Disclaimer: All Treasure Planet characters belong to Disney.

Hold dear the Studious and Invariant

Pursue

Doppler's Point of View

"Good morning, Doctor," I heard the Captain shout down to me from her spot on top of the bridge. I had located myself onto the main deck to not only get a better view of the nebula, but to avoid the captain. I have to admit, I was still quite sore at her for the ill-treatment she gave me two days ago. Ever sense then, she has been on me like a bad rash. Never was our razor tongued captain without a sarcastic remark or well rounded insult upon my person. Well, I guess that was an over exaggeration, but it sure felt that way.

"Good morning, Captain," I shouted back with false confidence I knew. Under her strict dealings with me I have learned to get around them by acting as if I were perfectly fine, because if I had any irritation in my voice, even an ounce, she would be able to detect it and I would be interrogated right on the spot. I looked up to her to see that she had moved on to some other task and that I was free from her gaze.

"Might as well leave before my chivy rash comes back," I said under my breath as I picked up my notebook from the railing of the ship. 'What a horrible thing to say' my conscience reprimanded me. She did give me that book about sailing so at least I am not completely ignorant to . . . As I happened to look down, I noticed a shiny object peeking out from under some rope. I placed my papers back down on the rail and squatted down to untangle the item. When I had it out and stood back up to inspect the glass pediment, I was instantly met by the captain's voice.

"Doctor, what are you doing with that rope?" she questioned harshly. I could tell that she was upset. Surprise, surprise. 'Why am I being so sarcastic?'

"I found something that . . ."

"No matter, stay out of the ropes and anything else on deck for that matter, do you understand?" she stated plainly.

"But Captain, I . . ."

"Doctor! Now listen, those ropes are apart of life line procedures. If you go and tangle them up what good would they be during an emergency. And need I remind you that I am the commanding officer of this ship. When I say 'do you understand' I do not want any ifs, ands, or buts," she explained in such a way that I felt in a way belittled.

"I'm sorry, Captain it won't happen again," I said, defeated.

"See that it doesn't, and by the way, are those your papers littering the etherium I see," she added. I turned to see my notebook releasing all of my notes to the breeze that had just moved in and scrambled to save what was left. I couldn't help but growl in frustration as I watched my hard work drift away from me, unreachable. I shoved the glass object into my pocket in my anger and quickly retracted my hand when I was cut by the pen that was already there.

"Why me," I breathed as I picked up my notes with my uninjured hand and quickly made a retreat to my quarters. This was not what I had in mind when I decided to set out on this adventure. My dream was turning into a nightmare and on top of that I was feeling a bit homesick. As I made for my bathroom to wash off and bandage my bleeding palm I began to second guess my enthusiasm of going on this trip. It was only day three and I was miserable and tired. The bed at night wasn't all that comfortable and on top of which the noises on this boat seemed to be never ending. Every board seemed to groan and every pipe seemed to rattle. It was all I could do to stay sane at night. I am certainly glad that I brought my phonograph, which helped drown out the odd noises. Then as if being away from home wasn't enough, I acquire a most inhospitable captain. I tried to be polite, I tried to be nice, but she'll have none of it. How can a person be that cold?

"She was equally as rude, if not more so, and still refused to apologize," I said aloud. Just thinking about it makes me . . . makes me . . . gee; I don't know how it makes me feel now that I think about it. I want to say I'm angry, but I'm not really. I've been around some pretty unlovable characters before, but none like her. Oh, I need to take my mind off of this. I quickly went out of my washroom and headed to my cello case that was resting next to my bed. I would have played the small clavichord that I brought also, but I did not have it set up. As I positioned myself and my instrument I was already feeling less tense.

Third Person

Captain Amelia found herself watching over the Legacy and its occupants scurrying around on deck and smiled. There was nothing she enjoyed better than to be in control of her ship and overseeing the rolling, lively etherium. However before she could enjoy herself fully, the nagging feeling of guilt edged out from the back of her mind. She wanted to bury it, but every time she did so it resurfaced. She had rarely suffered the emotion of anxiety over something before and was seriously disturbed by it. The fact that the something was a certain canid astronomer made it even more difficult for the feline to understand.

'Why am I thinking about this, I should be over it by now,' she thought to herself. Nevertheless there was something strange about him and she somehow knew that the only way to remove this guilty conscience was to make it up to the doctor. "Perhaps over lunch," she reasoned as she moved over to her stateroom, thinking about writing in her log while the early morning hours offered a light work load.

"Mr. Arrow, please keep me posted," the feline stated.

"May I have a word with you first, Captain," the first officer asked.

"Of course, come with me."

As the two made their way in and closed the door, Arrow began to speak.

"It would appear we have a wild but experienced bunch on our hands ma'am."

"Mmm, yes, I could have figured as much with the episode we had two evenings ago with the cabin boy, but please continue," she said simply.

"Well it appears Mr. Scroop is quite a hostile one. Over the course of three days I've had to keep him under a certain degree of control," the cragorian said.

"Yes well we will just have to make sure he doesn't get out of control. I'm sure a few days scraping astrobarnacles from the keel will cool his hostile temper. Are there anymore complaints on the others?"

"Surprisingly, no," he said, with a hint of uncertainty as if he had something else in mind.

"That's good. Was there anything else you have to tell me?" she asked curiously.

"Well yes Captain. Is there something wrong with the financier?" he asked bluntly. Amelia was taken a back by the question.

"No, why do you ask?" she responded calmly.

"Well you have been treating him quite . . . harshly and I know that not to be like you Captain."

"Oh stuff and nonsense. I don't treat that man any differently then I treat anyone else," she replied sternly. Mr. Arrow looked at her skeptically but decided to remain silent. He knew something was a miss. His Captain was strict, but fair. She never would have yelled at or teased so harshly a cadet, let alone a financier of a voyage. He understood that canids and felinids did not get along well together for only heaven knew what reason, but he'd seen Katherine work with the canine race before and handle herself quite well. He also knew that she didn't like to work with inexperienced landlubbers, but that never caused her to quip at the employer, as much. Maybe it was because it was a canid landlubber, but whatever the reason was the captain wouldn't talk until she was ready and all he could do was wait.

"If that's all, Mr. Arrow, I do have to . . ."

"Captain, don't think me rude," Arrow interrupted as he looked at the irritated expression on his long time friend's face. However, her features softened a bit as she waved her hand in the air.

"No my friend, not at all. Continue," she said as she sat at her desk.

"I think you know my question already. You have been acting quite indifferently to our financier and its day three. You have even treated the cabin boy with more respect then Doctor Doppler. I said he was an odd man not an unsound one. He really is a nice enough fellow. He hasn't done anything to you has he?"

The first officer's words sunk into the captain's thoughts and defenses. She knew she was behaving terribly towards the poor doctor, but she really had no reason to account for her actions, expect one.

"No, but he is a bit pompous not to mention he has poor form and posture. Not only that he had dogmatic written all over himself and that suit of his when he first stepped on my ship. I'm just simply showing him reality," she stated firmly. Mr. Arrow just raised a suspicious eyebrow at her. The doctor over the past three days had been nothing short of submissive to her orders and commands and the cragorian knew that she had to of realized that.

"Captain?" he questioned. She put her fingers to her forehead, knowing that she wouldn't be able to fool her friend. She had not an inkling as to why she was behaving as such. The good doctor was, indeed, a nice man. As soon as that thought passed, she felt strangely tender, but as soon as it came it was gone.

"To be honest, Arrow, I don't truly know," she said coolly. Mr. Arrow was even more surprised by her reply. Usually his Captain always had a quick, witty remark ready to answer any question of difficulty. As he looked at her closely he could faintly see the pain and sorrow in her gaze as she looked down to her desk. He knew of only a couple of things that seemed to really trouble the young woman; damage to her ship, delays, and memories of her family. He wagered since they were on time and no damage done, that it was her family. He knew she loved them dearly, but he also knew that her home life was that of difficulty and wasn't all she tried to betray it to be.

He knew three things for sure; her father disappeared mysteriously on a voyage when she was just six, her mother died when she was fifteen, and she basically raised herself. His other assumptions were just that, assumptions. He had sailed with Amelia's father sense her father entered into the navy. The two had become close friends, spending years in her Majesty's services, and he knew Kennath, the captain's father, well. When Kennath met Kimberly they feel in love almost instantly. They were married and Kennath decided to refrain from sailing so that he could raise a family. Tragically however, the couple had trouble with childbearing. Amelia would have had a sister and a brother if it weren't for miscarriages, but nevertheless the couple finally brought their daughter into the world successfully. To say the least Mr. Arrow was happy for his old friend and visited the family on occasion. Unfortunately, six years later, Kennath would be sent out on a recovery mission and never return. No one knows exactly what happened, but after a smooth few weeks of travel the RLS Nova disappeared, and transmission could never pick them back up again. Arrow had a feeling it was pirates, but the search was called off after two weeks. Kimberly was heartbroken, and to Arrow, this is what killed her nine years later to the day.

"But your right. How would you propose I take care of the situation?" Amelia said, breaking into Arrow's thoughts.

"Pardon me, Captain, would you please repeat."

"Becoming hard of hearing are we," she stated teasingly.

"No, I was just lost in thought."

"Well, anyway, I was just saying how I should go about it. You know, how should I manage him then," she said nonchalantly. Arrow was again taken aback. First, she did not have an explanation for her actions, now she was asking for help on how to act. This couldn't be about her past then, though it was the reason he usually ever saw her out of her captain facade before. However, she normally would handle it herself and was usually just melancholy not confused. Then he noticed that he had made a mistake in the expression of her eyes when he looked at her to give a suggestion. It was not pain and sorrow, per say, it was more of a controlled panic as if that of a person who really was dumbfounded or distressed. Most certainly the first officer had never seen the captain flinch let alone allow anxiety to enter into her gaze.

"Are you feeling alright Mr. Arrow?" the feline asked. She had asked her question no less then a minute ago and he was still just standing there, giving her the most curious look. She knew she was acting strange and she hated every moment of it. She wanted to get out of this conversation and forget about the whole thing.

"I'm fine Captain. Are you feeling all right?" he asked her.

"Of course I am. Now do I have to repeat my question again or do you have a reasonable proposal," she asserted.

"Well, there is always conversing I suppose," he offered simply. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. He had provided her a way out of the odd conversation without even trying to.

"Mmm, that never crossed my mind. Very complex, but simple. I suppose that is worth a go," she said. Arrow smiled. That was the Captain he knew best, but he was still a little concerned.

"Yes, I know, but really Captain, are you going to be fine?" he inquired sincerely. She knew he was just being a caring friend, but to tell the truth she didn't even know if she was fine. How was she suppose to answer that question?

"I think I'm fine, Arrow, some tea and I'll be fine. Maybe, I'll even 'converse' with the good Doctor and settle things."

"Then I better return on deck. When should I expect you back out?" Amelia looked at the clock before looking back up at Arrow.

"In about an hour. Then I'll let you have a break."

"Of course, Captain," he smiled, tipping his hat slightly towards her, before heading out the door.

Amelia's Point of View

Ah, Mr. Arrow, always the proper, polite one. If only I could emulate that same quality. I sighed as I took up my Captain's log and pen. As I began writing down the events that took place on a regular basses, I began thinking. I am so confused by my behavior. Maybe it was the early breakfast or that flu bug that has been going around, port to port. I've heard Crescentia isn't the sporting of places in the etherium. I knew better than that though. It had been years since I've gotten ill of any sort and my immune system is in resplendent condition. So then what was it, that even Mr. Arrow would be driven to ask me why?

Placing down my writing implement, I put a hand to my temple. There was not enough time to toy around with such trivial matters though. We had a long journey ahead. It would take us a cycle and a half to get to the Coral galaxy and no telling how much time would be spent searching for and on the planet. Along with the travel came dangers as well. The route I have chosen, out of a slew of other treacherous territory options, is not going to be a bed of roses once we reach deeper into the nebula. Even though we aren't in the Lagoon those blasted gill-rats are everywhere. Simple, but deadly creatures they are and I would most favorably avoid contact with them.

After dating my log I stood and walked over to my quarters. A nice cup of hot tea sounded good, but I really did not fell like making it and besides my café lattoid would be arriving at my quarters shortly.

"In fact . . ." I murmured as I heard a rapid knock at the door, "That should be it now."

I walked over and opened the door to see the young Hawkins boy holding a small tray with my beverage upon it.

"Here you are, ma'am," he said in a strained voice, as if he had been running.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. And on time, very good," I commended him as I took my drink from the tray. I smiled inwardly as I remembered telling him three days ago to be here at 7 am sharp with a hot cup. He only messed up once to learn to take my commands seriously when he was assigned double duty.

"You're welcome," he said very quickly before taking off again in a hurry. Mmm, still I suppose he is shaping up to be a very hard worker. As I went back in and walked back into my quarters to drink my caffeinated beverage, I thought about a cello. Playing Beethoven's Fur Elise if I'm not mistaken.

"Wait, a cello," I announced to myself. I stopped moving and listened carefully to find that indeed I was hearing cello music coming up from underneath my room. As my mind raced over the layout of the Legacy I knew immediately where it was coming from and possibly who. The guestroom and obviously a canid cellist. I hadn't gotten a chance to glance over the cargo the Doctor sent, but I did remember the shape of a stringed instrument case among it. As the music was a little muffled coming up through my floor boards, I decided to go down and listen to it first hand. I knew I was being inquisitive, but it was my break and I could chose to do with my time whatever I so desired. Plus I simply couldn't help myself, I really do enjoy music.

After I made my way to the hall that would lead to the room in question, the song had changed to that of which I had never heard before. In fact it changed to something I did not expect. A jazzier tune, that was slow and rhythmic. When I had reached the door, I noticed it was slightly open, and that it was indeed the doctor who was playing the instrument. His eyes were shut and the fingers of his right hand moved up and down the neck of the cello gracefully while his left held the bow and moved across the strings. He would occasionally lift up the bow and pluck out a quick chord before returning to the melody. He played with such control and skill it was hard to believe this was the same man who couldn't even run in a straight line. I was surprised to say the least and was even more so when he opened his eyes. So focused, yet so soft, he even seemed . . . What was I doing? Hiding behind the door like some kind of grade schoolgirl listening in on a piece of gossip. However before I could back away, the doctor suddenly stopped.

I looked back in through the door to see that he nearly allowed the cello to drop to the ground. He quickly grabbed it cumbersomely and smiled weakly. In a way, I found it humorously cute, until I noticed that he did not drop it out of clumsiness, but because he was startled.

Author note- I know it takes me a long time to update between chapters, and for this, I am sorry. I will try to update quicker, but no guarantees. Hope you enjoy. And if Vik is reading, I am having trouble e-mailing you. I don't know what the problem is but if you can e-mail me that would be great. Oh, and yes it's a lefty cello Delbert's playing.