Burnt Worlds Read Online Free PDF Page A

seemed self-conscious.   He looked at the Dosh, who was still watching him.   The alien’s eyes fluttered as he took a deep drink.   “How are you?” asked Sap.
    Dillon thought for a few moments.   “I’m keeping busy.   I will process it all later.”
    A nod from the alien.   “As the immediate fears fade, strong emotions will come to the surface.   I have not seen a counsellor on board… a chaplain?”
    The Captain rubbed the back of his neck.   “Yeah.   When there’s no proper chaplain, an officer is usually given the role.”
    Sap paused.   “You?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So the crew are well served.”   A drink, a flutter of the eyes.   “Have you ever met a Palani?   They have a priest on every ship.   Very high status.   They take their priests very seriously.”
    Dillon smiled.   “I thought the Palani took everything seriously.”
    “This is true.”   Sap drained the last of his coffee, and looked ruefully down into the empty mug.   “My own people take things seriously as well.   We strive for caution and certainty, and prefer the familiarity of procedure and process.   But not in all things.”   He set the mug down.   “We use humour to offset uncertainty and discomfort.   As for you, I understand humans sometimes seek counsel from their elders.”
    The Captain’s smile faded.   “Apart from the Chief, I’m pretty sure I’m the oldest person aboard.”
    “This is not true, Captain.   I am three hundred and eighty-four.”
    Dillon blinked. “I had no idea.”
    Sap hesitated, then carefully patted the Captain’s arm as he turned to leave.   “I won’t be far away.”

5

    As the last of the eight bell chimes sounded through the hailer, the ship’s interior lighting finished brightening to its normal ‘daylight’ setting.   Lieutenant Atwell rubbed her eyes, then ran her fingers through her short, curly hair.   Leaning her diminutive frame on the counter at the back of the bridge, she looked around once more as thoughts of her bunk crept into her mind.   Most of the morning watch were already on the bridge, and were in the process of relieving their weary colleagues.   Her watch had been peaceful.   She’d spent most of it supervising the crew, or reading quietly at a console.
    “Deck!” snapped a voice to her right.   She instinctively jolted upright to attention even as the Captain’s “Carry on” came from her left.  
    “Good morning, Atwell,” he said cheerily.  
    “Morning, skipper,” she replied, looking up at her commander.   He was freshly showered and shaved, but his eyes were dark and rimmed with red.   That made three nights in a row - ever since the accident - that he obviously hadn’t slept well.   “Have a good night?” she asked politely, though she knew the answer.
    “Not really,” he said.   “But thanks for asking.   What’s our situation?”
    Atwell nodded toward the bridge windows.   Beyond, the stars were barely moving.   “Still underway, still on course.   One light year per hour.”
    “Still at one?” asked the Captain, shaking his head.   “That barely qualifies as forward movement.   Did the Dosh say why?”
    “Same as before, sir:   we’ve got one engine, and it’s running with replicated parts, he doesn’t want to push it yet.   Still at a low—”
    “Simmer.   Yeah.”
    “Aye, sir.   Simmer.”
    “So…”   Dillon stopped for a moment, watching out the windows.   He sighed and looked down, his eyes following a seam in the floor.   After a few moments of silence, he looked back up. “Right, this planet he said we should try… do we know anything about it?”
    “Yes, sir, I read everything we had.   We just don’t have a lot of information about planets this far out.   Beyond Palani space are the Burnt Worlds, and beyond that are the independent states.   We’re a bit beyond that .   No real government out here, just worlds and settlements fending for themselves.   A few