Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (48 page)

Temun nodded.
 
“As soon as his people are finished checking that all decks are secure.”

* * * * *

Kami drifted toward the allocator’s position.
 
An older man, thin and dark-skinned with soft blue hair, floated above the workstation.
 
He didn’t seem at all discomfited by the lack of gravity.
 
His panel was flickering, off and on.
 
Looking at the display made Kami’s eyes ache.

“Are you my relief?” asked the man.

“I’m not on duty until tomorrow,” admitted Kami.
 
“Is your relief late?”

The guardsman yawned.
 
“I don’t even know if they made it to Doorstep.
 
Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re still on the planet, waiting for a working transport.”

Kami frowned.
 
“Is Ted Dov Base affected too?”

“The base, Doorstep Station and every ship docked at Doorstep.
 
All inbound traffic has been rerouted to the moons.”
 
He yawned again.

Kami felt a surge of sympathy for the man.
 
“How long have you been on duty?”

“This is my second shift.”

Kami blinked in surprise.
 
“You’ve been here twelve hours straight?”

He shrugged.
 
“It’s not as if there’s been a lot to do.
 
Plus, half the readings we’re getting are false.”

“Consider yourself relieved,” said Kami.
 
“I’ll take over.”

The fellow frowned.
 
“Are you sure?”

“I’m First Allocator of this ship, guardsman,” said Kami, firmly.
 
“I’m sure.”

The guardsman blinked in surprise, then nodded.
 
“If you say so, ma’am.”

Giving her a tired smile, he signed out of the workstation.
 
The display dissolved into static and went dark.
 
Kami entered her own operator code and was relieved to see the display reappear, looking normal.
 
It stayed that way for all of five minutes before it started jumping and blurring.

She glanced at her request queue and snorted.
 
According to it, there were over a million priority requests waiting to be filled.

False readings indeed, thought Kami.

* * * * *

Fel Ezep found the defender’s position occupied by a young woman whose short, dark blue hair formed a fuzzy halo around her face.
 

“Report, guardsman,” said Fel.

“All offensive and defensive systems have been physically disabled, sir,” reported the woman. “We’re still getting sensor info but most of it’s false.”
 
She sighed and tossed her head, sending short blue locks waving.
 
“To be candid, sir, we’re blind and toothless.”

Fel frowned.
 
“What about the agent? Any progress on stopping it?”

“None so far, sir. First Engineer has the techs working on the problem, but without success.”

“How long have you been here, guardsman?”

“Since the end of second shift, sir.
 
The third shift guardsman never showed up and I was here, so. . . .”

“Well done, guardsman.
 
Do you need a break?”

“I’m fine, sir.
 
Besides, going from null gravity to full gravity back to null gravity would only make me sick.”

Fel chuckled.
 
“If you don’t like null gravity, guardsman, you picked a strange place to work.”

“There are more benefits to serving in the Guard than disadvantages, sir.”
 
She smiled, wanly. “Even for someone who gets gravity sick.”

* * * * *

Upio Jovut drifted into the command, his blue hair trailing after him like the tail of a comet.
 
He presented himself before the First, who greeted him with a brisk nod and a grim smile.

“Welcome aboard, First Defender.”

“Thank you, sir.”

John chuckled.
 
“These aren’t the conditions I expected when meeting my officers.”

Upio returned the smile.
 
“The pantheon enjoys their jokes, sir.
 
Is the First Engineer ready to reset the ship’s systems?”

John turned to Temun.
 
“Second?”

Temun’s personal comm was clipped to his ear, the channel open to Vetew Siv.
 
“The First Engineer has just confirmed that all airlocks have been manually secured, First.
 
He’s ready to initiate the reset on your order.”

“Then the order is given,” said John.

* * * * *

Vetew Siv tapped the comm behind his ear and confirmed his orders before nodding.
 
Well, he thought, here goes nothing.

“All right, people!” bellowed the First Engineer.
 
“Begin purge and reset procedures!”
 
He turned to the tech serving as an impromptu communications specialist.
 
“Lino, pass the word to all decks, then notify Doorstep.
 
We’re going dark.”

* * * * *

 
Dodimo Lujo, Sixth Officer of the Second Fleet, floated in front of an observation port and watched as the
Dawnwind
’s mooring lights went dark.
 
The umbilicus connecting the ship to the station likewise went dark.
 

Curious, thought the Fleet Officer.
 
The umbilicus’s lights must have been connected to the ship, not Doorstep Station.
 

Doorstep Station had lost most of its lights a few hours ago.
 
Artificial gravity had started spasming more recently, prompting station technicians to disable it. Null gravity was safer under the circumstances, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience for most Junians.
 
Almost ninety-six percent of Lujo’s countrymen suffered from some form of gravity sickness.
 
Lujo didn’t like to think how most of the people on this station were going to react once they fell under the influence of normal gravity again.
 
Thankfully, gravity sickness was not one of the burdens that Dodimo Lujo had to bear.
 
Leadership, however, was.

A golden light drifted into the observation port.
 
Lujo turned, saw Nuso Hepiniv swim into the room.
 
A pressure-torch was clenched in Hepiniv’s hand.
 
The man did not look happy.

“Fleet Officer Hepiniv,” murmured Lujo, nodding his head.
 
“Are you feeling well?”

“First Officer Zetajo has just received a comm from Guard Officer Unup,” said Hepiniv.
 
“He’s ordered all non-Guard personnel on Doorstep Station be evacuated.”

Lujo raised his eyebrows.
 
“This upsets you?”

“For all we know, the troublemaker could be one of those people!”

“Ah. I see.”
 
Lujo turned back to the observation portal.
 
“Request that the evacuees be sequestered once they’re off the station.”

“I have,” said Hepiniv.
 
“Fleet Officer Isoto said he would take it under advisement.”

Lujo nodded.
 
He understood Hepiniv’s frustration.
 
Holum Isoto was the First Officer of the First Fleet.
 
Doorstep Station fell under his jurisdiction, and he did not make quick decisions.

“Isoto does have the Guard Officers looking over his shoulder,” reminded Lujo.
 

“I believe this rogue is a serious threat to our security,” said Hepiniv.
 
“As do my superiors in the Sixth.
 
But it doesn’t seem as if anyone else shares that view!”

Lujo smiled. “Is that why you sought me out?”

“You’re an influential figure in the Guard.
 
And you’ve seen what this rogue has done.
 
Can you honestly say that you haven’t thought about what could happen if it was released on a mass scale?
 
It could cripple our entire defense network!
 
And what if it were introduced into the civilian systems?
 
There would be chaos!”

“Perhaps,” murmured Lujo.
 
“It makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it?”

“About what?”

“How this rogue could penetrate Guard systems? How could it go completely unnoticed until it was too late to stop?”

Hepiniv stared at Lujo.
 
“You think someone in the Guard could be responsible.”

“The thought hadn’t occurred to you?”

“No.”

“Stranger things have happened,” said Lujo.

Hepiniv shook his head.
 
“Why?
 
What would be the point?”

Lujo spread his palms, smiled faintly.
 
“Who knows, sir?
 
Perhaps it’s just a game of the gods.”
 
He turned, slowly, and peered at the shadowed bulk of the
Dawnwind
.
 
“They do like to play with our expectations.”

* * * * *

“Officer Siv is ready to restart the system, First,” reported Temun.

The command was dimly lit.
 
As soon as power had cut out, emergency illuminators had been triggered.
 
They cast a dull, yellowish light over the workstations.

“Give him the order, Second,” said John.
 
“And let’s hope this works.”

* * * * *

Vetew Siv studied his workstation’s display with harsh intensity.
 
“Power status?”

“Output is at fourteen percent and rising, sir!”

“System status?”

“Five percent, First Engineer.”

“Any sign of our rogue?”

“Negative, sir.
 
I think it worked!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, guardsman,” said Vetew, crisply.
 
Privately, he offered a silent prayer of hope to the pantheon.
 
No more jokes today! Please!

* * * * *

“System status at seventeen percent, First,” reported Kami.

Floating above the First’s Position, John nodded.
 
“Thank you, Ninth.”

Temun grinned.
 
“Sir, we have comms again!”

A ragged little cheer met this news.
 
Suddenly, the command illuminators powered up, bathing the chamber in golden light.
 

“Systems are at twenty-seven percent, First,” reported Kami.

Epcott said nothing, but he allowed himself a slight smile.

* * * * *

A soft trill announced the return of ship’s comms.
 
Dur Cij glanced up from the injectors he was preparing.
 
The artificial gravity would be up soon.  When that happened, the First Medic was expecting a slew of new patients suffering from gravity sickness.

Thank the pantheon, thought Cij, that the infirmary’s systems were independent of the ship’s!
 
Cij suffered from the worst form of gravity sickness, the kind that could linger for hours and keep him trapped in a wastechamber, emptying his stomach.

Madivo was checking on Suz again, sweeping his handscanner over the injured man’s arm.
 
The amputation had been bloodier than Cij had anticipated, but he’d been impressed by the medic’s speed and skill.
 
Even as the medic scanned Suz, the patient’s new hand was being made in the medical synthesizer.
 
Cij was certain the First Medic would be able to attach it before Suz woke, hopefully sparing the tech the trauma of seeing his wound.

Guardsman Jeso hadn’t been so lucky.
 
The rogue agent had scrambled the temperature settings in the wetchamber she was using, badly scalding her.
 
She would be all right, but she would have to deal with scars for a little while.
 
Cij had already applied the first regenerative treatment to the woman’s skin.
 
After a few more, her skin would be as unblemished as a newborn’s.
 
It would just take a little time.