A SLUGGISH MORN

I was swimming through pleasantly warm water. My arms stretched out into the lake and swept back, propelling me upward. My tail--my legs had not yet formed- thrust me faster toward the light that shown through the water from above.
My head broke through the water andinto the sunlight. I blinked once. Twice. I looked about, observing the blues and greens and browns of the plant life both aquatic and land bound, that surrounded me. A bumyum bug flew lazily by. I watched it for a moment, then shot out my tongue and caught it. I rolled my tongue back in, savoring the crunchy sweetness of the flying morsel I had snatched from the air.
I was young. Life was good.
"Wake up, Frazzi."
My mother's voice.
"Wake up!"
I felt a hand shaking my shoulder. I sluggishly roused myself, exchanging the idyllic realm of my youth for another day on a doomed and war stricken world called Earth.
I opened my eyes. The vampiress Marchell stood above me.
"What time is it?"I asked , my speech still a half sleeping slur.
"It's almost sunrise. I must rest soon." Marchell announced."I've already drawn the shades. Do you have a closet."
The grogginess of an early awakening started to melt away as I sat up on my bed.I nodded toward a door in the closet. "Over there."
"Great. repliedthe vampiress. "Please leave the shades down during the day.A precaution. I'll just curl up in here..." She opened the door "Oh. my! " Before her. stacked in the closet, were hundreds of CDs. "You must really like our music."
"You'll note they are all sealed, " I shrugged. "They're an investment. Sort of."
"An investment?" she queried as she began hauling them from the dim closet interior and tossing them across the floor.
"I misunderstood an idiom when I first arrived, "I explained. "It's a long story."
"No matter, " she shrugged as she sent the last of the disc cases skimming across the floor. I need a dark place for the day and it looks like this is it. Call me at sundown."
With that she disappeared inside the closet, slamming the door tightly shut behind her.
I got up and, kicking aside Carrie Underwood and The Pussycat Dolls, made my way to the kitchette. Monkey boys have a morning ritual. followed almost universally in this society, involving the imbibing of caffiene. Like so many of the food related rituals and activities of this world, I approved of this one. Caffiene certainly caused one to raise both sets of eyelids first thing in the morning.
The delivery system of choice amongst the ape sof this world, at least in the morning, is a bitter, hot brew called coffee. Not to my taste.
But there is more than one way to trim the ears of a plebersnote, as the saying goes.
I opened the door of the fridge and pulled out a frosty red can of Coke.I popped open the top and took a swig as I made my way back to my big comfy chair. I settled in, Coke in one hand, remote in the other. The monkey boy life at it's finest....
I pointed the remote at the TV and clicked.Time for my dose of the Daily Blues.

TAPDANCING

"THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS THREE EYED SLIMEY GREEN ALIENS!" Marchell hissed back between extended fangs.
Oh, great. Being caught in the middle between my Blastoid boss and a green eyed creature of the night, both having hissy fits, will never be high on my good time saturday night list. I had to think quickly.
A voice, that of Jim, my monkey boy landlord, came from the hallway, a bit muffled through the door. "Hey, Frazzy, could you keep it down up there. People are trying to sleep."
"Sorry, "I called back. I returned my attention to His Irateness and the Viscous Vixen. "Will everone please calm down?" I asked with a sickening sweetness. To Flurgre, "Look, boss, the Vampires and Werewolves are street gangs. Rival street gangs. Goth culture, or something. They like to play act like they are their favorite monsters. Marchell says it was a Werewolf that killed Glore. She's agreed to help me find the wolf responsible."
"And how do you explain those fangs?"
"Special effects," I deadpanned. I turned to Marchell. "Show him."
The vampiress complied, returning to Earth norm appearance.
"There, see?" I smiled. "These humans do love their little tricks and gadgets."
"She still knows about us."
"So does the werewolf. Much more of a thing to be concerned about." I switched back to galactic common. Flurgre had to be placated." "Send me a mind wipe unit."
Marchell elbowed me. "English, please."
"Oh, sorry," I apologised. "Habit"
Flurgre decided to turn diplomatic for the moment. "Well, young Earther, on behalf of the Galactic Confederation I extend our thanks for your assistance. Let me assure you...."
"Yadda, yadda, yadda, " interrupted the vamp, a skeptical eyebrow raised.
"Look, boss, the Werewolves are having a big meeting in a couple nights. We've got to track this guy before then, before he blabs to the whole,er, gang about us. We've got planning and work to do. let me get back to you when I get this all cleared up."
Before Flurgre could reply, I terminated the link. I hoped he wouldn't play back that whole exchange and think about it too much. Fortunately, Blastoids weren' t noted for there reflective capabilitities . Paper pushing doesn't reqoire it.In fact, I do believe it discourages it.
I got up and headed toward my bed. "I need to get some sleep Keep it down, please."
"Sure, " agreed Marchell, then added, "About that popcorn....?"

Q & A

"That's nothing," I lied."Just the tv.. I should have turned it off."
Then who is that behind you?" demanded Flurgre.
"Hey, Frazz, who's that?" came Marchell's voice from directly behind me. I turned and looked up.There stood the vampiress, directly behind me, looking over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and cursed the undead and their evil, silent stealth.
I turned back to my screen. I smiled.
"That's just Marchell," I replied lightly.
"A monkey girl? A human?" Flurgre's voice rose with every syllable. "Why is she butting into this conversation? Why in The name of the Great Jhoran does she know about you? Us? Are you insane?"
"Boy, that guy seems pretty.mad," chirped Marchell.
"She's not a monkey girl, " I tried to explain to Flurgre. "She's a vampire. Or vampiress actually. Female"
"Could you guys speak English? It's rude to talk behind a girl's back like this, you know?"
I turned to Marchell and switched to English. " This is Flurgre, our Project Co-ordinator. He's, ah, rather curious about you."
"Vampire?" puzzled Fuirgre. I could see him consulting a computer, no doubt checking the word."Vampire?" This time he nearly exploded. "An evil, undead creature of the night that feeds off the blood of the living?"
"Evil might be a little strong..."
"THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A VAMPIRE!"
"English, boys! PLEASE!" interrupted an ever increasingly exasperated Marchell. "Or German. French. Even Arabic or Mandarin. I'm good in each." Then, looking at my screen, "Why is he getting greener each second?"
'FRAZZI!"
"Let's do this in English, ok?. ' I suggested. "I do have a guest and she is in the middle of this."
Flurgre regained a measure of his composure. A small measure, anyway. "Very well," he conceded m English, "English."
"Thamk yiu, I nodded. "It seems humans are not the dominate life form..."
"Actually, they are," observed Marchell. "We'd be an unlife form."
"...the dominate intelligent inhabitants." I corrected. "She was stalking me when I found Glore.We fought, we talked, we made nice..."
"There's no such thing as a vampire," Flurgre insisted. Then he jumped back from the screen in surprise.
"Arragh," came a growl from behind me.I looked . Marchell was in full feral mode. Eyes glowing coal red, fangs bared and extended, claws out.
"She was able to identify Glore's murder as the work of werewolf."
"WEREWOLF? THERE'SNO SUCH THING AS A WEREWOLF!"

A MESSAGE FROM HOME

We pulled into my parking space by the house.The lights were on in many of the rooms of the first and second floor whuch are occupied by the monkey boy family that's putting up with me (did I say that right?). It was hard to tell if anyone was up though, as they often left the lights on through the night.
"I don't think you shoukd come in with me, " I informed Marchell as we vacated my car."I don't think my landlord would approve of guests, especially this late."
"Don't be silly," she replied, giving me one of those"It's fun to be evil" smiles. "They'll never know I'm here. Just open a window when you get upstairs and invite me in.
I shrugged,not having a good arguement, and trurdged upstairs to my third floor quarters. I fkicked on the lights and crossed to the window. Glancing outside, I saw no sign of my guest. I opened the window and a second later came a flittering and a chittering. A gray bat was hovering just outside.
How do they do that?
"C'mon in, "I whispered. The bat flew in and hovered a few seconds. The form of the bat began to shift, to flow, and in another few instants Msrchell stood before me,glancing about the room.
"Make yourself comfortable, " I offered as I crossed to my desk."I've got some work to do."
"Quaint,"observed the vampiress. "The bean counters out there must have a lot in common with the ones down here. She sighed, then noticed the T.V.. And my remote.And my big, comfy chair.
Plop
"At least you have cable," she remarked as she picked up the remote and waved it like a wand at the television. As the set came to life she added, "Buffy should be on. I love situation comedies."
With the vampiress occupied for the moment I fired up the computer. An advisory message popped up:

CLASS ONE COMMUNICATIONS SATELITTE ON LINE

About time. To date we here on Earth had to make do with a class three satellite relay. Ten hours for a message to reach home. Class threes rely on a real space tachyon transmission system Tachyons move faster than light,but not at infinite speed. Class one satellites drive tachyons
through supspace, allowing virtually instant communications throughout the galaxy. They are few in number due to their expense. I wondered briefly why we rated all of a sudden.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION flashed on to my screen.

I opened the comm link and beheld the image of Flurgre, out project manager. He's green and slimy looking, bipedal with three eyes, a couple slits for nostrils, and long, thin pink lips. A Blastoid Fortunately,we don't transmit smells. Blastoids have a certain ripeness about them.
He was dressed in agency brown with the usual orange highlights.
"Ah, Frazzi," he greeted in galactic common. His voice was thin and reedy. "I've been reviewing your repoirts with interest, especially since the death of Glore. I have some questions for you."
"Hey, Frazz, got any popcorn?" called out Marchell.
A rather perturbed look washed over Flurgre's face. At least, I think that's what it was. Blastoids always look a little perturbed.
"Who was that?" he asked pointedly. "Or should I ask what?"
Fluergre had questions. I didn't think he would like my answers.

THE DRIVE HOME

The interior of my car was identical to that of a 97 Buick Century. Reality and appearances need not be the same.
"Power up" I instructed in galactic common,an artificial language we've developed to facilitate communication between species.
A stirring of power could be felt as the AI unit in the car activated it's energy cels.
"Darken the windows40 per cent,"I continued. This would be enough at night to keep us from being observed by other drivers.
"Autodrive.Home base.".
The car pulled out of our parking space and began our exit from the garage.
"Cute tricks," commented Marchell. "How does a girl get one of these things?"
"Maybe I'll get you one for Christmas," I replied.
"Nah. Don't celebrate that one. Halloween, maybe?"
Vampires!
We came to the exit. I paid the parking fee and we sped off into the night.
"Let's see what's happening," I suggested.I switched back to galactic."Radio on."
The radio was preset to one of the news stations. The discussion that was underway involved the New York Times.Seems they had recently published details on how the government tracked monetary transaction in order to track down terrorists. One commentator sounded like he wanted to take the Times staff out behimd the barn, shoot them and leave them for the buzzards. His counterpart was defending the Times. prattling on about the public's right to know, which, I must note, is quite different fron the public's need to know or in the public's best interest to know.
"Really, Frazz, don't you find human politics a bit tedious?"
"It's part of the job, " I replied. "Can't evaluate humanity without understanding what's going on. Besides,I find the stupidity of the news media utterly fascinating."
"How so?"
"They just don't get it. There is no seperation between the observer and the observed. Both are always part of a larger system.When they report something regarding this war on terror. they influence the war on terror."
"The news services know that. Part of their choices on what and how to report things are often based on a personal agenda."
"And, I suspect, for power as well. Something not given or earned , but usurped, " I speculated. But you're missing my point. They are proceding without wisdom. As participants in this war they have a vested interest in the outcome of this war. As things stand now they have great freedom to print what they wish how they wish. The religous fanatics have stated they expect to conquor the West over a hundred years.If they did, all the vaunted rights of these arrogant news services are going to disappear, as will some reporters' heads. They, too, are under attack
and it would behoove them to take an active part in winning the war instead of hiding behind flimsy claims of principle and hindering it."
Marchell chuckled. "It's a daylighter trait to work against one's own self interest," she agreed. "It's called "shooting one's self in the foot.' Don't siuppose you could get some jazz on this thing, could you?"

FIRST DATE?

The vampiress Marchell led our way out of The Witch's Brew. As usual the throng of people crowding the floor, which had continued to grow during my meeting with The Bishop, parted before her like the Red Sea before Moses. I followed with the 2 male vamps, Tweedledum and Tweedledummer, bringing up the rear.
We exited into the cool spring night. Marchell spun to face me. "Where are you parked?" she asked.
I nodded down the street. "In the parKing garage over there, " I indicated.
"We'll escort you," she affirmed as we began to walk casually down Euclid Avenue. "Have you formulated any ideas on finding your werewolf?"
"Yeah, " I replied. "I figure Glore probably ran into his killer while researching your world. Most likely he haunts one of the places he listed in his log. I was going to start checking them out tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan." agreed the vampiress. "But we can only offer you protection and assistance at night. Where shall we meet?"
"There's a food market he frequented on West 130th. Thought I'd start by checking that out."
I gave her the address and she nodded.
"Our people will meet you outside at 8 o'clock. "You'll need to take care during the day."
I thought werewolves only come out at night."
"They only take their wolf form at night. They operate like normal daylighters during the day. And you don't look bulletproof to me."
We reached the exterior door to the garage. Marchell turned to Tweedledum and Tweedledummer. "Go," she instructed. "I'll see to him from here."
Vampires have such a way with a phrase.
The 2 males nodded respectfully and melted into the night.
Marchell and I ascended the staircase, well lit I must say, and reached my floor. As we approached my vehicle I turned to Marchell, a big, toothy, monkey boy smile painted on my face. "Well, thanks for the escort. I guess 'til tomorrow night?"
"I'm going with you."
"Excuse me."
"Frazz,we can't protect you if we aren't with you; if we don't know where you are. So I'm coming with you.
"I don't think..."
"This is not a discussion, Frazz. "I'm coming with you."
I shook my head. I didn't know if this was such a good idea. The vamps didn't know yet were I was staying. Part of me, a goodly chunk in fact, liked it that way. Still. the thought of running into a prowling werewolf on my own was more than a little discomforting.
"Okay, " I conceded. I took out my handheld and directed it at my car. Both front doors sprung open. "Hop in."
As we climbed into my vehicle a thought struck me. Frazz? Was that a nickname. A term of affection. Was this a first date? What have I gotten myself into?