Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (16 page)

“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!”

He glared at her, but didn’t argue.
 
Turning, he started walking into the forest.
 
She followed, head lowered, focusing on the blinking lights of the air-sled.
 
The wind shrieked, plucking at her long hair and her cloak.
 
Her heart was pounding, adrenaline surging through her
system as it adjusted to the cold, reacted to her stress.
 
She could feel the skin on her face contracting, the pores sealing up in an effort to conserve precious body heat.

They staggered through the storm, the airfield visible now, a white blaze shining through the trees.
 
 
 
Epcott stopped before they reached it and Uqqex staggered next to him.
 
She leaned in, close to his helmet.

“What’s going on?” She had to shout to be heard over the storm.

“Transport’s coming in wild,” Epcott shouted back.
 

“Where?” Lifting her head, she tried to peer through the frenzied waving of the knotlimb branches.

Epcott hesitated, and Uqqex squinted against the landing field’s lights.
 
Her eyes were adapted for the harsh brightness of her homeworld.
 
She spotted the transport, clutched Epcott’s arm.
 

“There!”

Soon, the transport came into view.
 
It was low, skimming the treetops, its teardrop body emitting erratic pulses of scarlet light.
 
Without warning, it smashed through the trees and ploughed into the airfield.
 
Its momentum caused it to sled through the thigh-high snow.
 

Uqqex heard Epcott utter what she assumed was a human obscenity as the transport plowed into one of the airfield’s illuminators.
 
The tower folded with a scream of twisting metal, and the entire airfield was plunged into darkness.
 
The only light sources were Epcott’s warmsuit and the blinking lights of the air-sled.
 

Primal fear clawed at Uqqex’s mind.
 
She clenched her fists and stuck close to Epcott, as the man hurried toward the crash site.

As they drew near the transport, Uqqex saw that its hull was badly distorted. She could see cracks spiraling around the vehicle from one end to the other.
 
As she stood there, she saw another start to appear.
 

“John!”
 
She grabbed his shoulder, pointed at the hull.

Epcott swore again and hurried to the vehicle.
 
It had landed, thankfully, on its belly.
 
The hatch was accessible, pale light spilling around its edges.
 
He pounded on it.

After a second, the hatch shifted, opened.
 
Uqqex caught a glimpse of a Junian girl standing in the doorway, looking pale and terrified.
 
Epcott pushed past her, into the transport and Uqqex followed.