Pearl of the Stars | Far From Home
Quintus

As the Pearl of the Stars headed towards the planet indicated by Commander Hen Riley, her consignment of twelve fighters returned to the deck.

The Chief was waiting as he always did, upon the deck itself. He smiled with much satisfaction and pride as his planes set down and his pilots alighted.

“Smoke ’em if you got ’em, guys,” he said, jovially. It was an old phrase, passed down by the first colonists who, directly following a jump, discovered that nicotine did worlds of good for the jumps after-effects. That was in the old days though, when jump technology was in its infancy and much less stable. Nowadays, the phrase was used more for celebratory purposes. “Spark, Whistler, with me.”

“Aye Chief,” the two pilots saluted, and followed the Chief across the deck to his office. He indicated they should take a seat at the small table, atop which was an ashtray, whilst he lit a cigar for himself.

“You guys looked damn good out there,” he said, as his mouth exuded plumes of thick blue smoke.

“Thanks, Chief,” replied Whistler, her cigarette resting between her lips. “Felt good to be out there again, blowing the fick outta’ bad guys.”

“I’ll second that,” said Spark, cricking his neck as he spoke.

“Good,” the Chief replied. “Now, listen up. You two are the most experienced pilots I got, since we lost twenty-four back when we jumped from Remigro. I need you to be my eyes and ears out there, make sure no one does anything stupid. We’re in a damn abomination of a star system and from what I’ve been able to glean, the political situation here is nothing short of a fick up, so as of this moment, consider yourselves promoted.”

“Flight Leader?”

“Aye,” replied the Chief. “Flight Leader Whistler, Flight Leader Spark. Dismissed.”

The Pearl docked at a large orbital facility around one of the seven planets in orbit around one of the systems five stars. The arrangement was that the Pearls most senior officers, Captain Grace Ifhans, Ms Johnson and Mr Holden, would meet with Commander Hen Riley and three senior political figures of the Allied Worlds.

“The Pearl is yours, Mr Foster,” said Grace with a salute, handing over temporary control of her command. “See to it that the nets are replenished and that all hands carry out their normal duties.”

“Aye Ma’am,” Mr Foster replied, matching the salute of his Captain.

It was almost an hour later that Grace sat at a large, circular conference table with Mr Holden to her left and Emily Johnson, to her right.

Across the table was Hen Riley, and the three representatives from the Allied Worlds who had all been hastily brought in as soon as Commander Riley had informed them of the Pearl’s arrival in the star system.

The three politicians were introduced as Director Robert Howard, Sky-Marshall Ivana Lizst and Deputy Prime Minister Yolan Cummings.

All, Grace thought, were incredibly young for the positions they held. In fact, Commander Riley was the eldest of them and he was in his mid-forties at best.

“We’ll skip the formalities if that’s all right with you,” said Howard, his comment directed at those across the table. “The Quintus star system is at war with itself and our presence is required elsewhere as quickly as possible.”

“Commander Riley tells us you took out several of our enemy’s best fighters in under a minute,” said Lizst. “He tells us, that you and your vessel would make a valuable ally in our attempts to win this war, once and for all.”

Grace glanced at Hen and noted the smirk he had upon his face. Worryingly she found it cute, almost attractive, and did her best to push such thoughts to the back of her mind.

“We’ve never encountered a star system such as this,” said Grace. “In fact, we’d no idea such a thing was possible, for five separate star systems to operate, for all intents and purposes, independently.”

“Our people have been here for generations,” said Cummings. “Hundreds of years, and the war has been going on for almost that long. No man or woman alive can remember a time of peace.”

“You’re fighting for control of all five separate systems?” asked Mr Holden, a question to which the Deputy Prime Minister nodded an answer. “Well, has it not been considered that you and your enemies share? I mean, it’s a big fickling system.”

“It was thought, for a time,” Howard began, “that we would be able to do so. However that is no longer an option.”

Between them, Director Robert Howard, Sky-Marshall Ivana Lizst and Deputy Prime Minister Yolan Cummings, gave a brief history of the Quintus star system, from humanity’s arrival to the Pearl’s appearance.

As best Grace could tell, and certainly without going over the relevant data on her vessel’s computer system, those first settlers that wound up in the Quintus system were originally from Earth, mankind’s ancestral home. How they’d come to be here though, rather than with the rest of their species, was a mystery. Faulty navigation software upon those ancient spaceships perhaps, or maybe some other kind of malfunction.

Perhaps there had been no fault at all, and it had been a long-forgotten order that to double mankind’s chances of survival, two groups would head in two separate directions.

Either way, the Quintus star system was at war, and that was something with which Captain Grace Ifhans, was incredibly familiar.

The Nexus exited the jump point, followed swiftly by the Calypso, and the Rising Sun at the rear. Within nanoseconds of their arrival, the systems of all three vessels began scanning the vicinity, feeding back reams upon reams of data as they scanned further afield.

It was an unfamiliar star system to all and the star itself was a Brown Dwarf. It was unusual for life of any kind to exist in such a star system and this one was no exception. All systems reported no organic life, and no sign of anything more technologically advanced than ore reserves, rich in all three moons orbiting the stars only planet.

“A couple of hours short of three days to skirt the system, Sir,” a Lieutenant said, as Captain Frank Holding surveyed the Nexus′ radar.

“Get me the Calypso.”

“Aye Sir, Calypso on screen.”

“Captain Jargo,” said Frank, as the image of the Calypso’s Captain appeared on screen.

“Captain Holding, Sir,” Jargo replied. Of the three vessel’s Captains Jargo was the eldest, but for some reason or other had never commanded higher than an MRV.

“I’m told it’s a three day hike around this system to our next jump,” said Frank. “Take the Calypso straight to the moon in the highest orbit, and do what you can to replenish your stocks. You should have fifteen hours or so, and then head straight to the jump point. We’ll rendezvous with you there.”

“Aye Sir,” Jargo replied, before adding, “any chance of a fighter escort, Sir?”

“Look around, Den,” said Frank with a chuckle. “There’s nothing here, and there’s no reason to assume that there will be.”

“Aye Sir,” Den Jargo replied, with a salute. Captain Holding cut the transmission.

“The Rising Sun.”

“Aye Sir, the Rising Sun.”

“Senna.”

“Frank,” replied Senna Karavel. “How does it feel, being back out in the big black?”

“Like dropping from orbit,” he replied with a smile. “You never forget your first time.”

“What can I do for you, Frank?”

“You can give your opinion on this Godforsaken system, Captain.”

“It appears as is, Frank,” she replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary for a Brown Dwarf, though I might have expected one, possibly two smaller rocks a bit further out. My techs tell me that the most distant moon was most likely a planetoid, originally, before it came too close and got caught.”

“That sounds about right,” replied Frank, impressed. Senna Karavel was young and hungry, and deserved better than captaining a battlecruiser with nothing to fight.

“I see you’ve sent Den Jargo on a shopping trip.”

“Aye, figure it’ll keep him busy and you never know when we’re going to run out of basic amenities, like rock to make more weapons.”

“True enough,” she smiled a reply.

“Right, Captain,” said Frank, with a salute. “I shall detain you no longer.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Aye Sir,” she returned the salute, and the transmission ended.

As Captain Ifhans left the conference room, a hand caught her arm and she spun around, to see Hen Riley smiling broadly. She indicated to Mr Holden and Ms Johnson that she would catch up to them, doing so with nothing more than a nod, and then gave Hen her full attention.

“Commander Riley,” she said, saluting smartly.

Her reaction seemed to catch Hen unawares, but he recovered splendidly and returned her salute.

“What can I do for you?”

“You can drop the formalities for one,” he replied, the crows feet at his eyes betraying his boyish charm. “I simply want to talk to you.”

“Well,” said Grace, “talk.”

“It’s like this,” he continued. “I can’t help feeling that there’s, something, between us. Now I know what you’re going to say, that a Captain such as yourself can’t be seen to form any kind of unprofessional relationship, as it wouldn’t look good to your crew.”

“You’re exactly right,” replied Grace, calmly, even though every fibre of her being was screaming at her to lean in and kiss the man. “I have seen many a family torn apart by war, Commander, and I have no wish to set myself up for such a fall. Any relationship is a distraction, and that is something neither of us need.”

“Then, if I may make a proposal,” he replied, unfaltering. “A dinner between friends, colleagues, allies. There is no ulterior motive, I have no intention of getting you drunk and taking advantage of you.”

“As if you could,” she chuckled. “If anything, it would be I who takes advantage of you.”

“Well, either way,” he shook his head slowly. “What do you say? We’ll just play it cool, and let whatever happens, happen.”

“I am afraid, Commander,” she replied with a sigh, “that I have to respectfully decline your proposal. As flattered as I am, and I truly am, I feel the timing is far from right.”

“As you wish, Captain,” said Hen. “However, should you change your mind, you know where I am.”

“I shall bear that in mind, Commander,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Following a farewell salute, Captain Ifhans hurried after her subordinate officers. She caught up to them at the walkway that led to the docking bay, and shot Emily Johnson a look that wiped the smirk from her face.

“We’ll talk later, Ms Johnson.”

“Aye Ma’am,” she replied with a salute, as her smirk returned.

“Mr Holden?”

“Aye Ma’am, Lieutenant Foster is awaiting our return.”

Due to the fact the Quintus star system housed five separate stars, there was rarely any point within the system that was in darkness.

It was about as close to as it got though, as the Pearl’s position docked to the orbital facility was only influenced by a single star, a Red Giant, and it shone in all its glory, casting long, undulating shadows before the Pearl’s three senior officers as they made their way along the gantry to their vessel.

“Captain on deck!” Mr Foster saluted smartly and stamped his right foot. Grace Ifhans returned his salute, and shook his hand, thus retaking official command of her vessel as several crew looked on. It was an old tradition that had its roots back in the days when sailors truly sailed.

“Thank you, Mr Foster,” she said, as they made their way swiftly to the bridge. “What news?”

“Nets replenished as per your order, Ma’am,” he replied, struggling to keep up with his Captain. “All systems functioning at eighty-five percent efficiency or higher.”

“That could be better, Mr Foster,” she replied. “Any information pertaining to the situation within this star system?”

“Not as such, Ma’am,” he said, “but it seems that this orbital facility, and indeed the planet it orbits, are protected by a code-locked energy barrier. In fact, of all the celestial bodies we’ve scanned, only three do not have such a barrier.”

“It makes sense that they would have some kind of defence against enemy vessels entering their airspace,” replied Grace. “Especially with their enemies in such proximity.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

“Well, we clearly passed through the barrier, though we were not informed of its existence. Have the techs attempt to trace the signal, and see if we can get that code for ourselves.”

“Aye Ma’am,” Foster replied with a salute, before setting about the task.

Grace knocked the drink back quickly, and accepted the cigarette from Emily. It was not of the norm for two senior officers to indulge, but Grace needed someone to talk to and she’d jumped at the chance when her subordinate had turned up at her quarters, unannounced, with a box of wine.

It’d been a strange couple of days for the Pearl of the Stars and her crew, and all over the vessel people were enjoying a little rest and recreation.

“So?” said Emily, smiling as she lit a cigarette. “Commander Riley?”

“What of him?” Grace asked. She’d have been the first to admit, she found it extremely difficult to switch off. She liked Emily Johnson though, a great deal. She was a damn good pilot, amongst the finest the Council Fleet had ever produced, and not only that but Grace counted her amongst her true friends.

“Oh come on, Grace,” she replied. “Don’t make me drag it out of you. What did he say to you?”

“Well,” Grace paused. There really was no point in beating around the bush, and she knew it was true, even though her instincts told her differently. “He asked me to dinner.”

“And you accepted, of course?”

“I declined.”

“Why in all the stars did you do that?”

“Because, Emily,” she replied. “I am a senior officer. The senior officer.”

“And that means you can’t have a little fun?” Emily asked, pausing to inhale deeply upon the cigarette. “Fick knows you deserve it.”

“That’s as maybe,” replied Grace, pouring herself another generous glass of wine. “But..”

“There’s no but, Grace,” Emily replied with a smile. “If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for the rest of us.” She took a drag on her cigarette, and a swig from her wine. “I know for a fact I’m not the only one on board getting through batteries as quickly as oxygen.”

The two women burst out laughing, both spraying wine in an extremely unladylike manner.

“I can’t, Emily,” said Grace, once she was able to catch her breath. “It wouldn’t be right or proper.”

“Fick that,” Emily Johnson scoffed. “And besides, a dinner can’t hurt.”

“It’s what comes after that can.”

“True enough, but he’s so pretty.”

“Oh I know, isn’t he?” Grace couldn’t stop herself smiling. “All through the meeting, it was all I could do to stop myself leaping across the table and kissing him.”

“Go to dinner, Grace,” said Emily. “That’s an order.”

“Well, if it’s an order,” Grace raised an eyebrow and pulled off a mock salute. “Yes Ma’am.”

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