Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (7 page)

“What did you do?” asked Vesu.

John shrugged.
 
“I got tired of being frightened, so I took a self-defense course.
 
It did wonders for my confidence.”

Olu chuckled.
 
“Apparently.”

“So you see,” said John, “this encounter with the Zerraxi isn’t the worst fight I’ve ever been in.”
 
He squeezed Olu’s hand.
 
“And it certainly isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

* * * * *

 
In his bedroom, later that afternoon, John tapped his comm.

“Device ready.”

“Access archived messages, please.”

“Accessing archived messages.”

“How many of those messages were received prior to calendar date 58.18208?”

“None,” reported the comm.

“All right,” said John.
 
“How many archived messages are from comm-codes I’ve exchanged messages with prior to calendar date 58.18208?”

“Nine messages match that criterion.”

“Play these messages.”

Two of the messages were from Olu, asking him where he was.
 
There was a message from Vesu asking much the same.
 
The other six messages were from people John had some contact with, wishing him well after the incident with the Zerraxi or inquiring after his health.
 
John recorded a blanket message for the academics, thanking them for their concern and well wishes and apologizing for the generic nature of his response, explaining that he had several hundred messages to review.

“Are any of the remaining messages from comms that are not designated as personal?”

“Three archived messages match that criteria,” replied the comm.

“Identify senders, please.”

“Mercantile comm, Taiaxa-554685040.
 
Municipal comm, Ted Dov Health Authority-434446327.
 
Diplomatic comm, Zerraxi Embassy-404564416.”

John frowned at the last.
 
“Play the message from the Zerraxi Embassy.”

The comm warbled as it complied.

“This is Ambassador Zaquo of Zerrax,” said a tremulous, male voice.
 
“I wish to extend a formal apology for the behavior of our citizens to you, John Epcott.
 
Their actions will not go unpunished.”
 
There was a brief pause.
 
“And, on a more personal level, I wish to extend my apologies for the shameful behavior of my son, Katis.
 
He has shown poor judgment in his choice of companions and brought shame upon himself, his family and his tribe.
 
Let me assure you, sir, that his punishment will be no less severe than that of the others.”

The message from Taiaxa was blunt and to the point, berating the three Zerraxi criminals, and assuring John that the local Zerraxi community was appalled.
 
She ended by wishing him a swift recovery and hoping that he would return to the restaurant.

John fired off a response, assuring Taiaxa that he would definitely be returning to the restaurant. “After all,” he said, “where else around here can you get a great steak, and enjoy it in such agreeable company?”

The third message, from the Ted Dov Health Authority, was from a Counselor Wen.
 
She invited him to attend the group counseling sessions arranged for the attack victims.
 
John did not even bother to respond, just deleted the message.
 
The last thing he wanted to do was take part in group therapy.

“Delete the remaining messages, please.”

The comm chirped.
 
“Are you certain you wish to do that?
 
Deleted messages cannot be recovered.”

“Yes,” said John. “Delete the remaining messages.”

“Messages deleted.”

John nodded.
 
“Device off.”

The comm warbled at him, indicating its compliance.
 

* * * * *

Vesu was seated in the daychamber, when John came downstairs.
 
He sat with his feet propped on a stool and his hands folded across his belly.
 
His dayrobe was dark purple with yellow piping around the cuffs and hem.
 
The wall in front of him was displaying a popular entertainment program,
Tej Femi’s Assembly
.
 

As John sat next to Vesu, Tej Femi was introducing a musical act.
 
Four young women wearing matching outfits began to play a collection of woodwinds and harps.

“They’re good.”

Vesu nodded.
 
“They’re the Tiwi Sisters.
 
Olu and I saw them perform at the civic center in Golden Beach, last year.
 
They were amazing.”

“Where is Olu?”

“Gossiping with her sisters on the comm,” said Vesu.
 
“But you didn’t hear that from me.”

John grinned.
 
“My lips are sealed.”

Vesu glanced at him.
 
“Is everything all right?”

“I’m . . . not sure.”

Vesu froze the program.
 
“Tell me.”

“I had a message from the Zerraxi Ambassador, apologizing for what happened.”

“That bothers you?”

John frowned.
 
“The ambassador’s son is very young.
 
He’s not an adult, more like a Junian going through the lifechange.”

“You’ve been watching the newscasts.”

“I had to after I got the message,” admitted John.
 
“The ambassador sounded very . . . fragile.”

“This will probably be the end of his diplomatic career.”

“It shouldn’t be,” said John.
 
“I read some of the other victim reports.
 
None of the descriptions of their assailants matches Katis’s.”

Vesu scratched his chin.
 
“I’m not sure that’ll matter to a Zerraxi court.”

“It ought to.”

“You should talk to Imiro Lewij, at the Institute,” said Vesu.
 
“She’s an expert on the Zerraxi.
 
She could answer your questions about them better than I could.”

“I should.
 
It’s been a while since I spoke with her.”

John remembered Imiro Lewij fondly.
 
When he had first arrived on Juni, she had given him a crash course in Junian customs and culture.
 
A petite, fair-skinned woman in her fifth decade with long, yellow hair, Lewis stood out in John’s memory for the kind regard she had shown him.
 
Also, for her wardrobe.
 
Imiro Lewij was the only Junian he had met whose wardrobe seemed to consist entirely of shimmering gray robes.
 
Later, he’d learned that was because she was a member of a religious group, the Devotees of Oba.
 

“I’ll comm her tomorrow,” said John.
 
He yawned and blinked.
 
“But right now, I think I’m off to bed. Say goodnight to Olu for me, will you?”

Vesu touched John’s wrist.
 
“John, would you do something for me?”

“Of course, Vesu.
 
Anything.”

“Would you sleep with us tonight?”
 
He lowered his voice.
 
“Olu’s been worried sick about you.
 
If you’re in the other room, I know she’ll be up half a dozen times to check on you.”

“Sure,” said John.

Vesu smiled.
 
“Thank you.”

“Does she still take all the covers?”

“Like a Sewkari bandit,” said Vesu, chuckling.

* * * * *

It was raining the next morning, one of the gentle showers that were becoming less frequent as Juni began its seasonal transition, from Rainsky to Clearsky.
 
Olu and Vesu had left for the university, after Olu had made John promise to comm them if he left the house.
 
John had solemnly promised.
 
Checking his comm, John found that more messages had been archived for his review.
 
Sighing, he waded through them.
 
Four were from news agencies, requesting interviews.
 
There was a flirty response from Taiaxa to his previous message, and a few messages from friends on the
Undaunted Spirit
.
 

John spent most of the morning responding to these messages and then setting up a filter to route the comms from well-meaning strangers to a separate archive.
 
By the time he was finished, the gentle shower had transformed into a torrential downpour.
 
John walked to the house’s rear door, which overlooked the lush gardens held in common with the neighboring homes.
 
For a while, he stood in the open doorway, breathing in the warm, damp air.
 
During weather like this, John had noticed he was prone to fits of melancholy.
 
He often found himself thinking of Earth, of thunderstorms from his Georgia childhood and the terrible storms he’d witnessed while traveling across the prairie, after the plague.

The clouds, he recalled, would come out of nowhere.
 
They would swarm, piling on top of each other, turning day to night.
 
The air would become hot and charged. Lightening would stab at the ground, repeatedly.

In the here and now, lightening flashed and John jumped a little, pulled out of his reveries.
 
Shaking his head, he retreated indoors and tapped his comm.
 
“Connect me with Instructor Imiro Lewij at the Junian Guard Institute, please.”

His comm warbled and a few seconds later, a familiar voice said, “This is Instructor Lewij.”

“Good morning, instructor.
 
This is John Epcott.
 
How are you?”

“I think I should be asking you that question, John,” said Lewij.
 
“I’ve been watching the newsfeeds.”

“I’m fine,” said John.
 
“I was hoping you and I might get together and talk.
 
I have some questions about the Zerraxi I was hoping you could answer.”

“Oh?” Lewij sounded intrigued.
 
“I have classes until 1500 hours, but after that, I’m free.
 
Could you meet me at the Institute?”

“Sure.
 
Let’s say, 1600 hours?”

“Perfect.
 
Meet me in my office.”

“Thank you, instructor.
 
I’ll see you then.”
 
He tapped his comm, closing the channel, and then tapped it again.
 
“Contact Olu.”

She answered almost immediately.
 
“This is Olu Teneso.
 
How can I help you?”

“Hi, Olu.
 
It’s John.”

“Good morning, John.
 
This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’m meeting Instructor Lewij at the Institute this afternoon, at 1600 hours.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to go out in public?
 
It’s only been a few days and privacy doesn’t extend beyond the house.”

“As comfortable as it is here, Olu, I can’t spend the rest of my life in the house,” said John.
 
“I’ve got to venture back out into the world sometime.”

Her sigh was audible over the comm.
 
“I suppose.”

“Vesu has his late class tonight, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What if, after my meeting with Lewij, the three of us go out for dinner?”

“Are you sure about that, John?
 
The newsmakers. . . .”

John snorted.
 
“If the newsmakers pester me for a story, I can always offer to kick one of them in the balls.”