Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home

The Pearl’s hull breach was repaired within fourteen hours. Thankfully, as the vessel was well short a full compliment of crew, loss of life had been minimal, and only two of the Pearls sailors had perished.

The bodies of those two souls, along with the corpse of Technician Edward Smith, had been incinerated. It’d been proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the tech had been involved, somehow, with sabotaging the Pearl, but as he’d done the honourable thing and taken his own life, Grace had felt comfortable disposing of his body with those who weren’t traitors.

She looked out of the small faux-glass window at the drab off-black of Jump Space. It was one of only four such points on her vessel where it was possible to physically look outside.

Older ship designs had always included more windows, but even using faux-glass, a clear substance almost as strong as the titanium that made up the rest of a given vessel, it invariably created structural instabilities.

The Pearl’s four faux-glass windows though were nothing more than portholes, tiny circular sheets of the substance situated on opposite sides of the ship, that compromised the integrity of the vessel a nominal amount.

She shook her head slowly, and wondered if she’d ever return home. Of course, she knew there was the remotest of possibilities that the current jump would result in the Pearl’s arrival back in the Victoria star system. Statistically it was a near-impossibility. There were in infinite number of star systems and there was just as much chance of their arrival in any of those, as her home star system.

Normally a ship would only traverse Jump Space via preordained routes. Thus, it was always clear exactly where said ship would end up. But when a vessel jumped in-system it was potentially scattered anywhere. Without such a route to follow the jump drive latched on to the strongest signature it could find and headed for it. It was also much quicker than following a set route, as when heading down a well trodden path, the energy signatures of previous journeys provided friction, albeit nominal amounts.

But the Pearl of the Stars was not traversing a well trodden path. It was cutting a swathe through Jump Space and could, quite literally, end up anywhere.

She checked the clock. 22.13 ship time. She knew she ought to make an attempt at sleep. In ten hours, the Pearl would exit Jump Space and there was no way of knowing what they would be walking into. All being well, it would be an empty star system, completely devoid of life, and there would be a chance to get their bearings, and attempt to discover exactly where they were, at least in relation to the Remigro star system. But if Grace knew anything, and certainly if the looked at the evidence of the last few months, things rarely went well.

Grace stood from her bunk and left her quarters. Despite the hour, she still wore her uniform. It would not do for a battlecruiser captain to be seen by her subordinates in anything other. The skirt fell just below her knees, the blouse and jacket were a matching blue. Stockings and stilettos completed the ensemble, and her heels clicked upon the metallic floor as she headed for the Holodeck.

It was a privilege to use the Holodeck, and only senior officers were permitted to do so except on rare occasions. It was situated well below decks, amidships, and as such it took Grace a few minutes to reach it. She was not surprised to find it deserted.

The Holodeck consisted of six chairs, not dissimilar to armchairs, arranged in a circle.

“Victoria star system, Victoria City Park,” she said, as she took a seat in the nearest chair.

The system was fully automated. All it took was a command and once sat, the chair emitted a mild sedative and gave the user the impression they were wherever they wanted to be.

Grace rested her head back, closed her eyes and she was there. The bench upon which she sat felt alien to her buttocks, its wooden slats unfamiliar. She lowered her hands from her lap, and touched the wood. It felt warm, almost homely.

A path ran in front of her. Beyond that was a grassed area and a large pond. Grace glanced to her right and smiled as a group of kids on hover-skates messed around, racing each other. Upon the grass a man threw a frisbee for his dog, who appeared to be rather happy about that.

Upon the pond, ducks swam. A gaggle of geese milled around the far side. At various points around the edge were fisherman. Grace had no idea whether the pond itself was fish rich, but that really was not the point. She had never understood fishing as a recreational activity but at that point she told herself that should she ever return home, she would try it, and fish the Victoria City Park pond.

Grace stayed there, sat upon the bench, for hours. She watched the sunset, as an array of colours and shapes danced upon the water’s surface, and shed a single tear.

The simulation over, Grace opened her eyes and stood. The after effects of the sedative were minimal, certainly nothing a brisk walk to the bridge wouldn’t solve. Another glance at the clock told her it was 06.32 ship time.

Time to get to work.

Captain Frank Holding smiled broadly as he stood proudly upon the bridge of his command, the Nexus. His former vessel, one acquired whilst escaping the clutches of their enemy, had since been decommissioned, its technologically advanced parts cannibalised to keep the rest of the Fleet flying.

Beside him, Major Hynes stood with his arms folded behind his back.

“We’ll get them back, Frank,” he said, quietly.

“Too fickling right,” replied Holding, gruffly. “We’ve lost too many damn people of late, what with the war, and those ficklers who got you and me. I’m ficked if I’m losing Grace and the Pearl, too.”

“The Rising Sun for you, Sir.”

“On screen, Lieutenant.”

“Aye Sir, on screen.”

“Senna,” said Holding, saluting the image of his fellow Captain.

“Frank,” she replied, as she returned his salute.

“Problem?” he asked, noting the look upon her face.

“It seems so, yes,” she replied.

“Another mutiny?”

“Not as such. More, an unwillingness to follow orders.”

“How many are we talking?”

“Put it this way,” she said, carefully. “You have my complete and total support, and that of my crew. But other than that, a single vessel.”

“Tell me it’s a damn MRV.” His lip curled angrily as he slammed his fist into the console.

“The Calypso, yes,” Senna Karavel replied.

“Thank fick for that.”

“What of the rest?”

“Fick ’em,” he replied with a shrug. “Let the record show the Council Fleet now consists of four ships. The Rising Sun, the Calypso, the Nexus and the Pearl of the Stars. The rest can fick themselves. We’ll leave them to their own fate.” He paused to light a cigarette before he spoke again.

“Have Captain Jargo fill the Calypso’s fuel tanks. Don’t want to end up stranded.”

“Aye Sir,” said Senna, with a salute.

“Fickling A,” he said. “Let’s go get the Pearl back. Council Fleet, head for Jump Point Delta. Match the Nexus for velocity and position.”

By the time Captain Grace Ifhans reached the Pearl’s bridge, it was a veritable hive of activity. Her various Lieutenants bustled busily around, running checks upon the system, ensuring that everything was in place, and that the vessel was as prepared as she could be.

“Mr Foster.”

“Aye Ma’am,” Foster replied. “Weapons primed, projectiles at the ready. All one hundred percent functional, Ma’am.”

“Mr Holden.”

“Shields and engines at optimum, Ma’am,” said Holden. “We’re ready to run, to attack, or to defend ourselves.”

“Ms Johnson.”

“Aye Ma’am,” replied Johnson with a smile. “Whatever’s waiting for us, I’ve got it under control.”

“Get me the Chief.”

“Aye Ma’am, Deck Chief.”

“Chief,” Grace saluted. “How go your preparations?”

“Ma’am,” he returned the salute. “As well as they can. My pilots are ready to launch at your command.”

“Thank you, Chief,” she replied, smiling.

Just under two hours later, as the Pearl of the Stars prepared to exit Jump Space, Grace allowed herself to entertain the thought, just for a moment, that they were about to appear in the Victoria star system, that seven clicks to the port side, the system’s automated defences would register the Pearl’s signature and permit her safe passage.

“Entering real space in ten.”

“Report!” Grace barked ten seconds later, as the monotonous off-black of Jump Space dissipated. The Pearl’s scanners were already filled with reams of data, as they surveyed the immediate area much more quickly than the human eye could ever hope to accomplish.

Grace was not entirely sure she believe what the scanners said, but nonetheless, a Lieutenant shouted out information, as an aid to confirm the data.

“A five-star system. Multiple worlds, many habitable. Confirmation of organic life.” He paused, as his eyes darted over the screen. “Correction. This is not a five-star system. It’s five separate star systems in hitherto unseen proximity. Each star has several planets in independent orbit.”

“I’m detecting ships,” another Lieutenant took over. “Multiple contacts converging Ma’am.”

“Evasive manoeuvres, Ms Johnson.”

“Aye Ma’am, evasive manoeuvres,” Johnson replied as she flung the Pearl up in relation to the plane of the closest star.

“Message incoming, Ma’am. Unknown origin.”

“Visual,” Grace replied.

“Aye Ma’am, visual.”

To Grace’s surprise, the image on screen was that of a human. A male, heavily tattooed.

“Unknown vessel, this is Commander Hen Riley. You would do well to turn your vessel around, and go back where you came from.”

“Commander, this is Captain Grace Ifhans of the Pearl of the Stars. It is impossible for us to turn around, as our jump drive requires time to recharge.”

“Captain, it’s not that your presence here is unwelcome, but you’ve turned up at a bit of a bad time. Those ships converging upon your vessel will give no quarter.”

“My girl can hold her own, Commander,” Grace replied, slightly offended by his insinuation that the Pearl was less than capable.

“I’m sure she can, Captain.”

“There’s a small cruiser on our six, Ma’am,” said Holden, as he studied the data intently. “I’m registering very little by way of weaponry, but her shields look like they could withstand a damn hypernova. I believe Commander Riley’s transmission originates from there.”

“Those ships, Commander,” Grace began. “They’re not yours?”

“Fick no.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Watch and learn, Commander Hen Riley. Watch and fickling learn.”

“Ma’am?” Emily Johnson turned to face Grace as she spoke, a wide smile spread across her youthful face.

“Aye, Ms Johnson,” said Grace, matching the smile of her pilot. “Bring us about, bow on.”

“With pleasure, Ma’am.”

“How many unfriendlies, Mr Foster?”

“One shy of a dozen, Ma’am.”

The eleven hostile vessels that were currently on attack trajectories were much smaller than the Pearl. Systems showed the few weapons they carried were indeed powerful ones.

“Weapons room. Fire projectiles. Give the bastards a distraction.”

“Aye Ma’am,” the reply came over the com from the weapons room. “Firing projectiles.”

“Progress report, Mr Holden.”

“Manoeuvre eighty percent complete, Ma’am,” Holden replied, as slight vibrations throughout the Pearl indicated the projectile weapons had been fired. “Ninety percent. They’re focusing all of their fire upon the projectiles.”

“Prepare to release nets.”

“Aye Ma’am,” replied Foster. “Preparing to release nets on your command.”

The nets, were just that. An electromagnetic lattice that would disable any vessel with which it made contact.

“Half a click and closing, Ma’am,” Holden informed her. “They’re coming in fast and hot. Weapons primed, definitely going for the kill.”

“Wait for it,” said Grace, with just enough volume for those on the bridge to hear. “Hold fast.”

“Two hundred feet, Ma’am,” said Holden, “give or take.”

“Release the nets! Ms Johnson, forwards and down.”

“Aye Ma’am,” replied Johnson as the vessel accelerated as per Captain Ifhans’ direction. From the rear the nets released. Several of them, more than was entirely necessary to ensure the job was done at the first time of asking.

“Deck Chief.”

“Aye Ma’am,” a Lieutenant replied, busying herself carrying out her Captain’s command. “Deck Chief.”

“Ma’am,” the Chief’s image on screen showed his salute.

“Chief, send your boys and girls out for a jaunt. Nothing fancy. Blow the power cores.”

“Aye Ma’am,” he replied, smiling as a kid at Christmas. “With pleasure.”

“Good hunting, Chief.”

Three ships approached Jump Point Delta, of the star system designated Remigro. A battleship and battlecruiser, the Nexus and the Rising Sun respectively, and an MRV, or Mobile Repair Vehicle, the Calypso. Captain Frank Holding watched his mini-flotilla, pretty much all that remained of the Council Fleet, on the radar display as they made their final approach.

He’d expected better from the rest of his fellow captains, not that he would have admitted so publicly, not to his crew at any rate. After all Captain Ifhans had done for them, they considered her unworthy of rescue. Of course, Frank knew that Grace was more than capable of looking out for herself, and the Pearl of the Stars was, without question, the envy of the Fleet. But even so, he would have thought that as each and every person in the Remigro star system owed their lives to her, they would not have been quite so blazè.

He thought back to the days of old, which in fairness were not that distant. He’d have had Hynes kill each and every one of the traitorous scum, for that’s what they were. Cowards. Traitors. Things were different now though. This was not a time of war. Captain Grace Ifhans had seen to that.

“Thirty seconds to jump, Sir,” said a Lieutenant, snapping Frank from his reminiscence. “Estimate a sixteen hour jump.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he replied. He’d not jumped since the Fleet’s arrival in the Remigro system, and was grateful for a short hop to reacquaint himself with what was, quite frankly, an extremely disconcerting experience.

“On your command, Sir.”

“Rising Sun, Calypso. This is the Nexus,” he spoke over the Fleet-wide coms. “Jump when ready.”