Burnt Worlds by S.J. Madill Read Free Book Online Page A

to sink in, the Dosh quickly continued.   “Captain, I admit I have no compelling evidence.   No chemical residue.   No traces of abnormal radioactive decay.   Nothing apart from what I would expect from an exploding jump drive.”
    Dillon nodded slowly.   The rain beating down outside made it hard to think.   “Okay, Sap.   Torn apart.   How?”
    “I am unsure, Captain.   I saw the explosion happen.   I thought it looked like the drive deformed.   It happened very fast.   The drive stretched toward the outer hull, then burst.”   The Dosh began to speak more quickly.   “I tested the metal fatigue of the remaining drive parts.   There is some evidence of stretching, but it is not conclusive.   I need to conduct additional tests.   Gather additional evidence.   I hope to—”
    “Sap,” interrupted Dillon.
    “-… Yes, Captain?”
    “Sap.   You know your business.   I trust you.   I believe you.”
    Even through the pounding rain, he heard the Dosh exhale.   “Thank you, Captain.”
    “So, if the drive didn’t do it by itself, then what?”
    “Captain,” said the Mechanic, “I believe the point of origin was outside the ship.   Something like a highly-focused tractor beam.   I am not aware of anything that could generate the effect.”
    “Okay,” said Dillon.   He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension that had suddenly built up.   “Run any tests you want.   Do any analysis you need.   Let me know how I can help.”  
    The two of them fell silent.   Dillon watched the Dosh look down at the floor, then at his hands that were tightly clasped in front of him.   The mottled face was still tense.
    “Sap,” said the Captain.
    “Yes?”
    “Sooner or later, we’ll have to tell our bosses.”
    “Please, Captain, not yet.   There is not enough evidence.   It is speculation.   My command would see it as unprofessional.   Highly unprofessional.”
    “Okay, Sap.   Just let me know everything.   Okay?”
    “Yes, Captain.   And thank you.”
    Dillon rolled his head against the bulkhead in a slight nod.   He quietly sighed, and turned to look out the shuttle door.   The rain had begun to slacken, and in the distance they could see the lights of cargo movers coming down the road.

7

    High on the wardroom wall, the mechanical clock ticked quietly away, counting off the late hours of night.   The ship’s lights were a dim glow, part of their artificial cycle of night and day.   Dillon sat alone at the long wooden table of the officer’s mess, a datapad on the table before him.   Classical music wafted quietly from the speakers, almost drowned out by the noise from the ventilation duct.   Somewhere in the system, a fan had begun to rattle.   No one had been able to trace it down yet, and it was getting louder.   He tried to ignore it.  
    Dillon glanced at the glass that sat next to his datapad.   A few bits of foam were all that remained of his beer.   Before leaving New Halifax, they hadn’t loaded enough to provide the crew with their daily ration.   But the messes’ fridges had still been stocked from Borealis ’ previous journey, and it had been one of those days.   There had been a lot of 'those days' recently.   The supplies they’d picked up on Tashann a few days ago weren’t working out as well as they’d hoped.   The amorphous matter for the fabricators wasn’t of high quality, and a lot of it had been wasted fabricating replacement parts that failed as soon as they were installed.   The Kenma grain meal had been universally reviled by the crew, even though it didn’t cause any digestive problems.
    A few things had somehow gone right though, which was reassuring to both Captain and crew.   Despite the fabricator problems, Sap had eventually been able to get the port side engine running.   Though his caution continued, they managed to increase the ship’s speed to 10 light years per hour; at this rate, the trip home would