I want to acknowledge a variety of help with this novel.

Jean Lorrah-professor of English, and sometime co-author of my Sime/Gen books as well as creator of the Savage Empire universe-in her review of my first novel, the Sime/Gen novel House of Zeor, called one of my protagonists a “vampire in muddy boots”-which is true. The primary archetype behind the Sime/ Gen concept is the vampire archetype. After seven Sime/Gen novels, I decided I was ready to try the real thing because it finally struck me that Jean and I both love “Star Trek” for how it uses one minor component of the vampire archetype-dangerous relationships-with love rather than “evil” and “horror.”

Diana Stuart, the romance writer who often deals in fantasy elements such as werewolves, gave me vital technical tips as did Jane Toombs, who works in romantic historicals as well as historical romances.

Claire Gabriel, a consummate professional in the general fiction field who has come to sf/f through “Star Trek,” returned after a ten-year absence to let a later draft of this manuscript keep her up till 2 A.M.-repeatedly. Since she has a deep aversion to vampire novels but loved this one, and didn’t get nightmares, I’m most especially pleased.

Judy Segal, science teacher, literary agent, and dear friend, who does not believe in nor enjoy stories about vampires, read and enjoyed a very early draft of this one.

Anne Pinzow, a professional video producer and sometime slush pile reader for publishers and agents, made time to read and comment on a later draft, as did Roberta Klein-Mendelson whose professionalism lies in stagecraft, but who is also writing a vampire novel. Katie Filipowicz, who has been deeply involved in Sime/Gen fanzine production, and has proofed many a manuscript for me, made time to go over this one while running her school library.

Marjorie Robbins, the current head of the Sime/Gen Welcommittee, has worked hard to reduce the workload of mail I handle so I’d have time to write this novel. Through the Sime/ Gen fanzines she publishes, Householding Chanel Inquirer and First Transfer, she has kept Sime/Gen fans in touch with the progress of Those of My Blood and kept me aware of how much they are looking forward to my vampire novel.

Susan M. Garrett, publisher of the Vampire Quarterly, has kept fannish interest in vampires alive and well fed.

Victor Schmidt introduced me to Frank Kurt Cylke, the director of the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped, the division of the Library of Congress that records books and which has recorded some of my novels. I have gained great respect for these people and their high professional standards, but from my readers, I have also gained a deep appreciation of the hunger among the users of the national service for total access to my writing as well as to other “Star Trek” and sf publications.

As a result of this, Kerry Lindemann-Schaefer, editor and publisher of the Sime/Gen fanzine Ambrov Zeor, Marjorie Robbins, Ellie Miller, and a host of other volunteers energized and organized by Karen Litman, editor and publisher of Companion in Zeor, have run an auction and book sale to raise money for a pair of the special tape recorders needed, and the Sime/Gen fans are now finishing the job of putting all the Sime/ Gen fanzines and many other materials on tape. Victor Schmidt, a quality assurance technician for the national recording service, strives mightily to help us achieve the highest possible standards.

As we have struggled with this task, our admiration for Mr. Cylke’s achievements at the National Library Service has grown daily. There is no substitute for the quality product his service turns out, and we can only hope that sighted readers will write their congressmen urging greater appropriations for the recording program. Of the over eight hundred titles in sf/f published last year, they could only record seventy-two, a colossal achievement but far short of adequate.

In another context, I have to thank my chiropractor, Larry Suchoff. Every writer with a bad back knows what I’m thanking him for.

For contact with any of the above-mentioned individuals, with Sime/Gen fandom, or its publications, or for current status and availability on Sime/Gen or any of my other novels, send a legal size self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Ambrov Zeor, Dept. B, P.O. Box 290, Monsey, New York 10952.

If this fails to reach me, I may be contacted through any of my publishers or in care of my agent, Russell Galen, at Scott Meredith Literary Agency, 845 Third Ave., New York, N.Y. 10022, who deserves an Award of Valor and the Grankite Order of Tactics Class of Excellence for the heroic efforts he has put forth on behalf of this book.

Stuart Moore, my editor, who had the courage to make a leap of faith, has given me the courage to do what had to be done with this book. I am especially eager to hear from readers of this novel with comments, criticism, or questions because I am now working on a companion volume for this novel, titled Dream Spy.

And now I come to the foundation of all the efforts alluded to above. My husband, Salomon, does what husbands do and it works. Who’d dare to ask for more?

The tarmac of the Quito spaceport shimmered in the harsh sun. The group of scientists bound for Project Hail on Luna milled about within the red-painted circle under the sign reading, HIGH SECURITY PASSENGER PICKUP.

They all wore Project Hail flight suits. Most had stacked their identical flight bags, each stenciled with the Project logo, at the place where the people-mover would soon pick them up. Two armed guards flanked the pile.

Dr. Titus Shiddehara, clutching his own flight bag, hovered at the edge of the crowd, with them but not of them. He scanned them, searching for the one who would be his adversary, reminding himself not to squint against the sun.

Remember to act human, Connie had admonished him, and whatever you do, this time keep your objectivity. Titus intended to do just that. Connie had made it very clear when she’d chosen him for this mission that, this time, his life depended on his objectivity.

Far to his left reporters crowded up against a guarded fence. They formed a churning mass of humanity punctuated by the snouts of video and sound recorders. One reporter, wearing a fashionable red fedora and reflective sunglasses like Titus’s, watched-a stillness amidst their motion.

All around, guards in World Sovereignties uniforms patrolled the fence and surrounded the press box. Titus’s adversary would be inside the guards’ line.

Off to Titus’s right were clusters of squat buildings. Out on the field, launch pads held commercial skytrucks. Project Hail’s skybus was on the main pad, fuming as workers swarmed over it. They’d be boarding soon. If anything was to happen, it would happen now. Yet all was still.

Behind Titus was the civilian passenger terminal. Squinting despite himself, Titus saw two stragglers emerge and cross the tarmac to join the group. He wished his group had not been told to stand out here, in the brutal mountain sun. He couldn’t see any security advantage to loitering so near the fence, and even the layers of sunscreen he’d slathered over his skin didn’t protect him from scorching.