AN: I owe an apology for the long wait - life has gotten a little busy recently, and I have spent a lot of time rewriting and editing this chapter. I may come back and rework on some parts of it in the future, but I also feel like I need to move on and carry on with the story. Again, sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy! See you in 2021!
Date: 013.071.1789
Location: Royal Light Ship Legacy, Waystation Victoria, the Magellanic Cloud
To say today has been a rather tiring day would, frankly, be a gross understatement.
You could pluck a thesaurus off a bookshelf and label me every synonym under 'exhausted'. The time is barely past twelve-hundred hours and yet I am finding it difficult to draw together the strength needed to soldier on through my duties.
Alas, I must.
I am a Captain after all.
I shall not continue moping on about my current position, however. Rather, I shall jump straight into today's events for I have much to say and it will most likely take some time.
We docked at our waystation at just past nine-hundred hours this morning to find the port as bustling as ever despite the drizzling rain. I would later discover, when I disembarked in pursuit of our provisions, that despite the crowds shifting through the markets and streets, there is a palpable air of misery here. At first, I believed it was just my mood tainting my surroundings but it soon became visible that others were stewing in their own unhappiness – there are fewer smiles or sounds of laughter, there are windows of shops and houses boarded up with planks of wood, debris littering the portside docks, and there is more than one ship missing spars and masts or sails and rigging. Apparently, the storm that had drifted into the Magellan Current was only part of a much stronger tempest that had plagued the waystation and surrounding planets for the past fortnight or so. Therefore, we found the port recovering from a hurricane of sorts and many were busy with mending the damages.
Some of the weather, in fact, persisted. Patches of grey mist still linger here, attracted to the large mass of the asteroid, and it made for some poor visibility when trying to dock. It was not impossible to manoeuvre through the hazy whiteness, however, but we did have to be guided through with the aid of a tug carrying a flashing beacon. It was a miserable early morning and one I spent planted on the bridge, dressed in my raincoat once more.
Mr Arrow shared my sentiments while we stood out on deck. Arrow, being a Cragorian made of layers of impenetrable rock, is usually unaffected by rain but he still surveyed our surroundings with a level of wariness.
"I do not like this fog, ma'am." He grumbled to me.
"All we can do is remain on our guard, Mr Arrow," I replied while keeping an eye firmly on our tug. "I simply hope that it clears up before tonight."
In truth, the fog did not bother me as nearly as much as the rain did. The dock-masters here are splendid at their jobs, thus I fully trusted them to successfully juggle all the ships in port. As long as I dutifully completed my task of keeping one eye on the tug's signals and my hands on the spars of the helm, there would be no issue. I was more concerned about the trickles of cold water dripping down my back – and, of course, the hostility between Doctor Doppler and I that was still lingering on my mind.
I was well aware that today was the day I would be forced to spend hours in the man's company – and the thought alone was enough to roll my stomach. I tried to ignore it by focusing on the task at hand but I could not resist wishing that time would simply speed up so I could get today over and done with sooner. But, alas, my mind remained rather fixed on the dreaded, upcoming visit to Waystation Victoria's Royal Victualling Yard and the company I would be forced to tolerate. Doctor Doppler, all the while, had not made an appearance on deck. My eyes were drawn to every little movement, half expecting him to emerge from below, but each time I would be left disappointed and the sickening feeling in my stomach only grew worse.
Once we were safely docked and the space-anchor dropped, the dockyard official was quick to come aboard and complete his business. The officer was a male Zandarian, much alike Mr Onus, but his skin was a deeper shade of mottled green and he went by the name of Mr Soan. He kept his sentences short – a godsend when it comes to dockyard officers, as they can sometimes take their sweet time with their inspections. Mr Soan, however, did not dawdle; he walked straight up the gangplank, saluted, and requested permission to board the Legacy. Once aboard, he followed me immediately into my cabin to sort out the paperwork rather than opting to stand there and drivel nonsense about the good shape of the ship or our poor misfortune with the weather – but even despite Mr Soan's apparent lack of dilly-dallying, the whole farce took nearly thirty minutes to work through. The bureaucracy of institutions like the Navy Board and the Admiralty infest my every voyage and compels me to not leave my ship unless I am lugging around a suitcase full of paperwork!
The documents in question included my own identification records that proved I was indeed the official Captain of the ship, and the identification records of the Legacy to prove she was indeed a naval reserve ship (even though her white hull and curiously shaped sails would attest to that), and a version of my orders from the Admiralty written and signed specifically for dockyards to prove that the Legacy had the right to be moving about in space and that I had not taken her without permission.
Mr Soan checked through these papers thoroughly and once they were signed, he requested to begin the standard inspection of the ship with a copy of the inventory – this is to check we are not attempting to smuggle in any undeclared objects. I approved and we both moved back onto the bridge where Mr Arrow was waiting patiently in the rain, watching the ropers furl sail. Doctor Doppler's absence was once again noted and had to be addressed.
"If you would be so kind, Mr Arrow," I said as I passed the bridge, escorting Mr Soan below to the hold. "Please inform Doctor Doppler to prepare to go ashore – and tell him to bring his chequebook."
"Aye, ma'am, and if I may, I volunteer to go ashore in your stead-"
I waved a hand. "That will not be necessary, Mr Arrow," I smiled at him and inwardly blessed his soul for his kindness. Arrow undoubtedly could sense my dread and while his offer was most welcome, I had a duty to fulfil and if it meant spending my time in the presence of a man who had defamed me so, then I would have to sacrifice my pride and do what I must. "But I do thank you for the offer."
The hassle with docking protocol was over in good pace – another half an hour was spent with me lingering around in the hold, stifling a few yawns, and watching Mr Soan go about his business with disinterest. Once all that was over, Mr Soan nodded firmly, signed a few sheets of paper on his clipboard and then handed them over to me without a word. I sighed with grateful relief. These papers were the ones that officially gave me leave to run around the waystation as I chose fit – and the ones that I would need to produce to the Victualling Yard otherwise they would turn me away until I produced proof that I was legally docked here at the waystation!
We returned above deck and Mr Soan departed with nothing more than a farewell and a respectful touch of his hat. As he descended back down to the rock earth of the asteroid, I returned to the bridge. I was too busy fingering through the papers to even look up until I was just about mounting the stairs.
There, stood by my cabin door, Doctor Doppler was waiting.
The sight of him alone caused my jaw to clench tightly and my stomach to plummet. I instinctively hesitated and stared, my whole body tensing as though preparing for a scrap. A whole morning of tension peaked in those few seconds. I tightened my grip on the papers. Claws in, Amelia, I reminded myself.
The Doctor also seemed to be just as unhappy to see me. He shuffled timidly as I approached the bridge and dropped his gaze immediately, staring at the decking instead. At least he had the good sense to leave his pressured spacesuit behind this time. Instead, he was dressed in his usual garb and was carrying his faithful umbrella – the same one we both had sheltered under during our watch in the rain. "Uh – reporting to go ashore, C-Captain." He coughed nervously.
I nodded sharply as a response. Admittedly, I was rather caught off guard by his…subservient behaviour. I had half-expected a reaction more along the lines of glares, or sly words, mockery and taunts similar to the aftermath of the last time we butted heads…but the Doctor behaved with actions that I can only summarise as formed from guilt or shame. Maybe Arrow was right, and the man was feeling some remorse about his words? But then why not apologise, if he truly felt this way? Why hide from me all morning and ignore me throughout our watch the previous night? Surely that would have been the best time to approach, when we had most of the deck to ourselves?
I tried my best to push these thoughts to the back of my mind continue on as usual. I had a busy day ahead of me, and I did not want my concentration scourged by muses of Doctor Doppler and his emotions. Thus I turned, and ignored the man completely.
"Mr Arrow?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I will be departing momentarily." I said, turning back to my cabin to retrieve the rest of the paperwork. "Keep the crew aboard and in line until I return. You have the ship while I am away. Doctor, will you follow me?"
As I have said before, there was a pervasive glum mood circulating around the waystation. It was reflected in the weather, it was reflected in the faces of the civilians I passed, and it was reflected in my own grim expression as I marched through the sodden streets of Waystation Victoria. Even my glare was not enough to discourage some of the merchants selling from their stalls and doors, shouting about their merchandise in attempts to lure in potential customers. One man saw my uniform and called directly to me, trying to induce me to survey his collection of sabres for sale – I refused him with a shake of my head. He swore at me instead but I simply rolled my eyes and moved on. From a few feet behind me, I could hear the Doctor desperately attempting to politely turn down the merchants as they thrust all kinds of goods in his way – crockery, clothing, baked goods, shellfish, caskets of wines. I recalled his comments about the saleswoman who sold him his space-suit, and decided I had to save him from making another ill-purchase by snapping over my shoulder, telling him to keep up lest he would be lost in the crowd and I did not have the patience to go searching for him. The Doctor obeyed and left the stall-merchants behind. He was shambling along behind me, tripping over his own feet in order to keep up with my brisk pace. I simply ignored him and kept advancing.
Thankfully, the Royal Victualling Yard was not a far distance from where we were docked. The Yard resides just outside of the Naval Base – a fortress built from slabs of rock with tall walls towering over the rest of the waystation. No matter where you stood, you could see her looming over the distance, as constant as any sun or star in the sky. Marines patrolled her battlements in pairs, striking against the grey sky in their scarlet uniforms. The closer you got to her, the more obvious her guns became; peeking over the outer-baileys were the open mouths of cannons, aimed up at the sky. There are dozens of them. Some may cower at the sight of such many weapons but few realise just how important those guns could someday be when pirates decide to set their sights on the goods lounging around this port. Besides, there is something far more dangerous and frightening than a clump of cannons lurking at this port – and few are even aware of its existence! If the civilians were aware of its existence, they would surely complain about its presence from morning till noon – and with good reason, too.
Tunnelling miles and miles down into the heart of the asteroid, laying beneath the garrison's weight, are tons and tons of gunpowder and explosives, stock rooms and armouries armed to the teeth.
A grenade at the very heart of this civilised waystation.
Arrow claims that it is a leftover from the old interplanetary wars from around the Cloud, and now the naval base here serves little more than a place to stock-pile weapons as close to the Procyon border as the Admiralty will go. Crescentia knows no such level of weaponry, unless you count the fleet of naval ships that frequently dock there, but should they be in need of such levels of ammunition – Victoria's stock and supply is close at hand.
Sometimes, however, I do wonder with an increasing level of concern if this is truly a wise decision. A single flame is all that is needed for one casket of powder to erupt and that will lead a chain reaction that would be impossible to stop – and could possibly take the lives of every soul at this station.
But the base, no matter how I regarded her with caution, was not our destination – just below her walls began the Royal Victualling Yard, the real gem and beauty of this port. She is a huge dockyard with plains of space just to pile up unused spars and crates of supplies that can outweigh Mr Arrow by the tenfold. There is also an extensive range of buildings, each working to cover everything a naval ship may want: there is a cooperage, some bake houses, many storehouses and granaries, even a slaughterhouse so all meat provisions are as fresh as possible before a long voyage. Each building is built from granite stones of pearly white, fashioned and stylised to look more expensive and grander than any other building in the whole port - even the main gate is adorned with a huge arch and a bronze statue of a long past monarch. Each building is decorated with an impressive metal plaque bearing its name – Dewford, Clayton, and, of course, the infamous Templeton House.
Templeton House is where the administration offices reside. She is five stories high, split into two wings, and each floor is home to dozens of offices. Visiting her is mandatory to any officer wanting to beseech the goods of the Victualling Yard, and so is the hours of waiting and shifting through paperwork just to get an approval!
The very sight of the administration building is enough to turn my stomach but luckily, due to the long-lasting poor weather, there were very few blue coats coming and going. Despite this, the yards were busy themselves with stevedores and crews of hands shifting tons of rope and wood. The carpenters' building was the busiest; their massive doors were wide open and the grinding sounds of a hundred saws was evidence that the building was running at its fullest capacity – perhaps to repair any damage from the storm, I wonder. Nevertheless, the number of carpenters at the yard did not concern me – I was more concerned how many other Captains would be in the queue before me to see a superintendent.
But when I finally stepped through the ante-chamber and into the Captain's waiting room to see there was only one, I was more grateful for the fact that the other Captain before me was a most welcome and familiar figure.
The Captain's waiting room is one of the finer decorated rooms in Templeton House. She stands to serve as a parlour where any Captains or equivalent ranks may sit and wait in comfort until they can receive an appointment with a superintendent. Therefore, she must be adequately adorned as so not to offend any of the pompous officers who unfortunately share my rank – the flooring is a solid hardwood and a few soft rugs are sprawled here and there. The large fireplace is always roaring, filling the room is a pervasive smell of smoke, and her gilded mantelpiece is ornamented with floral arrangements and fine golden clockworks. On the papered walls hangs a portrait of the queen, as well as some notable naval officers. The couches are made from a plush velvet – a far cry from the hard wooden benches that sit in the Commander's waiting room – and one was already occupied when I entered.
"By the Heavens, Captain Amelia! I did not expect to run into you here!"
The voice belonged to Captain John Yearnshaw, an old classmate of mine from the Interstellar Academy and a colleague from a few commissions here and there. He is five and thirty, an Acridian (they have a biology similar to grasshoppers) with muted-chartreuse skin, and is extremely tall even by his species' standards. Like me, he has a few noticeable scars that give away his profession, including both his antennas being shortened considerably. An unfortunate injury during his late twenties left him with an amputated leg and stuck as Waystation Victoria's naval base Commander. A rather remarkable feat for someone at our age but it is rather obvious to anyone who knows him that Yearnshaw would much rather be back in command of a ship rather than a whole port.
I particularly like Yearnshaw – we are cut from the same cloth when it comes to tactics and cunning. It is a shame the Admiralty have decided to maroon him here on this sorry asteroid (a peg-leg does little to stop or even slow down a commander like him!). He, rather like myself, harbours bitter feelings towards the way the Navy is run today when bright minds like ours are put on the back-burner to satisfy those who prefer to earn their commissions through funds rather than accomplishments. Many an evening has been spent seated beside a fire at his residence, a glass of port in hand, licking our old wounds in an attempt to heal our own pride. I frequently drop in on him and his wife for social calls when I can during my reoccurring visits here, but rarely do I see him about the Victualling Yard – Captain Yearnshaw rarely goes off-shore nowadays and usually has no need to be sitting around Templeton House when he can meet with the Victualling Yard's commissioners and chairmen in the comfort of his own office.
I believe where we only truly begin to differ is in our social lives – Captain Yearnshaw loves a party with music, drinking, eating, card games, the lot! His position here at Waystation Victoria has given him ample time to spend indulging in such revel. I have attended a few but I am not one for large gatherings (such events were rare during my childhood and have never really grown accustom to them no matter how many I decided to attend) but despite this difference, Yearnshaw and I have grown to be friends.
So much so that when I laid my eyes on him, a smile instantly grew on my face and the ache in my chest faded somewhat. "Captain Yearnshaw," I exclaimed. "What a surprise! I hope you are doing well?"
"Indeed, indeed, nothing more than irritated with the devils that run this blasted organisation!" He grumbled, standing to shake my hand warmly. He easily cleared me by a foot. "And you, Amelia, how have you been? Any news to share?"
"None at all, Mr Arrow is well and he and I are just going about our business as usual – but what in the Heavens are you doing here?" I asked, motioning around the room. "Surely you are not going off world, after all these years?"
Yearnshaw stood a little taller and smiled. "I am indeed. Mary is not so enthusiastic to see me go but I for one can hardly wait, even if it is just flying the flag around the Cloud on some beaten old thing. Testing some old reserve ships apparently. Not exactly like the old days but I will not turn up my nose to the opportunity. It has been far too long since I last got a taste of the Etherium."
"Well, that is wonderful news. I suppose we are both here for the same reasons then."
"Yes, look sharp! I've been waiting here for an hour and all I need are some bloody hard-tack! However, you might have more luck. Superintendent Mason and I have never got along and I believe he makes me wait twice as long purely out of spite."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, when have I ever visited the Victualling Yard without expecting an extensive wait just to see a superintendent?"
"I swear they do it on purpose, Amelia, which is far beyond my reasoning – you would think two organizations so closely related such as the Navy Office and the Admiralty would have a bond stronger than brothers, yet they treat us like nothing more than filth on the sole of their shoes!"
Poor Captain Yearnshaw settled back into his seat with his arms crossed, his one foot tapping against a patterned rug. I smirked and shed my overcoat and hat, hanging both on a stand near the door, listening to my friend's gripes and groans with dark humour. "Well, not all families are so closely intimate." I said. I choose to sit on the couch opposite him and crossed my legs smartly. "What's that proverb again – 'familiarity breeds contempt'? The Navy Office knows so much about the Admiralty's dealings that they could not help but to grow a disdain for its affiliates…and I for one can hardly blame them."
"Bah! Navy Office, Admiralty, what is the difference anymore? They both believe that an efficient business is to be achieved through a thorough paper-trail rather than through good workers and able minds."
"Business is the problem – the Navy is a service, and not made to generate a profit. It should not be run as such."
"Precisely! And I frequently remind them as such - but enough about our old wounds - it is a wonder to see you, Amelia." Yearnshaw commented with a grateful smile. "Surely you did not come from Crescentia? A chunk of our late tempest was seen drifting that a-way, what awful luck should you have had to battle your way through that monstrosity!"
I dismissed Yearnshaw's worry with a flick of my wrist. "Well, we were blessed with a warning from Captain Marsh. She was headed back up the Magellan Current when she happened to pass us, and she was kind enough to send a warning. We were more than prepared by the time that storm struck, thanks to her part."
"Ha! Old Marsh managed to squeeze her way through, did she! She is exceptionally lucky, then. Winds were blowing a-gale when her request to leave was permitted. I had to fight off a dozen trading ships who complained about unfairness when I allowed her to run through and forced them to stay. Even when I reminded them that her ship was over twice the size of their little schooners and that they would surely be torn apart, they still accused me of playing favourites."
"Yes, some civilians can be so quick to label us as uncaring…" I said pointedly, suppressing a sly smirk of satisfaction.
My jab had been directed at Doctor Doppler, who at that moment was still lingering at the threshold to the antechamber, hidden in the shadows, waiting for an invitation to sit down or to even remove his overcoat. I refused to acknowledge him and left him there. Even Yearnshaw seemed to not even notice he was in the room as we began to chat more in depth about the weather and the troubles the storm had caused around port. Yearnshaw, being in charge of the Navy's representation here, has had quite a bit of damage to address before he could prepare for his own departure. Some of his men were loaned to help upholster some storm defences for the civilian side of the port, yet alone the naval docks, and he went on about which ships needed what refitting and the ones needing to be dry-docked for repairs. Eventually, I made some polite enquiries about his up-coming voyage and I sat there, listening intently, gathering up information to feed back to Mr Arrow during tonight's supper.
Our conversation was interrupted, however, when Doctor Doppler somehow managed to knock over the coat-stand. It fell to the floor with a bang, forcing Yearnshaw's eyes to dart directly to him while I reacted with nothing more than an instinctive flick of my ear. Yearnshaw, for a brief few seconds, seemed aghast at the sight of a civilian in the Captain's waiting room (they, again, have a separate room). "I say, good man," He gestured to the door. "I do believe you are in the wrong room! The waiting room for civilians is back down the hall, onto the left…unless he is with you, Captain Amelia?"
I glanced at the Doctor from over my shoulder, feigning disinterest. The Canid, blushing furiously, was scrambling to put the rack right.
"Yes, this one is mine." I said flatly. "Captain Yearnshaw, this is Doctor Doppler from Montressor, the financier of my current excursion. Doctor, allow me to introduce Captain John Yearnshaw of Waystation Victoria's Royal Naval Base."
Yearnshaw respectfully stood, towering over the Doctor as he approached, and reached to shake his hand. "An honour to meet you, Doctor. Allow me to welcome you here to Waystation Victoria."
The Doctor returned the greeting with some stumbling over his own words. "Oh – uh, thank you, and - it is my honour, Captain – t-to meet your acquaintance."
"Please forgive my earlier comment and ignorance of your presence. Had I known you were travelling with the Captain-"
"Ah - no offence taken, I-"
"Yes, yes, pleasantries aside, please. You may sit, Doctor, if you wish." I interjected rather stiffy, wanting nothing more than for the Doctor to cease his useless blathering.
Yearnshaw looked at me rather surprised I would address the Doctor so coldly but he did not make a verbal comment. Instead, he sat back down, but I could see his amber eyes moving between the Doctor and I with wary interest.
"Tell me, Captain," I said, completely ignoring the Doctor as he sat down on the couch opposite mine. "I have heard some dastardly rumours about our 'delightful' neighbours across the borders – are they the reason the Admiralty thinks it necessary to break out a few old warships for reuse?"
At the mere mention of the Procyons, Captain Yearnshaw's face darkened and he grew more serious. "What have you heard?" He asked, one of his antennas twitching with tension.
"Captain Marsh mentioned an incident with some fishermen. Is there truth in that rumour?"
Yearnshaw shifted uncomfortably. "Aye, I hate to confirm it – but the whole ordeal is being swept under the carpet. A lot of diplomatic nonsense about not wanting things to escalate but…the Admiralty have all of a sudden made a lot of strange movements. They've been dipping their hands into their pockets more frequently of late."
"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow. "Well, we both know what a rare occurrence that is."
"Aye, and I have heard there are more ships being lined up, more patrols ordered, and even more squadrons being pulled together to perform them."
"Captain Marsh said something similar…about doubling patrols and sending them about the frontiers."
Yearnshaw suddenly leant forward in his seat and lowered his voice. "There's something else as well - rumours are that they are even thinking of opening up a few more flag-ranks in command."
By now, both my eyebrows were lifted up to my hairline and the cogs were turning in my mind. "Well now…maybe you won't be stuck on this rock for much longer, Captain."
"Ha! I doubt it – there are a dozen Commodores and Captains ahead of me in seniority, yourself included – but one does wonder, if they also mean to begin drawing the reserves in too. It was in the paper this morning, rumours that old bonny McBruce is coming back out of retirement."
"Commodore Fergus McBruce?"
"Indeed – and there were some Lieutenants spotted running letters between the Admiralty at New Machura and the residence of Captain Cartle. He went to the Reserves like yourself after the Kattindog War and now one thinks if the Admiralty mean to tempt him back into the service. If that is true, and the Navy is starting to pull back in some veterans, then I would expect them to be knocking on your door by the end of the year. If they do not, then they are all fools."
There was suddenly a horrible feeling in my gut.
I am not quite sure what it was. Dread? Hope? Guilt?
Whatever it was, it was a nasty feeling. It caught me off guard and now it was my turn to shift in my seat. "Ah…well, I can hardly go back – circumstances being what they were…"
I was struggling to find an appropriate response. I did not want to pursue that line of conversation – not there, not then, not with him in the room. He was already vaguely aware of my reasons for leaving the Navy and I did not wish for him to learn anything more.
But Yearnshaw stayed adamantly on topic. "You should be the first person at the top of their list, ma'am!" He insisted vehemently. "And the Admiralty would be damned not to do everything in their power to seduce you back into the ranks. They were erroneous for forcing your departure in such a way, and the Navy has only suffered since!"
Doctor Doppler, sat at the other end of Yearnshaw's couch, suddenly had his eyes trained on me as though he was analysing my reaction. I kept my face as impartial as possible - although I could hardly not colour at hearing Yearnshaw's praise. "Captain, you are too kind…" I said slowly, stalling to think up an appropriate response in such a minefield of a conversation. "I am sure the Navy has plodded along rather happily without me causing rifts in the Admiralty."
"No, no, Captain, I speak the truth. The Navy would only be bettered by your presence. I mean – just look at your history! There was that time you saved all those ships with that bright fireship idea of yours, your cunning at the Diablo Strait and the Celeste Nebula, the Kattindog War – you received a medal for that one, did you not?"
The conversation was steadily growing past my line of comfort. I swallowed, very aware that Doctor Doppler was listening closely. He stayed perfectly still and made no attempt to join the conversation nor dissuade its path, probably enjoying himself while watching me grow more and more embarrassed. Since when had our roles reversed?
I had to fight to keep the edge of annoyance out of my voice. "I did but Captain Yearnshaw, I had not realised you had such an interest in my career-"
"How could one not follow your achievements, Captain? A decade or so ago they would consistently make the pages of the Naval Chronicle." Yearnshaw laughed, oblivious to my discomfort. "Every other week there seemed to be some kind of announcement or your name would crop up in a report. But – uh, which medal was it, again?"
"The…Green Badge of Honour-"
"Oh, of course! I remember now, you had barely been a midshipman for five minutes and you already had a nice shiny medal to pin to your dress blues – ha! Made the rest of us rather envious, if I must say…but no, Captain, if the Admiralty are truly intending on shaking up the ranks in such a way, then I would also expect them to try and tempt you back in. Your history speaks for itself. I dread to imagine how many lives would have been lost if you were absent for those precious moments? Your talents are wasted as a for-hire."
And then – to my horror – he did something I was wishing he would never do – he turned to Doctor Doppler, slapping him heartily on the shoulder, bringing him directly into the conversation!
"Why, Doctor," Yearnshaw continued, insensible to the looks of pure alarm on both the Doctor and I's faces. "You must be impressed to have hired yourself one of the finest Captains in the Empire!"
The Doctor flinched at the Captain's touch and paled nearly as much as I did! He glanced at me with panicked eyes, as though seeking guidance on what to say, and despite everything that had happened, I was happy to oblige. "Your praise is too much, Captain," I rejected, desperately attempting to unfreeze my spine and pry the conversation away from its current course, but it did little to sway Yearnshaw's attention.
"Nonsense!" He said and smiled at me. "Your achievements are always worth the praise, Captain. I am sure Doctor Doppler here also shares the same opinion."
It slowly dawned on me that my dear friend Yearnshaw had switched into what I like to call his 'socialite' mode. As you must recollect, I had mentioned earlier that Captain Yearnshaw is quite the extrovert and his frequent experiences of social gatherings has made him a master of drawing together groups of strangers to converse as casually as friends. The man can break ice better than any ice harvester and navigate an awkward conversation as easy as a ship through clear space. It is a skill he has been able to perfect since becoming marooned here. Before I had considered it a virtue – how many times had I been thankful for Yearnshaw's intervention when moments had become uneasily silent? Now, it had become more of a vice! Yearnshaw, obviously a stranger to Doctor Doppler, had decided not to further leave the man out of our conversation and instead use his talents to draw him in – and there was little I could do to prevent this.
While I sat there, my mouth suddenly dry at this realisation, the Doctor eventually forced an unpersuasive smile and nodded. "Oh…uh, yes, of course…"
Yearnshaw was not convinced. He sensed the Doctor's hesitation and his eyes widened slightly. He asked incredulously, "Do you not, Doctor?" as a gentle coax for him to converse more.
"Oh – of course I do! It's just that…I, uh, well…I don't actually know much-"
"Were you not sensible of Captain Amelia's esteemed career when you hired her, Doctor?"
Doctor Doppler's hands began to move – rubbing the back of his neck, gesturing into thin air, resting on his knees – as though they were uncertain of where to stay to appear most casually. "Well I had…I had heard…I-no, no I wasn't – and Captain Amelia has not told me much about her history in the Navy…"
The accusation caused me to look sharply at the Doctor. I glared at him so much so that I hoped it conveyed just how much I would rather burn in Hell than for him to learn anything more about me. But now that that the Doctor had become the focus of the discussion, he had torn his eyes away from me, missing my glare, and turned them to the floor while blushing deeply.
"Doctor Doppler is not truly the one who hired me, Captain." I said, cutting the Doctor off to save face. "The Admiralty decided to sponsor Doctor Doppler's expedition by providing him with a ship and someone to command it. Doctor Doppler and I had no idea of the other's existence prior to setting sail. He had not heard of me, and I not of him."
"Oh, well, that explains it then!" Yearnshaw turned to the Doctor once more. "Doctor, you have the honour of spacing under the command of one of the finest Captains to serve in Her Majesty's Navy. I have known the Captain here personally for a number of years and would be all too happy to endorse her services and skill."
The Doctor replied with an enthusiastic nod. "Oh, yes, I h-have no doubt about that." He said, twisting his hands together. "Mr Arrow – the first mate – he made it very clear before the launch that there was no finer officer in the Navy…I count myself very lucky to be aboard the Legacy."
Are you sure about that, Doctor? I thought to myself bitterly. Because I could have sworn it was only yesterday you were undermining my orders and insulting my character?
Of course, I did not voice such thoughts. Instead, I remained silent for I had nothing to say to him – not at least in the presence of Captain Yearnshaw. Speaking of whom, he must have felt the tense few seconds that fell once the Doctor's statement had ended and he swiftly moved in with his own words.
"True, true, very true indeed. And you say the Captain has neglected you of any tales of her illustrious career?" Yearnshaw laughed. "I am surprised at you, Captain. I believe you to be very cruel to do such a thing to a man!"
"Well, you know me, Captain," I replied, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off my knee. "I don't see the point in indulging with such stories."
"Ah, you see, Doctor, I am quite the opposite – I love to do nothing more than recollect old memories of such days. My days of spacing through the Etherium, exploring new worlds and battling foes, they may be far behind me but I do miss them dearly." Yearnshaw said with a slight smile, his eyes beginning to glitter the way they habitually do when he slips into these nostalgic recollections.
The Doctor too began to slowly smile and he adjusted his spectacles. "I can only imagine…you must have had quite some adventures. I am afraid all I know about such things are the ones I have read in my books…"
"Is this voyage your first one, Doctor?"
"Yes, I've never been into space before."
"And how are you finding it?"
"Well…it's been…certainly educating."
I struggled to suppress a smirk, thinking about the Doctor's spacesickness, his disastrous launch experience, our hot-and-cold relationship. Perhaps 'degrading' would have been a more suitable adjective.
"May I enquire on what is the nature of your voyage? I know that Captain Amelia here engages in many different kinds of voyages for different purposes, but I must admit, it is very rare for the Navy themselves to sponsor any kind of voyage outside of our own forces. Is it some for some kind of scientific research?"
Here, I leapt back into the conversation very quickly, cutting in before the Doctor could fumble and drop any vital information. As much as I respect Yearnshaw and have no doubt I would have his word, some walls have ears and I still believe that the fewer people who know the true nature of our expedition the better. I am sure Yearnshaw will one day forgive me.
"Some research business tied with the Astromet Office." I lied, keeping my voice nonchalant. "Doctor Doppler here writes for the Shipping Forecast – the Crescentia section, at the very least."
There was some truth in that, enough to make the lie believable and enough for Yearnshaw to raise a brow in respectful surprise. "Truly? The Shipping Forecast? That is very interesting indeed. May I ask what you are researching, Doctor?"
"Ah-well, I – uh – my apologies but I can't disclose that just yet. Not until the Office is ready to make a statement." The Doctor coughed awkwardly. It was a rather smooth lie, nonetheless, and thank goodness he had enough brains to not blab about the true nature of our voyage.
"Ah, of course." Yearnshaw nodded. "Well, Doctor, I must say that your work is very important to us spacers – we rely on those reports from the Astromet Office constantly. May I thank you for your service to us. It truthfully means a great deal."
The Doctor reddened. "Oh, Captain, p-please – my work is not nearly as noble and impressive as the achievements of you spacers."
I did not fail to notice that his eyes lingered on me as he said this.
"No, I must insist." Yearnshaw continued. "The report we received about the hurricane that recently plagued us – Captain Amelia has informed me that you encountered a part of it aboard the Legacy – gave us enough forewarning to save lives. Ships were grounded, houses boarded up and such. Without the Astromet's work there, we would not have been as prepared."
It is true – as I have said before, the Astromet's work is vital to spacers. Practically a life-line. Even if the man is as dull as a brush sometimes and can be as irritating as a flea-bite, I cannot help but still hold a high regard for his work in that respect.
"Yes – I-I understand - the Captain has said something similar to me in the past…but I don't think it is fair to compare sitting at a telescope to such heroic deeds. Err, didn't you just say that the Captain once saved a few ships once? Something about a fire-ship?"
So he was listening – and was sniffing about for more details no doubt! And Yearnshaw had just admitted how he adores to regale in tales of the old days – oh, the manipulation! I would never have thought the Doctor to be capable of such a thing! – so he fell straight for it, glad for the opening if anything, and dove in head-on to start retelling the tale to Doctor Doppler. All I good do was give the Doctor an icy look. I doubt he noticed; he was far to busy avoiding my eyes.
"She did indeed! Seven ships, I believe, I shall have to count! We had seized a couple of prize-ships during a battle with some pirates and our Captain had given us each one to command as part of a prize-crew. We were sailing them back to the nearest port to claim our shares when–"
I had steeled myself for a length retelling of that fateful battle and had just opened my mouth to protest against it, when the click of the anteroom chamber door opening caught my ear. I glanced over my shoulder swiftly and nearly sighed with relief to see the solemn face of one of the clerks here. Yearnshaw's tale died on his lips as the clerk announced that the superintendent was now ready to meet with me. Swiftly, I leapt to my feet and tried my best not to look so relieved. "Well, Captain, it has been wonderful to see you and I am sorry but it seems that we must part yet again."
"Oh yes – but I don't suppose you are staying in port for a few days, Captain?" A disappointed Yearnshaw enquired as the Doctor and I gathered our overcoats. "Only Mary and I are having a little do before my departure and you and the Doctor here are most welcome to join us. It has been too long since I last saw you dance an allemande – and Captain Trevelyan is to be in attendance, he has been asking about you ever since your last visit here."
I laughed politely at this and shook my head. "Well I must disappoint the both of you – I am insistent to leave port again before this evening. Our voyage is running on a tight schedule and that storm has already delayed us enough."
Yearnshaw took the rejection with grace. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and rose from his seat to say his departures. "Of course, of course, maybe on your way back to Crescentia then?"
"Perhaps – only if you are still here, of course, and not off on a voyage of your own!" I replied with a grin.
"Ha! Perhaps, perhaps. I shall tell Captain Trevelyan then, I am sure he will find some excuses to stick around until then." He laughed as well with a wink. "Well then, Doctor, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I wish you the best of luck with your research and I hope you get to taste all the wonders the Etherium has offer."
The Doctor graciously responded with the same compliments and thanked Yearnshaw for his company. We both took our turn to shake Yearnshaw's hand prior to departing the room, and I left a little more grateful to see the back of Yearnshaw than I had to see him to begin with!
With that frightful moment over, the rest of the day had continued just the way I imagined it: exhausting, and frustratingly depressing.
Doctor Doppler and I spent an hour or two in the office of superintendent Klapp, a blue-skinned individual with violet tendrils as a substitute for hair. It was a tiring, exasperating meeting that consisted of nothing more than checking through paperwork, the putting in of orders, and the exchanging of cheques and bills. The natural coldness that comes with officiants of the Navy Board never does help these matters, and makes them all the more draining. By the end of it, we had secured the delivery of half a dozen crates worth of fresh produce at two o'clock and an appointment with an electrician for the Legacy to be recalibrated by three o'clock. A little while was spent arguing about the cost of some marrows – I noticed as I ran an eye down the bill that they were double the price they traditionally were. Doctor Doppler was about to sign away the cheque when I ordered him to stop mid-signature.
"The Cavadern marrows are charged as one shilling each?"
Superintendent Klapp gave me a thin smile. "Yes, some crops have been written off due to the weather. Farmers are increasing their prices to make up for the short-fall in produce."
"Yet I passed not three merchant stalls while on my merry way here with a stock full? And the price was not more than few pennies more? So where has the charge of a full shilling come from?"
There was a tense pause. Klapp twirled a feather pen between his long fingers. "If you have a complaint about the – "
"I will not be going to mister so-and-so in office up-the-stairs-and-third-on-the-right to collect form-six-B-and-section-twelve only to sit in the waiting room another hour to be told to wait three days for a response!" I snapped. "I am telling you that I want that price reduced now or Doctor Doppler will take his money elsewhere!"
The pen twirled as Klapp pursed his lips. "I can reduce the price to ten pence-"
"Eight."
"I am afraid my superiors will not accept anything less than ni-"
"Eight pence per marrow and not a halfpenny more. I am sure neither of us would appreciate the thought of a gentleman – one sponsored by the Admiralty themselves – leaving this office with the impression of being fleeced by Navy Board."
Klapp stared.
I stared right back.
I had thought we had reached a stalemate when he dipped the pen back into its ink well and began to make adjustments. "Eight pence it shall be, Captain."
And such are the dealings with the Navy Board – they can be as ruthless as any common merchant and will pocket any profits where they see they can slip in. The extra four pence a marrow would only go into the banks of those in charge of the Yard and the Navy itself would see not a single halfpence of it, the slippery devils!
I was glad to be out of there not thirty minutes later, even if it was with a folder of paperwork thicker coming away than it was going in. I took a brief second in the Templeton House reception area to tuck it under my overcoat as protection from the drizzling rain, and that was when the Doctor decided to address me for the first time since leaving the Legacy.
"Thank you…" He said quietly, but those two words somehow cause a spike of pain in my chest.
I ignored it and rose an eyebrow sharply. "What for?" I demanded.
"For…for not letting me be overcharged back there. I-I would never have known-"
"No need to, Doctor. Let us be off." I replied bluntly, hugged the folder of paperwork tightly against my twinging chest, and marched straight out the front doors. The Doctor was left to run after me, battling against the wind with his pitiful umbrella.
We arrived back at the Legacy soon after, and I had never been so grateful and relieved to see Arrow's face.
He gave me a mirthful look when I finally stepped back on deck, drenched and soaked, still as grim as the moment I left. "I take it the visit to the Victualling Yard went smoothly, ma'am?" He asked with a salute.
"Yes," I grumbled and mounted the flight of stairs to my cabin. "We can expect our delivery by two-hundred-hours, Mr Arrow – and make sure Mr Silver inspects the goods while they're still on the dockside. I had to wrangle with the superintendent to reduce the prices, I have no doubt he will try and get his revenge in some other way. If they do try to pawn off some rotten vegetables to us, I do not want those things boarding my ship under any circumstances."
"Aye, ma'am!"
"Oh - and someone should be along not long after that to recalibrate the electrics. They should know their own way around but if they do request a guide, please lend your own services or send a messenger to me. Do not leave them with the crew alone. Now, do you have anything to report?"
"No ma'am, all has been well here. The crew are a little disgruntled that they do not have shore leave but nothing too concerning. I have made it very clear to them that those who choose to desert will be left behind without pay."
"Very good. You may be relieved of your watch, Mr Arrow. Will you care to join me after lunch in my stateroom? I have been able to harvest some rather interesting scuttle-butt you may be interested in hearing."
Arrow turned to me with an enquiring look. "Oh? That sounds intriguing indeed, ma'am. I shall join you in your stateroom momentarily?"
"Of course," I said and waved him away.
With Arrow returning below decks, I began to make my way to my own cabin when I was stopped just short of the door by none other than Doctor Doppler. I heard him approach from behind, his telling footsteps betraying his position, and he called out to me just as my hand rested on the door's lock.
"C-Captain?"
I froze. Can't this man just leave me be, I wondered to myself. "Yes, Doctor?"
"May I, uh, have a word with you – please?" He asked quietly.
I glanced over my shoulder at him and gave him a flat look. "I am rather busy, Doctor. I have paperwork to complete."
"I-I promise I won't take much of your time!" The Doctor insisted with a note of panic in his voice. His eyes suddenly became incredibly nitid with a mute appeal– as though he was on the edge of tears. Ha! 'Puppy-dog eyes' indeed.
"Come back after supper, then." I replied, wanting nothing more than to shut myself away and not have to see his face for the rest of the day. "I have much work to complete today; I have no time for words. Go to the wardroom and have your lunch, Doctor. I will still be here after."
He opened his mouth to argue but wisely shut it when I arched an eyebrow as a warning. The proverbial tail went neatly between his legs and the Doctor stepped away. "…Yes, Captain. After supper."
And with that, I slunk into my cabin without a farewell, shutting the door in his face for good measure.
Arrow arrived not too long after to find me neglecting my lunch in favour of sorting through my paperwork and updating this very logbook. The lunch brought by Mr Hawkins – a salad made of some vegetables that were far too ripe – had not settled well in my stomach and so, I had only managed a few bites before pushing the plate away. Even my tea left a bitter taste in my mouth and was eventually abandoned to grow cold and congeal. Thus when Arrow entered my stateroom to see me shifting through endless sheets of paper, he tutted and began to scold me.
"I hope you are not intending to starve yourself, ma'am." He said in light mockery as he shook droplets of rain off his tricorn hat.
"No, Arrow, I simply do not have the appetite." I muttered. "After the morning I have had, I believe I need something stronger than tea."
Arrow chuckled and drew up his chair. "Yes, and how was your trip to the Victualling Yard?"
"Positively delightful." I said sarcastically with a roll of my eyes (one of Arrow's features that I love so dearly, is his dauntless ability to coax out my more playful side no matter my mood simply by gracing me with his presence). "I miraculously ran into Captain Yearnshaw at Templeton House. He was waiting for a superintendent too, for he will be going offshore rather soon."
"Oh? That is good news. I am sure he must have been thrilled."
"He was delighted, of course, but it is the nature of his voyage that is the most interesting part." I replied and leaned in closer, the volume of my voice dropping slightly. "You do recall the piece of gossip Captain Marsh was able to give us? About the Procyons turning their cannons on some unsuspecting fishermen?"
Arrow nodded grimly. "Aye?"
"Well, Captain Yearnshaw has told me today that the diplomats are brushing it all under the carpet…but the Admiralty are beginning to move their chess pieces around. Captain Yearnshaw has been tasked with testing a few Heavy Escorts if they are suitable for reuse."
"Heavy Escorts, ma'am?"
"Yes – Lytton and Victoria, apparenty. They have been out of commission since the last Procyon War - I believe one of them was used a museum over on Pelsinor for some time - but they are due to arrive here within a few days, and then Yearnshaw is to take them for a lap of the Cloud to see if they are 'fit'." I said. Arrow raised a questioning eyebrow at the choice of terminology, which I acknowledged with a look of my own. "I know – what exactly does the Admiralty define as 'fit' and why are they looking to refurbish two warships when the Empire is at peace – well, as peaceful as it can get, I suppose."
"I suppose this has something to do with the Procyons, ma'am?"
I nodded firmly. "I suspect so. The ambassadors may be hoping this whole fishermen affair will blow over but the Admiralty are not taking any chances, by the looks of things. I would not be surprised if our First Space Lord is taking a census of all the fighting ships in the Navy's power – including the ones that may be in need of a bit of polishing up – and according to Yearnshaw and Marsh, the Admiralty have certainly been busy in our short absence from the grapevine. Not only are they bringing ships out of retirement, but apparently they are now pursing to commission some old veterans as well."
This took Arrow by surprise. His mouth opened and he sat up sharply. "How so?" He asked incredulously.
"These are only rumours, of course, but Yearnshaw said that Commodore McBruce is due to be returning and perhaps Captain Cartle too – and also there are plans to open up a few more places for flag-officers. It seems the Admiralty are keen to expand their power somewhat and I can see no other reason for this other than to strengthen our defences against our rancid neighbours. It all makes sense; it is exactly what I would do."
"As would any sensible spacer," Arrow noted as he reclined in his seat and crossed his large arms. "But this certainly feels as though the Admiralty is setting the tinder amongst the firewood. Of course, it is far too early to say if this shall amount into anything more than some tense meetings at the embassies."
"Indeed, but when was the last time you saw a shake-up in the forces like this?"
Arrow shrugged. "The largest would have been right before the Mad King's campaign against the Procyons, ma'am – and of course, there was some slight reorganisation just as you joined the Navy. An overhaul in the forces can occur after any diplomatic mishap. It would be worth keeping this in mind, but I would not take these rumours so seriously just yet. So – this is the gossip you have harvested from your visit to the Victualling Yard?"
"It is; the mention of the ships intrigued me but it was the rumour about Commodore McBruce and Captain Cartle that really turned my head. Ships can be refurbished and reused at any time, of course, but how often do you hear about an officer returning from retirement?"
"The occurrence is sporadic." Arrow noted. "Especially for an officer like McBruce. A veteran like him, one would assume he retired to enjoy the rest of his life in idyllic rest. Someone must have pulled some strings in order to win him back into the Navy."
I concurred with Arrow's statement and wrapped up my paperwork, shuffling it all together to return to my cupboard. A pause fell upon us; the elephant concerning retired officers returning to the force was evidently in the room. Arrow, however, knew better than to breach that subject and instead began to enquire about the rest of my visit to the Victualling Yard.
"How was Doctor Doppler?" He asked carefully while my back was turned. "Did he behave himself today?"
I temporarily froze as I locked my cupboard door. By the mere mention of him, he seemed to swim before my eyes like a ghostly apparition – specifically, the moment when he pleaded for a moment of my time and his eyes shone with a strange emotion. I am grateful for the fact Arrow could not see my face, as my face inconveniently flushed.
"He did," I finally replied to Arrow with a checked tone and busied myself with tucking my key into my pocket so I would not have to meet his eye. "He has requested an audience with me this afternoon."
"Oh? Do you suppose he means to apologise for his insult?"
"I can hardly imagine what else he has to say – unless it is to insult me further." I scoffed. "No, I can only assume he wishes to apologise."
Arrow's chair creaked as he shifted in it. "I believe he regretted his words rather quickly after they left his tongue, ma'am. As I said yesterday, he seemed very contrite during our discussion in the wardroom. I suppose he must have been nursing some guilt all night – had he said anything to you while you were at the Victualling Yard?"
I remembered a specific moment well; the tone of his voice, the carefully chosen words, the lingering gaze on me as he spoke. My work is not nearly as noble and impressive as the achievements of you spacers.
"He thanked me for saving him from being swindled by the Navy Board. That was all."
Arrow was not fooled, especially as I excused myself again from turning to face him by straightening the collar of my coat. Even with my back to him, I could feel his stare. I knew no matter how I tried to reset my face into a blank mask, Arrow would see through it as he always has.
"If the Doctor does truly apologise for his insubordination, Captain…will you forgive him?"
Would I forgive him?
Now, that truly was the question of the day.
I pursed my lips tightly, turned and sat back down. Rather than meeting Arrow's eyes, I took a sip of my long-cold tea as I thought. "I will accept his apology, but I hardly believe that he is worthy of my forgiveness. What would be the point? In another fortnight, I am sure he will throw some other insult in my face."
"And how are you so sure that will happen?"
"From experience, obviously." I retorted. "I have been nothing but cordial with the Doctor ever since our last spat and he has repaid me with such poor treatment. I am sure that another two weeks of geniality will only end in such another event."
Arrow said nothing; he only raised a stony finger to rub his impressive chin. I finally looked up and saw that he was lost in thought. I let him sit there, pensive, for a few seconds before niggling feeling in my chest won out.
"Do you believe I should forgive him?"
Arrow took no time in answering. "I do." He said decisively.
My eyebrows raised up at this. I shot back, "Why?"
"Because I believe that if you choose to hold a grudge against the Doctor, and as a result avoid his company as you are sure to do, then you will only feel unhappiness."
For a brief moment, Arrow's response had caused me to become quite disorientated. I lost my words and could only react with the widening of my eyes and my body jolting upright. Bewildered, I searched Arrow for an explanation. "W-what in Heaven's name rendered you to come to such a conclusion?" I asked. There was no hiding my reddening cheeks now; my face was flushed with implications of such an idea.
"Because it is quite evident, Captain, that you have taken a liking to the man."
"Excuse me?"
Arrow ignored the indignant expression on my face and instead gave me a knowing look, as though he was aware of the punchline of a joke while I was kept in the dark. "You must have noticed by now, Captain, that your treatment of Doctor Doppler has gone above and beyond your usual habits – both the positive and the negative. When he vexes you, you are more affected by his insults than you have ever been by any other typical financier-"
"You are affecting me now, Arrow – this talk is an affront to my very nature! Are you calling me unprofessional?"
"No, ma'am, but some souls can form an instant tether over very little substance. I first noticed it during our supper with Doctor Doppler. You were more enrapt in that conversation than I ever have seen you while engaging with a civilian-"
"I've never had to broach the subject of treasure maps and lost planets with anyone, yet alone a civilian! How could I not be invested in such a subject?"
"And then inviting him to further meals? Seeking him out directly to share some tea? Teaching him how to navigate? Captain, it is obvious to anyone who knows you that you enjoy the Doctor's company - and before you object, that is no crime, ma'am; there is no law that says you cannot be friendly with your financer. The life of a spacer may be solitary, but that does not mean you are forbidden from forming a few connections."
"All this talk of tethers and connections, Arrow, you have truly lost your senses." My voice was very thick as I spoke.
Arrow had exposed me and lay before me my very faults: I was losing myself around Doctor Doppler, and the relationship was breaching the boundary between an employer and employee, of acquaintances, and straying into the lands of close amity. My mask of authority was slipping and our interactions falling into ones affected by familiarity. Sometimes, these bonds cannot be avoided: in the Navy, a certain comradery will form between shipmates, and Arrow himself is the closest thing I have to a family now. But between a Captain and a financier, a man I have only known for all of two weeks and shall never see again once this voyage is terminated? What does it say about me, and my practices as a Captain, if I went around rubbing elbows with those who seek to employ me, to learn about their personal lives – the intimacies of their lives, their cursed family relations, oh damned it all!
I have been a fool to allow my emotions run so freely, allowing myself to overstep certain boundaries. My conduct has been too much, too overreaching – if I had been firmer with the Doctor from the start, then perhaps he never would have felt at liberty to rebuke my commands.
The misery of missing the Doctor's company during last night's watch resurfaced to my mind, and thus they confirmed Arrow's suspicions: I did enjoy the Doctor's company, far more than I ever have any past financier.
And that must change.
"And you believe…" I said very slowly, horrified as I could no longer deny my faults. "That I should forgive him for cutting me so deeply over enjoying a little chat now and then? That I should let him get away with insulting me just so I can have a pleasant talk to him about – about navigation?"
"I believe you should forgive him in order to spare yourself the misery of being without his company for the rest of this voyage."
"I don't need his company; I have you."
"And you always shall," Arrow replied softly. "But from what I saw in the wardroom last night, Doctor Doppler is regretting his words to you immensely and I strongly believe that he will apologise to you this afternoon – and I also strongly believe that if you choose to let this animosity continue, then you will only feel desolate until we return to Crescentia."
"So I should just forgive him? And let the whole galaxy know that is perfectly reasonable to insult me as long as one is sorry afterwards?" I exclaimed. "Arrow, he accused me of being flippant, he compared me to – to –"
"He unknowingly compared you to Admiral Laurent, and had he known I doubt the Doctor would strike so low-"
"I thought him incapable of striking as low as he did! And look at how wrong I was!" Finally, I gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back in my chair. I could no longer bear to look at Arrow and instead turned my eyes up to the ceiling. They stung terribly as I stared up at the lamp above my head. "You are right, Arrow, I have enjoyed his company too much recently – but I cannot see that as a fair enough reason to forgive him. Accepting his apology is the most I shall do; I shall not fraternise with Doctor Doppler any longer."
Arrow sounded startled. "Captain, you misinterpret– "
"If you can see clearly that I am being over-friendly with Doctor Doppler, then so can the crew and the Doctor himself. I will not allow it to continue. I have an image to uphold, Arrow. I am the Captain, I am in command. I am no-one's bosom friend – apart from yours but that, I can never hide. You are my family, and the Doctor is nothing more than my financier. After this voyage, he will mean nothing at all to me and that is how it should be."
"Captain-"
"I will not argue on the subject anymore. I have made my decision."
Finally, Arrow relented. He gave a struggled sigh of his own and let some of the tension slide from his posture. He stood up, readjusted his hat on his head and finally inclined a bow in my direction. "Aye…ma'am." He spoke, but to my ears he sounded pained. "My greatest wish in this life is to see you happy, Amelia - if this is what you believe shall make you happy, then I sincerely hope that you are right."
Generally, Arrow is the man who soothes my worries and lifts all and any weight off my shoulders with his wise words of advice.
Today was not one of those days.
In fact, after his dejection of my decision to not to forgive Doctor Doppler for his insult and how he tore open my eyes to how quickly I have been growing overly-affable with the Doctor, he has left me feeling the complete opposite. My gut has been tying itself into knots all day since. His persistence that I turn to forgiveness, and put aside my pride for the sake of pitiful happiness has frustrated me. Why could he not see things through my eyes? How could he expect me to forgive so easily, and not expect nor care about any repercussions of this?
For once in my life, I have found myself rejecting his advice.
In the meantime, I have been busy with my duties around the ship. Our delivery arrived right on time, and lo and behold, Mr Silver's inspection of the goods revealed a couple of rotten marrows. Word was sent to me and I descended to the dockside to lay my own eyes on the offensive items. True enough, a few had wrinkled flesh and were beginning to turn brown. I held one of the wretched things up and began berating the stevedores. "What is Heaven's name is this? Is the Navy Office attempting to starve us? Take the whole damned crate back, and warn the superintendent that if he tries to pull another stunt like this, I shall gladly shove these marrows up his backside one by one."
The stevedores reddened, and spirited the crate away. They returned not thirty minutes later with a far more suitable goods and a hastily written apology from their overseer which I promptly threw into a nearby brazier once the crew began to stow the goods onboard. Then, to make matters worse, our electrician arrived nearly twenty minutes late and took his own sweet-time recalibrating the Legacy. I constantly paced around the bridge, throwing spiteful glares, of which the electrician completely ignored.
Therefore, it was well into the evening before we were prepared to cast off. The ship was launched once more – this time without the observations of Doctor Doppler - and began to travel down the Saxonite Pass, joining the winding McCollough Current not long after. Joining the McCollough Current was a far soother, easier process than joining the Magellan Current; the winds nearer the Cloud were far weaker and thus calmer. Slipping into the current took not even a fraction of the planning and assistance as joining the Magellan did. In a day or two, the winds shall surely pick up and drive on forward soon enough. For now, they are mostly tranquil and the sky is clear. The Magellanic Cloud is shimmering behind our stern, a glimmering beautiful nebula of cool colours, attesting to its namesake. Its such a beautiful sight but I have not had the time to savour it.
Unfortunately, returning to space has not improve my temperament.
In fact, once the riggers and ropers were dismissed and we finally began to pull away into the clearer skies of space, my mind forbiddingly leapt to how Doctor Doppler would be grateful not to suffer through the rough tides and be spared of his usual spacesickness. I caught myself almost instantly, scowled and prowled off to my cabin to verbally scold myself.
As of right now, we are sailing west-by-northwest, heading two-nine-eight-negative-one-zero. It shall not be long until we can stabilize at absolute horizon. We will have to adjust the heading once or twice further down the Pass so to follow her curve, but that is something I won't have to worry about for a few days yet.
My mind is more preoccupied with my upcoming meeting with Doctor Doppler – and the thought alone only ties more knots in my gut.
The Doctor arrived right on time, straight after supper. I was waiting by my desk when he knocked on the door. My stomach clenched as it rang out through my stateroom but I sat up straight in my chair, folded my hands, and set my face into a passive and neutral expression. It is high time I have control of myself once more, I scolded myself internally. Do not lose your grip on your own emotions.
"Enter."
The door cracked open and inwards came Doctor Doppler.
Instantly, I could tell he was nervous. The Doctor's face was far paler than usual, and his eyes moved warily – first to my face, then to the neglected supper pushed to one side in favour of some papers. He shut the cabin door with a trembling hand which then sought cover in the Doctor's coat pocket. He cleared his throat as he approached my desk slowly, standing before it like a naughty child called to a teacher's office for reprimanding, and stammered out a greeting. "C-Captain."
I kept my voice and my stare steady. "Doctor, I believe you wanted to have a word with me?"
A hand moved up to loosen his collar. "Y-yes, yes, I – I owe you an apology, Captain. Err – a rather…a rather big one."
At least he did not waste any time beating around the bush. The Doctor drew in a large breath while simultaneously attempting to draw together enough courage to face me. The look of desperate pleading in his eyes was undeniable; I kept my face as passive as possible.
"My behaviour yesterday was…inexcusable." He began. "I should have never spoke to you in the way that I did and I was wrong to try and tell you how to do your job. I – I am sorry. Really, really sorry. I…I wish I could take everything back…well, I know that obviously I can't but i-if I could then I-I would...I wish I never said those things."
There was a pause, a tense and perceptible pause, as I absorbed this.
For a few precious seconds, everything seemed to stand still. The ship fell silent. The Doctor waited patiently for my response, his head bowed, eyes glued to the floor. I took a moment to wonder what thoughts were racing through his head, if his heart was beating as fast as mine was at that moment? Was he hoping for forgiveness, or preparing himself for condemnation?
The moment passed and I raised my chin, opened my mouth and spoke.
"Will that be all?"
The Doctor looked up in alarm. "But – d-don't –" He stammered. "– don't you have anything t-to say?"
"What is it that you want me to say?" I asked slowly.
"That…that-" He swallowed, his eyes growing brighter by the second. "That you forgive me? O-or at least accept my apology? Captain, I – I know that I made a mistake, a grievous mistake. I should have trusted your judgement and respected your orders – I-I was just so terrified that Jim would fall…I lost all my senses. Please, forgive this one outburst and…it won't happen again."
"Doctor," I interrupted with a sigh. "To a certain degree, I can…understand why you reacted in such a way when you saw Mr Hawkins over the side of the ship. But Mr Hawkins was never in any danger and even though I told you this multiple times, you insisted on reacting in such a hysterical way."
The Doctor nodded gently. "I know. I-I lost control of myself…I was too blinded by pure panic and fright that I lost sight on what I was doing or saying. Jim is…like a nephew to me. I've known him since he was born and…he is all his mother has left in this world. Her husband is gone, her home and business burnt to the ground, and the only reason she allowed this voyage to go ahead was because she entrusted me with her only son. When I saw Jim so close to open space like that…I had this horrible image of returning without him. I know, Captain, you said that you are the one responsible for everyone on board but…to Sarah, I am the only one responsible for the boy. She left him in my hands and my hands alone. How could I ever go back and look her in the eye if I had let the worse happen?"
To this, I had no answer. I only sat in silence, contemplating. I had always assumed that the Doctor and Mr Hawkins were not particularly close as neither has shown that much interest in the other, apart from the odd comment from Doctor Doppler about the cabin boy's welfare perhaps. It seems that the Doctor's attachment to the boy is not due to a relationship with Mr Hawkins himself but more out of a care for Mr Hawkins' mother. They are evidently close friends, perhaps even more, who knows? Nonetheless, this would explain the Doctor's initial behaviour - although it does not excuse it.
Nor does it excuse the insulting accusation he threw at me in my cabin.
Strangely, it seemed as though the Doctor had read my mind at that moment and continued on. "I know that this does not excuse what I did and…what I said to you later i-in your stateroom but…I am very sorry for what I said – saying that you cared more about people following your orders than you did about their safety…I know now it was wrong – and that it could not be any further from the truth."
"Further…from the truth?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by such a forthright statement.
"Mr Arrow has made it…abundantly clear that you would never put someone, much less a child, in such a position of danger…a-and that you took steps to ensure Jim's safety…and then after hearing Captain Yearnshaw's praise for you today, I realised just how utterly wrong I was. All those things you've done – all those times you've saved others and-"
"I must urge you, Doctor, to dismiss anything you heard in that waiting room today. Captain Yearnshaw has a tendency to exaggerate-" I tried to dissuade this line of thought, for I did not like the idea of someone gilding me with hyperbolic tales of heroism and thus I could never be at any fault, but the Doctor persisted still.
"But-but did you not save those seven ships? Have you not earned a medal for your honour?" He asked pointedly.
My silence gave him his answer.
Then, suddenly, he…looked at me with such openness that I began to feel uncomfortable. It was like I could physically see all the guilt and remorse he felt reflecting in his eyes. How is that even possible? How can one person's eyes give so much away? How can one man wear his emotions so openly, so unashamedly? How could he lay himself bare before me – a stranger? Unless…he believed me to not be a stranger anymore. This thought frightened me but his gaze had caught me and I could not tear my own eyes away.
"All those lives you must have saved that day…" He said so softly that it killed any protest on my lips. "…and I accused you of being selfish."
While I had gathered the Doctor would have been remorseful coming to me this afternoon, I could never have fathomed just how sorry he appeared during that long, long moment. In all honesty, it touched a part of me. I suddenly desired to reach out and touch him, to reassure him with a pat on the arm or some words of kindness; it took every part of my discipline not to react. You are the Captain, not his friend, I reminded myself. And you owe him nothing.
"Doctor-"
"I couldn't have been anymore wrong, could I?"
"Doctor- please-"
"I can only imagine how you felt - dedicating your whole life to protecting others and then someone…someone like me would dare face you down and accuse you of being selfish. I-I know the comment I made must have hurt you-"
"No! No – stop right there." I cried out and abruptly stood. We both faltered, equally surprised by my sudden movement. I swallowed, attempting to pull myself back and ground myself once again in reality. Control yourself, dolt. "You have said your piece – and in light of your inexperience with the ways of ship-life, I accept your apology. Now, you have my permission to leave."
"C-Captain-"
"Drop it, Doctor."
"But Captain, I know that what I said hurt you-"
I felt my own eyes flash with indignation. "You know nothing about me!" I snapped, my lip curling to bare my teeth. Yet the Doctor did not flinch away, and instead stared at me, searching me.
Clearly, I was not fooling him. The way he dared to stare back at me and refused to back down attested to that (looking back now, I actually wonder if he knows more about the circumstances of my departure from the Royal Navy than he is letting on, but then how he would know? Arrow would never have betrayed me in such a way, and Yearnshaw did not expose the details during our meeting at Templeton House, so all I can conclude is if perhaps he has pieced together little snippets of information from our scattered conversations. It is the most plausible conclusion; it is either that, or he has read my mind like a fortune-teller).
At the time, however, I was not concerned about how much the Doctor comprehended about my history; I was more concerned about how with each of the Doctor's fraught pleas for forgiveness, it became more painfully obvious that I have let him assume too much, grow too bold in my presence, and now Doctor Doppler was making presumptions about more personal matters – namely, my emotions and how his actions had affected them, assuming that they had an affect at all. In the past, the only ways financiers had an influence over my emotions was when they annoyed me with their incompetence, selfishness, and greed; none had ever caused me to feel anything close to sympathy, or despondency – until Doctor Doppler.
Take back control, I ordered myself inwardly. Dismiss him and wash your hands clean of him.
"You have apologised and I have accepted it. There! Done! There is nothing more to be said on this matter. Now leave – I have work to do."
Finally, the Doctor backed off, and up towards the door. He reached out to touch the lock. I sat back down and began drawing papers towards me again…but the Doctor did not open the door, nor did he even attempt to turn the lock. I watched him with my head bowed over the paperwork but my eyes shifted up to observe his hand fall from the handle.
"But you do not forgive me…for my wrong-doing?" He asked.
The shifting of papers died. I could not bring myself to look up.
How could I answer him without betraying my history, without admitting openly that I was hurt by his words, that I like every other being had emotions and feelings and he had affected me in a way that very few people ever have? How could he – yet alone the crew should they discover the particulars of this conversation - ever take me seriously as a commander ever again if I did so?
"That will be all, Doctor. You may go."
There was a brief pause. Finally, the Doctor let out a deflated, defeated sigh. Despite my best attempts, it still stung to hear it. "Yes…Captain."
And with that, he left my stateroom silently and shut the door behind him.