This story takes place a few months after the film, by which time the Legacy is repaired and back in space. Some hint of the idea has been kicking around the vacant spaces of my brain since I saw the Playstation 2 spinoff video game for Treasure Planet, but it took a while for all the pieces to fall into place. Special thanks for that go to LavenderSnowFlake and Megers67, two of the best writers you'll find out there, and without whom this almost certainly wouldn't have happened.

The great arc of Crescentia hung in the etherium. Eight miles from point to point, the concave side glowing in white and terracotta in the light from Montressor's sun. Ships great and small, but even the biggest like a minnow beside the vast spaceport, came and went, sails alight with solar energy. But for Delbert Doppler, waiting impatiently on a vacant pier, there was only one that he had eyes for.

His heart lifted as he spotted it, scattering a flock of mantabirds as it approached. The RLS Legacy under sail was a fine and unmistakable sight. He saw the flare of plasma from her engines dim as she neared the spaceport and saw the tiny figures of spacers scrambling up the rigging to furl her sails as she switched to her thrusters for the final approach. Flag signals blossomed from her halyards, answering some other message received from one of the huge port telegraph stations that lined the edge of Crescentia. Despite his impatience for the ship to dock, Doppler always enjoyed watching her manoeuvres - the sight of power so carefully and gracefully mastered and guided, all under the hands that he trusted most. As he watched, he couldn't help unconsciously smiling and speaking a single word.

"Amelia..."

The Legacy was decelerating as she drew closer, thrusters throwing out angel wings of gas that briefly shone white in the sunlight before dissipating. She was close enough now that Doppler could see her rudders moving as they adjusted her course. He could imagine the scene on her bridge, the stream of confident orders Amelia would be issuing to her crew. Or perhaps she was bringing her in herself, as she sometimes did, especially these days when the Interstellar Academy insisted on pushing half-educated midshipmen out the door as fast as possible so that they could complete their training aboard the ships of the Reserve Fleet like the Legacy. As the vessel drew nearer, the dockside stirred into life. Longshoremen who had been lounging on the pier, smoking and chatting idly amongst themselves, responded to the bawled orders of their foremen and began making ready to receive her. A small man with a clipboard, a large tricorn hat and an embroidered waistcoat appeared next to Doppler and gave him a nod of recognition.

"Morning, doctor. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Doppler smiled. "Good morning, Commissioner Mott. Yes, it is."

"Captain Amelia's called you up again? I recall seeing you here the last couple of times she's brought the old Legacy in here."

His tone was entirely innocent, but Doppler still fought off a blush. "W-well, yes, it's the ship's charts, you see. It's an older set and the Captain is very diligent about updating them with any new stellar phenomena she sights..."

"Very commendable I'm sure." Mott looked up at the ship. "I won't bother asking for your pass. I'm sure it's as in order as it was last time."

"Th-thank you, Commissioner." Doppler swallowed nervously. "I can assure you that it is."

A shadow briefly fell over them as the Legacy coasted to a halt overhead. Thrusters fired again and the ship began descending towards her place. Mooring lines as thick as a man's leg were tossed over the side with shouts of warning to the dock workers below, who stood clear as the heavy cables landed and then hurried forwards to grab them, haul in the slack and make them fast to the iron bollards along the side. As the lines tightened, Doppler's heart leapt as he looked up and saw a familiar, slender blue-coated figure on the Legacy's bridge. It was a small figure, standing stock still, but it seemed to dominate the entirety of the ship as if it were an extension of its own body.

Amelia...in her element.

The docking complete, Doppler's impatience returned as, with no spectacle to distract him, he had to wait the usual inexplicably long time for the gangway to be wheeled and hoisted into position, granting access to the ship as the last of the sails were furled. Mott set off towards it at a casual pace, a clipboard tucked under his arm. Doppler followed, protocol forbidding him from being the first up the gangway despite his racing heart urging him to push the man out of the way. They reached the bottom of the gangway, the official turning to the burly, heavily-tattoed leader of the longshoremen.

"All ready, foreman?"

"All ready, Mr Mott." The longshoreman touched his forehead.

They climbed the gangway, the wood creaking slightly under their weight and with the gentle but noticeable movements of the ship as she hung in the stellar breeze. Reaching the ivory-painted handrail, Mott doffed his hat to the bridge and raised his voice.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Permission granted!" A familiar, crisply-accented voice rang out from the bridge. Doppler couldn't stop himself smiling as he saw Amelia making her way down the steps to the quarterdeck.

The ship's timber deck was reassuringly familiar and study after the flexible gangway, and Doppler stepped onto it gratefully as Amelia and Mott exchanged handshakes and began their official business.

"Commissioner Mott of the Crescentia Port Authority, come aboard, captain."

"You're most welcome, Commissioner. Captain Amelia, commanding officer, RLS Legacy."

"Just returned from...Briga, was it?"

"Yes. Our cargo manifest is all in order as per these documents." Amelia handed over a sheaf of paperwork. "Just one last minute adjustment to report. We on-boarded some cargo on a spot contract from a freighter that was delayed at Briga by engine troubles. It's there in the addendum."

Mott thanked her, took it and began comparing it with the copies on his clipboard. While he worked, Amelia looked up and stepped away from him, approaching Doppler with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Ah, doctor. Good of you to come aboard as well."

"I could hardly refuse your kind invitation, captain," Doppler smiled. Having to maintain this air of formality with Amelia while on the deck of her ship, in earshot of her crew, was frustrating in some ways, but in other ways an entertaining kind of game that appealed to the part of him that still enjoyed such things. "I'm sorry to hear of the trouble at Briga."

"Oh, no trouble," Amelia shrugged. "At least, not for us. The other ship wasn't so lucky - they'll be fortunate to be out of dock in less than a month or two. That kind of delay to their cargo is the sort of thing that ruins reputations. So they took out a number of spot contracts with other departing vessels and we took on that portion of their cargo that was bound for Crescentia. It may have arrived here a week or two later than it would have done, but here it is in the end."

"Very kind of you," said Doppler.

"Hardly." Amelia smiled. "One of the reasons that their Lordships of the Admiralty have half the Reserve Fleet doing cargo runs is because the shipping cartels charge the world for spot work."

"If you say so, Captain," Doppler smiled back. "I'm sure you know your business better than I do."

"Quite." Amelia grinned. "Now, then, about the matter I invited you on board for - would you be able to confer with me over the charts in my cabin?"

Doppler tried not to let the leap in his heart show in his voice "I'd be delighted."

Amelia nodded in an ostensibly businesslike-manner and then turned to her first officer. "Mr Lockwright? I leave the offloading to you. Confer with Commissioner Mott regarding any matters relating to the cargo."

A young man in a blue naval uniform, the white patches of a midshipman still bright on his collar, touched his hat. "Aye, ma'am."

Amelia nodded again, then turned back to Doppler. "Come along, then, doctor. I need your expertise."

The cabin door closed behind her with a click. She didn't bother locking it - a captain's personal quarters were sacrosanct - before she turned back to Doppler and smiled. There was a palpable tension in the air now as she hung up her hat, a sense of anticipation. They were both still learning how to negotiate these moments, these unfamiliar reunions eagerly awaited and yet impossible to truly plan for.

"I-I'm glad to see you safe, Amelia," Doppler said softly. "I always am."

"As I'm glad to see you well, dear Delbert," Amelia smiled gently. "It always means a lot that you come all the way up here to meet me."

"You've been away for five weeks. I'm not going to make us wait any longer," Doppler smiled back. "Besides, you've come all the way from Briga. The longest voyage you've made since Treasure Planet six months ago. The trip from Montressor to Crescentia isn't much by comparison to that."

"Still." Amelia stepped closer to him. "I'm glad you did it. That we don't have to wait longer. These dockside processes can be interminable. And there's something I've very much been wanting to do."

Doppler swallowed. "And...what's that?"

Amelia took his hands in hers. Looked up into his dark brown eyes. Smiled, feeling the tension and burdens of the voyage washing away just in his simple presence. How, she wondered, had she gone so many years without this kind of comfort in her life? "To tell you that I've missed you. And...to show you just how much..."

Their lips met, softly at first. Neither wanted to push the other too far, too fast. These moments were too precious for that, too rare and fleeting. That boundary crossed, however, the kiss deepened into something heartfelt, something that tried to embody five weeks of waiting, yearning and worrying. Doppler's arms encircled her slender frame, holding her close. Her hand drifted to the back of his neck and rested there.

"I've missed you too, Amelia. I can't tell you how much."

Amelia purred and kissed his cheek, blushing at herself. "Like I did you, I suspect."

Doppler smiled and nodded. "Do you know how long you're here for?"

"I should be a few weeks. There's no scheduled shipments lined up. Of course, in theory that could change if something urgent comes up..." Amelia sighed but then smiled again. "But that doesn't seem terribly likely. So it looks like you're stuck with me for a little while..."

Doppler smiled as her hand toyed with the loop of his ascot. "I can think of worse fates."

Amelia grinned and kissed him again. "Good. Because I've been looking forward to coming back into your life. Hearing everything I've missed. Feeling the earth beneath my feet again."

"Well, I can't say that you've missed much," Doppler admitted. "Montressor is not the most interesting of places. I'm sure far more excitement happened to you on your voyage."

"My log book says otherwise." Amelia waved at the tome sitting open on her desk. "All quite monotonous aside from the wrangling about the extra cargo. Mind you, I'm not totally opposed to monotony. It certainly beats some of the alternatives. Even if having a couple of semi-trained neophytes as first and second officer adds a certain extra frisson to normal proceedings."

"Yes, well, I-"

There was a knock at the door and a spacer's voice called out. "Captain! Mr Lockwright's respects and you're needed on deck!"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Case in point. There's probably a tangle in a clewline that any apprentice lubber could sort out in five minutes." She raised her voice. "My compliments to Mr Lockwright and I'll attend presently, spacer!"

Doppler smiled as she stepped away and put her hat on again. "Duty calls. I understand. Should I wait here or come with you?"

"You might as well come with me." Amelia opened the cabin door. "I'm sure even you'd stand a good chance of being able to solve whatever his problem is."

Doppler laughed. "Well, I wouldn't go that far...I just hope you're right and it's nothing serious..."

The crate was suspended over the deck, a few metres above the timber, by a dockside crane. It was a large one, but flatter than it was tall, and made of a light-coloured timber that still bore faded branding from a dozen different users over the years. But there was a dark stain on the underside, and a few drops had leaked onto the deck from a gap in the planks. Even as he approached it, Doppler's sensitive nose revolted and he flinched back instinctively. It reeked of a very organic decay.

"Ye gods...what is that?"

"Report, Mr Lockwright," Amelia said crisply.

Lockwright and Mott were standing below the crate, off to one side, peering up at it. A number of the crew had gathered around. Longstanding rules made unloading a ship the responsibility of the stevedores so most of the Legacy's hands had little better to do for the time being.

"Looks like something spoiled in this crate, ma'am," said Lockwright, touching his hat in salute.

"I can't let it go ashore in this condition," Mott shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain, I must request that it be inspected here on your ship. It may represent a quarantine hazard."

Amelia scowled at the inconvenience. "Very well. What's in the crate, Mr Lockwright?"

Lockwright leafed hurriedly through his papers. "Um, not rightly sure, ma'am. It's one of the extra ones we took on just as we left Briga. From that other ship. So all the paperwork was filled out in a bit of a hurry. Just says "consumables" on the manifest...so foodstuffs of some kind, I expect."

"Well, the quickest way to find out is to open it, which we have to do anyway." Amelia sighed and pointed to some of the idling spacers. "All right. You men there, bring up a tarpaulin and spread it under the crate before we lower it onto the deck. And find a crowbar to lever it open. Let's not have this delay us any longer than necessary. Can we continue unloading from the other holds, Mr Mott?"

Mott nodded. "That would be satisfactory, Captain."

Amelia inclined her head in thanks. "Very good. Mr Lockwright, commence unloading the forward hold while we get this sorted out."

The spacers returned with a heavy tarpaulin which was unfolded to cover the deck below the crate, though not before another few drops of stinking fluid had leaked onto Amelia's spotless deck. Doppler sympathised with her, knowing how much that would vex her sense of order, and he hoped it wouldn't stain the timber. She was waiting impatiently, arms crossed, until the last of the spacers had scrambled aside from securing the tarpaulin.

"Avast lifting!" Amelia called. "Lower it back onto the deck! Easy, now!"

The crew gathered around as the crane creaked and the crate was guided gently to the deck. Amelia reached out wordlessly and took the crowbar from the spacer who had fetched it. Doppler watched, admiring how she took even this part of her duty upon herself rather than delegate it to any of the crew. She eyed the crate critically for a moment before locating the opening and jamming the bar into a gap between the wood.

"Mr Mott? Shall we proceed?"

Mott nodded. "Go ahead, Captain. I'm watching. And I can confirm that the crate seal is intact."

Amelia turned back to the crate, braced herself, and then hauled on the crowbar. It struck Doppler again that she was far stronger than her slim build suggested as a wax seal cracked, the wood creaked and nails pulled out before the side of the crate simply popped open and clattered onto the deck.

"Ugh! Get back everyone!" Doppler looked around to see who had shouted that, and then realised it was himself. The stench from the open crate was almost overwhelming, a gust of it hitting him with an almost physical force. Even witnesses without a canid's sensitivities reacted, though, Mott clamping a handkerchief to his nose and mouth and visibly retching and a chorus of disgust erupting from the spacers and stevedores. Amelia, despite a felinid's sense of smell being scarcely less acute than a canid's, didn't flinch as she lowered the crowbar and saw what had been revealed.

"Mr Lockwright?" she said coolly. "Secure the ship. Nobody gets on or off without my permission. And Mr Mott? You may need to inform your superiors in the Port Authority of this."

She stepped aside Doppler stared in horror at what was revealed, and swallowed hard to stop himself from vomiting.

"Oh...oh, my...should we call a doctor?"

"I think it's a bit late for that," said Amelia coldly.

There were bodies in the crate, under the straw packing. They had clearly been there for some time. They were entangled and piled upon each other such that Doppler couldn't tell how many there were.

"Gods..." Lockwright looked at Amelia. "What shall we do, ma'am?"

"We inform the authorities. We let the investigation run its course," said Amelia. "And we trust that justice will be brought to whoever is responsible for this."

Doppler glanced over at her and was struck by the expression on her face. Perhaps nobody else there knew her well enough to see, but amid the crowd of shocked and revolted faces that were staring at the appalling sight in the crate, the expression she wore was one of anger.