Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (23 page)

“He’s right about that, First Medic,” said Jesot.
 
“People were drinking them all the way up to first shift.”

“First shift?” John frowned.
 
“That’s impossible.”

“Why?” asked Tujec.

Before answering, John walked over to the bar he had been working yesterday. He knelt and retrieved a large bottle of pink fluid from a storage bin beneath it.

Jesot and Tujec examined the bottle.
 

“All right,” said Tujec.
 
“What is it?”

“Blisswine,” said John.

The First Medic gaped.
 

Jesot’s orange and purple decorated eyes widened.
 
“Where did you get blisswine?”

“It was a parting gift when I left the
Thunderbolt
.
 
First Officer Emiz gave it to me.”
 
John grinned at the memory.
 
“After my shift ended, I put it away, in the storage bin beneath the bar.”
 
He nodded at the bottle.
 
“You’ll note that this is a genelocked cap.
 
No one but me could open it.”

Jesot frowned.
 
“Hesec was mixing Sunset Tornados all fourth shift.”
 
She went to the synthesizer behind the bar and pulled up the history.
 
“Ah.”

Tujec turned his attention away from the blisswine.
 
“You’ve found something?”

The allocator slid her PIN into the synthesizer’s interface slot, and then passed it to the medic.
 
“This is the formula Hesec was using to make the drinks.”

The First Medic slotted Jesot’s PIN into his own, and studied the info flowing across his screen.
 
He grunted.
 
“It’s a match.”

“How could Hesec copy my formula?” asked John.
 
“I haven’t loaded it into the ship’s infobase yet.”

Grinning, Jesot reached under the bar and pulled out the handscanner.
 
“From this.”

“Crap,” muttered John.

“Why do you have a handscanner behind the bar?” asked the First Medic.

“Did you know that if you mix Old Towep’s Number 38 with Jurkuroi
narkmog
, it tastes wonderful, but makes a potent emetic?”

The First Medic blinked.
 
“No, I can’t say that I did.”

“Neither did I,” said John.
 
“After that little discovery, I started sending scans of my concoctions to Jusojo for analysis.”

For the first time, the medic smiled.
 
“A sound practice.”
 
He sighed and stuck his PIN to the outer thigh of his uniform.
 
“Well, that almost resolves this mess.
 
If you’ll purge the synthetic recipe of this drink from the ship’s infobase, Jesot, we can consider the matter resolved.”

She nodded and went to the synthesizers.
 
John picked up the handscanner and wiped its memory as well.

“We’re sorry about the difficulty we caused you, First Medic,” said Jesot.

Tujec shrugged.
 
“Giving those detox injections is the busiest the infirmary’s been on this mission, thank the pantheon.”

“Still,” said John, “we wouldn’t want you to go back to the infirmary with a bad perception of us, here in the crew halls.”
 
Grinning, he gripped the cap of the blisswine bottle and twisted.
 
The bottle opened with a hiss, releasing a sweet aroma into the air.
 
“How about an authentic Sunset Tornado?”

The First Medic laughed.
 
“I suppose I should try one.
 
For official comparative purposes only, of course.”

“Of course,” said John.

Half an hour later, the First Medic left, in a much better mood than when he had arrived.
 
John waited until Tujec had gone, before collapsing across the bar.
 
Face against the orange bar top, he said, “The next time I see Hesec, I’m going to strangle him.”

Chuckling, Jesot patted his back.
 
“Come now, John.
 
There was no real harm done.”

“Except to my reputation.”
 
He lifted his head and scowled.
 
“Half the people in the bar last night probably woke up this morning thinking I poisoned them!”

“At worst, they woke up feeling a little nauseous,” said Jesot.
 
“Their implants probably countered most of the symptoms.”

“Watch. I bet the First has me reassigned to Recycling for the rest of my time aboard.”

“Well,” mused Jesot, “that’s one way to get out of the crew halls.”

* * * * *

 
Third Allocator Nosa Gev brushed her fingertips across her workstation’s infoscreen, absent-mindedly prioritizing a request for additional system resources from Defense, while shamelessly eavesdropping.
 
The First was listening to a report that First Medic Tujec had come to the command to deliver.
 
Gev couldn’t see the First’s face from her position, not without turning around, but she could imagine it.
 
Any conversation that involved John Epcott tended to make the First frown.

Tujec had finished and there was a moment of silence before Fe spoke.
 
“Synthesis poisoning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That explains why half the people I passed in the corridors today looked green,” remarked Jusip Val. The First Scientist chuckled, amused by his own observation.

The First Defender was less pleased.
 
“This is no laughing matter, Jusip.
 
Half my defenders were late to their assignments because of this nonsense.
 
What if we’d been attacked?”

Gev rolled her eyes.
 
Was Zunova serious?
 
Like anyone would abandon their station just because their relief was a little late.
 
The allocator was tempted to access the login times of the second shift defenders, to see just how late people had actually been, but she didn’t.
 
It was common knowledge that the First Defender had the system rigged to report any query regarding Defense to her.
 
Which made Gev wonder if the woman was hiding something?

Apparently, Gev’s opinion was shared by the First Medic.
 
“If your people can’t function with a mild hangover, First Defender, perhaps I should schedule a round of physical assessments.”

Gev heard the First Defender’s sharp intake of breath, but before she could speak, the First stepped in, smooth as ice.
 
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, medic.
 
Do you?”

“Perhaps not, First,” admitted Tujec.
 
“In any event, given the number of crewmen we detoxed this morning, I thought you would want to know the cause.”

“Thank you, Tujec,” said the First.
 
“I appreciate your notifying me in person.”

“Speaking of physical assessments,” broke in Jusip Val.
 
“How are our guests doing?”

“They seem in good condition,” said Tujec.
 
“They’ll be coming through the infirmary this morning for their final medical review before we arrive at Napiso.”

Gev shivered.
 
They were talking about the Devotees of Oba now.
 
Just thinking of the gray-robes made Gev uneasy.
 
She had heard the stories about them.
 
Everyone had.
 
But she had never met any of them before, and, honestly, had never wanted to.
 
They made her skin crawl.

She glanced at her screen, saw that a short queue of requests had amassed while she listened to the conversation behind her.
 
Focusing her attention on her duty, she pushed thoughts of the devotees aside, and got on with her work.

* * * * *

 
John had discovered that there was a definite rhythm to the crew halls.
 
They
 
were busiest the hour before and after shift change, as crewmembers came to relax or fortify themselves before heading to work.
 
This left a relatively slow period right in the middle of John’s own work shift.
 

It was during this lull, when the hall was largely empty, that the twin devotees appeared.
 
The girls were young, perhaps two or three years past their lifechange.
 
They were pale and pretty, with matching red hair that fell to their shoulders.
 
Neither wore any eyepaint.
 
They approached the bar tentatively, and John flashed on an image of skittish deer, ready to bolt at the first hint of danger.

The girls settled themselves at the bar. Their eyes were lowered, their heads bent close together as they murmured to one another.

John put down the PIN he had been reading and smiled at them.
 
“Welcome, ladies.
 
What can I get for you?”

The girls looked up and stared at him.
 
The one on the right blurted out, “Merciful pantheon!”

John’s smile never slipped.
 
He had gotten this reaction more than a few times in the past.
 
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

The girl who had spoken looked down, suddenly self-conscious.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I’ve just. . .”

“Never seen anyone with black hair before.
 
I get that a lot.
 
If it makes you feel better, it’s totally natural.
 
Your reaction and the hair.”

“You’re not Junian.”
 
The girl on the left said it slowly, as if testing the shape of the words.

“Nope,” said John, grinning.
 
“Now, what can I get you ladies?”

They glanced at each other.
 

“Do you have bubble water?” asked the one on the right.

A child’s drink, thought John.
 
“Sure.
 
What color?”

“Green.
 
Please.”

John nodded, turned to the other one.
 
“And you, miss?”

The girl was looking at him, forehead wrinkled with thought.
 
“Are you Zerraxi?”

“Nope.
 
Human.”

Her frown grew deeper.
 
“Human?
 
I’ve never heard of that before?”

John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
 
“Well, that’s different.
 
Where are you ladies from?”

“Tanis Siv.”

“Never heard of it,” said John, cheerfully.
 
“So I suppose that makes us even.
 
Now, what can I get for you?
 
Bubble water, like your friend?”

“I’ll have a legbreaker.”

John nodded, but the girl’s sister gasped.
 
“Oja!”

“This is probably the last place I’ll be able to get a proper drink, Efi,” said Oja, glowering at her twin.
 
“And I’ve always wanted to try a real drink.”

Efi looked uncomfortable.
 
“If Proctor Sio finds out. . . .”

“What will he do?
 
Expel me?”
 
She turned back to John, a wicked grin on her face.
 
“A legbreaker, please.”

“The lady gets what the lady wants,” said John.
 
Turning to his synthesizer, he dialed up the drinks and deposited them on the bar with a little flourish.

Efi picked up her bubble water, but did not drink it.
 
Rather, she watched Oja pick up the legbreaker and down it in one gulp.
 
Oja blinked, very carefully put the empty glass back on the bar, and said, “Oh my.”