Archive of Our Own ^beta

ITEM: A promotional flyer for The Grand Tour, showing colourful spaceships rushing in bright streaks past abstracted planets of assorted sizes, advertising a retro intersystem cruise from Jupiter to Neptune by way of Saturn and Uranus, using only gravity assists and a once every one hundred and seventy five year planetary alignment. It has been folded into sixteenths and unfolded so often the design is marred by a worn grid. There are the faint remains of hot pink lipstick in a kiss pressed to the main spaceship.

ITEM: Still from security camera footage of staff boarding the Celestial Arrow, a dense bustle of people hefting goods at an aggressive pace up metal stairs and through the narrow mouth of full-spectrum scanners, all under the unblinking eyes of company drones.

ITEM: A letter, scribed by hand using a ST Dupont Trillenium Digital Quill on gold bordered, crest watermarked personal Space Mail Stationery.

TEXT:

My dearest Papa,

I'm writing this in the Embarkation Lounge as Ms Willoughby informs me that I shan't have the chance to send a missive again for some time. The Celestial Arrow is on the launch pad and I have been told it is almost a mile away, yet it still dominates the view. I knew it was huge, of course, but there is quite a difference between knowing something in your mind and actually seeing it with your eyes. I just know I shall have such adventures on board her!

I can see your brow crinkle from here, Papa. I know, I am not here to galavant. I am here to be introduced to and move among society; to mind my manners, airs, and graces; to heed Ms Willoughby's counsel and instruction; and to otherwise act with all due propriety in order to advance a suitable courtship match as is necessary for a lady of my status to make her way in life. And yet haven't you always told me that if one does one's duty, honestly and justly, that worlds will open up for them? What more worlds than these!

Until after Mars, I remain,

Your devoted daughter,
Amelia

ITEM: A digital print commemorative boarding photo from the Premier class entrance. Miss Amelia Balfour, a pretty and clearly excited young lady in a modest dress and simple travelling cloak, accompanied by her dour chaperone Ms Constance Willoughby, a tall lady in a dark burgundy suit, both step through the gateway.

ITEM: A digital print commemorative boarding photo from the Platinum class entrance. Mister Henry Langford, an avuncular white-bearded man with a cane, accompanied by his son, Master Arthur Langford, a dapper young gentleman, both sit on a luxurious hover-chaise and look blandly into the camera.

ITEM: Extracts from an Earth Standard to Interstellar Auxiliary Language translation guide in the Guest welcome pack, titled "Some Useful Phrases for Interacting with Staff and Non-Human Guests".

TEXT:

Greetings. Please ensure I am comfortable.
- Beannataṅkaḷ. Feuch vacatiyāka cinnteach uṟuti ceytu comhfhurtail.

I am a guest; make way.
- Nāṉ e aoigh a untāḷi; oru dèan sliyuṅkaḷ.

Are you from the inner colonies?
- A bheilthu uḷḷakō staigh vāṟukkiṟīr?

I cannot understand your accent.
- Chan uṟai dhomh purintu bhèim koḷḷa muṭiyavillai.

I require immediate assistance.
- Tha feum eṉakku uṭaṉ cuideachadh tēvai sa bhad.

I would like to speak to your supervisor.
- Bu toigh leam pēca ris stiùiriche ceyyāḷar agad.

ITEM: Extracts from an IAL to ES translation guide in the Staff instructions.

TEXT:

Tha mi uṟaṅ seo seirbheis aoighean māṉaviṉark urramach.
- I am here to serve you, esteemed guests.

Tha mi varuntukiṟ duilich mì-ghoireasachd vāṉkaiyāl ort.
- My apologies for the inconvenience I have caused you.

Bha avakaiyāṉatu mì-fhreagarrach os nilaiyilai mo shuidheachaidh.
- It was inappropriate for me to speak above my station.

Gabhaidh mi poruppai uallach mearachd etukkukiṟ seo.
- I will take responsibility for this mistake.

B’ e gu kuṟittukkiṭaṟ mo mhearachd tīṇṭaiyai mi-fhoighidneach.
- This was my fault entirely; I will turn myself in for punishment.

ITEM: A postcard, depicting the majestic rise of Olympus Mons from the sparkling lights of the domed agricultural facilities to the space-scraping peak.

TEXT:

Papa,

Imagine, a mountain as big as the biggest on our dear Earth twice over and then some! My breath was quite taken away.

Do not worry, I have also found time to make introductions. Arthur and Henry Langford, a gentleman of business and his father, proved quite knowledgeable about the Martian colonies and I learned all sorts of historical and political facts. Arthur is an excellent orator and Mister Langford is a charming old man, though he does like to order his son about so! Arthur seemed quite confused by the very idea of postcards, but amenable to the concept with a little prompting from us both and even insisted on paying over my, I admit, half-hearted protests to the contrary!

With love,
Amelia

ITEM: A postcard depicting the industrious robots and workers of the Martian Agriculture Work Farm.

TEXT:

Mother,

How are the Balfours spoken of in society? I have met the daughter, not a great beauty but an attentive young lady with a naive prettiness to her that is not unpleasant. She has no siblings and it appears her father has no interest in remarrying. Perhaps you might confirm this? Our businesses have some small overlap that could prove profitable. She seemed quite pleased by the attention I gave her and I admit to being a little flattered by the attention she gave me in return. Still, as you often say, "courtly, not courtship"; I will await your response.

Father sends his regards.

Your son,
Arthur Henry Langford

ITEM: A staff employment badge, laser-etched transparisteel with holographic anti-counterfeiting measures, with the name Zara Yarrin under a monochrome picture of a woman in her early twenties with pale lips and diamond sparkles in her jet black curls.

ITEM: A postcard depicting the romanesque outside of the The Exalted Martian Cultural Conservatory.

TEXT:

Papa,

Arthur is as knowledgeable in art and culture as he is in agriculture and architecture—I’m learning so much! Though, our guide, Yarrin, corrected him on a date, and the face he made was priceless. He took it in good humor and launched into a discussion that even impressed her. It was a bit over my head, but I do love hearing him speak. His voice is lovely.

One more stop before the Grand Tour begins. I’ll write again soon.

With love,
Amelia

P.S. Arthur thinks Yarrin’s hot pink lipstick isn’t regulation, and while I agree, it suited her. He kindly agreed not to report her at my urging—how accommodating! Sometimes I wish I too could get away with such bold colours—but of course, I shall not. Fret not, Papa!

ITEM: A postcard depicting the horizon on Ceres, showing the steep curvature of the planet, as well as little flashes of light beyond where the asteroid belt is being mined for ice.

TEXT:

Papa,

Ceres is so small, it is barely a planet, and yet I have to come to learn that it is invaluable to travellers through space. Yarrin explained to me all about how this little ball of ice, as well as the asteroid belt around it, are the last chance for ships to pick up water before the long trek to Jupiter. The mining operation seems quite complex and ever so dangerous. The miners are ever so brave, though I am sure they must be well compensated for their essential labour. The Celestial Arrow is well stocked, and now the Grand Tour begins!

Ms Willoughby complains when I end these "with love", but the sentiment (however informal) remains, as I remain,

Your devoted daughter,
Amelia

PS: Yarrin asked me to call her Zara. I know you say I shouldn't be overly familiar with staff, but it seems rude not to.

ITEM: Extract from a typical day's menu for the evening meal. Prices are not typically displayed as meals are charged automatically to the guests' cabins.

TEXT:

Butter-Poached Lobster Tail
- With saffron-infused risotto, charred asparagus tips, and a champagne beurre blanc.

Chateaubriand of Wagyu Beef
- Carved tableside, served with truffle pomme purée, heirloom baby carrots, and a red wine reduction.

Pan-Seared Dover Sole
- Filleted tableside, accompanied by almondine sauce, haricots verts, and duchess potatoes.

Herb-Crusted Rack of Lamb
- Served with a mint demi-glace, wild mushroom farro, and roasted Romanesco.

Black Truffle and Wild Mushroom Ravioli
- Finished with a creamy mascarpone sauce, shaved Parmesan, and a drizzle of white truffle oil.

ITEM: A well folded copy of the previous menu in which each item has had a hand written price added to it, represented first in credits, then as the time it would take Amelia's estate to earn it, and finally as the time it would take Zara to earn it. The Ravioli, the cheapest item on the menu, would take Zara nineteen hours to earn enough credits to pay for, and the Balfours roughly four tenths of a second. Written on it in carefully controlled cursive is "Good grief! They should pay you more." Under this, in sloppy, dashed-off letters, is "Not quite the issue, princess, but yeah, they should!"

ITEM: A photo of giant silver balloons holding spherical capsules, rising in the shimmering purple and green light of Jupiter's auroras. Through the observation windows of one capsule, we can see first Arthur, who is mostly turned away, and through the next, Amelia gasping up at the sky with joy and wonder while Zara smiles at her.

ITEM: Transcribed extract from the podcast "Life (Not As We Know It)", translated from Shlectish (often incorrectly called Europan Common) and occasionally Belkan (a sociolect originating in the Trappist system).

TEXT:

LYXARI:
Welcome back! I am here as always with my brother from another star, Vroqahn, and you are listening to Life.

VROQAHN:
Not As We Know It.

LYXARI:
We've got lots coming up for you today. We're going to talk about the increased pirate activity, the underground arms trade, the latest bop for Sashiqua—you're a fan, right?

VROQAHN:
Antarean Pop. Huge fan. All eight tentacles up for Sashiqua. If you're an air-breather, stick your head in a bucket for the full experience.

LYXARI:
Ha ha, save it for the segment, man. We've got some celebrity wedding gossip, some sports news that Terrapin fans are going to want to hear, and of course, as always, we'll be talking about every weird and wonderful culture in the galaxy, because as the Keplerians say, the grass is always redder on the other side, so why not go there and look?

VROQAHN:
Whole universe out there to get your fins wriggling in.

LYXARI:
That there is, that there is. Sometimes, though, the universe comes to you. We had visitors today from the Celestial Arrow on its way out to the edge of the system. Now, I'm a proud, native Europan, obviously—

VROQAHN:
You are. No one's prouder. And you like to show the place off to visitors, even air breathers with communication issues.

LYXARI:
Ha ha, I really do. Now humans, we all know humans, love them, hate them, you can't go far in the galaxy without running into humans and their, how shall I put this, terrible communication issues. They are just really terrible. Not like us.

VROQAHN:
No, we crossed the species barrier quite easily, bladder pressures aligned.

LYXARI:
So imagine my surprise when I go out to do my bit for the visitors, spice up their sight seeing with some proper native insight, and one of them—I'm going to butcher this, human names are quite unpronounceable. I want to say An'Eeler Baffer? Is that right?

VROQAHN:
An'Eeler, sounds about right to me. Lovely name. I'd be an eeler if I wouldn't just stuff my pouches with them all day long. And she tried to communicate directly, didn't she?

LYXARI:
She did. Very rare for a human. Now it's quite limiting to have only the two limbs to gesture with, but she did her best, and a very good best it was too, if I may say so. "Greet and Welcome. They scales pretty." Not great on the grammar, admittedly.

VROQAHN:
Lovely intent though. Lovely intent. Your scales do look shiny as a Dronga's belly, bro.

LYXARI:
Cheers, mate. Now An'Eeler was a bit embarrassed when her companion pointed out the translation drones but I just want to say, as I said to her then, well done for trying. Almost no human tries. I did try to invite her on the podcast. Shame they had to leave so quick, but you know humans.

VROQAHN:
Always rushing around.

LYXARI:
Always rushing around!

ITEM: Report transmitted from Constance Willoughby to Francis Balfour, using Balfour Communications' private back channels; retrieved from Lord Balfour's archive.

TEXT:

Sir,

Your daughter is well. Though she occupies herself in every excursion she can, despite my best efforts to persuade her otherwise, she has nonetheless made a positive impression on multiple guests. Her enthusiasm and enchantment with the various sights we have encountered on this long trek seem to have greatly charmed most around her, particularly the elder gentleman. No explicit overtures of courtship have yet been made, but it is early days, and I believe she has caught the eye of at least one young man of suitable background.

Arthur Langford is the heir apparent of Langford Forge & Drilling Co, an interstellar mining and refining conglomerate. He has had no formal public courtships and at twenty six is only five years older than Amelia, an acceptable age gap. There is no known history of genetic defects. The company finances seem to be in order, so far as the public record goes; solidly consistent profits for at least the last twenty Earth years. I find it a little concerning that they operate from so many exoplanets, but it is clear that they do have estates on Earth, where Amelia would be able to stay and raise children in a proper natural environment.

If I have one complaint, it is that Amelia is a little overly amiable with the crew. I have informed her that these people are not of the quality of your own servants from the Balfour estates, and should not be treated as such. I think in general this has had the intended effect, although one or two of the staff are still being shown favour. I will endeavor to rid her of this before it no longer seems a kindness and becomes inappropriate for her position.

There have been two dances so far, at which Amelia has comported herself well, and not had too many spaces on her dance card. I believe with the connections she has made so far, we will soon be invited to the Captain's Ball, which will provide her with great opportunities for new connections and to strengthen the connections she has already made. I will report back at the earliest opportunity.

Regards,
Constance Willoughby

ITEM: A security still of the viewing platform on Enceladus as geysers explode beyond the transparisteel windows. Arthur, in the background, looks on irate as Amelia gestures animatedly at the view while talking to Zara.

ITEM: A list written in the Notes app, placed into the Trash folder but not actually deleted.

TEXT:

Pros:
- Arthur is from a very suitable background
- The Langford's wealth and place in society is assured
- would offer stability and security, as father wishes
- his father is a jovial and kind man
- Arthur is knowledgeable and speaks well about many subjects
- he is much closer in age to me than many of the gentlemen that Ms Willoughby has introduced me too
- he has listened to me and answered my questions
- he seems to like me
- very well dressed and handsome enough
- excellent dancer
- our children would be well educated and I would get to stay close to papa

Cons:
- still much older than me and makes me feel it
- listened more at the start of the journey than he does now (maybe because of business? He and Henry having many private discussions of late)
- he's not very adventurous
- I would be stuck on Earth
- he wants children immediately (long courtship solves this problem?)

ITEM: On a promotional flyer, a hero image displays an ambiguously gendered person in a streamlined wingsuit, gliding gracefully through Titan's orange-tinged sky above shimmering methane lakes and towering hydrocarbon dunes stretching toward the horizon, Saturn looming large in the sky. Smaller flyers are set further back, with colorful safety drones around them, each with subtle vapor trails that emphasise movement through romantic soft swirls of clouds.

TEXT:

Soar Over the Seas of Titan!
Gravity is Just a Suggestion Here!

With just 14% of Earth’s gravity and an atmosphere 50% denser, Titan offers a unique environment where flight isn’t just a dream—it’s natural. Using just 3% of your body mass in effort, you can ascend to breathtaking heights, dive through ethereal clouds, and hover above alien landscapes.

Experience the skies you have always dreamed of!

Sign up today - group rates available.

ITEM: Cabin to cabin intertext messages from Premier Class Suite 16, Guest Amelia Balfour, to Platinum Class Suite 3, Guest Arthur Langord.

TEXT:

AMELIA:
Have you seen this advertisement? Imagine, actually flying—what a delight! Do say you will come!

ARTHUR:
How dreadfully dangerous! Cryovolcanoes, ammonia lakes, liquid hydrocarbons. The entire moon is quite deadly to proper life.

AMELIA:
Oh, that does sound a risk, I suppose, but I'm sure they must have all sorts of safety arrangements.

ARTHUR:
I'm quite surprised someone of your breeding would even consider such a ridiculous notion. It's all right for the plebs, I suppose, it hardly matters if they break a helmet or lose a wing, which seems quite likely, but you? My dear girl, what a waste that would be.

AMELIA:
Yes, I suppose so.

ARTHUR:
Besides, the Captain's Ball is tonight and I'm sure it will take you quite some time to pretty yourself up properly for it. No, put all such silly thoughts out of your head. Such dangerous pastimes are not for the likes of us.

ARTHUR:
Tell me you understand.

AMELIA:
I understand, Arthur.

ARTHUR:
Good girl. Wear something appropriate for the Captain's Ball. I will be on your dance card.

[No further response recorded.]

ITEM: A smart-paper print of an image taken by the integrated camera lenses of a FreeFlight Leisure Wingsuit in which a giant cryo-volcano sends a vast plume of frozen water clear of Titan's atmosphere. Hand written on the photo in cheerful, swirly letters is "No danger here!"

ITEM: Extract from Space Traffic Control packet capture logs, reparsed from exo-compressed FTL SIP bursts into human readable format, from Saturn STC Tower TTN (Titan actual) to SS Celestial Arrow NavComp, ship time 21:02.

TTN: INVITE Celestial Arrow

SSCAN: ACKnowledged TTN 1665

TTN: LOCATION Celestial Arrow

SSCAN: HECS position 9.25 AU, 304.48°, 0.02°

TTN: ACKnowledged 9.25, 304.48, 0.02

TTN: CONFIRMed

TTN: INFO: Celestial Arrow entering STC transition zone.
TTN: INFO: TTN contact will be lost imminently.
TTN: INFO: Estimate ninety-six minutes to network reconnect.
TTN: INFO: Contact Uranus STC Tower MIR on frequency 1781 at the 11 AU marker.

SSCAN: ACKnowledged SQUAWK IDENT to MIR on 1781 at 11 AU

TTN: BYE

SSCAN: BYE

ITEM: Extract from Space Traffic Control packet capture logs, Uranus STC Tower MIR (Miranda actual) to SS Celestial Arrow NavComp, ship time 22:38.

MIR: INVITE Celestial Arrow
MIR: TRYing
MIR: CANCELling - cause 34 - no circuit/channel available

MIR: INVITE Celestial Arrow
MIR: TRYing
MIR: CANCELling - cause 34 - no circuit/channel available

ITEM: Extract from Space Traffic Control packet capture logs, MIR to TTN, 22:42.

MIR: INVITE Saturn STC Tower TTN

TTN: ACKnowledged

MIR: INFO: Negative on handover to Celestial Arrow
MIR: OPTIONs?

TTN: PROXY, REPORT, RETRY

MIR: PROXY to Celestial Arrow
TTN: ACKnowledged

TTN: INVITE Celestial Arrow
TTN: TRYing
TTN: CANCELling - cause 38 - Network Out of order

TTN: INFO: Celestial Arrow unreachable.
TTN: RETRY MIR

MIR: CONFIRMed
MIR: INFO: Celestial Arrow unreachable.
MIR: RETRY TTN

TTN: CONFIRMed
TTN: INFO: Celestial Arrow unreachable.
TTN: INFO: Escalating to REPORT.

MIR: INFO: Escalating to REPORT

ITEM: Extract from an Interstellar Police Service report.

An automated Failure To Reach warning came in at 23:17 from the communication tower on Titan for the pleasure cruiser designated Celestial Arrow. This was logged for review as per standard operating procedure, and the ship's crew and guest registers were automatically requested from Earth dock. Upon scanning the guest list, a priority one alert was triggered. Cruiser 1019 was therefore dispatched to investigate. It arrived at the last confirmed coordinates of the Arrow and followed its trail until contact. See attached photo. Backup was called immediately.

ITEM: Attached to previous, a copy of a ship outboard camera capture of the Celestial Arrow, drifting in space, scorch marks on the outer hull and a large hole directly over the Captain's ballroom.

ITEM: Unsent video stream, retrieved from the Celestial Arrow's communications system buffer and auto-transcribed by law-enforcement ANI, beginning ship time 21:07.

TRANSCRIPTION:

"—can anyone hear me?" Amelia Balfour asks. She is in some disarray and there is fire and smoke behind her. "There was, there was some kind of explosion. I don't know what—Arthur! Arthur, I'm trying to call for help, but nobody is responding."

Arthur and Henry Langford stagger into view. Henry is clearly injured. Arthur, though mussed up and with superficial cuts, appears otherwise unhurt. He is holding Henry's cane tight in one hand.

"We're being boarded," Henry rasps out.

"Boarded? Pirates? Surely not," Amelia says. "Why would—Well. I mean. Surely there are defences."

"Escape pods," Henry says. Something else follows but there is too much noise to extract it. All subjects temporarily drop out of view as the deck shifts and smoke swirls. As the comm camera attempts to recenter, Henry comes back into view first, now sat against the wall. Amelia tries to tend to him, his blood on her hands. Arthur's head briefly sways into view.

"Arthur! Oh, Arthur, he's bleeding quite badly," Amelia says. "We need to—what are you doing?"

Arthur, still holding his father's cane, ignores them both and stumbles across the view into a niche in the far wall, where he pounds at something out of camera view. "The door controls aren't responding, damn it."

A tinny voice comes buzzing over the ship's intercom. "Amelia! Amelia, are you in there?"

"Ms Willoughby. That's Ms Willoughby. Can you hear me?" Amelia yells. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm just outside. I think I can see Master Langford," Willoughby says. Arthur clearly responds, though it is not caught by the call recording, because she continues, "No, I already tried them. Wait."

Henry says something too quiet to catch, and pushes Amelia towards Arthur. She also goes to the niche, but does not enter, looking up at something off camera. "Arthur, there's something—I think you should come out of—Arthur!"

She makes a grab for him. There is a brief tussle and then a metallic rush and more obscuring smoke as something makes a tremendous bang. When the view clears, it shows Amelia lying half-stunned on the floor, clutching Henry's cane, while Arthur bangs silently on the porthole window of the emergency door that has closed. A moment later, he is pushed aside and Ms Willoughby is briefly visible, also banging silently on the window. The intercom buzzes and clicks but no audible voices come through.

Amelia checks on Henry and then comes back to the camera, while Henry whimpers and clutches his cane to his chest. "Can anyone hear me?" she says again. "Something has gone terribly wrong. We need help urgently! Oh, please, can anyone hear me? I don't know what to do!"

"There's not much to do," a woman says. There is a loud hiss as fire suppressant systems finally kick in, followed by the low rumble of extractor fans. The smoke twists away to reveal a young woman in a crew uniform with sparkles in her hair and hot pink lipstick.

"Zara! Oh, Zara, thank god you're okay." Amelia says. "Arthur's trapped with poor Ms Willoughby, Henry is injured, and they think pirates are trying to board."

"Ah, well," Zara says, drawing a weapon. "Only some of my crew are outside. The rest of us have been here all along."

"What?" Amelia says, stunned. "What did you say?"

"I'm afraid Mister Langford here is to be one of my hostages. I would have quite liked to take Junior too, but Senior will do. But I have no quarrel with you," Zara says. "You are free to stay."

"But he's bleeding," Amelia says. "What do you mean, your crew? You're a pirate?"

"I'm the Captain," Zara corrects. "Now, please, stand aside."

"But he's bleeding," Amelia repeats. "He needs looking after. I can't just leave him." She straightens up, shaking but resolute. "You'll just have to take me hostage too."

"Okay, princess," Zara says, and shoots the camera.

ITEM: An advert for Magnusson's full feature canes, lauding their light weight, heft, strength, smooth wood like finish, intricate integrated sensor and memory circuitry, and real turtle-shell handle, made by hand in the traditional manner by the finest trained artisans, with the company slogan given pride of place: A True Gentleman is Never Without His Cane.

ITEM: Public channel letter from Lord Francis Balfour, on Earth, to the right honourable Sir Marick Edgerton, chief of the Interstellar Police Service.

TEXT:

Sir,

The hostages must be your highest priority. No ransom, should one be offered, is beyond our means, and I am willing to say so on every public broadcast channel available if it will get the message to these craven criminals.

Please respond at your most earliest convenience.

Yours sincerely,
Francis Balfour

ITEM: Private channel comm from Arthur Langford, on 51 Pegasi B, to Marick Edgerton.

TEXT:

You know what is at stake. You cannot negotiate with these terrorists. You must assume the hostages are already dead and attack with full force. It's what my father would have wanted, and the Langford fortune will stand fully behind. Kill them. Kill them all.

ITEM: A photo of Trappist-1e, the sky full of planets. Someone has helpfully labelled them things like "Spare Parts/Workshop", "Loot Exchange", "Emergency Medical Care", and "System Defence". A flight path has been drawn across the image, labelled with broadcast numbers and "Single Safe Route", with doodles of spaceships exploding off to the side under attacks from the System Defence planet. An otherwise unlabelled planet is circled in hot pink.

ITEM: The handwritten menu for Captain Zara Yarrin's personal table.

TEXT:

Veggie Stew
Cabbage and Barley Casserole, also it's got cheese in it, very posh
Leek Mashed Potato
Roast Veg
Apple and Oat Crumble

ITEM: A handwritten letter, in biro on scrap paper.

TEXT:

Papa,

I don't know why I am writing this. It's not as though I will ever be able to send it. I wish I could call you, speak to you face to face, show you pictures of a sky full of planets and ask for your advice. You always know what to do, and I feel like I never do.

Zara Yarrin is a pirate Captain.

Even written down in plain language, it is still hard to grasp. She was our tour guide. She was fun, and kind, and perhaps even something of a confidant. She opened my eyes to so much that I had missed about the world I lived in, showed me glimpses of the effort other people were putting in to make my life seem so effortless. I thought she was something special. I thought she was becoming a friend.

But Zara Yarrin is a pirate Captain.

She offered me a separate cabin from the others. I asked her if I wasn't a hostage too, and she insisted I was a guest. She invited me to join her at her table. I asked her what was on the menu and she sat down and wrote one out. I didn't know a menu could be sarcastic. I couldn't even tell you how it was sarcastic, but it was. She wrote me a sarcastic menu.

The food was so good. They grow the vegetables themselves, in little farms, and they are ugly, pocked things but the taste! I almost asked for the recipe for the crumble because I know you would have liked it so, but of course we could never make it. Not the same. Never the same.

But the things she told me. I know it must be to manipulate me. I know it must be lies. But they killed her parents, Papa. They killed them for nothing—no, worse, to cover up their own crimes. The crime that is 51 Pegasi B. It must be lies. But she has records. Incomplete records, yes. So incomplete that she has taken hostages in an attempt to fill the holes, knowing one of them is carrying the final proof she has been searching for for so long. But she has records, and the implications, the implications of those alone! It's supposed to be a tourist destination, the first ever found Exoplanet, a speedy hot gas-giant, filled with floating pleasure domes, and I suppose on the surface it is, but she has records.

They killed their workers, papa, and then they killed her parents for trying to tell people about it. Those poor gas miners. It wasn't a mistake; not incompetence, just indifference. The workers were replaceable, so the owners of the mines did not care that they so often had to replace them. The government got their taxes and their kickbacks and their cheap fuel supplies, so they did not care about the real costs of their actions. The human costs. The entire system killed people, over and over, because profit was more important than people.

But Zara Yarrin is a pirate Captain.

She has hostages and they have information and I do not know what she might do to get it. I wish you were here, Papa. But I worry that if you were, you would make the wrong decision too. And I am here. And I must make the right decision, no matter what.

ITEM: Extract from a news report, seven years old, originally printed as a small side item in 51 Pegasi B's One World News feed.

TEXT:

TRAITORS FINALLY EXECUTED!

Malinda and Gregor Yarrin, the two extremist activists that deliberately caused the Celestial Spire explosion that killed thirty two helium-3 miners, have finally been put to death despite the best efforts of activist lawyers to exploit loopholes in the law and keep them from their just and fitting punishment. Despite numerous attempts to shift the blame and defame the memories of the dead and the good names of the Spire's operators, Forge & Drilling Co, by making false and wholly unfounded claims, multiple courts fully demonstrated that Overseer Yarrin and her husband's deficiencies were the sole cause of the tragedy and the deaths that followed. They were put to death by cyanide gas chamber at midnight today, a quick and painless death far better than the slow and terrible ones suffered by their victims. Unrepentant to the last, the Yarrins recorded no final words. They are survived by one daughter, fifteen, current location unknown.

ITEM: A geological survey drone image of Planet Jannsen (55 Cancri E), a global ocean of lava under sparkling, silicate skies, haloed by glowing particles while its dark sister planet Galileo hangs just above the horizon like an ominous eye.

ITEM: Digitally enhanced close up of the previous showing an unexpected chain of transparent bubbles being dragged through a burning atmosphere at temperatures well in excess of three thousand degrees. Each bubble appears to contain two or three struggling humans, though it is difficult to tell against the molten glare of the lava below.

ITEM: Extract from Interstellar Police Service interview of Yarrin hostage Elspeth Swain.

TEXT:

DETECTIVE THOMASIN WAINWRIGHT:
That must have been unpleasant.

ELSPETH SWAIN:
It was terrifying. First she drags us off the Arrow and locks us in cells, then she screams questions at us for hours—I've never even been to Pegasi whatever.

WAINWRIGHT:
Your company supplies some of the indentured labourers that—

SWAIN:
Yes, but I've never actually been there. I don't do any of that. We have people for that sort of thing. I'm not a day to day person, I'm a big picture manager. If she wanted details like that, she should have kidnapped middle-management, not me. And when she put us in those balls. The heat. My god, the heat. You couldn't touch the glass but there was nothing else to touch. You had to keep moving all the time. And the questions, the same questions, over and over. Never listening to any answers. It was so hot. And bright, god, if I close my eyes I think I can still see it. We were sure she was going to kill us. That we wouldn't be able to answer her questions and she'd just let the spheres drop into that hell.

WAINWRIGHT:
So why didn't she?

SWAIN:
I don't know for sure. None of us knows. It stopped as suddenly as it started. We were all lifted out of the atmosphere, and pulled back aboard her ship before the spheres could even properly cool down. And she just left us there, all together in the sealed cargo hold.

WAINWRIGHT:
You said "for sure". Do you have a guess?

SWAIN:
Yes. Well, no, it wasn't my guess. It was Henry. Lord Langford. He thought that the Balfour girl had somehow talked the pirate woman out of killing us. We all saw them talking, quite intently, before the security doors closed them out and us in. And Henry—he'd been injured in the original attack, and he said that the pirate lady had left the Balfour girl to remain with him and attend him as a nurse at the girl's request. Basic first aid training is often given to girls like that. The Balfours aren't quite up to the standard of having their own personal doctors like the rest of us.

WAINWRIGHT:
You thought they were working together?

SWAIN:
Oh, no, no, nothing like that. She's a charming girl in her own way, Balfour. Henry, and I, really, we both think she managed through some kind of childish charm to tug at the pirate lady's heartstrings. Why else would she have stopped? Someone who kidnaps is hardly going to have a moral crisis at that late stage. No, Henry and I were sure Balfour had somehow talked her out of it. And Henry thought that gave us an advantage.

WAINWRIGHT:
An advantage?

SWAIN:
To use the Balfour girl against the pirate lady. And it must have worked. We're free. Aren't we?

ITEM: A handwritten list, showing signs of having been crumbled up and tossed in a trash compactor before being retrieved and smoothed out again.

TEXT:

Cons:
- kidnapped people
- might legally be a terrorist
- is definitely a pirate captain
- has no wealth that isn't stolen
- has terrible long term prospects (probably prison)
- is she even interested
- keeps calling me princess

Pro:
- fully committed to justice
- unwilling to actually seriously harm hostages even for her cause
- has never been anything but kind to me, kidnapping notwithstanding
- has really pretty hair and great taste in lipstick
- keeps calling me princess

ITEM: Auto-transcription of security footage from the Enduring Freedom's cargo bay.

TRANSCRIPTION:

The camera turns to track Amelia as she enters, the door slamming closed behind her. She rushes to Henry and kneels down next to him, and the camera zooms in. It takes a moment for the directional microphone to follow suit.

Amelia is saying "—started bleeding again. Let me get more antiseptic, gauze and bandages."

Henry grabs her hands and holds her still. "You saved us."

"I haven't saved anyone," Amelia says.

"She was going to burn us because nobody can answer her questions. You understand that, yes?" He leans in intently. The camera pushes in likewise. "When she realises that there is no conspiracy, that none of us know anything, she will torture us until we lie or kill us all."

"That's not true. Za—Captain Yarrin chose to let you out of capsules of her own accord. You really must let me tend to your wounds, Mister Langford." She tries to take her hands back, but his grip is strong. "Henry, please."

"She let us go because of you. She has a soft spot for you, perhaps because you are so young. You must use it to your advantage." Henry talks over her when she tries to reply. "This ship surely has escape pods. Get her guard down, and you can get in one and get fair enough away to send a signal. You're a Balfour, I'm sure your father would teach even a girl the basics of communication systems."

"Well, I—" Amelia tries. "Obviously he did, but that's hardly—I wouldn't say—"

Henry presses his cane into her hands. "Get to the authorities. Show this to them as proof you were with us. They will know what to do."

Amelia tries to return the cane but he won't take it. "At least let me ask her to take you to the ship's medical bay first. Henry. Henry!"

ITEM: Auto-transcription of security footage from the Enduring Freedom's medical bay.

TRANSCRIPTION:

"Well, he's not dying," Zara says from off camera, which is currently focused on Henry lying unconscious in a biobed. "He should probably get a liver transplant, but that one's not on me." She steps into view to lean over him. "Drink less, old man."

"He can't hear you," Amelia says, joining her at the bedside. They both stare down at Henry for a moment, before turning simultaneously to put their backs to the bed as if on some shared unconscious cue. "He didn't believe me. About you."

"I wouldn't believe me either. And he's not wrong about my intentions. Torture for answers was on the books. Until, you know." She shrugs. "I've never actually tortured anyone before. It sucks."

Amelia smiles at her and she smiles back, but they quickly both grow pensieve again. After a moment, Amelia walks out of view. When Zara does too, the camera flicks over to a different angle. Amelia sits at the med bay desk, while Zara starts absently stock checking the supply cupboard. Amelia turns the cane over and over in her hands, before laying it down on the desk and carefully sliding her fingers down it from tip to tip, muttering something.

"What are you doing?" Zara asks.

"Why would I need proof that I'd been with the hostages?" Amelia says. "Henry gave me his cane for 'proof', but I left the Arrow with them. If I fled, I would be all the proof I would need. So why the cane? And Arthur, when he fled the ballroom, he left his father behind, but he took his father's cane. Who thinks an accessory is worth more than their own father?" She waved an imperious hand at Zara. "Give me your comm stud."

"What makes you think," Zara starts, clearly reconsiders, and removes an earring, pushing a small section open to reveal a blinking light.

Amelia passes it over the cane, and grins proudly when it starts buzzing with static.

"I knew it. I just need... to find... the release—" She makes a triumphant noise and, with a sharp twist, separates the cane in two to reveal it too is full of circuitry.

ITEM: Auto-transcription of security footage from the Enduring Freedom's engineering bay.

TRANSCRIPTION:

There is a long silence as Amelia and Zara stand, lit by an off-screen monitor.

"That's it then," Amelia says. "That's your proof. They knew. They knew everything, and they—They let it happen."

"Yeah," Zara says, not moving. There is another long silence. She repeats, "Yeah."

"So," Amelia says eventually. "Now what?"

"I don't—" Zara physically shakes herself, before turning to Amelia. "I tell someone. Someone who can do something about this. Someone on Pegasi who's not involved. Or someone outside the system with wealth and power, who will listen to actual proof where they wouldn't before."

Amelia nods. She waits expectantly. Zara looks confused. Amelia says, "...someone like who, exactly?" There's no answer. "You don't know? You don't know. You didn't plan past 'get proof'."

"...I wasn't really sure proof existed," Zara admits.

Amelia is silent for a while, pondering the problem, before she slowly says, "What if we told everyone?"

"What do you mean?" Zara asks.

"We—I mean, my father's company—There's an automated interstellar broadcast tower," Amelia says. "It's on a high-gravity world, so it's risky. I don't know if your ship can cope. I don't know if we can cope. But if we drop the hostages off somewhere first, and you can get me to the tower, I can get us into the tower. And then you can get the message out."

ITEM: Transcript of pirate broadcast from HD 40307G via Balfour Communications' interstellar broadcast tower, full power intercept across all non-medical-emergency bands.

TEXT:

AMELIA:
—system's on. It's transcribing, speech only.

ZARA:
It's on? Shit. Okay. Uh. My name is Zara Yarrin. My parents were Malinda and Gregor Yarrin. My mother was an overseer for a gas mining company on 51 Pegasi B. She reported numerous problems with delayed maintenance schedules, poor quality equipment, overworked and under-trained staff, and especially the compelled use of indentured labour. When this negligence resulted in an explosion that killed almost three dozen people and cost the company hundreds of millions of credits, Langford Forge and Drilling company chose instead to privately prosecute my parents, frame them for murder, and have them put to death. They did this willingly—

AMELIA:
Two police cruisers just entered the system. I'm sorry, I think I triggered an alarm somehow. There are subsystems I don't recognise. We—

ZARA:
It doesn't matter. Even if I could run to the ship in this gravity, take-off would take too long to escape. Just keep the machines running. Is it still recording?

AMELIA:
Yes.

ZARA:
Langford willing and knowingly lied and killed two innocents to cover up their complicity in the deaths and injuries of their workforce. But they weren't the only ones, and they weren't acting alone. I have proof that they have backers in every business and at every level of government. The corruption and greed runs deep. They have hidden in the shadows for too long. But I see you. I know you. And everyone who reads and verifies the data files attached, decrypted from Langford's archive with his own DNA, will see you and know you too. I only hope—Was that explosives? Shit! We're breached!

AMELIA:
Did it go out? Did it—

[Transmission interrupted at source.]

ITEM: Arrest report.

TEXT:

We were alerted to an unauthorised entry of the HD 40307G tower and IPS observation node. Two FTL cruisers were dispatched and arrived at the planet. While we were descending, the tower began broadcasting. We attempted to block the outgoing signal but our ships did not have the power to do so while also fighting the planet's high gravity. We continued to the surface, where we used shaped charges to enter the tower, once our scanners determined there were no weapons inside and the suspects weren't a match for our strength of numbers..

Both occupants immediately surrendered. Miss Balfour identified herself and was taken into immediate protective custody as per the orders from Sir Edgerton and forcibly separated from the suspect. The suspect was then rigorously cuffed and placed under arrest. Despite the best efforts of law enforcement officers, she did not resist. On questioning, suspect readily admitted to entering under false pretences, broadcasting without a licence, and coercing Miss Balfour into giving her access to the broadcast station and holding her under duress while sending her seditious message. We returned to base with the suspect in one cruiser and Miss Balfour in the other.

No questions were asked of Miss Balfour due to the immediate arrival at the base of Lord Balfour, Ms Willoughby, and the Balfour lawyers, and also because Sir Edgerton shortly thereafter stepped down as Chief.

ITEM: Extract from a news report, published on 51 Pegasi B's First Free Press feed.

TEXT:

Collapse of Pegasi B Government Signals a New Era for the System

The once-unshakeable foundations of 51 Pegasi B’s government have crumbled following the release of a galaxy-wide broadcast exposing decades of corruption, systemic exploitation, and collusion with powerful corporations. High-ranking officials have resigned en masse, many issuing carefully worded statements of non-specific contrition, while others have fled entirely, leaving a leadership vacuum that has sparked widespread protests across the system.

Citizens, galvanised by the revelations, have taken to the skies demanding justice for workers and reparations for families affected by long-ignored tragedies. Key protests have centered on the corporate offices of Langford Forge & Drilling Co., named in the broadcast as central to a web of malpractice, bribery, and human rights abuses.

“This is a watershed moment,” said Janya Kul, a newly minted union leader from one of 51 Pegasi B’s gas mining sectors. “For too long, those in power have exploited the labor of the vulnerable while hiding behind walls of wealth and influence. We won’t stop until the people reclaim this system.”

The political and economic upheaval has rippled far beyond 51 Pegasi B, with trade routes disrupted and diplomatic relations strained. Neighbouring systems have offered tentative support for 51 Pegasi B’s citizens, though many have urged caution as the situation develops.

While the collapse of the government marks the end of an era, the path forward is uncertain. Interim leadership councils are being established to stabilise essential services, but observers caution that a dangerous power vacuum remains, and it's still uncertain what form Pegasi B’s new leadership will ultimately take. However, for now, a sense of hope and determination fills the mining rigs—a glimmer of light amid the chaos.

ITEM: Auto-trial docket.

TEXT:
Interstellar Penal Authority
Case Docket #472918Z
Defendant: Zara Yarrin

Offenses:
- Piracy (multiple counts)
- Kidnapping (multiple counts)
- Unauthorised Use of Broadcast Systems
- Terrorism by Galactic Standard Statutes

Prosecution:
- State v. Yarrin
- Presented by: Chief Prosecutor Maelin Voss

Defense:
- None entered.

Trial Notes:
- Evidence review: 3 minutes, 42 seconds.
- Testimony: Not requested.
- Auto-judgment rendered by Penal Algorithm V4.6: GUILTY on all counts.

Sentencing:
- Life of indentured labor, commencing immediately.
- Additional conditions: all punitive measures authorised for non-compliance.

By Order of Administrator G. Edgerton, IPA
The court adjourned at 14:23 Galactic Standard Time. No appeals granted.

ITEM: A nightclub flyer done in a dramatic chiaroscuro style, depicting fabulous looking people dancing wildly around a light in the otherwise near dark.

TEXT:

Set beneath an otherworldly dome of shimmering lights that mimic distant stars, Eclipse Eternal is the pinnacle of high-fashion nightlife on the rogue ice planet PSO J318.5-22, where the sun never rises, and the party never stops. Guests clad in avant-garde thermochic attire sip on glowing cocktails, dance to ethereal beats spun by interstellar DJs, and bask in the surreal beauty of icy vistas beyond the crystal walls. The eternal night ensures the revelry is limited only by your stamina and style.

Eclipse Eternal operates in full compliance with Galactic Labor Standards Act 472-B. Certain support roles may involve the use of rehabilitative prison labor, as permitted by law. All workers are treated with dignity and respect, and their contributions are integral to our commitment to exceptional service.

ITEM: A prison work order, retrieved from the IPA's archive following numerous Freedom of Information requests and a personal appeal as an affected party (victim).

TEXT:

Prisoner Work Assignment Order
Issued by the Interstellar Penal Authority

Prisoner ID: 11874-ZY
Name: Zara Yarrin
Crime(s): Piracy, Kidnapping, Unauthorised Broadcast, Terrorism
Sentence: Life of Indentured Labor

Effective Date: Immediately upon processing.

Assignment Location: Eclipse Eternal Nightclub, PSO J318.5-22

Role: Menial Worker (Sanitation and Maintenance)

Supervising Authority: Eclipse Eternal Management, in compliance with Galactic Labor Standards Act 472-B.

Special Conditions:
- Prisoner is to remain under constant surveillance.
- Control collar model GX-452 is to be employed for security and compliance.
- Any breach of assigned duties or unauthorised activity will result in immediate disciplinary measures.

This assignment is issued under the authority of the Interstellar Penal Authority and is not subject to appeal.

Authorized by:
Administrator G. Edgerton
Interstellar Penal Authority

ITEM: A tube of Stellar One Bold Colour lipstick, in hot pink, used.

ITEM: Extract from MMS communication between Francis and Amelia Balfour, deleted from device but retrieved from the service provider's internal logs.

TEXT:

Daughter, where are you?
Why are your comms shielded?

[A photo of a mirror, on which has been scrawled 'Borrowed your Skimmer, Sorry' in hot pink lipstick.]

What is the meaning of this?
You aren't officially licensed for that vehicle.
Amelia Balfour, you bring that spacecraft back here at once!

That better be you at the door.

I just lied to law enforcement for you, young lady.
I trust you know what you are doing.
Call me as soon as you can.

ITEM: Specific entries from an insurance claim filing with the Howden Group (Risk Management Division) by Eclipse Eternal Nightclub.

TEXT:

Incident Description:
Unauthorised removal of rehabilitative labor asset (Prisoner ID: 11874-ZY, Zara Yarrin) resulting in significant property damage.

Damages Claimed:

Crystal Starburst Chandelier – 5,000 credits
- Entire structure shattered during the altercation in the main atrium.

Plasma-Infused Champagne Flutes (x15) – 1,200 credits
- Broken during physical conflict in the VIP lounge.

Reinforced Security Door (Type IV) – 8,000 credits
- Forcefully removed using stolen skimmer's grappling equipment.

Hover-Table (VIP Grade) – 3,500 credits
- Crushed by the impact of the descending skimmer during extraction.

Holographic Light Panels (x8) – 4,800 credits
- Panels obliterated during the skimmer’s chaotic manoeuvring through the nightclub’s internal pathways.

Control Collar Model GX-452 – 2,500 credits
- Rendered irreparable due to deliberate destruction during prisoner removal.

Luxury Bar Module (Custom Design) – 12,000 credits
- Entire structure collapsed during unauthorised vehicle departure, spilling contents and resulting in loss of rare beverages.

Emergency Shield Array (Partial Activation) – 7,000 credits
- Damaged by skimmer’s plasma exhaust during hasty exit.

ITEM: A hand written note in neat but relaxed cursive, left on a bedside table.

TEXT:

My Dear Zara,

If you wake before I return, know you are safe, you are warm, the door is open and there are two bright suns in the sky. We are on Kepler-16B, beyond any jurisdiction that would put you back in that place, and I have a plan for where we can go from here, at least once I get our ship properly fixed. I'm afraid we departed Eclipse Eternal rather dramatically.

I am sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you immediately at the broadcast tower. I'm sorry I let the police take you, let them think you had used and confused me, that I was not at fault. I'm sorry I let people believe the worst of you, when speaking up was your whole life. I'm sorry if you wake up alone, which though perhaps necessary was certainly not my intent. But I'm not sorry I came for you, and I'm not sorry I have you, and I am not sorry that we are—or, if you are reading this, will at least be—together again.

So if you are reading this, if I am not yet back with repairs, please know, I will be back. Please stay, and wait, and listen. I have a very important question to ask you.

Yours,
Amelia

ITEM: A hand made hot pink invitation with cheerful text, festooned with champagne and balloon stickers, received two years later.

TEXT: