Ann Wilson

“ Unfortunately, the first reaction to the Kins had been horror. Thompson could understand that, though he didn't share it; psych tests kept people who couldn't overcome such feelings out of Imperial service. He was more intrigued than frightened by the idea of a Kin drinking some of his blood, and according to the journals, most Narvonese had felt the same way after the initial shock had worn off—especially those who'd had friends or relatives affected. ”

“ Thompson outlined what he and King had discussed, feeling more relaxed in her presence than he'd have thought possible the previous night. "So if what Sergeant King read is accurate," he finished, "I can let one of you feed, enjoy it, and still stay with my team."
"It is accurate enough," the Count said, her expression unreadable to anyone without a field agent's training. "Perhaps a tenth of those who are susceptible do not Change into Kins. They do become the best Donors available, though no Kin will risk feeding even from them more than once per tenday." ”

“ Landing openly, even an E-Team had to go through Customs and Health, which was routine enough until a tech told Thompson that he needed blood samples to test for susceptibility to the nosferatu pseudo-virus.
"What's that?" Thompson asked.
"What makes humans into Kins," the tech said, sounding as if he were telling them something they should already know. "If you're susceptible, and if the virus gets into your bloodstream, and if something seriously weakens your system more than twenty-four standard hours later, you turn into a Kin. ”

“ Thompson entered the System Security office complex and approached the desk sergeant, ready to introduce himself, but she stood. "Captain Thompson?"
"Yes."
"Chief Kaufman is waiting for you, sir. To your right, third door on the left." She smiled. "You made a good choice, Captain. She's the best I've ever Donated to."
"How did you know I chose her, rather than the other way around?"
"It's always the Donor's choice, sir. The Kin can ask someone, or pass on a volunteer, but one will never feed on an unwilling Donor." The desk sergeant grinned. "Besides, her Ladyship said you had." ”

“ Thompson tried to keep his face impassive, even though he knew perfectly well that it was useless, with a field agent reading him. Dammit, a man was entitled to his privacy! "By my Lady Count's leave, I must remind her that my responsibilities to my team outweigh my personal desires."
Count Nilssun leaned back with a sigh. "Formality doesn't change things, Captain. You want to feed a Kin, and I have to send a Liaison Officer to the Imperial Palace to represent Narvon System; a Kin who was head of the team sent here to investigate us would be ideal, from a public relations viewpoint. ”

“ Kins overwhelmingly came from groups like doctors, police officers, religious, and others who were devoted to some form of service; none came from criminal or other anti-social elements, and only a few from generally-neutral groups. The approximately one-percent figure the tech had mentioned seemed accurate, so not all members of even the highest-incidence groups were Kins—but it was enough to convince Thompson that such an oddly selective disease called for scientific investigation, rather than military intervention. ”

“ Gottfried was a Class Three, King a Class One, and all the rest were Fours like Nkomo. Also like Nkomo, all of them intended to repeat the experience as often as they were allowed to. "And if you do become a Kin," King told him, "we want you to be the one who feeds from us. Mine said that it's good with any Kin, but best with someone you know and like or respect. And that a custom is developing for a Kin who leads a regular group of Donors to be responsible for taking care of them that way."
Thompson raised an eyebrow. "The Kin is responsible for feeding on @'s people?" ”

“ Thompson was startled at the question, but he nodded. "Yes—a dragon wearing a crown. An Oriental dragon. He ... approves of me."
"The Dragon Prince," Kaufman said softly. "The one who used the virus to make us what we are. He always appears to a new Kin."
"But never, to the best of anyone's knowledge, to anyone else." The Count swore briefly, though only to herself. They had never thought to ask the supposedly-unChanged ones about their dreams, and they—or at least she!—should have. It was stupid to think Change had to bring about a visible change ”

“ The Count signalled a waiter, who approached carrying a tray loaded with foam-topped mugs. "Your records say you have a fondness for New Bavarian beer, something I doubt you can find very often. I can recommend this; it is their Oktoberfest Doppelbock, a brew I enjoyed myself before becoming a Kin."
Thompson didn't doubt that; it was a brew he'd heard quite a lot about, though he'd never been able to afford any. He reached for a mug, shaking his head when Nkomo tried to restrain him. "It's okay, Corporal. I'm in danger of becoming a Kin, not being poisoned. ”

“ I do what I do only because I think it best for my own people."
Returning to his assigned apartment, Thompson changed back into service black. He wasn't sure whether to be angry or flattered at the Count's intentions for him; at the moment, he felt a bit of both. She was trying to take him away from his team, but on the other hand, she wanted him to become Liaison Officer for an entire system—which, being primarily ceremonial in nature, was a less responsible, but far more prestigious, position. ”

“ He saw her nod slightly, and concentrated. "The Empire can't do much about your feeding problem, if you need mostly fresh blood, so that's not it either. Oh!" He nodded, realizing. "You can't deliberately hurt anyone, which means you'd have a hard time defending yourselves from anything, criminals to a full-scale invasion. You need an Imperial military presence, probably a Sub-Sector or Sector-level base. Maybe police, too, though Narvonese who aren't Kins may be able to handle that."
The Count looked pleased. ”

“ Thompson said. "I'm just hungry."
"Hungry enough to eat two breakfasts when you normally don't eat any." King frowned. "Cap—did Carlo pull you away before that detective chief got her fangs into you?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because some of the tapes I dug out—not the ones her Ladyship left for me—say that some susceptibles get hungrier than usual after they've become infected. But if she didn't bite you, you can't be infected."
Thompson set down the coffee cup he'd just picked up, an unpleasant thought forming. "I ... don't know about that," he said slowly. ”

“ King chuckled. "That makes sense, Cap—but if so, it backfired on her. According to the tapes, the ones who get the hungries may become high-class Donors when they're weakened for the Change, but they don't become Kins."
"Oh, yeah?" Thompson grinned in relief. "I can handle that easily enough, especially since it means the team doesn't have to break up. I think I'll ask to see her as soon as we finish eating."
The Count sent word that she'd see him as soon as her morning formal audience was over, so Thompson was waiting in her working office when she came in just before noon. ”

“ The Archbishop had been right in his report that it was the "best people" who were becoming Kins. Not "best" in the sense of richest or most powerful, although some were, but in the sense of contributing most to society. ”

“ Thompson commented. It didn't look like much intervention, if any at all, would be needed—not with the `servants of the Devil' appearing on talk shows trying to reassure people and looking like death warmed over. "What the hell do they do for food, then?"
Sanchez advanced the recording, then started playing it again. "—willing Donors," the detective chief was saying. "We feel pain we inflict deliberately, yes—but we can also project feelings. If somebody's willing to feed me, I can let ... feel the satisfaction—even, if ----'s willing enough, the ecstasy—I do when I feed. ”