Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (39 page)

“When I was in the Guard,” said Polum. “I fought in the Dilatan Border Conflict. So, yes, Mr. Mosu, I have killed people.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. . . .”

He waved a hand.
 
“Don’t worry about it.
 
Now, shall we discuss the story you’re working on?
 
Elo said you were doing a piece on a Guard officer.”

“A fixer,” said Fi.

“Ah. Interesting.
 
What’s his name?”

“John Epcott.”

Polum’s eyebrows shot up.
 
“The Last Human?”

“You know him?”

“One of my daughters went through a xeno phase, a while ago,” explained Polum.
 
“She was fascinated by him.
 
How do you know he’s a fixer?”

“That’s what Elo said, when she saw his service record.”

“Well, if anyone would know a fixer, it would be Elo.”

“What do you mean?”

Polum’s answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
 
“You should talk to her about her time in the Guard, Mr. Mosu.
 
Ask her how we met.
 
Trust me, it will be very instructive.”

“Maybe later,” said Fi.
 
“Right now, I need information on Epcott.”

“You’ve already got his service record?”

“Yes.”

“I’m assuming you want to know what he was doing at his assignments?”

Fi nodded.

Polum stroked his chin.
 
“Do you have the file with you?”

Silently, Fi handed his PIN to Polum.
 
The
Utofi
glanced at the file, his face registering vague interest.
 

“Leave me your comm-code.
 
I’ll be in touch.”

* * * * *

 
Elo lived in a residential tower, on the west side of the city.
 
Fi went right there after his meeting with Polum.
 
The door was opened by one of Elo’s housemates, a youngish man with light blue hair and the placid expression of a contented herbivore.

“I need to speak with Elo,” said Fi.
 
“Right now.”

He was shown into the day chamber, an airy space decorated in varying shades of blues and reds.
 
Elo was curled up in a chair, reading a PIN.
 
She took one look at Fi and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Polum Jobela,” said Fi, briskly.
 
“You could have warned me what he was, Elo!”

She rolled her eyes.
 
“Is that what this is about?”

“Elo, he’s
Utofi
!
 
How can I work with somebody I can’t trust?”

“Polum is completely trustworthy.”

“I don’t know that.”

She frowned.
 
“Do you want off the story?”

“No, I want to work with someone respectable.”

Elo’s expression became carefully neutral.
 
She pulled back the sleeve of her orange dayrobe, baring her arm.
 
There, imprinted on the flesh of her inner arm, was a string of tattoos.

“Don’t you think I’m respectable, Fi?”

Fi stared at her arm.
 
“You’re
Utofi
?”

Elo nodded, let her sleeve fall back into place.
 
“I am.
 
I have been my entire life.”

“But...!”

“Do you even know what the word
utofi
means, Fi?”

He hesitated.
 
“I was always told it meant criminal.”

“No.
 
It means outsider.
 
That’s what we were, what we are.”
 
She waved him at a couch.
 
“Sit.”

He obeyed, feeling unsteady.
 
Today had been one surprise after another.

“Have you ever heard of Ijen the Unifier?” asked Elo.

Fi frowned.
 
“Sure.
 
He was the founder of the First Empire.”

 
“That he was.
 
Old Ijen founded his empire by convincing all of the ancient tribal groups in his part of the world to ally for their mutual benefit.
 
All but one.”

“The
Utofi
?”

She nodded.
 
“Exactly.
 
Although they weren’t called outsiders at the time.
 
They didn’t trust Ijen or his vision, so they refused to join his alliance.
 
Ijen and his followers retaliated by excluding the tribe.
 
It became a crime to have any business dealings with them.
 
Old Ijen probably expected the group to cave quickly, but they didn’t.
 
They simply left the region.”

“And normally that would have worked.
 
That would have been the end of the problem.
 
But the First Empire was rapidly expanding.
 
Everywhere the outsiders went, they found the First Empire already there, setting down roots.
 
They had no choice but to keep moving, to try to stay ahead of the empire’s expansion.
 
Along the way, their numbers swelled.
 
Others joined them, groups and individuals who couldn’t adapt to the new state of affairs.”

“What happened?” asked Fi, fascinated despite himself.

“Josul the Scourge happened,” said Elo.

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“You might know him as Josul the Blessed.
 
He was the fourth emperor of the First Empire, Old Ijen’s great-grandson.”

Fi shrugged.
 
“Never heard of him.”

“By the time Josul ascended the throne, the
Utofi
had become a political liability.
 
The First Empire was reaching the limits of its expansion.
 
They were encountering strong resistance from other groups beyond their borders, people who didn’t wish to be assimilated into the imperial culture.
 
Josul felt that the
Utofi
were stirring things up, deliberately trying to undermine the Empire.”

“Were they?” asked Fi.

Elo shrugged.
 
“Probably.”

“What happened?”

“Josul went to the priests,” said Elo.
 
“He convinced them that he had been visited by the gods, in his dreams.
 
That they had decried the continued existence of the
Utofi
.
 
Most of the priests declared the
Utofi
anathema.”
 
Elo snorted.
 
“An interesting side note is that, after they did this, Josul started building new, lavish temples for them.
 
But I’m sure that was just a coincidence.”

Fi said nothing, just waited for Elo to continue.

“Anyway, until then, the
Utofi
had always been viewed as outcasts and outsiders, but when the priests’ decision came down, everything changed.
 
The
Utofi
went from being a group of political dissidents to being a group that the gods themselves opposed.
 
Within a generation, the
Utofi
were considered a cursed group, harbingers of bad luck, cheats and criminals.”
 
Elo shrugged.
 
“It’s an image that has pretty much stuck with us over the millennia.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” said Fi.
 
He tilted his head.
 
“Why don’t we do a story on this, Elo?”

“If you want to pitch it to another network, go right ahead.
 
But I won’t authorize it for JIN.
 
I’m too close to it, too biased.”

He stared at her, and then shook his head.
 
“Why am I not surprised?”
 
He sighed, fell back onto the couch.
 
“So, is that how you know Polum?”

“Because we’re both
Utofi
?” Elo looked amused.
 
“Not at all.
 
I met him during my time with the Guard.”

“When you were a fixer.”

Laughter greeted this statement.
 
“Is that what he told you?”

“It’s what he inferred.”

“I was never a fixer,” said Elo, grinning.
 
“Polum was.”

Fi blinked.
 
“He was?”

“Of course.
 
Why do you think I sent you to him?
 
He still has a lot of contacts in the Guard, people in the Defense Authority and Guard Command who owe him favors.
 
As a matter of fact, I think he still does the occasional job for them.”
 
She looked at him, amused.
 
“You look a little stunned, Fi.
 
Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. A large one.”

She gave him a small glass of thin, green liquid.
 
Fi took a sip and nearly choked.
 

“What is this?”

“Thornwine from the Sea of Stones.
 
You like?”

“I’ll let you know when my sense of taste comes back.”

Elo chuckled and took a sip of her own wine.
 
“Now that you know a bit about the
Utofi
, how do you feel about working with Polum?”

Fi frowned.
 
“He still has a room full of stolen merchandise in his bar.”

“Really?
 
You saw it?”

“With my own eyes.
 
Flashing security tags and all.”

“And yet, the peacekeepers hadn’t arrested him.”

“Well, no,” said Fi.

“Did it occur to you, that the merchandise could have been stolen from Polum and the peacekeepers had returned it?”

“No, it hadn’t.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass.
 
“For the rest of this assignment, Fi, I think it would be best if you tried to keep an open mind.”

* * * * *

 
Ikis, the bartender at the Merry Rhymer, glanced up as two men entered the bar.
 
 
Both men were older, dressed in the nondescript red jumpsuits of Transport Authority laborers.
 
One man had long, pale blue hair while the other was crowned by a thick mane of white.
 
They ambled toward the bar, the bluehair walking with a slight limp.

Casually, Ikis glanced at the small infoscreen concealed behind the bar.
 
Both men had been thoroughly scanned when they stepped through the door, and the small infoscreen was flashing yellow text at Ikis.
 
One of the men was armed.

“I need to see Polum,” said the whitehair.

Ikis raised his needle-thin eyebrows.
 
“You are?”

“Tell him Juv is here.”

Before Ikis could say anything else, his comm chirped.
 

“Show them back, Ikis,” ordered Polum.
 
“They’re all right.”

Ikis led them to Polum’s office.
 
Inside the fine redwood-paneled room, Polum Jobela reclined on his couch.
 
Nestled against him was a pretty, young woman with long, pale blue hair.
 
Except for her facepaint, she was naked as a babe.
 
Another woman, heavy-breasted, with long, pale yellow hair stood behind the couch, offering Polum a drink.
 

Polum smiled. “Gentlemen, come in.
 
Sit.
 
Can I offer you a drink?”