Thank you, big thank you, to Vik M., who was kind enough to e-mail me and inform me
that: 1) 'Mantavor' is the official name given to members of Scroop and Merriss' species. 2) I do
not have any ear whatsoever for accents, and Amelia should be calling the guys 'neophytes', as
opposed to what I had her calling them, 'nearfights'. He's also been helpful with keeping the
characters IC. wh00t.
And a huge. . . MASSIVELY HUGE. . . thank-you to all of you that have been reviewing.
I appreciate it more than you know. Or maybe just as much as you know. Or even less! Don't
want to underestimate you fine reviewers, after all. But anyway. . . you're what's keeping me
writing this. (I sure you likeing my good grammr nd speling 2 huh?) So keep reviewing! Tell
your friends! Inflate my e- oh, wait. Forget that last one. *nervous glances all around*
*****
John Silver whistled to himself as he sat in his cell, reading over the paper. The lyrics
played in his mind as he scanned the headlines.
"Fifteen spacers on the dead man's chest. . . hm hm hm on Proteus-One. . . hm hm pirate
done for the re--"
"Quiet in there, you!" The guard clanged on the bars noisily. Silver instantly stopped and
looked up. He hadn't realized that he'd been humming the lyrics to the old shanty out loud. He
nodded.
"Aye, sir. Not a peep'll come outta-"
"Eh, shut up, yeh bilge-swabbin' heap o' rubbish." The guard glared in at him. "I didn't
ask fer yer shameful excuses. Just keep yer yap sealed tight."
Silver sneered at the guard as he turned away. No use arguing with someone so idiotic. If
they thought they were right, there was no convincing them otherwise. Reminded him a bit of
that poor excuse for a cook that had ratted him out.
***
"You know. . ." the cook started up. Silver rolled his eyes. When this idiot started
gabbing, it was a sure sign for biased, ridiculous remarks. The cook continued, not waiting for
any response from Silver as the large man scrubbed at a pot. ". . . I was thinking about that
headline that was in the paper a few days ago. . ."
Silver froze his features into a blank stare. This could not be good. "Really, now?" He
continued scrubbing at the crusty remains in the pot, but his grip on it had tightened considerably.
"Yes. . . you know, you bore an awfully uncanny resemblance to that pirate." The cook
glanced at Silver as he worked. "Now. . . I've been wondering. . ."
Silver scrubbed at the pot faster as the cook talked. This was most certainly not
something that was good to be talking about.
". . . do you have any sort of. . . connections to him? Brother? Cousin? . . . Anything?"
Silver cleared his throat and stared down at the pot. "Well, sir, I don't believe he's any. . .
relation o' mine. Most certainly ain't me brother. . . nor cousin. . . never had one o' either, for
that matter."
The cook looked at him suspiciously. "Not many people have so much cybernetic
machinery on them, you know."
Silver realized that this situation was seeming very, very familiar. His mind wandered
back to that morning so long ago. The captain had deposited a young boy, a lad no more than
fifteen or sixteen, in his care. He had never been in charge of anyone that wasn't a full-grown
pirate. He had assumed that the boy would be in the way all the time. . . asking why and how and
when and what all hours of the day. . . but this lad had been sharp. He had asked questions, made
insinuations, that Silver would have been impressed to hear from many members of his own
piratical crew.
"Just before I left I met this old guy. He was, uhm. . . he was kinda lookin' for a cyborg
*buddy* of his. . ."
Yes, Jimbo had been sharp. He caught details that other people missed. Silver sighed. He
sure did miss that little-
"I say, are you even listening to me?!" the cook asked irately, cutting into Silver's
thoughts.
Silver blinked up at the cook. "Yessir! Finish what yeh was sayin'. . ."
The cook glared at Silver, then stuck his nose a bit higher in the air and closed his eyes
slightly, as though Silver should feel privileged just to be hearing the words coming out of his
mouth. "Hmm. . . I was simply saying that I didn't really know much about *you*. I only know
that you are employed *under* me. And have been so for a mere week. Now. . . what was your
name, again?"
Silver snorted. What a complete. . . well. . . *ass*! It was most likely the only thing
saving his skin, the fact that this man had forgotten his name, but still. . . the level of
inconsideration was astounding, to say the least.
"Name?"
"Yes. Name. *Your* name."
"Eh. . ."
"You *do* know your own *name*, surely? I knew you weren't the brightest-shining star
in the etherium, but really, n-"
That was Silver's breaking point. He dropped the pot with a bang and turned to face the
cook, who shrank down nervously. Silver took a step towards the simpering cook, who, in turn,
took two steps backward.
"That, my lad, is IT. Yeh've been nothin' but a self-righteous, show-boatin', egotistical
whelp from the first time I set me eyes on yeh, and nothin' has changed. I gave yeh the chance t'
warm up a bit, prid but yeh let yer confounded ego take over yer pathetic excuse fer a brain!
There i'n't a kind thought in yeh, nor a consid'rate bone in yer body!"
He picked up the small cook by the collar of his white shirt. "Am I makin' meself
understood?" he growled lowly.
The cook squeaked pathetically and nodded, using a few of his tentacles/hands to attempt
to pry Silver's cybernetic hand off of him. Silver chuckled. There was simply no way the little
idiot could so much as loosen a bolt on the piece of cybernetic machinery.
"Ease up, now, laddy, I wouldn't think o' inflictin' the tiniest scratch on yer frail li'l self."
Silver released the cook, who could think of nothing to say. He stood back, quaking. Silver
simply went to the back exit, grabbed his coat off of the hook hanging on the wall (glaring over
his shoulder at the cook, for good measure), and stepped outside.
The constabulary had him in a matter of hours.
Silver shifted uneasily in his cell. If he had only kept his temper, he may have been able
to avoid imprisonment (and the inevitable death penalty) for the rest of his life. But that old anger
had flared up in him. He shook his head and looked out of the cell. The guards were switching
shifts, presently. They threw dark glances at Silver, each time the opportunity arose. One finally
called to him.
"Not long now, Silver! You're going to hang nice and high! Got the noose all ready for
ya!" He and the other guard laughed heartily. Silver muttered to himself.
"Yeah, yeh can take that noose and shove it up yer-"
***
"YAAAAHH!!!" Jim sat up quickly in his bunk, lost his balance in the hammock and fell
to the floor with a thud. Morph chuckled and chirped happily, pleased with his handiwork. He
had changed into Scroop once more and leered in Jim's face until Jim finally woke up. The little
joke had achieved the desired effect, but Jim was not amused. He blinked up from the floor.
"Morph. . . why do you enjoy my pain?"
Morph giggled happily as Jim pushed himself up. He came to eye-level with Morph.
"One day you are going to push me too far." He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out
somewhat, and walked past the remainder of the sleeping crew. He came onto the deck and
looked to the west at the nearest sun. Morph followed as Jim inspected the stars. "Morph. . . if
I'm not forgetting everything I learned at the academy, it's about 300 hours." He glanced at
Morph. "You woke me up after four hours of sleep. You are surely proud of yourself." Morph
make a small noise of apology, but grinned.
Jim sighed, leaning his back against the mast nearest to the bow of the ship. He closed his
eyes, still quite groggy. He opened them again as he heard two voices conversing.
"Yesss, Doctor. It's been a rather odd voyage, I can tell you." Jim identified the voice as
Merriss'. He listened carefully.
"Well, I can assure you, it's best that you not know its purpose," Doppler's voice
responded. "Really would result in quite a mass of confusion and chaos, I'm afraid."
"Underssstandable. . ."
Jim listened to them talk. He lost interest when Doppler started rambling on about the star
clusters and other astronomically-related things. Morph quickly became impatient with Jim's
stillness. He made a squeak of indignation to Jim, but Jim remained silent, just resting for the
moment. Morph flew off, leaving Jim in silence. Jim opened one eye, realizing the small pink
blob was gone, and opened the other one quickly. He scanned the deck, looking for Morph,
"Morph!" Jim hissed, trying to whisper. "Morph! C'm'ere!" Morph did not come. Jim's
eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of him. "Morph?" He then caught sight of the
small pink protoplasm, hovering a few feet in front of the captain's quarters, chirping happily.
Jim squinted at him, trying to figure out what the little nuisance was planning. His mouth fell
open as he realized what it was that Morph had in mind.
"Morph. . . no. . . don't! Don't! No!!"
Morph turned into a small Jim. "NO NO NO!!!" He mimicked Jim, then quickly changed
back to his slightly more blob-like form. He cackled gleefully as he slid under the door and into-
"Not the stateroom! Morph! NO!!" Jim looked around for Doppler and Merriss, but they
were gone. Jim assumed that they had gone below deck for some reason or other. Didn't matter
much to him- what *did* matter was the fact that Morph, the biggest trouble-maker on the ship,
had just gone into the sleeping captain's quarters.
Jim crept up to the stateroom door. He pressed his ear against it, listening for any
movement, praying that Morph would decide to come out before any serious damage was caused.
He leaned on the door, pressing his ear against it, with his eyes shut tightly in concentration. He
strained his ears, but still couldn't hear anything.
"Come on, Morph, come ouWOAH!!!"
The door had suddenly opened. Jim stumbled forward into the stateroom almost
sprawling out on his stomach. He managed to catch himself, however, and looked up.
"Oh. . . no. . ."
Amelia glared at him. In one fist, she clenched Morph. She wore only a long-sleeved,
floor-length white nightgown, but was still the most intimidating authority figure that Jim could
call to mind from his memory.
"Mr. Hawkins." Amelia quaked with anger as she spoke. "Explain. Now." Morph glanced
nervously at Amelia from her clenched fist. He could easily slide out of her grip, but he knew
better than to try and escape her.
"Uh- I was just- he- Morph, that is- I wasn't. . . I didn't do anything!" Jim cursed himself
silently. 'My, aren't we articulate tonight?' he thought silently.
"Didn't do anything," responded Amelia. "Did not do anything. . ." she chuckled, but did
not look happy. "My. . . you certainly are the inexperienced liar, Mr. Hawkins. Rule number-one:
make it believable." She smirked. "You failed that on the spot." She brought the hand holding
Morph up in front of her face, and suddenly opened it. Morph quickly flew to Jim, but remained
silent, staring at Amelia.
"Captain. . . ma'am. . . it won't happen again. I swear." Jim lowered his eyes and bowed
his head to her to show his respectful sincerity.
Amelia sighed. "I have every reason to turn this ship around, you know."
Jim flinched. "Yes, Captain."
"And I should. My common sense, gut feelings, and instincts are all in agreement upon
that matter."
"Yes. . . Captain."
"And I believe that from now on you are going to restrain that little smear much more
carefully, or I will be forced to follow my instincts."
Jim looked up, hardly believing his luck. He managed to keep his face blankly respectful,
and nodded to her. The anger in her features faded, but the firm authority and sternness did not.
She nodded to him (though more stiffly and curtly than he had to her), and shut the door behind
Jim as he walked out.
Jim walked along the deck, wishing he had gotten more sleep. Today was the day that
they left the Legacy and changed ships. Soon they'd be rescuing Silver. Hopefully. If their plan
worked out. . . . and of course that was always in question. They could talk for hours and hours,
and the plan would still be full of holes and possibilities for error. Jim sighed and went back to
the bunks. As far as sleep went, half an hour more was better than half an hour less.
***
"There she is, gents!" piped Amelia, quite chipper, considering the events of the morning
and the circumstances in which the small group found themselves. The crew was staying aboard
the Legacy, Mr. Merriss in charge until Amelia returned. If she did not contact him daily, he had
been given instructions to be followed only in case of just such an event. The instructions also
included a brief summary of the voyage's purpose and several likely possibilities of what may
have happened to the group. Amelia trusted Merriss enough to believe that he would not read
them, and the three men with her agreed that she had been right in her trust. Jim was hesitant at
first, but eventually was persuaded by Aaron.
Now, however, they were staring up at a small, angular ship in the port. The Madrigal
Nebula shined brilliantly nearby to the east, glowing against the deep purple etherium. The ship's
sails were fluttering, reddish-gold in the glow of the nebula.
"Quite a different design than the Legacy," Doppler commented.
"Ah, of course. This ship is made for speed. Capable of being manned by only two crew
members, in a pinch." She glanced at Jim and Aaron pointedly. She then looked up at the ship
again. "Quite a change from my usual escort jobs. . ."
"'RLS Volitant'," Jim read off of the side of the ship. "Huh."
"A worthy name," Amelia said as she nodded approvingly. Her sudden change from
reluctant anger to gleaming excitement was enough to lift the spirits of Jim, Doppler, and Aaron.
They followed her up the gangplank and onto the deck.
'It's so *small*', Jim thought to himself instantly. 'God, compared to the Legacy it's-'
"Minuscule!" Doppler blurted out. Amelia frowned at him. He glanced at her. "Er, not
that minuscule is a *bad* thing! Heavens, no!" He laughed nervously, then changed it into a
cough. "Perfect little vessel. Quite space-worthy."
"I'm sure," replied Amelia with a small smile. She then turned to Jim and Doppler. "I do
hope you boys have been learning during the past week."
They nodded mildly to her.
"Very good! Because now we are going to see how much you've learned." She flipped
her hat over once in her hands, then quickly situated it on her head, achieving the maximum
stateliness effect. "Raise the astral anchor, Mr. Me-" She stopped, then laughed a bit
embarrassedly. "Silly me. . . always used to having a first mate. Ahem, raise the astral anchor,
Doctor!"
Doppler nodded. "Aye, Captain!" He stood up straight, staring at her. He did not move
for a moment, then added, "How?"
Amelia rolled her eyes. "Controls are above deck, next to our cabin."
"Ah. Right." Doppler was quickly at the control room, having only to take a few steps on
the small vessel. Amelia turned to Jim.
"Well, Mr. Hawkins? Mr. Doppler?"
"'Well', what?" Jim asked after a moment's pause.
"The sails!"
"Oh! Right! Sails!" Jim quickly took to the rigging, Aaron following his motions on the
other side of the ships. The sails that hadn't already been down fell into place. The two boys leapt
lightly to the deck and secured the lines tying them down. Amelia was at the helm (only one on
this ship, as opposed to the Legacy's three), one hand kept to steer, while the other was placed on
the thruster controls. Doppler emerged from the control room.
"Astral anchor up and secured!"
"Excellent. Boys?"
Jim and Aaron both gave small salutes to Amelia. "Aye, Captain! Sails secured!"
"Alright, men. . . we're off!"
Amelia switched on the thrusters and the small ship pulled out of port sharply. Being a
newer model, the artificial gravity switched on automatically, but there was still surprise to the
takeoff. The sudden acceleration was enough to make even Amelia strain a bit against the force.
Jim, Aaron, and Doppler were all thrown off of their feet. Amelia quickly lessened the power
input from the sails, and looked down from the helm at the three others.
"Sorry about that, boys! Haven't driven one of these since my academy days!" She
laughed a bit as they pushed themselves up, then, once they had braced themselves a bit more
firmly, picked up speed again, heading for the small prison and what they hoped to be a
successful jailbreak.
*****
Slightly shorter, but I wanted to get something out. The action is going to pick up a lot more,
fairly soon. We're gonna see stuff happening at the Benbow! Doppler in an apron! Amelia- well,
I don't wanna give away anything else. *insert grin here*
that: 1) 'Mantavor' is the official name given to members of Scroop and Merriss' species. 2) I do
not have any ear whatsoever for accents, and Amelia should be calling the guys 'neophytes', as
opposed to what I had her calling them, 'nearfights'. He's also been helpful with keeping the
characters IC. wh00t.
And a huge. . . MASSIVELY HUGE. . . thank-you to all of you that have been reviewing.
I appreciate it more than you know. Or maybe just as much as you know. Or even less! Don't
want to underestimate you fine reviewers, after all. But anyway. . . you're what's keeping me
writing this. (I sure you likeing my good grammr nd speling 2 huh?) So keep reviewing! Tell
your friends! Inflate my e- oh, wait. Forget that last one. *nervous glances all around*
*****
John Silver whistled to himself as he sat in his cell, reading over the paper. The lyrics
played in his mind as he scanned the headlines.
"Fifteen spacers on the dead man's chest. . . hm hm hm on Proteus-One. . . hm hm pirate
done for the re--"
"Quiet in there, you!" The guard clanged on the bars noisily. Silver instantly stopped and
looked up. He hadn't realized that he'd been humming the lyrics to the old shanty out loud. He
nodded.
"Aye, sir. Not a peep'll come outta-"
"Eh, shut up, yeh bilge-swabbin' heap o' rubbish." The guard glared in at him. "I didn't
ask fer yer shameful excuses. Just keep yer yap sealed tight."
Silver sneered at the guard as he turned away. No use arguing with someone so idiotic. If
they thought they were right, there was no convincing them otherwise. Reminded him a bit of
that poor excuse for a cook that had ratted him out.
***
"You know. . ." the cook started up. Silver rolled his eyes. When this idiot started
gabbing, it was a sure sign for biased, ridiculous remarks. The cook continued, not waiting for
any response from Silver as the large man scrubbed at a pot. ". . . I was thinking about that
headline that was in the paper a few days ago. . ."
Silver froze his features into a blank stare. This could not be good. "Really, now?" He
continued scrubbing at the crusty remains in the pot, but his grip on it had tightened considerably.
"Yes. . . you know, you bore an awfully uncanny resemblance to that pirate." The cook
glanced at Silver as he worked. "Now. . . I've been wondering. . ."
Silver scrubbed at the pot faster as the cook talked. This was most certainly not
something that was good to be talking about.
". . . do you have any sort of. . . connections to him? Brother? Cousin? . . . Anything?"
Silver cleared his throat and stared down at the pot. "Well, sir, I don't believe he's any. . .
relation o' mine. Most certainly ain't me brother. . . nor cousin. . . never had one o' either, for
that matter."
The cook looked at him suspiciously. "Not many people have so much cybernetic
machinery on them, you know."
Silver realized that this situation was seeming very, very familiar. His mind wandered
back to that morning so long ago. The captain had deposited a young boy, a lad no more than
fifteen or sixteen, in his care. He had never been in charge of anyone that wasn't a full-grown
pirate. He had assumed that the boy would be in the way all the time. . . asking why and how and
when and what all hours of the day. . . but this lad had been sharp. He had asked questions, made
insinuations, that Silver would have been impressed to hear from many members of his own
piratical crew.
"Just before I left I met this old guy. He was, uhm. . . he was kinda lookin' for a cyborg
*buddy* of his. . ."
Yes, Jimbo had been sharp. He caught details that other people missed. Silver sighed. He
sure did miss that little-
"I say, are you even listening to me?!" the cook asked irately, cutting into Silver's
thoughts.
Silver blinked up at the cook. "Yessir! Finish what yeh was sayin'. . ."
The cook glared at Silver, then stuck his nose a bit higher in the air and closed his eyes
slightly, as though Silver should feel privileged just to be hearing the words coming out of his
mouth. "Hmm. . . I was simply saying that I didn't really know much about *you*. I only know
that you are employed *under* me. And have been so for a mere week. Now. . . what was your
name, again?"
Silver snorted. What a complete. . . well. . . *ass*! It was most likely the only thing
saving his skin, the fact that this man had forgotten his name, but still. . . the level of
inconsideration was astounding, to say the least.
"Name?"
"Yes. Name. *Your* name."
"Eh. . ."
"You *do* know your own *name*, surely? I knew you weren't the brightest-shining star
in the etherium, but really, n-"
That was Silver's breaking point. He dropped the pot with a bang and turned to face the
cook, who shrank down nervously. Silver took a step towards the simpering cook, who, in turn,
took two steps backward.
"That, my lad, is IT. Yeh've been nothin' but a self-righteous, show-boatin', egotistical
whelp from the first time I set me eyes on yeh, and nothin' has changed. I gave yeh the chance t'
warm up a bit, prid but yeh let yer confounded ego take over yer pathetic excuse fer a brain!
There i'n't a kind thought in yeh, nor a consid'rate bone in yer body!"
He picked up the small cook by the collar of his white shirt. "Am I makin' meself
understood?" he growled lowly.
The cook squeaked pathetically and nodded, using a few of his tentacles/hands to attempt
to pry Silver's cybernetic hand off of him. Silver chuckled. There was simply no way the little
idiot could so much as loosen a bolt on the piece of cybernetic machinery.
"Ease up, now, laddy, I wouldn't think o' inflictin' the tiniest scratch on yer frail li'l self."
Silver released the cook, who could think of nothing to say. He stood back, quaking. Silver
simply went to the back exit, grabbed his coat off of the hook hanging on the wall (glaring over
his shoulder at the cook, for good measure), and stepped outside.
The constabulary had him in a matter of hours.
Silver shifted uneasily in his cell. If he had only kept his temper, he may have been able
to avoid imprisonment (and the inevitable death penalty) for the rest of his life. But that old anger
had flared up in him. He shook his head and looked out of the cell. The guards were switching
shifts, presently. They threw dark glances at Silver, each time the opportunity arose. One finally
called to him.
"Not long now, Silver! You're going to hang nice and high! Got the noose all ready for
ya!" He and the other guard laughed heartily. Silver muttered to himself.
"Yeah, yeh can take that noose and shove it up yer-"
***
"YAAAAHH!!!" Jim sat up quickly in his bunk, lost his balance in the hammock and fell
to the floor with a thud. Morph chuckled and chirped happily, pleased with his handiwork. He
had changed into Scroop once more and leered in Jim's face until Jim finally woke up. The little
joke had achieved the desired effect, but Jim was not amused. He blinked up from the floor.
"Morph. . . why do you enjoy my pain?"
Morph giggled happily as Jim pushed himself up. He came to eye-level with Morph.
"One day you are going to push me too far." He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out
somewhat, and walked past the remainder of the sleeping crew. He came onto the deck and
looked to the west at the nearest sun. Morph followed as Jim inspected the stars. "Morph. . . if
I'm not forgetting everything I learned at the academy, it's about 300 hours." He glanced at
Morph. "You woke me up after four hours of sleep. You are surely proud of yourself." Morph
make a small noise of apology, but grinned.
Jim sighed, leaning his back against the mast nearest to the bow of the ship. He closed his
eyes, still quite groggy. He opened them again as he heard two voices conversing.
"Yesss, Doctor. It's been a rather odd voyage, I can tell you." Jim identified the voice as
Merriss'. He listened carefully.
"Well, I can assure you, it's best that you not know its purpose," Doppler's voice
responded. "Really would result in quite a mass of confusion and chaos, I'm afraid."
"Underssstandable. . ."
Jim listened to them talk. He lost interest when Doppler started rambling on about the star
clusters and other astronomically-related things. Morph quickly became impatient with Jim's
stillness. He made a squeak of indignation to Jim, but Jim remained silent, just resting for the
moment. Morph flew off, leaving Jim in silence. Jim opened one eye, realizing the small pink
blob was gone, and opened the other one quickly. He scanned the deck, looking for Morph,
"Morph!" Jim hissed, trying to whisper. "Morph! C'm'ere!" Morph did not come. Jim's
eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of him. "Morph?" He then caught sight of the
small pink protoplasm, hovering a few feet in front of the captain's quarters, chirping happily.
Jim squinted at him, trying to figure out what the little nuisance was planning. His mouth fell
open as he realized what it was that Morph had in mind.
"Morph. . . no. . . don't! Don't! No!!"
Morph turned into a small Jim. "NO NO NO!!!" He mimicked Jim, then quickly changed
back to his slightly more blob-like form. He cackled gleefully as he slid under the door and into-
"Not the stateroom! Morph! NO!!" Jim looked around for Doppler and Merriss, but they
were gone. Jim assumed that they had gone below deck for some reason or other. Didn't matter
much to him- what *did* matter was the fact that Morph, the biggest trouble-maker on the ship,
had just gone into the sleeping captain's quarters.
Jim crept up to the stateroom door. He pressed his ear against it, listening for any
movement, praying that Morph would decide to come out before any serious damage was caused.
He leaned on the door, pressing his ear against it, with his eyes shut tightly in concentration. He
strained his ears, but still couldn't hear anything.
"Come on, Morph, come ouWOAH!!!"
The door had suddenly opened. Jim stumbled forward into the stateroom almost
sprawling out on his stomach. He managed to catch himself, however, and looked up.
"Oh. . . no. . ."
Amelia glared at him. In one fist, she clenched Morph. She wore only a long-sleeved,
floor-length white nightgown, but was still the most intimidating authority figure that Jim could
call to mind from his memory.
"Mr. Hawkins." Amelia quaked with anger as she spoke. "Explain. Now." Morph glanced
nervously at Amelia from her clenched fist. He could easily slide out of her grip, but he knew
better than to try and escape her.
"Uh- I was just- he- Morph, that is- I wasn't. . . I didn't do anything!" Jim cursed himself
silently. 'My, aren't we articulate tonight?' he thought silently.
"Didn't do anything," responded Amelia. "Did not do anything. . ." she chuckled, but did
not look happy. "My. . . you certainly are the inexperienced liar, Mr. Hawkins. Rule number-one:
make it believable." She smirked. "You failed that on the spot." She brought the hand holding
Morph up in front of her face, and suddenly opened it. Morph quickly flew to Jim, but remained
silent, staring at Amelia.
"Captain. . . ma'am. . . it won't happen again. I swear." Jim lowered his eyes and bowed
his head to her to show his respectful sincerity.
Amelia sighed. "I have every reason to turn this ship around, you know."
Jim flinched. "Yes, Captain."
"And I should. My common sense, gut feelings, and instincts are all in agreement upon
that matter."
"Yes. . . Captain."
"And I believe that from now on you are going to restrain that little smear much more
carefully, or I will be forced to follow my instincts."
Jim looked up, hardly believing his luck. He managed to keep his face blankly respectful,
and nodded to her. The anger in her features faded, but the firm authority and sternness did not.
She nodded to him (though more stiffly and curtly than he had to her), and shut the door behind
Jim as he walked out.
Jim walked along the deck, wishing he had gotten more sleep. Today was the day that
they left the Legacy and changed ships. Soon they'd be rescuing Silver. Hopefully. If their plan
worked out. . . . and of course that was always in question. They could talk for hours and hours,
and the plan would still be full of holes and possibilities for error. Jim sighed and went back to
the bunks. As far as sleep went, half an hour more was better than half an hour less.
***
"There she is, gents!" piped Amelia, quite chipper, considering the events of the morning
and the circumstances in which the small group found themselves. The crew was staying aboard
the Legacy, Mr. Merriss in charge until Amelia returned. If she did not contact him daily, he had
been given instructions to be followed only in case of just such an event. The instructions also
included a brief summary of the voyage's purpose and several likely possibilities of what may
have happened to the group. Amelia trusted Merriss enough to believe that he would not read
them, and the three men with her agreed that she had been right in her trust. Jim was hesitant at
first, but eventually was persuaded by Aaron.
Now, however, they were staring up at a small, angular ship in the port. The Madrigal
Nebula shined brilliantly nearby to the east, glowing against the deep purple etherium. The ship's
sails were fluttering, reddish-gold in the glow of the nebula.
"Quite a different design than the Legacy," Doppler commented.
"Ah, of course. This ship is made for speed. Capable of being manned by only two crew
members, in a pinch." She glanced at Jim and Aaron pointedly. She then looked up at the ship
again. "Quite a change from my usual escort jobs. . ."
"'RLS Volitant'," Jim read off of the side of the ship. "Huh."
"A worthy name," Amelia said as she nodded approvingly. Her sudden change from
reluctant anger to gleaming excitement was enough to lift the spirits of Jim, Doppler, and Aaron.
They followed her up the gangplank and onto the deck.
'It's so *small*', Jim thought to himself instantly. 'God, compared to the Legacy it's-'
"Minuscule!" Doppler blurted out. Amelia frowned at him. He glanced at her. "Er, not
that minuscule is a *bad* thing! Heavens, no!" He laughed nervously, then changed it into a
cough. "Perfect little vessel. Quite space-worthy."
"I'm sure," replied Amelia with a small smile. She then turned to Jim and Doppler. "I do
hope you boys have been learning during the past week."
They nodded mildly to her.
"Very good! Because now we are going to see how much you've learned." She flipped
her hat over once in her hands, then quickly situated it on her head, achieving the maximum
stateliness effect. "Raise the astral anchor, Mr. Me-" She stopped, then laughed a bit
embarrassedly. "Silly me. . . always used to having a first mate. Ahem, raise the astral anchor,
Doctor!"
Doppler nodded. "Aye, Captain!" He stood up straight, staring at her. He did not move
for a moment, then added, "How?"
Amelia rolled her eyes. "Controls are above deck, next to our cabin."
"Ah. Right." Doppler was quickly at the control room, having only to take a few steps on
the small vessel. Amelia turned to Jim.
"Well, Mr. Hawkins? Mr. Doppler?"
"'Well', what?" Jim asked after a moment's pause.
"The sails!"
"Oh! Right! Sails!" Jim quickly took to the rigging, Aaron following his motions on the
other side of the ships. The sails that hadn't already been down fell into place. The two boys leapt
lightly to the deck and secured the lines tying them down. Amelia was at the helm (only one on
this ship, as opposed to the Legacy's three), one hand kept to steer, while the other was placed on
the thruster controls. Doppler emerged from the control room.
"Astral anchor up and secured!"
"Excellent. Boys?"
Jim and Aaron both gave small salutes to Amelia. "Aye, Captain! Sails secured!"
"Alright, men. . . we're off!"
Amelia switched on the thrusters and the small ship pulled out of port sharply. Being a
newer model, the artificial gravity switched on automatically, but there was still surprise to the
takeoff. The sudden acceleration was enough to make even Amelia strain a bit against the force.
Jim, Aaron, and Doppler were all thrown off of their feet. Amelia quickly lessened the power
input from the sails, and looked down from the helm at the three others.
"Sorry about that, boys! Haven't driven one of these since my academy days!" She
laughed a bit as they pushed themselves up, then, once they had braced themselves a bit more
firmly, picked up speed again, heading for the small prison and what they hoped to be a
successful jailbreak.
*****
Slightly shorter, but I wanted to get something out. The action is going to pick up a lot more,
fairly soon. We're gonna see stuff happening at the Benbow! Doppler in an apron! Amelia- well,
I don't wanna give away anything else. *insert grin here*