I do not own treasure planet, all TP characters belong entirely to Disney/ Pixar. Nor am I responsible for Treasure Island character(s) (Alexander Smollet etc.). RIP Robert Louis Stevenson. God bless. Amy

– CHAPTER ONE –

Amelia Smollet woke with a start; she could not determine the exact cause of disturbance from her slumber, though she was certain that she was just dreaming.

She sighed and looked at her clock, 11:24 am. She sighed, "too early to get up now," she murmured, rolling over onto her side to fall back asleep.

At that very moment, Alexander Smollet strode into the room; his captains' tunic was as always: bright, crisp and fresh. "Up, up Flamy Amy!"

Amelia grunted. She hated her father's nickname for her, Amy was so…common and unofficial, she preferred Amelia, stronger, more demanding and respected.

"Come on Flamy Amy, there's a whole day ahead of us," He said. "Don't make me order you out of bed."

Alexander Smollet was a domineering man, requiring utter perfection. He owned his own ship, a grand vessel named the RLS Legacy. He captained it and was the best navel officer on Felinesia.

The RLS Legacy was a grand boat of a very fine craft. It served as a ferry to and from important trading posts and was perhaps the safest means of transport in all the eutherium.

Alexander had supervised the building of the Legacy and had, indeed, planned the design himself. The overall outcome was undoubtedly, the finest ketch on the entire planet and took special pride in the Legacy, which he loved more than anything in the world… except for his only daughter.

"Daaad," Amelia whined piteously, just a few more minutes."

Amelia pulled the pillows over her head and blocked out the light that poured in from the curtains that her father had opened.

"Now Amelia, if you get up, you may join me one last time upon the legacy for a short week."

Amelia sprung from the depths of her bed like a jack-in-the-box, and rushed around looking for clothes.

Alexander smiled and left her to dress. He was especially fond of his Flamy Amy, and had always wondered why of all things, she should enjoy sailing so much. After all, women were unlucky upon ships, not that he was a superstitious man and he preferred no nonsense and turned his nose down at ghosts and black Mitheirs.

He scratched his thinning hair and muttered how he could never understand women, his wife Abigail detested ships, saying she found them "resentful, jerky, worthless things." She could not fathom why Amelia enjoyed the sky so much. Women should keep themselves to themselves and no bones about it. Anyway, apart from enjoying sailing, Amelia showed no signs that she wanted to be more masculine.

Her auburn hair was long and she took great care of her nails, which were short and clean. She generally wore skirts and bright t-shirts and was withdrawn around boys. She was very shy and thoughtful, desiring nothing more than to disappear if she ever embarrassed herself.

However, if sailing was what Amelia willed to do most, Alexander was more than enthusiastic to teach her. In fact, four years ago when she was six, Alexander had given Amelia secret lessons how to fly a long boat. He was ecstatic when –being just a child –she had learned in less than two hours.

Amelia was ready in seconds, and tugging on Alexander's arm to leave.

"No hurry Flamy Amy," he assured her, "all day you know, the crew won't be happy today,"

"Why won't they be happy?" She asked curiously, her acute ears pricking up. Though quiet, she was incredibly sharp, and if she had more confidence, she would have been quite formidable.

"Well…they are all…grumpy old men." He said lamely. He did not wish to tell her that his crew was a bunch of sexist dolts (though he was sorely tempted to).

No, much better to leave comments like that until a special occasion, or on the occurrence when Mr. Arrow made him so dreadfully drunk he would spill everything, even the time (and he shuddered to recall), when he and Arrow had mooned in a women's salon, only to realize it was seniors day. Four poor old women were taken to the hospital and given a remedy for shock, one had even been said to have had a heart attack.

How he hoped his Flamy Amy would never find out about that!

Abigail tutted when the two of them appeared in the kitchen. "Really Alex, should Amelia honestly be ferrying about the galaxy? It's dangerous and she'll miss home."

"I won't miss home mother," Amelia said, "on the contrary, I should be delighted to accommodate father upon the Legacy. It is after all, his final voyage."

Abigail sighed; Amelia was turning out to be more like her father every waking day. Talking like she owned the place, learning to use a blaster, she was just a girl, and Abigail wished Alex would treat her like one and not so like his crewmen. As long as she remained shy, there was still hope to make a lady out of her yet.

"Fine," she said shrilly, "go on, by all means, teach our ten year old daughter to combat fight and tend to rigging, I don't care, honestly."

"That's great honey," Alexander said, "but she's been able to do that since she was four, she's laser blasting now."

With that said, Abigail could only watch, as father and daughter rushed out of the house, down to the wharf at the end of their home where the Legacy was docked, its hard wooden planks shining in the late-morning sun.

Whadda u thinks? To short, 2 random? Gudgud? Garbage? R&R plz. . More soon & remember… if u c sum 1 without a smile, give them 1 of urs!

– Amelia Johnsonn–

XXX