Any and all similarities with the excellent UK miniseries production of Horatio Hornblower are entirely deliberate.

Midshipman Amelia shifted on her feet, feeling awkward and self-conscious in her new uniform. The dark blue fabric of the plain jacket chafed at her elbows and under her arms, the cocked hat had clearly not been designed by someone with feline ears and the silver buckles on her shoes were just stupid. As soon as she had sufficient rank to be allowed leeway in her uniform, she decided, the shoes would be over the side and replaced with something more practical. She glanced from side to side at the other Midshipmen lined up in front of her on the ship's quarterdeck facing the elevated bridge, a thin blue line broken only by their faces and the bright white tabs they each wore on their collars as badges of rank. None looked more than a year older than herself, and more than a couple looked even younger. Behind the junior officers stood the crew, a motley assortment of colours and clothing, chattering among themselves in low voices and paying no apparent regard to the Midshipmen. Above them and in front of them on the high bridge stood the ship's senior officers, gold braid and epaulettes shining in the sun. Amelia bit her lip nervously and searched the bridge for a familiar figure. She felt her racing heart relax somewhat at the looming form of Mr. Arrow, an imposing, broad-shouldered figure in the red uniform of the Royal Marines. He was engrossed in a quiet but earnest conversation with the ship's first officer, Commander Chad, the lanky Benbonian's form in stark contrast to Arrow's bulk, but seemed to notice her gaze and Amelia saw him turn his head to give her a reassuring smile. She smiled back.
"What's got you in a good mood?" asked the Midshipman next to her on her left, a young human named Buckley.
"Hm? Oh, nothing, really." Amelia tried to look businesslike. "Just excited, you know. It's the anticipation."
"Anticipation of what?" said Buckley casually. "I mean, we know what it's about, right? It's war with the Lagoon Nebula pirates. Everybody knows that. It don't become even more true just because the Captain says it."
"Watch your attitude, there," said the Midshipman on Amelia's other side, a canid with large floppy ears whose name was Whiting. "You wouldn't say that to his face."
"Don't see why not. He'd barely recognise me," Buckley adjusted his hat and grinned. "I'm a master of disguise, me."
"I'm sure he'd recognise the attitude," said Midshipman Dunn, an orange-furred feline next to Buckley. "But I suppose all you humans look the same."
"I doubt that anyone would recognise you by the time the Captain was done with you," Whiting grinned back. "Isn't that right, Amelia?"
"I daresay," Amelia allowed herself a grin of her own. "But he's not all that bad, you know."
"Ah, of course." Whiting nodded sagely. "I suppose you're a bit more used to navy discipline, coming from your family."
Amelia rolled her eyes. "It's in the blood. My father used to make us toast the Queen before every meal."
"Especially before breakfast, right?" Buckley nudged her in the ribs. "Get it? Toast before breakfast?"
Amelia snorted. "Are you ever going to take something seriously?"
Buckley shrugged. "If you haven't a sense of humour, you shouldn't have joined."
"I have a sense of humour," said Amelia, pointedly. "That's the problem."
Whiting chuckled. Dunn nudged Buckley, who opened his mouth and was about to reply, but was interrupted by a call from the bridge. Third Lieutenant Spicer had seen the handle on the door to the Captain's day cabin turn and she turned to the crew, raising her voice.
"Captain on deck!"
The door opened and he emerged, resplendent in a heavy blue coat that seemed to be carrying its own weight in braid and an equally-ornate black cocked hat. A Marine guard closed the door behind him as he looked around the ship. The officers stood to attention. The line of Midshipmen down on the deck snapped to in unison, and the crew pulled themselves into the closest to good order as they had ever managed. The Captain marched to the rail of the bridge and watched the crew with a glare. He was an elderly human with a scarred and weather-beaten face. White rolled curls framed his head- a wig, Amelia knew, rumoured to be a replacement for his natural hair which had been lost to a near-miss from a hotshot many years ago. When he spoke it was with a voice that was harsh and authoritative, leaving no doubt that the speaker was a man who both knew his subject and was not to be crossed lightly.
"My name," he said, "Is Captain Sir Edmund Forsythe. And I am here to tell you that your days of idling are over!"
There was a cheer from the crew. Forsythe's taste for the theatrics of command was well-known, and encouraged as much as possible among the crew, who frequently held impersonation contests among themselves late at night. Truth be told, Amelia remembered, so did some of the Midshipmen when they had the privacy of the wardroom and none of the senior officers were there to impose discipline. Buckley was currently reckoned to be the best, of course. Amelia had so far avoided joining in. She had heard too many stories about this particular captain from her father to take him lightly.
"You have a mind to fight?"
Another cheer.
"That is well, for you shall have your fill!"
That got the biggest cheer yet. Amelia smiled. Even Forsythe gave a grimace of approval, but then his voice lowered seriously and he leaned forwards, hands gripping the bridge rail.
"Word has just been sent from the Admiralty. The pirates of the Lagoon Nebula are to be exterminated. The time when they could prey upon the Empire's shipping has passed. The full weight of the Fleet is about to be brought against them. A task force has been ordered assembled, and we of the Resolute are to be part of the vanguard. A state of hostility against the Nebula pirates has been declared. In response, the pirates are reported to have formed a formal alliance. They style themselves the Free Confederacy and are preparing to resist us."
Amelia felt a chill run down her spine. Anti-piracy action, insofar as she knew, normally consisted of little more than showing the Royal Navy's battle ensign and watching the enemy turn tail and flee. Of course, the Confederacy might just be a bluff, but it certainly sounded like full-scale warfare was now on the cards. Forsythe stood upright again and raised his voice back to his customary bellow.
"Their new name should not confuse us, or deflect us from our task! The old enemy may wear a new face, but whatever mask he chooses to hide behind, a pirate is still a pirate, and we shall beat him as we always have beaten him! For there is no power in the galaxy that resist the might of the Royal Navy!"
The assembled crew cheered. Amelia felt her heart rate increase again, but this time it was from excitement rather than fear. This, she knew, was how it had felt for her father, and his father before him, and so on as far back as anyone could record in her family. Forsythe snatched off his ornate hat, revealing his snow-white wig, and drew himself up to his full height, holding the hat across his chest.
"Gods save the Queen!" he bellowed.
"Gods save the Queen! Gods save the Queen!" A cheer went up that threatened to dislodge the caulking of the timber deck. Amelia found herself holding up her own hat and joining the chorus, a wild smile on her face. Forsythe replaced his hat, nodded approvingly with the closest she had ever seen to a smile, and stalked off the bridge. Commander Chad stepped forward and raised his hand for silence.
"You heard the Captain! Departure stations in one hour! Department heads report to conference immediately! Dismissed!"
Amelia turned as the crowd broke up and the spacers began moving off to their duties, but she looked over her shoulder one last time. Arrow was watching her from the bridge. She smiled confidently, and saw him give a nod and a wink in return.

Captain Amelia gazed at her reflection in the scorched glass, sighed, and began rubbing at it again with a rag. It had been three weeks since the supernova had blown in the windows of her stateroom and things were still not quite as they had been. Ordinarily she would have chosen some trusted members of the crew and had the room cleared up and shipshape in a day, but that wasn't an option open to her at the moment because, frankly, she didn't trust any of the current crew any further than she could have thrown them with two cannonballs tied to their feet. In fact, she was finding it much harder to trust anyone these days. She sighed and lowered the rag again, looking into the glass of the wall chart and regarding her reflection in its cracked, discoloured surface.
Not exactly the same, she thought. But then...I suppose nothing is going to be the same after that...ever again.
Looking at herself in the third person this way only seemed to underline the real problem, and it wasn't the damage to the stateroom. There seemed to be an awful lot of air behind her. A presence that was all the more apparent for its absence. She turned her head slightly and caught a glimpse of a battered black tricorn sitting on a table in the corner of the room. Her heart felt for a moment as if it was made of lead, a dull, heavy, remorseless weight in her chest as she exhaled sadly.
Amelia sighed and went to the big desk in the middle of the room. She went to sit in the high-backed chair behind it, paused, remembered, and adjusted it for herself.
After three weeks you'd think I'd be used to it.
She drew a sheet of paper towards herself and began running a critical eye over the list of carefully-spaced writing on it. It was a list of the Legacy's remaining stores. Keeping track of the ship's inventory was a vital task for a captain so that they were aware of any shortfalls even before they happened and potentially interrupted a plan. Mr. Silver had compiled it meticulously- so meticulously in fact that Amelia's suspicions were alerted. It was the fact that, close to the bottom of the list, he had started cataloguing the ship's supply of purp fruit in order according to their size that got her attention. Amelia raised a sculpted eyebrow and worked through the rest of list. Irritatingly, it all seemed to be in order. She picked up a pen from a well in the desk and noted the date on the inventory before filing it away carefully. Then she sat at her desk, arms crossed neatly in front of her, and gazed into the middle distance. Her green eyes were uncharacteristically unfocused for a moment until the chime of the clock seemed to wake her from her reverie. She stood up and almost gratefully moved across the stateroom, taking her hat from its hook and setting in on her head. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror one last time, straightened her back and left, closing the door behind her. She stepped out onto the bridge. Mr. Turnbuckle, who had been leaning against the wheel, glanced up, saw her, and hurriedly arranged himself into a more upright posture. Amelia noted him with a small, tight nod.

"Ah, Mr. Turnbuckle. Anything to report?"
"No, Cap'n. Plain sailing."
"Very good. Very good." Amelia nodded again. "I'll be doing the rounds if I'm needed."
"Aye, Cap'n."
Amelia moved down from the bridge and began walking the main deck, hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes darted to and fro, noting every coil of rope, every length of planking. Meltdown was polishing the carronade and he touched his forehead to her as she moved past, a leering grin on his face. Amelia tried to ignore him. Young Hawkins was, as he seemed to spend most of his days, swabbing the deck with a mop and bucket. That jabbering pink creature of Silver's was hanging around him, changing shape to amuse itself. Amelia glared at it until it went and hid behind the mast.
"All well, Mr. Hawkins?"
The boy glanced up, but never met her eyes, and nodded.
"Yes...yes, ma'am."
"Very good." Amelia stepped delicately around the puddle on the deck. "But use less water on these boards. I don't want another accident on this ship."
Hawkins blanched. "Yes, ma'am."
Amelia nodded and strode past him. "Carry on, then."
She made her way towards the front of the ship, taking mental notes along the way. Mr Snuff was lazing in a hammock strung beneath the bowsprit. Amelia's instincts bridled at the sight, but she decided that, under the circumstances, it wasn't worth the trouble. At least there was a more welcome figure on the other side of the mounting.
"Good afternoon, Doctor."
Doppler gave a start and fumbled with the telescope that had been held to his eye. His notebook fluttered to the deck.
"Oh! Er, good afternoon to you, too, Captain."
"It's a fine day, is it not?" Amelia stepped over next to him.
"Er, yes...yes, I suppose it is." Doppler knelt to pick up his notebook. Amelia looked down at him and managed a small smile.
"You'd better stand up quickly, Doctor, or people will start wondering about us."
"Us?" Doppler looked up and blinked quizzically. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm not sure what you're proposing...proposing...oh, dear. Yes." He stood up hastily and brushed down his coat, giving her an embarrassed smile. Amelia felt her heart lift genuinely for the first time in a while.
"Just taking observations?" she asked.
"Yes, that's right." Doppler waved the telescope. "I plotted out our course, you see, from the, er..." He lowered his voice to a whisper and tried to hide the word with his hand, "...the map. I'm just confirming that my estimates were correct."
"Are you doubting our course, Doctor?"
"Not at all, not at all." Doppler shook his head, making his floppy ears move. "I mean, I have every confidence in your navigation."
"Good."
Doppler coughed nervously. "And, um, how about you, Captain? What brings you up here?"
"A captain can go where they like, Doctor, for your information." Amelia raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
She smiled and waved a hand. "No, Doctor. It's all right. I'm doing the rounds. Inspection of the ship. Not something most Captains do, I grant you."
"Well, ah, you do have extraordinary attraction...I mean, attention, attention to detail. Of the ship." Doppler blushed and looked away. Amelia felt her own cheeks tingle and she nodded her head.
"Well, without Mr. Arrow...inspections are normally done by the First Mate."
"Oh, of course." Doppler sobered up and gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. Are you, um...I mean, because of that, do you feel..."
In the hammock, Snuff grumbled flatulently in his sleep and rolled over. Amelia held up a hand to stop Doppler's well-meaning sentence.
"Yes, Doctor. Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me."
"Of course, Captain. I won't detain you."
Doppler watched as she turned away and walked back up the other side of the deck. Two crew were walking the opposite direction, towards the bows, and Doppler saw Amelia step slightly aside to pass them. That was something he had never seen her do. On her ship, she gave way to nobody. Even Hands and Scroop made way for her. But the blue-coated figure seemed somehow smaller than even her slender frame made her. Doppler bit his lip and rubbed the brass case of his telescope with his thumb, trying to understand the feelings inside him. Under the bowsprit, Snuff snorted again, rolled over and fell out of the hammock, breaking Doppler's train of thought with a cacophony of noises as he picked himself up again. Doppler sighed, and headed for his cabin.

The convoy was scattering ahead of the RLS Resolute as she bore down on them. The nine small ships, which followed every design convention in the galaxy, moved to and fro, sails of every shape and colour straining to catch the ethereal winds to attempt to outrun the warship. Captain Forsythe glared at them disapprovingly.
"Not even bothering to fight," he muttered. "Damned coward renegades."
"Not a warship amongst them," commented Commander Chad. "How peculiar."
"Suspicious, is the word you're looking for, Mr Chad," said Forsythe. "Ms Dunn! I want you up in the crow's nest scanning for anything that looks like ruining our sport!"
"Aye, sir!" Dunn saluted and swung herself up into the rigging, climbing towards the lookout point.
"That one seems to be putting up a bit more effort, sir," said Chad, pointing to a two-masted ship with square sails. It was jinking left and right more energetically than the others, the dull red Confederation flag streaming from her stern. The other ships were heading for the cover of a glowing green nebula, but the ninth vessel seemed to be trying to out-turn the Imperial ship as it approached. Forsythe nodded and set his jaw.
"After her, Mr. Chad. Mr. Whiting, I want you in the fo'c'sle with the bowchasers. Send my compliments to the Gun Captain and report as soon as the guns are in range."
"Yes, sir!" Whiting saluted and left the bridge, darting forwards. Amelia was standing with Buckley to one side of the bridge, watching the unfolding action.
"What would a mob of pirates want with a convoy, anyway?" Buckley asked. "I thought they attacked convoys rather than forming them."
"They're abandoning their outer defences," said Arrow, behind them. "Those ships are doubtless laden with stolen goods. Prisoners too, perhaps."
Buckley whistled. "Then we'd better catch up fast."
"Loose studding sails!" Forsythe roared.
Amelia smiled. "Perhaps the Captain heard you, Mr. Buckley."
Buckley grinned. "Everyone listens to me."
Amelia rolled her eyes. "We don't get much choice."
"I aim to please," Buckley shifted the sword in his belt.
"It is odd, though," Amelia said. "A convoy of this size, and no escort?"
The Resolute lurched underfoot as the new sails were unfurled and caught the winds, driving the warship forward towards her target. Whiting stuck a whistle in his mouth and blew a long, piercing note.
"Bowchasers in range, sir!" he called back along the deck.
"Very good, Mr. Whiting! Fire as you bear!" Forsythe nodded in satisfaction.
"Lucky Whiting," Buckley said. "So he gets the prize of the first shot."
"It's the one who gets the last shot that is probably luckiest," commented Amelia. Arrow gave a deep chuckle. The first of the bowchasers opened fire, sending a blue fireball arcing across space towards the Confederate ship. As the sight of the muzzle flash it had begun steering more desperately, turning hard, but Chad spun the wheel and stayed behind her. Even before the first shot streaked past the pirate ship, a second shot boomed out. The ball hissed past the ship, close enough to singe the paintwork. A third shot, following soon after, slammed into her sterncastle and punched a hole in the woodwork.
"We're trying to catch her, not destroy her!" Forsythe snapped. "Don't fire into her hull, damn it! Cripple her!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" Whiting waved his hat and bent over the guns. A fourth shot sliced through the ship's rigging. A fifth struck the joint between her upper spar and the mainmast, shattering it and bringing the big sail down. The ship yawed sideways and wallowed in the current as her engines spluttered.
"Well done, Mr. Whiting!" Forsythe called. "Ms Spicer?"
"Sir?" The Third Lieutenant looked up.
"You will take two divisions, board her, and take her under your command. I can't afford to lose time taking her myself, we have the rest of this convoy to run down. Mr. Arrow, take your platoon and accompany her. Ms. Amelia, you will lead the second division."
"Aye, sir!" Spicer nodded and began calling out orders to prepare longboats. Amelia blinked and swallowed, trying to wet a throat that had suddenly become quite dry.
"Well, looks like a chance for you, too," Buckley grinned.
Amelia nodded and tried not to look nervous. "So...so it seems."
"Today, if you please, Ms. Amelia!" Forsythe glared. "I do not intend losing any more of this convoy through your dawdling!"
Amelia saluted crisply. "Yes, sir!"
"Marines, prepare to board the longboats!" Arrow bellowed. He looked down at Amelia and smiled kindly. "Are you ready, Ms. Amelia?"
Amelia smiled back. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Yes, Mr. Arrow. I am."
Spicer had already got the longboats swung outboard when Amelia and Arrow reached the deck. She nodded to them and called them over for a conference along with the divisional leaders.
"Let's make this quick and easy, people. I'll take my division around to board the target from the bows. Petty Officer Bryce, you're my second in command. Ms. Amelia, I want you to take the second division up and onto her stern. Mr. Arrow, your Marines are to go with her and secure the bridge. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Amelia.
"Good." Spicer grinned. "Then let's get to it, shall we? Good hunting!"

Captain Amelia stepped carefully down the ladder below the deck and looked around. The corridor was dark and the walls and ceiling were lined with pipes and machinery. The floor underfoot was no longer honest wood but steel grates which could be raised to access yet more machinery underneath. Down here she could no longer hear the creaking of timber and ropes that was the traditional sound of a ship. There was only the hum of power, the distant thrum of the solar drive and the occasional hiss of pressure. She paced along the desk, running a finger along the surface of a pipe and checking to see if there was a smudge of dust on her white glove. She rubbed her fingers together and inspected the colour of the fabric closely. A creak of metal behind her made her turn, ears raised, senses alert and fight-or-flight reflexes suddenly primed. A hand went instinctively to her waist and almost got there before she remembered that she wasn't armed. Her breath caught in a sharp hiss. Green eyes wide, she scanned the passageway before realising that the grating underfoot was twisted up at the far corner. Her weight upon it had made it shift on its braces, rubbing against its neighbour. Amelia breathed out and relaxed. She smoothed down her blue coat and shook herself as if to be rid of the momentary fright.
What in the name of all the heavens is wrong with you? Taking fright like that? Since when were you ever scared of the dark, Captain?
Walking faster now, she opened an airtight door at the end of the gloomy, metal passageway and stepped through, sealing it behind her before turning into a new corridor. It was small, but well-lit and had wood-panelled walls in stark contrast to the exposed machinery beyond the door. A number of narrow doors were set into the wall in between ornamental lamps. One of them failed to light and Amelia made a mental note of it, as well as spotting a small stain on the carpet. There was a rattling sound and a squeak of hinges as one of the doors opened.
"Oh, Captain! Um...fancy meeting you here."
Doppler was standing in the door of his cabin. Amelia acknowledged him with a nod.
"I could say the same to you, Doctor."
"Yes, well...I was just putting my telescope away. I thought you would still be on deck...I didn't mean to get in your way."
"You're not at all," Amelia gave him a small smile. "Trust me. Not at all."
"Oh, good." Doppler leaned in his doorway for a moment. "So...um...how's the ship?"
"No reason to abandon her just yet, Doctor."
"I'm pleased to hear it." Doppler gripped his hand behind his back. "So..."
"Yes..."
Amelia folded her hands. She rocked on her heels for a moment and then coughed to break the silence. Doppler looked up into her face and saw that there were shadows in the green depths of her eyes. They were shadows he had seen all too often recently. Shadows that hadn't been there when they had first met.
"Forgive me, Doctor, but I still have to inspect the starboard passageway," she said at last.
"Oh, of course. Of course. Please go on." Doppler waved. "But, um..."
"You wish to raise something, Doctor?" Amelia looked over her shoulder.
"I was just wondering if...um, if perhaps you'd like some company while you walk?" Doppler bit his lip, awaiting her answer.
"With all due respect, I prefer to do my inspections without distraction."
"Ah...of course."
Amelia was suddenly aware of how downcast he looked. Something inside her poked her and made her clear her throat again.
"But...since you mention it...I would be glad if you could join me for dinner tonight."
Doppler blinked in surprise. "Dinner?"
"Dinner, yes. The third meal of the day? You are familiar with it, I trust?" Amelia smiled.
"Yes, yes, I just didn't expect...well, dinner, then. Tonight."
"My stateroom. Nineteen hundred hours."
"Yes...er...nineteen..."
"Seven o'clock, Doctor." Amelia took pity on the confused non-spacer, who smiled with relief.
"Ah...right. Yes. Seven it is, then."
"I'll be looking forward to it." Amelia nodded.
"Is there...um, I mean, for the sake of protocol, should I wear anything?" Doppler fingered the collar of his burgundy coat.
"I'd prefer it if you did, Doctor, yes."
Doppler stared for a moment and then turned a similar shade of red as the penny dropped.
"Oh! No, no, no, goodness me. No, I mean, anything in particular? I've never been invited to dinner with a Captain before."
Amelia smiled. There was something about him that never failed to amuse her. It was a kind of anti-charm, she supposed. Instead of being suave and sophisticated and eloquent, he seemed to approach things from the opposite direction. There was something altogether unorthodox about this Delbert Doppler, and that had always appealed to her...
Why should you care about his appeal, Captain? You just need some company tonight. That's why you invited him.
"No, Doctor. Nothing in particular. See you at seven."
"Yes...I'll see you then, too, Captain."
"You'd damned well better," Amelia found herself grinning. She coughed again, straightened her coat and tried to reset her face. "Anyway. Must be getting on."
"Of course, Captain." Doppler watched her walk off. And was it his imagination, or did she turn her head briefly at the end of the corridor to glance back at him? And was she really still smiling when she did so?

The stern of the Confederate ship loomed high above them. Amelia knew that it wasn't that big a vessel, less than half the size of the Resolute, but up close and hostile it looked more than imposing enough. She shifted her grip on the grapnel in her hand.
"Bring us in nice and close," she said. "We'll need to be on her quickly."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Mr. Arrow?"
"Yes, Ms. Amelia?" The big Cragorian turned to face her.
"We'll take the lead and clear a space for your troops. Once we've done that, I want you to provide covering fire to take the bridge and support Lieutenant Spicer. And for goodness sake, everybody, watch what you're attacking up there! We'll have friends coming towards us from the bows and I don't want any blue-on-blue."
There was a chorus of assent. Arrow touched his hat in salute. Amelia looked up as the longboat passed into the shadow of the stern. So far, it seemed, they still had surprise...
"Ma'am! In there!" A spacer in the bows suddenly stood up and pointed into the hole that had been smashed into the enemy ship's stern by Resolute's forward guns. Two pirates were gaping at them in surprise, hammers and nails in their hands as they tried to patch the hole. Amelia's blood froze, but an order leapt instinctively from her lips.
"Open fire!"
The spacer drew his pistol and snapped off a shot. Two or three of Arrow's troops also opened fire. The laser fire sparked off the shattered wood and one of the pirates fell with a scream, but the other darted away out of sight, shouting something at the top of his voice.
"Oh, damn it all!" Amelia hissed.
"So much for the element of surprise," agreed Arrow.
"Well, nothing for it." Amelia gripped the metal hook in her hands tighter. "Once more unto the breach..."
The longboat scraped against the hull of the Confederate ship. Amelia hurled her grapnel over the bridge rail. Three others clattered alongside it.
"Marines will fix bayonets!" called Arrow. "Make ready, boys!"
The ropes were pulled tight, drawing the longboat level with the deck of the ship. Amelia drew her sword and held it aloft.
"For the Queen!"
The crew raised a cheer. She leapt across the narrow gap, climbed over the rail, and was quite suddenly on the deck of a pirate ship. Enemy spacers were hurrying up to defend the sides. A huge creature with clawed hands led the way, and it bellowed at the sight of Amelia. Her heart stopped for a moment. Her instincts took over. She drew her pistol and fired two shots into the thing's chest, dropping it like a rock. Its bulk blocked the way for a crucial few seconds, and then Amelia's spacers were alongside her, yelling, firing, swords flashing, fists flying. The pirates scrambled past the body of their comrade and threw themselves into the battle. Amelia had time to fire one more shot- she never knew if it hit anything- before the fighting closed in and her sword became her best defence. They had lost their hope of surprise, but the pirates had not yet been able to organise themselves effectively. Amelia ducked an axe swing that was aimed at her head, lost her hat to it, hissed savagely and replied with a lightning-fast punch that drove the hilt of her sword into the pirate's face. She felt bone give way beneath her blow and gave a victorious yowl that surprised even her. A spacer next to her went down to a cutlass thrust, but Amelia took advantage of his killer's distraction by removing his head. She span, flung out an elbow and knocked the last of the bridge's defenders over the rail. Turning, she saw Arrow's Marines taking up positions along the captured bridge, firing disciplined volleys down onto the main deck. Clashes and shouts from the bows indicated that Spicer's party had joined them on board, but the fact that they were not advancing back along the deck indicated that they were meeting heavy resistance. The Confederates who had been on deck already were either dead or fully engaged with them. Reinforcements were trying to force their way up the stairs from the lower decks, but the Marines had the hatches covered. Amelia turned, counted the surviving members of her force and reached a decision.
"Mr Arrow! Mr Arrow!" Amelia called.
He appeared behind her, still looking for all the world like a militant butler.
"Yes, Ms. Amelia?"
"Leave enough Marines here to cover those hatchways, but take as many as you can and we'll head forward to help the Lieutenant."
"As you command, Ms. Amelia! Corporal Ko, take charge here!"
"Aye, sir! Third section, man the railings and watch for targets!"
"First section, second section, come with me!" Arrow picked up a fallen cutlass and hefted it in a huge hand.
Amelia waved to her men. "Spacers, prepare to advance!"
She scrambled over to the bridge stairs and turned to gesture her forces forward.
"Ready? On count of three, with me! One! Two! Th-"
A heavy blow stuck her from behind and she fell. The enormous form of the pirate she had shot lumbered to its feet, dark blood covering its chest and a bellow of rage on its lips. Amelia rolled over, reached for her sword, couldn't find it, and stared up in horror as the thing drew back an immense claw, clad in an iron sheath.
"I think not!"
There was a flash of steel and the creature's roar ceased abruptly. There was a brief moment as both it and Amelia focused on the handle of the cutlass that had suddenly appeared in its throat, and then it fell backwards onto the deck below. Amelia turned, eyes wide, and saw Mr. Arrow wiping his hands in a satisfied fashion. He didn't have his cutlass any more. Amelia hadn't known they could be thrown, and they certainly weren't designed for it, but she wasn't about to argue.
"Thank you, Mr Arrow," she managed, and then remembered to breathe again.
"My pleasure, Ms. Amelia," Arrow replied. He touched his hat and smiled.
Amelia smiled back, then remembered herself. She recovered her sword and held it aloft.
"Well, then? Stop lying around and start laying in! With me!"
She vaulted the bridge railing and landed lightly on the deck below. Arrow landed heavily beside her as spacers and Marines clattered down the stairs. Amelia led the way along the port side of the deck, half-crouched, ears back and her teeth bared. A pirate emerged from a hatch and ducked back into cover as soon as he saw her.
"Mr. Arrow! Clear those boltholes!" She knelt and drew her pistol, checking the charge.
"Grenades! Grenades down the hatches!" called Arrow. He plucked a small silver sphere from his bandolier, gave it a twist and tossed it neatly down the hatchway. His red-coated men did the same and a series of sharp explosions went off, puffs of smoke bursting out of the hatchways. Amelia scrambled towards the hatchway and aimed her pistol into the smoke. There was no movement from it. Another pirate, gasping in shock, tried to climb out of another hatchway but met a Marine's bayonet coming the other way.
"We're nearly there!" called Amelia. "Forward!"
Spicer's forces were holding forecastle, but were under siege from pirates spilling out of the forward hatchway. Amelia could see Bryce, the Petty Officer, fighting near the top of the stairs. Amid the commotion, her group's advance was unnoticed. The pirates fighting their comrades never knew what hit them. Literally, in Arrow's case.
"Well, aren't you in the nick of time!" Bryce grinned and wiped his cutlass.
Amelia laughed back. "My respects to Ms. Spicer, Mr. Bryce. I do believe the ship is ours!"
Bryce's face changed. A look of hesitation passed over it.
"Um...in fact, Ms. Amelia, I regret to report that Lieutenant Spicer is...permanently indisposed."
Amelia's heart stopped. "What? Then who is in command here?"
"Well, I rather assumed that you were, ma'am," Bryce shrugged.
"Me?" Amelia blinked.
"I think the Petty Officer is right," said Arrow quietly.
Amelia turned, her eyes wide. "No, surely not...I mean, you're here...you have seniority, surely. You're a Captain..."
"A Captain of Marines, ma'am," said Arrow, "Which places me subordinate to any Officers of the Fleet. And in the sad absence of Ms. Spicer, ma'am that does mean you."
Amelia blinked and swallowed. "Yes...yes, of course. Well, then."
She looked around the ship...her ship, she suddenly realised. She wondered if any of her ancestors had felt like this. The thrill of battle had passed and she knew she had a new and greater responsibility. How many times had her father lectured her on the duties of a commander?
"Well...we'd better get this creaking tub shipshape, then." She stood straighter and set her shoulders. "Mr. Arrow, I want you to sweep the lower decks for survivors and report anything of interest. They tried hard to keep this ship from us and I want to know why. Mr. Bryce, post a man as lookout, get that sail back up and get us underway again. Private Holland, take my compliments to Corporal Ko. She is to see to it that our longboats are brought on board and secured. You there, you four- I want this deck cleared so we can work on it."
The four spacers she had addressed last hesitated.
"Er...the bodies, ma'am?"
"Those of the enemy?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Over the side, of course. Unless you want to keep them?"
"Er...yes, ma'am. And of our own?"
"Move them clear. Under the hang of the forecastle will do for now. The wounded can be taken below once Mr Arrow has reported it clear."
"Er..."
"Now, gentlemen! Unless you wish to join them! We are still engaged, or had you forgotten?"
The spacers scrambled away. Arrow nodded approvingly.
"I am sure your family would approve," he said. "I remember your grandfather when he first took command of a ship. Of course, the circumstances were a little different, but-"
"Mr. Arrow, I gave you an order." Amelia cut him off curtly.
The big man paused for a moment, and then his face broke into a smile. He drew himself to attention and saluted.
"Aye, Captain," he said.