Wandering along the street, John passed a Burjan rain-bar. The door opened as he passed, disgorging a pair of the yellow-skinned aliens. Their weathercloaks were damp and John caught the smell of dank vegetation and wet earth from the open door. The building’s wallscreens were set to show rolling Burjan text with Junian translations beneath, advertising frequent rain showers and fresh bug stew.
John walked past several closed shops, before he came to the Zerraxi temple. Sonorous chants drifted out of the open doors, as well as the musky scents of several Zerraxi gathered in one place. He paused for a moment, to listen to the chants, and then continued on his way.
When John had left the house that morning, he did not have a destination in mind. He had just needed to get out for a while. Leaving a message for Olu and Vesu, he had summoned a groundcar and taken it into the city. For a while, he had wandered the bright, crowded plazas of the Day Market, and then attended an outdoor concert. However, once his stomach started rumbling, John found himself heading for the Sector.
Junian food was normally fine with John, but tonight he was in the mood for something different. No fruits and vegetables, no fish and nuts. Tonight, John was in the mood to sink his teeth into red meat. That meant a trip to Taiaxa’s.
Taiaxa’s was a Zerraxi restaurant. The owner, Taiaxa herself, was a tall, powerfully built Zerraxi female with jet-black hair. Her pale skin was adorned with ochre-hued tribal tattoos. She ran the restaurant with the help of her nine children, and the place was immensely popular. John wasn’t surprised to find a line of patrons, waiting for a table. He attached himself to the end and passed the time chatting with a trio of guardsmen just back from the Colonies. They invited him to join them, but John politely declined.
Taiaxa herself was seating customers. After she had led the guardsmen to a table, she returned, grinning, to John.
“Back again, eh?” said the big Zerraxi woman.
John laughed. “You know I can’t get enough, Tai.”
She bellowed with laughter and led him to a small table in the back of the restaurant. They chatted for a few moments, as Taiaxa did with all her regulars, then she returned to her duties as host. No sooner had Taiaxa left than one of her children appeared with a menu and a tall glass of cold water.
“Hello, Jox.”
The Zerraxi youth offered a tired smile. “Hello, Mr. John. Your usual this evening?”
“Yes, please.”
“We’ll have it out in a bit.”
“Is everything okay, Jox? You look tired.”
Jox grinned, suddenly showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Fine, Mr. John. We’re just a little shorthanded right now. Riki had his satok ze today.”
John tried not to wince. He had read about the Zerraxi adulthood rites. They didn’t sound pleasant. “How did it go?”
The Zerraxi youth’s smile grew even wider. “Toc ne iya sut!”
Now he is a man, thought John. He smiled at the beaming Jox. “Congratulations! Sa ne abe saf ju!”
“May he have many cubs indeed, Mr. John!”
Jox bowed his head and rushed away from the table. John picked up his glass and took a long sip of the cold, fresh water. Turning his head, he swept his gaze over the dining room. It was dark, the wallscreens set to mimic the appearance of bland, beige stone. The furniture was rustic, all rough-hewn wood and hand-tooled leather, created by local Zerraxi artisans.
It was a mixed crowd tonight. John spotted a fair number of Junians, sharing long common tables, sitting elbow to elbow with Zerraxi. A lot of the Zerraxi were dressed up, and John assumed that there had been more than one satok ze that day.
Taiaxa wandered over during a lull at the door, and John congratulated her on Riki completing his rite. The restaurateur grinned and took the empty seat opposite him.
“I’ll have new cubs to spoil soon,” she said.
John grinned. “Really? Riki has a mate in mind?”
“He does. A young beauty named Joneza.” Taiaxa laughed. “He sent her a courting gift as soon as he had finished his rite.”
“Well, best to strike while the iron is hot, I suppose.”
“What about you, John Epcott? When will you find a mate?”
John chuckled. “Would you be interested, Tai?”
The Zerraxi woman laughed again and shook her head. “I’m too old to bear cubs, xeylaz.”
“Are you too old for a good time?”
She leaned toward him and licked her lips. Her grin was toothy and amorous. “Not according to my lovers.”
Jox returned then with John’s meal and Taiaxa left him to enjoy it. John watched her leave, noting the sway of her hips.
“Is mother going to add you to her collection, Mr. John?” Jox asked, amused.
John picked up his knife and fork, cut into the sizzling steak. “If she keeps cooking like this, Jox, maybe.”
Chuckling, Jox shook his head and went back to work.
* * * * *
It was dark when John stepped out of the restaurant. None of the moons were full, and there were clouds massing above the city, promising to deliver another shower. John pulled the hood of his cloak up, and headed for a groundcar station a few blocks away.
He had barely gotten a block away from the restaurant, was passing an alley between two closed shops, when someone grabbed him from behind. Startled, John froze for a second and was shoved into the alley. He tripped on his cloak and fell to the ground.
Scrambling to his feet, he spun to find the alley entrance blocked by three Zerraxi. They were young and lean, their eyes glimmering gold in the dark.
“It’s a male,” complained one.
“A Junian male,” said another. “So it doesn’t matter.”
The first one snorted, then chuckled. “I heard they all bend over for one another. Is that true, little ruz?”
“Let’s find out,” said the other.
John pushed back the hood of his cloak. “I’m not Junian.”
“Vezex!”
The one in the middle snarled. “No names!”
Taking advantage of the distraction, John took two steps forward and kicked the middle Zerraxi as hard as he could between the legs. The man screamed. His golden eyes bulged, comically, and he fell over, clutching at his groin.
The Zerraxi on the right gaped. John turned, stomped his foot at the young male. Flinching, the Zerraxi dropped his hands, to protect his genitals. John punched him in the nose and the Zerraxi’s head snapped back. He howled in pain, as black blood began to pour from his nostrils. Without hesitation, John punched him in the throat. The howl degenerated into a hacking gasp as the Zerraxi fell back, clutching at his nose and throat.
Spinning, hands raised, John was startled to find the third Zerraxi quaking against the far wall. He took a step forward and the male yipped in terror.
Pointing a finger at the trembling Zerraxi, John snarled. “Don’t move!” He reached up and tapped his comm. “Emergency. I need peacekeepers and medics at this location.”
His com chimed, connecting him to the local Emergency Authority. A man said, calmly, “Tell me what’s happened.”
“I’ve been assaulted by three Zerraxi.”
“Remain calm,” said the dispatcher. “Emergency personnel are on the way. How badly are you injured?”
“I’m fine,” snapped John. “The medics are for the Zerraxi.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before the man spoke again. “I’ve accessed your comm’s personal ident, Mr. Epcott. I’ll keep this channel open, until help arrives.”
“Thank you.”
Moments later, three aircars landed outside the alley. Two bore the neon insignia of the peacekeepers, the third was a medical transport. Peacekeepers emerged from the cars, wearing pink and blue armored suits equipped with domed helmets. They were armed with scramblers, weapons that disrupted the voluntary nerve impulses in most known humanoids. As the peacekeepers descended, en mass, upon the Zerraxi, a pair of medics rushed up to John.
&
nbsp; The woman took one look at him and gasped. “Merciful pantheon! What did they do to your hair?” She started scrambling in her shoulder bag.
“I’m fine,” said John. “I’m not even. . . .”
Before John could finish, the medic had slammed an injector against his neck. He jerked back, startled. The world tilted on its side and before he could say or do anything, it was sliding away from John, down a long, black corridor.
* * * * *
John woke to the murmur of soft voices, the scent of rain and the feel of someone holding his hand. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a comfortable bed. Turning his head, he saw he was in one of the medical wards of Ted Dov Primary Hospital. He recognized the yellow walls and dark blue floors from earlier visits. There were privacy curtains set up around his bed, and sitting in a chair next to it, holding his hand, was Iseta.
“Hello.”
Startled, Iseta blinked and half-rose from her chair. A smooth, pale prayerstone flew from her hand, to rattle against the floor.
“John! You’re awake!”
“Shouldn’t I be?” he asked, mildly.
Iseta clutched his hand. “You’ve been unconscious for four days!”
He blinked in surprise. “Four days?” He sat up and regretted it. The room swum around him. He fell back and swallowed. “Whoa.”
Iseta touched his face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just tried to get up too fast.”
“Let me get the medic.”
Reluctantly, Iseta released his hand. Turning, she pulled back a privacy curtain. John caught a glimpse of other beds, saw a Burjan in one and an ancient Archivist in another. Iseta waved frantically at someone out of sight, then turned back to John and reclaimed his hand in both of hers.
“Aunt Olu has been beside herself with worry! She just left to get some rest. Oh, she’ll be furious when she finds out she wasn’t here for your awakening!”
A young man in a blue medical tunic appeared. He had long, bright yellow hair and a warm smile. “Ah! Awake at last, Mr. Epcott. How do you feel?”
Even as he asked the question, the medic pulled on a medical handscanner and began to run it over John’s torso.
“Woozy.”
“Woozy?”
“A little dizzy,” clarified John. “And my mouth is dry.”
“It looks like you’re a little dehydrated.” Turning to Iseta, the medic smiled. “Miss Teneso, would you mind fetching a bottle of water? There’s a dispenser just down the hall.”
Iseta nodded and rushed off. The young medic watched her go with a smile, and then turned back to John. “I must say, Mr. Epcott, you had us all very worried.”
“What happened? The last thing I remember is a medic, injecting me with something.”
“A full dose of tranquilizers. By the time they brought you to us, you were comatose.”
“I did try to tell them I wasn’t Junian,” said John. “But she took one look at my hair and. . . .” He had raised his hand to touch his hair and gasped as he felt smooth bandages wrapped around his skull. “What . . .?”
“It’s all right. You were attracting a bit of attention on the ward, so we did a little camouflaging. Miss Teneso’s aunt said you would be okay with it.”
John chuckled, dropped his hand. “It’s fine. The bandages just caught me off guard.”
The medic nodded and continued his scans. Iseta returned with a bottle of cold water. Slowly, she and the medic helped John sit up. Iseta opened the bottle and helped John hold it as he sipped the contents. His fingers felt leaden.
“Medic Imisu has been so wonderful, John,” gushed Iseta, casting shy glances at the man.
“Just doing my duty, miss,” said Imisu.
John noted, though, that the tips of Imisu’s fingers went rosy. “I’m surprised they didn’t haul old Sufo down here,” he said. “He got pulled in the last time something happened to me.”
Medic Imisu grinned. “If he wasn’t offworld, he probably would be, Mr. Epcott.”
John arched his eyebrows. “Sufo’s gone? Where to?”
“A hospital ship, heading to the Colonies.”
“I had no idea,” said John. “How long will he be gone?”
“A year,” said Imisu. He smiled at John. “But don’t worry. He left us very detailed files on you.”
“I commed Aunt Olu while I was getting the water, John,” said Iseta. She moved the chair and settled into it, watching the medic run the handscanner over John’s torso. “She’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
“That was very kind of you, Iseta. How long have you been here?”
She lowered her head and murmured, “Not long. Just a few hours.”
“Just a few hours? You must be hungry.”
“A little.”
“When Olu gets here, you should go get something to eat. Perhaps Medic Imisu could take you down to the cafeteria?”
Iseta’s fingertips turned scarlet, and she curled her fingers against her palms. Imisu smiled broadly. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Well,” said the young woman, shyly, “if I wouldn’t be any trouble....”
“None,” said the young man. “My relief is due any minute now.”
Damn, thought John, watching the smiling couple. Olu, you’re rubbing off on me.
* * * * *
Moments later, Olu arrived wearing a sheer blue robe decorated with thousands of tiny golden flowers. She looked tired, but happy. The moment she arrived, she took both of John’s hands and bent over the bed to kiss his forehead. Behind her aunt, Iseta’s eyes widened at this shocking display. Medic Imisu turned away, fiddling with the collar of his tunic. The tips of his fingers were scarlet with embarrassment.
“John, I swear by the pantheon that you are going to turn my hair white before its time,” said Olu, with fond irritation. She settled herself in the visitor’s chair, and glowered at him. “What in the world were you doing in the Alien Sector?”
While John began to recount his story, Iseta and Medic Imisu made a discreet exit. Olu listened to John recount his encounter with the Zerraxi. After he had finished, she shook her head. “I should warn you. The incident is all over the newsfeeds.”
“The incident?” said John. “That sounds ominous.”
“Apparently this Vezex character has been connected to a number of other attacks in the Sector. Since his capture a number of other victims have come forward.” She shook her head. “It’s all very unpleasant.”
John frowned. “I can imagine.”
“There is also,” said Olu, “a political dimension. One of Vezex’s accomplices is the son of the Zerraxi ambassador.”
“Ouch.”
Olu frowned. “Are you in pain, John?”
“No,” said John. “I’m fine. What’s going to happen next?”
“Vezex will be deported to Zerrax.”
John frowned. “Won’t he have to stand trial for his crimes here?”
“He’s not a Junian citizen. He’ll be deported to Zerrax and stand trial there.”
“That doesn’t sound fair. His crimes were committed here.”
“If you’re concerned that he won’t be punished, John, calm yourself. The Zerraxi legal system is much more ruthless than the Junian. Vezex will not escape unscathed.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“Although,” said Olu, “I’m not sure any Zerraxi judgment, short of execution, could be worse than what you did to him.”
“Oh please,” said John. “I kicked him in the balls. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” chided Olu. “The Zerraxi male reproductive system is very sensitive. It took more than fifty hours of nanoreconstructive surgery to save Vezex’s testicles.”
“He’s a lousy rapist, Olu. Losing his balls should be the least of his punishments.”
Olu clasped his hand, and smiled sadly. “Sometimes, John, I forget just how alien you are.”
* * * * *
The next morning,
John was unwinding the bandages from his head when he received unexpected visitors, a man and a woman from the peacekeepers. They wore the same blue and pink uniform, but the woman was tall and thin, her dark yellow hair starting to fade to gray. Her partner was much younger, with shoulder-length dark blue hair and a small build.
“John Epcott?” The woman asked, standing at the foot of John’s bed.
“Yes?” John continued to unwind the bandages. The younger officer watched him with interest.
“I’m Peacekeeper Musin Loj and this is my trainee, Hofi Kesip. We’ve been asked to escort you to your residence.”
John frowned and paused in removing the bandages. “Why?”
“News of your imminent release from the hospital has reached the public,” explained Loj. “There are several hundred people waiting for you outside.”
“Newsmakers?” asked John.
“Some,” said Loj. “Most are admirers and well-wishers.”
“Oh Lord,” muttered John, lapsing into English. “It’s deja vu all over again.”
Musin Loj frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that.”
“Sorry,” said John. “I’ve been in this situation before, when I first arrived on Juni. I got a very warm reception.” He shook his head at the memory. He had been deluged with gifts and even a few marriage proposals.
“People are fascinated by you, Mr. Epcott,” gushed Hofi Kesip.
Loj gave her trainee a disapproving glance. “There is some concern that the crowd may become too enthusiastic.”
“You think they might try to mob me?”
Loj frowned. “Perhaps.”
“What will they do if they don’t see me?”
“Hopefully, they’ll disperse once they realize you’ve already left.”
“So, we’re sneaking out the back?”
“We have an aircar waiting for you on the roof,” said Kesip, grinning.
“Some of my friends were coming to meet me,” said John. “I’ll need to notify them.” He reached for his comm, but Loj stopped him.
“I wouldn’t do that, sir. We think your comm may be . . . compromised.”
John blinked. “Really?”
“Yes, sir. If you’ll give me your friends’ comm-codes, I’ll notify them for you.”
Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing Page 3