Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (26 page)
John and Pim tried theirs, but there was no response.
“That’s . . . not good,” admitted John.
They returned to the hall, where the sisters waited. Oja was fiddling with an illuminator.
“What are you doing?” demanded Pim.
The illuminator suddenly flared into light.
Oja moved away from it, a satisfied smile on her face.
“What did you do?” asked John.
The light was dimming, assuming levels associated with emergency conditions.
It was still bright enough to illuminate most of the hall.
“I have some technical training,” said Oja, shrugging.
“I thought I’d check the connectors.
The human was right, the power connectors were misaligned.”
“Well done,” said John.
“What do we do now?” asked Tul.
“Should we make for an escape pod?” asked Pimuqi.
John shook his head.
“We should head for the infirmary.”
“What?
Why?” demanded Tul.
“Because the infirmary has its own systems,” said Pimuqi.
“Right?
Including an emergency communications array!”
John nodded.
“If that’s the case, why isn’t it active?” demanded Tul. “If someone was there, wouldn’t we get something on our comms?”
“There could be someone there, but they’re unconscious,” said John.
“Or trapped, like you were, Tul,” said Pimuqi.
Tul wasn’t convinced.
“It’s just as likely that the infirmary isn’t there anymore.
You all felt that explosion, before the lights went out.
If there was anyone alive in the infirmary, we’d know by now.”
“I think he’s right,” said Efi.
“Proctor Sio was in the infirmary and he’s an experienced technician.
If there was a comm array in there, he would have it up and running by now.”
“Unless he’s injured,” countered Oja.
“We should head for an escape pod,” said Tul.
“It’s the sensible thing to do!”
Pimuqi hesitated.
“John, what do you think?”
John was frowning.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Tul’s argument made sense.
He sighed.
“All right.
We head for the escape pods.”
* * * * *
Making the decision to head for the escape pods, however, and getting there, were two different things.
A quick inspection of the main door revealed it wasn’t just stuck shut, it was sealed.
Pimuqi played her pressure-torch over the door’s edge, where it appeared to have merged into the adjoining walls.
“That’s bad, isn’t it?” said Oja.
“Well, it’s not good,” admitted John.
He found his handscanner and slipped it on.
Placing his palm against the door’s surface, he eyed the readouts.
“The nanotech in the wall looks like it’s locked in repair mode,” said John.
“And, I’m not certain because of the door, but it looks like there’s minimal atmosphere in the corridor.”
“What does that mean?” asked Efi.
She floated at her sister’s shoulder, both girls clasping hands.
“There’s been a hull breach,” said Pimuqi.
She swallowed.
“A pretty bad one if the nanos are sealing doorways.”
“I’m still reading atmosphere,” said John.
“Just not a lot.”
“Could we be the only ones still alive?” Efi asked, quietly.
The others looked at each other.
“Let’s check the other doors,” said John.
They did and found two others undergoing a similar sealing process.
The final door, on the starboard side of the vessel, remained unsealed.
John placed his gloved hand against it and studied the scans.
“I’m reading atmosphere and pressure,” he announced.
Efi touched the door and started.
“It’s cold!”
“Yes,” said John.
“It’s not exactly a Clearsky day on the other side, but we should be okay as long as we bundle up.”
They dug through the emergency kits, and found emergency EVA suits.
They reminded John of the warmsuits he had worn on Nikosu Island, only much tougher.
Each was equipped with its own powerpack and self-contained recycling system.
In theory, John knew that a person could survive indefinitely in one of the suits, but he had never heard of anyone actually doing it.
As soon as they had pulled on the suits and sealed their bubble-helmets, the suits powered up.
Info streamed across the interior of John’s helmet as the suit interfaced with his medical implant to configure itself for his non-Junian biology.
As soon as the info stream ended, John joined the others at the door.
He and Tul manhandled the door open.
The suits chirped, registering a sudden change in external temperature.
Beyond the door, the corridor was dimly lit.
Emergency illuminators flickered here and there.
They floated out of the crew hall and made their way down the hallway.
It was slow going.
They stopped at each closed door and knocked loudly, hoping that if there was anyone on the other side they would respond.
No one did.
“Do you think we could be the only survivors?” Pimuqi asked, eyes flitting left and right.
“It was mid-shift when we went to first alert,” said John.
“The crew halls are always slowest right then.
Wait until we get to quarters, then we’ll find people.”
They moved on, swimming down the corridor.
* * * * *
Actually, John was wrong.
They encountered people before they reached the crew quarters.
Rounding a bend in the corridor, the quintet was startled, and then elated, to see a pair of similarly dressed crewmembers ahead of them.
The newcomers introduced themselves as Sebo and Nodomi.
Sebo was a defender, while Nodomi was a medic.
They had been searching for other survivors.
“Have you found anyone?” asked John.
Nodomi shook her head.
“You’re the first we’ve found in this section.”
Her expression was grim, her eyes haunted.
“Does anyone know what happened?” asked Pim.
“The last update from the command showed we were in pursuit of a Sewkari vessel,” reported Sebo.
“And then, boom.”
“Has anyone heard from the command?” asked John.
Sebo and Nodomi glanced at one another.
“Most of the sections before the core are sealed tight,” said the defender, grimly.
“And our suits detected heavy radiation near the core,” reported Nodomi.
“It looks,” said Sebo, “like there’s been a shunt incident.”
“Who’s in command?” asked Tul.
His eyes were enormous in his thin, white face.
“Nobody, really,” said Nodomi.
“We haven’t found any of the ship’s officers.”
“What about the infirmary?” asked John.
Sebo shook his head.
“The entire forward section of deck two is compromised.
Including the infirmary.”
“How compromised?” asked John.
“The front of the ship is gone,” said Nodomi, bluntly.
“It’s just open space.”
“Merciful pantheon,” murmured Pimuqi.
Sebo grunted.
“The gods don’t seem to be in a very merciful mood today.
Come on.
We should head back to crew quarters.”
“What about the escape pods?” asked Tul.
“Are they functional?”
“Some,” said Nodomi.
“But a lot are compromised.”
“Oh gods,” muttered Tul.
“We are going to die!”
John glared at the man.
“No, we aren’t.
We’re guardsmen.
We’ve all had training to survive in situations like this!
We will survive!”
Tul was staring at him, round-eyed.
So were the others.
“Do you really think we’ll make it?” asked Oja.
“I survived alone, on a plague world, for over a year,” said John, coldly.
“Now I’m on a disabled starship with a highly trained, highly motivated crew.”
His sudden smile was brilliant, confident and, somehow, utterly terrifying.
“I don’t know about you lot, but I like those odds!”
Without another word, he kicked forward, heading down the corridor.
After a moment of stunned surprise, the others followed him.
* * * * *
The crew quarters were packed with survivors.
They clustered in groups, clutching pressure-torches, maintaining physical contact.
There was a constant murmur of voices.
Everyone watched the arrival of John and the others with weary eyes.
“There are more wounded than I thought there’d be,” murmured John.
Nodomi nodded.
“The gravity failure caught everyone off guard.
Crewmen were flying through the air like puff-blossoms.”
“How many people are dead?”
The medic’s face grew hard.
“I think everyone who could get here, has got here.”
John glanced around the crowded corridor, into the open rooms.
He felt sick.
The
Harmonious Maiden
had a normal complement of over four hundred people.
If Nodomi was right, it looked like about a hundred had survived the disaster.
Abruptly, Efi and Oja pushed past John and Nodomi, barreling down the corridor toward a small cluster of figures.
There were cries of relief, as the two girls were reunited with members of their group.
Well, thought John, at least somebody is having a happy reunion.
He touched Nodomi’s hand.
“You said you couldn’t find any of the ship’s officers?”
“None,” said the medic. “Not even the Ninth.”
“What about the ranks?”
“There are some present.
The highest we’ve found is Fifth Allocator Jebim.”
“Who’s the ranking defender?”
Nodomi shrugged.
“I have no idea.
Sebo might know.”
The man frowned.
“I think it’s Ninth Defender Dotep.
Why?”
“None of the officers are present, and we’re still, technically, operating in combat conditions.
The ranking defender should be in charge.”
Sebo shook his head.
“Not Dotep.”
“Why?”
“He’s fresh out of the Institute with no field experience.”
“He had enough experience to earn a Ninth rank,” said John.
Sebo snorted.
“That had less to do with his experience and more to do with the fact his family has influence with the Assembly.”
John stared.
“You’re joking.”
“No,” said Sebo.
“A lot of the lower ranks aboard come from similar backgrounds.”
“Handpicked by our glorious First,” said Pimuqi, bitterly.