Authors: S.J. Madill
Coming to the elevator, she stepped inside and pressed the button for the middle deck.
She felt a sudden interest in visiting the engine room, to see the Dosh.
She had met a few of them before, and felt she understood them.
They were lacking in shame and modesty, and though their morals often conflicted with her own, they were nonetheless civilised.
They were familiar.
Exiting the elevator onto the middle deck, she started straight ahead for the engine room, but stopped.
To her right, around the corner, came the sounds of excited conversation from the lower ranks’ eating area.
The Captain and now the Chief had made her begin to re-evaluate her perception of humans, and she found herself curious.
She quietly walked toward the messdeck.
Five humans were sitting along a bench-like table, smiling and laughing at something one of them had said.
One of the others, a female with her back to the door, was excitedly waving at her colleagues.
“I bet the ice queen’s a total freak.”
One of her friends suddenly spotted the Tassali and began to react in horror, but the woman continued.
“Yeah, all the Palani, I bet they’re into the weirdest shit imaginable—”
“Captain and Chief to the junior ranks messdeck.
Urgent.”
Dillon launched himself from his chair in the wardroom, awkwardly shoving the table as he began to move.
He made the wardroom door just as Chief Black sped past.
“What’s—”
“No idea, sir.”
As he turned into the passageway, she had reached the top of the ladder.
Grabbing the handrails, she leapt down through the hatch.
Dillon struggled to keep up with her, slowing on the ladder as he momentarily lost his balance.
He landed hard on the deck below, a few steps behind the Chief.
The two of them thundered down the passageway.
Ahead, the junior messdeck was strangely quiet.
As they skidded in through the doorway, his heart sank.
Five crewmembers were standing around a table, looking guilty.
They came smartly to attention when they saw him.
“Sir,” a woman began, her face tense.
“it was me.
I was shooting my mouth off like an idiot.
The Tassali heard me, she—”
The Chief interrupted her.
“Damn it, Stoneman!
Cut to the chase: your exact words.”
Seaman Stoneman closed her eyes, her face turning red.
“'Ice queen', sir.
And that the Palani were into 'weird shit', sir.”
She opened her reddening eyes, looking at the Captain.
“Sir, I'm so sorry, I was—”
“Shut it,” said the Chief.
“What did the Tassali say?”
“She was quiet, sir.
She just said, 'I do have a name', and walked away.”
Dillon looked at each of the crewmembers one by one.
One of the other crew, Seaman Graham, looked like he was about to speak, but the Captain raised a hand and shook his head.
Dillon looked up at the ceiling.
“Ice queen,” he said quietly.
“Chief?”
Chief Black’s voice was sharp and clear.
“I’ve got this, sir.”
“Good, good,” said Dillon to the ceiling.
He was forcing himself to remain calm, but his brittle voice was betraying him.
“Sir,” said the Chief.
“Captain’s Mast tomorrow?”
“Yes, thank you Chief.
Oh nine hundred, on the bridge.
I’m very interested to hear all about this.”
“Aye aye, sir.
Oh nine hundred tomorrow sir.”
Dillon left the messdeck, slowly and deliberately retracing his steps back along the passageway, up the ladder and into the wardroom.
He picked up his datapad and pen in one hand, and with the other he carried his empty glass to the counter.
He carefully set it down before leaving the wardroom and walking to his cabin.
The moment the cabin door closed behind him, the datapad was airborne, thrown with tremendous force across the cabin.
It struck the far wall next to the window, and clattered to the floor.
The display went dark.
Dillon stormed into the cabin’s head, and stabbed the button to close the door.
It slid shut smoothly and quietly, which made him groan loudly in frustration.
“There isn’t even a fucking door to slam,” he muttered, starting to pace back and forth in the tiny space.
After a dozen two-pace laps of the head, he stopped next to the sink, pulling on the tap.
As water leapt down from the faucet, he put his hands on the steel counter and leaned forward until his head was under the stream.
The water beat on the back of his head, getting his collar wet, streaming down his face and pouring from his nose and chin.
He focused on taking deep breaths and relaxing the tightness in his neck.
The cabin door chirped, and he laughed.
“You’re kidding me.”
Gently turning off the water, he pulled a towel over his head and left the bathroom.
As he did, his hand curled around the corner of the wall to tap the door console.
“C’mon in,” he said, rubbing the towel on his head.
He heard the door open and close, but there was no other sound.
He had reached his bunk, and let the towel fall to his shoulders as he turned around.
Inside his door stood the Palani, her hands clasped in front of her, head bowed, her eyes looking at the floor.
“Tassali Yenaara,” he stammered.
“I didn’t know it was you…”
Her voice was quiet and controlled, but had regained its harmony.
“Now is a bad time.
I will—”
“No, not at all.
Please come in.”
She took a step forward, and looked into his eyes.
The flush was gone from her face, replaced by fatigue.
“I came to apologise, Captain.
I have acted very poorly.”
Dillon shook his head.
“You have nothing to—”
She interrupted him.
“Please do not tell me I have nothing to apologise for.
I do.
I disrespected you and your ship, and I acted in a very unbecoming manner.
It was uncivilised of me to lose my temper, and disgraceful of me to raise my voice.
I am deeply sorry.”
The Captain opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.
After a few moments, he tried again.
“I don't understand.
The crewmembers told me you were calm, and hardly said anything to them.”
She nodded.
“That is true, Captain. “
“Then you could hardly say you lost your temper—”
“Captain,” she sighed, “I have just broken several things in my cabin.
I am surprised you did not hear me.”
“Oh,” said Dillon.
“I see.”
He looked at the floor for a moment, conscious of the tightness in his hands.
“I don’t think you need to apologise, but
you
think you do, and I respect that. I'm sorry for the behaviour of my crew.”
“Captain, it was no fault of yours that—”
“Now it’s my turn:
please let me finish.
This is my ship, and I’m responsible for everyone on it.
I don’t know the details, but I understand that the crew were speaking disrespectfully of you and your people.
This ship is crewed by humans from different cultures, and showing disrespect to any culture is unacceptable.
I promise I will administer discipline.”
The Palani woman nodded solemnly.
“Now my sentiments echo yours as well, Captain.
I accept your apology, though it was not necessary.”
Dillon nodded.
The two were quiet for a moment, watching each other, and he suddenly realised he’d sat down on the foot of his bunk.
Tiredness had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt himself deflating.
She was looking intently at his face.
“How do you do it?” she asked.
He blinked, bleary-eyed.
“Do what?”
“I have never seen a more diverse crew.
I would not have guessed that forty more different people existed.
Some are complete savages, and some are almost civilised.
How do you keep these people moving in the same direction?
How do humans manage to accomplish anything amidst the endless conflict with each other?”
The Captain shrugged.
“I don’t know.
I guess, whatever our differences, we’re all in this together.”
She kept watching his face, as if trying to read something more in his eyes.
“I guess we are.
Thank you, Captain, and good night.”
Dillon nodded again.
“Good night, Tassali.
In future, I’ll make sure the crew shows more respect, and addresses you by name.”
The Tassali stepped to the door, pressing a finger against the console.
“Just you,” she said, as the door opened.
“Amba.”
“Pardon?”
She gave him a small smile from the doorway.
“My name.”
The Commodore’s flickering image shook its head.
“That’s not going to help at all.
You know perfectly well how uptight the Palani are about personal relations, let alone sexual… well, anything.
It was Lesson One of the course, for crying out loud.”
Dillon grimaced.
“I haven’t taken the xeno relations course yet, sir.
I’m supposed to take it in August.”
“Oh.”
She paused.
“Well, by the time you get back, you’ll be ready to teach it.
How’d the Tassali react?”
“Surprisingly well, sir.
She was calm to the crew.
She went to her cabin and smashed some stuff, then came to me and apologised.”
The older woman narrowed her eyes, lips momentarily pursing.
“Oh.
I guess that's good, then.
Well, we can bet she told the Palani Admiralty.
And the crewmember…?”
“Week’s pay, sir—”
“That seems reasonable.”
“— and beer ration forfeited.”
The Commodore blinked.
“You cruel bastard.
I should call you ‘Bligh’.”
Dillon shook his head.
“Not that cruel, sir.
She doesn’t drink; was selling her ration to the highest bidder.
The Chief told me.”
Commodore Sinclair nodded.
“Like I’ve said before:
a good Chief is worth their weight in gold.”
“Yes, sir.”
The senior officer glanced down at a datapad in front of her, out of sight of the holoprojector.
“Question for you, Commander:
What does our Dosh friend think about the Palani guest?”
Dillon’s brow furrowed.
“The Head Mechanic?
Truth is, she makes him worried.
He’s mentioned to me, more than once, that a Tassali is a powerful person, and that we don’t know anything about her.”
“I don’t much like that, Commander.
Does the Mechanic think she’s a threat to the ship?”
He shook his head.
“I asked him that exact question, sir.
He said he doesn’t think so.
But I’m damned if I can get any details out of him.
I don't know, sir.
He's concerned.
Maybe he's got some history with the Palani. Whatever it was, it made an impression on him.”
The Commodore made a face.
“Huh.
Well, I’m inclined to agree with you, Commander.
Obviously the Dosh has some personal experience that is flavouring his perception of the Palani.
In any event, it won’t matter for long.”
“Sir?”
She held up a datapad, though Dillon couldn’t read it in the projection.
“The Palani ambassador has thanked us for rescuing their citizen, and has asked to pick her up.”
“Understood,” said Dillon.
“Where, sir?”
The Commodore glanced down at her datapad.
“Iralan system, in the Burnt Worlds.
It’s on our charts.
They understand your situation, and that it might take a few days to get there.
There will be a flotilla of Palani ships waiting for you, to repatriate the Tassali.”
Dillon blinked.
“Flotilla, sir?”
She looked straight out from the projection and nodded.
“Yes, Commander.
Flotilla.
And no, I don’t know why it takes several ships to pick up one person.”