Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (35 page)

John touched Jata’s arm, nodded at the Guard Officer.
 
“Who’s that?”

“Third Guard Officer Velu.”

“What in the world is a Guard Officer doing here?”

“She’s my wife, Epcott.”

Startled, John turned.
 
Behind him stood a short, stout man with coarse, dark skin and short gray hair.
 
He wore the stiff green and black formal robes of a Guardsman, with the blue sash of a ship’s officer.

Jata arched an eyebrow.
 
“Someone actually married you, you old bonegrinder?”

Odosu Sufo grunted, and fought to suppress a grin.
 
“It’s good to see you too, Fex.”

Snorting, they hugged.
 
The old medic barely came up to Jata’s breastbone.
 
He turned to John and eyed him.

“You’re looking well, Epcott.”

“You too, First Medic.”
 
John glanced across the room, where the Guard Officer was watching the exchange with raised eyebrows.
 
“We never knew you were married.”

Sufo shrugged.
 
“I was young, foolish and hopelessly in love.
 
Come along, I’ll introduce you.”

“I don’t think I’m sober enough to meet a Guard Officer,” protested Jata.

The old medic chuckled.
 
“Trust me, Fex.
 
Being drunk is the best way to meet a Guard Officer.”

Sufo herded them across the room, to where his wife waited with the red-sashed Fleet Officer.
 
Sufo made introductions.
 
Iluso Velu brushed their palms and gave Jata an appraising look.
 

“So, you’re my husband’s favorite quarreling partner.”

“Fex isn’t my favorite,” protested Sufo, slipping his arm around his wife’s waist.
 
“I like arguing with you more, Iluso.”

“You mean you like making up with me more,” said the Fleet Officer, chuckling.
 
Her gaze turned to John.
 
“And the famous John Epcott.”

“I wouldn’t say famous, ma’am,” protested John.

Guard Officer Velu reached out and tapped the orange ribbon on John’s sash.
 
“I would disagree with you, Mr. Epcott.
 
Everyone at Guard Command knows what you did at Napiso.”

“I just kept people alive, ma’am.”

“You say that as if it was an easy thing to do,” interjected the red-sashed Fleet Officer.
 
Sufo had introduced him as Dodimo Lujo, Seventh Officer of the Second Fleet.

John shrugged, and glanced away from the group.
 
He spotted Fel, standing uncertainly a little ways away.
 
Smiling, John waved him forward.
 
 
The young guardsman obeyed, a bit reluctantly.

Jata glanced at Fel and sighed.
 
“Thank the pantheon.
 
Tell me the bartender had some health pills.”

“Yes, ma’am.”
 
Fel handed Jata three tablets and a glass of water.

Sufo laughed as Jata swallowed the pills.
 
“Started celebrating early, Jata?”

“Maybe a little.”

Fel started to step away from the group, but John reached out and caught his elbow.
 
“First Medic, I don’t think you’ve met Guardsman Ezep.”

Sufo glanced at the youth.
 
“No, I haven’t.
 
How old are you, young man?”

“Seventeen, sir,” said Fel, automatically snapping to attention.

“At ease, guardsman,” said Fleet Officer Velu, openly amused.
 
“We’re not going to bite.”

“Fel is one of Instructor Homu’s prize students,” said John.

“Is that so?” said Sufo.
 
He eyed the young man.
 
“What’s one of Homu’s skullkickers doing here?”

“First Officer Fex brought me, sir,” said Fel.

Eyes wide, Sufo turned to Jata.
 
“First Officer Fex?”

“That’s me,” said Jata.

“Sweet pantheon.”
 
The old medic chuckled.
 
“It seems I’m getting out of the Guard just in time if they’re making Jata Fex a First Officer.”

Velu flicked her husband’s ear.
 
“Be nice, Odosu.”

“That’s all right, ma’am,” said Jata, deadpan.
 
“I know he only teases me because he loves me.”

“Like a granddaughter,” added John.

“A great granddaughter even,” said Jata.

“Old age jokes at my retirement banquet,” said Sufo.
 
“Classy.
 
You two should put together a show and take it on tour.”

“Oh Sufo,” sighed Fleet Officer Velu.
 
“You’re not funny enough to provide material for an entire show.”

The medic glowered at his wife.

“Even if you are old as the tides,” she added, after a moment’s thought.

* * * * *

 
Letasu Jeffi had taken over the welcome desk in the lobby and directed a stream of people toward the retirement banquet. The last visitors had arrived a little while ago, leaving Letasu with nothing to do but comm her friends and run efficiency analyses of the hotel’s info system.
 
She was, quite frankly, bored out of her mind.

So, when the lobby doors opened, she perked up and welcomed the newcomers with a genuine smile.
 
The smile didn’t flicker as Letasu saw that the newcomers were Jurkuroi.
 
The Hotel Tako prided itself on being a cosmopolitan hostelry.
 
They had served offworld guests before and Letasu knew they would again.

The Jurkuroi were a smallish people.
 
Most weren’t taller than five feet.
 
They were dusky skinned, with long thick hair that was often streaked.
 
To the Junian eye, their features were generally pleasant, with slightly up-tilted noses, wide eyes and small, expressive mouths.
 

There was nothing out of the ordinary about this group, in Letasu’s limited experience.
 
An older male wearing a brown shipsuit beneath his orange cloak, approached the desk.

“Excuse me, young lady.
 
Is this the Hotel Tako?”

“Yes, sir.
 
How can I help you?”

“We’re here for the Sufo retirement banquet,” said the Jurkuroi, smiling.

“Oh! I think they’ve already started the meal, but it’s just down the hallway, in the Ruby Room.”

“Thank you,” said the Jurkuroi.
 
“Nodicwi.”

He stepped aside and a younger Jurkuroi stepped forward, holding some kind of perfume bottle.
 
Smiling, the Jurkuroi directed a fine mist into Letasu’s face.
 
She jerked back, startled, before her eyes rolled up and she collapsed, unconscious.

“Seal the doors,” ordered the older Jurkuroi,
Savogh
.
 
“Lock this place down.”

Hoxo, their infospecialist, nodded and walked around the welcome desk.
 
Nodicwi had pulled the unconscious girl out of the way.
 

“The hotel is sealed,
gorxoar
,” reported Hoxo. “And I’m using the building’s comm repeater to set up an interference barrier.
 
No one inside will be able to comm anyone outside.”

Savogh
nodded.
 
“Zej, make sure this floor is secure. Nodicwi, prepare out little party favor.”

Nodicwi was kneeling by the unconscious Letasu.
 
“What about the girl, sir?
 
She’s pretty enough to bring us a good price at the slave markets on Olqan Five.”

Savogh
snorted.
 
“Stop thinking with your glands,
urwak
.
 
We’re not here for profit, we’re here for vengeance.
 
Do your job and leave the thinking to your betters.”

* * * * *

 
“It looks like Sufo’s having a good time,” said John.

Jata glanced up from her fish soup and followed John’s gaze.
 
Sufo was seated at the central table, laughing and chatting with his tablemates.

“Don’t tell the old bonegrinder I said this, John, but he deserves this.”

“Why, Jata Fex!
 
Are you going soft on the old man?”

“Maybe a little.”

“That’s sweet.”

Jata scowled, brandished her tableware.
 
“Careful there, guardsman.
 
I’ve got a spoon and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Seated next to Jata, Fel Ezep watched this banter with a bemused grin.
 
His gaze swept over the aptly named Ruby Room.
 
The hotel’s red color scheme continued here, but mercifully, the surfaces weren’t covered with plush velvet, and whoever had designed the room, had used different shades of red in the decor.
 
Small, circular tables were arrayed around the room, in a loose spiral, with the central table occupied by the guest of honor.
 
Fine linen tablecloths covered the tables, which were set with handcrafted glass place settings.
 
Bouquets of faintly luminescent flowers, green and blue as well as red, sat in the center of the tables.

Young, attractive wait staff moved about the Ruby Room, depositing fresh dishes, bearing away used plates and replenishing drinks.
 
Fel noticed, though, that a small knot of servers had formed around the room’s circular door.
 
An older man was poking at a small infoscreen, looking irritated.

“What’s going on over there?”

Jata looked over and shrugged.
 
“It looks like they’re having a problem with the doors.”

John frowned.
 
“You’d think they would have run some routine maintenance before the party began.”

Fel put aside his spoon and started to rise.
 
“I think I’ll go check it out.”

“It’s probably nothing, Fel,” said Jata.

“Probably, ma’am.
 
But I’ll feel better if I know that for sure.”

After he’d left the table, John glanced at Jata and grinned.
 
“You can definitely tell he’s one of Homu’s students.”

Fel made his way through the tables, smiling and nodding.
 
As he approached the door, he heard the older server swearing under his breath.
 
The man was scowling at the infoscreen set into the wall, next to the doorway.

“Excuse me,” said Fel.
 
“Is there some sort of problem?”

The older server looked up, fingertips rosy with embarrassment.
 
“Ah. Sir. No, no problem.
 
Not really.”

“The doors are stuck,” said one of the others.

“Celejo!”
 

The older man glowered at the server who’d spoken.
 
The younger man shrugged and grinned, good-naturedly.
 

“I’m sorry, sir.
 
There’s obviously an error in the system, but I’m sure we’ll have it worked out soon.”

“If you need to use the wastechamber, there’s one in the back,” Celejo offered, nodding toward the kitchen.

“Oh. Thanks.
 
That’s. . . .”

The infoscreen flashed and the headwaiter sighed.
 
“Thank the pantheon!
 
The doors are unlocking.”

Fel stepped back, wondering if he had overreacted.
 
The Ruby Room’s doors slid open, revealing a trio of Jurkuroi.
 
One of them was crouched next to something that looked like a weapon, his gloved hand resting on a plunger.
 
Fel took a breath, to shout a warning, but it was too late.