Burnt Worlds

by S. J. Madill

  As the humans say, ‘so much for that’. I keep forgetting. No home to go to.

  She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees and putting her head down on her arms. Being right, she thought, was expensive. And, were it not for a few aliens, lonely.

  27

  Chief Black slowly climbed the ladder up to the top deck, yawning loudly as she reached the top. Eyes half open, she plodded along the corridor, past the wardroom, toward the hatchway to the bridge. She scratched the back of her head while trying to sip at her coffee. Half the crew has given the Dosh their coffee rations; good for them. But this is mine. All mine.

  As she stepped carefully through the hatch, the Captain looked up from his datapad. The pen in his mouth twitched as he smiled. “Good morning, Chief.”

  Smoothly transferring the mug to her left hand, she offered a decent facsimile of a salute. “Good morning, sir. You’re up early; our watch doesn’t start for another half hour.”

  “Yeah,” he said, trying to stifle a yawn of his own. “Couldn’t sleep. Been thinking about Planet One.”

  “Yes sir,” replied Black, taking another sip. “PO Lee told me something wasn’t right with the place. Didn’t have any details.”

  Dillon waved his hand at the console attached to his chair. “Cho spots the place from a thousand light years away, we see all kinds of lovely organic stuff in the atmosphere. We start heading that way, get a bit closer, and now we see the organic stuff is all gone. Atwell backed us up a few times, so we could watch the transition. Long story short, about seven hundred and fifty years ago – about the same time the Palani empire was attacked – Planet One got wrecked by something. Gamma ray bursts, atmosphere fills with metals and radioactives, then the organic material disappears. Then, over a couple hundred years, the atmosphere clears up. Now it’s just nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide. Dead as pork.”

  Black raised her eyebrows. “Hey, don’t look at me, sir. I wasn’t anywhere near the place.” She scratched at the back of her head again. “So are we still going to stop there?”

  The Captain nodded, glancing out the bridge windows. “We are. What the hell, we’re in the neighbourhood. Maybe we’ll find out what happened to the place, maybe find something interesting. Then we’ll head to Cho’s ‘Planet Two’ and hope for better luck.”

  Chief Black nodded, quietly sipping at her coffee as she stepped closer to the Captain’s chair. She spoke quietly, barely audible over the sounds of the bridge. “How’re you doing?”

  Dillon made a face. “Not bad, I suppose. Had a cold shower this morning, it seemed to perk me up.”

  Black grunted. “As if we have a choice.”

  Confusion crossed the Captain’s face. “Huh?”

  The Chief gestured with her half-empty mug. “The shower, sir. You had a cold shower, as if you had a choice.”

  The confusion remained. “I don’t get it. I do have a choice. Yesterday I had a hot shower, today I had a cold shower.”

  Black stared at the Captain.

  He mimicked a twisting motion with his right hand. “It’s quite easy, Chief. Twist to the left for hot water, twist to the right for cold.” He smirked sideways at her. “Maybe you should take a refresher on how to use the head. I don’t want you to have some sort of toilet-seat mishap. Are you okay with light switches?”

  The Chief stared at him, carefully watching his face. “You have hot water in your shower,” she said slowly.

  Dillon made another twisting motion. “Yes, Chief. To the left. Try it.”

  Black put down her mug, and came to stand directly in front of the Captain. “Sir. There’s been no hot water on the lower decks for ages. There was that ship-wide note about it from Engineering.”

  The Captain shook his head. “Didn’t get it, Chief. My shower’s fine.” He turned toward the rest of the bridge crew at their consoles. “Excuse me,” he said, loud enough for the compartment to hear. “Who here has hot water in their berth section?”

  All activity suddenly ceased. The members of the bridge crew looked from the Captain to the Chief and back, then one by one they all raised their hands. The sensor tech was grinning.

  Dillon smiled. “Thank you, that is all.” He looked at Black.

  She was rolling her eyes. “The ship-wide note from Engineering that only I got.”

  “Might want to get that checked, Chief.”

  Black nodded. “Sir, I request permission to space an alien crewmember.”

  “Denied. Far too early in the day for that. Besides, we might need him.”

  The Chief sighed heavily. “Sir, then I request permission to threaten to space an alien crewmember.”

  “Fine with me. Carry on, Chief.”

  -----

  “Orbit stable, Captain. Scanning now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dillon sat quietly in his chair, one leg over the other, looking intently out the bridge window.

  The view was filled by Planet One, with its grey-brown continents and deep blue oceans swept by delicate white clouds. He could make out mountain ranges, rivers, and deserts, but no sign of green. Thin lines crisscrossed the land, the remains of a transport network. Everywhere lines met – where cities must once have been – clusters of small circular craters scarred the landscape. Plumes of smoke and ash from active volcanoes smeared across the landscape, dirtying the clouds where they touched.

  The Borealis was occasionally lit by brief flashes of white light, momentarily brightening the bridge. The secondary weapons had begun to fire low-power pulses, vaporising small bits of high-speed debris that came too near the ship.

  “A lot of orbiting stuff here, sir,” said the sensor tech. “Millions of pieces, everything from tiny grains up to the size of houses. I’m guessing there used to be a network of satellites, probably an orbiting station, maybe ships. Keeping an eye out for anything interesting.”

  “Thank you,” said Dillon. He looked at the Chief, who sat at the rear console. “Surface?”

  Chief Black made a face at the console, but didn’t look up. “Remains of infrastructure, but no population centres. Looks like every city got flattened, either by nukes or mass drivers or something. I don’t see any life anywhere, sir. Not even a microbe. Unless everything’s deep underground, the planet is dead. Magnetic field is a mess. No way we'd be able to keep comms open with anyone down there.”

  The Captain shook his head. “There must be something. I want to go down and look around anyway. Is the air breathable?”

  Black shot him a dark look, but quickly replaced it with one of detachment. “Twenty-two percent oxygen, the rest is nitrogen, some carbon dioxide… so yes, breathable. But I would advise sealed suits until we actually take samples and analyse them. And I like said, no comms with the surface. Sir.”

  Dillon hadn’t looked away from the planet outside the window. “Yeah. Okay, someone get Cho up early, so he can stand watch. Sensors, where can we land?”

  The sensor technician looked up from her console. “I’ve found somewhere interesting, sir. Looks like a landing pad and small structures, inside a crater.”

  “Oh? Inside a crater? So someone came back after the bombardment. That’s interesting.” He grabbed his pen, and began to tap it on the arm of his chair. “Yeah... okay, we’ll land there.” His eyes darted from the window to the Chief and back again. “Chief, ask the Air Force if they had any plans for today. Also Head Mechanic Vish… and… and PO Lee with an armed team.” The Chief was watching him, frowning at the slight stumble in his words. “I’m going to suit up,” he continued, “bridge is yours.” The Captain got up from his chair, heading for the bridge hatch.

  -----

  Dillon winced as he pulled, yanking the under-armour bodysuit over his legs. He paused to catch his breath as his door console chirped. “Who’s there?” he asked.

  The console chirped again. “It’s me,” came the familiar voice of the Chief.

  “Open,” he said, leaning back in the chair.

 
; Chief Black stepped into the room, a tight smile on her face. She calmly waited for the door to close again.

  As soon as the latch clicked, the smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “With all due respect, sir, what the fuck are you doing?”

  Dillon blinked. He pointed down at his legs. “Putting on my underarmour. And I can’t say I much care for your tone of voice, Chief. I would ask what the matter is, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to hear all about it.”

  She stepped forward, putting her hands on her hips. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t keep going on these surface missions. There are two other officers who can do the job. You need to delegate.”

  The Captain frowned. “What’s wrong with me, Chief? There’s nothing down there but dirt. There’s nothing to worry—”

  “Nothing to worry about?” she shouted, pointing at him. “You almost died last time! Damn it Dillon, you can’t keep—”

  He leapt to his feet, his face red. “You’re not going to keep me prisoner just because… look, you think I don’t know that things went wrong last time?” He held his hands in front of his face, as if cradling someone’s head. “O’Neil was… her head just—”

  “Don’t start!” she yelled. “That wasn’t your fault. I told you that wasn’t your fault! I told you not to dwell on it!”

  He threw up his hands. “I’m not dwelling on it! I was responsible! I took her down there, she died! Just like Iralan! I made the call, and seventy thousand Palani died!”

  Black took a step back, shaking her head. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself for that too—”

  “You’re damn right I am!” he roared. He began jabbing his finger against his chest. “I made the decisions, and people died!”

  Black rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake… you didn’t know it would turn out like that… and you don’t know if maybe it would’ve ended differently—”

  He stepped closer to the Chief. “Maybe O’Neil would’ve lived if I’d done something different. Maybe the Palani colony could’ve been saved if I’d done something different. But ‘maybe’ doesn’t bring any of them back! ‘Maybe’ won’t be enough to comfort O’Neil’s family, or explain to the Palani why innocent pilgrims were massacred while we just screwed around out of position. I’m responsible. It’s on my head!”

  “Yes!” yelled the Chief. She paused, then suddenly seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping. She lowered her voice. “Yes. Yes. You are responsible. It sucks, but you’re the one with the stripes on your shoulders, and that’s the way it goes.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “But you’re also responsible for the people who are still alive. And they’ve been through a lot. They need someone who will be here, someone who will get them home again.”

  The tension began to drain from Dillon. His fists unclenched, his jaw relaxed, and the red left his face. He suddenly began to look very tired. “Fuck,” he said calmly. Their eyes met for a moment, then he looked away. “Okay, fine, whatever. I'll send Cho, and monitor from the bridge.”

  “No ship-to-surface comms to monitor,” said the Chief. “The magnetic field is a mess, remember? There won't be anything to do but wait. Let Atwell take the bridge. Relax. Let them do their jobs.”

  Dillon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. You win. Just leave me alone for a while.”

  The Chief breathed in, as if to speak, then held it. Nodding once, she turned and left the cabin.

  28

  The shuttle ride down was remarkably smooth. A gentle rocking set the suited occupants to swaying in unison. Out the small window, greasy brown clouds slid by. A feeble ray of dirty sunlight bled into the cabin’s thin air.

  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.”<
br />
  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.”