Free Burnt Worlds by S.J. Madill

what was your ship’s mission?”
    She hesitated.   “I would prefer not to say.”   A blue tint began to spread on her cheeks.   She swivelled in her chair, turning her back to him. “Why are we still in this system, Captain?   There is nothing to be gained, and our attacker may be nearby.   I spent twenty hours in that pod, looking out at this.   Please, Captain, take us away from this place.”
    Dillon stood, reflexively smoothing the front of his overcoat.   “I understand.   I plan to be underway soon.”  
    Her back was straight and her shoulders were square, even as her head sagged slightly.   He struggled for something to say, but wound up standing in silence.   Turning, he pressed a button to open the inner door.
    “Captain,” said the Palani.   She looked over her shoulder at him.   Her face and eyes were flushed with blue.   “I wish to ask a favour.”
    “Name it.”
    She looked at her bed, then back toward him, her eyes meeting his.   “I must convey the spirits of my crew to the Divines.   It should be today.   I need a larger, private room to do so…”
    Dillon nodded.   “I will have the wardroom cleared and locked for you.   Twenty-two hundred hours?   That’ll give the room time to cool.”
    The Tassali looked at the clock on the wall console, and frowned.   “Your system of time makes no sense either.   But if I understand it correctly, that would be two hours from now.   That seems adequate.”
    “Is there anything I can do to help with your... observance?”
    “No.   As the Captain, you would be permitted to attend if you wished, but no, there is nothing I need.”
    She turned to look back out the viewport as he closed the airlock door.

    -----
    Tassali Yenaara adjusted the position of the box once again, making sure it was centred on the wardroom table.   The box and the table were both made from the dark, thick-grained wood of trees native to Earth.   A crew member had produced it from a cabinet.   It held things used in the rituals of human religions.   It seemed appropriate.
    From her satchel, she carefully picked up a folded blue cloth, kissing it twice.   Reverently unfolding the altar cloth — the Lenira — she draped it over the makeshift altar.   Her gloved hands smoothed the cloth, long fingers running along the intricate gold embroidery.   Reaching back into her satchel, she carefully pulled out the five cloth-wrapped idols of the Palani deities, kissing each in turn and placing them delicately on the top of the altar.   The last she placed was Elinth, the Lady of Dusk, who was foremost during the ritual of farewell.   The Lady’s arms were outstretched, as in the embrace of an unseen lover, her eyes filled with calm regret.
    As the Tassali touched the gem on the idol’s back, the wardroom began to fill with light.   After a moment’s hesitation, the light resolved itself into a spherical image.   The image filled the room around the altar, showing the homeworld at dusk.   The Tassali watched the image as it began to move, displaying a live image from Palani Yaal La, the eternal world.   She knew the specific place being shown: it was Resana, a temple on the southern continent, not far from the ocean.   Birds flew past and, as the sound began to come through the idol, she heard their mournful calls.   The room of this alien ship, so very far from home, was suffused with the warm blue and pink glow of the Palani dusk.  
    Behind her, the wardroom door chirped as it unlocked and opened.   A moment later it chirped again as it locked shut.   She slowly turned around.
    The human Captain stood inside the door.   He wore a long heavy overcoat, the colour of night, with two rows of brass buttons and a belt around the waist.   On the cuffs were thick gold-embroidered stripes, and over his left breast were two rows of coloured ribbons.   He looked clean and tidy, unlike before.   Not so much the human savage of which her people often