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

car?”
    Som rolled his eyes.   “No, silly.   It’s attached to the top of the groundcar.”
    He handed his PIN to Deso.   She stared at the screen, saw a map of the area streets with a flashing dot moving along them that obviously represented Som’s camera.  
    “Let’s go.”
    He reached forward and touched the auto-driver controls.   “Destination, please.”
    “Switch to manual control,” ordered Som.
    “Please provide your name and personal ident-code for license confirmation,” said the auto-driver.
    Som rattled off his name and personal ident-code like a machine.   The auto-driver chimed softly and announced, “License confirmed.   You have manual control.”
    “Now,” said Som, taking the groundcar’s controls, “where are we going, Deso?”
    * * * * *
      The Alien Sector blazed after dark, its restaurants and nightclubs offering new experiences to the more jaded members of the Junian public.   As their groundcar slid along the streets, Vesu peered out the window with interest.
    “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”
    “I lived here for a few weeks after I first arrived on Juni,” said John.  
    They were on the edge of the Sector, where it brushed up against one of the major commercial districts.   Here, the streets were thronged with people.   Only as the car slid deeper into the Sector did the pedestrian traffic lighten.
    “It’s not a bad neighborhood.”
    The groundcar came to a gentle stop.   John grinned and opened the door, climbed out of the vehicle.   Vesu and Olu followed him, found themselves standing outside a busy restaurant.   There was a line of customers waiting to get inside.   Olu noticed that it was a mixed crowd, Junians and various offworlders.   There were several Zerraxi present, as well as a tall Burjan, a white-furred Juxxan and a pair of Jurkuroi.
    Vesu was squinting at the front of the line.   “Is that a Groivan?”
    John flipped back the hood of his over-robe, and followed Vesu’s gaze.   “Probably.”
    The three of them attached themselves to the end of the line, behind a Junian couple.   The woman wore the green and black uniform of the Junian Guard.   Her male companion wore a pale orange cloak over a sheer blue tunic and blousy green trousers.   The man turned and nodded, then blinked in surprise at the sight of John’s dark hair.   John saw the recognition appear in the man’s gaze.
    “Excuse me,” said the fellow. “Are you John Epcott?”
    John plastered a smile on his face.   “I am.”
    “Oh!” The man’s eyes widened and he touched his companion’s arm.   “Tonu, look! It’s John Epcott!”
    The woman shot John an apologetic look and glowered at her friend.   “Yes, Eja, I can see that.”
    “I’m a great admirer of yours, Mr. Epcott!” gushed the man.
    “Thank you.   Mister?”
    “Oh!” Hastily, the man made a proper greeting, pale hands flashing from his shoulders outward. “I’m Eja Zef!   And this is my friend, Tonu Nozelu!”
    John brushed Zef’s palms with his own hands, nodding at Tonu.   “A pleasure to meet you both.   These are my friends, Olu Teneso and Vesu Oza.”
    Polite greetings were exchanged among the group.
    “Have you been here before, Mr. Epcott?” Nozelu asked, indicating the restaurant.
    John grinned.   “I’m a regular.”
    “Was this where you were attacked?” Zef asked, a bit breathlessly.
    “Eja!” Tonu Nozelu snapped at her friend, whose face had gone quite pale as he realized he might have committed a serious gaffe.   He actually tucked his hands, fingers red as blood, beneath his armpits in mortification.
    “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t think! I. . . .”
    “It’s all right,” said John.   “The attack happened a few blocks away.”
    “It must have been awful!” said Eja Zef.
    “Well, it certainly was for the attackers,” said John, mildly.
    Zef’s eyes widened with amazement, while a look of startled amusement flashed across