Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home

Wearing regulation sweats, Captain Senna Karavel panted, perspiring a fair amount. She remained on her feet though, which was more than could be said for her sparring partner, a petty officer a few years her junior.

Senna offered her hand and the woman accepted it gratefully.

“Thanks, Ma’am,” she said, breathlessly.

“No need for that in here,” replied Senna. “We’ll do this again soon, and next time perhaps you’ll remember not to keep leaving yourself open to attack.”

“Next time, Ma’am?” The junior officers always considered it quite the honour when those above their station asked them to spar.

“Aye, of course,” Senna chuckled. “We’ll have you kicking the fick out of me before you know it.”

“I’d be honoured, Ma’am.”

“Your presence is required on the bridge, Ma’am,” said a Lieutenant over the ship-wide com. “It’s Captain Jargo, he says it’s urgent.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she replied, nodding to her still breathless sparring partner as she swiftly exited the Rising Sun’s gymnasium. “I’ll be there in ten.”

In spite of the fact Captain Den Jargo’s message was apparently urgent and she knew that she really ought not keep him waiting, Senna was in desperate need of a shower and to put on her uniform. Besides, it’s not as though the Calypso could have come under attack. Her Lieutenants would have informed her long before now had any potentially hostile vessels jumped into the star system.

It was most likely that he wanted to ask her a question with regard to her current stock levels, and as there was still a good few hours before the Calypso needed to leave the moon and head towards the jump point to rendezvous with the Nexus and the Rising Sun, a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Of course, she knew full well that Den would be frantic because that was the kind of man he was. A fickling good mechanic, sure, but he truly believed that any situation, no matter how easily solved, would result in the worst outcome imaginable.

She arrived upon the bridge of her vessel, freshly showered and wearing a clean, crisp uniform, and immediately commanded a call be put through to the Calypso. When he answered the call, Den Jargo was just as flustered as she’d expected.

“Captain Jargo,” she said, jovially, knowing full well that she’d taken longer than the ten minutes she’d said she would be. “What can I do for you?”

“My engineers have found something, Captain, that you may find rather interesting,” he replied, the expression upon his face betraying his calm tone. “A survival pod, jettisoned from an unknown vessel.”

“A survival pod?” Jargo’s words piqued Senna Karavel’s interest immediately. “Our initial scans picked up no evidence of such a thing.”

“The signal is very weak. We didn’t register it until we were upon it.”

“Is it one of ours?”

“That’s a negative, Senna. My boys and girls say it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen.”

“Does Frank know about this?”

“Aye, he said I was to leave it to your discretion, as to what to do with it.”

Senna paused for a moment’s thought. A survival pod of unknown origins upon a moon in a star system that had never supported life.

“Bring it with you, Den, in quarantine,” she said, finally. “No one is to touch it once it’s on board, and under no circumstances should anyone attempt to reverse the stasis field.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“We’ll make a firm decision directly following our next jump,” she continued, and then as an afterthought, added, “providing we don’t run into any trouble, of course.”

“Is there any reason to expect we will run into trouble?” Den asked in reply.

“We’re a long way from home, Captain Jargo, in an area of space completely unknown to us. The jump after this, will take us into a system the Rising Sun traversed on Captain Ifhans’ order and I know each system on that particular route turned up no signs of life whatsoever, but we can ill afford to take anything for granted.” She paused, noting his pupils as they visibly dilated. “Don’t worry, Den. You just get yourself and that pod to the jump point and Frank and I will deal with any trouble that comes our way.”

“Aye Ma’am,” he replied, saluted, and terminated the transmission.

“The Nexus, Lieutenant.”

“Aye Ma’am, the Nexus,” he replied. “Putting you through now.”

“Senna,” said Frank Holding, upon taking the call. “You’ve spoken to Den?”

“Aye Frank, I have,” she replied, pausing for a moment to light a cigarette. “Pretty interesting find.”

“Aye,” he replied with a chuckle. “Didn’t believe him to be honest, not the first time anyway. You got any ideas?”

“I’d rather not speculate,” said Senna. “When we reach the next star system you and I should head on over to the Calypso with our best techs and see what they make of it.”

“Aye, good call,” he replied. “Besides, Den might be a worrier but he’s a sensible enough chap. If I know him he’s already got the damn thing quarantined.”

***

Grace Ifhans sat alone at the table for two, out on the veranda overlooking a section of what was, quite frankly, a beautiful cityscape. She’d purposely arrived early because that was how she worked. She didn’t like to be surprised and by turning up a full ten minutes before she and Hen Riley had arranged, it gave her control of the situation, rather than the other way around.

Apart from those eight months in the Remigro star system, it was the first time Grace had been planet-side since she’d left Victoria II, aboard the Pearl.

She discounted time spent on Remigro III, because it had never truly felt like home. But here, on one of the Quintus star system’s many worlds, she felt comfortable. Odd, really, as there was nothing particularly familiar about it. Civilisation though, that was the key.

She caught Hen’s eye as he came out onto the veranda, and noted a slightly disheartened look upon his face when he realised she was already waiting for him.

The man has so many pros, she thought, it’s impossible for me not to like him.

She stood as he approached, and they shared a salute combined with what can only be described as a look of longing, before Hen indicated she should resume her seated position.

“Wine?” a waiter asked, before either had a chance to speak.

“Yes, erm,” Hen stammered. Clearly, he was off his game, and a little shaken that Grace had been waiting for him.

“The house wine will be fine,” said Grace with a wry smile, as she came to his rescue. She was not the kind of woman who let her emotions show. Quite often, she knew, she went out of her way to ensure they did not. But she and Emily had spent hours selecting her outfit for the evening. She looked good, very fickling good, and she knew it. It made a change for her to be wearing something other than her uniform, and she intended to make the most of it.

“I’m sorry I was here first,” she said, kindly. It was a lie, but she did not let on as such. She’d had every intention of arriving first. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t mind, not at all,” Hen replied with a smile. That too, was a lie, albeit a white one. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “But it’s nothing more than a simple dress. You look incredibly handsome, too.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, as the waiter returned with a bottle of house wine, a rosé, and two glasses.

“Are you ready to order,” he asked, “or do you need a little more time.”

Hen glanced across the table, and noted the slightest shrug of Grace’s shoulders.

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” he said to the waiter. “Whatever Chef recommends.”

“An excellent choice Sir,” the waiter replied, with a nod. “Ma’am.”

Grace and Hen sat there, upon the veranda, enjoying a rather awkward silence. At least the view was such a beautiful one. Grace watched as on the street far below, people and vehicles went about their business. The vehicles were similar in appearance to the cars with which she was familiar, but they were silent. Even from such a distance, Grace would have expected to hear traffic noise.

“They’re all solar powered,” said Hen, as if he was reading her mind. “Sunlight is something the Quintus system is never short of so it was the obvious solution. Besides, fossil fuels are almost non-existent here.”

She turned back to him and smiled, noting the way his eyes glinted in the light from the two stars that currently influenced the planet.

“Tell me, Hen,” she said, “the political situation here. How does it work, exactly?”

“There are three factions that each occupy a region of the star system. There’s us, the Allied Worlds, the largest region. Our influence covers every planet in orbit around the two stars you see now and the White Giant that’s behind us,” replied Hen, quite obviously happy to have a topic of conversation that he could get his teeth stuck into. “Then, there’s the Diamantra, the only major threat to Allied Worlds’ rule. They hold sway over the planets in orbit around the Red Dwarf, and many occupied worlds of the final star, another White Giant. They’re terrorists, plain and simple.”

“It was the Diamantra whose vessels we destroyed upon our arrival?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It was.”

“And the third faction?”

“Not so much a faction, I suppose, as a small cluster of worlds who want the freedom to rule themselves.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I agree, as does the Allied Worlds Government,” he continued. “The Diamantra though, have other ideas. They want all worlds of the Quintus star system to be under their control and will stop at nothing to accomplish that goal.”

“I see,” replied Grace, extremely worried about how familiar the Diamantra’s mission statement sounded.

“There is an alliance of sorts, between the Allied Worlds and those worlds who want to rule themselves. It’s unofficial, but we’ve always gone to their aid when the Diamantra attack, which the frequently do.”

“There are many other star systems, Hen,” said Grace. “What’s so special about this one? Why, for example, don’t the Diamantra, up and leave?”

“Honour, I suppose,” he replied with a grin. “That, and downright bloody mindedness. Same as the Allied Worlds. Same as the others. This is all we’ve ever known. This is home.”

“Well,” she replied, “I can relate to that.”

Their food arrived, and the topic of conversation switched. They discussed what life was like for them both growing up. Both had done so in times of war, and so there were many similarities.

Their careers had taken similar paths, though as Hen was a few years older than Grace, it was as though she’d followed in his footsteps, albeit footsteps star systems apart.

Hen had a sister, Calla, who’d been captured, tortured and killed, by the Diamantra. He’d never seen her body, but he knew she was dead in his heart of hearts.

“Dessert?” he asked, as the waiter cleared their empty plates, and brought another bottle of wine.

“Yes, thank you,” Grace replied. “But first, I must visit the ladies room.”

“It’s around the bar, towards the rear,” said Hen, helpfully, as she got to her feet.

She walked quickly through the restaurant, smiling to herself at the many couples enjoying what were, quite clearly, romantic dates. There was a birthday party, too, with balloons and what looked to Grace to be a particularly delicious cake.

She almost walked straight into another woman as she entered the bathroom, and made her apologies as she stepped to the side, allowing the lady in question to pass.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

It was not until Grace had used the facilities, and was in the process of exiting her cubicle of choice that she thought about that woman again. The only reason she did was because the woman was standing opposite the now open cubicle door, leaning against the sinks that ran the full length of the bathroom with a smile upon her face.

“Can I help you?” Grace asked.

“No, dear,” the woman replied with a grin. Grace felt a hefty blow to the back of her head, and she stumbled forwards to her knees, putting her hands to the floor to stop her fall. She looked up into the woman’s face as she lifted a boot in preparation. “And no one can help you, either.”

With that, the boot connected powerfully with Grace’s face, and she blacked out.