Bloodlines

Prologue: The Night Holds No Comfort.

Dedicated to CheralynnFrazier, who has been my greatest fan and muse since we met

The simulated night onboard ship was a dappled multitude of deep black darkness and low, softly thrumming patches of "twilight."
Jung sat in one of the unused group dinning areas, drinking coffee and staring into this miasma of grays. He had never gotten used to this night setting; his internal clock refused to buy it. So he sat, drinking his brew and staring into nothing, his thoughts foreign even to himself.
There was something creepy about the ship during the periods of crew hybernation. He wished the next wake cycle would begin.
He sighed. No chance of that. Next time the crew awoke, the ship's artificial intelligence would already have landed them at the chosen site in Alchamedes, their new home.
His only consolation was that in a week's time, he'd be asleep himself, dreaming and unaware.
Really, he just hated the isolation of being on watch. Why he'd volunteered...just a masochist, he thought and chuckled.
Something caught his attention. A movement in the dark. He shook his head. Wasn't the first time his cabin fevered brain had imagined movement at this time of night.
He grumbled and went back to his thoughts, until a new sensation finally grew to strong to ignore: A smell. Something...musky. Musky and...
He stood up suddenly, "Who's out there?" he demanded, for the other smell had been shampoo. He was certain of it. The shampoo used in the cryobiology tanks. It was automatically applied to keep the hair from becoming a tangled mess.
No one should be out. Not without his authorization, or an emergency override by the A.I.
The musky smell grew stronger, it washed over Jung and made his eyes water, then it began to fade.
He sensed more than saw movement from his right. But when he turned there was nothing and he knew he was alone.
Jung was shaken. It was a crewman...it had to be.
It had to be...
He listened intently, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the table kept tightening.
Finally, his nerve restored after a bout of self-flagellation over being silly, he followed where he thought...the crewman...had gone.
Damn, Jung, what the hell's the matter with you? He berated his cowardice a but more. Afterall, only things on the ship that were alive were the crew, colonists and whatever animals they had in the cryo chambers in the livestock hold. He doubted very much any of them got out. Then again...
He jumped as he heard a sound, a sort of...well, he really wasn't sure. It sounded wet...and like twigs snapping.
Completely losing his nerve, he turned to run when he was picked up and thrown. Before he could recover enough sense to get up, he was struck in the head and his vision darkened and blurred, then he went limp as consciousness fled.