Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing

by George R. Shirer

“Like a babe,” said Uqqex.

  “There’s deggo on the bar.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Foul stuff. I’d rather drink water.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Epcott turned back to the PIN he held, frowned, and then stabbed at its gray surface with a stylus. Uqqex wandered into the kitchen, found cups and chose a large one. After she filled it with cold water from the dispenser, she joined him on the couch.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Answering queries from specialists,” said Epcott. He shook his head and tossed the PIN aside. “It’s amazing some of the conclusions these so-called experts make about human culture.”

  “They’re asking you to confirm their research?”

  “I am the only real expert. Right?”

  She shrugged. “Do you want to answer their questions?”

  “It would be easier if their questions could be answered with facts. Names. Dates. Places. Things like that. But more often than not the questions I’m asked have to do with motivation. Why did Henry VIII feel he had to execute his wives? Why did the introduction of the sewing machine cause riots? Those kinds of things. There aren’t any clear answers. I can give them my interpretation of things, which may or may not be right, but the specialists are all treating my answers like they’re the gospel truth.”

  “That bothers you? The idea that you may not be giving them the truth? Just your perception of it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then stop answering their questions,” said Uqqex. “The Junians copied several infobases before they left your planet. Right? I’m sure these people could find the answers they want in that info. All they have to do is look for it.”

  “A lot of them do, but then they submit their interpretation of the answers to me, asking for my input.”

  She laughed. “They’re using you like an editor.”

  “I suppose so. I never thought of it like that.”

  “If these people are making you crazy, John, you should stop dealing with them.”

  “Spoken like a sane person.” His eyes crinkled with mirth. “You know, Uqqex, you’re the only person who ever calls me crazy. Everybody else walks around that word with me like it’s a bomb.”

  “Well, you are crazy,” said the Zerraxi woman, matter-of-factly. “You’ve said so yourself in our comms.”

  He laughed. “I wonder how well that went down with the eavesdroppers?”

  Uqqex grinned. “Who knows? No one’s shown up to haul you off to an asylum, so they must not be too concerned.”

  “Either that or they’re just too polite to do it,” said Epcott. He shook his head, and stood. “Feel up to a ramble around the island?”

  “Of course. Let me change into something more practical.”

  * * * * *

  Epcott wore a dark green warmsuit, but exchanged the transparent helmet for a knit cap that he shoved on his head. Uqqex wondered where he had gotten it, since only a Junian masochist would choose to wear a hat. She was surprised when he produced a gray, metallic gun.

  “What is that?” asked Uqqex. As she watched, Epcott checked over the weapon before slapping it against his hip. The gun stuck to the warmsuit.

  “A neural scrambler.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Do we need to be armed?”

  “It’s just a precaution, in case the spearbeaks decide we look like dinner.”

  “Spearbeaks,” Uqqex repeated.

  “Have you ever seen one?”

  “No.”

  “They’re big, avian predators.” Epcott spread his arms wide, giving her an idea of their wingspan. “They use their bills to impale fish and other birds. Nasty creatures.”

  “Have they ever attacked you?”

  “Just once. I got too close to their nesting grounds on the west side of the island. We won’t be going there.”

  Uqqex nodded and followed him outside. It was a brisk morning, but nowhere near as cold as the previous evening. The snow lay in deep drifts around the house. Epcott glanced at it, then at Uqqex.

  “Do you want to take the air-sled?”

  “No.” She knelt in the knee-deep snow, gathered up a handful and smeared it across her face. “This is invigorating.”

  “And people say I’m the crazy one.”

  She snorted and threw a snowball at him.

  * * * * *

  Although the knotlimbs tangled their branches overhead, on the ground, Uqqex saw that their trunks were set far apart from each other, forming natural corridors. Overhead, the sky was blacked out by a layer of snow lying across the twisting branches. Occasionally, a strong wind would rustle a branch, causing lumps of snow and ice to fall.

  Epcott led the way. It was quiet, except for the wind whispering through the trees. In the distance, Uqqex thought she could hear the sea, and the shrill screams of what she assumed were spearbeaks.

  “Is it always so quiet here?”

  “It’s Stormsky,” said Epcott. “Most of the birds have migrated south and a lot of the animals that stay behind are hibernating.”

  Uqqex nodded. It made sense. Even if Juni’s orbit didn’t cause extreme temperature variations, the planet still had seasons. The native lifeforms would be in tune with them.

  “I’ve never spent much time outside the cities,” she admitted.

  “I love it up here,” said Epcott. “It’s quiet and people aren’t so relentlessly cheerful.”

  “Junian optimism can get a bit tiresome, can’t it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Still,” said Uqqex, “most of them mean well. Have you spoken to your friends, back in Ted Dov?”

  “I comm them,” said Epcott. “I think Vesu has a better idea as to why I’m here than Olu, which is just strange. After all, she’s the instructor in mental health.” He paused, gestured her forward. “Look there.”

  She followed his pointed finger, saw something glimmer among the tree trunks. “What is it?”

  “A starjelly flower.”

  They walked toward the shimmering blue glow. As they drew nearer, Uqqex decided the blossom was aptly named. It clung to the side of a knotlimb tree, a translucent bloom with large, fleshy petals. The petals were scattershot through with lambent blue veins.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Epcott nodded. “And deadly. Starjelly flowers are poisonous.”

  She drew back, studying the flower with new eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ve learned from personal experience that if it glows here, don’t mess with it.”

  “I sense a story there.”

  “Not much of one. After I first set up here, I was out exploring and walked through a bed of fireflowers.”

  She gave him a questioning look.

  “They secrete an irritant,” explained Epcott. “It burns like hell.”

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  He shrugged. “Live and learn. After that, I started researching the local wildlife so I could avoid any other unpleasant surprises.”

  “Was this before or after the spearbeaks attacked you?”

  “Before,” said Epcott. “I didn’t realize the cursed things had nesting grounds on the west side of the island, or I would have stayed clear of them.”

  They moved on, leaving the starjelly flower behind them. After a few moments of slogging through the snow, the knotlimbs thinned. They came out of them, onto a snowy hill. Epcott began to climb it and Uqqex followed, keeping a wary eye on the sky for any irate spearbeaks.

  At the top of the hill, she gasped. What she had thought was a hill was actually a cliff. It dropped away in front of her, into salty air. Below them, the beach was dark and still, except for the tide slapping against it. The water was dark and foamy.

  “During Clearsky,” said Epcott, “there’s a trail leading down to that beach. You can fish and dig clams to your heart’s content, and live entirely off what you catch.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Of course, after a while, you
get sick of eating that stuff and you want a bit of red meat. Maybe a pie. Something sweet.”

  “Is that what Ked and Teso were delivering?” asked Uqqex, amused. “Steaks and pies?”

  Epcott grinned. “Among other things.”

  “You’re being deliberately mysterious now.”

  “Am I?”

  Her lip twitched, revealing a hint of sharp canines. “You are. Why did you ask me out here, John?”

  “Because you’re the most honest person that I know, Uqqex, and I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “About what?”

  “Have you ever considered becoming a Junian citizen?”

  The question caught her by surprise. She frowned and turned to the sea. In the distance, dark silhouettes dove into the water. They emerged with writhing bodies impaled on long bills.

  “No,” said Uqqex.

  “I am.”

  She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got no place else to go.”

  “You’ve never thought about returning to your homeworld?”

  “What would be the point? It’s a graveyard. There’s no future for me there.”

  Uqqex frowned. “The Junians are just abandoning it?”

  “It’s a plague world. Who’d want to colonize a plague world?”

  “You’ve been doing your homework.”

  “I’ve made some inquiries,” admitted Epcott.

  “You know,” said Uqqex, “you don’t need to be a citizen to live on Juni. Taiaxa isn’t and she’s been here for ages.”

  “Tai has Zerraxi citizenship. I, on the other hand, am a legal nonentity with no official status. There is no one with authority to represent my wishes or protect my rights.”

  Uqqex frowned. She studied Epcott for a moment. “What aren’t you telling me, John?”

  A startled look flashed across his face, followed almost immediately by a rueful grin. “I should have known you’d see past the obvious.”

  “Well?”

  He looked down, gloved hands fidgeting with the clasps of the warmsuit. “You can’t join the Junian Guard if you’re not a citizen.”

  “You want to join the Guard?” Uqqex stared at him. “Why?”

  “I need to do something with my life,” said Epcott. “Something with meaning. Do you understand?”

  She snorted. “I’m an artist. Of course, I understand. Why the Guard?”

  “I think I’d like to see a bit more of the galaxy before I die. The Guard is the best way to do that.”

  “If you wanted to travel you could hire on with one of the offworld transport companies,” pointed out Uqqex.

  “If all I wanted to do was travel, I could buy my own ship. But I want to do more than that. My life needs a purpose. I need to contribute to something.”

  She frowned at him. “You could buy your own ship? How?”

  “Consultancy fees and some lucky investments.”

  “You’re making the specialists pay you to review their work.” Uqqex stared at him with newfound respect. “I had no idea.”

  He grinned. “How do you think I bought the island?”

  She blinked in surprise. “You own this rock? How much money do you have, John?”

  “Enough,” he said, evasively. “But we can discuss finances later. Right now, I’d like to hear what you think about me joining the Guard?”

  “I may not be the best person to ask. My history with the military hasn’t been pleasant.”

  “Ah.” He took a moment to reflect on this revelation. “So you have a bias?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that the reason it would be dangerous for you to go back home?”

  “Partly.”

  He touched her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  She shrugged. “They were stirring long before I came here.”

  Nodding, he took her hand. Silently, they stood on the cliff for a while, looking out to sea, watching the distant spearbeaks hunt.

  * * * * *

  Another storm rolled in that afternoon, sweeping down from the pole. As the wind began to scream through the knotlimb branches, Epcott and Uqqex retreated to the house. Epcott called up a weather forecast. The wallscreen displayed an image of the storm system and its projected course.

  “This one looks like it could last a while. We may be housebound until tomorrow.”

  Uqqex shrugged. “Fine with me.”

  He padded into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. How do you like your steaks?”

  “Rare,” said Uqqex. She sat at the bar and watched Epcott prepare the meal. “You never struck me as the domestic type.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as self-sufficient.”

  While the steaks were cooking, Epcott produced plates and cutlery. He brought out a large pot, filled it with water. A moment later, he removed the steaks from the cooker, placing them on ceramic plates to rest. Their place was taken by the pot of water, to which Epcott added the contents of a brown bag. A curious, spicy aroma filled the air. Uqqex found herself salivating.

  “What is that?”

  “Gi roots,” said Epcott.

  “I’ve never heard of them. Are they Junian?”

  “Yes, although Junians don’t eat them.”

  “Why not? They smell wonderful.”

  He glanced at her. “They do?”

  She tapped her nose. “Yes.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Epcott. “Ah! They’re done.” He removed the pot from the cooker, strained the roots over a recycling port and then deposited them in a bowl. They were pink and fleshy. Fragrant steam rose from them.

  “Why don’t Junians eat those?”

  Epcott brought the steaks over to the bar, then the roots. “Local prejudice. Gi roots are used as feed for pets.”

  Uqqex stared. “You’re feeding me pet food?”

  “I’m feeding you an undiscovered Junian delicacy,” said Epcott. “And they’re the closest thing to pasta I’ve found here.”

  “Do I want to know what pasta is?”

  He rolled his eyes. “A bread product on my homeworld.” Epcott reached into an overhead bin and brought down a bottle of wine. “I miss pasta,” he said, wistfully. “And milk. There are some days I think I’d kill for a nice cheese.”

  She nodded. “I miss betiyot stew, and xitmar jerky. I haven’t had either in years.”

  He opened the wine and went to another bin, removed a dish filled with a thick, reddish-brown sauce.

  “Tivju,” said Epcott, tapping the dish with a spoon. “Careful. It’s sweet, but hot.”

  “What do you do with it?”

  Epcott demonstrated, spooning a portion of gi roots onto his plate, next to one of the steaks. Then, he dribbled a spoonful of the the tivju over the roots. Uqqex inhaled, found the resultant combination of scents pleasant and stimulating. Cautiously, she tried the dish. The gi roots seemed to melt in her mouth.

  “You want to do something with meaning, John Epcott, you should cook.”

  He laughed and poured the wine.

  The meal passed in companionable silence. Uqqex ate the majority of the steaks, while Epcott did the same with the gi roots. They split the tivju between them. For dessert, Epcott produced a plate of avisav cookies.

  “That was a fine meal,” said Uqqex. She patted her stomach. “Perhaps too fine. I feel stuffed.”

  Epcott cleared the bar, dropping dirty dishes down the recycler port. Uqqex moved to the couch and Epcott joined her.

  “Weather update, please,” said Epcott.

  The wallscreen hummed to life, displaying regional weather patterns. Uqqex glanced at the room’s other wallscreens, the ones pumping real-time images into the house. Outside, it was dark and the air was filled with thick flurries of snow. The knotlimb trees danced sluggishly in the wind.

  “How often do these storms come up?”

 
; “At least once a month,” said Epcott. “It’s the season. But this one is bigger than most.”

  “How much bigger?”

  Before Epcott could answer, the wallscreen began to flash. “Emergency,” declared a sexless automated voice. “Emergency. Distress beacon detected.”

  “Display source,” snapped Epcott.

  The wallscreen rippled, the weather map replaced with another image. Nikosu Island was highlighted in hot pink. From the north, a small blue sphere appeared, weaving erratically.

  “Emergency. Distress beacon detected.” The housebrain repeated. “Privacy settings have been disengaged.”

  Uqqex glanced at Epcott, saw he was frowning.

  “What is the nature of the emergency?”

  “Unknown,” reported the housebrain.

  Epcott’s frown grew deeper. “Relay the signal to the Emergency Authority and activate the airfield systems. Power up the illuminators and the directional beacon.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Epcott turned to Uqqex. “It looks like we’re going to have some unscheduled guests. Wait here, please.”

  He walked to the entryway and began to pull on the pink warmsuit. Uqqex joined him, pulling on her cloak. Epcott frowned at her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going with you. You don’t know how many people are in that transport. If they crash, you could need help.”

  “If they crash,” said Epcott, sealing up the suit. “If they’re in actual distress.”

  She frowned. “You think they could be faking the distress beacon?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried a stunt like this,” said Epcott, grimly.

  Uqqex was a bit unnerved when Epcott stuck the scrambler to his suit. He saw her expression, but didn’t comment. Instead, he pulled the air-sled out of the closet, powered it up and began to load it with an emergency medical kit, several thermal blankets and his other warmsuit.

  “Ready?” he asked, slipping on his helmet.

  Uqqex nodded. The presence of the scrambler bothered her, but she said nothing. Epcott pulled the door open. They stepped into the roaring wind.

  “Yazat’s balls!” swore Uqqex. The arctic wind roared through the gaps in the knotlimb trees, staggering her.

  “Go back in!” shouted Epcott. His voice was weirdly distorted by the warmsuit’s helmet.

  “No!” Uqqex lowered her head and bared her teeth. “You’ll need help!”