Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (47 page)

“We’ve just received a message from the
Dawnwind
, sir.
 
Their First Engineer is going to do a complete system reset to try and purge the rogue.”

Zetajo raised his eyebrows and considered the news.
 
“Ask them to keep us informed, guardsman.
 
First Engineer Sul!”

A rotund man with pale red hair and eyepaint resembling greasy fingerprints stepped out of the dark.
 
“Yes, First?”

“Would a system reset purge the rogue?”

First Engineer Sul considered the question.
 
“Possibly, sir.
 
But we would lose all our info and it would take us hours to get back to normal operations.
 
Perhaps as long as a day.”

“What about basic operations?”

“We could have those up in two hours, First.”

“Excuse me, Officer Zetajo.
 
May I have a word?”

Zetajo turned.
 
Nuso Hepiniv, the Third Officer of the Sixth Fleet, had joined them.
 
Hepiniv’s transport had been delayed by the rogue, trapping the man aboard Doorstep.
 
Once the extent of the rogue’s malevolence had become apparent, Hepiniv had come to the command and requested a terminal. Now, for the first time in hours, the man was speaking to Zetajo.

“If you reset the station’s systems, we’ll lose the rogue’s trail.
 
At this point, that would be inexcusable.”

Zetajo bowed his head.
 
“With respect, sir, I’ve got a station full of frightened civilians and offworlders.
 
I believe keeping them safe is more important than tracking the rogue to its source.”

“I disagree,” said Hepiniv.
 
“This agent, and its creator, represents a clear and imminent threat to the security of Juni.
 
Eliminating that threat is more important than the discomfort of a few hundred people.”

“What if the rogue gets worse, sir?” asked Zetajo.
 
“Suppose its next act is to open an airlock?
 
If that happens, we’ll be dealing with more than mere discomfort.
 
We’ll have sacrificed people that we could have saved.”

“That hasn’t happened,” said Hepiniv.
 
“The rogue has been disruptive, but no one has been killed by it.”

“Not yet,” interjected Sul. “But there have been unexpected power surges, sir.
 
Over thirty people have been sent to the station’s infirmary with injuries.”

“Noted, First Engineer,” said Hepiniv.
 
“I would ask, Mr. Zetajo, that you do not attempt a system reset until after the
Dawnwind
completes her own.
 
If, after that, she does not become reinfected with the rogue, then, by all means, reset the station’s systems.
 
Until then, I believe that First Engineer Sul can keep Doorstep running.”

“That’s actually a good idea, First,” said Sul.
 
“We don’t know the vector the rogue used to compromise our systems.
 
It’s possible
Dawnwind
might be infected by it again.”

Zetajo frowned.
 
“Very well.
 
We’ll hold off until we see how the
Dawnwind
’s strategy plays out.”

“Pantheon willing,” murmured Sul, “it’ll work.”

* * * * *

 
Upio Jovut’s leg was starting to ache, a sure sign that he had been on it too long.
 
Each step brought a twinge of pain, prompting him to find his way to
Dawnwind
’s infirmary.
 
The First Defender was surprised to discover a number of other guardsmen waiting for medical attention.
 
Most of the injuries seemed minor, but one young woman looked to have been badly scalded.
 
She was being tended to by a concerned young medic.

 
Upio joined the waiting wounded.
 
Their conversation was soft, full of rumor and speculation about what was going on with the ship’s systems.
 

An older man stepped into the waiting area.
 
He was tall and thin, with short, dark blue hair and an expression that could have soured wine.
 
The insignia on his uniform identified him as the First Medic and Fifth Officer.
 
His gaze drifted over the waiting guardsmen, paused for a moment on Jovut, then slid past him.
 
The First Medic went to a guardsman holding a compress to his head.

“What happened?” The First Medic’s tone was brusque but his manner was gentle.
 
He removed the compress and peered at the man’s scalp.

“I was working in the transport bay when the gravity spasmed.
 
When it restored I hit my head on a ladder.”

Grunting, the medic led the man to a nearby examination table.
 
“Sit there.”

Jovut watched the medic inject the guardsman with an anesthetic before he set to work repairing the injury.
 
He kept up a steady, soothing stream of words as he went about his work and, a few minutes later, sent the guardsman on his way.

After that, the medic made quick work of the other wounded.
 
His manner was brisk, but knowledgeable.
 
Most of the injuries, as Upio had ascertained, were minor.
 
They could all be blamed on the rogue agent wreaking havoc with the ship’s systems.
 
Finally, the First Medic approached Upio.

“Third Officer, how can I help you?”

“My leg is giving me trouble,” said Upio.
 
He touched the offending limb.

The First Medic ran his handscanner over it.
 
“Did you fall?”

“No, it’s an old injury.
 
It acts up from time to time.”

Studying the display, the First Medic frowned.
 
“The limb is synthetic?”

“Yes.”

“How did you lose the original?”

“I was wounded during the Bright Sky Conflict.”

“I was at Bright Sky.
 
That was an ugly business.”

“Yes,” agreed Upio.
 
“It was.”

“Hesef Madivo,” said the First Medic, extending his palms.
 
“At Bright Sky, I was aboard the
Healing Hands
.”

Upio stroked the medic’s palms.
 
“I was on Bright Sky itself.
 
Part of the rearguard, under Fleet Officer Fetali.”

“Fetali?
 
Wasn’t she the one who blew up the mines?”

“She was.”

“Why did she do it?” asked Madivo.
 
“I’ve never understood that.”

“Honestly?
 
I think she did it just to spoil the Dilatans’ meal.”

Madivo raised his eyebrows.
 
“It sounds like she was an interesting woman.”

Upio smiled, sadly.
 
“She was . . . complicated.”

The First Medic grunted.
 
“Whoever cooked up this leg for you did a bad job.”

“It’s worked perfectly fine for years.”

“But you’ve experienced discomfort since you were first fitted with it.
 
Correct?”

Upio shrugged.
 
“The medic said there would be a period of adjustment.”

Madivo snorted.
 
“That period of adjustment should have ended after the first day.
 
No, the reason the leg causes you discomfort is because your body is trying to reject it.”

“No one else has ever made that diagnosis,” protested the First Defender.

“I’ll bet whenever you’ve gone to a medic, they’ve just scanned your implant and given you anti-inflamatories.”
 
He shook his head, a look of irritation plain on his face.
 
“Treating the symptoms and not their cause.
 
If they’d bothered to scan the leg and the neural interface they would have figured out the problem immediately.”

Upio frowned.
 
“Wouldn’t I have manifested more severe symptoms, if my body was trying to reject the leg?”

“Your implant has been actively suppressing most of them,” said Madivo.
 
“But it can only do so much for so long.
 
It’s reached its limit.”

The First Defender frowned.
 
“Can you fix the problem?”

“Easily.
 
It’s just a matter of altering the leg, so that your immune system doesn’t see it as a threat.”

“How long will that take?”

“Five minutes for a scan and fifteen minutes to alter the leg.”

Upio blinked.
 
“That’s all?”

“That’s all.
 
We can start now if you’d like.”

The First Defender shook his head.
 
“We’ll have to wait.
 
I need to find the First and make sure he knows what’s going on with the rogue agent.”

“He knows, sir.”

Upio turned, saw the young medic who had been treating the burn victim.
 
He had finished with his patient and sat at a workstation.

“Who knows what, Cij?” Madivo asked, testily.

The medic ducked his head.
 
“The First knows about the rogue agent, sir. A tech came by a little while ago, before we got so busy, to let us know the First Engineer was going to restart
the ship’s systems, to try and purge the rogue.
 
He said the First Officer had stopped by the core to check on the situation.”

Upio sighed.
 
“I don’t suppose they said anything about comms working again, did they, guardsman?”

“I’m afraid not, Third.
 
Ship’s comms are still down,” said Cij.

“I hope they’re going to notify the crew before they try this,” said Madivo.
 
“Otherwise, we’re liable to see another flood of patients.”

Upio stood.
 
“I should get to the command.”

“What about the leg?”

“The leg will have to wait.
 
Duty first.”

Madivo grunted.
 
“Fine, but let me give you something for the discomfort.”

He produced an injector and pressed it against Upio’s thigh.
 
“That should mask the pain for about twelve hours, First Defender.
 
But I want you back in here after that, to adjust that leg.”

“Of course,” said Upio, inclining his head and trying not to smile.

* * * * *

 
There was no gravity on the command.

John Epcott stepped through the bulkhead door, into unexpected weightlessness.
 
Training kicked in and he automatically compensated for drift.
 
Turning, he saw Fel clasp Kami’s boot and drag the startled young woman out of midair.

“First on the command!”

There was a flurry of startled activity from workstations around the space.

“As you were, guardsmen,” said John.
 

He spotted Temun, floating over the First’s position.
 
John swam through the air, toward the other man.
 
“What’s our status, Second?”

Temun offered a wan smile.
 
“We’re experiencing gravity fluctuations all over the ship, First.”

John raised his dark eyebrows.
 
“This seems to be a little more than a fluctuation.”

“This isn’t a malfunction, sir.
 
I had the techs disable the gravity in the command.
 
We won’t be able to do anything if our people are gravity sick.”

“Good thinking.
 
Any word from the core?
 
Is Vetew ready to reset the systems?”