine for aspiring artist and writers in the 80's), the fourth director of 25+year old Write Right Critique Group (WRCG) AND a Gypsy merchant...but all she's really ever wanted to do was write...and get published.She saw her dream come to fruition with the publication of her first science fiction novel, THE FIREBORN CHRONICLES by Swimming Kangaroo Publishers way back in 2007.Though the original version of FIREBORN FOUND is still available in print, Mary has opted to slightly tweak and republish an author's edition featuring the art of Kathleen Cavazos.So far Mary's published titles include:book 1: The Fireborn Chronicles: Fireborn Found(Authors Edition: republished in eBook and print)book 2: The Fireborn Chronicles: Resonances(Authors Edition: print & eBook)book 3: The Fireborn Chronicles: Revelations(Authors Edition: eBook & print)book 4: The Fireborn Chronicles: Lamentation(Authors Edition: print & eBook)book 5: The Fireborn Chronicles: Bat in the Moon*A Prequel* (Author's Edition: print & eBook)More of The Fireborn Chronicles series information and buy sites are available athttp://www.FirebornChronicles.comFireborn Chronicles series:https://www.Smashwords.com/books/search?query=MaryAndrews

Book preview

The Fireborn Chronicles:

Bat In The Moon

*A prequel*.

By

Mary Andrews

Table of Contents

Dedications

Title Page

Quote

Chapter One

Chapter Five

Chapter Ten

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Sixty

About the Author

Excerpts

More Information

Chapter One

Consider the history of monsters. Where did they come from? Where did they go? Do we think them extinct because we no longer see them? Or do they walk among us—evolved into something...more?–Eric Barrows,

Eric Barrows slid to a halt beneath a vine-laden archway. Crouched within a rooftop moon garden, hidden among trailing white flowers, he waited. Enshrouded in night shadows, with barely a surface awareness of the sweet scents and beauty concealing him, he listened.

Nobody could’ve followed him this time, but for the last week and a half, they’d done just that. He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. This was taking a toll he could no longer afford.

Three feet away, a glint of light from the barrel of an all too familiar disrupter caught his eye. Early on, a single blast from one like it had scrambled his concentration enough to cause him to revert to his true form. Only his opponent’s stunned reaction allowed him to escape. Eric’s focus shifted to the dark-clad figure wielding it.

We can do this all night, vampire, the Psi-hunter told him.

Eric remained frozen in place. How had this happened? He’d heard rumors of the Psi Movement’s pledge to eradicate his kind, of their infamous hunters, and of the creepy Oracles who guided them. They’d only been urban legends. Something to be scoffed at—until now. Preternatural speed and dexterity should have been enough to escape. It wasn’t. His telepathy hadn’t been able to breach their shielding, either. For days, at every turn, the Psi-hunters awaited him, armed and ready wherever he fled. How prepared would they be to face his Draugr side?

Eric slowly rose to his full height and stared down at the man.

The hunter shook his head in warning. You’re the last one. When you surrender, it’s over.

Surrender? They wanted him alive. Eric threw his head back and laughed out loud, then faded, wraithlike, sinking through the rooftop, through the multi-story building, and into the ground beneath it.

This time he moved blindly, even haphazardly. Perhaps they couldn’t follow what even he couldn’t see.

Traveling in this form was dangerously taxing, both mentally and physically. He did so for as long as he could bear before resurfacing to coalesce in a desolate wilderness well outside of the city. In exhaustion, he strove to reassemble himself at an atomic level, back into his tall, lithe, fully clothed human form of choice before collapsing onto a carpet of grass and weeds.

You need to come with me, Mr. Barrows.

It was a woman’s voice this time. Eric lifted his head to better assess the inevitable. She wore the same dark uniform and bore the same weaponry as the other Psi-hunters. In a normal fight he could easily have bested her, but there would be nothing normal about this battle. He let out a long sigh and pushed up from the ground, until he sat cross-legged facing her. So, what happened to your kill-all-vampires policy?

She shrugged and motioned for him to stand. You’re the last, and you’ve been summoned. Since the Oracles are never wrong, there must be some reason to keep you alive—for now. Her sneer broke into a smile. Maybe they’ll hand you back for disposal afterward.

Eric stared at the slender gun trained on him. Clairvoyance. At every turn they’d lain in wait for him, with their smug attitudes and foreknowledge. He couldn’t outrun them, and his attempts to attack, found them equally prepared. There was no way around it. He needed to deal directly with their Oracles. Dusting the dirt and grass from his clothing. Eric stood and smiled. Then, let’s get this over with. Take me to your leader.

* * * *

Eric slid his fingertips along the arm of the only piece of furniture in his barren cell—a cheap plastic chair. They had to be mocking him. No one could possibly believe he would need to weaponize the contents of a room.

This whole situation reeked of a joke he couldn’t fathom. The Psi-hunters who unceremoniously delivered him, kept their thoughts guarded, speaking only when necessary.

This is it. Get in, summarized their total interaction upon arrival. As best as he could tell, they’d immediately packed up and left the building afterward.

Everyone else in the facility was normal. Their thoughts broadcasted a background of useless drivel, which for hours, Eric mindlessly monitored. Other than a delicious thread of nervous fear due to his presence, they behaved as all good little guards should and remained out of sight, relying exclusively on electronic surveillance to monitor him.

Eric grew bored and considered shifting shape or creating a dense fog in the cell. For over two thousand years, he’d preyed on humans, studied, tantalized, and toyed with them—always easily avoiding detection. Now, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind about this group set him on edge. Eventually prudence won out and he remained seated, eerily motionless, a stiff-backed, unseeing figure of inhuman perfection to tantalize his clueless captors, or at least, the screen-watching guards.

The hunter had told him he was the last of his kind. That couldn’t be true. Could it?

He’d thought himself so clever, so attuned to humanity, that he could reshape it, and he had. Throughout time, Eric edged his way into their dreams, their thoughts, their imaginations. All without them ever suspecting.

He inspired fictional, fantastic, wondrous imagery and concepts. Manipulating their perceptions, he turned himself and his fellow denizens of the night into misunderstood underdogs, worthy of salvation, in need of understanding and, of course, love.

He romanticized them, worked his way into the hearts of the young. He created online sites and entire video games to enhance the mythos he inspired through books, movies and legends.

Through his eternally patient efforts, the vampire nation found themselves idolized and—though some of them didn’t appreciated it—the movement continued. Did that make this his fault? He’d brought them from the safety of legend and myth into the harsh spotlight of reality. One by one, they were all exposed and some of them were glad of it.

His brain churned at the thought. What had changed sodrastically, so fast, this could’ve happened? Vampires had become all the rage before he left. He couldn’t walk down the street without some fangirl, or boy, trailing after him, begging to be bitten.

Eventually, it became unbearable. He gave up and sought solitude in the wilds of Mount Rainier National Park, where he’d immersed himself in untainted simplicity and the company of natural things and creatures. That had only been a year ago.

He rested his head against the desolate, bare wall behind his flimsy chair, redirecting his attention to the sound of footfalls in the distance. He tilted his head. One...two...three. Three sets of feet. Two were guards. Who were they escorting? He listened in as they explained all the protective measures in place—for safety and containment.

He inhaled the tincture of fear emanating from their minds and gleaned the newcomer to be a man of importance.

Finally. This had to be the one he’d been waiting for.

The steps in the hallway grew louder. He could smell them, too, but the new person maintained tight control over his thoughts, the same as the Psi-hunters.

Unable to eavesdrop on the man’s thoughts, Eric switched back to using his senses. The newcomer wore expensive cologne. His pace and footfall rang out, deliberate, evenly measured. Someone of authority. Maybe he would be brief and not drag this nonsense out any longer.

Eric raked fingers through his golden-blond hair to look more presentable than his Spartan accommodations allowed. He paused in mid motion. A single moment of concentration could have achieved better results. Had they rattled him, after all?

I’ll take it from here, a voice beyond the door told the guards. They let him pass without discourse. Only their receding footfalls sounding in the distance afterward.

Eric grinned. That this man could demand such acquiescence from underlings denoted power. It was appropriate that a man of authority oversee whatever this was. He would cut to the chase.

The cell door shimmered into a transparent barrier, allowing both prisoner and inquisitor to view each other without risk.

Dr. Geoffrey Hampstead paused at the sight of the last vampire on Earth. We have come to a landmark day on our little planet, sir.

Remaining silent, Eric stared, taking in everything about his opponent, to the smallest nuance. When it became apparent Dr. Hampstead was not going to react, the vampire admitted to a modicum of respect, for his fortitude, at least. Usually, centuries of practice and the very nature of his kind reduced most humans to a quivering mass by this point. This one was unflappable, or was he?

Eric rose and crossed the room at a speed beyond human detection, knowing full well he would appear to have teleported. He paused only long enough to register to the man beyond the door before dissolving, disappearing, and reassembling in the corridor directly behind his opponent.

Geoffrey spun around to find himself eye-to-eye with a preternatural creature of legends. He flinched but managed to camouflage the fumble with speech.

By all rights, Eric Barrows, you should be immediately terminated. The courts have decreed it. The peoples of the world want it.

Eric studied the grey-haired gentleman more closely. He spoke with the deliberate control and manner politicians spent years perfecting, and his wit was quick enough to sustain him, yet he exuded a carefully contained excitement.

But?

Here it comes.

But I feel your demise would be a waste of resources.

Eric raised an eyebrow. Geoffrey’s scent suggested a flicker of apprehension.

The old man’s voice dropped to a bare whisper to ensure if the guards remained down the hall, they wouldn’t overhear them. Are you paying attention?

Shifting his stance to insinuate impatience, Eric considered trying to enchant him. If he could capture the other’s gaze long enough—

Geoffrey recognized and fought off the lure vampiric beauty elicited. It did not seem fair these dangerous, dark creatures should always be so sublimely attractive—men, women, it made no difference. It was disarming. Accepting the truth of that, he looked away to break the inevitable spell before returning his gaze to catch his prisoner’s own grin at his reaction.

I have found a purpose for your kind, he blurted out.

Eric rolled his eyes and eased his stance. A little late, aren’t you?

Geoffrey’s body language reciprocated. Now they would talk man-to-man.

It has taken me a lifetime to develop this concept and amass the resources. It’s not my fault your people grew tired of living.

Enough! To conceal his anger at the remark, Eric turned and stepped away from the doctor in pretense of leaving.

I want to hire you for a long-term mission—on the Moon.

Eric paused. Well, that’s different. He slowly turned to face Geoffrey again. I’ve always had a fondness for the Moon. Let’s talk terms.

Chapter Two

Eric stared across the lunar expanse between the Raven, his home-sweet-oversized lunar lander home, and the almost completed dome. It had taken only ten years. Ten years of silence and solitude. Ten years of guilt and regret that he had still not been able to discover, refute, or even verify the fate of his kind. Ten years of self-imposed penance and pain, but eventually, a sheer sense of accomplishment evolved from the very doing of the project.

Finally, it pleased him to see the Earth’s reflective glow atop the dome nestled within a stadium-sized crater in the distance. The image probably already made a nice postcard somewhere on the big blue planet.

He sighed. Having spent an eternity seeking out challenges of all types on his native world, he marveled at just how much this project had forced him to expand his abilities. It had tested his very nature beyond boundaries even he would not have dreamt possible.

Standing before the exit of his capsule’s decompression chamber, Eric debated whether to don the bulky spacesuit for this, the last night of his solitude. Sure, it made crossing the desolate landscape a little more comfortable, and it was safer, but it was so confining.

He considered shifting into his draugr form. There was nobody around to run in terror at the sight, no matter how massive or repulsive his odorous blue-black form appeared.

He’d be free to revel in a blatant exhibition of the corporeal control he’d achieved, to flaunt it. He’d conquered the Moon itself. No environment, no matter how hostile and unforgiving, could defeat him.

The arrogant keepers of his home world and species had caused changes in him he’d never conceived possible. He doubted any of them could ever stand against him again. With his so-called contract at its end, he was finally free. Using his draugr form would be one last private thumb of his nose to an inattentive, or probably, nonexistent audience who stupidly believed they could control him.

He snatched up the travel case, clicking it open just long enough to make sure he’d replenished his supply of blood and grinned. Tonight, he would dine on O-negative—his favorite. The lid sealed shut with a crisp snap. He shouldered the case and, partially cranked open the hatch so a single turn would release it.

Eric concentrated, or rather, he released his focus, allowing himself to regress to his original form—the one he’d awoken to so very long ago, after his death in ancient Scandinavia. His pulse raced, his senses congealed. His body thickened, turned dense and blackish-blue. He reined in that which dwelt within the regression. It had taken centuries to fully regain control over his own body after emerging from death as a draugr. It was a primal, magical form, a death walker, both liberating and terrifying in the scope of what it could so mindlessly do.

He owed much of what he had become to what he’d learned from that form, but it had always scared him, until he’d reached the Moon.

With massive, blue, clawed hands Eric released the airlock-hatch, retrieved the travel case, and stepped out onto the ramp. Taking only enough time to press the outer airlock door shut, he leapt away.

In one-sixth Earth gravity, the lunar construction site was not far. A few well launched, bounding steps would get him there quickly. He barely noticed the tingling beneath his ultra-dense skin. What was a lack of oxygen, extreme cold, and a sharp change in pressure to the dead? His jailers had been right after all. His very nature made him a precision instrument for this task.

In no more than four high-powered steps, he arrived at the dome’s northern hatch. No matter what form, he would never get use to the lack of sound on the Moon. When he wore the bulky spacesuit, everything sounded hollow and distant. In draugr form, he had to pay more attention, be aware of things around him. He had never considered how much sound contributed to survival. No longer able to hear the metallic grating of the heavy locking wheel grinding into action at the touch of his clawed hand, he relied on sight and the feel of the cold wheel to not rip it asunder. With a final gentle twist, it cranked open.

Eric took a moment to stare at the moonscape, as he always did. He’d been told humans saw only ashen grey or slightly tinctured desolation among the Moon’s many, craters, boulders and rocks, but vampiric eyes were no longer human. Scattered across the powdery ground, were thousands of tiny gem-like flashes of radiant prismatic colors, all aglitter, like stars in the sand. Coupled with the stark black of space and the currently slivered version of the thumb-sized blue-green planet on the horizon, he frequently found himself mesmerized. He drank it in before entering Dome 1’s outermost airlock and unshouldered his case. After tapping the auto-close panel on the wall within, he watched the hatch slide shut and seal in silence.

The hiss of life-giving air sounded. Eric double-checked the pressure gauge on the wall. It dutifully reported the steady increase of pressure, verifying that the environmental control systems had fully kicked in.

With all systems holding true to their designs, Eric allowed himself another moment of satisfaction and admired his handiwork through the transparent walls of the chamber. He’d built a fully functional domed environment in a mere decade—Not bad for his first try.

A flashing, green light signaled permission for him to access the dome. Eric willed his form to shift again, this time to the more acceptable, more humanesque type. After ten years of solitude, he would probably retain this, camouflage among Dome 1’s new residents should he choose to stay.

Over the years he’d played out hundreds of different scenarios of what he’d do next. The work itself had become a challenge, an intricate puzzle to complete. Despite the dangers and circumstances, he’d come to enjoy the doing of it.

He watched his razor-sharp claws shift into human hands. Long, slender fingers would more aptly serve his work this time. Besides, his primal form came with rage issues and a certain lack of dexterity It was not suitable for doing the final touches he needed to complete tonight.

Eric pulled a clipboard from one of the benches lining the little chamber. The list of system checks would probably take the whole work period, no matter how fast he moved. He lay the list atop his case and cranked open the inner door to the dome. Opting to start at the bottom and work his way up, he ignored the uppermost level, destined to serve as public offices and classrooms. Instead, he headed straight to the cargo lift and descended past the bare garden level, the housing level, and directly to the service/security level.

Here, within the throbbing heart of the complex, Eric nodded. From the cement flooring, to the most intricate technological components, he had assembled and modified it to perfection.

One after another, he closed each of the main breakers. Light flooded throughout the entire domicile. When his eyes readjusted, he raised the little clipboard and began to check off boxes.

Basement Lights. Check.

He sidled into the nearby surveillance station and threw another switch. A full array of screens sprang to life. Eric’s fingers flew across the controls, testing each of the base cameras, and scanning each batch of level sensors. That done, he shut down the station, checked off more boxes from his list, and headed to the next stop. It was going to take a long time, and tomorrow, just prior to the first of almost fourteen nightless Earth Standard Days, the dome’s occupants would begin to arrive.

* * * *

With sun filters fully engaged, the main port cover to Eric’s Moon habitat slid lazily aside at his touch.

Eric interlocked his long, slender, fingers and, raising his arms as far over his head as possible, stretched his entire body all the way to his toes. He suppressed the usual annoyance that his captors had not cared that he could touch the ceiling when doing this. Standing a full six-foot-three inches, he hated having to duck under the low doorways, too.

Had this been an intentional feature of his capsule-prison? Probably, but it was odd that they’d provided him with far more space than he needed otherwise. He shook his head. After thirteen hundred years, he’d allowed this to happen. It was his own damned fault.

He set the capsule’s computer to activate the lunar day countdown instead of waiting to manually do so later. Lunar days tended to sap his energy. They didn’t incapacitate him, but he preferred to plan around them with a lighter workload, less travel, good downtime, and indoor projects. Over the years he hadn’t told his captors any of this. He had, managed to make mention of Vampire Fatal Sun Syndrome in passing. It made them happy to think he was vulnerable. It made him happy to know otherwise. Everyone won.

Slicking back shoulder-length, blond hair, he began his day, as usual. The cold storage unit yielded a packet of pre-thawed blood, not very delectable, but probably more than what he had a right to expect. He pierced the base of the sealed spout atop the blood bag with his fangs, a poor substitution for the sensation of puncturing the carotid of a living being, but good practice for precision. He casually drained it and tossed it into the recycle chute.

So far, his captors had kept up their part of the arrangement. Fresh shipments of life sustaining blood and building supplies had arrived like clockwork and he, in turn, had built them what they wanted. Today, the first of its inhabitants—probably technicians and engineers—would land to inspect his work.

Eric extracted another bag from the unit.

From across the room, the communication station crackled to life. A round, jolly-faced human, wearing a bulky spacesuit filled the viewscreen. "This is Base Shuttle 1 calling Lunar Lander, uh Raven. You hear me down there?"

It had not escaped his notice that they scheduled the arrival of humans to coincide with the Lunar sunrise. He yawned. They’d probably assumed the new colonists would be safer beneath the scorching hot sun than a two week-long night with a vampire. They could be right, too. He hadn’t had much exposure to people lately.

Eric downed the second bag of blood to look rosy for the inbound humans. He’d heard no reference to his presence here in any of the intercepted reports and signals he’d managed to wrangle. Who knew what these people had been told? Either way, the pale, scary look had to be out of vogue.

He clicked on the vid-feed and smiled pleasantly at the camera. Welcome to the Moon, gentlemen. I think you’ll like what I’ve set up for you, here.

The jolly pilot grinned from ear-to-ear. I’m dying see it.

Possibly, Eric thought.

Chapter Three

The shuttle’s quiet descent and landing placed it a short distance from their crater-embraced habitat. Having already activated the protective iris atop Dome 1, Eric had left all systems up and running for them. They’d have no problem finding their way in, but he still left an offer to remain in contact in case any problems arose. Since lunar dawns were sudden, he assumed they’d be anxious to reach their base.

The pilot’s voice resumed afterwards. That went well enough.

Eric sighed. Had he expected otherwise?

"Congratulations, Shuttle 1. Will you need transport to the base?"

An overly quick response shot back. No! No, thank you. I think everyone here’s been looking forward to a moonwalk and we’re not so far away from the north entrance. Right?

Correct. Eric cranked up the zoom on the oversized window viewscreen. How many passengers are you carrying?

I’m shuttling them from the orbital transport a dozen at a time. As anxious as they are to get down here, I should be able to deliver them and all their supplies in an Earth day or two.

On the screen, in high resolution, the cargo bay door slowly opened and a group of fully-suited people emerged. At first, they clustered together, taking turns experimenting with movement in the Moon’s low gravity. Eric chuckled at their playful antics. They hopped and bounded about like children. Some things about the Moon were just plain fun. Deceptively so, because of its dangers, but still what was life without wonder?

Before long, they responsibly returned to the vessel to gather up three long, probably heavy, containers enshrouded in bulky netting. This was where the low gravity would really come in handy. Breaking into groups of four, they collectively hauled their payloads toward the North entrance of the dome.

With the lunar sunrise so imminent, I left outer compression chamber doors unlocked, Eric added. You might remind them to wait for automated approval before entering the inner chamber, though.

I’m sure they’ll appreciate that. I’ll relay the message for safety’s sake, but they’re a pretty knowledgeable group from what I’ve seen. Well trained, too.

The fat, little ship’s cargo bay door closed in slow motion until it could no longer be discerned from the main body.

Well, I’m off for another batch. I guess they’ll get in touch with you if they have any problems.

No doubt. I’m easy enough to find. Safe skies.

The vessel lifted, quickly and surely, from the ground and zipped away.

Eric returned his gaze to the little party gathering around the hollowed-out base of the crater where the dome’s main external entrance was located. He chuckled as they crammed themselves and their baggage into the compression chamber. Some of them even clambered onto the boxes, utilizing them as a third row of benches.

Must not be carrying many breakables.

The last man in, wrestled with the wheel-shaped hatch lock. Though his bulky gloves were designed to accommodate his needs. He seemed to be having some problems. Eric found himself laughing out loud until it became hard not to notice the way they all kept turning toward the direction of his capsule-home beyond the transparent chamber walls.

Eric scowled. If they were so knowledgeable and afraid of him, they should’ve used the northwest loading dock ports. He leaned back and propped his feet atop the crate he kept exclusively for that purpose.

So, it began.

For the next two days, both men and women arrived and disembarked from the shuttle. After the first batch, the new masters of Dome 1 sent out transports to ferry them through the blazing lunar daylight, directly into the loading docks and away from his prying eyes.

That Earth Control made no effort to contact him was strange, but since his nourishment supplies were stocked for a month, it didn’t really matter. Soon enough they’d approach when they needed him.

On the intensely bright evening of the third Earth Standard Day, Eric, immersed in the pages of a book, lounged with one leg draped over the arm of his command chair.

An abrupt buzz from the com center ruptured his silence.

Main screen on, he called out, and the virtual tapestry on his living room wall faded away to be replaced by a fiery-haired young man, in his early twenties.

Uh, hello...uh, sir. I’m calling to report our occupancy of Dome 1 and to thank you for the...uh...fine job you’ve done.

Raising his gaze to engage the interloper, Eric drank in the unabashed look of terror on the young man’s face. As he spoke, his words rolled thick as honey off his tongue. It’s always nice to be appreciated.

The young man’s hand jerked away, disconnecting the link.

Knowing full well it had not been a wise thing to do, Eric burst out laughing. What would he have done if I’d bared my fangs? Afterward, all Dome 1 requests were relayed by a boring young attendant, Barry, who claimed to be the Head of Dome Security. He kept their correspondences short and to the point.

While the colonists set about making the great habitat livable, Eric grew bored. Surely, after they’d gotten established and acclimated to their new environment, they’d come to need his services—especially when the mining project started up. Until then, he found himself running short of things to do.

At first, he delved into upgrading his own surroundings. He reorganized the files on his computer, ran maintenance on his com center, and stylized the outer appearance of his capsule while tuning and rearranging the repulsor-nets atop it. Making use of recombination equipment, he managed to improve upon his external radiation protective coating by adding colors.

The place really began to shape up. As a final touch, he tweaked the window viewscreens to sharpen the image resolution of his virtual tapestries which covered them when not in use. He even searched out additional images in varied palettes and styles from the current ones. It was always good to have options.

By the return of the lunar night, his interest in the new neighbors reemerged. He began to study them, like ants in an ant farm. In time, he left the confines of his capsule and spied upon them from the ledges of the great crater surrounding the massive dome. He watched them scurry around, assigning purpose to each of the fabricated buildings on the first level.

They created classrooms, a church, a gym, all sorts of offices, each filled with the proper furniture and trappings. It became a great pastime, of sorts. He also enjoyed watching the solar panels which, mounted atop the adjustable iris within, regulated sunlight and shade as needed.

Eric’s vampiric senses enhanced the surreal dance of its splayed patterns and the colors it produced in the lunar night. He found it soothing. However, with his blood supply dwindling, he would soon have to inflict his presence upon the happy campers within.

Why hadn’t Earth Control contacted him yet?

Chapter Four

In full lunar gear, Eric crouched at the edge of the dome-topped crater’s rim. Since their landing, he’d worn the suit, not for comfort, self-preservation, or even camouflage, but as an added barrier between himself and the deliciously vibrant, living colonists.

Having already taken note of their numbers and even the load-unload time of the shuttles each time the orbital transport returned, he felt certain he could stowaway and work his way back to Earth—if he wanted to. That was the problem. What did he want?

As they clambered from the shuttle, Eric leaned forward. Something was different. He clenched his fists at the realization. The arrivals this time were women and children. He watched, wide-eyed, at their antics. Watched them bounce, fall, and help each other in the Moon’s light gravity, before trying to rush to join their fathers and husbands within.

Eric sighed. Families? They were bringing families? He resumed his self-appointed task at hand, that of inspecting the dome’s exterior. He considered it an elegant way of isolating himself from the teaming humans within. It really wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. From the outside, he could watch them without temptation, much like a television program. There was always something happening in the dome whenever boredom set in.

After completing an inspection, he recognized what had to be a school. Pausing, he watched the little ones pour out of the buildings like baby ants in the rain. He had forgotten the vivacity of children. How they scurried about doing all the things only little ones could conceive to do.

Eric tried to remember back to his youth. Had he ever been as carefree as these sons and daughters of the Dome? For a second, he envisioned vast fields of blue and yellow flowers and the warmth of the sun at the turn of morning twilight.

The memory, if it really was one, faded too quickly. A man tended to forget many things as centuries passed.

So, should I stay, or should I go?

He smiled at the unbidden memory of a popular song from