Burnt Worlds (28 page)

The speaker in Cho’s helmet crackled loudly, and he poked at the volume control on his suit’s left forearm.
 
“Landing site clear and clean,” came the pilot’s voice.
 
“Twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds,” repeated the Lieutenant, turning to his right.
 
Petty Officer Lee was already on his feet, tapping the helmets of his five crewmembers.
 
As they looked up at him, he began giving instructions, one hand holding the grab bar above his head.

Switching channels, Cho turned to his left.
 
The bulky, ill-fitting suit seated next to him was curled forward, fingers poking at controls and connectors on the abdominal plate.

“Sap?” asked Cho.
 
“Your suit okay?”

The Mechanic sat up straight, his red and yellow face visible through the visor.
 
His voice came through Cho’s speaker.
 
“The suit,” his gauntleted hand pointed at the abdomen, “is configured for waste removal.”

“It’s an older model, for longer trips—”

The Mechanic pointed again at his suit’s abdomen.
 
“It is intended for humans to relieve themselves in their suits?”

“Well, yes—”

Saparun shook his head, the movement exaggerated by the suit.
 
“Have humans not learned to hold it in?”

Cho shrugged.
 
“Like I said, it’s for long trips.”

The Dosh merely stared at him, blinking.
 
He was about to speak when the pilot’s voice crackled through their helmets.
 
“Contact,” said the voice.
 
“Thank you for flying with us today.
 
Be sure to visit the duty-free.”

Everyone rose to their feet as the engines wound down.
 
The members of Lee’s team, holding their carbines in one hand, gave one another’s suits a final check.
 
When each of them gave a thumbs-up to Lee, the petty officer repeated the gesture to Cho, who nodded and pulled on the door handle.

Wisps of grey and black dust swept into the cabin.
 
Cho jumped down from the shuttle door, his feet landing on a soft snowlike drift.
 
The gentle wind had already begun to sculpt the dust around the shuttle’s landing gear.
 
One by one, the other crewmembers jumped down after him.

Overhead, the murky grey clouds were striped with black and brown, smearing their way across the sky.
 
Shifting bands of weak yellow sunlight fluttered by, casting the drifts and dunes of dust into alternating light and shadow.

“An artificial surface,” said Saparun.
 
Cho saw the Dosh a few steps away from him, awkwardly kneeling on a patch of landing pad that had been blown clear of dust.
 
Around them, Lee and his crew formed a wary, outward-facing circle.

“This is amazing,” breathed Cho, slowly turning where he stood.
 
The landing pad was a hundred paces across, with a tower and two small structures at the far end.
 
He looked down at the Mechanic.
 
“What’s it made of?”

“A composite, I should think, of ceramic and plastic.
 
Not beyond our own technology.”

Cho looked over to where Lee crouched a dozen paces away.
 
The petty officer was watching a handheld scanner with one hand, while making brief gestures toward his crew with the other.
 
Cho tapped the computer on his forearm to switch communications channels.
 
“Lee, anyone home around here?”

Lee turned his head to look over at Cho.
 
“No sir, just us and a lot of dust.
 
No power sources.
 
Nothing.”

“Understood.
 
Let’s make our way over to those structures.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Cho flipped channels again.
 
“Can you get a sample, Sap?”

The Dosh stood, holding up a small pack.
 
“I have samples of the atmosphere and of the dust.
 
But the landing pad is intact; I will need to find a piece that is broken off.”

“Okay,” said the Lieutenant.
 
He looked toward the distant structures, then up at the sky.
 
He looked left and right, sighing audibly.
 

Saparun stopped mid-step, and turned to face him.
 
“Lieutenant?”

Cho glanced at the Mechanic.
 
“What?
 
Sorry.
 
I mean…” he gestured vaguely at the shuttle, and the dunes of dust, and the cautiously-moving crewmembers.
 
“Sap,” he said.
 
“This is big, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is evidence of an entirely new civilisation we’ve never seen before.
 
This is huge.”

“It is a significant discovery, this is true.”

Cho shook his head, and began walking across the landing pad, toward the structures.
 
“I always wondered,” he said slowly into his headset, “what it would be like.”

The Dosh said nothing, but fell into step beside him.

“I mean,” Cho continued, “to do something big.
 
Discover a new planet, or meet a new sentient race.
 
And here I am.”

“You are,” said Saparun.

“I didn’t expect the Captain to send me down.
 
I assumed he’d come himself.
 
This is…” he looked at the structures.
 
“I used to dream about this.”

The two of them slowed as they climbed a waist-high drift, their boots kicking up small clouds of dust.
 
“If I recall,” said Saparun, “it was the Chief who told you.”

“Yeah, but she did say it was the Captain’s idea.
 
And besides, when the Chief of the ship says to go, I go.”
 
He spread his hands reverently in front of him as he walked.
 
“Chiefs speak with the voices of their Captains, and the authority of their gods.”

“So I have seen,” said the Mechanic.
 
“Human officers often defer to highly-experienced Chiefs.
 
It is wise.”

-----

“Wow, this thing’s bigger than I thought.”

The crew had come to the edge of the landing pad, and were spread out around Cho and Saparun.
 
Between two boxy structures, a tall, thin spike of a tower rose into the sky.
 
Like the structures and the landing pad, the tower’s black surface had the hint of a dark shine, a polished smoothness that reflected traces of sunlight.
 

“How high is that?” asked Cho, leaning back to peer upward.
 
“Fifteen metres?”

Saparun looked at his datapad.
 
“Sixteen point four.
 
There are features at the top that suggest something may have been attached there.
 
Some communications or research equipment, perhaps.”

Lee’s voice came through their helmets, each curt phrase punctuated by a brief pop of static.
 
“Still no movement, sir.
 
Handheld scanners can’t see into the structures.
 
Orders?”

Cho hesitated, then tapped at the pad on his arm.
 
“Set up the research scanners here, take a full reading of everything.
 
I’m going to see if I can find a way into these buildings, so keep an eye out for… whatever.”

The petty officer nodded.
 
“Aye aye, sir.
 
We’ll get the research gear set up.”
 
His voice was clipped by static.
 
“We’ll get a complete sweep, full spectrum, in ten minutes.
 
Be careful poking the building, sir.”

The Lieutenant switched channels again.
 
He could hear Lee begin to give orders to his crew; the tactical channel was partly muted in his helmet.
 
Saparun’s voice, on their private channel, came through clearly.
 
“How will you get into the buildings, Cho?”

He turned to look at the Mechanic, and gave a grin as he shrugged.
 
“I have no idea.”

With the Dosh close behind him, he reached the nearest building.
 
Like its twin, it was a squat, boxy structure, five paces a side and barely two metres high.
 
The surface was smooth and dark.
 

The Lieutenant stepped next to the door-shaped ridge on the wall.
 
The surface of the building was smooth save for the razor-thin seam.
 
Cho tapped tentatively on the door.
 
“Anyone home?” he asked, turning to glance at the Mechanic.
 
The Dosh looked up at the building, shrugging.

The human looked back at the door, carefully running a fingertip around the seam.
 
“I’m glad you’re here, Sap.
 
This is a big chance to prove myself.”

“Cho,” said Saparun, “not every moment is about proving yourself.”

“Yes, it is.”

The Dosh Mechanic stood quietly, watching as the human continued running his fingertip around the door seam.
 
“Has it always been so?”

“Pretty much,” said Cho.
 

Saparun cocked his head.
 
“Your parents made it so?”

The human shrugged.
 
“Never really knew them.
 
They were killed in the bombardment of New Hefei.
 
Some Commonwealth agency adopted out orphans.
 
I went to a family on Laurier Station.”
 
Cho paused, leaning against the door as if listening at a keyhole, his other hand tapping on the surface.
 
He shrugged again.
 
“They were decent enough.
 
Already had a kid, Jeffrey.
 
Always the comparisons.
 
‘Taller than’, ‘smarter than’.
 
It never really stopped.”

“Where is Jeffrey now?”

Cho didn’t stop tapping at the door.
 
“Double doctorate, research chemist.
 
Adaptive solvents, last I heard.”
 
He stopped for a moment.
 
“He’s never been off the station.
 
Me, I couldn’t wait.”
 

Straightening up, he stepped back from the door, folding his arms in front of his chest.
 
“He’s a good enough guy, I guess.”
 
He stared at the door a while, his eyes scanning the featureless surfaces.
 
“I'm stuck, Sap.
 
I have no idea how to open this damn thing.”

The Mechanic nodded.
 
“I admit, it is a challenge.
 
We need to manipulate the door mechanism, though there are no handles.
 
Assuming the building has no power, we should assume the latch is physical in nature.”

Cho looked back at the door.
 
“That gives me an idea.
 
Can I borrow your datapad?”
 

Dillon stared up at the ceiling above his bunk.
 
The same pipes, the same plating, the same view as always.
 
No matter how long he looked at it, it never changed.
 
Every time he opened his eyes, he was still in the same cabin.

He wasn’t surprised when the door panel chirped at him.
 
Of course, someone had come to bother him.
 
Atwell's got the bridge, I'm getting updates, everything's fine.
 
Black and Atwell tell me to wait and relax.
 
So why can't I relax?
 
Because the universe won't let me.
 
It'll send a parade of people to knock on my door.

“For fuck’s sake, door.
 
Who is it?”

Another small chirp.
 
“It is Amba,” said a melodic voice.
 
“May I come in?”

Huh.

The ceiling still hadn’t changed.
 
His mind began to wander, but didn’t get far.
 
That voice.
 
That skin, that hair, those eyes.
 
But not now.
 
I can’t do this.
 
I want to be alone.
 
I need to—

Chirp.
 
“It is Amba,” said the recording again.
 
“May I come in?”

That voice.
 
Should I or shouldn’t I?

With a grunt that sounded like it belonged to a much older man, he swung his legs over the side of the rack and heaved himself up to a sitting position.
 
“Open,” he said, impulsively.
 

Too late.
 
I did.

Hunched over, his elbows on his knees, he didn’t look up when the door opened and closed again.

“Hello, Feda,” she said.
 
Even so quiet, her voice was musical, like an old song, half forgotten.
 
“May I sit?”

With a half-hearted flourish, he rolled his left hand in the direction of his chair.
 
There was the merest rustle of clothes, the tiniest scent of orange blossoms, as the Tassali stepped closer.
 
Two smooth white boots entered the edge of his vision, followed by the soft creak of the chair.
 
The cabin returned to silence.

Dillon glanced up.
 
The cobalt blue eyes looked into his, the porcelain face holding the hint of a smile.
 
Brilliant cascades of blue hair settled about her shoulders, the colour sharp against the white of her robes and coldsuit.

Good god, you’re beautiful.
“Hi,” he sighed.

“Hi.”