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

only take six months.   Dillon and the other officers, with Sap’s input, were still working on an exact route, deciding which systems to stop at for periodic replenishment of food and supplies.   Once they got through the Burnt Worlds, they hoped things would get easier.  
    The Commodore was satisfied, maybe even pleased, with their progress so far.   She was particularly happy about Sap’s ability to get the ship’s systems running as well as he had.   Admiral Clarke had sent words of encouragement, as had the chain of command up through the Defence Minister, the Prime Minister and the Palace.   Making a single jump of thirty-five thousand light years was a great scientific and technological achievement, and was being carefully kept out of the news.   No need for everyone else to learn about it just yet.
    Dillon hadn’t mentioned Sap’s theory to the Commodore.   Like the Mechanic had said, it was only speculation. So for now he just made sure to document the theory, along with everything else that was going on, in the diary he had started.   It seemed likely that there would be an inquiry when they got back, and he thought it wise to write everything down rather than depend on his memory.  
    Somewhere along the line, Dillon had traded his datapad stylus for one of the ink-filled pens intended for the paper logbook.   Chewing on the end of the pen, he flicked back and forth on his datapad.   Sap’s analysis of the jump drive’s parts was meticulously detailed, but there wasn’t enough evidence to point to any one reason for the explosion.   Lieutenant Cho had pulled the sensor logs for the time of the accident, but the data was very clear:   they had been the only ship in the system at the time.   The start and end points of the jump had been carefully chosen by the fleet’s top jump-technology specialists:   always in open space, in regions dense with dark energy, where the jump drives would be most efficient.   The areas were all thoroughly mapped; there were no obstructions, no hazards.   It was all routine; all across human space, ships made jumps dozens of times a day without incident.   Dillon’s ice-blue eyes flicked to his glass, which was still empty.   He continued chewing mercilessly on his pen.
    The speaker on the wall chirped.   “Bridge to wardroom,” said Lieutenant Atwell.   “Is the Captain there?”
    He leaned back in his chair, and poked the comm terminal.   “Captain here.   What’s up, Atwell?”
    “Sir, we’ve got a distress signal.   It’s not far away.”
    “Out here?   Huh.”   He looked again at his empty glass.   “On my way.”

    -----
    “As you were,” said Dillon pre-emptively, as he stepped onto the bridge.   PO Lee had started to open his mouth to speak, but turned it into a grin instead.   “Sir.”
    Atwell was hunched over the communications console.   “Sir.   The Dosh command passed this to us.”
    The Captain looked over her shoulder as she continued.   “It’s Palani.   An automated distress beacon from an escape pod.   They don’t have any ships this side of the Burnt Worlds, so they asked the Dosh for help.   The Dosh don’t have any ships out this way either, but they know we’re out here, so they sent it to us.   We’re the only ship within a thousand light years.”
    He read the message transcript on the screen.   “Palani?   Out beyond the Burnt Worlds?   Huh.”
    The message streamed by again; small video windows showed the accompanying messages from the Dosh command.   Dillon poked at the screen, and the playback stopped.   “Call them back, Atwell.   Tell them we’re on our way at our best speed.”
    “Yes, sir.   We have the exact coordinates, and there’s already a course laid in.   Four hours at current speed.”
    “Outstanding.   Stellar work.   Go ahead and change to the new course.”
    “Aye aye, sir.”
    Dillon stepped over to the Captain’s chair, and poked several times at a terminal