A/N: Yeah, the name Revenge just happens to be my feeble attempt at a nod toward "The Princess Bride". *Happy sigh* I love that movie… =)

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III.  Preparing for Launch

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Jim stood at the base of the gangplank, staring up at the R.L.S. Redemption, a look of awe plastered on his face.  Morph hovered over his right shoulder, cooing appreciatively.

In the early morning fog of the Circuitia spaceport – sister port to Crescentia – the Redemption seemed to shine.  She was bigger than the Legacy, but he assumed that had a lot to do with the fact that she was a cargo ship.  She was sleek – looked like she could get up to some pretty high speeds if need be.  Jim figured Fletcher's shipments would always be on time.  Her hull was painted a deep iridescent blue, with a golden-ochre railing.  From afar, in the etherium, she'd be hard to spot.  He frowned.  The Redemption sure did have some fearsome-looking guns for being a cargo ship.  Well, Aubrey said she had had run-ins with some less than friendly spacers…

"Mister Hawkins!"

Jim spun around to see the captain striding toward him confidently. She glanced from pub to shop, taking in everything around her. Her shoulders were squared and her chin was raised.  She had a completely different air than the Professor Fletcher he knew so well. He smirked.  'Yeah, she knows she's in charge, huh?'

"Yes ma'am!"

"Well, we'll have none o' that, First Mate Hawkins."  She winked. "And rest assured Ah'm the only respectable cap'n who'll let ye get away wi'out a 'Yes ma'am, Cap'n, ma'am!'"

Jim grinned. Yes, there was the Professor Fletcher he knew.

"Listen, Jim. Ah'm still waitin' fer most of m' crew to show up.  Go an' get y'self a spot o' breakfast at one of these…fine… hmm…establishments, and be back on the Redemption by 0900 hours."

"Aye, Captain."

"Ye can dump yer stuff in yer stateroom, an' explore the ship if ye want t', but remember ye'll be seeing quite a bit o' her in th' future."

Jim nodded and shouldered his duffle before heading up the plank to the Redemption's deck.  Morph chattered happily behind him.

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A few minutes later, he was standing inside one of what he hoped was the port's more respectable pubs.  Morph gurgled softly on his shoulder, shifting forms from patron to patron.  Jim ambled up to the bar and sat down on one of the stools provided, hoping it wouldn't give way like it looked like it was promising to. 

He glanced at the menu briefly, hoping to find something that looked remotely edible.

Two rugged male aliens were chortling over something a few stools down from him, but he wasn't really paying attention to them.  It wasn't until Morph giggled happily and repeated them that Jim took any interest.

"Aubrey Fletcher! Aubrey Fletcher, Fletcher, Fletcher!"

The two aliens didn't seem to notice the little blob trilling away at Jim's shoulder.

"Morph! Quiet!"

Jim pretended to take great interest in his water glass, and eavesdropped on the two spacers.

"She's not!"

"She is! The Admiral himself mailed her."

"The Admiral??"

"Well that's no surprise.  They're always talkin'."

"How do you know?"

"Got a friend that works over at Galactic Patrol – handles correspondence."

The one with all the answers was the bigger and less human of the two.  The shifty, smaller one was as anxious as Jim for information.  He laughed, and the oily sound made Jim shudder.

"You think she and the Admiral - ? You think she's - heh heh – captaining him?"

The larger one snorted.

"Don't be daft, you ugly barnacle. The Admiral couldn't get a fiery one like Fletch.  Now a spacer like me…"

Jim shook his head and resumed his study of the menu.  Maybe the dish with the –

" – she's a right fine privateer!  One of the best."

They weren't still talking about Fletcher?

The larger alien smacked the smaller one's head. "One of the best? You are blinkin' daft!  Fletcher's the best damn privateer out there.  I've tried my damndest to get on crew with her, but …"

"Her standards are too high, eh?"

This earned him another smack from the larger alien.

"Anyway, according to the rumors, the Admiral wants her to take down the Revenge."

An awed gasp escaped from the humanoid.

Jim was almost falling off the stool trying to hear their strained conversation.

"No! But – but… Isn't…? I mean, the captain of the Revenge… Why that's –"

"I said, 'What'll it be, sugar?'!"

Jim snapped back to attention, silently cursing the waitress for choosing this specific moment to take his order.  He made a hasty decision, hoping it was something that wouldn't fight back, and started listening in on the two aliens again.

"Well, if anyone can take that ship down, it'll be Fletcher."

"Heh heh. You have a crush on her."

"I do not, you stupid, ugly, marlop-sucking…"

The conversation deteriorated into insults and threats.

Jim ate his breakfast in silence. A privateer? His professor? She seemed so respectable… Well, that would explain the ship. 

Morph flitted about, munching happily on Jim's breakfast, which remained thankfully still.

It appeared Jim wasn't the only one who needed to come clean.