Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (4 page)

John smirked and shook his head while Vesu simply rolled his eyes.

* * * * *

 
Ted Dov was a typical Junian city.
 
Its buildings flowed across the landscape, enclosing lakes and forest groves.
 
Since their construction and maintenance processes mimicked organic systems, the oldest parts of the city resembled single, large structures.
 
Over centuries, the homes and businesses had grown into one another, forming structures that made John think of avant-garde sandcastles or exotic seashells.
 
The city center was a pale Gordian knot of businesses, homes and public buildings.

North of the city center lay the Alien Sector.
 
It was a tangle of streets and buildings, the site of businesses and services catering largely to offworlders. The place had a bohemian air to it that John found exhilarating.

John had stayed in the Alien Sector when he first arrived on Juni, and he found himself drawn back to the area repeatedly.
 
Today, he strolled the shaded streets wearing a hooded cloak of sky blue.
 
No one looked twice at him.

Wandering along the street, John passed a Burjan rain-bar.
 
The door opened as he passed, disgorging a pair of the yellow-skinned aliens.
 
Their weathercloaks were damp and John
caught the smell of dank vegetation and wet earth from the open door.
 
The building’s wallscreens were set to show rolling Burjan text with Junian translations beneath, advertising frequent rain showers and fresh bug stew.

John walked past several closed shops, before he came to the Zerraxi temple.
 
Sonorous chants drifted out of the open doors, as well as the musky scents of several Zerraxi gathered in one place.
 
He paused for a moment, to listen to the chants, and then continued on his way.

When John had left the house that morning, he did not have a destination in mind.
 
He had just needed to get out for a while.
 
Leaving a message for Olu and Vesu, he had summoned a groundcar and taken it into the city.
 
For a while, he had wandered the bright, crowded plazas of the Day Market, and then attended an outdoor concert.
 
However, once his stomach started rumbling, John found himself heading for the Sector.

Junian food was normally fine with John, but tonight he was in the mood for something different.
 
No fruits and vegetables, no fish and nuts.
 
Tonight, John was in the mood to sink his teeth into red meat.
 
That meant a trip to Taiaxa’s.

Taiaxa’s was a Zerraxi restaurant.
 
The owner, Taiaxa herself, was a tall, powerfully built Zerraxi female with jet-black hair.
 
Her pale skin was adorned with ochre-hued tribal tattoos.
 
She ran the restaurant with the help of her nine children, and the place was immensely popular.
 
 
John wasn’t surprised to find a line of patrons, waiting for a table.
 
He attached himself to the end and passed the time chatting with a trio of guardsmen just back from the Colonies.
 
They invited him to join them, but John politely declined.
 

Taiaxa herself was seating customers.
 
After she had led the guardsmen to a table, she returned, grinning, to John.
 

“Back again, eh?” said the big Zerraxi woman.

John laughed.
 
“You know I can’t get enough, Tai.”

She bellowed with laughter and led him to a small table in the back of the restaurant.
 
They chatted for a few moments, as Taiaxa did with all her regulars, then she returned to her duties as host.
 
No sooner had Taiaxa left than one of her children appeared with a menu and a tall glass of cold water.

“Hello, Jox.”

The Zerraxi youth offered a tired smile.
 
“Hello, Mr. John.
 
Your usual this evening?”

“Yes, please.”

“We’ll have it out in a bit.”

“Is everything okay, Jox?
 
You look tired.”

Jox grinned, suddenly showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.
 
“Fine, Mr. John.
 
We’re just a little shorthanded right now.
 
Riki had his
satok ze
today.”

John tried not to wince.
 
He had read about the Zerraxi adulthood rites.
 
They didn’t sound pleasant.
 
“How did it go?”

The Zerraxi youth’s smile grew even wider. “
Toc ne iya sut
!”

Now he is a man, thought John.
 
He smiled at the beaming Jox.
 
“Congratulations!
Sa ne abe saf ju
!”

“May he have many cubs indeed, Mr. John!”

Jox bowed his head and rushed away from the table.
 
John picked up his glass and took a long sip of the cold, fresh water.
 
Turning his head, he swept his gaze over the dining room.
 
It was dark, the wallscreens set to mimic the appearance of bland, beige stone.
 
The furniture was rustic, all rough-hewn wood and hand-tooled leather, created by local Zerraxi artisans.

It was a mixed crowd tonight.
 
John spotted a fair number of Junians, sharing long common tables, sitting elbow to elbow with Zerraxi.
 
A lot of the Zerraxi were dressed up, and John assumed that there had been more than one
satok ze
that day.

Taiaxa wandered over during a lull at the door, and John congratulated her on Riki completing his rite.
 
The restaurateur grinned and took the empty seat opposite him.

“I’ll have new cubs to spoil soon,” she said.

John grinned.
 
“Really?
 
Riki has a mate in mind?”

“He does.
 
A young beauty named Joneza.”
 
Taiaxa laughed.
 
“He sent her a courting gift as soon as he had finished his rite.”

“Well, best to strike while the iron is hot, I suppose.”

“What about you, John Epcott?
 
When will you find a mate?”

John chuckled.
 
“Would you be interested, Tai?”

The Zerraxi woman laughed again and shook her head.
 
“I’m too old to bear cubs,
xeylaz
.”

“Are you too old for a good time?”

She leaned toward him and licked her lips.
 
Her grin was toothy and amorous.
 
“Not according to my lovers.”

Jox returned then with John’s meal and Taiaxa left him to enjoy it. John watched her leave, noting the sway of her hips.

“Is mother going to add you to her collection, Mr. John?” Jox asked, amused.

John picked up his knife and fork, cut into the sizzling steak.
 
“If she keeps cooking like this, Jox, maybe.”

Chuckling, Jox shook his head and went back to work.

* * * * *

It was dark when John stepped out of the restaurant.
 
None of the moons were full, and there were clouds massing above the city, promising to deliver another shower.
 
John pulled the hood of his cloak up, and headed for a groundcar station a few blocks away.

He had barely gotten a block away from the restaurant, was passing an alley between two closed shops, when someone grabbed him from behind.
 
Startled, John froze for a second and was shoved into the alley.
 
He tripped on his cloak and fell to the ground.
 

Scrambling to his feet, he spun to find the alley entrance blocked by three Zerraxi.
 
They were young and lean, their eyes glimmering gold in the dark.
 

“It’s a male,” complained one.

“A Junian male,” said another.
 
“So it doesn’t matter.”

The first one snorted, then chuckled.
 
“I heard they all bend over for one another.
 
Is that true, little
ruz
?”

“Let’s find out,” said the other.

John pushed back the hood of his cloak.
 
“I’m not Junian.”

“Vezex!”

The one in the middle snarled.
 
“No names!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, John took two steps forward and kicked the middle Zerraxi as hard as he could between the legs.
 
The man screamed.
 
His golden eyes bulged, comically, and he fell over, clutching at his groin.

The Zerraxi on the right gaped.
 
John turned, stomped his foot at the young male.
 
Flinching, the Zerraxi dropped his hands, to protect his genitals.
 
John punched him in the nose and the Zerraxi’s head snapped back.
 
He howled in pain, as black blood began to pour
from his nostrils.
 
Without hesitation, John punched him in the throat.
 
The howl degenerated into a hacking gasp as the Zerraxi fell back, clutching at his nose and throat.

Spinning, hands raised, John was startled to find the third Zerraxi quaking against the far wall.
 
He took a step forward and the male yipped in terror.

Pointing a finger at the trembling Zerraxi, John snarled.
 
“Don’t move!”
 
He reached up and tapped his comm.
 
“Emergency.
 
I need peacekeepers and medics at this location.”

His com chimed, connecting him to the local Emergency Authority.
 
A man said, calmly, “Tell me what’s happened.”

“I’ve been assaulted by three Zerraxi.”

“Remain calm,” said the dispatcher.
 
“Emergency personnel are on the way.
 
How badly are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” snapped John.
 
“The medics are for the Zerraxi.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the man spoke again. “I’ve accessed your comm’s personal ident, Mr. Epcott.
 
I’ll keep this channel open, until help arrives.”

“Thank you.”

Moments later, three aircars landed outside the alley.
 
Two bore the neon insignia of the peacekeepers, the third was a medical transport.
 
Peacekeepers emerged from the cars, wearing pink and blue armored suits equipped with domed helmets.
 
They were armed with scramblers, weapons that disrupted the voluntary nerve impulses in most known humanoids.
 
As the peacekeepers descended, en mass, upon the Zerraxi, a pair of medics rushed up to John.

The woman took one look at him and gasped.
 
“Merciful pantheon! What did they do to your hair?”
 
She started scrambling in her shoulder bag.

“I’m fine,” said John. “I’m not even. . . .”

Before John could finish, the medic had slammed an injector against his neck.
 
He jerked back, startled.
 
The world tilted on its side and before he could say or do anything, it was sliding away from John, down a long, black corridor.

* * * * *

 
John woke to the murmur of soft voices, the scent of rain and the feel of someone holding his hand.
 
Opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a comfortable bed.
 
Turning his head, he saw he was in one of the medical wards of Ted Dov Primary Hospital.
 
He recognized the yellow walls and dark blue floors from earlier visits.
 
There were privacy curtains set up around his bed, and sitting in a chair next to it, holding his hand, was Iseta.