Luckily, on A-deck, she could find the access hatch and make her way back to the bridge. She moved aft until she got to where the pod was listed.

Pulling the bulkhead hatch open, she entered the corridor outside the escape pod access way. Most of the doors were open, leaving only the transparent window in the middle of each doorway where daylight now poured in. She stopped and looked out, was able see the ice mountains for kilometres in every direction.

One door was still closed. It had a small overhead light that flickered intermittently. She instinctively hit the door panel and was unsurprised when it didn't respond; there was no power getting to it. She unhooked the power pack from her belt and tried a jolt to get the door to respond, but it didn't do any good. She cursed under her breath and used her suit's systems to run the diagnostic. As far as it could tell, while the pod was still intact, the launch systems circuits had blown.

She tapped a gloved finger against the panel, and with the whir of hydraulics, the door slid open and up to one side. The pod was a small space with just two seats with safety belts and limited legroom. It was designed to serve a single purpose, with anything else being secondary.

Grace could tell from the way the straps had been thrown off and not correctly hooked in place that someone had attempted to launch and given up hope. She wondered if they’d found an alternative route or if she’d passed them during her time on board.

The onboard computer was accessible and was reporting failure to launch. She ran through the various devices on her belt until she found the power cell she needed. It was not an unsuitable match for the pod's engine's power supply, and she swapped them out.

The lighting readout immediately switched from red to green. Despite Grace’s best efforts to suppress it, she found hope returning to her that she might just survive the day. She sat in the right-hand seat and attached the straps, clicking them into position. The door closed with a loud clunk, and for the first time, Grace disconnected her helmet.

She sniffed the air and was relieved when she could still breathe, but instantly regretted it when she called the smell of the air. Still, there was still another sixteen hours' worth in her suit, and she could now reserve that as needed. It might just buy her the extra time required to do what she needed.

A timer counting down on the pod's readout; the seat was comfortable enough for an escape pod. Whatever a trip on the Nomadic had cost, it was clearly worth it.

When the countdown hit zero, the G-force was overwhelming as she hit escape velocity. Running the calculations on the slate from her belt, she worked out it would take her two weeks to reach the position of the Trafalgar, and this pod should be able to get her there.

As the Escape pod reached a stable orbit, Grace gazed out at the view from the small viewport at the frozen below. The planet was almost entirely white, with different topographical detailing standing out and a blue tint to the atmosphere. She could see the largest satellite on the far side of the planet. Somewhere behind her, the local star was shining brightly.

She waited for the deep space thrusters to kick in, but nothing happened. Tapping at the pod terminal gave no immediate readout either. Adrenaline was kicking in, Grace started to panic. She looked into the menu readout, going down sub-layers until she found the navigational systems.

As she assumed, it was currently calculating the fastest route to the closest system with active communications. That would not do. If she ended up in one of the nearby colonies, she would have to pay for travel home, and then the next twenty years of her life would be trying to find a way to pay for all the debt Scott had cost her.

What if she could catch up with him? Managing to pause the pod's efforts to locate the nearest colony, she went to its limited sensor range and started scanning for her ship. When nothing immediately came up, she extended the search for any ships in the system or the next couple of light-years and left it running.

She then started entering the coordinates that the Nomadic had for the Trafalgar. The flight time would be two weeks, which would be cramped but doable.

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How she got back from there would be a problem. The latter was the next thing on her list to solve. She opened the compartment beneath the seat and checked the ration packs. These pods were designed for planet fall with enough provisions to keep the kind of passengers who could afford a trip on a ship like the Nomadic in one piece for months if need be.

There were a dozen vacuum-sealed packs in that compartment alone, with two more compartments around the pod. They were also designed to last forever. She wasn't going to be having fine dining, but these packets would sustain her.

The course was plotted, and she entered the command for the engines to take her out of orbit.

They didn't.

She sat there, looking at the planet below, while nothing happened. A message popped up. She hoped somehow it would tell her that launch was imminent.

Instead, it reported that no other vessels had been detected in sensor range. Wherever Scott was, there was no catching up to him now. She would have to find the Trafalgar with her wits and her ration packs. Grace placed the onboard computer into standby mode and tried to find any way she might salvage the situation. It seemed at that moment like she wouldn't even be able to return to the surface, where she might be able to use the resources of the Nomadic to get a distress signal out of the system. But she would need to stay in her suit, and it would take the quickest response a long time to get someone to her, which was not nearly enough time.

An idea struck. Tapping away at the console, she threw the system into a complete reset, allowing the pod's onboard computer to entirely disconnect before restarting. Its automated systems should kick in, processing her previous command to lay a course to the Trafalgar.

A countdown timer started as the system turned off before, finally, the screen went blank. She waited for it to kick back in again. When this didn't immediately happen, she wondered if now was the best time to crack open a ration pack. Not yet.

Knowing how long she would need them to last, she resigned herself to the fact that she should probably wait at least another day or so before having something to eat.

Tapping on the blank screen, there was still no response. Perhaps attempting to reboot the century-old piece of kit had been a mistake. Anxiety swelled. It was moments like this when she would usually pace the room, but there was barely enough space for her to stand up in the cramped pod. If she had to die, she would have much rather done it on the surface than be trapped up here with fewer options.

She heard a beep, and the screen finally flashed back on. A progress bar slowly made its way across the readout.

A message popped up to report that the course had been laid in, and she was suddenly thrown back in her seat as the thrusters engaged. The planet raced out of the viewport as they got closer and closer to hyperspace.

"Yes!" called Grace. She looked down at the screen again. The coordinates she’d entered were not there. Instead, they were the coordinates for the Persephone colony, a trading outpost and stopover for the deep space freighters.

"Shit," she muttered. "No, no, no, we need to go to the Trafalgar." she said, tapping at the unresponsive screen. She knew it was an insane gamble, but if she didn't even try, she would have no way to come out here again. No one would hire a ship to her after she didn't return the last one.

And with no solid proof beyond the data download, she would have a hard time selling even the coordinates of the Trafalgar to a hardened treasure hunter.

If that idiot pilot had left it with the blackbox, it would be a different story. Now she was stuck with the location of the most famous ship to ever go missing and no way to take advantage of it.

Her only consolation was that Scott didn't know about the Trafalgar. She stared at the readout: Approximately fourteen days and hours travel time remaining. Fuck it. Grace thought and cracked open her first ration pack.