This story, set in Disney's Treasure Planet universe and taking place just after my fourth Jane/Amelia story, Renegade, is another result of the collaboration between myself and the gifted Megers67 (now captured on our Sector Crescentia blog on Tumblr). To her belongs all credit for the character of Chaupi and the worldbuilding of Capra and its peoples. It has been a long time getting it to this point, but we hope you agree that it has been worth the wait!

For all its splendor and finery, Amelia never had much cared for the dress uniform. The attention for detail had always favored visual impact over personal comfort, a design philosophy amplified by the increasing might of rank. Luckily there were relatively few occasions it would need to actually be worn. Unfortunately this was one such event. The one year anniversary of the Battle at Parliament. While the rest of the Empire was busy creating long-standing traditions for the new holiday, Amelia was stuck here instead. At least she was allowed to bring a plus one. Her husband's presence kept her sane as she navigated the tedium of conversation. And there was a lot of it for her. As the fleet commander during the Battle, it seemed like everyone wanted an audience with her in one capacity or another. If the guest list was limited to highly ranked Naval officers, then the night would have been a pleasant affair, but alas, this wasn't so. Amelia found the conversations with members of Parliament particularly draining. Discussions of nuanced facets of politics had never interested her and the night was reaffirming her preferences. She managed to bear most of conversations long enough to be polite, but moved to a new group before her boredom became visible.

She had just escaped one small group as she turned to her canid husband conspiratorially. "If I have to endure another 20 minute discussion about marginal seats I may well put my ceremonial sabre to ill use."

"I'd advise against that dear," Doppler replied in kind. "Bloodstains would be terribly difficult to remove from your dress uniform."

"Ah yes, too true. Pity, it was sharpened just this morning." Amelia began scanning the room in hopes of finding someone she was at least familiar with in some way, preferably another admiral. At least then she'd be able to participate in conversation. Her gaze fell upon a small crowd off to the side of the banquet room and figured that she could occupy at least some time satisfying her building curiosity.

As Amelia neared the group, she noticed that there was one voice, one that sounded familiar. At first, she was unsure if her suspicions were correct, even though she knew he'd be around somewhere. When the felinid and her husband finally made it to the group, her suspicions were confirmed. In the center was an old acquaintance animatedly telling a story to a captivated audience. She was surprised that she hadn't seen him earlier, though he was the type to find himself in the center of crowds this way. The bright colors the Capram dressed in stuck out like a sore thumb against the comparatively drab dress of Imperial elite fashion. A myriad of colors and patterns were brought together in some sort of chaotic celebration. Even though the trend was slowly beginning to change, Capram weren't often seen off of their home world. As such it didn't take much to remember this particular one, even if it had been the better part of two decades since they had last met.

"...But the Procyon sniper was perched in the tallest tower, picking off passers-by so we had to hide in the shadows." He flattened himself against the nearby wall, or at least as best he could with his horns in the way. At this point, he noticed Amelia's presence, but did not interrupt the cadence of his story telling. He was a professional after all. "We snuck to the building without being noticed. I know we were not noticed because we would have been slain where we stood. We tried to throw open the door, but the Procyons were smart as they were cruel. They had barricaded the door and windows to prevent intruders. But what they did not know was that we had a Capram!"

A Macropdian who had been sitting nearby then stood and began gently maneuvering people to create an open path a few meters long. He was far more conventionally-dressed than the Capram and looked to be about middle aged, but was stockily built, large even for a Macropodian, and his fur was a dusty red rather than the more common grey or brown. He was also the only one who wasn't paying rapt attention to the story. Instead, he stood back and motioned to the Capram, a knowing smile of amusement on his face.

"So I did what any true Capram would do. I used my head!" At this, the Capram went into a sweeping and dramatic bow. However, instead of simply straightening again, he hurled himself headlong down the path, straight for the Macropodian. The Macropodian stepped slightly to the side and caught the colorful character with practiced ease, translating the momentum into a circular motion to prevent audience injury or a hole in the wall. The Capram gracefully stepped out of the twirl as if he had never charged in the first place. Amelia gathered they've been through this performance more than once or twice before.

"Not knowing my own strength, I went clean through the door and down the hallway. I later heard that I completely trampled an unwitting enemy, but truth be told, I do not much recall the details of that. Whether or not I landed any kind of blow onto the guarding Procyon, Lord Bonner laid him low with this signature right hook! He then picked me up out of my daze while Privates Avery and Pryor went to secure the sniper." The story teller then fell into a hushed tone. "Now I cannot rightfully tell about what happened up there because I did not see with my own eyes or hear with my own ears." Then he grinned conspiratorially. "But I can tell you that I saw a grey shape screaming past the window before a sudden silence."

He let the silence hang for a moment before affected a more casual stance, indicating the end of his tale. The small crowd politely applauded as others went up to both the Capram and the Macropodian for brief conversations. Amelia remained around while the group thinned until finally the last of the audience left the Capram alone. This allowed him to finally greet Amelia.

"Amelia! It has been so long!"

"Chaupi, it is good to see a familiar face." Amelia closed the gap between them. The two clasped arms at the elbows in a vigorous all-handed handshake. They separated after a moment allowing Amelia to introduce the canid by her side. "This is my husband, Dr. Delbert Doppler. Astrophysicist at the University of Montressor. And Delbert, this is Chaupi, an old friend from early in my career."

"Ah, then you are a cousin as well!" The Capram shook Doppler's arms in the same manner he had with Amelia who watched on in amusement.

"Cousin?" Doppler asked in confusion.

"I was made an honorary member of Chaupi's clan," Amelia began.

"No, no, no," the Capram was quick to respond. "There is no 'honorary' member of a clan. You are Orea. My kin. And by marriage, you are as well, Doctor. Unless of course you have been painted without my knowledge!"

"Oh! Well um... I'm honored. Well, not in an honorary... honored... Um. Well I'm glad to be part of the kin. Clan. Yes. I don't believe I've been... painted?" Poor Delbert was finding himself very lost in this conversation.

"Painted." The Capram bowed his head so Doppler could get a good look at the curling horns. They were brilliantly painted in an array of colors with black, grey, and white stripes among them. The canid noticed immediately that the horns weren't identically painted. The left and the right had completely different patterns, though some areas were the same. "It is so others know who I am before we even meet so we know how best to speak with each other. Though Imperial Standard has obscured the language needs, the tradition still stands. Cousin, do you remember? I know they've changed since we last saw each other."

"Hm." Amelia stepped forward. It had indeed been a while since she's last had to think about the significance of the colors, but she could recall at least some basics. "Congratulations are in order. You've married and had... two children? And you've been made an elder of some kind, though I'm not familiar with what that cap means." She pointed to a silver cap on the tip of his right horn.

"Yes, correct!" The Capram, who Doppler was swiftly learning was a very animated personality even when he wasn't telling a story, beamed at Amelia's answer. "I'm on the Council of Elders now, though since I've also been made 'Parliamentary Representative' we've had to create a new paint rule. Silver caps for those who work away from Capra."

Doppler looked around the room at the other members of Parliament. "I wasn't aware that Capra was given a seat."

"Alas! Since Capra is still considered a colony it is not an official seat. I have no influence over votes or decisions, but I can at least let Capra's voice be heard." With the man's loud voice and unquestionably lively spirit, Delbert was sure of at least that much. They won't be forgetting Capra any time soon.

"How have you been adjusting? I don't know you to be the type to have much patience for Parliament's slow pace," Amelia inquired.

"It is dreadful!" Chaupi lamented. "While some here are honest and which to work for the people, many do little else but snow talk."

"Snow talk?" Delbert looked between them in confusion once again.

"To properly explain would take at least five folk tales and a song," Amelia answered before her friend could do just that. "However, to more briefly explain, unlike the Empire, which associates good with light and bad with the dark, Capram have the opposite associations. Black is reminiscent of fertile ground while white is likened to the snow that kills. Snow also hides and obscures the ground. When stepping on snow, it is impossible to tell if there's good soil centimeters below, barren rock, a meter below, or an empty chasm. Snow talk is then the overly reassuring speech someone makes that hides their true intentions, so named because of the white of the teeth constantly smiling."

"Ah," Doppler nodded in understanding. "I can see how that's a useful term in politics."

"Agreed," a new voice chimed in. The Macropodian had finished his conversation with the last of the stragglers and joined Chaupi. "Lord William Bonner. Am I to understand that you are responsible for saving our hides?" He extended a hand to Amelia who readily took it.

"I was the fleet commander, if that's what you mean. I would hardly make any claims that my actions were any more heroic than those of any of the other spacers present." Bonner shook hands with Doppler as Amelia continued. "You had some fun of your own it seems."

Bonner laughed. "If you could call it that, yes. I think Chaupi would agree with me here, but we're both restless souls. Staying cooped up waiting to be rescued was not quite to our tastes."

"Though," Chaupi interjected, "hearing from the rest of Parliament, you'd think there was a whole army of us driving away the Procyons."

"And that every one of them was personally by our side." The Macropodian gave a wry smile. "There are times I miss my old fighting days. There was certainly no snow talk then."

"Ah yes," Amelia mused. "Billy the Boomer was your nickname."

Doppler chimed in, "And a six-time heavyweight boxing champion. Or was it seven?"

"You're too kind! It was six. I'm surprised that you know of that. Macropodian boxing isn't incredibly popular offworld."

"We may never have been introduced to it were it not for Dr Gray," said Amelia. "Or Captain Gray, as I suppose I should say now. An old friend of mine in the Navy."

The name caught Bonner by surprise. "Gray? As in Lord Nathaniel Gray?"

"His daughter, though she would hate to be reduced to that association," Amelia replied. "She's one of the most decorated medical officers working in the fleet right now. You might have actually met her in fact since she set up the medical outpost at Parliament in the battle's aftermath."

"I never had the pleasure, though that would be understandable. After all, there were many more patients needing more attention than I did. I can only hope there was no bad blood seeing as how I took her father's seat."

Doppler smiled. "On the contrary. In fact, I don't think I've seen her happier. From what I recall, the only time she seemed interested in politics was when there was the possibility that someone would oust her father from power."

Lord Bonner raised a brow. "Is that so? It seems like we might get along then."

"I would believe so," Amelia said.

"If you don't mind me asking," Lord Bonner said. "You seem well acquainted with Chaupi. How do you know each other?"

Chaupi beamed and slapped him on the back. "From my brief time in the Navy, my friend. She's the one I told you about who helped me liberate Capra! For this she was welcomed to the Orea clan."

"Liberate?" Doppler looked at Amelia curiously. "Did you save a planet and not tell me, dear?"

Amelia laughed. "It was a long time ago, Delbert. Long before I met you. And I can hardly claim much of the credit, in any case."

"You should still tell him, though," said Chaupi. "It is quite the story, doctor! Or perhaps you'd prefer me to tell it?"

Amelia grinned and shook her head. "Something tells me that there won't be enough time, Chaupi. But I promise to tell him when we're home tonight."

"And so you should! Stories are for telling, after all!" Chaupi beamed. "You married a remarkable woman, doctor."

Doppler smiled. "You don't need to tell me twice."

It was late when Doppler and Amelia got home. The children were already put to bed by the nanny, Mrs. Dunwoody. They quietly made their way through the house to keep from disturbing the unusual silence. They were able to breathe once they made it to their bedroom and shut the door. Amelia went to the closet and after some digging through the hanging clothes, she pulled out a small box and brought it to the bed. Curious, Doppler approached as she opened the box. Within it was a faded piece of folded cloth decorated with colorful stripes that reminded him of Chaupi's horns even though the actual design was quite different.

"Capram women don't have horns so they wore headscarves instead," Amelia said as she carefully unfolded the cloth. "It carried the information of her entire family, so they traced a lot of history."

"Is that one yours, then? If you're a member of the clan, you'd have one."

"Yes and no. I keep my official headscarf in my office. This one has a different history behind it."

"Ah," Doppler sat on the edge of the bed. "I suppose this is where that story you promised me begins?"

Amelia smiled as she sat next to him. "Very perceptive of you, doctor. Yes, indeed. It was about seventeen years ago, just after the Nebula War..."

The naval base of Fort Culverin had been built on the foundation of a small moonlet tidally locked into a polar orbit around Torsten's Planet. As naval bases tended to be, it was spartan and functional, with a halo of piers pointing out into space from its equator. Most of them were occupied by vessels of various sizes, though none were quite as large as the ship occupying the western berth. Her Imperial Majesty's Royal Light Ship Resolute was a fine sight, more than 230 feet from bluff bow to gilded stern of heavy, ivory-painted timbers trimmed with blue and gold, and nearly that much again from her copper-shod keel to the top of the mainmast where a Royal Navy ensign fluttered in the breeze. Most of her gunports were closed, but the two rows of square hatches that lined her flanks hinted at something of her firepower. Some observers might have been inclined to stop and admire her, but, to Lieutenant Amelia, she was an entirely familiar sight and she paid the ship-of-the-line no heed as she walked along the pier towards her. She swung her bag off her shoulder and handed it to one of a group of spacers working near a wooden pallet that was already loaded with luggage waiting to be hoisted aboard the ship. It was no small job to embark the baggage of the hundreds of spacers, soldiers and officers who called the Resolute home, especially after it had been swelled somewhat by souvenirs acquired during the two weeks of shore leave the crew had just completed.

"Anything fragile in there, ma'am?" the spacer hefted her bag for weight.

Amelia shook her head. "No. And I've nothing to declare, either," she added, seeing the approach of one of the local customs officials who were poking around the pallet looking for contraband. The man nodded his thanks and withdrew, making a mark on his clipboard. Amelia turned to the ship's gangway, up which a steady stream of crew members were passing under the watchful eye of a pair of Royal Marine sentries. Amelia traded salutes with them and stepped onto the sloping timbers to make her way up to the deck of the great ship. Spacer (First Class) Chaupi was leading the gangway watch stationed at the top and he drew himself up to his considerable height to salute as he saw Amelia approaching.

"Welcome back, ma'am. I trust your leave went well?"

"Well enough, Mr Chaupi, thank you." Amelia nodded to him. "And yours as well?"

"This planet was a little flat for me. But it was still a nice change to feel real rock and earth under my hooves again!" Chaupi laughed. He was a male Capram, a rare species in the Navy, slightly older than Amelia but more than a full head taller even without the curling horns that emerged from the sides of his head. His grey fur was wiry and thick despite its shortness, though a fringe of curly black sprouted around his jawline in what on a human would be called a beard. Despite the bony thinness of his face, his blue eyes were quick and warm and the smile he gave Amelia along with his salute was more than the mere respect due from a spacer to an officer.

"I trust you haven't entirely forgotten your space legs, though," said Amelia. "We'll be needing your topmen shortly, I expect."

"Aye, ma'am. Not to fear. It'll take more than a fortnight planetside to take my head for heights!" Chaupi grinned. "Besides, the Captain would have Midshipman Dunn's hide if we weren't in order. And she'd have mine."

"I have no doubt," Amelia smiled. "Carry on, Mr Chaupi."

"Right, ma'am."

Amelia surveyed the battleship's familiar decks for a moment before she made her way below decks and aft to the Resolute's wardroom, the private sanctum of the ship's officers. It was a cosy, wood-panelled room with comfortable bench seats drawn up to the two tables which occupied much of the available floorspace. As she had expected, there were a few people in there already.

"Good morning, Mr Whiting. Midshipman Dunn. Glad to see you."

Whiting, a young golden-furred, one-eared canid, looked up from where he had been doing a crossword in a newspaper, which he put aside as he stood to greet her. Dunn, an orange and black-striped felinid, moved aside to make space for her on the bench.

"Amelia! Welcome back."

She shook their hands and then glanced down at Whiting's newspaper. It bore the large-print headline NEBULA WAR DECLARED OVER.

"Looks like they finished the war without us," remarked Amelia.

"I call it rude," said Dunn.

"I don't know," Whiting said. "I think we saw more than enough of it to get the general impression."

"Of course. Sorry." Dunn smiled sheepishly.

"Though speaking of it," said Amelia, "How's the new arm going, Mr Whiting?"

Whiting pulled back the sleeve of his uniform coat and took off a long leather glove to show off the new cybernetic that had replaced his hand and most of his forearm. "It's settling in. Still couldn't play the piano, though. I suppose I can't complain. There's less nerve pain than I was expecting and I was lucky that they let me keep my original elbow. Still, can't say I'm totally happy about having to spend all two weeks of my shore leave in hospital..."

"It'll be worth it," said Dunn. "Besides, you didn't really miss much. Pretty, but boring. That's pretty much the planet in a nutshell."

"I could do with some boring, after a war," said Amelia. "Though I do wonder what we'll do now. Back to the inner sphere, no doubt. Or stuck prowling the depths for pirates."

"Haven't you heard?" Whiting grinned. "We're taking on a VIP. Some civilian bigwig, I think. A diplomat or something. We'll probably be showing the flag, as they say. Trying to impress someone."

Dunn rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Still, you're meant to get a good bit of leave on those diplomatic voyages. Maybe you won't miss out next time, Whiting!"

Amelia looked around as the wardroom door opened and heavy footsteps came through it. An enormous figure stooped under the entrance, a black hat held in a massive grey hand.

"Mr Arrow! Welcome aboard."

Arrow smiled and nodded to her. "Thank you, ma'am. In fact I've been aboard some time. I've been assisting Commander Chad in making ready to receive our guest.'

"Ah, so does that mean you know who it is?" Whiting leaned forward. "We were just talking about them and what it might mean we're about to do."

"I am not yet at liberty to disclose that," said Arrow. "And nor do I know our destination. But they have requested that a desk be installed in their cabin, so I doubt that they are along for sightseeing."

"Sounds like the diplomat theory is gaining ground," said Dunn. "Well...Mr Harburn told me that we're embarking about a month's worth of supplies, so that probably tells us roughly how far we're going..."

"Not helpfully, though," said Whiting. "There must be dozens of ports within a month's sailing."

"But how many are important enough for a VIP visit?" Dunn said. "Hmm...perhaps we should see if we can borrow a chart from Lieutenant Costell..."

"I think the navigator has enough to bother him without us," said Amelia. "I suppose we junior officers will just have to wait to find out as usual. Oh, present company excepted, Mr Arrow."

The commander of the Resolute's Royal Marine company smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."

"And I should offer my congratulations again on your coronation," Amelia smiled back. "It rather suits you. And was long overdue, in my view."

Arrow smiled back and looked at his epaulettes, which now bore the single crown and star insignia of a Lieutenant-Colonel. "Thank you, ma'am. I felt that it wouldn't do to turn them down this time."

"This time? You mean you've been offered promotion before?" Amelia raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Arrow nodded modestly. "I have, though I've been reluctant to leave my post. Alas, unlike the Navy, senior Royal Marines are likely to find themselves shoreside at a desk rather than in space."

"Is that so? Just what rank should you be by now, then?"

"One that would most assuredly prevent me from being here, ma'am," Arrow smiled. "Hence why I have chosen not to hold it."

"How mysterious," Amelia grinned. "And yet here you are installing furniture for someone?"

"As the service requires, ma'am," said Arrow with false humility.

"I can't imagine that getting a desk on board was much fun," said Whiting. "Where'd you put it?"

"Our guest will be using the captain's day cabin," said Arrow. "It's still vacant after Archimedes Porter – I mean, our last guest left us." He glanced quickly at Amelia, knowing that the Porter surname was still a sensitive subject to her.

"Whoever the VIP is, they must be pretty high up to get Captain Forsythe to clear his cabin for them," said Dunn. "The plot thickens!"

There was a knock on the door and a spacer poked his head around the side. "Begging your pardons for the intrusion, but your dunnage has been lifted aboard and taken to your quarters."

"Very good. Thank you." Amelia dismissed him and turned back to her friends. "Well, I suppose we'd all best go and see to that."

"Too right," said Dunn, leaving the table. "I picked up a nice piece of pottery and I'll not be happy if some clumsy fool's gone and broken it."

"Souvenirs," said Whiting. "That sounds nice."

"You got yourself a hand, didn't you?" Dunn poked him.

Amelia grinned to herself, shook her head, and headed below.

A lieutenant's cabin was small, only a few paces to a side, so it didn't take long for Amelia to distribute her few possessions around it to her satisfaction before stowing her bag in the locker built under the hanging bed. The utilitarian white walls had been her for months, but there were memories there which she had to fight back whenever her mind wandered, and the few square metres of floorspace felt emptier than they should have done when she thought of who she had used to share them with...

Jane...

It had been weeks since she had been forced to leave her on the docks as the ship sailed for Fort Culverin, not daring to look back as the ship pulled away. She had tortured herself over whether that had been an act of cowardice or professionalism. They had always known their relationship couldn't last – a warship was no place for a civilian – but that hadn't lessened the blow when it came, and it didn't make it easier to deal with the dull pain in her soul, or the sense of loss.

Sighing, she looked out of the window to the docks below. A solar carriage had just pulled up by the gangway. Luggage was being unloaded from it and a figure in civilian attire had stepped out and was making their way up to the ship. This, she guessed, was their VIP. Suppressing her curiosity, she finished unpacking and prepared a fresh uniform for the next day. Her patience was soon rewarded by an announcement over the ship's tannoy.

"All officers, report to the captain's cabin. Repeat, all officers to the captain's cabin..."

Being in command of one of the Empire's battleships had its advantages, even on a ship as old as the Resolute. The captain's cabin was the largest room on the ship, stretching the full width of the Resolute with a row of windows looking out over the stern. There was a conference table in front of his desk, but he didn't like using it, preferring to keep his officers standing. As she arrived, Amelia saw that today was no exception. She spotted a lanky figure towards the back of the group, wearing a white coat over her blue duty uniform, and quietly stood next to her.

"Dr Gray."

The mute Macropodian surgeon looked around at her and produced a notebook from her pocket to scribble a quick acknowledgement. MS AMELIA.

"I hear they've put you in charge of sick bay," Amelia said. "My congratulations."

Gray nodded.

"And on the promotion as well. It was well-earned."

Gray nodded again, but there was a flicker of appreciation in her eyes this time. Amelia allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction, but further small talk was rendered unnecessary. The cabin door clicked open and Commander Chad, the tall Benbonian executive officer, raised his voice.

"Officers, attention! Captain present!"

Amelia and the others snapped to attention as two figures entered the room. Captain Sir Edmund Forsythe was an aged human who looked all of his sixty-seven years, with a lined and weatherbeaten face and a snow-white wig of old-fashioned design on his head, though he still moved with confidence and his grey eyes were as icy-sharp as ever. Following him was another human, albeit one several years younger. Amelia scrutinised the VIP for any clues as to his purpose, but his civilian attire – though well-tailored – gave no insights. Behind them, Arrow squeezed himself through the door and closed it behind him. He saw Amelia watching and gave her a respectful nod.

"All officers reporting, sir." Chad saluted.

Forsythe nodded and waved him down. "As you were, Commander. Let's not waste time, then."

The officers relaxed their stances as he crossed the room and took up his usual position behind his formidable desk. The civilian stood beside him, regarding the officers with studied friendliness, but an air that brought to mind a visitor at a zoo, regarding some fascinating specimens from the other side of a glass window.

"You all no doubt are aware that we have a guest on board," said Forsythe. "Allow me to introduce Mr Robert Bellinger of the Colonial Office Inspectorate, along with our next assignment."

Amelia listened with interest. The Inspectorate was a powerful organ of state, charged with overseeing Imperial affairs on the many dozens of worlds that were in the Empire's jurisdiction but which had not risen to full membership. It was the job of the inspectors to ensure that the Empire's will was being done. Wherever they were going, it was bound to be somewhere interesting.

"We are to sail to Capra," Forsythe went on. "On a diplomatic mission. Mr Bellinger has been sent from the Colonial Office to ensure that all is in order there. Inspector?"

"Thank you, Captain," Bellinger's voice was cultivated and impossible to place. "Some of you may be familiar with Capra. It's a primitive world some three weeks from here, beyond the fringe of the Lagoon Nebula. Trade with it is managed by the New Horizons Company, who were granted a royal warrant to develop the world with an eye to, in the fullness of time, admitting it to the Empire on a more formal level. That warrant must be reviewed and renewed periodically. That's what I'm here for. And may I say that I am grateful to you all for this opportunity. A ship such as this, recently distinguished in battle, will be a powerful statement of the Empire's commitment to the economic development of Capra and the New Horizon Company."

"Do you anticipate any difficulties with that journey, Mr Costell?" Forsythe turned to the ship's navigator, who shook his head.

"No, sir. I'll request the latest forecasts from Port Control before departing, but I believe a direct course should prove no trouble. At cruising speed, I'd estimate a twenty day transit."

Forsythe nodded. "Very good. Any questions?"

"If I may, sir," said Amelia. "What are we to do once we arrive?"

"Show the flag, Ms Amelia," said Forsythe heavily. "The Nebula War is over, ladies and gentlemen. We're back onto a peacetime footing. I would not be anticipating excitement of the sort we've become accustomed to. This will be a formal diplomatic engagement."

"Understood, sir," Amelia nodded.

"However," Forsythe said. "I also have no intention of treating this as some sort of pleasure cruise. We have a newly-repaired ship to put through her paces, and a number of replacement crew who will need to be shaken down. I intend to run a full spectrum of exercises en route, and shore leave on Capra will be granted only under conditions."

"I shall look forward to observing your ship in action," said Bellinger smoothly. "As for myself, I have some work to do to prepare for my inspection. The New Horizons Company have provided a great deal of information regarding their business activities on Capra."

"Just who are the New Horizons Company, sir?" asked Whiting. "I've not heard of them before."

"Oh, they're a company of merchant venturers," said Bellinger. "Incorporated on Barthol. They were exploring commercial opportunities out here before the pirate confederacy arose in the Lagoon Nebula. Since then they've confined their operations to Capra. They were granted a monopoly on the Imperial trade with the Capram about twenty years ago, and I understand they're doing remarkably well considering the poor state of the world's development. I'll be interested to see their operation in person."

"And what happens if their operation isn't up to scratch, sir?"

"Well, in theory I can revoke their royal warrant of trade on the spot!" Bellinger laughed. "Not that anyone has ever had to do that before! No, based on everything I've read so far, this should be something of a formality. But that's not to understate the importance of the visit. As I said before, this ship is a marvellous ambassador for the Empire."

"So may we hope," said Forsythe. "If there's nothing further, then, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you to return to your duties. I want the ship ready for departure in four hours. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," said Chad. "The fresh supplies will have been loaded by then. Mr Costell, is that enough time for your chartwork?"

"More than enough, sir."

"Mr Pemberton?" Chad looked to the ship's rotund chief engineer, who nodded.

"No problem, sir. All systems standing by."

"Very good." Forsythe straightened up. "Four hours. Then we sail. Be ready."