Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing

by George R. Shirer

  “That has statements from the rest of the crew.”

  Desu copied the files to her own PIN. “Thank you.”

  Jebim nodded. His head was bobbing, his eyes hooded. “You should read mine first,” said the old man. “Quickly.” His grin was self-deprecating. “I don’t think I’ll be available for questions much longer.”

  The trio from the Star left. Desu waited until they were back by the elevator before she spoke. “Opinions? Impressions?”

  “Those people have been through fire,” said Tomo.

  The First gave him withering look. “I think that goes without saying, Tomo. Do you have anything more constructive to add?”

  “Not at the moment, ma’am.”

  “Pucala?”

  “Obviously, we’ll need to review all the statements before making a formal report,” said the medic. “Mister Jebim’s condition could be affecting his recollections.”

  “No one else there contested what he said,” pointed out Desu.

  “With all due respect, ma’am,” said Tomo, “those people probably aren’t inclined to cast aspersions on anything their self-appointed leader has said.”

  Reluctantly, the First had to agree.

  * * * * *

  Administrator Sej met them in the lobby. Accompanying him was a dark-skinned man with short red hair, wearing the gray robes of a Devotee of Oba. Sej made introductions.

  “First Officer Desu, this is Proctor Levajosu.”

  The proctor inclined his head, and kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves. “First Officer.”

  “Proctor.” Desu glanced at Sej, but the administrator was frowning at a PIN.

  “The administrator was kind enough to let me know that you had arrived,” said Levajosu. “You’ve just come from interviewing Mr. Jebim?”

  “You know him?”

  “My associates and I were traveling on the Harmonious Maiden,” explained Levajosu.

  Desu blinked. “I’m sorry, proctor, I had forgotten.”

  “I was wondering when you would like to interview us. As you can imagine, we have a great deal of work to do, to establish our cloister.”

  “Of course,” said Desu. “Officer Tomo and Officer Pucala can accompany you to your quarters, and start right now, if it’s convenient.”

  The proctor looked as surprised as her officers did, but the man nodded. “Of course. We’ve taken temporary lodgings in one of the outer towers. If you’ll follow me, officers.”

  “First?” Tomo shot Desu a questioning look.

  “I’m going to be speaking to Administrator Sej for a while,” said Desu. “Make a start on the interviews, and then meet me back at the capsule platform in three hours.”

  Tomo nodded and fell into step behind Pucala and the proctor.

  Sej put away his PIN, and glowered at the officer. “What can I do for you, First?”

  “I’d like to see all the colony comm logs since the attack.”

  “Easily done. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” said Desu. “I’d like to know what happened to the Maiden?”

  The old man shrugged. “After we evacuated the survivors, the ship’s orbit decayed. It crashed on the far side of the planet.”

  “You have the coordinates?”

  “Of course,” said Sej. “Do you want someone to fly you there?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Desu. “I’ll take my own transport.”

  * * * * *

  The three senior officers of the Crimson Star had gathered in one of the ship’s conference rooms. It had been three days since their arrival at Napiso. Three days spent reviewing info, interviewing the survivors of the Maiden, analyzing the wreckage of the starship that had survived crashing into the planet’s surface.

  Pucala dropped her PIN to the tabletop and rubbed her eyes. “I think I’ll go blind if I have to look at another file.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Desu, placing her own PIN on the table. “I think we’ve reached consensus.”

  “The Maiden flew into a ripper,” said Tomo.

  “After her First breached protocol, refusing assistance to the colony,” added Pucala. The medic seemed to have taken a grudge against the fallen ship’s First Officer, after listening to the comm logs between the colony and the Harmonious Maiden.

  “What I’d like to know,” said the defender, “is where in the Wastes, the Sewkari managed to get their hands on a ripper?”

  “There are bound to be a few floating around out there,” said Desu. “They probably scavenged it.”

  “A functional ripper?” Tomo said. “That’s awfully coincidental, First.”

  “Maybe,” admitted Desu. “But that’s not what we’re here to discuss.” She picked up her PIN, opened a file. “We all agree the loss of the Harmonious Maiden and the majority of her crew was due to hostile actions. Yes?”

  Second and Third Officers nodded their assent.

  “Actions that could have been prevented if her First Officer had followed protocol.”

  “Yes,” said Pucala.

  Tomo shook his head. “What was the man thinking? Chasing after a Sewkari ship with no backup and no idea if he was running into an ambush!”

  “Only the gods know now,” said Desu. “Any other official comments before we seal this file and send it homeward?”

  “Commendations,” said Tomo, firmly. “Although most of the survivors were ready to sit down and die, a handful of the crew got them up and moving again. Those guardsmen should receive some recognition.”

  “Agreed,” said Desu. “Recommendations?”

  “Medic Nodomi Hisuni,” said Tomo. “Defender Nevopil Sebo.”

  “Guardsman Pimuqi Ese,” said Desu. “Fifth Allocator Tes Jebim. Posthumously.”

  “And Guardsman John Epcott,” added Pucala.

  Tomo nodded. “Yes. Epcott, especially. His name shows up in almost every interview. Popular fellow.”

  “He wasn’t popular with everyone,” said Pucala. “The personal logs we’ve recovered make it clear that the Maiden’s First didn’t think much of him.”

  “And that most of the crew didn’t think much of their First’s attitude,” added Desu.

  “It’s interesting,” said Tomo. “Why didn’t Epcott succumb to the same fatalism as the others?”

  “He’s an alien,” said Pucala. “Obviously, his psychology is less susceptible to the mass dynamic. If Epcott hadn’t been there, there might not have been any survivors at all.”

  Desu picked up her PIN, opened the file on Epcott. She studied his image. His dark hair, his blue eyes. The slight smile that looked oddly fragile.

  “Should we set him apart?” asked the First. “Suggest a special commendation?”

  Pucala and Tomo both nodded. Desu made the note, and sealed the file.

  * * * * *

  It was after midnight on Napiso, and the last transport to the Crimson Star was waiting to depart. Most of the guardsmen had returned to the Star, but there were a couple of stragglers. The transport still had an hour to go before its scheduled departure, plenty of time for the remaining guardsmen to make their way to the landing bay.

  First Officer Desu was one of the stragglers. She had had a difficult day, spent in private conference with Administrator Sej and his associates. The colonists had just been coming out of their shock when the Crimson Star arrived, and now it seemed their numbness had given way to anger.

  In light of recent events, the administrative council was demanding a permanent Guard presence on Napiso. They were sending two messages, one to the Colonial Authority and the other to the Junian Assembly itself, listing their demands and outlining their reasons for them.

  Deso wished them luck, but doubted that the colonists would get what they wanted. More likely, in view of the attack and the loss of life, the Colonial Authority would call for the abandonment of Napiso.

  Tired and stressed, Deso had decided to walk through the colony’s gardens on her way back to the ship. At this
late hour, the gardens were almost abandoned. Light-spheres drifted along their preprogrammed routes, illuminators set to minimum. Misters and sprinklers activated, bathing the foliage in precious water. A pair of uniformed peacekeepers drifted past her, nodding as they went. Two old women, wearing mourning-white, did not even acknowledge Deso’s presence. She had almost reached the other side of the gardens, could see the capsule platform gleaming in the dark, when she stumbled across the guardsman.

  He was sprawled on the lawn, legs and arms spread wide. For a moment, Deso thought he was injured or ill. Then, noticing her presence, the fellow sat up. As he did, his jet-black hair came into view.

  “Guardsman Epcott,” said Deso.

  His blue eyes seemed to shimmer in the light. They flitted over her uniform, her insignia. He inclined his head. “First Officer. I don’t believe we’ve actually met.”

  She watched him stand, absently brush grass from his shipsuit. He seemed completely at ease.

  “We haven’t,” said Deso. “But I’ve heard about you.”

  A wry smile flitted across his face. “Good things or bad?”

  “Good,” she said. “Walk with me back to the transport.”

  She had meant to make it a question, but it came out as a command. Epcott fell into step beside her.

  “What were you doing in the gardens by yourself?”

  “Praying.”

  His answer caught her off guard. “I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

  “No, I was done. When you came along, I was just enjoying the silence. And you, First? May I ask what you were doing, walking alone through the park?”

  “I was heading back to the transport,” she said. “After a very long day with the administrative council.”

  “Ah. Is Administrator Sej still being prickly?”

  Desu glanced at him. “I see you’ve met him.”

  “He lost three of his children and one of his grandchildren in the Sewkari attack,” said Epcott. “I think he’s entitled to be a little prickly.”

  His answer made her frown. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “I don’t think he knows how to grieve,” said Epcott. “Did you notice? Even when he’s around other people, he pulls out his PIN and doesn’t interact.”

  “I . . . hadn’t noticed,” admitted Desu. “He wasn’t wearing white.”

  “He told me he doesn’t have time to mourn.”

  “You spoke with him?”

  “A few times,” said John. “At the communal pool.”

  “If I had known....”

  He glanced at her. “Would it have affected your dealings with him?”

  “Maybe,” said Desu.

  They had reached the capsule platform. An infoscreen advised that the next capsule to the landing bay would be along in seven minutes. Desu watched Epcott produce his PIN and power it up, start studying something on the screen.

  “You should know,” she said suddenly, “that your crewmates from the Maiden think very highly of you.”

  “Do they?” He seemed surprised. “I was only aboard for a few weeks, catching a ride to Shrouded Jewel.”

  “They do. Most of them credit their survival to you.”

  He frowned, as if he wasn’t happy to hear that.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” said Desu, “but in our report, we set you apart for a special commendation.”

  “That’s . . .” He hesitated, frowned. “I’m not sure how to feel about that. I did what had to be done, ma’am.”

  She nodded, wondering at the nature of his modesty. “You weren’t the only one.”

  “Oh. Good. A lot of people deserved recognition. Pim. Nodomi. Mister Jebim.”

  “They’ve got it,” she told him. “At least, as far as myself and my colleagues are concerned. The official recognition will have to come from the Committee of Inquiry.”

  “I hope the others get it,” said John.

  “Them and not you?”

  He offered her a lopsided smile. “I stand out enough, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. “There’s no arguing that.”

  The capsule arrived and they climbed into it. Epcott returned his attention to his PIN, scrolling through lines of text. Desu sat beside him, contemplating what she had just learned about Administrator Sej. Had she actually spoken with the man about anything other than the attack and the destruction of the Harmonious Maiden? She couldn’t remember.

  The capsule sealed and they shot through the tunnel connecting the colony with its landing bay. She glanced at Epcott.

  “You’re very perceptive, guardsman.”

  He looked at her, smiled. “A survival trait I picked up a while ago, ma’am.”

  She nodded, slipping that bit of information away for later consideration. “Have you given any thought to specializing? Or do you plan to keep floating?”

  “Actually,” said John, “I’ve recently begun considering a specialist position.” He handed her his PIN.

  Desu glanced at the screen. Her brow wrinkled in surprise. “Command protocols?”

  “If I’m going to stand out, ma’am, I might as well stand out in a big way.”

  “I can’t fault that logic,” said Desu. She handed his PIN back to him.

  A moment later, they arrived at the landing bay. They boarded the transport, the final two guardsmen to leave Napiso. A few moments later, the landing bay’s dome blossomed and the transport rose, to vanish into the darkness.

  Rainsky

  5820

  Junian Calendar

  Olu Teneso was studying her reflection when the door-chimes sounded. Frowning, she lowered her hand mirror and crossed to her front door, hoping whoever was there would not linger. Today, Olu had no time for guests. Opening the door, she let out a gasp of surprise.

  “John!”

  Grinning, John stepped into Olu’s spread arms, picking her up and whirling her about as if she were a child. Laughing, Olu slapped his shoulder and was set back on her feet.

  “We thought you weren’t going to make it!”

  “I didn’t think I was, but then I was able to catch a transport from Station Six at the last minute.”

  “Iseta will be thrilled!” Olu pulled him into the house and shut the door. “You are coming to the wedding?”

  John tapped his shoulder bag. “I’ve got my clothes right here.”

  Smiling, Olu let her gaze wander over the young man. John was wearing the green and black uniform of the Junian Guard. He had put on muscle and his eyes were brighter than they had been, the last time Olu had seen him. His black hair was longer and looked lustrous.

  “You look good. I think the Guard suits you.” Her gaze drifted to his shoulder insignia and her eyes widened. “You’ve been promoted!”

  John chuckled. “First Officer Nezu’s doing, I’m afraid.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “You look good too, Olu. I like the makeup.”

  Belatedly, Olu remembered that she was wearing her wedding face. Normally, her eyepaint was discreet and minimal as befitted a mature woman. But today, Olu’s makeup was complex and traditional. Her entire face was covered in thick golden facepaint, decorated with complicated purple whorls, while her eyelids and lips had been painted silver.

  “It took forever to put on,” said Olu.

  “And it won’t even take five minutes to take off,” joked John. He glanced around the daychamber. “Where’s Vesu?”

  “Holding vigil at the temple. He’s been there all night, fasting and praying.”

  “Vesu? Fasting?”

  Olu laughed. “I know. That just goes to show how very fond of Iseta he actually is.” Abruptly, chimes began to ring. Olu sighed and said, loudly, “Acknowledged.”

  She saw John’s questioning look and explained. “I have half an hour to get to the temple.”

  “Well, I’d better get changed. Shall I meet you there?”

  “Could you? I would linger, John, but I have to organize the wedding party.” Olu scowled
. “Anu should be doing that, but she’s utterly useless when it comes to organization.”

  “Your sister, right?”

  “Iseta’s mother.”

  “You know, I’m looking forward to meeting your sisters, Olu. You never talk about them very much.”

  “And after you’ve met them, you’ll understand why.”

  * * * * *

  The wedding was being held at a local temple, southeast of Ted Dov. A circular building of lavender marble with a domed roof, it occupied the center of a shallow lake. A wooden pontoon bridge, hung with luminous banners, connected the temple to the shore.

  There was a large groundcar station on the lakeshore, next to a reception hall. As soon as John’s car had parked itself, he climbed out and hurried toward the temple. The wedding was due to start at dawn, and he didn’t want to be late. He’d studied Junian wedding etiquette when he had gotten the announcement. Barging in after the ceremony started would be extremely bad manners.

  The same etiquette had dictated John’s outfit. He would have been happier to attend in his uniform, but this was a formal ceremony. As such, he had dressed appropriately in an ankle-length sunset orange underrobe, a dark purple overrobe covered with stylized red flowers and traditional wooden sandals. Arriving barefaced wouldn’t do either so John had painted a simple lavender strip across his eyes, rimmed with pale blue, dusted with fine sparkle-powder.

  The temple loomed above him now, its circular doors still open. John was relieved to spot other wedding guests standing outside, hands touching ears, obviously on their comms. He nodded at them in passing and swept through the temple doors.

  Inside, he found a brightly dressed crowd. Curious glances were cast his way and John’s swift appraisal of the other guests confirmed his suspicion; he was the only alien present. He plastered a smile on his face.

  There were about a hundred people gathered around a circular pool filled with crystalline water. The dome rose over their heads, its inner surface decorated with colorful murals depicting the various gods of the Junian pantheon. John recognized a few. Uxipe. Jeso. Lebalo. Podu.

  “You like the mural?”

  John turned and found himself facing an elderly woman with short, white hair and fine, pale skin. Her eyepaint was a riot of purple, yellow and red. It matched the color scheme of her formal robes precisely.