by S. J. Madill
The Chief’s eyes widened, and she sputtered. “What? No ma’am. I mean, yes. I mean... well… sort of.” She sighed and shrugged. “He’s a good friend. We grew up on the same street in Sackville. I was best friends with his oldest sister. He joined the Navy after me. Because of me, I think.”
“And yet he is an officer and you are not.”
“Yes ma’am. He got the marks in school, I didn’t. He was always a quiet kid. Smart, though. Brave, too: took on bullies twice his size. Looked out for the other kids.”
“What about his family?”
“His parents are both gone. One sister's in the army somewhere, the other one married a Swedish guy and moved to New Stockholm a few years back. I don't think he's heard from her since. It’s just him. Anyway, I’m just saying, ma’am, he’s good people.”
“As, I suspect, are you. I understand, Chief Black.” She thought for a moment, her blue eyes studying the Chief’s face. “Tell me, Chief Black, do you trust him?”
The Chief didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely, ma’am. With my life.”
The Tassali relaxed at that. “Thank you, Chief Black, for telling me this.”
Black looked at the Tassali, a look of concern on her face. “Ma’am, healing the Captain like that… it took a lot out of you, didn’t it?”
The Palani nodded, saying nothing but not looking away.
Black hesitated, then forged ahead. “Ma’am, may I ask something? People like yourself, with the Tassali genetics… do they get to choose… to do this? Their life?”
The white-skinned woman shook her head. “They do not.”
“Would you have chosen—”
The Tassali interrupted, looking down at her hands. “How could I not? Imagine being born with the ability to save lives. How selfish would a person have to be to never use it? Regardless of what life they might have chosen for themselves.”
“Still,” said the human, struggling for words, “it seems unfair.”
Blue eyes met green. “Fairness was never discussed, Chief Black.”
The Chief suddenly blushed, bringing her hands up in front of her. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, I just realised I’m being incredibly rude. I should—”
“My people believe we are better than animals because we know compassion. To know compassion without using it? We would still be animals.”
Black’s blush faded, her head slightly cocked. “So where do humans fit in, ma’am? Animals, or better than that?”
The Tassali looked away. “A millennium ago, the Pentarch decided that humans are among the animals.”
“But what about you, ma’am? What do you think?”
She sat quietly, looking back at the Chief. “I am thinking that a millennium is a very long time.”
“You don’t agree?”
The voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “That would be… as you said… ‘against regs’.”
Chief Black was still for a moment, watching the Tassali. She blinked, looked down, and began to rise unsteadily from her seat. “I’m sorry ma’am, you’re exhausted. I should let you rest.”
The Palani nodded. “As are you, Chief Black. You are nearly as pale as I. Will you please come speak to me again, when it is not so late? I wish to know more about you.”
The human woman stopped in mid-step, looking at the white-skinned alien. “Me, ma’am? Thank you, yes… I’d like that.”
Tassali Yenaara gave a tired nod. “Good night to you, Chief Black.”
17
Saparun smiled at the galley mate, happily showing his rows of fine teeth. With barely-controlled desire in his eyes, he reached down to the counter and gently picked up the mug with his two red hands. He held it close to his chest, capturing the aroma-filled steam that came off it, and walked carefully from the wardroom. Checking to make sure the passageway was clear, he walked the short distance to the bridge hatch. One foot at a time, he kept his eyes focused on the mug he clutched. He stepped through the hatch and onto the bridge, proudly approaching the Captain’s chair. With a beaming, serrated grin, he held out the mug. “Captain. You are back where you belong. I bring a gift.”
Dillon, bundled up in a heavy sweater, looked up from his datapad. His skin was pale, his eyes were dark. He smiled and reached out to accept the mug. “Thank you, Sap,” he said quietly. “You’re very kind.”
The Mechanic nodded approvingly as the Captain smelled the coffee and sipped at it. “You are welcome, Captain. May I make a brief report?”
“Of course you may, Sap,” said the Captain, sighing as the coffee began to warm him up. “You don’t need to ask.”
“Thank you, Captain. I feel compelled to report that what we’re doing violates numerous Dosh safety, quality and procedural standards. A hundred violations at least. So far.”
Dillon raised an eyebrow. “That sounds serious.”
Saparun’s smile faded. “I confess I am conflicted, Captain. I am showing the apprentices how to repair the most complicated technology in the galaxy, using replicated and repurposed parts of unknown quality. It is wildly ill-advised.”
“Your bad influence on the crew is noted.”
“Captain, what we are doing is an affront to everything the Guild of Mechanics stands for. I should be ejected from the Guild and forced into exile. We take our craft very seriously.”
“I know you do, Sap. I signed your orders for this. I want your bosses to know this is my idea. I’m responsible.”
“Yes, Captain. Still, I am uneasy. Terrified.” A grin crept onto the red-and-yellow face. “And completely exhilarated. It is liberating.”
Dillon shifted in his chair, wincing as he moved. “Glad to help.”
A voice came from behind the communications console. “Captain! Comm request from Commodore Sinclair.”
The Captain began to push himself upright with one hand, his mug of coffee shaking in the other. Saparun took the drink from him and helped him to his feet. “Comms,” gasped Dillon, steadying himself on the chair, “I’ll take it in my cabin. In a few minutes, at this speed.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Dillon managed a grin as the Dosh helped him walk off the bridge. “The boss is calling,” he said to himself. “Everyone look busy.”
-----
The door closed as Saparun left the cabin, leaving the Captain alone. Dillon breathed deeply and deliberately, waiting out the throbbing pain as it slowly eased. When he was at last able to sit comfortably, he tapped the projector terminal.
An angry-looking warning popped up, advising him of the unsecure channel being used. Tapping the terminal again cleared the warning, and the emitter started its high-pitched whine. The image of the Commodore quivered into view.
“Lieutenant-Commander Dillon to Commodore Sinclair. Are you receiving, sir?”
The image of the Commodore nodded, concern on her face. “I am, Commander. The last I heard from the Borealis was a quick report from Lieutenant Atwell, then I got a long note from two fleet surgeons. You’ve had a busy few days. How are you, Dillon?”
“A bit rough, sir, but I’m here. At some point I’d like to discuss Master Seaman Singh’s next performance review.”
The senior officer smiled. “Good. I imagine you would. Apparently she impressed the fleet surgeons who were working with her. And she had an assistant, I hear?”
“Yes, sir. The Tassali kept me from leaking too much. A neat trick.”
“Indeed. I won’t belabour the fact that the Tassali choosing to help you is a very big deal.”
“Yes, sir. I’d also mention that she’s a decent shot, and knows her way around scummy backwater planets near the Burnt Worlds. “
The Commodore raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. I can’t say the rest on an unsecure channel, but there’s a lot more to her than just being the chaplain on a diplomatic ship. There’s a reason that her people are so interested in getting her back.”
“Well, Commander, I’m curious. No offence to our Dosh friends lis
tening in, but put the details in an encrypted file and send it to me. I’ll take a look and get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send it shortly.”
“In the meantime, Commander, use your own judgement. Whatever happens, go ahead and deal with it. I’ll back you up.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Anyway, glad you’re on the mend. Atwell’s good, but having cruisers run by lieutenants is frowned upon. Complicates the payroll.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Okay,” said the Commodore. “Again, this is an unsecure channel, so I can’t entirely tell you what I need to tell you. I want you to check out a particular file from the ship’s secure archive.” She tapped at an unseen console, and a long file number popped up on Dillon’s display. “Give this a quick look. I’ve asked for it to be put on hold, based on your recent experiences. But there are politics involved, way above my pay grade. It seemed prudent to mention it to you. The fleet science arm thinks it might give you ideas.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll give it a look right away.”
She nodded. “Good. Atwell gave me your current supply situation. She’s very good, isn't she? It seems like everything’s in hand. Get the Tassali back to her people, and the Palani just might be impressed with us for once.”
“Miracles do happen, sir.”
“We can dream. Keep me apprised. And quit getting eaten by things, if you can help it. Sinclair out.”
The image abruptly disappeared, leaving Dillon alone in the cabin. He allowed himself to relax for a moment, letting his eyes fall closed.
When he opened them again, the console’s clock had jumped ahead by an hour. He reached for his coffee, which had gone cold. “Damn it,” he muttered. He drank it anyway.
The Commodore’s long file number was still showing across the bottom of his console’s display. He tapped it, and then tapped several more times to get through the security warnings. At last, the file opened in front of him.
-----
“It’s called Project Fulcrum,” said Dillon. “I've decided you all need to know about it.”
Cho, a sleepy Atwell, and the Head Mechanic stood around the Captain’s desk in his cabin. The projector showed the image of two interlocking, rotating rings, forming a sphere.
“A massive, permanent long-jump generator. It will create a permanent jump point to another such generator somewhere else. Any ship could use it just by sailing into it.”
Cho nodded, flashing a wide smile. “A jump gate. Straight out of a movie. I’ve read about the theory.”
“Yeah,” agreed the Captain. “And we’re building one. Well, when I say ‘we’, it’s only a few of the human nations. Canada, America, India, Britain, a few others. With a lot of technical help from the Dosh. Everyone else knows we’re doing some research, but not much more than that.”
Lieutenant Atwell raised a hand. “Where is it, sir?”
Dillon dragged a finger across his console, revealing a map of the human systems. “Here. Less than ten light years from Earth, and close to the major colonies. It’s being built on the largest dark-energy concentration in this part of the Arm. The concentration’s so big that it’ll cut the power requirements by a third.”
“How are they powering it?” asked Cho. “I’ve seen the theoretical energy requirements…”
Atwell looked sideways at Cho, rolling her eyes but saying nothing.
“Well,” said the Captain, “they’re using the power plant that was supposed to go in the second British dreadnought, the Hawke. The one they cancelled.”
Saparun leaned forward, studying the image in the projector. “A much better use of resources. Where is the other end?”
“They’ve built a temporary one of these things about a light-year away from it, so they can do some testing. And the Dosh have recently started construction of the permanent ‘other end’, located close to Dosh Horrin.”
The Mechanic's forehead ridges twitched. “Placing our home worlds a day’s travel apart. That will revolutionise trade and interaction between us.”
“Yeah,” said Dillon. “Except for the problem we seem to be having: ships making long jumps are getting blown up. “
Atwell looked at the other faces in the room. “Sir, it seems unlikely that all this would be a coincidence.” She paused, then continued, “Does anyone else have a bad feeling about this, or is it just me?”
18
Dillon set the datapad down onto the shelf next to the Captain’s chair. He rubbed at his eyes and leaned back against the seat, watching the navigation display that hovered in front of the bridge windows. Closing his eyes for a moment, he toyed with the idea of dozing, but the dull, regular throb of pain from his abdomen distracted him. His mind nudged him back toward wakefulness with thoughts of his stubborn infection and a list of worst-case medical scenarios. Four days now, and the xenobiotics still hadn’t got a handle on the bacteria from — as Singh had put it — the ‘doggie drool’.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Tassali standing next to the bridge window, silently looking out at the expanse of stars ahead of them. She had asked to be allowed on the bridge as they sailed through the Burnt Worlds, and over the past couple days she had spent hours at a time standing in the same spot, watching the navigational display or looking out the window, barely saying a word.
On the overlaid display, a label sprouted from a dot they had just passed, showing the name of the star system it represented.
“Aruhal,” she said suddenly. Dillon turned his head to look at her.
“My family’s ancestral home was there, seven hundred years ago. It had been made to be just like the homeworld. Prettier, some said.”
Dillon said nothing. He just watched the Palani woman as she looked out the window.
“Four billion people,” she said quietly. The white face turned to face him, the cobalt eyes seeking his. “We know their names, Captain. We know all their names.” She looked back out the window. “All our people, on all our worlds, who died during the Burning. Over one trillion names. We know them all.” The Tassali faced the window. “The graveyard of our civilisation.”
“But I thought your people won,” said the Captain. “So it wasn’t in vain.”
“Wasn’t it?” she asked, barely a whisper. “Out of three thousand worlds, only five remain. Our bloodlines are forever altered by genetic engineering. Our civilisation, our place in the galaxy, taken from us. Sometimes I wonder.”
“They saved the galaxy,” said Dillon.
She looked back into his eyes. “We never really 'won'. There was no final battle, no heroic last stand. The enemy just… left. We never found their homeworld. We never even knew what they were called. We called them Horlan. A name from our mythology: the corruption who waits at the end of time.” She was quiet for a moment. “All we can do is honour the lost”
The bridge had grown quiet. The crew worked silently, not taking their eyes from their consoles. Chief Black leaned against the counter at the back of the bridge, arms folded across her chest, eyes looking from the Captain to the Tassali and back again.
Dillon’s voice was gentle. “How do you honour them?”
The Palani’s blue eyes studied his. “A person is not truly dead until they are forgotten. So, we remember them. Seven centuries now, and we have not forgotten.” She suddenly turned away. “Please excuse me, Captain.”
Acknowledging the brief nod from the Captain, she walked briskly from the bridge. Dillon could see the crew trade glances, as they started to speak quietly amongst themselves.
Chief Black appeared by the Captain’s chair. She leaned against the bridge window and faced him, murmuring quietly. “You know, sir, morale’s tricky enough as it is.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m trying to imagine,” she said laconically, “a whole planet of Palani. Oh, the fun they must have.”
Dillon shot her a nasty look, which quickly dissolved
into a grin. “Chief, you’re a bad person.”
“True, sir. But who’d you rather watch the game with?”
“Yeah, fair enough. Speaking of which, see if you can put the comms together to show a live game from home. Playoffs start tonight, right?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe a friendly wager among the mess decks.” She shrugged “Or unfriendly. I’m not picky.”
“Are the Royals in the first round? I could contact Regina. You know, say rude things to Commander Sanchez about their namesake city.”
“Now, sir. What have I told you about taunting the savages…”
-----
An hour later, Dillon stepped carefully through the bridge hatch into the passageway, his hand pushing against the wall as he walked. He stopped outside his cabin, and silently tapped the console button to open the door. As the door slid open, he stared further down the passageway, then tapped the button again. The door shut as he continued walking along the hallway, passing several other cabin doors before stopping at the end. He pressed a button on the console, which chirped at him. “It’s the Captain,” he said to the console.
After a moment’s hesitation the door opened, and he stepped into the airlock. Leaning against the side of the tiny compartment, he waited for the airlock to cycle, shivering as a burst of cool air blew on him. It wasn’t nearly as cold as before.
The inner door opened. At the room’s small desk sat the Tassali, one leg over the other and her hands in her lap. She wore a loose white robe with her tiara and gloves, and her hair was neatly gathered over one shoulder. Brilliant blue eyes looked up at him, and she smiled as he pushed off from the wall and stepped into the cabin.
“Captain,” she said, her voice a melody. “I am happy to see you. Please sit. I know you are not well.”
He offered a tight smile as he lowered himself into the other chair, facing her. He forced himself not to wince at the sharp dart of pain. “Thank you, Tassali. I just wanted to come by and, well…,” he trailed off, distracted.
