Burnt Worlds (33 page)

Tilting back his head, the Mechanic took a sip.
 
He leaned his head left and right, letting the blue drink move around in his mouth.
 
“Nice,” he said approvingly.
 
“Though how they get this from Earth animals, I have no idea.”
 
He passed the bottle back to Cho, looking him in the eye as he did.
 
“So,” asked the Dosh, “why do you compete all the time?
 
Why the need to put on a… what did you say… ‘game face’?”

Another shrug.
 
“Always have.
 
I was the adopted kid; my brother — my parents’ real son — had all the breaks.
 
If I wanted to be seen, I had to be big enough, good enough, that I wouldn’t be hidden behind him.
 
We were always compared.
 
I knew it wasn’t going to stop, so I had to get away.
 
I’ve always been judged.
 
I get the Captain doing it; it’s his job, like you said.
 
But everyone else does it too.”
 
He swirled the bottle around in his hand, looking down at it.
 
“Except you, Sap.
 
You don’t.
 
Thank you for that.”

The Mechanic nodded.
 
“I do not consider myself qualified to judge people.
 
Nor would I want to.”
 
He stopped at the sound of someone walking on the deck above.
 
He cocked his head to one side, listening carefully.
 
“Anderson,” he said, “has returned.
 
He has not been successful in finding me.”

Cho looked up at the ceiling.
 
“Huh?
 
You can tell who it is?”

Saparun nodded.
 
“Oh, yes.
 
Everyone has a unique gait, an individual way of moving.
 
I take some pride in knowing people by their footsteps.”

“Why would that be useful?”

The Dosh smiled at the human.
 
“I believe I have mentioned how my people have a fondness for practical jokes.
 
This is a defensive skill.”

“Defence?
 
From what?”

“Clearly, you have never met my… sister.”

“Oh,” said Cho.
 
He continued to look at the ceiling, pausing only to take a sip from the bottle.
 
“So, should you go see why Anderson is looking for you?”

The red-skinned alien shook his head.
 
“No need.
 
It is a trivial matter, though it is clearly driving Anderson and Stewart to distraction.”

“How do you know it’s trivial?”

The Mechanic smiled.
 
“So many questions today.”
 
He patted his hand against the large front pocket of his red work coat.
 
“I have programmed the system to alert my datapad if there is a serious problem.
 
My datapad remains silent, so the problem cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I see.
 
That’s smart.”

Saparun smiled.
 
“Thank you.
 
Also, I haven’t purged the message log in four days.
 
The system will begin to create messages about the log being close to capacity.
 
That particular message is vague, so it will drive Anderson and Stewart quite insane.
 
At least, until they figure out what the message means.”

Cho squinted at him.
 
“You’re pranking them?”

The Mechanic gave a noncommittal shrug.
 
“I don’t think I would call it a prank.
 
A mere moment’s amusement on my part.
 
Perhaps a small test of their patience and resourcefulness.”

“Oh.”
 
Cho took another drink, watching the Dosh.
 
“Wait.
 
I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Another smile.
 
“Well, not a sister as such.
 
Or a brother, to be accurate.
 
A sibling, let’s say.”

“Fair enough.
 
But didn’t you two compete?
 
For careers, or attention, or whatever?”

The Mechanic looked up again, his eyes following the footsteps on the deck above.
 
“Not really.”
 
He held out his hand, waggling his fingers.
 
After staring for a moment, Cho handed him the bottle.
 
Peering into the top for a moment, Saparun took another drink.
 
“Dosh don’t compete for careers.
 
That has been mostly eliminated.”

“Nice,” said Cho quietly.

“Every seven years — that’s every nine or so Earth years — all Dosh usually take a series of tests.
 
Not all at once, obviously.
 
Anyway, these tests measure skills, aptitudes, talents, personality, beliefs, everything.
 
From this, we are provided guidance for our lives.
 
Careers, hobbies, sports, companionship and romance, place of residence, even holiday destinations.
 
We can get useful and highly accurate guidance as to what might be suitable or preferable for us.”

Cho held out his hand, imitating Saparun’s finger-waggling gesture.
 
“We have aptitude tests,” he said, “but nothing that good.”

The Mechanic nodded.
 
“Imagine how good those tests become, after carefully improving and refining them over a thousand years or more.”

Cho stopped and thought about that.
 
“That sounds…” he waved the bottle a little, searching for a word.
 
“...comforting?
 
Or confining?
 
To have your future laid out for you like that.”

Saparun finger-waggled the bottle back.
 
“I suppose so, yes.”
 
He took a larger drink.
 
“But you don’t have to follow the guidance, of course.
 
Sometimes, people choose to follow their own paths.
 
Sometimes it works, sometimes not.
 
But for humans - especially with your short lifespans - it would increase efficiency.
 
And, I would think, reduce… what do you say… angst and ennui.”
 
He paused a moment, his green eyes looking carefully at Cho.
 
“Which,” he said slowly, “makes me stop and think about how the dominant human language stole so many words from other languages.
 
I expect it will steal from the Dosh and Palani and others, given time.”

“What about you?”

“Me?
 
I have stolen a few words, yes.”

“No, I mean your own testing.
 
Did you follow the guidance?”

Saparun nodded, handing back the bottle.
 
“I did.
 
Talents, aptitudes, personality and skills, all pointed to a career as a mechanic.
 
An engineer, as humans would say.
 
I’ve tried other things that have shown up on tests — I’ve been a sculptor, dancer, theoretical physicist, liquor merchant, others — but always came back to my machines.
 
In my case, the guidance system has worked very well indeed.”

Cho looked up at the ceiling as a new set of footsteps entered the engine room above.
 
He squinted at the sound.
 
“Is that the Chief?”

The Mechanic nodded vigorously.
 
“Very good, Cho, I am impressed.
 
The Chief has indeed arrived in the engine room and, judging from the muffled voices, she is now distributing grief.”

“What about companionship?” asked Cho.
 
He tilted back the bottle, looking down it at the Dosh as he drank.
 
“What did the guidance say?”

Saparun gave a wide, toothy smile.
 
“It said that, late in life, I would abandon all wisdom and good sense, and begin a relationship with a human.”

Cho’s eyes widened.
 
“Did it?”

The alien shook his head.
 
“No, of course not.
 
But I have been ‘married’, to use your term.
 
Bonded to another.
 
I was very young at the time, and Halayun was very old.
 
We were an excellent match,” he said, looking down at the floor.
 
“An excellent match.
 
But at the same time, it seemed…” the red-skinned face twitched as he thought.
 
“...too easy?
 
Too comfortable?
 
Like watching a movie we have both already seen.
 
There was a lack of… I don’t know… novelty?”

“What happened to Halayun?” asked Cho.

Sap shrugged, still looking down.
 
“We had a long and happy time together.
 
But ‘he’ was very old, and his body expired.”
 
He nodded.
 
“Many happy memories.
 
But,” he said, looking up, “like I said, sometimes my people choose to follow their own path.
 
In fact—”
 
He suddenly trailed off as another set of footsteps crossed the deck above.
 
“Ah.
 
The Captain has arrived.
 
I should make an appearance.”

Amba shivered, which made her frown.
 
This was all becoming so ridiculous.
 
Didn’t the humans have a word for this?

“Is this what you call ‘irony’?” she asked.
 
Her voice always sounded strange when she had her mask on.

Up ahead, the Captain paused.
 
He shifted his feet in the knee-deep snow, and turned to look downhill at her.
 
She couldn’t see his face clearly through his visor, but she knew his eyes were watching her.
 

His voice came through the speakers in her mask.
 
“Pardon, Tassali?”

She took another few steps uphill, stopping just behind him.
 
Her long white robes fluttered in the wind, a ribbon of it wrapping momentarily around one leg before letting go and flapping behind her.

Her shoulders slumped as she sighed.
 
“It is the first time I have been to a normal-temperature world since I left home, and I am freezing.
 
I came from a world like this, and now it is too cold for me.”

She missed the feel of her tight white coldsuit — and she knew perfectly well how the humans looked at her in it — but this ice world was more than cold enough on its own.
 
This insulated suit was looser, and a little less comfortable, but it was keeping her warm.
 
When she’d started raising her body temperature a few weeks ago, she hadn’t thought of this.

“You didn’t have to come,” said Dillon.
 
It sounded snide, but she could see a smile in his eyes.
 
His humour again.

“Yes, Captain, I did.
 
I wanted to see snow again.”

The human nodded, leaning into the wind as a strong gust blew sheets of snow past them.
 
Wisps of white swirled around their feet, making Amba’s robes snap angrily behind her.

She turned her head to look into the wind, allowing the snowflakes to pelt off her mask.
 
She longed to remove the visor and feel the snow on her face, but Singh had said it was too cold here.
 
A sudden drop in temperature — even if it was back to ‘normal’ — might be dangerous for her.

Ahead, Dillon had started marching up the hill, raising his knees high as he climbed through the deep snow.

Turning to look behind her, the Tassali could see down the hill, back the way they’d come.
 
A few steps behind her stood one of the human crew — his name was Hamid, or something like that — carrying a portable scanner and a small stack of datapads.
 
Behind him the snow swirled and raged, giving only occasional glimpses of the shuttle parked at the bottom of the hill, and the other human crew who were guarding it and waiting for their return.

The human crewmember shifted the load he carried, still watching the Palani.
 
“You okay, ma’am?” he asked.

Amba snapped out of her reverie, forcing a smile onto her face.
 
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
 
She turned around and started making her way up the hill, following the Captain.
 
After a few moments, the crewmember began to follow.

It took another five minutes to reach the summit, mostly due to the deteriorating weather.
 
There was only enough room on top of the rocky outcrop for the two boxy buildings with the tall sharp spire between, just like they had found on the three previous dead worlds.
 
When she arrived, Dillon was already using his datapad to unlock the door of the first building.
 
The other human began to assemble the scanning device.

Amba was looking overhead, watching the roiling mass of snow flying by, when a voice in her mask interrupted her.
 
“Lee to Captain, over,” came the petty officer’s voice.
 
He was leading the team of crewmembers back at the shuttle.

“Captain to Lee, go ahead,” said Dillon.
 
Amba turned her head to look toward him.
 
The sharp, straight lines of his armoured suit and helmet made him look angular, even a little menacing.
 
It also exaggerated his physique, which was appealing.

“Sir,” said Lee, “Amoroso’s suit has got a faulty heater.
 
I’m putting him in the shuttle so he doesn’t freeze to death.
 
Over.”

“Understood,” said the Captain.
 
“The seals on mine are a bit leaky, so I’m planning on making this a quick trip.”