Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (44 page)

“My life,” said Fel.
 

He pulled the top case out, set it on the floor.
 
Kneeling, he pressed a genelock and the case opened.
 
Inside, Kami glimpsed a collection of pale seashells, a flat black stone, and childish drawings.

Smiling, Fel set the first case aside and pulled out another one.
 
This one contained books, Zerraxi speaking-stones wrapped in paper, even a cache of old memory-spheres.

Fel brought out all the cases and Kami watched, entranced, as he opened each one to examine its contents.
 
Some of the cases held ordinary things: eyepaint, jewelry, a pale yellow sleeping gown.
 
Others held what Kami assumed were mementos.
 
Strange things, such as an alien animal carved from dark wood, worn leather gloves, a flower apparently made out of amber.

When he had gone through them all, Fel deftly restacked the cases in his closet, arranging them in a new configuration.
 
Shutting the door, he glanced at Kami and smiled.

“Well, that’s taken care of.”

She sat on the bed and shook her head, grinning. “You carry all of that with you?”

“I’ve been traveling with some of those things since I was a child.”

“Your parents must have been very indulgent.”

“Oh, I never had parents,” said Fel, cheerfully.
 
“Well, none I remember.
 
I was raised in a crèche.”

“Oh!” Kami felt a wave of sympathy for the man.
 
“For how long?”

“All my youth.”

“No one took you in?”

“Some tried, but it never worked out.”

Kami couldn’t comprehend not having a family.
 
“But, you had friends?”

“Oh lots and lots!” said Fel.

“None of their families worked out for you?”

“A lot of them tried, but it just didn’t happen.”
 
He shrugged, smiling. “I suppose I was just too independent.
 
And, besides, that’s all in the past.
 
I have a family now.”

“You do?”

“The Guard,” said Fel.
 

“How long have you served?”

“Five years.”

“And you’re already an Eighth?”

Fel laughed.
 
“It’s not that impressive, not when you compare it to our First.”

“Our First?”

He tilted his head, looked at her oddly.
 
“Don’t you know who our First is?”

She felt her fingers go hot.
 
“Well, I kept meaning to check, but one thing happened and then another....”

Fel grinned.
 
“Our First is John Epcott.”

Kami gaped.
 
“The Last Human?”

“You honestly didn’t know?”

“No! I had no idea!
 
My housemates are going to spasm when I comm them!”

Fel laughed, took her hand.
 
“Well, now you know.”

“Have you ever met him?
 
Do you know what he’s like?
 
I’ve seen the newsfeeds, but. . . .”

“I met him once, at a retirement party,” admitted Fel.
 
“He was very nice.
 
If not for his hair color you could almost mistake him for a Junian.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Kami grinned.
 
“Do you think he’s already aboard?”

“Maybe.
 
Why?”

Her grin widened.
 
“Let’s go look for him!”

* * * * *

 
John made his way along the
Dawnwind
’s corridors, greeting the crewmembers he met, stopping to chat with people here and there.
 
He noted that many of this crew knew each other, which was a good thing.
 
Junians weren’t happy unless they were part of a group.
 
The faster social bonds formed the better.
 
It was easy to spot the new crewmembers, the ones straight out of the Institute.
 
They had hangdog expressions and looked ready to run back to Juni at the drop of a hat.
 
These were the ones John stopped to speak with, to touch their hands and
 
clasp their shoulders.
 
After John left, they still looked shaky, but better than before.

The corridors John walked through were rounded, with lushly carpeted decks.
 
At the moment, the bulkheads were set to their default gray.
 
Once they were underway, the engineers and medics would put their heads together, consult the crew and decide on a central color theme.
 

He was encountering fewer people, now that he was in the aft section of the ship.
 
Around him were the manufactories, the synthesizers, workshops and storerooms.
 
The manufactories were still, the synthesizers quiet.
 
The workshops and storerooms were dark.
 
They would not come to life until they were away from Juni, making their way through the black.

John kept walking.
 
Occasionally, he encountered sealed passages.
 
Engineering and tech specialists were working in those areas, triple-checking ship functions and integrity.
 
He bypassed those areas, found himself once more among traveled corridors.
 
Here, guardsmen were busy, stevedores from Doorstep Station guiding floatpads above the carpeted deck.
 
John fell into step behind a group loaded with faintly luminescent boxes, curious about their destination.
 

They wound through the corridors, emerging into the ship’s arboretum.
 
Here, the plush carpeted deck gave way to green grass and stone paths.
 
The air smelt pleasantly of wet, growing things.
 
As John watched, specialists descended upon the stevedores and relieved them of their burdens.
 
The packages were dissolved, exposing young, flowering trees.
 
Their blossoms were blue, red and green.
 
They were taken and carefully placed in prepared pots.
 
The stevedores trooped out, but John lingered.

“Are you lost, young man?”

Turning, John found himself face-to-face with an elderly guardsman.
 
He had short, gray hair and wore green eyepaint.
 
The insignia on his shoulder identified him as a scientific specialist.

“I’m just looking,” said John.
 
He greeted the stranger, introducing himself.

The older man brushed John’s palms.
 
“Welcome, First.
 
I am Jesko Nozeta, agricultural specialist.”

“Is this your lab?” John nodded at the space around them.

Jesko nodded, smiling.
 
“Hopefully, we’ll be providing most of the produce the crew will be eating.”

“Really?”
 

“Most of our plants are still being transported aboard the ship, First.
 
When they’re all here, this deck will look like a grove in the Muxis Forrest.”

“So those are fruit trees?” John nodded at the trees that had been potted.

“Flower trees for the pollinators.”

“Insects?” asked John, frowning.

“Sweet-stingers,” said Jesko.
 
“They thrive on flower trees.”

“Well, then, I think I’ll be staying well clear of your lab, specialist.”

The scientist looked amused.
 
“You don’t care for insects?”

“I don’t care for sweet-stingers.
 
I nearly died from a sweet-stinger bite, once.

“Really?” Jesko frowned.
 
“Their venom isn’t toxic.”

“Not to Junians.”

“Ah. I forgot your origins, First.”
 
Jesko pursed his lips.
 
“We’ll have to make sure the biomembrane is properly calibrated then, so that we can get out but not our little friends.”

John couldn’t help grinning.
 
“I’d appreciate that.”

Another crew of stevedores arrived, bearing more plants.
 
Jesko excused himself and hurried over to supervise the unwrapping and installation of the new additions. Wishing him well, John left the arboretum and continued on his wandering journey.

* * * * *

 
“I’m sorry for the delay, Third,” murmured the guardsman on duty.
 
His fingers slid across his panel.
 
“We’ve gotten reports of a rogue agent running wild across the infostructure.
 
Our systems are crawling while the techs try to purge it.”

Upio Jovut raised a pale blue eyebrow.
 
“Is that so?
 
Has the First been notified?”

The guardsman shook his head.
 
Glaring at his panel now, he stabbed at it.
 
“I don’t know, Third.
 
Comms are down.”

Upio frowned.
 
“Because of the rogue?”

“Yes, sir.
 
I was told the techs are working on that.”
 
His panel chimed.
 
“Finally!
 
Welcome aboard the
Dawnwind
, Third Officer.”

“Thank you.
 
Do you know if the First Engineer is aboard?”

“Yes, sir.
 
First Engineer Siv signed in a couple of hours ago.”

Jovut nodded.
 
“Thank you.
 
If anyone asks for me, guardsman, let them know I’m headed for the core.”

* * * * *

Vetew was not in a good mood.
 
When he had walked into the core, he had found the place in an uproar.
 
People were shouting at each other across the huge, circular chamber.
 
Somewhere, an emergency claxon was ringing.
 
A trio of technicians was standing around an exposed infonode, arguing with one another over how to proceed.

“Quiet!”

Vetew had a powerful voice.
 
It cut through the din, bouncing off the circular walls of the core.
 
The entire chamber fell silent.
 
Guardsmen turned from their workstations to stare at him.

“I am First Engineer Siv,” shouted Vetew.
 
“Who’s in charge here?”

A heavyset woman with short, dark yellow hair stepped forward.
 
“Eighth Engineer Neli Amap, sir.
 
Doorstep Station.”

“Well, Eighth Engineer, what in the Wastes is going on here?”

“Ship systems are infected with a rogue agent, sir.”

Vetew’s eyes narrowed.
 
“Is the shunt secure?”

Amap gaped, stammered.
 
“I...I don’t know, sir.”

Vetew turned away from the flustered woman and raised his voice.
 
“First priorities, people! Secure the shunt!
 
And someone turn off that cursed alarm!”

“We’ve tried, sir!” shouted a guardsman on one of the upper levels.
 
“It won’t respond!”

“Then tear it out of the wall!” roared Vetew.
 
“Have you been coordinating with Doorstep on this, Amap?”

“Comms are down, First Engineer.”

Suddenly, the warning claxon died.

“Thank you, guardsman!” Vetew shouted, without even looking to see who had done the job. He turned and stabbed a finger at one of the techs standing by the infonode.
 
“You!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.
 
Run down to the security check-in.
 
Let the guardsmen there know that when engineering or technical specialists arrive, they’re to come straight to the core.
 
Straight. To. The. Core!
 
Go!”