Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (27 page)
“I think Fe was making plans for his future when he picked his crew,” said Nodomi.
“His criteria seemed less about competence and more about who could help him advance his position.”
“Considering the fact that the First is dead,” a brisk voice interjected, “I think we can assume he’s already been judged for his life, guardsman.
There’s no need for anyone here to take that burden on themselves.”
Cleric Til drifted over to the group.
Her multicolored scarf was wound around her right arm.
She swept the small group with her gaze, and smiled.
“More survivors.
Thank the pantheon.”
“I’d be more thankful, Cleric, if the gods hadn’t seen fit to blow up half the ship,” said Sebo, blankly.
“The gods don’t do everything, guardsman,” chided Til.
“If you think they do, then you should come to temple more often.”
She looked at John.
“Guardsman Epcott.
It’s good to see you’re still with us.”
“It’ll take more than an exploding starship to kill me, ma’am,” said John.
Cleric Til arched her eyebrows.
“Given our circumstances, guardsman, do you think it wise to tempt the gods like that?”
He shrugged, nodded at her arm.
“You’re injured.”
The cleric touched her arm, where her scarf was knotted.
“A minor wound.
Nothing more.”
“You should get a medic to look at it anyway.”
“What do we do now?” asked Tul.
“We wait,” said Sebo. “What else can we do?”
“Wait for what?” asked John.
“Rescue?”
“Or death,” said the defender.
“Whichever finds us first.”
John snorted.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a fatalistic Junian before now.”
“I’m a realist,” said Sebo.
“The
Maiden
is broken, drifting in orbit around Napiso.
If the gravity well doesn’t kill us, most likely a bulkhead will give and we’ll all be sucked into space.”
“Or,” said Cleric Til, quietly, “we could be rescued.”
Sebo shrugged.
“No offense meant, Sebo, but I’m joining the Cleric’s camp on this.”
“Some of us are praying for rescue,” said Til.
“You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thank you,” said John.
“But I prefer more material exertions than metaphysical.”
He turned to Sebo.
“Let’s find Dotep.”
* * * * *
Ninth Defender Dotep was an unimpressive man.
John estimated he wasn’t even twenty years old.
He had a round, guileless face topped by short red hair.
His eyepaint was a
surprisingly festive swirl of green and red, enhanced by the tasteful application of sparkle powder here and there.
They found him in a room, floating with several of his friends.
The group was surprisingly upbeat.
John was encouraged until he saw the telltale blink of neuro-mods attached to their temples.
They had networked their PINS together and were actually playing a game of primes.
“Are you Ninth Defender Dotep?” John asked, even though Sebo had pointed the man out.
Dotep glanced up from his PIN.
“Yes?”
He squinted at John.
“Oh my.
You poor man.
What’s happened to your hair?”
John ignored the question.
He reached forward and plucked the neuro-mod off Dotep’s temple.
Dotep shuddered and twitched, then glared at John.
“Lonely souls!
What did you do that for?”
He held out his hand.
“Give it back!”
“You’re the ranking defender,” said John.
“Do you know that?”
“So?” said Dotep.
“I don’t care!
Give me my neuro-mod!”
There was a hysterical edge to the man’s voice now, but his friends didn’t seem to care.
They watched this exchange with bland, curious expressions.
“You should be trying to organize rescue efforts!” shouted John.
Dotep flinched back, surprised at the raw ferocity in John’s voice.
“Why? What’s the point?
Who’s going to come?
Who’s going to help us?
The colonists?”
His lip curled.
“Don’t make me laugh!
We’re all going to die.
The best thing to do is accept our fate gracefully.”
“You,” said John, gritting his teeth, “are a useless waste of skin.”
“I don’t care what you think,” said Dotep.
“I don’t care what you do.
Give me my mod and go away.”
John threw the mod at the man and spun away.
Dotep cried out and flailed madly for the tiny silver discus.
By the time John’s group left the room, Dotep had the neuro-mod reattached to his temple.
His group had resumed their game.
“Told you,” said Sebo.
They were in the corridor, which was mostly empty.
More and more people were retiring to rooms with their friends, gathering in groups to wait for the end.
“This is bullshit,” said John.
“How can everyone just sit down and wait to die?”
“No one wants to die, John,” protested Pimuqi.
“But what else can we do?”
“Fight,” said John.
“Fight to live!”
“Why? Uxipe will still come for us, to bear us down the River of Sleep.”
John frowned at Pimuqi.
“I think Sebo’s fatalism might be contagious.”
Surprisingly, Sebo chuckled.
“So, what do you want to do now, human?”
“Nodomi said there was a Fifth floating around somewhere?”
The medic nodded.
“Fifth Allocator Jebim.”
“Let’s go see him,” said John.
“Why? Do you think he’ll take the burden of command?”
John scowled.
“Someone’s got to!”
* * * * *
Tes Jebim was tending a room full of wounded.
The old man looked up as John’s group blocked the doorway.
“Unless you’ve come to die, go away,” said the old man.
He was pressing an injector into the neck of a young man.
The fellow floated, still and silent, his skin having taken on a waxy, yellowish tint.
His hair looked brittle and dry.
The other people in the room displayed similar symptoms.
Nodomi pushed her way into the room and went to the nearest crewmember.
She looked at Jebim.
“Radburst?”
Jebim nodded.
“Everyone here was near the core.”
“Including you?” asked the medic.
The old man snorted.
“Not as near as these, but near enough.
They’ll float down the river first, but I’ll be close behind them.”
He chuckled.
“Strange.
I never thought I’d die like this.”
He scratched his neck.
“I always thought the
Utofi
would kill me.”
John glared at the man.
“How can I be the only person here who isn’t resigned to dying?”
“You aren’t,” said Nodomi.
“I suppose hope does bloom eternally,” said Jebim.
“What do you want?”
“We were hoping you might take command,” said John.
“Get people working on a rescue.”
Jebim shook his head.
“I would if I had time, but I don’t.”
He held up his hands.
His fingertips were yellowish.
“You know what this means,” said Jebim, looking at Nodomi.
“Organ failure,” said the medic.
She reached out, clasped the old man’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid you don’t have much time.
A few hours maybe.”
Jebim nodded.
“I know.”
“There has to be something we can do!” raged John.
The old man shook his head.
“There isn’t.
We’re floating, dead in the water.”
He tapped his comm.
“We’ve got no communications and the emergency beacons aren’t broadcasting.”
“Probably blown apart with the command,” said Sebo.
“I always knew Fe would go down hard, but I never thought he’d take all of us with him,” said Jebim.
“What about the transports?” asked John.
He turned to Sebo.
“Has anyone been to the transport bay?”
The defender nodded.
“They depressurized.
The transports were sucked out.”
“So you see,” said Jebim.
“There really isn’t anything to do but wait and pray for an easy death.”
“I refuse to accept that,” said John.
Sebo snorted.
“What are you going to do?
Build a comm array out of thin air?”
John blinked, stared at the defender.
“What did you say?”
“I said, what are you going to do? Build a comm array out of thin air?”
“Maybe not thin air,” said John, eyes wide.
“But what about stores?”
Tes Jebim stared at the human.
“Merciful pantheon.”
“What?” said Sebo, frowning.
“What?”
“There are replacement components for primary systems in the ship’s hold,” said Jebim. He tugged on his earrings. “In case of an emergency.”
“I’d say this constitutes an emergency,” said John.
Sebo was looking back and forth between John and Jebim.
“You can’t honestly build a comm array from scratch.
Can you?”
“I have some engineering,” said John, “but I’m not a specialist.”
“But there are bound to be engineers and technicians here!” shouted Jebim.
“I’ve been taking engineering courses,” said Pimuqi.
Her eyes were wide and bright.
“After this tour, I was going to specialize!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Interrupted Nodomi.
“Can we even get to the ship’s holds?
Deck three was almost as badly compromised as deck one.”
“In the forward section,” said Sebo.
“But not the aft.
It’s compromised, yes, but it won’t be open to hard vacuum.”
The allocator shook his head.
“You won’t need to go to deck three.
The component’s we’ll need are on this deck.”
Pimuqi laughed.
“Transport components!
Of course!”
“Exactly!” said Jebim.
“That’ll make putting together the array even easier,” enthused Pimuqi.
“Transport components are all modular!
Just slip, slide and click!”