Burnt Worlds

by S. J. Madill

  Twenty metres to go. For fuck’s sake, Atwell, where are you? Dillon pushed himself harder for the last sprint to the shuttle’s open hatch. He was almost even with Lee’s group, and ahead of him he could see the Tassali leaning out from the edge of the hatch. In her hand was a small sidearm he’d never seen before, and she was calmly taking single shots at targets behind him.

  Lee shouted something as Dillon got near, and he could see the petty officer and two of the marines switching targets, pointing their weapons at something very close behind him. He turned to look.

  A gaping mouth filled with massive fangs was mere feet from his face; two clawed forelegs slashed down at him from above. Dillon twisted to get out of the way and keep O’Neil’s body behind him, but lost his grip as the claw raked across his chest armour. The spine-hound’s body crashed into his, and he fell to the ground beneath it.

  He lunged out, grabbing for his dropped pistol. As he wrapped his hand around its grip, vicelike pressure shoved against the front and back plates protecting his abdomen. The spine-hound’s breath was hot and reeked of rotting meat, blowing in his face as its jaws closed around his body, shoving his armour together and forcing the breath from him. Dillon felt his front plate crack, and watched wide-eyed as the animal’s upper fangs sunk into his stomach until they touched his back armour. Searing hot pain fired through him as the beast began to shake its head back and forth.

  The massive hound was twitching as dozens of slugs slammed into its body, but it kept focused on the human in its mouth. Dillon reached up and grabbed one of the spines on the creature’s head to steady himself against the violent shaking, then raised his pistol. Jamming the muzzle of the weapon into the animal’s eye, he squeezed the trigger.

  With a shrieking yelp, the hound snapped its head back, throwing the human clear. It recoiled several steps, its body continuing to shudder from the impacts of projectiles from the human weapons.

  Dillon tried to get to his feet, but was unable to draw breath. He felt hot blood flowing from his abdomen, and more spat from his mouth as he coughed weakly. Someone grabbed the back of his collar.

  His world went white. The brightness of a thousand suns flared in his eyes, and the front of his body was bathed in a flash of furnace-like heat. He brought his hand up to shield his face as the hound abruptly erupted in flames and just as quickly burned to ash. The air screamed in protest as the brilliant beam of light scoured across the ground, incinerating a group of mercenaries as it passed over them.

  There was a great pull on the collar of his armour, and he fought again to draw breath as his head lolled back. Above him was Saparun, pulling him toward the shuttle. Beyond the shuttle, in the air above, loomed the vast bulk of the Borealis, searing white beams erupting from its laser batteries. Dillon tried to speak, to say something to the Mechanic, but only made a wet gurgle as blood foamed into his mouth. He couldn’t see Saparun, but heard the Dosh’s rasping voice, telling him not to speak. More sets of unseen hands grabbed his legs, and he felt himself being lifted up into the shuttle. As his vision began to darken at the edges, he saw the ceiling of the shuttle overhead as he was laid on the deck. Marines crouched nearby, firing rapidly out the hatch as the sky lurched past outside. Lee glanced down at him, his face filled with worry.

  A new face appeared. A bone-white face, surrounded by brilliant blue hair, leaned into view as the Tassali knelt down at his side. With quick, smooth movements, she pulled off her long white gloves and tucked them into her belt. As she looked into his eyes, she rubbed her delicate hands together, whispering something in Palani; after a few moments, her palms and fingers looked wet.

  She leaned in closer. “Captain, I am going to tend to you. Can you hear me?”

  His vision was growing darker at the edges. There were other people nearby, and he could feel a great pressure lift from his stomach as the caved-in armour plate was removed and his clothing cut open. He gasped for breath, but felt like he was drowning.

  The Tassali’s breath was cool on his face, and smelled slightly of citrus. “You are going to be fine, Captain. Please relax if you can. We are on our way up to the ship, and will be there shortly. The rest of the crew are here.”

  As she spoke, Dillon felt his world drawing slowly inward. Sights and sounds began to fade from his awareness until all that remained was the face above him, the harmonic voice, and the bright blue eyes. Somewhere, far away, he felt cold fingertips on the back of his neck, feeling along his spine. As a tingling sensation began to seep through his body, coldness slid into the wounds in his abdomen, delicately probing, spreading an icy numbness that pushed the pain away.

  The white face glanced away, and the loss of its attention was upsetting. He followed the direction of the face, and saw human hands holding a datapad with a medical scan on it. After what seemed an eternity of studying the image, the white face nodded and the blue eyes looked back into his.

  Dillon realised the Tassali was speaking. “Have you ever been to my homeworld, Captain? You have seen an image of it. I think you might find it to be a pleasing place to visit. Perhaps you could tell me about Earth when you have time.”

  He felt his gasping, ragged breaths become slower and steadier, as the soft chill of a winter’s day spread outward from his neck and abdomen. The world dissolved around him, leaving only the melodic voice, the white face, and the blue eyes. That too faded from him as he sank into unconsciousness.

  15

  Dillon’s eyes fluttered open, and he found himself looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. There was a huge light fixture not far above, but it wasn’t on. The room was dimly lit from somewhere he couldn’t see.

  He blinked a few times, and realised he was uncomfortable. Everything ached with a dull, throbbing soreness. And the bed he was on was too hard. And there was tightness around his stomach. And...

  Memories began to play back in his mind. Shooting. Yelling. Teeth. O’Neil. He tried to sit up.

  Pain seared through his body. He gasped and dropped back down to the bed. His entire world throbbed with agony. Off to his right, something moved. Rolling his head to look, Dillon saw someone on an examination bed next to him, stirring awake and uncurling from the foetal position; she had been snoring. He recognised the coffee-coloured skin.

  Dillon's voice came in a croak. “Master Seaman Singh.”

  She quickly pushed herself to a sitting position. She looked dishevelled and exhausted, and her fumbling hands rubbed at her swollen red eyes. “Captain, sir. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  He swallowed, which hurt, then tried his voice again. “I feel like shit.”

  The medic picked up the med scanner next to her and poked at the screen, pointing the device at him. A brief flicker of light passed over his body, and he felt a tingling sensation. She poked at the screen again. “Everything’s okay, sir. Do you need more painkillers?”

  The pain from moving still throbbed through him, making his teeth ache. “Yes, please. A lot.” His hands went down to his abdomen, feeling tentatively at the wide composite bandage that was wrapped around his midsection. “How’s the crew? Where’s the ship?” He gulped in a breath, wincing as he breathed too deeply. “What happened?”

  “Well sir,” she began, “the ship is fine; Lieutenant Atwell is in command, and the ship is headed to Iralan. We’re still several days away.” She hesitated a moment, then continued, her voice quiet. “We lost O’Neil. I’m sorry, sir. There was nothing anyone could have done. Everyone else is okay. Nothing life-threatening. According to Petty Officer Lee, the Tassali saved your life. You were in the shuttle bleeding out as fast as you could. She stuck her hand in the hole and the bleeding stopped.”

  Dillon lifted his head off the pillow, tilting it so he could look at the medic right side up. “She what?”

  Singh nodded. “I kid you not, sir. Lee and Graham carried you in here, which opened things back up, and right in front of me she did it again. She held her other hand under your neck and talked to you, which seemed t
o calm you down. She stayed here and kept at it while I tried my hand at surgery. Just reached in and held her fingers against anything leaking, and the bleeding stopped. Must have coagulants coming out of her fingers or something. Biologically compatible with humans, somehow.” The medic shrugged limply. “I have no idea, sir. This is all beyond my skill level.”

  “I’m here, so it must’ve worked. Thank you, Singh. I mean it.”

  Her smile was weary. “Sir, you should really thank the doctors back on New Halifax. They were online and talked me through it. And Chief Black for two units of B-positive. And the Tassali.”

  “I will, Singh. But right now I’m thanking you.”

  She smiled a bit wider. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “So, did we get the supplies?”

  “Yes, sir. After we fried the mercenaries, we stayed over the settlement. The locals didn't give us any more trouble. They stayed out of sight while we collected everything.”

  “Good news,” said Dillon. He tried to shift his position, but winced as pain sliced through him again.

  “Sir,” said Singh, “would it be any use for me to ask you to lie still for a few days?”

  “Not really. Help me up?”

  “How about if I ordered you, sir? I can do that, right?”

  Dillon frowned. “Yeah. But a few days? C’mon, Singh.”

  “At least one day, sir. There’s an infection from the dog drool, and I’m concerned about internal scarring.”

  “Scars will make me look rugged.”

  “No, sir. Twenty-four hours.”

  The Captain sighed and let his head fall back on the hard pillow. “Okay, okay. You win. You and the dog drool. Can I at least have a datapad?”

  The medic nodded wearily. “Thank you, sir. I’ll get you a datapad, but you’ll have to be quiet. I’m going back to sleep.”

  Dillon looked at the examination bed she was sitting on. “What, here? These things are padded with cement.”

  She just shrugged. “This is where the patient is, sir.”

  -----

  “Head Mechanic, sir? There might be a leak somewhere.”

  Able Seaman Anderson, one of the Borealis’ new apprentice Mechanics, was looking at a warning message on the engine room console. He tapped at the display with a knuckle.

  Saparun looked over from the fabricator. “Why are you tapping on the display, apprentice?”

  Anderson shrugged. “It's tradition, sir.”

  The Dosh nodded and returned his attention to the fabricator. He waited while it worked, his right hand absently poking at the bandage on his left hand. When the fabricator beeped, he reached in and pulled a newly-made part from the machine. Giving the new plasma shaper a quick inspection, he set it down on the workbench at the end of a neat row of identical parts. “Fourteen,” he said, mostly to himself. Brushing fine fabricator dust from his red coat, he walked over to where Anderson was standing.

  “Cold water, sir,” said the apprentice, pointing to the highlighted display window. “Enough for someone leaving the tap on full-tilt. Comes and goes.”

  The Dosh looked sideways at the human. “Full tilt?”

  “I mean, fully open. Sorry, sir.”

  “No need to apologise. Yes, that is a lot of water being used for this time of day.” He slid a red-skinned finger across the display, tapping at different commands. “Ah. No need. We should let this pass.” He started poking at his bandaged hand again.

  Anderson read the output in front of him. “The Tassali’s cabin? She’s been running the shower on cold for ten minutes, it says. Five times, with long breaks in between.”

  “Good,” said Saparun. “If this is the fifth time, she’s nearly done. And we should not speak of this.”

  The apprentice looked suspicious. “Sir? I don’t follow. Someone ought to mention—”

  The Dosh held up a finger. “No, Seaman Anderson, we ought not to mention. The Tassali is finishing a ritual of cleansing.”

  “Ritual?”

  Tapping the console again, the display window closed. The Mechanic’s voice was soft and smooth. “Apprentice, I have seen Palani temple commandoes. I have been chased by them. I have never been so frightened as I was then. They exist to give and take life in the name of their Divines. They are not to be trifled with.”

  Saparun paused a moment, looking toward the far end of the engine room. He looked back at Anderson. “The Tassali are not just priests among the Palani, they are… revered. Clean. Holy. Unlike other Palani, a Tassali must not touch any unclean creature. Doing so makes them less holy. The ritual cleansing…,” he pointed at the readout, “...negates the unclean touch.”

  Anderson frowned. “They give and take… wait, so we’re ‘unclean’ to them?”

  Saparun nodded. “Indeed. All non-Palani are unclean. Like animals. Who must not touch a holy Tassali.”

  “They’re comparing humans to animals? What about your people? Are the Dosh also unclean?”

  The Mechanic nodded again. “We are. But we are not insulted. Instead, we find it amusing. A suicidally-brave Dosh ambassador once won trade concessions from a Palani delegation by repeatedly touching their Tassali, who had to leave to clean himself. They were furious.”

  The young human shook his head. “Your people are… I don’t know…odd, sometimes. Sir.”

  The Dosh’s voice was a soft murmur, barely heard above the sounds of the machinery. “I take that as a compliment. Thank you. To understand the Dosh, apprentice, is to know that we draw a sharp line. Between things we take seriously and things we do not.”

  “And other cultures’ religions…”

  A rueful smile. “We tried. But we cannot.”

  “So why aren’t you messing with her?”

  “No, apprentice. I will not provoke the Tassali. I am not that brave. Besides, humans respect the Palani ways, and this is a human ship. I will not interfere.” He smiled. “Much as I wish to.”

  “But the Chief is fair game?”

  The smile widened. “So… you saw what I did yesterday. Observant. However, that is a different matter. As I said, this is a human ship. Also, she started it.”

  Anderson returned the smile. “I begin to understand, sir. Trust me, I won’t say a word.”

  “Very good, apprentice. To work. Apprentice Stewart will soon return from her break. When she does, we three unclean animals will begin to install the plasma shapers. By the time we are done all two hundred and nine, we will be very good at installing them.”

  16

  Tassali Yenaara sat at the small desk in her cabin, leaning forward, her elbow on the desk and her bare arm propping up her head. Long, wet hair hung limply over her shoulders. Her half-open eyes were rimmed with blue.

  On the desk in front of her, lying open on a small blue cloth, was her Erwa, her copy of the Palani sacred text. The book, made of hand-lettered ink on plant-fibre pages, had belonged to the Yenaara family for two thousand years. It had been created long before the Burning, before the genetic engineering; back when a Tassali’s only special abilities were those of training and conviction.

  Her frustration had been slowly growing, and she was relieved when the door alarm chirped at her. She silently closed the book, and glanced at the console to see who it was. Surprised, she tapped the button to allow entry.

  She leaned back in the chair, willing herself to feel awake, concentrating on her posture and her expression. As the airlock hissed its way through its cycle, she looked over at the bed where her tiara and gloves lay. She realised she was only wearing a loose floor-length robe. She sighed, but didn’t get up.

  The inner door opened, and Chief Black stepped in. She took one look at the Tassali, and her eyes went wide. Clumsily pivoting on one boot, she turned around to face the door. “Ma’am, I apologise, I didn’t—”

  “It is not a concern,” came the Palani’s harmonic voice. “The hour is late, and I am fatigued, but you are still welcome. Are you well? You should rest after giving so much bloo
d.”

  The human woman slowly turned around, and gave a weak smile when the Tassali nodded to the cabin’s other chair.

  Chief Black, pale-faced and unsteady on her feet, quickly dropped herself onto the seat. “Thank you, ma’am. The computer said that your cabin was up to sixteen degrees. I wanted to make sure we arranged for it to be fixed.”

  The Palani gave a faint smile. “Thank you, Chief Black. I have been moving the temperature higher over the past few days, to acclimatise myself closer to the ship’s temperature.”

  “Oh? Well then...” The human hesitated.

  “But,” said the Tassali, “that is not why you are here.”

  “Well, no, ma’am. I probably shouldn’t be here. This is breaking a whole pile of regs. But I wanted to say thanks.”

  “Then we will not tell anyone about this visit. And you are most welcome.” She paused. “What are you thanking me about?”

  The Chief stared at the white-skinned woman. “You saved the Captain’s life, ma’am. I owe you for that. We all do.”

  “No,” said the Palani. “You do not need to thank me for that. No one thanks you for steering the ship or supervising the crew. No one thanks a bird for flying. We each do what we are meant to do.”

  The human woman shook her head. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t agree. You saved a life, and that’s a big deal.”

  “I saved one out of the two that needed saving. It is not an enviable record.”

  “Ma’am,” said the Chief with a smirk, “You’re a bit stubborn, you know that? You saved Dillon’s life, and I’m going to be thankful whether you like it or not.”

  “Ah. I consider myself chastised. And I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Yes. Thank you, ma’am.”

  The Tassali blinked slowly, her eyes studying the human woman’s face. “So. He is not just your Captain.”