Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (17 page)

Inside,
 
the transport’s illuminators were flickering.
 
Epcott was at the front of the vehicle, at the control panel, slapping the board.
 
The lights flickered once more, and then died.
 
Uqqex heard someone release a frightened cry.
 
She wasn’t sure if it was the girl or herself.

Emergency illuminators activated, casting wan light over the transport’s interior.
 
Uqqex saw the girl again, standing with her arms wrapped around a small child.
 
The girl had shoulder-length dark blue hair and the bland, pretty face of a porcelain doll.
 
Her eyes were red from crying, and there was vomit staining the shoulder of her shirt.

The child in her arms was keening, its face buried against the girl’s chest.
 
Uqqex couldn’t tell the toddler’s gender, but from the noise it was making she assumed it was fine.

She turned back to the front of the transport.
 
Epcott was kneeling between the pilot and copilot’s seats.
 
The youth in the pilot’s chair didn’t look any older than the girl.
 
In the dim light, his face was pale and drawn.
 
Epcott had his hand on the boy’s knee, speaking to him.
 
Uqqex couldn’t hear what Epcott said, over the roar of the storm, but she saw the youth nod.
 
 
Epcott stood.

“Uqqex, would you bring in the warmsuit?
 
And the thermal blankets?”

She nodded, fighting an instinctive reluctance to venture into the dark.
 
A few moments later, the youth who had been piloting the craft was wearing the second warmsuit.
 
It fit him badly, Epcott being at least a head taller.
 

They loaded the girl and the child onto the air-sled, wrapping them in the thermal blankets.
 
Epcott rummaged through the transport’s storage bins and produced another emergency medical case and several pressure-torches.
 
He passed the torches to Uqqex, who clutched them tightly, causing them to spill warm light across the snow.
 
They retraced their path to the house as quickly as possible.

* * * * *

 
The wallscreen was flashing pink and blue when they stumbled into the house.
 
 
“Priority Comm from Emergency Authority,” declared the housebrain.
 

“Connect,” snapped Epcott.
 

The image of an older man with pale skin and large features appeared on the screen.
 
His dark red hair was going gray at the roots.
 
He wore the blue and pink uniform of a peacekeeper.

“John, is that you?”
 
The man leaned forward, squinting at his own screen.

“It’s me, Imzo,” said Epcott, wearily.

“Your house relayed a distress beacon, then we lost the signal.
 
You all right?”

“Fine,” said Epcott.
 

The peacekeeper nodded.
 
“Was it more newsmakers?”

“Not this time.
 
I’ve got a crashed transport in my airfield.”

Imzo frowned.
 
“Anyone wounded?”

Epcott glanced at the three strangers.
 
“They’re just shook up.”

“Thank the pantheon,” muttered Imzo.
 
“Listen, John, it’s going to take us a while to get out there.
 
We’re getting distress calls from all over the province.
 
Is it alright if . . . .?”

“It’s fine,” said Epcott.
 
“Get to us when you can.”

The peacekeeper nodded.
 
“Good. I’ll contact you before we send out the retrieval crew.
 
It’ll probably be sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Comm me,” said Epcott.
 
“I’m resetting privacy.”

The peacekeeper nodded.
 
“Understood.
 
We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The wallscreen went gray, and then vanished, mimicking the color of the surrounding wall.
 
Epcott took a breath, held it for a moment, and then released it.
 
“House, reset privacy, please.”

“Acknowledged.”

Epcott turned to the crash victims.
 
They stood in a pale, nervous huddle.
 
In the safety of his house, Uqqex thought they looked much younger.
 
She stood behind them, the thermal blankets draped over her arm.
 

“Well,” said Epcott, forcing a smile.
 
“I think we can skip formal introductions, until everyone is cleaned up.
 
Right? Right.
 
The wetchamber is this way.”

* * * * *

Half an hour later, the crash victims were clean and dressed in borrowed clothing.
 
They settled on the couch, glancing around the room.
 
Uqqex thought the girl and the boy’s eyes were nearly as wide as the child’s was.

Epcott appeared with a bottle and several cups.
 
He passed the cups out, and then proceeded to fill them, almost to overflowing, from the bottle.
 
Even, Uqqex noted, the child’s cup.

“So,” said Epcott, squatting on the carpeted floor.
 
“My name is John.”
 
He nodded towards Uqqex.
 
“That’s Uqqex.
 
Who are you three?”

The young man took a sip from his cup and nearly choked.
 
“What is this?”

“Sleepwine,” said John.
 
“It’ll calm your nerves and help with gravity sickness.”

The boy blinked, nodded, and then took a tentative sip.
 
“It’s . . . strong.”

“It’ll get easier to swallow, the more you drink,” said Epcott.
 
“Now, you are?”

“I’m Kaz Rom,” said the young man.
 
“That’s my house-sister, Sef, and her son, Tijo.”

“You’re the Last Human,” blurted out Sef.
 
She sat with her son on her lap.
 
Uqqex noted she had already taken several gulps of the sleepwine.

“Yes,” said Epcott.
 
He turned back to Kaz.
 
“What happened up there?”

Kaz frowned and shook his head.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Honestly.
 
We were traveling to Timis Dov, taking a polar route when our contragrav started to fail.”

Epcott frowned.
 
“Who approved your flight path?”

“The Transport Authority,” said Kaz.
 
He took another sip of sleepwine, and licked his lips.
 
“You know, you’re right.
 
This is easier to swallow, the more you drink.”

“Most spirits are,” said Epcott.

“Why did you ask about the flight plan?” Sef asked.
 

She had drained her cup and now helped her son with his own drink.
 
From the face the child made, Uqqex assumed he didn’t care for sleepwine, despite its restorative qualities.

“Because you don’t pilot a contragrav transport over the magnetic poles,” said Epcott.
 
“I’m betting that’s what caused your drive to misalign.”

Kaz stared.
 
“Our drive was misaligned?”

“Looks that way from the damage to your hull,” said Epcott.
 
“The spiral shearing is a dead giveaway.
 
You’re lucky you didn’t come apart in the air.”

The tips of Kaz’s fingertips throbbed with blood.
 
“We are?”

“You are.
 
Still, any landing you can walk away from is a good one.”

Sef tilted her head.
 
“I’ve never heard that before.”

“It’s a human expression,” explained Epcott.
 

The girl nodded, and tightened her grip on her son.

“You have relatives in Timis Dov?” said Uqqex.
 
“I gave a lecture there, at Hom University last Clearsky.”

“You’re an instructor?” asked Sef.

“Just a writer,” said Uqqex.
 
“Timis Dov is a lovely city.
 
All those mountains!
 
And the Valley of a Thousand Pools!”

“One of our house-fathers has a brother there,” said Kaz.
 
“He’s who we were going to visit.”

“Oh?” Uqqex smiled.
 
“What’s his name?
 
Timis Dov isn’t that large.
 
Perhaps I met him.”

“I doubt it,” said Sef.
 

“His name is Tez Jesav,” offered Kaz.
 
“He’s one of the city administrators.”

“Hmm.”
 
Uqqex shook her head.
 
“The name isn’t familiar.”

On Sef’s lap, Tijo had begun to yawn.
 
His eyelids drooped.
 
Sef plucked the cup of half-empty sleepwine from the child’s slack hands.
 
“He’s exhausted.”

“I imagine so,” said Epcott.
 
He gathered the cups.
 
“I bet you’re all tired. I’ll show you your bedchamber.
 
Uqqex, do you mind sleeping with me?”

The Zerraxi woman arched her eyebrows in surprise.
 
“Not at all.”

“Well, then,” said Epcott, “let’s get these kids tucked in.
 
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

* * * * *

 
The storm raged.
 
Uqqex sat on John’s bed, one of the wallscreen’s displaying a real-time image of the storm outside.
 
The sturdy knotlimbs were swaying in the high winds, making Uqqex think of them as overweight figures, dancing ponderously.
 
It was an amusing thought.

The door to the bedchamber opened and Epcott stepped inside.
 
“The kids are sound asleep.”

“Do you believe their story?”

“Don’t you?”

She snorted and stroked the side of her nose.
 
“I can tell when someone is lying to me.”

“Really?”

“The Zerraxi nose is very sensitive.”

He sat on the bed, facing the storm.
 
“For what it’s worth, their story didn’t make sense.
 
The Transport Authority would never send a contragrav vehicle over the magnetic poles.
 
What do you think they’re hiding?”

She shrugged.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Do you think they engineered the crash to meet you?”

“No.
 
They were shocked when we showed up at the field.”

Uqqex eyed the bedchamber door.
 
“Do you think they’re dangerous?”

“No.
 
Just scared.”

“Yes.”
 
She yawned and shifted on the bed.
 
“Well, as far as weekend getaways go, John, this one hasn’t been boring.”

He snorted.
 
“I think I’d have preferred boring.”

Chuckling, she climbed off the bed.
 
“How do you want to sleep?”

“You can have the bed.
 
I’ll take the floor.”

She glared at him.
 
“I’m insulted.”

“What?”
 
Epcott looked at her, confused.
 
“Why?”

“Do you fear so much for your virtue, John Epcott, that you’d rather sleep on the floor than in bed with me?”