Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (6 page)

Kesip shrugged.
 
“They look like Zerraxi, they don’t look like Junians.”

John snorted and carded his fingers through the tangle of his hair.
 
The casual motion prompted a shudder from the trainee peacekeeper.

“Your hair really doesn’t feel anything, does it?” said Kesip.

“No, not a thing.”

Loj rejoined them.
 
“I’ve notified your friends, Mr. Epcott.
 
We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

John nodded and reached for his cloak.
 
The clothes he had been wearing during the attack had been turned over to the peacekeepers for forensic examination, but Olu had brought
him replacements.
 
Dressed in a sheer red tunic and flowing blue trousers, John pulled on the metallic orange cloak.
 
He tugged the hood up, over his distinctive hair.

“Lead the way.”

The corridors were quiet, as the trio made their way up the gently rising ramp that worked its way around the hospital’s gallery core.
 
They passed several people, but no one seemed to pay them any attention.
 
Nevertheless, John kept his head lowered.

Eventually, they reached the roof.
 
It was a fine morning, the sun was shining and two of the moons, Momi and Towis, were still visible in the west.
 
The peacekeepers’ aircar was a nondescript gray lozenge that could have belonged to any civic agency.
 
Its doors slid open as the trio approached.

To John’s surprise, Kesip slid into the pilot’s seat, while Loj joined him in the rear.
 
The doors hissed shut.
 
After Kesip confirmed they were strapped in, he switched on the antigravity field and impellers.
 
The car rose, gently, into the morning sky.

As they floated up, John looked out the window.
 
The hospital was part of the interconnected complex of buildings that comprised Ted Dov’s city center.
 
He could see that the elevated walkways leading to it appeared crowded.
 
He shook his head.

“That is so . . . crazy.”

Loj, seated across from him, smiled.
 
“Most of them are very young and in their lifechange.”

“So they really aren’t in their right minds?” asked John, amused.

The peacekeeper chuckled.
 
“You could say that.”

John glanced out the window again.
 
“It’s strange.
 
Back home, the only people who had this kind of celebrity were entertainers and politicians.”
 
He glanced at Loj.
 
“Why am I famous?
 
Because I survived.”

Loj frowned.
 
She looked as if she wanted to lean forward and touch his hands, to offer the sympathy of contact, but she hesitated.
 
“Do you miss it? Your home?”

John frowned.
 
“Sometimes. There are nights that I dream about it, the way it was, before the plague.
 
I wake up and I think it’s all been a dream.
 
A strange dream.”
 
He shut his eyes.
 
“Then I remember it’s not a dream.”

He felt the seat shift, opened his eyes to find Loj sitting next to him.
 
Tentatively, she took his hand.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” said John.
 
He squeezed the peacekeeper’s hand.
 
“You were just curious.
 
It’s natural.”

“If it helps,” said Loj, quietly, “I know a little of what it feels like, to lose your world.”

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t born on Juni.
 
My family immigrated to Nesup Colony before I was born.
 
I grew up there.”
 
Loj smiled, her gaze far away.
 
“Running through fields of
cisep
as high as my head.
 
Swimming in Lake Sem.
 
Playing with my house-sisters.”

“What happened?” asked John.

“There was a solar event,” said Loj.
 
“The planet was irradiated.
 
The only people who survived were the ones who could reach the emergency shelters in time.
 
Fifty-five people survived out of a colony of almost three-thousand.”

“I’m sorry,” said John.
 
“Your family?”

“My mother survived.
 
So did two of my house-sisters.
 
Afterwards, we moved to Juni, but it wasn’t the same.
 
Everyone was very kind, but Juni wasn’t home.
 
In the heart of my soul,
that will always be Nesup Colony.”
 
She smiled and squeezed his hand.
 
“So I understand a little of what you must feel, Mr. Epcott.”

John nodded.

* * * * *

 
Kesip brought the aircar down in a wide, spiral pattern and landed on a peacekeeper substation’s roof.
 
They were well outside the city center and Loj assured John that he shouldn’t have any problems with enthusiastic well-wishers.

“Gathering spontaneously in the city center is one thing,” said the peacekeeper.
 
“There’s no law against that.
 
But it’s quite a different matter to do something like that in a residential district, and only the most addlebrained group would even contemplate it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said John.

Inside the substation, Olu and Vesu were waiting.
 
Grinning, Vesu welcomed John with a powerful hug, while Olu held his hand and squeezed his fingers so tightly that John feared she might cut off his circulation.

“We’ve got a groundcar waiting,” said Vesu.
 
“And the house is set for full privacy.”

“So you won’t need to worry about the newsmakers,” said Olu, firmly.
 
“If anyone breaches privacy, we’ll report them to the peacekeepers and demand judgment.”

Loj looked impressed.
 
“Well, I can see you’re going to be in good hands, Mr. Epcott.”
 
She produced a slip of paper and handed it to him.
 
“My personal comm-code,” she said, quietly.
 
“If you ever want to talk.”

John nodded, touched her hands and slipped the paper into a pocket.
 
“Thank you, Officer Loj.”

“Call me Musin,” she said.

Olu and Vesu bundled John out of the substation, into the waiting groundcar.
 
Vesu set the dome to mirror-mode and the two academics pressed close to John.
 
They didn’t make a fuss, just succumbed to their Junian impulses, letting their close presence reassure him.

At the house, the three of them settled in the kitchen.
 
John took off his comm and considered it.
 

“Is there something the matter?” asked Vesu.

“I’m not sure,” said John.
 
“The peacekeepers thought my comm had been compromised.”

“Really?” Vesu looked scandalized.

“Yes, I’m just wondering if it’s all right to use it now.”

Olu set cups of yellow tea before them, and settled herself at the table.
 
“You should check it.”

“How?”

“Contact the Communications Authority,” said Vesu.
 
“Ask them to run an integrity check on your personal comm.”

John slid his comm back on and tapped it.
 
It trilled softly.
 
“Device ready.”

“Contact Communications Authority,” said John.

A synthesized voice responded.
 
“This is the Communications Authority. How may we assist you?”

“I’d like to run an integrity check on my personal comm.”

“Please provide your comm-code.”

“Epcott-593103829.”

“Checking....checking....checking.
 
Integrity check complete.
 
Personal comm Epcott-593103829 was compromised on 58.18608 at 0914 hours.
 
Integrity restored on 58.18608 at 0930 hours.
 
Integrity compromise reported to Ted Dov Peacekeepers on 58.18608 at 0935 hours.
 
Personal comm Epcott-593103829 is secure.
 
Do you require further assistance?”

“No,” said John. “Disconnect.”

His comm warbled.
 
“Disconnect confirmed.
 
Please note that you have seven-hundred-thirty-seven messages awaiting your review.”

John blinked.
 
“Repeat that.”

The comm repeated its last message and John shook his head.
 

“What is it?” asked Vesu.

“I’ve got over seven hundred messages waiting for me.”

“Most of them are probably from complete strangers,” said Olu.
 
“Like the well-wishers who gathered outside the hospital this morning.”

“Are you going to listen to them all?” asked Vesu.
 
He looked intrigued.

“I’ll probably have to see about filtering them.
 
 
Some of them might be from people I actually know.”

“You can do that later,” said Olu, firmly.
 
“For now, you will relax.”

“I slept for four days, Olu.
 
I think I’m pretty relaxed.”

“No,” she said, “you were in a coma for four days.
 
That isn’t the same thing.”

He covered her hand with his own.
 
“Olu, I’m fine.”

“You had a violent confrontation, John.
 
I’ve studied enough human psychology to know that you may experience a delayed reaction to those events.”

“It was just a fight,” said John.
 
“I’m fine.
 
Honestly.”

“Were all humans so accustomed to violence?” asked Vesu.
 

John’s eyebrows shot up.
 
“I wouldn’t say that I’m accustomed to violence.
 
That makes it sound like I treat it as something casual.
 
Trust me, I don’t.”
 

“My apologies, John.
 
I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You haven’t,” said John.
 
He patted Vesu’s hand.
 
“But this wasn’t my first fight. I’ve been in others.”

“Really?” said Olu.
 
Her expression wavered between intrigue and shock.
 

“Ignoring playground scuffles, I didn’t always live in the nicest neighborhoods.
 
When I was seventeen I was beaten so badly that I went to the hospital with cracked ribs and a broken wrist.”

“How awful!” said Olu, her eyes wide with shock.

“Was your attacker brought to judgment?” asked Vesu.

“No,” said John.
 
“It was my word against theirs and I had no witnesses or evidence to prove my claim.”

“There was more than one?” asked Olu.

“There were four of them.”

“Why did they attack you?”

John shrugged.
 
“They were drunk and thought I insulted them.”

“That must have been traumatic,” said Olu.

“It wasn’t pleasant,” admitted John.
 
“I had nightmares for weeks afterward and didn’t want to leave the house at all.”
 
He grinned at Olu.
 
“You worry about me not socializing enough now, you should have seen me then!
 
I was jumping at my own shadow.”