Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing

by George R. Shirer

  * * * * *

  Lewij closed the comm-channel and turned back to John, shaking her head. “I thought I put all this political nonsense behind me when I became an instructor.”

  John raised his eyebrows. “You’ve done this kind of thing before?”

  “Once or twice,” said Lewij. She grimaced and tossed the empty bottle of tiel into a recycler port, concealed behind a wall panel. “I wasn’t always a humble instructor.”

  “You used to be in the Guard, didn’t you?”

  “I served for eight years in the Guard, then another seven in the Diplomatic Authority.”

  John studied Lewij. “Were you a spy?”

  She laughed. “Hardly! Nothing so exciting. I prepared diplomats for offworld assignments, instructing them in their host-culture. Now I do the same thing with Guard cadets.” Lewij sighed and picked up her PIN. “Speaking of cadets, I should get back to work. Essays don’t grade themselves.”

  John laughed and stood. He took Lewij’s hands and squeezed them. “You sound a little less than enthused. Want to join me and my friends for dinner?”

  “I’m tempted, but I need to push through these assignments.” She shook her head, and scowled. “Honestly, I don’t think half the students I have now are going to pass this class!”

  “Nonsense. I’m sure you’ll pull them through just fine, Lewij.”

  She snorted. “Sweet boy. You should be taking this class; you’d pass it as easily as winking.”

  He grinned at her. “To do that, I’d have to join the Guard, and somehow I don’t think they’d let me.”

  “Why not?”

  John wrapped a lock of dark hair around his finger. “Not Junian. Remember?”

  “Yes, as you so wickedly pointed out,” said the instructor. She had her eyes squeezed shut and was making vague warding gestures in his direction. “Is it safe to look or are you still torturing your hair?”

  “It’s safe to look,” said John.

  Tentatively, Lewij opened an eye, and then snorted. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s....” She shuddered.

  “And on that note,” said John, “I’d best be leaving.”

  She sighed and patted his hand. “And I had best get back to my grading. I’ll comm you when I hear from Jivis.”

  He nodded and left her, seated in her chair, glowering at her PIN.

  * * * * *

  Gomis University was a crescent-shaped collection of buildings, occupying a large tract of land that included several small lakes. Surrounded by residential and commercial districts, Gomis University was the most prestigious institute of higher learning on Juni.

  John took a deep breath and exhaled. “This place always reminds me of SeaWorld.”

  “What’s SeaWorld?” asked Olu.

  “An aquarium park back on Earth. My parents took me there when I was thirteen.”

  “Where you interested in marine biology?”

  “No, not really,” said John. “My mom always used to try and make vacations educational.”

  “That sounds like one of my old house-fathers,” said Olu. “Whenever we would go on holiday, he would always take us children to visit some local temple or shrine. I know he meant well, but. . .”

  “It always seemed to defeat the purpose of the vacation?” suggested John.

  “Exactly,” said Olu.

  Chuckling, John glanced out the large circular window. Olu’s office was on the top floor of a dark red, three-story building at the northernmost point of the university crescent. As such, it had a lovely view of one of the lakes. From the window, John could see bathers stripping down on the shore, and sliding into the cool, green water.

  “How did things go with Lewij?”

  John turned his back on the window. “It went well.”

  “Oh?” Olu raised her eyebrows.

  Nodding, John settled onto her couch. “She was able to answer a lot of my questions.”

  “I’m glad,” said Olu. She studied him for a moment. “Now, what aren’t you telling me, John?”

  He plastered a smile on his face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She leaned back in her chair, an overstuffed recliner, covered in dark green fabric. “I can tell when you aren’t telling me everything. We have been sharing a home for the last six months, after all.”

  John let the smile fade a little. “Let’s just say that there are some options being considered.”

  Olu frowned. “What sort of options?”

  “Diplomatic options. And I really don’t think I should talk about it until I have a better idea as to what’s going to happen.”

  “As long as you aren’t in any kind of trouble?”

  “None at all,” said John, amused. “Although, from the way the newsmakers have been trailing me since I left the Institute, you’d think I’d gone on a murderous rampage.”

  “Do you want to go home for dinner?”

  “No,” said John. “Actually, I think I’d like to give them a bit of a show.”

  Olu narrowed her eyes. “What are you planning, John?”

  “Nothing bad,” he said. “Promise.”

  * * * * *

  Vesu Oza shut off the infoscreen of his instructor’s lectern, and stepped down from the dais. Most of the students from his Moral Economics class had already left the lecture hall, talking and laughing among themselves. Only a single student remained behind, waiting for Vesu at the bottom of the dais’s steps.

  Mentally, Vesu sighed. “Good evening, Miss Nop.”

  Ito Nop was an unattractive young woman. Her nose was too big for her face, she had a disquieting tendency to squint at whomever she was speaking with, and she had a prickly personality. Vesu thought that her friends must have been extremely patient.

  “I’d like to discuss my essay with you, Instructor Oza.”

  “Of course, Miss Nop. Come by my office tomorrow and . . . .”

  “I’d like to do it now,” said Ito, firmly.

  Vesu smiled. “I’m sorry, Miss Nop, but I’m meeting friends for dinner and simply don’t have time to. . . .”

  “May I walk with you?”

  “I . . . suppose,” said Vesu. He waved a hand at the door. “After you.”

  * * * * *

  Fi Mosu sprawled on the green grass near one of Gomis University’s lakes. It was a warm day and several students had taken advantage of the weather to go swimming. Their clothes and PINs lay in a haphazard pile near the shore. Fi had been tempted to join them, but as quickly as the thought had flown across his mind, he had dismissed it. The other newsmakers wouldn’t be taking a break.

  Fi had spotted Deso Nesomi from Planetary skulking around one of the university buildings, and Wisiw Som from UNN interviewing students. The competition was on the human’s trail, just like Fi and probably for the same reasons. References to Epcott on the public infonets had risen a startling thirty-eight percent in the last few days. There hadn’t been a spike like that since Assembly Representative Esip Futop’s connections to organized crime had been exposed!

  Fi had been aware of John Epcott, in a general sort of way. He remembered the enormous swell of public sympathy when the human’s story was leaked by sources inside the Defense Authority months ago. There had been a lot of interest in this mysterious alien, who looked so much like a Junian that he could almost pass for one on the street. Twenty-two percent of the comments made about Epcott were related to his appearance. Words like “exotic” and “attractive” showed up quite a bit in the relevant group discussions. A thriving sub-group speculated quite a bit about whether Junians and humans were sexually compatible.

  Thankfully, as far as Fi was concerned, such speculation was in the minority. Most of the interest in Epcott seemed to be based upon intellectual curiosity and genuine sympathy regarding his status. Prior to this assignment, Fi had waded through a lot of the speculation, reviewed the previous public interviews with Epcott, and even managed to speak to some of the scientific specialists who were interviewi
ng him about human culture.

  The image that Fi had built was that Epcott seemed remarkably stable, considering he had survived the destruction of his species. Fi had wondered if Epcott had been so stable when first encountered by the Undaunted Spirit. He had sent a request to the Guard, for access to crew logs referring to Epcott and even made tentative inquiries to some of the Undaunted Spirit’s crew. So far, nothing had come from either of those sources. The silence from Guard Command was no surprise. As part of the Defense Authority, the Junian Guard was probably the most information-opaque organization on the planet. But individual guardsmen, in Fi’s professional and personal opinion, loved to talk. His inquiries about Epcott had been politely, but firmly, rejected. This suggesting to Fi that the guardsmen aboard the Undaunted Spirit had bonded closely with the human. That suggested things about Epcott that were genuinely intriguing to Fi.

  His own brief encounter with the man, earlier, had only made Fi Mosu more curious. The human’s responses to his questions, intended to be deliberately provocative, had been thoughtful and even-handed. Now, Fi found himself wanting to do a proper interview with Epcott, not just about the assaults, but also about the man himself. If Epcott agreed and the interviews were handled properly, Fi thought that it might give his career a sizeable boost.

  But Fi suspected that he would have to approach Epcott carefully. Let Nesomi and Som pester the man. Fi knew their interview styles and suspected that Nesomi’s belligerence and Som’s oiliness would not ingratiate them to the alien.

  No, thought Fi. He would let his colleagues take the lead and, ultimately, take themselves out of the competition. Then, he would step in, with his request for an interview. All he had to do until then was watch and wait. Grinning, Fi decided that maybe a quick dip in the lake would be fine after all.

  * * * * *

  John glanced up from the PIN he had been studying. Vesu had arrived, accompanied by a young woman with yellow hair so dark that it was almost the color of mustard. She wore a long blue robe, over a yellow dress that revealed a generous portion of leg. The young woman was arguing about some esoteric subject with Vesu. As John watched, Vesu paused on the threshold of Olu’s office and turned to the young woman.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Miss Nop, and we can discuss it in more depth later.” Vesu placed particular emphasis on the last word. “But as of this moment, I am done instructing for the day. Contact me tomorrow and we’ll set up an appointment to address the rest of your concerns.”

  The young woman frowned. “But . . . !”

  “Good night, Miss Nop,” said Vesu.

  John thought the young woman would continue to argue, but then she seemed to realize that they were not alone. She glanced away from Vesu, noting the presence of Olu and John. Her gaze froze on John and she stared.

  “You’re John Epcott! The Last Human!”

  Silently, John nodded. Ito lowered her head, her fingertips flushing scarlet. Without another word, she turned, bobbed her head in farewell to Vesu, and fled down the corridor.

  “Well,” said John, “that was unusual.”

  Vesu shook his head and ambled over to the couch, where he sat, heavily. “Ito Nop is an unusual girl.”

  Olu chuckled. “Poor Vesu. Rough day?”

  “It was going fine until the last fifteen minutes. Nop walked with me from my last class, wanting to talk about her essay.” He sighed. “Clever girl, but she has all the sensitivity of a razorbeak.”

  John chuckled. “Well, the day is over with now, so put it behind you.” He patted Vesu’s hand.

  “Fine by me,” said the man. “How did things go with Lewij?”

  “She was very informative.”

  “Good,” said Vesu. “Now, where shall we go for dinner? I’ve heard about this wonderful new restaurant over in Kuciz District. They’re supposed to have over a dozen versions of fish stew on the menu.”

  “I think John has some place in mind,” said Olu.

  Vesu looked intrigued.

  * * * * *

  Deso Nesomi checked her eyepaint in her PIN. She produced a cosmetic tube from her belt and carefully replaced some of the sparkle she had lost during the day. Not too much, of course. She didn’t want to look like some addlebrained lifechanger, wearing sparkle-powder like foundation. Just enough to emphasize the shape of her eye, to contrast with the mid-tone blue eyepaint. Satisfied with her repairs, she returned to surveying the university.

  “Any luck?”

  Deso scowled. Wisiw Som was sitting on a bench behind her. Som was in his sixties, his short golden hair starting to turn white at the roots. He didn’t wear eyepaint, and his skin was starting to display the coarseness many Junians developed later in life. His dark blue robe, decorated with intricate yellow beadwork, fell to his ankles.

  “Do your own hunting, Wisiw.”

  The old man chuckled. “Don’t be such a sorehead. Have you seen Fi?”

  “No,” said Deso, leaning against the wall. “Maybe he gave up.”

  “More likely he’s found a better spypoint. Are you going to try one of your famous ambushes with Epcott?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just making conversation,” said Som.

  He reached into a pocket of his robe and produced his PIN. He touched the interactive screen and Deso heard the camera-drones before she saw them. They were small, spheroid devices with mirrored surfaces.

  “Isolation!” Deso glared at Som. “You’re using stealth camera drones?”

  “Jealous?”

  “What do you think? Does UNN know you have those?”

  “Of course.”

  Deso frowned. “You aren’t thinking of violating privacy, are you, Som?”

  Som gave her a withering look. “Don’t be stupid. I just use them to cover more ground than I can on my own.” He rose from the bench. “Speaking of covering ground. . . .”

  Deso turned back to the front of the building. Epcott had emerged, the hood of his red over-robe down, easily identifiable by his tangle of black hair. He was accompanied by a man and a woman. Deso recognized them as Epcott’s housemates, Olu Teneso and Vesu Oza. The trio headed toward a groundcar station, chatting among themselves.

  Deso powered up her camera-sphere and hurried after them. “Mister Epcott!”

  The trio paused on the stone path. Deso saw a look of annoyance flash across Teneso’s face, but Epcott was smiling and standing with his head tilted to one side.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  Deso smiled and raised a hand to indicate her camera. “Deso Nesomi of the Planetary News Service. Do you have time for a few questions?”

  “Well,” said Epcott, glancing at his companions, “my friends and I were on our way to dinner, but I suppose I could answer a couple of questions.”

  “Thank you,” said Deso. “You were released from the hospital a few days ago. How is your recovery progressing?”

  “Oh, I’m fine,” said Epcott. “Completely recovered.”

  “Were your injuries from the assault very severe?”

  Epcott chuckled. “Oh, I wasn’t injured in the assault. I had an unusually strong reaction to a sedative I was given at the scene.” He laughed. “It knocked me out for four days.”

  Deso plastered a smile on her face. “You look well rested.”

  “Thank you,” said Epcott. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. . .”

  “But . . . .!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Epcott. “But we really must go. If you’d like to arrange a more formal interview, miss, you can comm me and we can set up an appointment.”

  Deso was about to protest, but Epcott had turned away. His companions had already claimed a groundcar and were waiting in it, the door open. He slid inside, turning to wave goodbye to Deso as the door sealed. A moment later, the groundcar pulled away from the sidewalk.

  “Wastes!” swore Deso.

  “At least he offered to do a more formal interview,” said Som. “That’s something.”
<
br />   Deso scowled at the older reporter. “I can’t do a newsbit with just two questions!”

  “Then stop scowling, dear girl, and come along,” said Som. He walked to the next groundcar and climbed inside.

  Deso frowned. “Why are you being so helpful? We’re competitors.”

  “Even competitors can collaborate when it’s in their best interests. Now, are you getting in or not? I don’t think I’ll lose the signal, but. . .”

  “What signal?” asked Deso, climbing into the car.

  “I programmed one of my drones to follow Epcott while you were talking to him.”

  Deso stared. “It’s inside their car?”

  Som rolled his eyes. “No, silly. It’s attached to the top of the groundcar.”

  He handed his PIN to Deso. She stared at the screen, saw a map of the area streets with a flashing dot moving along them that obviously represented Som’s camera.

  “Let’s go.”

  He reached forward and touched the auto-driver controls. “Destination, please.”

  “Switch to manual control,” ordered Som.

  “Please provide your name and personal ident-code for license confirmation,” said the auto-driver.

  Som rattled off his name and personal ident-code like a machine. The auto-driver chimed softly and announced, “License confirmed. You have manual control.”

  “Now,” said Som, taking the groundcar’s controls, “where are we going, Deso?”

  * * * * *

  The Alien Sector blazed after dark, its restaurants and nightclubs offering new experiences to the more jaded members of the Junian public. As their groundcar slid along the streets, Vesu peered out the window with interest.

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

  “I lived here for a few weeks after I first arrived on Juni,” said John.

  They were on the edge of the Sector, where it brushed up against one of the major commercial districts. Here, the streets were thronged with people. Only as the car slid deeper into the Sector did the pedestrian traffic lighten.

  “It’s not a bad neighborhood.”

  The groundcar came to a gentle stop. John grinned and opened the door, climbed out of the vehicle. Vesu and Olu followed him, found themselves standing outside a busy restaurant. There was a line of customers waiting to get inside. Olu noticed that it was a mixed crowd, Junians and various offworlders. There were several Zerraxi present, as well as a tall Burjan, a white-furred Juxxan and a pair of Jurkuroi.