All characters belong to SEGA entertainment, etc.

Obviously, here be spoilers.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't get a chance to say this in the summary, but this is an alternate universe fic. I have structured the plot as if Doc never discovered Mendosa's betrayal and subsequent death at the hands of Ramirez. Massive thanks, oturlu, for pointing this out.

Chapter One

The Good Doctor

"Looks to be a quiet night, men. All right, lower the anchor and harness the sails. We'll stop here for the time being."

The boards underneath my feet stirred with the crew's activity. They bustled past me in their identical uniforms of navy, barely noticing me, while I in turn ignored them. I thought of them as a well-oiled machine, knowing to disturb one would be to discredit the Admiral's brilliant work.

I looked over at him as he began to pack away, dismantling his telescope and sextant with almost surgical precision. Watching him peer at it through his think lenses, I realised he saw the instruments as I saw the anatomy of a human; he was taking it apart with such expertise to ensure he would be able to reconstruct it in the morning. He stopped momentarily, patted the left pocket of his grey robes, and dug his free hand into a pocket to reveal a small bottle of oil. He retrieved a rag from another pocket and began to gently lubricate part of the telescope's mechanism.

This seems long ago to me. I was old enough to have shed my youthful naivety, yet young enough to be considered by many as being at the peak of my career in medicine. After graduating from my medicinal studies, I was chosen by First Admiral Galcian himself for Admiral Mendosa's crew.

"Doctor," said the Admiral softly, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes, Admiral?" I stepped forward, my lab coat swinging open. He was still so engrossed in his work that I half-expected him not to finish giving me orders. Finally, with a fluid and precise movement, he replaced the telescope and its parts into the leather casing and swung the lid shut. He turned to look at me. He was a good fifteen years my senior, and his face was contoured, giving him a stern look. His eyes were magnified behind his spectacles. Perhaps it was because of his hyperopia, but he seemed to always be gazing very intently.

"Doctor, you are dismissed for the evening." He brought his arms around to his front and clasped his hands, interlocking the fingers together and taking a few steps towards me. I nodded curtly. "However, I would ask that before you retire to your quarters, might you take the time to check upon my daughters?" He smiled knowingly. "My little Maria, in particular, has trouble settling down some nights. She is most afraid of the dark." His thumbs poked up above the entwined fingers and began to wind around each other.

"It would be a pleasure, Sir," I replied. "If you like, I shall read to the girls, and administer some chamomile to calm their nerves and help them sleep."

The Admiral smiled warmly, and the light from the lanterns made his spectacles glow briefly. "You know best, Doctor." He took a few steps closer to me to address me personally. "I do appreciate the gift of your wisdom and resourcefulness that you lend to this crew." He paused to remove his spectacles with his hand and begin to polish them with his robe. Thinking he was extending to me his hand, I reached out briefly, opening my lab coat. My undershirt and work trousers were exposed, as was the glint of metal as the contour of the blade in its crude leather holster on my belt was exposed. It caught the Admiral's eye. For a moment I thought I was in for a scolding, but the Admiral chuckled breathily.

"My dear Doctor, there is no need for such a blade on my ship here," he began, as I ashamedly struggled to conceal it again with my lab coat, "Nobody is going to kill you! At least, nobody on my crew."

"My apologies, Sir- " I began, but the Admiral was chuckling lightly. I bowed respectfully, before turning around and leaving the cabin. My last sight of Admiral Mendoza was of him smiling to himself, and replacing the bottle of oil into his robe pocket.

To get from the cabin to my quarters, I had to pace almost the length of the ship. From the cabin onwards, the ship was almost entirely crafted of the finest veneered wood. The Aquila was a credit to Valua's craftsmen, and only below deck did the fine attention to details stop in the crew's quarters and engine room, where everything was replaced with metal. Luckily, as I was ranked above the crew along with the ship's cook and the first mate, I had the privilege of a wonderfully furnished room to myself. As I was passing my door on the way to the girls' room next door to mine, I noticed the cook, Gaston, coming out of his.

His beady black eyes noticed me, and he straightened up to and waddled towards me. I noticed he was wearing his bedclothes and suppressed a laugh – he was a rotund little man and swathed in his white gown he looked a little like an uncooked pastry.

"Evening Doctor," he began. I nodded my greetings. "Pardon me but I was just up to fetch myself fresh jug of water." He brandished the clay jug at me, and turned it upside down as evidence. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was on his way down to the cold store for a midnight snack. I smiled. He took my smile for acceptance and carried on, "You know Doc, between you and me, I'm really not sure about this visit tomorrow. Seems a little…unnecessary, don't 'cha reckon?" He was leaning towards me, as if he were afraid of being overheard.

Tomorrow? I furrowed my brow, and then I remembered. Of course, tomorrow the ship was due to sail back to the outskirts of Valua for an important meeting with the Armada. The Empress Theodora would be present, as would the other Admirals below Mendoza. I had completely forgotten. There was a slightly sour taste in my mouth that I could definitely not put down to acid reflux.

"It's not that I don't like the Empress…" began Gaston again, his voice becoming hoarse as he tried to whisper, "It's just that Second Admiral Galcian."

There it was; the reason for the sour taste, but try as I might I was too proud to admit that I disliked Galcian as much as any of the crew. His cruel mouth always sneered whenever Mendoza spoke to him, or indeed whenever he spoke of Mendoza. He acquired a dislike of me after he realised that anything he said against Admiral Mendoza in private was related straight to him by me. The only thing that had seemingly diminished his lust for greater power was his young apprentice, Ramirez, the resourceful young stowaway I had discovered a mere three years ago. On my rounds examining the crew one day I had uncovered the boy hiding in the warmth of the engine room. I had brought him straight to Admiral Mendoza, who had naturally seen the boy's potential.

"Although," I said to Gaston, vocalising my thoughts, "Galcian seems preoccupied by his young protégé. I believe Admiral Mendoza intends for Ramirez to become Galcian's eventual successor."

Gaston ran his tongue over his teeth, considering this. "Galcian won't be happy about that. 'E wants himself to take Gregorio's place as Second Admiral, or better. Out for himself, that one. Nothing Mendoza can do to stop that greed: prevent it, per'aps, but stop? Oh no." He gave a knowing smirk. Lost for anything else to say, Gaston shrugged his rounded shoulders. "We'll 'ave to see tomorrow. Night, Doc."

With that, he shuffled past me, grunting to himself as he went.