Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home
Ten Light

Emily Johnson made her way towards the Pearls starboard deck. Communications were still down, as were the vessel’s engines. Even the lighting was intermittent and had she not known the ship’s interior so well, even the emergency lights would not have been enough to stop her walking into the occasional bulkhead.

She was furious that the local authorities had seen fit to disable the Pearl of the Stars, especially at such a time when Captain Ifhans was missing. Emily needed to be out there, searching for Grace. She was Captain of the vessel, saviour of the Council and above all else, her best friend.

“Ma’am,” said the Chief, saluting as he saw her approach.

She shook her head quickly, and he lowered his arm., a questioning look upon her face.

“I’m here unofficially, Chief,” she said, glancing around quickly to ensure her arrival on the deck had been witnessed by no one else. “My presence here is known only by Mr Holden, and yourself.”

“Fair enough,” the Chief replied. “What can I do for you, Ms Johnson?”

“The two planes you sent out,” she began, “I assume they’re still out there?”

“Aye,” he replied.

“And you’re in contact with your pilots?”

“Coms are down, Ma’am,” the Chief grinned widely.

“Well, assuming you needed to get into contact with them?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’d replace a way, Ma’am.”

“Good,” replied Emily, as she lit a cigarette. “Have your planes on deck been affected by our troubles?”

“Nope,” he smiled, accepting the proffered cigarette. “My planes are completely independent.”

“I need to be out there, Chief,” she said, pausing to breathe smoke from her nostrils. “I can’t just wait around here, until whoever gives the damn orders decides to release the Pearl. I have to replace Grace.”

“Take Six,” he said, nodding towards the nearest fighter. “She’s fully fuelled. Should be good for eighty hours flight, give or take.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

“No worries, Ms Johnson,” he replied. “She’s fitted with a short-wave radio, too. If you’re within fifty-five clicks, you’ll be able to contact me directly.”

Moments later, the fighter blasted from the deck, along the launch tunnel, and out into the Kargõsian atmosphere. More by luck than design, the Pearl was positioned with her starboard side facing planet-wards, which meant a vessel as small as Six, could easily escape unnoticed.

“If anyone asks, Chief,” she began to say, over the com.

“Aye,” he interrupted. “I never saw you. Good hunting, Ms Johnson.”

The Nexus, the Rising Sun and the Calypso, headed towards the only viable Jump Point the star system contained. Their pace was reasonable, a little shy of half the speed of light. Such a velocity was useless during a battle but they weren’t fighting yet. That pace would allow the systems of all three vessels to detect even the slightest alterations in velocity and trajectory exhibited by the alien fleet. Due to the vast distances involved though, there would be a delay in such detections and that delay could well mean the difference between life and death. Battleship and battlecruiser commanders were taught how to allow for the delay, which got less and less as distances were closed. It was by no means an exact science though, and it was incredibly easy to get caught out.

“They’re coming about, Sir,” said Lieutenant Jones, her eyes fixed upon the radar display. “Current trajectory puts them on an intercept course at the Jump Point.”

“Closing speed?” Captain Holding asked.

“One-Two light, Sir,” Fiona replied, which meant their enemy was travelling slightly faster than they were.

“Any chance that’s their top speed?”

“I’d say not, Sir. From what I can tell, they’re not even operating at half their available power.”

“That doesn’t bode fickling well!”

“No Sir.”

“If we keep our current course, how close to the star are we?”

“Fifteen thousand clicks at our closest point, Sir,” she replied. “Give or take.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Frank as he lit a cigarette. “Get me the Rising Sun.”

“Aye Sir, the Rising Sun.”

“Frank,” said Senna Karavel, saluting as soon as her image appeared on screen.

“Senna,” he said, returning the salute. “What’s your assessment?”

“That we’re going to get ripped to shreds at the Jump Point,” she replied with a shrug. “There’s what, two-hundred plus versus the Rising Sun and the Nexus? I don’t know about you, Frank, but I don’t like those odds.”

“They’ve left the other Jump Point wide open,” said Frank.

“Purposely, I’d wager.”

“Perhaps, but we can still get out that way.”

“What’re you thinking, Frank?”

“I’m thinking that if we slingshot around that star, the radiation should offer us enough cover to accelerate to Two-Five light. We’ll be halfway to the Jump Point before that fleet comes about.”

“That’s fickling risky, Frank. We’d have to go down to emergency power to ensure our shields hold up.”

“Should be fine so long as we don’t get any closer than a hundred and fifty clicks, one sixty to err on the side of caution.”

“Aye,” Senna chuckled, as there was certainly nothing cautious about Captain Holding’s plan. “I like it, Frank. It’s fickling crazy, but I like it.”

“I’ll have Lieutenant Jones send over the required course adjustments,” said Frank, pausing to take a drag on his cigarette. “Let’s hope the bastards don’t realise what we’re doing before we pull this off, eh?”

“Aye,” she said, and Frank Holding cut the transmission.

“The Calypso, Lieutenant.”

“Aye Sir, the Calypso.”

“Den, I’m sending course adjustments to you now,” said Frank, once the two Captains had shown respect by way of a shared salute. He waited for a moment, allowing time for Den Jargo to study the information.

“You sure, Frank?”

“Not even close, Den, but you got a better idea?”

“You make a fair point.”

“You’ll have to crank all the power you’ve got into your shields.”

“Even then, there’s no guarantees.”

“Never said there was, Den. During the pass, jettison the survival pod into the star. That should give the ficklers something else to think about.”

“Aye Sir.”

As he lit another cigarette, Frank studied the image of the star system intently. He knew full well that what he, Senna, and Den, were about to do, was nothing short of bat-crap crazy, but sometimes a given situation called for a crazy solution.

There were few reports in the Nexus′ archives of vessels surviving a slingshot manoeuvre around a star, and that was only one of a number of reasons such a thing was rarely attempted.

A star’s gravity was an intense force, second only to that of a black hole and passing so closely was going to be very dangerous indeed. During the pass, the three vessels would reach a speed at least twenty-five times the speed of light in order for them to escape the star and hit the required Two-Five velocity. Frank certainly expected there to be several breaches in the Nexus′ hull, and those of the Calypso and the Rising Sun, too, but those hull breaches paled in insignificance when it came to the intense heat those on board would have to contend with.

Even with shields at maximum power, temperatures on board would likely reach six-hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Five minutes, Frank estimated, he and his crew, and those of the other two vessels, would be able to withstand such a high, and that was survival with minor burns at the very least. Any longer than that, and their bodies would likely boil.

“It’s not going to be pretty, Frank,” said Major Hynes, as if he was reading the mind of the Captain as he, too, studied the display.

“Do I look like the kinda’ bloke who deals in pretty, Major?” Frank replied, forcing a chuckle. “I need every single soul on this ship with at least three bulkhead doors between them and the hull,” he paused, and turned to Hynes. “Can I leave that in your capable hands, Major Hynes?”

“Aye Sir,” Hynes replied.

Hen Riley stepped out into the early morning light cast by the three suns. He shielded his eyes for a moment, to allow his retinas to adjust. Checking his pockets, he found his cigarettes and a lighter.

The last few hours felt like a blur, and he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He knew he’d been held captive, but where and by whom was unclear. He’d been released outside the front of an office building, but had been tranqued for the duration of the journey from where he’d been held.

Physically, he was fine. A few bruises and a particularly nasty gash on his forehead, but he’d had much worse than that.

He needed to get to the Pearl of the Stars, to replace Grace, and he needed to do both, quickly.

Senna Karavel struggled to focus upon her screen, as the Rising Sun accelerated to speeds for which she’d not been designed to withstand.

All around her, her beloved vessel was protesting mightily, as she fought against one of the most powerful forces in the Universe.

Seven-Two light.

It was going to get much worse, and already the searing heat was more than she could comfortably handle.

Seven-Nine light.

“Port rear engine down!” Senna had no idea whose voice it was, that shouted out above the deafening noise as her vessel rapidly approached eight and a half times the speed of light.

Eight-Three light.

“We’ve lost the dampeners!”

“Held out longer than I thought!” she almost screamed to make herself heard.

Nine-Two light.

“Both port engines down!”

“The Calypso’s too close! She’s losing altitude!”

“Put me through!”

Den Jargo’s image appeared on the screen in front of her. The picture was incredibly jumpy though, the connection weak to say the least, due to the massive amounts of solar radiation both the Calypso and the Rising Sun, were having to endure.

“Den!”

“Senna... lost all... one engine!” he yelled in reply, and although Senna only caught the odd word, she most definitely got the gist of what her fellow Captain was saying.

“Pull out!” she yelled in reply. “Pull the fick out!”

“Negative... airlock burned.... survival pod... destroyed..!”

Nine-Nine light.

The Rising Sun was no longer operating under her own power. It was the intense gravity of the star, that was causing her to accelerate further.

“Den!” she yelled as the screen fizzed blank, but he was gone, the connection terminated, and it was all Senna could do to watch as on the radar, the blip indicating the Calypso’s position in space, disappeared, and with it, the alien survival pod.

Ten light.

“Fick a brick!”

Grace Ifhans remained stoic as punch after punch, blow after blow, connected with her jaw. Without need to check her reflection, she knew that her face was a bloody mess. At least four of her teeth had been knocked out, and claret was pouring down her chin, soaking the once-white blouse of her dress uniform.

She could smell her own blood, and it was nauseating. She refused, however, to give her aggressors the privilege and pleasure, of seeing her pain.

Her vision was impaired, due to the swollen tissue surrounding her eyes, and she couldn’t be sure exactly how many individuals were involved in her beat-down. She could pick out two separate voices though, both of which were male, though she recognised neither.

She’d lost all concept of time, but all of her recent memories were ones of pain. Awful, terrible, pain.

“Grace Ifhans,” she spluttered, spitting blood as she spoke. “Captain.”

Yet more blows rained down upon her, from both sides, and she was pretty sure she felt her jaw dislocate.

“Grace Ifhans,” she repeated, giving no more than her name and rank. “Captain.”

“Enough!”

Grace recognised that female voice yet she could not quite place it, and for a second she was relieved, before she realised that it belonged to the person directly responsible for her current condition.

“She’ll give no more than that, her conditioning is too strong.”

“Aye Ma’am,” one of the two original voices replied. She readied herself to receive another rally of blows, but none came. Instead, the sweet relief of cool water upon a damp cloth, as it soothed her wounds.

“Just tell me what I want to know, Grace,” the woman said, kindly. “Give me the Pearl’s access codes, and I’ll end this quickly.”

Grace made her best attempt to work out exactly who it was that was talking, asking for codes that would allow complete access to the Pearl of the Stars, and all of her systems. Her eyes would not do as she wanted, though, and all she could see was the vague shape of a person, with an incredibly familiar yet nigh-implacable voice.

“A bullet to the back of your head,” she continued. “You won’t feel a thing.”

“Fick you!” she spat, as blood bubbled at her lips. “Who the fick are you?”

“I’m hurt, Grace. After all we went through together.”

“Stop fickling around!”

“You made a severe judgemental error, when you ordered all ships in the Fleet to engage their jump drives in the Ryban star system,” she carried on. “Vessels were scattered all over the Universe, throughout all time. I’ve been in this wretched excuse for an abomination of a star system for ten years, since the Acquiesce jumped from Ryban.”

“Danielle?”

“Yes, Grace,” Danielle Casper replied. “It’s me, now give me the information I need.”

“Like fick,” Grace spat once again. She judged it just right. As Danielle lowered herself so she was face to face with Grace, she launched her head forwards, and delivered a powerful head butt to the bridge of her nose. “I’m not telling you shit!”