Authors: S.J. Madill
The Tassali sighed, glancing away and back again.
“You may have noticed, Captain, that I can be… passionate.
When provoked, I have been known to speak in temper.
One of my family’s rivals deliberately angered me, and I expressed an opinion that was… not congruent with the decrees of the Pentarch.
I told of things that should not be known.”
A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“I did so publicly.
And very, very loudly.”
“What did they do?”
Again she looked down at her hands.
“I was denounced and disowned, by most of my family.
By everyone I had ever known.
And by millions of people I had never even met.
It was humiliating.”
The white face had become tinged with blue.
When she spoke again, her voice was lacking some of its harmony.
“The Pentarch were furious.
I had learned of things that were forbidden, and I refused to be quiet.
I found out that they planned to silence me.”
She looked down at the desk, her cheeks flushing blue.
“My cousin Orlahal, he was one of the few who still spoke to me.
He sent a ship to get me.
I escaped from my homeworld, sneaking away in the middle of the night.
Like a thief.”
She shook her head.
“It was not truly a diplomatic vessel, Captain.
It was a foolish young man, helping his equally foolish cousin try to escape the inevitable.
We had no destination, and no plan.
Orlahal…”
She shook her head.
“Now he is gone as well, and his entire crew.”
She looked back up and met the Captain’s eyes with hers.
“I know,” she said hesitantly, “that you have orders to take me home.
I do not really feel I have a home to go to.
I do not wish to interfere.
You do what you must, of course.
And the Pentarch will do what they must.”
Dillon had leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his eyes not leaving the cobalt gaze of the Palani. He fought with his voice until it came.
“I’m sorry, Tassali.
I had no idea.
That’s such a cold thing to do.”
He immediately regretted his choice of words, and began to stammer a retraction.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
The Palani woman’s face brightened as she started to laugh; the first he’d heard from her.
It was like a song.
“Oh, by the gods, Captain, how I hate your language!
What nonsense is it, that ‘cold’ means uncaring?”
“I…,” he sputtered, “...I have no idea where that comes from.”
Her laughter subsided, leaving a wide smile on her face.
“Thank you for that, Captain.
And for listening.
But tell me, that is not why you came, is it?
To listen to me pour my troubles over you, for me to plead my case once more?”
Dillon smiled and shook his head.
“You’re welcome.
And no, it wasn’t.
I originally came here to thank you, Tassali.”
“Please, Captain, call me Amba.”
He nodded, and straightened in his chair.
“Thank you, Amba.
For saving my life.”
“You are very welcome, Captain.”
“Please, Amba, stop calling me Captain.”
She nodded back.
“You are very welcome, Fredrick James.”
Dillon grimaced.
“That sounded like my mother calling me when I’d been bad.”
The Tassali raised an eyebrow at him, her smile widening.
“It does?
That would not do.”
She thought for a moment.
“
Feda
.
It is very close to your name.”
“What does that mean?”
“I will tell you later.
But fear not, it is a compliment.
At any rate, your Chief Black has already visited to thank me for helping you.”
He looked away for a moment.
“Yeah, I guess she would.”
“She thinks very highly of you.
Very highly.
She told me a little about you.”
Dillon’s eyes wandered back to hers.
“Yeah.
She’s been good to me.
You should meet her son someday, he’s just like her.
He’s in university now.”
Amba was quiet a moment.
“What about your family, Feda?”
He shrugged.
“My parents are long gone.
My two big sisters, I never see them.
I get maybe a message every few months from Maureen.
Haven’t heard from Jane since she married that Swedish guy.”
He exhaled loudly.
“No, I’ve just got the Chief.
And this,” he said, gesturing to the cabin.
“Until we get back, anyway.
Then that’ll be the end of that.
So I guess I’m not really in a hurry either.”
The Palani looked at him quizzically.
“What do you mean?
What happens when you get back?”
Dillon stood up, ignoring the pain in his abdomen, and began to pace across the tiny cabin.
“I’m not supposed to be out here.
I was supposed to be promoted this year, but that was just seniority, not merit.
Years ago, back at the start of my career, an evaluation officer decided I wasn’t command material.
I don’t know why.
The decision went into my record, and that was that.
I fought it for years, but no one would do anything about it.
No one could tell me how to undo it.
I’m only aboard because it’s a mandatory rotation.
After this, it’s desk jobs forever.
My ten years are up.
I was going to leave the service when I got back.”
The Tassali stood, and watched him pace back and forth.
“I thought you were doing very well.”
He stopped, facing the wall.
“No, I’m just faking it and hoping no one notices.
Truth is, I don’t give a damn whether I get home or not.
There’s nothing there.
There never was.”
His voice became a whisper.
“I just want to get the rest of them home.
They deserve it.
O’Neil deserved it.”
Dillon suddenly felt a touch on his arm.
Startled, he turned around to face the Palani.
She stepped right in front of him, gently putting her hands on his arms.
He had never seen her up close before.
Her porcelain skin was flawless, and the blue of her eyes was endless.
He stammered, “I thought you couldn’t…”
The Tassali shook her head.
Her voice was soft, and her citrus-scented breath was cool on his face.
“No.
I will say again what I have said to others:
the Palani are not the only ’clean’ people.
I cannot believe that a person such as you is a mere animal.
I have chosen to believe you are holy.
You
must
be.”
Dillon looked at her face, feeling her cold fingertips on his arms, and desperately tried to find something to say.
You’re beautiful, you’re exotic, you’re captivating.
You’re a bad idea.
Your hands are cold.
Your breath is sweet, your lips must be…
“I…” he stammered.
“Feda,” she said again, “I have never been so alone.
And you feel the same, I know it.”
“Amba…”
Her voice was a whispered song.
“Neither of us has to be alone any more.”
She backed away, her hands lingering on his arms for a moment, and she smiled.
A soft, genuine smile that warmed the room.
Head Mechanic Saparun Vish stood next to the jump drive, his hands on his hips.
His apprentices, Stewart and Anderson, were running the latest set of tests on the mass of plumbing and circuitry, scanning its components and supporting framework for the seventh time.
Inside the translucent white sphere, tiny glowing motes of blue light wafted about, swirling in lazy circles around the sphere’s centre.
Able Seaman Stewart looked up from her datapad, meeting the Dosh Mechanic’s green-eyed gaze.
“Sir, the replacement looks good.
All the plasma injectors are now working properly at one percent power.”
Saparun nodded.
His quiet voice was difficult to hear amidst the murmur of machinery.
“That is good.
And the power reading?”
She smiled broadly.
“Negative energy, sir.
Just shy of one negative megajoule.”
Stewart glanced toward the engine room’s hatch.
“Sir,” she said.
Lieutenant Cho grinned as he approached.
“Head Mechanic Vish.
Stewart, Anderson.
Negative energy?
What's that blue glow I see in the jump drive?
Have you got it working?”
The Dosh stepped away from his apprentices to greet the officer.
“Lieutenant, it is pleasing to see you.
You have begun your shift?”
Cho nodded, patting the Mechanic on the shoulder.
“Aye, started early.
Just relieved the Captain.
Thought I’d begin with a quick once-around.”
Saparun nodded.
“The Captain, has he improved?”
The Lieutenant’s smile dimmed.
“Actually, no.
He looked terrible when I relieved him.
He said he was headed down to med bay to see Singh.”
“That is unwelcome news.
However, he is in good hands.”
“Yes, and Singh’s got fleet surgeons at her beck and call back in Halifax.
He’ll be fine.
So…” said Cho, nodding toward the dimly-glowing jump drive.
Saparun turned to face the direction Cho was looking.
“Yes,” he said.
“It is at one percent power and generating a minimal amount of negative energy.
This pleases me.
But it is a long way from being able to make a jump.”
Cho’s grin widened.
“That’s great, I’ll tell the Captain.
So have you been enjoying human-style engineering?”
The Dosh slowly turned his head to look at the officer.
“The Captain calls it ‘reckless self-endangerment’, and he is correct.
However, our results are self-evident.
Dosh Mechanic policies would never permit these creative methods.”
“See?
Maybe humans have something to teach the Dosh.”
“I would also point out, Lieutenant, that humans suffer nine hundred times more mishap-related injuries than the Dosh.”
Cho laughed.
“Fair enough.
But we also went from our first powered flight to our first FTL flight in less than two hundred years.
And please, just call me Cho.”
The Dosh nodded.
“And you must call me Sap.
The Chief has told me, more than once, that human progress involves the blood of the workers.
I thought she was joking, but there must be some truth behind it.”
“The Chief said what?”
“One moment,” said Saparun, reaching into his coat pocket.
He pulled out his datapad, which was emitting a series of urgent-sounding beeps.
“I have an urgent and secure message from my commanders.”
He began to tap at the datapad’s display.
“What time,” he asked distractedly, “are you taking your lunch today, Cho?”
“I don’t know.
Say, nineteen hundred?”
“Very well,” said the Dosh, tapping at his datapad.
“I would like to eat with you, so I will come to the wardroom at nineteen hundred.”
A new window popped up on the datapad.
“Ah, here we are… oh.
Oh no.”
“What?” asked the Lieutenant.
The smile that had grown on his face suddenly disappeared.
The Mechanic’s red-skinned fingers rapidly danced across the pad’s display.
“I have forwarded it to the ship’s comm system.
An urgent message from Dosh command:
a Palani outpost, here in the Burnt Worlds, is currently under attack.”
He held up the datapad for Cho to see.
“Iralan.”
“Oh, shit,” breathed Cho.
He turned and sprinted out of the engine room.
“Main armament ready, port and starboard.
Seventeen shots,” said Chief Black.
“Eight shots port, nine shots starboard.”