The Duchess Pirate Eddington Series 1

Blachart

Imagine, if you will:

SPACE.

Just think about it.

As frontiers go, this is probably the most final of them all, not because it may be the last frontier, but because as long as we try to cross it and explore it, we take it with us. No matter how far we go, the frontier will always be just that much ahead of us, tantalizing our curiosities. Thus, we can never really cross it in so far as just push it back a little.

The universe is so vast, so immense, we can never expect to explore it all. It is in effect, not so much a final frontier as an ultimate frontier; the ultimate frontier – as wide as it is deep. Stars shine coldly in the unimaginable blackness. Out of the darkness, a tiny speck caught the distant light of stars – a tiny gray speck that, as it moved, seemed to grow larger, catching the light just so until it revealed itself to be a ship.

Mykl d'Angelo groaned where he sat slumped in his chair. The irritating noise was unsettling his pet dog lying on his lap. The wickerwork garden chair creaked pleasantly under him and some native Earth birds made pleasant sounds above while the cool wind wafted over him as he lazily …

Wait-a-minute!

Reality kicked in after marking its spot 'position vacant' for the short and pleasant while. He groaned mournfully as he found himself staring at the inside of his own eyelids. The first thing that occurred to him was the terrible bone-wracking pain running up and down his spine. Pain? No, curiously enough. It was the memory of it that seemed to hurt so much. Maybe that's what scared him. Or perhaps it was the creaking of the ship – which consisted of tons of normally strong and silent hi-tech duranium, durastress and titanium materials, which surrounded him…

He opened his eyes and looked around. The smoke had cleared up, except for the wisps rising from what until very recently had been his 'mac. Ugh. The last thing he remembered was…was…what did he remember? Bright flash. There was a noise like…like – someone frying crisps, actually. Weaver had suddenly gone rigid, screaming, then glowed a bright yellow, which alternated with a luminous blue and neon pink. It was a rather nice blue, he remembered. What the hell was that? Oh yes. The surge of pure energy that had pulsed through the ship. Of course, it did pass through Weaver on the way… He was surprised there was a body at all, considering the kind of power that it conducted before almost burning out like a spent fuse.

What else? Oh yes – the ship-wide alarm was blaring. Still blaring, to be more accurate. It was an annoying, soulless mechanical sound that reverberated down the corridors of the ship – his ship, and signified an emergency, or as in this case, total disaster! Steeling himself, Mykl lifted his head off the hard deck he'd been lying on, turning it carefully from side to side just to make sure his neck wasn't broken. It wasn't he concluded, and carefully sat up. Then, coughing from the electromagnetic dust in the air, he shook his head, praying that the dull thumping wasn't an indication that it might fall off. He rose slowly to his feet, eyeing the smoking remains rather sadly. Mykl d'Angelo struggled for a decision. He had to contact the bridge – if, he mused, there was still a bridge.

The lights were still on. The gravity net was still operating. The communications panel in the wall in front of him seemed to be working, but there was just no answer from the other end. He tried again anyhow.

"d'Angelo to the bridge."