Burnt Worlds (6 page)

After exiting the landing pad, they found themselves on a long roadway that stretched off to the left and right.
 
On both sides of the road, barely visible in the soaking green gloom, were more round-walled landing pads.
 
Large symbols were carved into the walls of each, next to the arches.
 
Dillon took a long look at the symbols next to the arch they had come through.
 
“Seventeen,” he said to himself.

The road to their left led toward a bright blue light in the distance, so the four started off in that direction.
 
The downpour drummed on their hoods and coats, and water streamed down them to the ground.
 
Their boots squelched and slipped in the mud.

“No one else is about,” muttered Dillon.
 
“Can’t say I blame them.”

Saparun finally broke his silence, though his soft voice was barely loud enough to hear over the rain.
 
“I remember Tashann.
 
It rains very often here.
 
The droplets are slightly green.
 
Moulds thrive everywhere.
 
We will be sneezing tomorrow.”

“If that’s the worst it does, then it’s not bad.”

The alien’s hood nodded.
 
“I was here a hundred and seventy years ago.
 
Our ship was often damaged.
 
That was how I learned to be a mechanic.
 
This was a busy place then.
 
A good place to go to avoid people.”

The Captain looked at him sideways.
 
“Who were you avoiding?”

“Palani temple commandos.
 
They thought we had stolen religious artifacts.”

“Had you?”

The Dosh shrugged.
 
“Of course.”

“Are they still looking for you now?”

“No, Captain,” said Saparun.
 
“They got the justice they wanted.”

They trudged on in silence, along the rows of landing pads, looking with interest at each strange ship they passed.
 
The ships, some of them centuries old, represented a dozen or more different planets of origin.
 
Each of them had been battered and beaten and repaired, time and again, using a bizarre hodgepodge of parts and components.
 
Some were lit up, with shapes moving about in their bright interiors.
 
Up ahead, one ship had a glitter of brilliant light flickering from its underside.
 
As they got nearer, it resolved into the sparkling glow of a handheld welder.
 
Its spike-backed user, hunkered in the shelter of its ship, looked up from its work and nodded as the
Borealis
crew walked by.
 
Dillon gave a brief wave of his hand, acknowledging the alien spacefarer.
 

-----

They were two hours in the spaceport’s warehouse, negotiating the purchase of supplies from a short, armour-headed creature named Purnotta.
 
Their new 'friend' had been delighted to try out his knowledge of the galaxy’s new trade language with actual native speakers — humans, in his shop! — and his happy enthusiasm had drawn out the haggling far beyond the point of being awkward.

But at last, Sap’s long list had been filled as much as could be managed on a remote world like Tashann.
 
They had even found some capacitors of various makes, which was unexpected; once installed,
Borealis
would be able to properly use her secondary beam weapons and, should it ever be repaired, the jump drive.
 
Repairing that was going to be complicated.
 
Only the galaxy’s largest militaries, and a few ridiculously rich business conglomerates, had jump drives on their ships in addition to normal FTL engines.
 
Expecting Tashann to have parts lying around was faint hope at best.
 
But they’d found a few blocks of amorphous matter — used by the fabricators to create parts — so at least they could begin repairs to some other systems.
 
There were even a couple of Tunnel cells available, which they’d quickly snapped up despite the price.
 
They were public-communication models, their other ends connected to galactic network hubs.
 
So while they weren’t secure, they would still provide vital additional links to the rest of the galaxy.
 
And home.

Another problem had been the matter of food.
 
There was a lot of food available, in a wide variety of shapes, colours and textures, but Sap’s handheld scanner revealed that almost all of it would be ruinous for human and/or Dosh digestive systems.
 
They’d managed to find a couple crates of some bland Kenma grain meal in a revolting shade of yellow-green; apparently it would provide some nutrition while avoiding gastric trouble.
 
It was looking like Vitamin C was, as usual, going to be a problem for the human crew.
 
A half-crate of amorphous organic matter would tide them over, allowing the food replicators to build nutritional-supplement pills to provide what the food lacked.

Heading back to the landing pad to await the delivery of twenty crates of purchases, Dillon was dismayed and yet rather impressed to discover that the rain had, somehow, intensified.
 
It was like walking under a waterfall that went on and on, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so wet without being submerged.
 
The water streamed off them in rivers, and it was with relief that they finally saw the silhouette of the shuttle waiting for them, with its open door and promise of shelter.
 
Lee and his crew stood outside, still protecting their ride.
 
Dillon was pleased; he’d already decided not to fault them if they’d retreated into the shuttle’s cabin.

After he climbed in, he threw back his hood and slumped onto the bench at the back of the shuttle.
 
Saparun clambered aboard, hesitating as he tried to decide where to sit.
 
Dillon motioned to the bench next to him, and turned his head to see where their escort had gone.
 
O’Neil and Graham had wordlessly chosen to remain outside the shuttle, in the pouring rain, joining their squadmates in guarding the small ship.

Dillon sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead, letting his head clunk against the metal.
 
He closed his eyes, but even over the din of the rain outside he could hear the Dosh fidgeting.
 
He decided he had to put the Mechanic out of his misery, but wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Hey, Sap.
 
Did you read about the
Hawke
?”

“That name is familiar, Captain.
 
A ship.”

“Yeah.
 
The British were building it.
 
It was supposed to be a sister to the
Vanguard
.”

“Ah, yes.
 
I have heard about that ship.
 
A monster.
 
The largest moving object ever created by humans.”

Dillon nodded.
 
“Yeah.
 
Larger than the Washington dockyards, or the entire Mumbai spaceport.
 
Nearly ruined their economy to build it, and they had originally planned to build two.”

“It is folly, Captain.
 
But the engineering involved is quite interesting.”

“Apparently they couldn’t get the second ship’s power plant delivered.
 
And costs were out of control, so they cancelled it.”

Saparun shook his head.
 
“The Dosh have no ships nearly that big.
 
I do not think the Palani do either.”
 
He paused.
 
“Humans are strange sometimes, Captain. I do not understand many things you do.”

“Yeah.
 
And we don't understand the Dosh either,” said Dillon, trying to sound as casual as he could.
 
“I’m scheduled to take the xeno relations course this summer.
 
August, I think.
 
They’re going to teach me how to get along with Dosh and all the other races.
 
Apparently I have to take classes so I won’t piss everyone off.”
 
He peeked out of the corner of his eye, and could see that Sap had a hint of a grin.

“I think you will do very well,” said the red-and-yellow-skinned alien.
 
“I am uncertain what they would be able to teach you.
 
You already know a lot.”

Dillon nodded.
 
“Thank you.
 
I was thinking the same thing.”
 
He took a breath.
 
“For instance, right now I’m pretty sure that there’s something bugging you.”
 
He saw the grin disappear, as the green eyes looked downward.
 
“Sap,” he continued, “it’s going to be a hell of a long trip home if everyone keeps bottled up all the time.”

The Dosh’s catlike eyes glanced sideways at him.
 
“Are you speaking as Captain, or chaplain?”
 
It was carefully spoken.

He looked the Mechanic in the eye.
 
“Whatever you need, Sap.
 
Captain, chaplain, or friend.”

The eyes blinked and looked away.
 
With a heavy sigh, Saparun leaned back beside Dillon, his head coming to rest on the bulkhead.
 
The Captain watched him, saying nothing.
 
When the Dosh spoke, his voice was deeper, quieter.
 
“I could use all of them.”

“Okay,” the Captain said gently.
 
“What’s on your mind?”

“Something I wish to discuss, though I hesitate.
 
I am concerned about something.
 
I believe you should know about it.
 
But it is… unprofessional.”

Dillon glanced outside, checking the location of the crew.
 
They were far enough away to be safely out of earshot, especially with the roar of water.
 
“If you think I should know, then I’ll listen.
 
Go on, Sap.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Patiently waiting for the Dosh to continue, Dillon looked at the wall opposite.
 
He heard the shuttle’s pilots laughing behind the cockpit door.
 
Some shared joke, no doubt at the Navy’s expense.
 
The Air Force types who crewed the Navy’s shuttles were a different breed.
 
Maybe not
breed
, he thought; that suggested a natural process of some sort.
 
More like a terrible genetic accident.
 
Some sort of chromosomal mishap that made people join the wrong branch of service.

“Captain,” Sap began.
 
“I take my trade seriously.
 
The Dosh Guild of Mechanics has very strict codes of professional conduct.”

Dillon nodded, but said nothing.

“I have done extensive testing of the site of the destroyed jump drive.
 
Very extensive testing.”

“You’ve been at it for days, Sap.
 
You’ve been thorough.”

“Captain, I do not seek compliments.
 
The testing… there is no evidence of failure.
 
The jump drive had no reason to explode when it did.
 
The long jump had been successful.
 
It was powering down.
 
It did not fail.”

Dillon wanted to blurt out his surprise, but managed not to.
 
He didn’t want to alarm anyone, least of all himself.
 
“Go on.”

Saparun turned toward him.
 
“Captain, the hull of the engine room, and the jump drive… I do not believe they exploded.
 
I believe they were torn apart.”

As this began to sink in, the Dosh quickly continued.
 
“Captain, I admit I have no compelling evidence.
 
No chemical residue.
 
No traces of abnormal radioactive decay.
 
Nothing apart from what I would expect from an exploding jump drive.”

Dillon nodded slowly.
 
The rain beating down outside made it hard to think.
 
“Okay, Sap.
 
Torn apart.
 
How?”

“I am unsure, Captain.
 
I saw the explosion happen.
 
I thought it looked like the drive deformed.
 
It happened very fast.
 
The drive stretched toward the outer hull, then burst.”
 
The Dosh began to speak more quickly.
 
“I tested the metal fatigue of the remaining drive parts.
 
There is some evidence of stretching, but it is not conclusive.
 
I need to conduct additional tests.
 
Gather additional evidence.
 
I hope to—”

“Sap,” interrupted Dillon.

“-… Yes, Captain?”

“Sap.
 
You know your business.
 
I trust you.
 
I believe you.”

Even through the pounding rain, he heard the Dosh exhale.
 
“Thank you, Captain.”

“So, if the drive didn’t do it by itself, then what?”

“Captain,” said the Mechanic, “I believe the point of origin was outside the ship.
 
Something like a highly-focused tractor beam.
 
I am not aware of anything that could generate the effect.”

“Okay,” said Dillon.
 
He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension that had suddenly built up.
 
“Run any tests you want.
 
Do any analysis you need.
 
Let me know how I can help.”