Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (41 page)

“Don’t you think Officer Epcott can handle it, sir?”

“I’m sure he could.
 
If he was aware that everything he was going to do for the next three years was going to be scrutinized, filtered and then broadcast over the public infonet.”

Imi frowned.
 
“Officer Epcott doesn’t know about this?
 
How can they do that, sir?
 
Isn’t it a violation of the privacy laws?”

“Not according to the legal counselors.
 
Command is going to be sharing redacted reports and intraship comms with the newsmakers.
 
Any information transmitted over Guard comms belongs to the Guard.
 
Command can do whatever they want with it.”

Imi looked scandalized.
 
“But that means that private conversations made over a Guard comm. . . .”

“Belong to the Guard,” repeated Lujo.

“Why isn’t Epcott being told about this project, sir?”

“It was a condition the newsmakers insisted on.
 
They think if Epcott knows his comms are being monitored that it will taint his responses.”

“What are you going to do, sir?”

Lujo sank back in his chair.
 
He plucked the comm from behind his ear, eyed it for a moment, and then tucked it away in his desk.
 

“Right now, Zejaf, I want you to order me a new comm.
 
I seem to have mislaid my old one.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And ask Guardsman Lopil, down in Tech Services, to come to my office.
 
My workstation is malfunctioning.”

“Again, sir?
 
That’s the third time this month.”

“Faulty components, I suspect.”

“Of course, sir.
 
Anything else, sir?”

“A cup of green tea would be nice.”

“I’ll get right on that, sir,” said Imi.

The Fleet Officer smiled.
 
“Zejaf, what would I do without you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” said the young woman.
 
She turned back to her workstation, to carry out the Fleet Officer’s orders.

Clearsky

5823

Junian Calendar

Sunlight pouring from the bedchamber’s wallscreens woke Kami Guso.
 
For a moment, the young woman lay there, blinking, something niggling at the back of her mind.
 
A warm body was pressed up against her, a hand lightly clasping her own.
 
She glanced at the timeline on the wall and stiffened.

“Oh lonelies!”

“Kami?”
 
Otup Wes roused, slowly, blinking.
 
“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?
 
Otup, you great lump!
 
You forgot to set the bed to wake us!
 
I’m going to be late!”

Otup blinked.
 
Kami was tearing off her sleeping gown, running around the bedchamber in her bare skin.
 
There were, Otup considered, worse sights to wake up to.

“Relax.
 
You’re not due at the base until highsun.
 
You’ve got plenty of time.”

She waved a hand at the timeline on the wall.
 
Otup glanced at it and frowned.
 
That couldn’t possibly be right.
 
Could it?
 
He plucked his timeband from the bedside table and squinted at it.

“Oh, merciful pantheon!”

“See!” shouted Kami, from the wetchamber.
 
“I’m going to be late!”

“Be quiet and get dressed!” shouted Otup.
 

He threw back the bedclothes and pulled off his own sleeping gown, went right to the closet and started rummaging for something to wear.
 
By the time Kami emerged from the wetchamber, Otup had pulled on a pearlescent trouser-suit and was hunting for shoes.
 
Kami was already dressed in her uniform.
 
The black and green outfit made her scarlet hair seem even redder.

“Do we have time for eyepaint?” asked Otup.

“No,” said Kami.
 
Grimacing, she jammed her feet into knee-high boots.

“Not even sparkle?”

“There is no time!” said Kami.
 
“Get the car!
 
I have to. . . .”

“You both need to calm down before you rupture a blood vessel,” said a calm, authoritative voice.

Kami looked up, saw their housemate, Jote Zalo, standing in the bedchamber door, sipping a cup of
deggo
.
 
He wore bright red overalls, almost the exact same shade as his hair.
 
The eyepaint around his eyes was all blue and gray, with just a hint of sparkle.
 

“I can’t calm down!” said Kami.
 
“I’m going to be late!”

“No, you aren’t,” said Jote.
 
“You’re dressed, Otup is dressed and I’ve got a groundcar waiting to take you to the base.
 
So just relax.
 
Okay?”

“My things!” said Kami, looking around, panicked.

Jote sighed.
 
“You sent them to the ship last night, heartsong.
 
Remember?”

“Oh.”
 
Kami blinked and sat down, hard, on the bed.
 
“Oh gods.
 
I’m running around like a crazed scuttle-bird!”

“You’re just excited, that’s all,” said Jote.
 
“Now, get up and put some sparkle on those eyes! This is a big day for you!
 
You might as well look happy!”

“We don’t have time,” said Kami.

Jote cut her off with a wave of his hand.
 
“There is always time for sparkle, heartsong.”

“I told you things were going to be fine,” said Otup, primly.

Kami jumped on him.

* * * * *

 
The groundcar whizzed through late morning traffic.
 
Kami sat in the back seat, next to Otup, holding his hand.
 
Her fingers were hot and moist.
 
She didn’t know if it was because she was nervous or if it was Otup.
 
In the end, she decided it didn’t really matter.
 
 
She tightened her grip and leaned against her friend.
 
Jote sat in the front seat, sipping his
deggo
, calm and collected as usual.
 
Kami reached forward and took his hand.

“Thank you, Jote.
 
For this morning.”

He smiled and squeezed her fingers.
 
“It was my pleasure.
 
Now, you have our comm-codes, right?
 
You’ll let us know how it goes out there?”
 

“I will.
 
I promise.”

“That’s a promise we’ll hold you too,” said Jote.
 

“I wish Teelo was here,” said Otup.
 

Kami blinked back sudden tears.
 
“Me too.”

“He’s with us in spirit,” said Jote.
 
“I’m sure of it.”

Maybe so, thought Kami, but it wasn’t the same thing.
 
She clutched her friends’ hands as the groundcar sped along, weaving in and out of traffic.
 

Kami could see their destination
 
now, through the groundcar’s dome.
 
Ted Dov Base stood west of the city, a complex of glittering silver towers, reaching for the heavens.
 
Even as Kami watched, she saw a transport rise from the towers, floating upwards, its hull shimmering as its contragrav field distorted the light.

“Did you hear?” said Otup.
 
“The Committee for Scientific Evaluation has decided to stop funding teleporter research.”

Jote grunted.
 
“I’m not surprised.”

“I thought you were making progress,” said Kami.

“Not enough.” Otup sighed.
 
“They’re going to invest the money in new ship designs.”

Kami squeezed his fingers.
 
“I’m sorry, Otup.”

“Me too,” said Jote.
 
“How’s the rest of your team taking the news?”

“Not too badly.
 
Most of them were ready to pursue other interests anyway.”

“But you weren’t?”

Otup smiled, shrugged.
 
“I still think we can crack it.”

“If anyone can, it will be you,” said Kami.
 
“I won’t be surprised if I come back and find you’ve done it.
 
They’ll probably give you your own chair at Gomis University.”

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” said Otup.
 
He smiled at her.
 
“And you! When you come back, you’ll probably be a big space hero!
 
They’ll make you First of your own ship!”

“Not likely,” said Kami, but grinning nonetheless.
 
“Not for a while yet.”

“Careful,” teased Jote.
 
“The gods like to surprise us.”

Kami laughed.
 
“If the gods make me a First, that won’t be a surprise, Jote, that’ll be a joke!”

* * * * *

The groundcar slowed as they entered the base’s traffic lanes.
 
There were other vehicles around them, with higher clearances, and their own car gave way before these.
 
Kami fretted, glancing at her timeband.
 
Jote abandoned the front seat to squeeze in next to her.
 
He threw an arm over her shoulders.
 

“It’s almost time,” said Kami.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” asked Otup.
 
His eyes were wet and shiny.

“We will if you want us to,” added Jote.
 

He took her hand, squeezed her fingertips.
 
They were hot.
 
Kami wouldn’t have been surprised if they burst into flame at the moment, she felt so nervous.

“I don’t know,” said Kami.
 
“It’ll probably be easier if we just say farewell in the car.”

“Are you sure?” asked Otup.
 

She drew a breath and forced a brave smile.
 
“Yes.”

Jote swallowed.
 
“If you’re sure, heartsong.”

Her eyes were wet now, the moisture threatening to spill over into tears.
 
She turned and hugged Jote, then Otup.
 
They huddled together in the back of the car, their arms around one another, and their heads almost touching.
 
The car slid to a gentle stop.
 

“Destination achieved,” said the auto-driver.

Sniffling, Kami was given fierce hugs by her housemates.
 
The air in the back of the car took on the subtle tang of misery.
 
Eventually, Kami untangled herself from her dearest friends and opened the car door.

A cool breeze wafted in, bringing the familiar scents of the base to Kami’s nose.
 
She took a deep breath and gave Otup and Jote each a final farewell hug.
 
They clung to her hands until she had climbed out of the car.
 

“Be safe!” said Otup.

“Comm us!” said Jote, giving her his best serious look.
 
“Or we’ll pack up and come out there after you!”

“I will,” said Kami.
 
“I promise!”

The auto-driver bleeped for attention, warning them that they had reached the end of their idle time.
 
Another car was waiting to pull up to the base’s curb, to disgorge its own passengers.
 

“Farewell!” said Otup.
 

“Farewell!” said Jote.

Then he pulled the door shut and the car pulled away from the curb. Kami stood there, waving at the departing vehicle, until it had vanished.

And then, like that, she was alone.

* * * * *

 
“Kami Guso,” read the guard at the security checkpoint.
 

She was a mature woman with dark red hair and severe eyepaint.
 
Her black and green uniform fit her like a glove, emphasizing the woman’s muscular body.
 

“You’re the Ninth aboard the
Dawnwind
?”

Kami stood at the scanner, her hand pressed to the identification plate.
 
There was a line of people behind her.
 

“Yes.”

“I hear that’s quite a ship,” said the guard.
 
“Sorry about the wait.
 
The network is slow today.”

“I understand,” said Kami.

Eventually, the guard’s panel chirped, confirming Kami’s biometrics.
 
She was admitted onto the concourse.
 

“Your transport leaves in ten minutes, miss.
 
Platform Seven.”

Nodding, Kami trotted down the concourse.
 
She felt miserable.
 
Alone.

I’m lonely, thought Kami, and shuddered at the realization.
 
Glancing around, she saw other Guard personnel, hurrying to their own destinations.
 
Most of them looked perfectly fine, eager even, but some mirrored Kami’s own expression, miserable and uncertain.
 

Merciful pantheon, thought Kami.
 
What am I doing here?

Back at the Institute, Kami had looked forward to this moment.
 
It had been the focus of her studies.
 
Perform well.
 
Get a posting on a ship, heading outbound.
 
See the galaxy. Explore alien cultures.

But now that the moment had arrived, that the event was imminent, all Kami felt was sick.
 
Intellectually, she knew her reaction was normal.
 
She was leaving her friends, some of them she had known since the nursery!
 
Her familiar social group had vanished.
 
She was suddenly cast adrift in a sea of strangers.
 
Disorientation would be normal, and expected, at least for the short term.
 
She knew that she would bond with her shipmates, that they would form a new group, but knowing something and experiencing it were quite different.