Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home
The Chair

Two fighters touched down, amidst a small copse of trees the pilots hoped would be suitable camouflage. Having been up in the air for almost twelve hours, both Spark and Whistler were in desperate need of a little exercise.

They were on the opposite side of the planet to where the Pearl was docked. The docks were situated in a highly industrial and commercial area, whereas the side Spark and Whistler had set down was lush green forests, enormous undulating plains, vast sprawling mountain ranges and several large bodies of fresh water.

“Smoke?” asked Spark, as the pilots alighted their respective planes.

Whistler nodded, and caught the cigarette Spark threw to her. “Thanks.”

“I’ve gotta’ say,” said Spark, pausing to light his own cigarette, “this is fickling pissing me off. I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m all for replaceing the Cap’n, but we’ve scoured every fickling inch of this shit-fickling planet, and best I can tell she ain’t here.”

“Well what do you suggest, Spark?” his companion asked as her hair moved gently in the breeze.

“I reckon we should get back to the Pearl and get the fick out there. If she was down here, we’d have found her or at least picked up some sign of her.”

“I’m with you, I am,” Whistler replied. “But we’ve got our orders.”

“The Cap’n ain’t down here, Whistler,” Spark insisted. “I say that once we’ve got feeling back in our behinds, we head back.”

“Fine,” she said, “but it’s on you. I ain’t taking the rap for your impatience.”

“Duly noted.”

Moments later the two fighters were back in the sky, heading up into the atmosphere. The few clouds that there were, did little to slow them down. In fact they didn’t slow their pace, until the radar of both vessels blinked, indicating there was something else up there with them.

“I make that one of ours,” said Whistler, over the com.

“Roger that, Whistler,” Spark replied.

“Chief on the wire for you, Sir,” said Mr Holden, nodding towards Commander Riley.

“Thank you, Mr Holden.”

“Putting the call through to your console, Sir.”

“What can I do for you, Chief?” Hen asked, when the Chief’s image appeared upon the screen in front of him.

“Fighters ready for your inspection, Sir,” the Chief replied.

“Is it standard practise amongst your fleet, Chief, for a CO to inspect fighter planes hours before any potential engagement?”

“Aye it is, Sir,” said the Chief. He was lying, of course. Captain Ifhans knew better than to meddle in the Chief’s business and so long as he continued to deliver results, he knew that’d remain to be the case. “Grace likes to make sure everything is as it should be, one hundred percent of the time.”

“Fine,” Hen sighed, heavily. “I shall be on deck shortly, Chief.”

“Aye Sir, thank you Sir.”

“You have the bridge, Mr Holden,” said Hen, as he terminated the call.

“Aye Sir.” Holden saluted, and Hen marched smartly from the bridge, heading down one of the three corridors that led from it.

Once he was gone, Mr Holden bolted, running at full speed down one of the other corridors, one that he knew, full well, would result in his arrival on the starboard deck a full thirty-five seconds before Commander Riley.

“Mr Holden, Sir,” the Chief said, saluting as Holden rushed onto the deck.

“No time for that, Chief. Riley’s on his way.”

“Mr Foster is laying in wait, Sir,” replied the Chief. “Might I suggest you get yourself out of sight?”

As Holden hid himself behind a bulkhead, Commander Riley arrived on the starboard deck.

“Officer on deck!” The Chief saluted smartly, a gesture Hen returned.

“Right then, Chief,” said Riley. “I’m a busy man. Let’s have a look at your fighters, shall we?”

“Aye Sir, the chief replied with a smile, leading Hen towards the bank of nine fighters. Beside each stood a pilot in full dress uniform. As the two walked the line, Hen smiled, nodding approvingly where it was appropriate.

“Everything appears to be in order, Chief,” said Hen, holding out his hand to shake that of the other man. “Your fighters and pilots are a credit to you, Sir.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the Chief said, keeping eye contact with the man whilst from behind, Mr Foster approached with no small amount of stealth. “They’ll serve you well, Sir, in any engagement you see fit to send them into.”

“Happy to hear it, Chief,” Riley nodded. “Now, if you’ll...”

Commander Riley never finished that sentence for at that very moment, Mr Foster touched the taser to his neck. Several hundred volts of electricity ran through his body and he fell, twitching, to the floor.

“Good job, Mr Foster,” said Holden as he made his way from the hiding spot behind the bulkhead. “Now, let’s get this bastard to the chair, before he wakes the fick up.”

Grace’s wrists were cut to shreds. She’d spent the better part of a day attempting to free herself from her bonds.

She was getting there, loosening the twine that held her despite the pain, as adrenaline flooded her body.

Eventually her hands were free, and she leaned forward, her tired fingers scrabbling at the ties that bound her ankles.

It was much easier than freeing her wrists, and in less than a minute Grace got unsteadily to her feet.

To the best of her knowledge there was only one exit from the room, and that’s what she headed for. She did so slowly at first, as her legs didn’t feel like her own. By the time she reached the door though, she felt much more able. Not one hundred percent by any stretch of the imagination, but she could walk without feeling the need to vomit.

She was surprised when the door opened at her first attempt, though she was not about to complain.

Through the door, Grace was outside. Four suns were bright in the sky, though one loomed particularly large.

Other than the building she’d come from, a large shack of some kind, there was only one other she could see. A brick building, with a couple of large windows. She headed quickly towards it and inside. The building had only a couple of rooms, one of which was a bathroom. The other seemed to be some kind of communal office-cum-living room, with a small kitchenette, too.

Having used the facilities, Grace turned her attention to the computer console. She hit a couple of keys at random, and the screen flashed from its sleep mode.

Upon the screen was a list of what Grace assumed to be Danielle Casper’s targets. It was a long damn list and Grace shook her head, slowly.

“Whistler! Spark!” Emily barked into the com as the two planes came into sight. “Please tell me that’s you!”

“It is, Ms Johnson,” was Sparks’ reply a moment later.

“Chief gave you Six?” Whistler asked, unnecessarily. “I hope you’ve been unclogging the filters regularly enough.”

“I know what I’m doing, pilot.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“What brings you out here, Ma’am?” Sparks asked.

“Originally to search for Captain Ifhans,” she replied. “Though it’s pretty clear she’s not here.”

“I agree, Ma’am,” replied Whistler. “We’ve searched pretty much the entire planet.”

“In which case, we should head back to the Pearl, and remove Commander Riley from command.”

“He’s taken over?”

“According to the Chief, yes.”

“Captain Ifhans won’t be too happy about that, if he’s still in charge when we replace her.”

“No, Sparks,” said Emily. “She won’t.”

The Chair was no different in appearance to any standard chair. It was made of metal, and was incredibly uncomfortable. It was contained within a large room, along with a table and similar chair.

Hen Riley awoke with a start as a glass of cool water was poured over his head. He instantly struggled against the handcuffs holding him to the chair. When he realised that was a futile exercise, he looked across the table at Mr Holden and Mr Foster, in anger.

“What is the damn meaning of this?” he demanded.

“We’re interrogating you,” Holden replied, nodding to the wall at Riley’s right, where recording equipment was assembled.

“On what grounds?”

“It’s my feeling, and that of Mr Holden and the Chief, too,” Mr Foster began, “that you’re not entirely on the level, Commander. And, as Captain Ifhans’ second in command, it’s my duty to ensure everything on the Pearl of the Stars runs as smoothly as it should. That includes locating the Captain.”

“I will not stand for such insubordination!”

“You really don’t have a choice, Sir. The interrogation is well under way,” said Holden. “A team of techs are analysing your brainwaves as we speak.”

“You’re reading my mind?” Riley was shocked, understandably, and made no effort to hide the fact.

“We deem it necessary to do so,” said Foster, flatly, turning at the knock upon the door. “And it appears the results are in, Sir.”

“Your Captain will hear of this, the way I’ve been treated.”

“I’m sure she will,” Holden said, as Foster ushered the tech into the room.

At Holden’s nod, the tech cleared her throat, and proceeded.

“The results of the test are inconclusive.”

That was definitely not the response either Foster or Holden had been expecting, and both officers stared at the tech in shock.

“Inconclusive?” Foster found his voice first, grimacing at the smile upon Riley’s face.

“If you’ll let me finish, Sirs?”

“Of course, technician. Please go on.”

“There’s much evidence of disjointed patterns. Blocking and re-routing, that sort of thing.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Mr Holden, that as best I can tell, Commander Riley has been brainwashed.”

Foster put a finger to his ear, and listened intently for a moment.

“Ms Johnson is back on deck, as are Spark and Whistler.”

“Any sign of the Captain?”

“No, she’s not on the planet. She must have been taken elsewhere,” replied Mr Foster. “Mr Holden, put Commander Riley in the brig. Until we replace Grace he isn’t going anywhere.”

Grace scrolled down the list upon the screen, unable to believe what she was seeing. She did not recognise the names of the planets, which was no surprise to her, but they were great in number. She didn’t know exactly how big a population each world had, either, but she guessed that if all those targets were met, the death toll would number in the tens of millions.

“It’ll be a lot dead, if those attacks happen.”

Grace had not heard Danielle Casper enter the room, but she spun immediately at the woman’s voice, expecting her to be armed and ready. She was not, though. As far as Grace could tell, she didn’t even have a weapon concealed.

“What’s going on, Danielle?”

“The list there, my people hacked from the Allied Worlds systems. Every planet you see named is a Diamantra world.”

“You’re saying that the Allied Worlds intend to destroy the Diamantra? To attack, unprovoked?”

“Not unprovoked, no,” Danielle shook her head, slowly. “Quintus was at war when we arrived, Grace, and we offered our services. We quickly realised though that we were on the wrong side. The Diamantra want nothing more than a piece of the star systems, a place to call their own. The Allied Worlds want everyone under their rule, and getting rid of the Diamantra is the only logical way to do that.”

“OK,” Grace mused. “Let’s say I believe you. Why do you want the Pearl?”

“My ship suffered heavy, irreparable damage, when we arrived. The Pearl is a powerful vessel, Grace, and quite possibly the only hope for Quintus.”

“Then why kidnap me? Why not just come to me?”

“Had I shown my face, the Allied Worlds would’ve made certain I could never do so again. Taking you hostage was not the only way to contact you, but it was certainly the easiest.”

Grace stared into the woman’s face. Her years spent in the Quintus system had not been kind to her. She looked old, exhausted, and well ready to be put out to pasture.

“The first step is to contact the Pearl of the Stars, and let them know I’m alive. Then we’ll arrange a pick-up, and go from there.”

“Officer on deck!” Mr Foster shouted, snapping off a salute as he welcomed Emily Johnson back on board the Pearl. Each thought of themselves as Grace’s second in command and in truth they were, though it was a position they shared.

“What news, Mr Foster?” Emily replied, returning his salute with one equally as smart.

“Commander Riley is in custody. Mr Holden is locking him in the brig as we speak. It appears he has undergone some kind of brainwashing.”

“Do we know where he was taking the Pearl?”

“No Ma’am,” a Lieutenant chimed in. “Not exactly, but it appears the Pearl’s trajectory would have taken us to one of the worlds orbiting the White Giant.”

“At least that narrows it down,” she replied. “I think it’s safe to assume that Grace is on one of those worlds.”

“Incoming message, Ma’am,” said the Lieutenant. “It’s encrypted.”

“Run the programme, and put it up.”

“Aye Ma’am, running the programme.”

It took nearly a minute for the decryption software to work its magic. The programme complete, Grace’s image appeared on screen.

“Captain,” Emily saluted. “It’s you!”

“It is, Emily,” Grace replied, returning the salute.

“Are you hurt? Whereabouts are you? Lieutenant, prepare to set a course.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

“I’m fine, Ms Johnson, and don’t worry, you’ll have my coordinates when this transmission ends.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

“When you’re making your way here, you need the fighters to act as support. Work them on a shift pattern. Six on, six off, and don’t trust the Allied Worlds.”

“Funny you should mention that, as we have Hen Riley in the brig.”

“Good,” Grace smiled, “good. I must end this transmission now, before they have a chance to lock onto it. As I say, you’ll have my coordinates in a moment.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Be quick, Emily,” Grace said, quietly, “and be careful.”