Free Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing by George R. Shirer

human.   That suggested things about Epcott that were genuinely intriguing to Fi.
    His own brief encounter with the man, earlier, had only made Fi Mosu more curious.   The human’s responses to his questions, intended to be deliberately provocative,   had been thoughtful and even-handed.     Now, Fi found himself wanting to do a proper interview with Epcott, not just about the assaults, but also about the man himself.   If Epcott agreed and the interviews were handled properly, Fi thought that it might give his career a sizeable boost.
    But Fi suspected that he would have to approach Epcott carefully.   Let Nesomi and Som pester the man.   Fi knew their interview styles and suspected that Nesomi’s belligerence and Som’s oiliness would not ingratiate them to the alien.  
    No, thought Fi.   He would let his colleagues take the lead and, ultimately, take themselves out of the competition.   Then, he would step in, with his request for an interview.   All he had to do until then was watch and wait.   Grinning, Fi decided that maybe a quick dip in the lake would be fine after all.
    * * * * *
      John glanced up from the PIN he had been studying.   Vesu had arrived, accompanied by a young woman with yellow hair so dark that it was almost the color of mustard.   She wore a long blue robe, over a yellow dress that revealed a generous portion of leg.   The young woman was arguing about some esoteric subject with Vesu.   As John watched, Vesu paused on the threshold of Olu’s office and turned to the young woman.
    “I understand what you’re saying, Miss Nop, and we can discuss it in more depth later.”   Vesu placed particular emphasis on the last word.   “But as of this moment, I am done instructing for the day. Contact me tomorrow and we’ll set up an appointment to address the rest of your concerns.”
    The young woman frowned.   “But . . .   !”
    “Good night, Miss Nop,” said Vesu.
    John thought the young woman would continue to argue, but then she seemed to realize that they were not alone.   She glanced away from Vesu, noting the presence of Olu and John.   Her gaze froze on John and she stared.
    “You’re John Epcott! The Last Human!”
    Silently, John nodded.   Ito lowered her head, her fingertips flushing scarlet.   Without another word, she turned, bobbed her head in farewell to Vesu, and fled down the corridor.
    “Well,” said John, “that was unusual.”
    Vesu shook his head and ambled over to the couch, where he sat, heavily.   “Ito Nop is an unusual girl.”
    Olu chuckled.   “Poor Vesu.   Rough day?”
    “It was going fine until the last fifteen minutes.   Nop walked with me from my last class, wanting to talk about her essay.”   He sighed.   “Clever girl, but she has all the sensitivity of a razorbeak.”
    John chuckled.   “Well, the day is over with now, so put it behind you.”   He patted Vesu’s hand.
    “Fine by me,” said the man.   “How did things go with Lewij?”
    “She was very informative.”
    “Good,” said Vesu.   “Now, where shall we go for dinner?   I’ve heard about this wonderful new restaurant over in Kuciz District.   They’re supposed to have over a dozen versions of fish stew on the menu.”
    “I think John has some place in mind,” said Olu.
    Vesu looked intrigued.
    * * * * *
      Deso Nesomi checked her eyepaint in her PIN.   She produced a cosmetic tube from her belt and carefully replaced some of the sparkle she had lost during the day.   Not too much, of course.   She didn’t want to look like some addlebrained lifechanger, wearing sparkle-powder like foundation.   Just enough to emphasize the shape of her eye, to contrast with the mid-tone blue eyepaint.   Satisfied with her repairs, she returned to surveying the university.
    “Any luck?”
    Deso scowled. Wisiw Som was sitting on a bench behind her. Som was in his sixties, his short golden hair starting to turn white at the roots.   He didn’t wear