Legal Note: I do not own any of the characters associated with Pirates of the Caribbean or Treasure Planet. I do not have any legal right to use them or any other proprietary words originating from these movies. This story was done just for the fun of it. Not for profit. If you like it, please tell me. If you don't like it, please tell me why with particulars but not excessive detail.

Summary: Former pirate, once hated enemy, John Silver has been kidnapped. His daughter has asked Amelia and Jack to help find and rescue him. With the Empire at war, how will our heroes fair in the vast Muliphein Expanse? Will they be able to rescue their friend and make it home to tell the tale?

Return to Muliphein

Chapter I

"There you are, Jack," Anamaria said coming around the corner. She had been looking for Jack Sparrow for some little time now and here he was on the ornate balcony that overlooked the expanse of the great capitol city of the Empire with its towers and spires rising to dizzying heights. The balcony hung many stories above the paved avenues and served as a sort of exterior hallway outside the suite of palace rooms given over to the Heroes of Muliphein, as they were collectively known. A steady drizzle of rain was coming down and Jack was standing close enough to the rail to get drenched with the spray. In his hand was the ever-present bottle. Oddly, this one was still full. "What are you doing out here?"

Jack cast a sidelong look at the young woman he'd brought from their distant home in the Caribbean back on Earth. His expression was hard to read but there was a somberness to him that Anamaria had never seen before. He swayed back from the rail with an easy push of his hand and with an extravagantly casual motion he plucked the cork from the bottle and took a swig. He regarded the bottle with a loose interest as the liquor burned its way down his throat.

"What's wrong, Jack?" Anamaria asked concerned.

"This is the first rain I've seen since we left home," Jack said with a gesture at the weather. "Funny what you miss when you haven't seen it for a time."

"Jack, what's gotten into you?"

"This stuff's pretty good but it's not rum, all dark and sweet and burning." He drank again and then corked the bottle and tossed it to her. "Not bloody rum."

Anamaria caught the bottle and instinctively pulled the cork and took a drink. God! How could he drink this stuff? She replaced the cork and set the bottle on a small metal table by the door. She kept silent sensing that Jack would answer her question in his own time. He looked down at himself. The front of his new frock coat was dripping wet. His new britches were soaked from the waist to the knees. There was an uncharacteristic listlessness to him. He plucked at the front of his coat and held it as if to display the intricate embroidery to her.

"And this isn't my bloody coat, either." He stripped it off and threw it over the rail as if casting away something foul. Anamaria continued to watch him in silence. "Have you noticed that all we've done lately is rescue people?"

"That is what Amelia brought us along for," Anamaria said reasonably.

"One person," Jack said turning to face her. "I agreed to rescue one person. One!" Jack thrust his hand forward with his index finger raised to emphasize his point. "One bloody person and then home. That was our bargain. That's all I signed on to do. I never wanted a bloody medal! I never wanted to traipse through a bleeding jungle or climb a bleeding mountain! I'm a sailor. That's why I live on an island!"

"So you wan' to go home." Anamaria's voice was low and gentle. She understood. "But now Fidda needs us."

Jack shot her a look and then turned to lean on the rail with his face in the rain and his eyes closed.

"And you are going to help even though you don't wan' to," the girl continued.

"The man risked his life for us." Jack's shoulders slumped. He hung his head. "And I'm going to help because I have to."

Anamaria knew there was more to it than that. She'd seen Jack's expression when Fidda had walked into the room last night and asked them to help find her father. She knew all too well why Jack was acting this way now. They stayed there quietly with only the rain for company. It spattered and drizzled and Jack got even more soaked than he already was. Finally, Anamaria broke the silence.

"Do you think anyone will help Amelia?"

Jack considered the question a moment before answering.

"No," he said simply. "It's too much of a risk for them. Even if Amelia is a bloody hero the Admiralty won't help. It won't bring them any profit to help us. They'd be risking men and ships just to get an old pirate back. We're on our own, lass. Just like always."

Across the great court square from the towering palace of the Empress sat a broad, expansive structure with towers of its own. Here were housed the many offices of the many bureaucrats responsible for running the armed forces of the Empire. Amelia sat in yet another waiting room. She had been to four of the members of the Admiralty Board already and this was her last hope for getting some kind of help.

She had gone to her oldest friend on the Board first but Admiral Horniday did not have the authority to aid her more than by writing a personal note of endorsement. She had known before even calling on him that his duties were limited to overseeing the deployment of the Fleet as allocated by High Command. He could assign men to the various ships as need arose but that was as far as his powers stretched, at least as far as they might apply to her situation. If she could get a ship Horniday could get her a crew. Getting the ship was the trouble. The other members of the Board had expressed regret but none of them were willing to risk any of their admittedly limited resources to aid her. So here she was in Admiral Hesh's waiting room. Admiral Hesh was not her friend. Admiral Hesh had not particularly liked Lieutenant Amelia when he had been Commodore Hesh and she had risked her life and the lives of a small boarding party to capture a light frigate. Admiral Hesh had liked it even less when Lieutenant Amelia had then taken that prize and committed it to an uneven battle with a sixty gun ship-of-the-line. The only thing that had saved Lieutenant Amelia from a Courts Marshal was the fact that she had disabled that sixty gunner, and at the cost of the light frigate, she had captured the sixty gunner, which had turned the tide of the battle just enough for the Imperial Fleet to win the day. It was his belief that Lieutenant Amelia should have waited for reinforcements and should have requested permission of her superior officer to engage the enemy in such a fashion. She had observed then that results mattered more in a battle than form. Admiral Hesh had been forced to agree and had not liked doing so.

"Commodore Amelia?" a young ensign called from the open door. Amelia looked up. "The Admiral will see you now."

Amelia was led down the short administrative hall with its clerks and desks and filing cabinets to the Admiral's office. The tall wooden doors stood slightly ajar indicating the Admiral was available for interruption. The young ensign announced Amelia and then after admitting her closed the doors.

"Good afternoon, Commodore, and congratulations," said Admiral Hesh as he rose ponderously to his feet. His broad, rocky bulk reminded Amelia of her old first mate the late Mr. Arrow. They were of the same race but the similarities ended there. Hesh was grey in color indicating that he was considerably older than Arrow had been. And Hesh walked with a pronounced limp due to the peg-leg he preferred over the cybernetic limb that would have enabled him to get around with his natural gate.

"Good afternoon, Admiral," Amelia returned his greeting. "Thank you and thank you for taking time out of your day to see me."

"You are welcome," Hesh waved her to a seat. "Would you care for something to drink? No?"

"I don't want to take up more of your time than is necessary, sir."

"I see. Are you looking for a command?"

"In a manner of speaking, Sir," Amelia was uncomfortable. She did not like asking for anything, especially help. "You see, I need a ship."

"There are many officers in that situation." Hesh peered at her over folded hands. "While I understand the desire to get into action I must tell you that ships are in short supply at the moment. We are bringing as many vessels as we can out of mothballs as quickly as we can. Our largest yards at Mhoth are processing twenty ships a day and they are being dispatched to the front directly from there. Even with our highest production and refitting we are just able to stay ahead of the losses we are suffering. Yet there are more officers on our list than there are ships available. I wish we could say the same of crews."

"It's not a front line posting that I need a ship for, Admiral." Amelia went on to describe the situation. She told him how John Silver had risked himself, his ship, his crew and his daughter at the Battle of Muliphein. She told him how Silver had been taken from his home and how Fidda had searched for him finally coming here to the Capitol to enlist the help of Amelia and Sparrow to rescue her father.

"So," Hesh rumbled. "Still going off on your own missions, eh?"

Amelia refused to rise to the bait and remained undaunted by his disapproving frown.

"This Silver, he was a pirate as I understand," Hesh said.

"He was," Amelia confirmed. "But in the end he was loyal to the Empire and to me personally. He was loyal when it would have been safer for him to remain a brigand. Without his help the battle might easily have gone the other way."

"I've read the reports, Commodore," Hesh waved a hand dismissively. "I am aware of this man's service in a time of crisis. However, even if he were a commissioned officer of the Fleet we could not spare a ship for such a mission. We could spare the crew to man one even less."

"Sir," Amelia swallowed her pride. "Is there nothing you can do?"

The admiral looked down at his desk considering for a moment. "The only thing I can think of, Commodore, is for you to engage a private vessel. Keep in mind that the Fleet is snapping up as many serviceable ships as we can. There were many ships sold off after the Procyon War that we are now reclaiming. There are many civilian vessels that we are pressing into service regardless of their origins. However, if you can find one before the Fleet Acquisition Department gets hold of it you may be able to get away with it. Then, of course, you would need a crew."

"Yes, sir," Amelia said. "I had thought of that."

She rose preparing to go but the admiral stopped her.

"One other thing occurs to me, Commodore," Hesh said coming to his feet. "The Fleet is also taking on privateers. Perhaps one of them would consent to risk their ship for the right price."

"Thank you, Admiral Hesh," Amelia said and shook his hand.

"You know," Hesh said holding her in his grip a moment longer. "I was wrong about you, Commodore. Sometimes going through channels is not the best way to get things done."

The press of his hand, the look in his eyes and the emphasis in his words made Amelia think he was suggesting something that he was unable or unwilling to state more plainly. He released her hand and they exchanged salutes before Amelia opened the door and departed.

"So what will we do now?" Fidda asked after Amelia had described her day to the gathered company.

"I'm not certain yet," Amelia replied and then sipped from her glass of claret. "My conversation with Admiral Hesh has me thinking. And the personal endorsement of Admiral Horniday does give me some credit."

"Why not just use the Morsa?" Delbert asked referring to Fidda's ship. He had just put the children down for the night with Broad Foot they were now sleeping in their room quietly.

"Aside from needing more cannon and more crew to service them and work the ship in battle, if it comes to that, one ship is not enough for this sort of mission. I want at least two. Three would be better." Amelia set her glass down and tapped her fingers meditatively.

"What would it take to get the Smollette back in service?" Anamaria asked.

"Mostly a crew and some hard work. We might be able to refit her on the way. She has most of her guns and I'm sure we could acquire replacements once we were across the border." Amelia continued to tap her fingers.

"How were you able to gather your last crew?" Fidda asked.

"They were all old servicemen. Men who had served under my command in the old days," Amelia answered without looking up. "Those that are still able-bodied are now deployed with the Fleet. There are very few spacers of the sort we need who aren't."

"Amelia," Jack put in. "Perhaps I could shine a light on your benighted sea of thought."

Amelia looked up with a questioning eye.

"Where I'm from," Jack continued. "we recruit from the docks and taverns. We don't have the niceties of the recruiting office or the pressgang. We take what comes our way and winnow out those unsuited to the life once under sail."

"An undisciplined crew?" Alamimo asked aghast.

"It may come to that, I'm afraid," Amelia said gravely. "There is one other route that I intend to try in the morning. Until then, I think it would be best if we all got some sleep and consider what other options we might pursue."