Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (37 page)

“I can almost feel my toes,” said John.
 
He was sitting on a couch in the hotel lobby, where a pair of medics had propped him.
 
“How about you?”

Sufo lowered himself next to John.
 
“Well, this isn’t as bad as the fortieth anniversary party Iluso threw, but it’s a close second.”

“Really?
 
What happened then?”

“The pleasure boat we reserved sank.” The old man looked around the room and sighed.
 
“At least no one’s died this time.”

“Sufo, you know I like you, but I don’t think I’m going to be attending any more of your wife’s parties,” said John, carefully.

“Don’t worry.
 
Iluso won’t be throwing any more parties if I have a say.”

“Do you?”

The old medic snorted.
 
“What do you think, boy?”

John patted Sufo’s hand.
 
“I think you should consider either a second wife or active security at these things.
 
I’m sure old Homu could refer a good security team.”

“Hmf!”
 
Sufo clasped his hand.
 
“Thanks, by the way.
 
For saving my wife.”

“Consider it a retirement gift if you like.”

“Ha! You wish!”

“Can you tell me what this was all about?”

“Just Iluso’s past, catching up to her,” said Sufo.
 
“Savogh’s a Jurkuroi renegade, a pirate and a murderer.
 
About twenty years ago, Iluso captured him and turned him over to the Jurkuroi government.”
 
The old man scowled.
 
“The fool’s been plotting his revenge ever since.”

“Twenty years.
 
That’s a long time.
 
You have to admire his patience.”

“He’s insane.
 
This time, the Jurkuroi will execute him or lobotomize him.”

“I can’t say I feel particularly sorry for him, Sufo.”

“At the moment, Epcott, neither can I,” admitted the old man.
 
He glanced around the room again.
 
“Where’s Fex?”

“Trying to get fish soup out of her hair.”

Sufo winced.
 
“When you see her, give her my regards.
 
And my congratulations on her promotion.
 
She’ll make a fine First.”

“You could tell her yourself.”

“And ruin our relationship?” said Sufo.
 
“Gods forbid!”

He stood, and for the first time, John noticed how slowly the old man was moving.
 
Sufo’s hair, dust-gray as long as John had known him, had started to turn silver-white.
 
It looked thinner, as well.
 
John felt a pang of sadness.
 
He touched the old medic’s hand.

“Sufo, is it true?
 
Are you retiring to one of the Colonies?”

“Not for a little while.
 
Not until Iluso leaves the Guard.”

“But then?”

“Then,” said Sufo, “she and I will vanish into a nice little retirement block in Moondome Two.”
 
His dark eyes twinkled with amusement.
 
“Drop by if you’re ever in the neighborhood.”

“I’ll do that,” promised John.

* * * * *

 
Nikosu Island had not changed much in the time that John was away.
 
As Rainsky embraced Juni, the knotlimbs shed their tough, protective bark and the fireflowers bloomed, carpeting whole sections of the island in caustic orange blossoms.
 
On the west side of the island, the spearbeaks began their savage, noisy mating rituals.
 
Gentler avians, solitary orangebills and flocks of lavender-winged surfdivers, returned to nest in the island’s forest.
 
A family of pricklecoats emerged from hibernation, digging out of their underground burrow to troop through the underbrush.
 
Purple fluffbushes exploded, filling the air with clouds of drifting white seedpods.

John was working on the path between his home and the landing field, clearing it of fireflowers and a particularly hardy species of blue thornvine, when his comm chirped.
 
He paused, tapped the device.

“This is John.”

“Officer Epcott, this is Fleet Officer Lujo.”

John frowned.
 
“Sir.
 
What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to speak with you, Epcott.
 
Face to face.”

“Of course, sir.
 
I ship out on the
Just Emperor
in three days.
 
When would you like to meet?”

“Actually, guardsman, I’m in a transport heading toward your residence.”

John blinked, glanced at the pale blue sky.
 
“What’s your ETA, sir?
 
I’ll have to disengage privacy before you can land.”

“We should be there in an hour.”

“I’ll be looking for you, sir.”

* * * * *

Fleet Officer Lujo’s transport signaled John exactly one hour later.
 
John disabled his privacy settings, and switched on the landing field’s guidance beacon.
 
 
Lujo stepped off the transport, accompanied by a couple of aids.
 
The Fleet Officer gave the landing field an appraising look, as he brushed John’s palms.
 
 

“This is a fine place you have here, Epcott.”

“It suits me, sir,” said John.
 
He gestured toward the path.
 
“If you’ll follow me.”

He led them down the path, beneath the canopy of twining knotlimb branches.
 
The aids peered at everything with interest, while Lujo asked the occasional question.

The house seemed to surprise the Fleet Officer.
 
Inside, Lujo studied everything with genuine curiosity.
 
His aids stood, a bit uncertainly, in the foyer.
 
 
John waved the trio to his seating area, expanded to include two overstuffed chairs in addition to the couch.
 
While his visitors settled themselves, John stepped into the kitchen and brought out a tray.
 
It was loaded with a pot of red tea, plates of sliced greenfruit and two bowls of nuts.
 

The group chatted for a few moments about current events.
 
While they did, John saw that the Fleet Officer continued to study his home.
 
His aides seemed more interested in the food.
 
After a little while, Lujo sat back, balancing his cup on his knee.

“Epcott, I’d like to talk with you about your career.”

John helped himself to a spoonful of sticky, sweet tarnuts.
 
“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve been reviewing your record,” said Lujo. “May I be candid?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Your talents and abilities are being wasted.”

John shifted in his chair, popped a tarnut into his mouth.
 
“Are they?”

“I believe so, and I’m not the only one.
 
In light of recent events, First Guard Officer Netevu has taken an interest in you.”

“Should I be flattered about that or worried, sir?”

“Probably both,” admitted Lujo. “We’d like you to consider an offer.
 
It’s not one we’ve made to many people.
 
Lol Kitos, Ifo Icotu, Vujonovo Leban.
 
Just to name a few.
 
You know them?”

“I know First Officer Kitos personally, sir.
 
The others, I know by reputation.”

“Then you know that Kitos is taking a position with Guard Command.”

“Yes, sir,” said John. “But First Officer Icotu is dead, along with her entire crew.
 
And Leban? Leban had a nervous breakdown that forced him to leave the Guard.”

The Fleet Officer sighed, his face crumpling for a moment into regret.
 
“Leban’s inclusion in the program was a mistake.
 
One that I have to take personal responsibility for.”

“You didn’t pick those names at random, did you, sir?”

“No.
 
I chose them deliberately, to illustrate the dangers and the rewards of what we’re offering you.”

“Which is what, sir?”

“The chance to rise quickly through the officer ranks, to utilize your decision-making and leadership skills where they’re needed most.”
 
The Fleet Officer leaned back.
 
His black eyes were hard as stone.
 
“I won’t lie.
 
The assignments you’d be given wouldn’t be easy or pleasant. A lot of them would be dangerous.”

John put down his tea.
 
“You want me to be a fixer.”

The Fleet Officer scowled.
 
“So, you’ve heard the term before?
 
Where from?
 
Kitos?”

“Just around,” said John. “You know how it is, sir.
 
People on ships gossip.
 
They pass along rumors.”

Lujo snorted.
 
“I remember.
 
How long is your tour on the
Just Emperor
?”

“Three months.”

“Think about the offer and give me your decision when you get back.
 
Three months should be enough time for you to make up your mind.”

“I don’t need three months, sir,” said John.
 
“I can give you my answer right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir.
 
I’ll do it.”

The Fleet Officer frowned.
 
“Are you sure about this,
 
Epcott?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well,” said Lujo. “It’ll take a little time to make the arrangements, but when you complete your tour aboard the
Emperor
, we’ll begin.”

Rainsky

5823

Junian Calendar

Administrative Specialist Vog Sefa did not look up at the sound of the elevator doors whispering open.
 
A quick glance at his infoscreen identified the elevator’s passenger as a Second Officer, assigned to the
Echo
.
 
System agents had already confirmed his appointment with Fleet Officer Ninok, but Vog’s terminal had no specifics.
 
That suggested the matter probably related to something sensitive.

When Vog did raise his head, to greet the visitor, his eyes widened.
 
The man standing before his desk had black hair, shaved close to the skull, and blue eyes.
 
Those eyes regarded Vog with some amusement.

“Are you all right?”

Vog’s fingers flushed with embarrassment.
 
“I’m sorry, sir.
 
You just caught me by surprise.”

“My apologies,” said the alien.
 
He inclined his head.
 
“I’m Second Officer Epcott, here to speak with Fleet Officer Ninok.
 
I have an appointment.”

“Of course,” said Vog, still a bit flustered.
 
“Officer Ninok is running a little behind this morning, so if you’d like to be seated?”
 
He nodded toward a cluster of soft couches.
 
“Can I get you something to drink, Second? Tea, perhaps?”

“A cup of purple tea would be nice,” said the alien.

Vog nodded, his composure restored, and summoned a runner.

* * * * *

John made himself comfortable in Fleet Officer Ninok’s reception room.
 
It was a pleasant enough room, the rounded walls set to a light yellow, the carpet a dark shade of orange.
 

The furnishings, unfortunately, were adaptive.
 
As John sat on the couch, he felt it shift beneath him, trying to provide him with maximum comfort and support.
 
John didn’t care for adaptive furnishings; it always felt like they were trying to molest him.
 
He tapped the sofa’s arm, opening its control menu, and disabled the adaptive routines.
 
The sofa settled into its default inert state.

John settled back into it and pulled out his PIN.
 
He had just started Uqqex’s latest puzzle-story,
The Seventh Witness
.
 
If Ninok kept him waiting long enough, he might be able to finish it.

* * * * *

Ovanu Kedez trotted into the reception room, carrying a cup of purple tea.
 
The young woman glanced at Vog, who nodded toward the seating area.
 
Turning, Ovanu saw who was sitting there and nearly dropped the cup.
 
Smiling, she walked over to John Epcott.
 

“Your tea, sir.”

The Last Human was reading a PIN.
 
He put it aside, accepted the tea with a smile.
 
“Thank you, cadet.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”
 

She would have liked to linger, maybe ask him what he was reading or why he was waiting in Fleet Officer Ninok’s reception room, but that would have been inappropriate.
 
Instead, Ovanu simply smiled, nodded, and trotted back down the corridor to the service area.

None of the other runners were in the small lounge area.
 
Grinning, Ovanu tapped her comm, dictated a quick text-only message and transmitted it over the infonet.

* * * * *

 
It was raining in Ted Dov, the water falling in thick, gray sheets.
 
The rain was the remnants of a massive storm that had swept down from the polar region.
 
It had been funneled
through the Ca-Tu Mountains, before spreading across the Plains of Sihuz.
 
By the time it reached Dupep Province and Ted Dov, the storm had lost some of its bite, but not much.

Fi Mosu could empathize with the storm.
 
Standing in the doorway of his residence, watching the rainfall, he reflected that he too had lost some of his bite.
 
Through no fault of his own, Fi’s career had hit a low point.
 

In the last few years, a string of high-profile ethics violations had rocked the commercial news industry tainting everyone in it by association.
 
It had been the fault of that cursed lonely trendfollower, Deso Nesomi.
 
She’d been after an interview with a junior Assembly member, and deliberately violated the privacy laws.
 
When her actions had been discovered, Nesomi’s network had been prepared for arbitration, had been ready to grovel and offer restitution, but that had not happened.
 
The assemblyman had avoided arbitration and taken the matter straight to judgment.

This was a shocking move, as arbitration was used to resolve eighty-eight percent of all legal conflicts on Juni.
 
The fact the assemblyman was requesting judgment, meant that he considered the incident a serious crime.
 

The commercial news agencies, anticipating the ratings boost that only a scandal could provide, covered the affair with zeal.
 
Their enthusiasm diminished considerably when the inquest revealed that Deso Nesomi and Planetary had committed multiple, serious violations of the law.
 
The public outcry was enormous.

After the inquest, the judgment leveled against Nesomi and her associates was like the wrath of the gods.
 
 
The Planetary News Network had its commercial business charter cancelled.
 
In the space of a heartbeat, one of the primary commercial news agencies on Juni simply ceased to exist.
 
The newsmakers and administrators who had committed the crimes were judged just as harshly.
 
Most were ordered to undergo mandatory social rehabilitation.
 
All of them were declared baseline, which meant they could never work for anyone else ever again.

Fi could still remember the shock on Nesomi’s face, after the judgment had been delivered.
 
She hadn’t expected anything like this.
 
No one had.

After Planetary’s business practices were exposed, there was a popular demand for a formal inquest into the other commercial news agencies.
 
Moving with uncharacteristic speed, the Assembly created a special subcommittee to investigate the matter.
 
Fi’s employer, JIN, escaped the subsequent inquest relatively unharmed.
 
So did most of the other commercial agencies, but there were enough scandals and criminal behavior exposed to turn the public against the entire industry.

Ratings had dived, as the public turned away from the commercial news networks.
 
They embraced the government-funded newsfeeds, public information networks and private newscasters.

Fi had weathered the storm better than most of his colleagues.
 
The stories he pursued had been of midrange interest to the public, and he had followed the privacy laws scrupulously. So even though he avoided being tainted, his newscasts were getting mediocre numbers.
 
He was committing professional suicide.

Standing in his doorway, watching the weakened storm ravage the neighborhood gardens, Fi was considering a change of employer.
 
JIN had been good to him, but if he wanted to further his career and reputation, he would have to leave them.
 
He was debating whether to pursue a post with one of the government newsfeeds or to strike out on his own, as a private newscaster, when his comm chirped.
 

Fi tapped it.
 
“Hello?”

A synthetic voice replied.
 
“This is an automated alert.
 
The Last Human’s Infonode has received an update with a ninety-five percent positive response rate.
 
Do you wish to review?”

Snorting, Fi turned away from the storm.
 
Why not?
 
“Yes. Transfer the update to my home workstation.”

His comm chimed, acknowledging the order.
 
Fi went to the small workstation he had set up in the daychamber.
 
Its infoscreen was glowing a warm shade of red.
 
One of his housemates, Sonomi, was sitting on the couch, bent over her PIN.
 
She glanced up as Fi walked past her.

“Finally came out of the rain?” she said, grinning.

Fi sat at the workstation and called up the update.
 
Sonomi joined him, draping herself over his shoulder.
 
She smelt pleasantly of the spicy soap she favored.

“What’s this?”
 
She squinted at the screen.

“Just an old story I never managed to get the network interested in.”

“The Last Human?”
 

Fi grunted, reached up to stroke the line of her jaw.
 
“Yes.”

“I think I saw a newsfeed about him once, a few years ago.”

“Most likely,” said Fi.
 

Briefly, he recounted Epcott’s origin and the Zerraxi incident he had been involved in almost a decade earlier.

“And people still care what he does?”

“Xenophiles,” explained Fi.
 
“They’re fascinated by him.”

“Obviously,” said Sonomi.
 
She reached for the infoscreen and accessed the infonode’s logs.
 
“Fi, some of these entries go back years!”

“I told you.”

She scowled and pushed him out of the chair.
 
He watched, amused, as she began to skim the node’s logs.

“This is strange,” she said, after a few moments.

“What?”

“According to this last entry, Epcott is a Second Officer in the Guard.”

“It’s odd that he’s an alien, but . . . .”

Sonomi shook her head.
 
Her fingers flew across the workstation interface.
 
Fi watched her access a string of prepared agents and send them combing through the infonode’s records.
 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Sonomi.
 
“Well, not just that.”
 
She turned away from the screen.
 
“One of my house-fathers was in the Guard for twenty years and he didn’t rise higher than a Seventh Officer.
 
According to this, Epcott hasn’t been in the Guard ten years and he’s already a Second Officer!
 
How is that possible?”

Fi leaned forward, peered at the screen.
 
“You know, Sonomi, that’s a very good question.”

* * * * *

 
Elo Lis, the head of the Junian Information Network’s Ted Dov bureau, was in her sixth decade.
 
She was a tall, solidly built woman, dark skinned with long, dark blue hair.
 
Her eyepaint was extravagant, a complex snarl of blues and yellows framing her dark eyes.
 

Fi had worked under Elo for about four years, and had come to trust her judgment.
 
He liked her no-nonsense attitude and direct approach to problem solving.
 
Still, he grew a bit nervous as she listened to his pitch.
 
Elo’s expression could have been carved in stone.
 
Her face giving nothing away.
 
When he had finished, Elo leaned back in her chair.

“No.”

Fi frowned.
 
“Why not?
 
You’ve got to admit that it’s a good story, Elo.”

“I don’t have to admit anything of the kind.”

“Then why not?”

“Because I don’t believe your premise, Fi.
 
Do you honestly believe that Epcott’s promotion is the result of incompetence and corruption within the Guard?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Elo snorted.
 
“I’m not denying that, but I am denying this.
 
I don’t believe it, Fi.
 
And I don’t think you do either.
 
You think I don’t know you tried to pitch the network on another Epcott story a few years ago?”