Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home

The Calypso’s crew was much smaller than those of her sister ships, the Nexus and the Rising Sun, and yet she was a much larger vessel. Most of her bulk was her vast storage areas and docking for anything up to ten vessels at a time. Her shield generator, too, was a large and powerful one. As the Calypso had no offensive arsenal whatsoever and the fact she carried several trillion gallons of fuel, it was essential that her defensive capabilities were as effective as they could possibly be.

The vessel’s lack of weaponry was the reason for Captain Den Jargo’s slight apprehension as the Calypso and her crew prepared to exit Jump Space. Whilst he knew beyond all reasonable doubt that Captains Holding and Karavel would do their utmost to ensure the MRV’s survival, there was always the chance that they would not be able to do so.

“Exiting jump in ten, Sir,” said a Lieutenant, unnecessarily, as Den was watching the countdown intently.

The Calypso exited Jump Space between the Nexus and the Rising Sun, the idea being that should an attack be mounted from the fore or the rear, the precious Mobile Repair Vehicle was as protected as she could be.

Immediately, the MRV’s systems scanned the vicinity, working out in an ever-widening circle. When the radar displayed a star system devoid of threatening activity, the Calypso’s computer systems turned their attention to the seven planetoids, six of which were tidally locked, that the system contained.

“Systems register three massive ore reserves on the hot side of the second rock out.”

Den thought about that for a moment. True, they’d half-filled their stores from the moon in the previous star system, but that operation had been cut short when they had discovered the survival pod.

“How hot are we talking, Lieutenant?” he asked, a few seconds later.

“North of four thousand degrees on the surface, Sir.”

“We’d have to send a team of Grabbers down,” he mused. “Get me the Nexus.”

“Aye Sir, the Nexus.”

“What can I do you for, Den?” Captain Frank Holding greeted his fellow captain.

“Frank, there’s massive ore reserves on the second planetoid out. It’s tidally locked and the ore’s on the hot side. I want to put my Grabbers on the surface.”

The Grabbers were essentially enormous, remote-controlled dump trucks, able to withstand massive temperature extremes and were capable of carrying several tonnes of ore a piece.

“Frank?” said Captain Jargo, when there was no response.

“Sorry, Den. We’re picking up some fickling odd readings from that star. I’ll get back to you. Hold station until I do.”

“Aye Sir,” replied a dejected Den Jargo as he terminated the transmission.

“Get me the Rising Sun,” Frank said as he lit a cigarette, his eyes transfixed upon the data read out.

“Aye Sir, the Rising Sun.”

“Frank,” said Senna Karavel, saluting as she received his call. “I was just about to call.”

“About the star?” Frank asked, returning her salute.

“Aye,” she replied. “It appears to be a Yellow Hypergiant, and its energy outputs are consistent with that, but the behaviour of its orbital bodies suggest a Brown Dwarf.”

“The Nexus′ scans are returning the same information,” he replied, thoughtfully. “Den Jargo wants to send his Grabbers onto the second rock, but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I’m with you, Frank,” replied Senna. “At least, not until we’re sure exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” said Frank, inclining his head toward the speaker. “What is it?”

“I can’t be certain,” she replied, “but have a look at this.”

A few keystrokes later, the relevant information was displayed upon Frank’s monitor.

“What the fick? Are you looking at this, Senna?”

“Aye,” she replied, a few seconds later. “But I don’t have so much as a fickling clue what it means.”

“If I’m reading it right, then this isn’t the star system we thought we were jumping to.” He paused, and turned back to the Lieutenant. “Can you trace the route we travelled through Jump Space, Lieutenant..?”

“Jones, Sir. Fiona Jones,” Lieutenant Fiona Jones, replied. “And yes, I think I can, Sir.”

As she spoke, before she’d had half a chance to set to the task she’d been set, Fiona’s console started to behave extremely erratically.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“Erm, not as such, Sir,” she replied, much more calmly than she actually felt. The console sparked and she leapt back, shrieking. Then, projected from that very console, a holographic display became visible, and it encompassed the Nexus′ bridge in its entirety.

“What’d you do, Lieutenant Jones?”

“Nothing, Sir,” she replied, defensively. “This has nothing to do with me.”

The hologram showed a vast star map that appeared to span many galaxies. Hundreds of tiny star clusters, with wide spaces between. Galaxies, and the empty space that lay between them.

“What the fick?” Frank muttered. He’d never seen anything like it and up until the hologram appeared, he’d had no idea his vessel was capable of producing such a thing.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Sir.”

“Can you find our current location, Lieutenant?”

Before Fiona could do anything the holographic display rapidly zoomed in. First upon a single galaxy, then upon a star system within that galaxy.

“Did you..?”

“No Sir,” Lieutenant Jones replied, “but that’s where we are.”

“This display tells us the Hypergiant out there is actually a Black Dwarf star.”

“I’ve never seen a Black Dwarf.”

“No one has, Ms Jones. They’ve only ever been hypothesised.” Frank paused to light a cigarette. “I need a tech up here, now.”

“There’s something else, Sir,” said Fiona, studying the hologram intently. “Our initial scans of this star system showed seven planetoids. This display shows only one.”

“Run a detailed scan on those seven orbitals, Lieutenant,” Frank said as the requested technician arrived on the bridge. “I want to know exactly what the fick is going on.”

“Aye Sir,” replied Fiona, as Frank turned his attention to the tech.

“Tell me what you see, technician,” he said, with a nod toward the hologram.

“Something no one else has ever seen,” he replied.

“So it’s a Black Dwarf?”

“Aye Sir,” the technician replied. “That’s what’s left over when a White Dwarf can’t burn hot enough to sustain itself. All prior calculations show that the process takes over sixteen billion years.”

“So?”

“The Universe itself, Sir, is less than fourteen billion years old, which means either that those calculations are wrong or that we as a species really aren’t as intelligent as we thought we were.”

“Sir, those planets,” Fiona began. “They’re not planets...” As she spoke, the Nexus′ radar display flickered for several seconds. When it returned to normal, it showed the star system as the holographic display did. A Black Dwarf star, with a solitary orbital body. It showed something not visible on the hologram though.

“Then what the fick are they, Lieutenant?”

“They’re ships, Sir,” she replied. “Ships the size of motherfickling planets!”

“Get me the Rising Sun and the Calypso,” ordered Frank, sucking hungrily on the cigarette. “Now!”

“Aye Sir, the Rising Sun and the Calypso.”

“Senna, Den,” Frank offered a quick salute, and then continued. “I don’t know if you’re seeing what we are but we could be in some seriously deep fickling shit. We’ve wound up in a system fick knows where, but it’s definitely not the one we thought we were coming to. That star is a Black Dwarf, which raises many fickling questions for which I’ve got no answers. The six outermost orbitals are vessels of some kind.”

“My systems aren’t registering any of that, Frank,” said Senna.

“Nor mine,” Den added. “But that would explain the massive ore deposits. The system was picking up on whatever material the ships are made of.”

“That makes sense, Den.”

“These ships,” said Senna, “are they hostile?”

“I’ve no fickling idea,” Frank replied as he lit another cigarette. “As yet though, I’m not even sure they’ve registered our presence.”

“If I could make a suggestion, Frank, that we leave it that way.”

“They’re powering weapons!” shouted Fiona from her console.

“Too fickling late for that, Senna.”

“To power weapons for ships that size, it’s going to take time,” began Captain Jargo. “Time enough for us to make a run back to the Jump Point. We’re only a couple of clicks in-system.”

“Sounds like a fickling plan. Both of you, bring your ships about and get through that damn Jump Point.”

“Aye Sir,” both replied with a quick salute, and the transmission was terminated.

Due to the incredibly high levels of strain it put upon a vessel, ships rarely pulled fast, tight manoeuvres, except in battle situations. However when circumstances dictated it, such as when an unknown enemy was powering unknown weapons of an unknown strength, it was worth the risk of the odd hull breach.

Their hulls screeching in protest, the Nexus, the Rising Sun and the Calypso, spun around whilst simultaneously accelerating for the Jump Point they’d used upon their arrival in the star system.

Within moments, they were seconds away from reaching their goal.

“Sir, they’re firing weapons,” said Lieutenant Jones.

“Good fickling thing we’re well out of range then,” replied Frank. “And even if we weren’t, we’re too close to the Jump Point for them to hit us before we’re through.”

“They’re not firing at us, Sir,” she continued. “They’re firing at the star. Thermo-Nukes of an unknown yield.”

“They’re trying to jump-start a dead fickling star?”

“Aye Sir.”

“Then it’s definitely a good thing we’re leaving. Reckon that’d send some nasty fickling shockwaves our way.”

“Jump in ten, Sir.”

The Nexus travelled through the drab off-black of Jump Space. Somewhere out there, the Rising Sun and the Calypso were doing exactly the same thing along the same route. But the Nexus′ systems were unable to detect them. It was impossible to detect anything whilst in Jump Space.

Lieutenant Fiona Jones set about the task set to her by Frank Holding. She was to work out exactly where they were in relation to the Remigro star system using the holographic display, the origins of which were still a complete and total mystery to all.

As most sailors with aspirations of becoming an officer and commanding a vessel of their own, Fiona had a firm grasp of astrophysics. It was an essential requirement if one hoped to graduate from the Fleet Academy, which Fiona managed to do with an C+ overall, an above average score. There were few who’d scored higher since the academy’s inception, and only three who had aced it.

The information she was getting from the hologram though, was worrying her. She’d run a programme to detect familiar patterns and star constellations in the vicinity of their last jump and had found no such thing. So Fiona had expanded the search to the five nearest star systems, then the ten nearest and so on. Still, she’d come up empty.

She broadened the display, zooming out a great deal, and lit a cigarette. As she smoked, she simply looked at the holographic display, and it was not until she’d finished the cigarette that it hit her.

“Canston says she’ll see you, Frank,” said Jared, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, Jared,” Captain Holding replied. He needed to talk to Ms Canston, briefly, to let her know of the slight alteration to their plans. He nodded at the two guards posted at the door to her private suite, and entered.

Ella Canston was sat up in bed, a ship issue pillow at her back. She smiled as Frank entered the room.

“Sir,” she said, and made as if to salute her Captain.

“No need for that,” he replied kindly, gesturing that she should lower her arm. “How are you feeling? Or is that a bloody stupid question?”

“I’m fine, Sir,” she said. “I’ll be even better when that bastard isn’t breathing the same air.”

“There’s been a delay, I’m afraid,” he began. “We ran into some unforeseen trouble when we exited Jump and had to beat a hasty retreat. I didn’t even have chance to talk to Captain Karavel about your reassignment.”

“Trouble, Sir?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, Ms Canston, and fear not. We’ll get you over to the Rising Sun as soon as we can.”

He turned at a knock on the door, to see Jared yearning for his attention.

“Can it wait, Jared?”

“No Frank,” he replied. “It’s Lieutenant Jones.”

“Sorry, Ella,” Frank turned back to the girl in the bed. “I have to go but if you need anything, talk to Jared.”

“I suppose Spits’ head is out of the question?”

“I’m afraid it is, Ms Canston.” She chuckled at that, though Frank was pretty certain she was being serious about wanting the weapon techs head, and he could hardly blame her.

He stood and left the medical bay, making his way quickly to the bridge where he’d left Fiona, with orders to solve one of their many problems.

“Lieutenant Jones,” he said upon his arrival. “You have something for me?”

“Aye Sir,” she replied, though she did not look at him. Her eyes were still fixed upon the holographic display that surrounded her. “Look at this.”

Frank did, and lit a cigarette.

“That’s the Remigro star system, yes?”

“Aye Sir,” she said. Raising her hand so it was deeper within the hologram, she spun it anti-clockwise, which in turn rotated the hologram itself, and it came to rest upon another star system, one that to Frank, was incredibly familiar.

“Victoria...”

“Yes,” Fiona continued, “in the same galaxy, but hundreds of thousands of star systems apart.” She twitched her fingers, still within the display, and it zoomed out for several seconds. Then, rotating her hand clockwise, the holographic zoomed quickly upon another star system, the one from which the Nexus and her sister ships had just escaped. “That’s the Black Dwarf system, Sir.”

“It’s in a different galaxy,” he said, quietly, inhaling deeply upon the cigarette. “We’re in a different galaxy.”

“That’s only half the story, Sir,” Fiona Jones continued. “We’re not talking the next galaxy over. We’re not even in the same neighbourhood.”

“How far, Lieutenant Jones?”

“Twenty-seven galaxies over, Sir,” she said. “Four hundred megalight-years, give or take.”

“Come again?”

“You heard right, Sir,” she replied. “Four hundred million light years.”