Burnt Worlds

by S. J. Madill

  She shook her head. “No, Captain. Its DNA was encoded to deteriorate after a hundred years. None of it should be alive anywhere.”

  The Captain nodded again. He watched her face, seeing the pain in her eyes. “Tell me honestly, Tassali. What, exactly, was your role in this? What part did you play in creating and deploying the weapon?”

  A moment’s confusion flashed across her eyes. “It was centuries before I was born, Captain. I have only recently uncovered the secret, and they intend to kill me for it. It was my grandparents who—”

  She trailed off as he reached up and put his hands on her shoulders. “Captain,” she said, her voice brittle. “What will you do with me?”

  Dillon stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She remained tense, her hands awkwardly at her sides, then tentatively touching his waist.

  His voice was gentle. “Tell me,” he said, “what do you need?”

  She hesitated, then slowly slid her arms around him, pulling him closer to her, gently putting her head on his shoulder. “I won't beg,” she said quietly. “You do what you must. But I have already been chased away from my home, my family. Don't chase me away again.”

  “Not a chance,” he said, holding her tighter. “I want you here.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Right here.”

  He felt her melt against him, her body trembling as her well of emotion begin to overflow. She sniffled and laughed at the same time. “I never imagined I would find such a human as you. Your acceptance — you — mean so much to me. Thank you, Captain.”

  “Hey,” he said calmly. “Is that the right way to address me, Amba?”

  Her face pressed against the gold stripes on his shoulder board, and she smiled. “Thank you, Feda.”

  -----

  Atwell leaned forward, putting both her elbows on the wardroom table. “Ma’am,” she said to the Tassali sitting opposite her, “just so I’m clear — this virus is definitely gone?”

  All eyes were on the Palani. Saparun, Cho, Lee, and Chief Black all watched her closely. The Captain, sitting at the end of the table next to the Tassali, sipped at his coffee, his eyes watching the other crewmembers.

  “Yes,” said Amba. “In the last five hundred years, there has been no sign of the bacteria or any of the eleven component viruses.”

  “That was back in our own neighbourhood,” said Atwell. “What about out here? We already know we’re a long way from home.”

  Amba nodded. “I have the data signature of one of the viruses. All Palani medical scanners look for it. I will of course provide the data.”

  “What of the other ten viruses?” asked Cho. “You said there were eleven.”

  “The other ten,” she said, “are stored only as data, in separate locations. They are considered my people's most sensitive secrets, more secret than any of our military technologies.”

  “Okay,” said Cho, turning to look at the Captain. “Sir, we’ll load the data signature and configure the sensors. We'll keep an eye out for it whenever we scan anything.”

  Dillon nodded, sipping again at his coffee; he noticed Saparun watching him. The seven people around the table all fell silent. The room was quiet except for the distant chatter of crew members and the rattling of a fan in the ceiling.

  The Tassali looked from one person to the other around the table, a hint of a frown on her face.

  “What is it, ma’am?” asked Atwell.

  She sighed. “I do not…” she looked at Saparun. “Head Mechanic, you were correct. These humans surprise me again.” She looked around the table. “My grandparents, and their generation, took part in a program that deliberately wiped out an entire civilisation, accidentally wiped out a second civilisation, killed entire planets and put all life in the galaxy at risk. They deliberately sought to hide their crime, to erase all knowledge of it. But even knowing that, you bear me no ill will.”

  Cho shrugged. “Why should we? It wasn’t you.”

  “But,” the Palani protested, “entire civilisations—”

  Cho waved his hand dismissively, pointing at Atwell. “Look, ma’am, my ancestors killed her ancestors’ people by the millions.”

  Atwell nodded. “And vice versa,” she said, glancing at Cho.

  Black shrugged. “My ancestors killed as many of Dillon’s ancestors as possible. Hell, the two sides of my family tried to kill each other.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Cho. “It’s a part of human history. We don’t hold the children responsible for the crimes of the parents.”

  Amba's voice was quiet. “We do.”

  “We can’t,” said Lee, breaking his silence. “We can’t, ma’am. We’d all be guilty. We still fight each other constantly, but it’s over things that happened last week, not a century ago. We don’t hold grudges as well as we used to.”

  The Tassali shook her head. “In my culture, a person who commits a great crime becomes unclean, less holy. They are considered tainted, and the taint is passed on.”

  “Wait,” said Atwell. “If that’s true, and your people accept collective guilt for using this weapon, wouldn’t that make all Palani tainted?”

  Amba nodded. “Yes,” she said simply.

  Black shook her head. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard…” she hesitated, glancing around the table. “Er, no disrespect, ma’am.”

  “Well,” said Atwell, “what your grandparents did doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Or me,” said Cho, as the others around the table nodded their assent.

  Amba glanced at Dillon, whose eyes were watching hers. He gave her a quick raising of an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “Okay,” he said, putting down his mug. “I’m glad to hear all our old grudges are resolved.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from quickly looking at Cho and Atwell. Forcing himself to look down at his hands, he sighed. “Because the stakes just keep getting higher and higher.”

  He listened to the quiet room for a moment, as he absently poked his fingertip into a drop of coffee on the table top. “Look,” he said, “here’s a new idea. I think the discovery of the Horlan wreckage, and the confirmation of the bioweapon in this neck of the woods, is actually good news for us.”

  The others around the table looked at him with blank and confused expressions. It was Saparun who smiled first. “It means,” said the Mechanic, “that the Horlan had a way to get back and forth from here to our own — as you say — neck of the woods.”

  Dillon nodded. “We just need to figure out what they knew.” He glanced at the ceiling above. “Which, admittedly, is still a bit of a gap.”

  Cho leaned back in his chair. “It has to do with jumping, sir, something with jump drives. I’m sure of it.” He turned to the Tassali. “Ma’am, do you know if the Horlan used jump technology?”

  “They may have,” she replied. “They were known to appear and disappear without warning. We were never able to figure out their technology. We focused on their biology instead.”

  “What about the cylinder ships?” asked Atwell. “This all started when we were testing the long jump, and one of them attacked us. I bet they’re automated.”

  “Perhaps,” offered Saparun, “our test pulled one of them into our space by accident. We were doing something new, and such things often bring unexpected consequences.”

  Cho nodded. “It takes a shot at us, then wanders off.”

  “It attacked a Palani ship,” said the Mechanic. “And then a Palani colony. It would make sense if it was programmed to respond to Palani DNA as a threat.” He paused, his green eyes looking at Dillon. “Captain, are you well?”

  All eyes looked at Dillon, who was leaning back in his chair, frowning at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said. He sat in silent thought for a few seconds. “I think we’re all on the right track. I’m just trying to figure out what it is we’re missing. And I’d like to know who the hell is going to fix that fan. It’s at it again.”

  41

  Without a sound, the Borealis
slowed from light speed and came to a stop. The stars, having appeared stretched while the ship was underway, sprung back to points of light.

  “All stop sir,” said Pakinova.

  Chief Black poked once at her console, then looked up. “Captain, we’re at the right co-ordinates.”

  Dillon looked out the windows at the empty space that surrounded them. He glanced to his left. Amba stood there, looking out the windows with him.

  “Okay,” he said to the bridge. “Who can tell us what’s missing?”

  Several hands went up. “A planet,” said Pakinova, a smile on her face.

  “That’s right,” said the Captain. “The navigation computer is insisting that we’re at the Palani homeworld.” He gestured at the emptiness beyond the bridge windows. “I beg to differ.”

  Beside him, the Tassali made a face but said nothing.

  “Sensors,” said Dillon. “Anything interesting?”

  “A lot of dark energy here, sir. Nothing else of note. Nearest star system is five light years away. It showed a lot of activity, followed by death about seven hundred years ago. Nothing else, sir.”

  “Right,” said the Captain. “The dark energy reading doesn’t match our chart, but then again the chart says there’s a star system here. Let’s map everything, then head to that system five years away. What number are we at?”

  “It will be fourteen, sir,” said the Chief. “Planet Fourteen. Can we call it something else, sir?”

  Dillon rolled his eyes. “Okay Chief, I’ll bite. What would you like to call the next planet we visit?”

  Black looked up at the ceiling, squinting as she thought. “How about ‘Bob’, sir?”

  “Planet Bob.”

  “Aye, sir. Planet Bob.”

  Dillon shook his head as the other crew members began to grin. “Planet Bob, then. But if anyone’s living there, you have to explain it to them.”

  “Great, sir. Thank you.”

  The sensor tech looked up from his terminal. “Scan complete, sir. We’ve mapped everything there is to see from here.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Set course for Planet Bob. Get us underway when you’re ready.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” said Pakinova. “Course laid, engines online. We are underway. Estimated time to Bob is six minutes.”

  The stars once again stretched into lines, their colours shifting slightly toward blue, as the Borealis accelerated beyond light speed.

  Chief Black left her terminal, walking over to the Captain’s chair. “Sir,” she said. “Permission to leave the bridge for coffee. I’ll bring you one.” She looked past Dillon, at the Tassali. “Tea, ma’am?”

  Amba smiled. “No thank you, Chief Black.”

  “Permission granted,” said Dillon. “Carry on, Chief.”

  The Tassali watched the Chief leave the bridge, and waited a few moments before leaning in toward the Captain. “The Chief has been asking me about Lieutenant Atwell’s private affairs. I said I could not divulge anything told to me in confidence. I hope it will not cause any trouble.”

  Dillon smiled. “Yeah, she was fishing around with me as well.”

  Amba looked at him.

  “Uh,” he added, “I meant, she was hoping I would volunteer to tell her something. Why, do you know what the Chief is after?”

  The Palani woman nodded. “I do.”

  Dillon smirked at that. “Great. I won’t ask what it is. But if it drives the Chief nuts, I’m in favour.”

  Amba nodded. “That seems to be a popular sentiment.” She paused a moment. “Also, I can tell you I am now at twenty-eight degrees.”

  The smirk widened. “Is that so? How do you feel?”

  She tilted her head from side to side. “I get tired very quickly. Sometimes I feel a little dizzy.”

  Dillon nodded. “You’re much better company when you’re awake.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I do not think I will get it much higher through meditation alone. Though I have avoided it, I will need to keep using the medical armband that Master Seaman Singh provided.”

  “The meds for your blood chemistry — how much do we have?”

  She smiled at him. “Head Mechanic Vish has modified the organic fabricator to produce simple medicines. This is one of them.”

  “I should give Sap a medal or something.”

  Chief Black returned to the bridge, bearing two cups of coffee. She handed one to the Captain, and returned to her post, smiling as she looked at her console. “Who’s awesome?” she said proudly. “Perfect timing. Coming out of light speed, at Planet Bob, in five seconds.”

  Dillon took a sip as he turned to look out the windows.

  The stars all sprung back to points, as a planet leapt into view in front of them. A flickering ring of grey was wrapped horizontally around the planet like a thin circle of smoke.

  “Contacts!” called the Chief. “Many contacts!”

  “Full stop!” said Dillon. Without looking, he reached down to put his coffee in the cup holder, but missed. The Tassali swiftly plucked the mug from his hand as he let it go.

  “Hundred-plus contacts sir,” said the Chief. “Now two hundred and counting.”

  The window display lit up with dozens of red targeting crosses. Dozens more popped up as a numeric readout scrolled rapidly by. The massive grey planet stopped coming closer as the ship came to a halt. Yet more clusters of angry-looking red crosses lit up the display.

  “Any of them looking at us, Chief?” asked Dillon.

  Black leaned back, taking in the frantic warnings from her terminal. “No, sir, doesn’t look like it. Current count is now… seven hundred contacts, still counting. Two main configurations: cylinders and, uh, blobs.”

  “Horlan,” said Amba.

  “Okay,” continued the Chief. “Count stops. Six hundred and nineteen cylinder ships, plus two hundred and eighty-two Horlan. All contacts, both sides, are wrecks. Looks like there isn’t a single intact ship in there, sir. Everyone kicked the shit out of everyone else. Over two hundred million bits of debris. Sensors are still counting.”

  “Understood,” said Dillon. “Confirm for me: anything moving under its own power?”

  Black shook her head. “Negative, sir. Everything is just orbiting the planet. No active power sources, as far as we can tell.”

  “The planet?”

  “It’s dead, sir. The plague was here.”

  “Plague, Chief?”

  “Sorry, sir. Lower deck is calling the Palani bioweapon ‘the plague’.”

  “Huh,” said Dillon. “Close enough. Okay, Chief. Park us here. Scan everything.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The Captain reached for his cup, and Amba handed it to him. She then walked across the bridge to look over the Chief’s shoulder.

  Black looked up at her. “Ma’am?” she said.

  “Horlan ships emit a pattern of radiation when they are alive,” she said. “I believe you call it ‘alpha’ radiation.”

  Chief Black shook her head, glancing at Dillon. “No radiation, Captain. No alpha, beta or gamma coming from any of the wrecks, sir. Ma’am.”

  The Tassali nodded. “Dead, then.”

  “Captain,” said the sensors tech. “Very extensive ruins on the surface. Huge cities, lots of infrastructure, sir. Also, scans show no dark energy here. Charts say this place should have a high concentration.”

  “Huh,” said Dillon. “Thank you, carry on.”

  The Chief looked over from her console. “Looks like this planet was a big deal for the cylinder people, sir. Enough infrastructure and urban space for billions of people, assuming human standards. And they obviously fought like hell for the place.”

  “Huh,” said Dillon again, distracted. “Important planet, huge fleet battle. But no attempt at repair or recovery.”

  Amba and the Chief both looked over at him as he watched the window display, his eyes darting back and forth. “The ships that could leave under their own power did so, and the rest were abandoned. I
’ll bet you,” he said, glancing over at the two women, “this was late in the war. In fact, I’ll bet we’re very close to the cylinder homeworld.”

  The Tassali looked out the window, as did the Chief.

  Dillon nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Chief, scan everything here. Then get us underway again, on our previous course. We’re definitely headed in the right direction.”

  -----

  Cho woke up suddenly. His cabin was dark, save for the bluish glow from the window and the stars outside, as well as the dim light from the terminal on his desk. He blinked repeatedly, until he could make out the time. 03:31. He frowned. Nothing good ever happens at three-thirty in the morning.

  He lay quietly, listening to the sounds of his cabin and the ship at night. Distant footsteps beyond his door. The occasional pop of a pipe shifting as it heated up or cooled down. The rattle of the fan somewhere in the ventilation system. Yesterday a second fan had begun to rattle somewhere, and it was exasperating the Captain to no end.

  An idea had been forming in Cho’s mind. He couldn’t get rid of it, and he certainly wasn’t going to get back to sleep until he checked it out. He rolled out of his bunk, planting his feet on the floor and standing up. He dressed, grabbed his datapad, and left his cabin.

  -----

  Lieutenant Atwell relaxed at the back of the bridge, as the night watch worked quietly at their consoles. They had music playing, which helped the quiet hours go by. Belanger, Roberts, Sharma and Schmidt had great chemistry and worked well together. So long as the coffee was plentiful, the nights were pleasant; sometimes even fun. If things began to drag, Atwell had access to a list she’d compiled, of the most obscure and absurd trivia she could find. Sharma was very good at it; currently the other three crewmembers owed her seventy-four bottles of beer.

  Everyone was startled when the comm speaker suddenly burst to life. “Tech suite to bridge.”