Commissioner Mott's office was located near the eastern docks in a wood-walled room built onto the side of a larger sandstone building like a somewhat ramshackle limpet. Amelia reached it up a flight of stairs and waited patiently in the reception area while Mott's assistant - a dark-haired young woman - carried stacks of papers around the office. The workspace was thoroughly utilitarian and managed to give the impression of being simultaneously temporary while also long-serving. The only decorations visible were a faded picture of the Queen tucked into a corner, and a large drawing of the docks for which Mott was responsible, festooned with coloured flags and notes denoting ships and cargo. Amelia spotted the one for the Legacy and was surveying it critically.

"You're expecting Mr Mott back soon, aren't you?" she asked eventually.

"Yes, ma'am. He's just attending a ship's arrival right now." The assistant gave a small smile.

"Very well." Amelia crossed her arms, unaccustomed by her rank to being kept waiting by civilians. "I don't believe we've met, by the way. I'm Captain Amelia."

"Of the RLS Legacy," said the assistant. "Yes, ma'am. Mr Mott makes sure we memorise the shipping schedules and I know your ship arrived recently. I'm Gabrielle Lucas."

"New to the office?"

"Yes, ma'am. But I've been with the CPA for two years now."

Amelia nodded and glanced at the clock on the wall, drumming her fingers on her crossed arms. "Well, at this rate so might I be."

Lucas chuckled. "I can take a message if you like, Captain?"

"That's quite all right. But thank you."

"I heard you had some trouble on board when you arrived, ma'am?" Lucas seemed to be trying to make conversation. "Stowaways? Mr Mott had me call down the Duty Director."

"Yes, that's right. Or ex-stowaways, anyway," said Amelia. "If they were stowaways, that is."

Lucas looked up in surprise. "Oh? I thought there wasn't an investigation."

"There isn't from the CPA," said Amelia. "But it was my ship. I need to look into it even if the CPA won't."

"Oh. Um, of course." Lucas seemed taken aback by Amelia's pointed last line. She was rescued by the sound of footsteps on the creaking staircase to the office as Mott finally arrived, pushing the door open and taking off his oilskin coat to hang on the hook nearby.

"Now there's a ship I don't want to be back on too soon," he muttered, looking around and untucking a bundle of papers from his armpit. "Ms Lucas, would you take - oh, hello, Captain."

"Commissioner. A moment of your time?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I think I can just about spare that." Mott nodded. "Take these, Ms Lucas. What is it you need, Captain?"

"I need some information about a company operating on Crescentia. An E J Whitley and Sons. Some kind of wholesalers or distributors, I assume." Amelia said.

"Whitley? Can't say that I know it off the top of my head," said Mott. "There's hundreds of companies leasing premises here, though. I could have Ms Lucas pull some records if you wanted?"

"If you would," said Amelia.

"Is this for the investigation?" Lucas asked.

Mott sighed. "Investi- you know, Captain, that whole matter…"

"I thought we understood that it wasn't your business?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. Mott gave in and nodded to Lucas.

"All right, all right. The CPA always tries to make its customers happy. Ms Lucas? Dig into the central records, would you? Get the basic particulars for this Whitley and Sons outfit." He looked back to Amelia. "I doubt you'll want to wait around for that, so I'll have the information sent to you?"

"Much obliged. You know where I'll be."

"Yes, yes. The Doppler manor house." Mott nodded. "It was all in your port forms."

"Very good. I'll expect it by tomorrow." Amelia turned to leave. "Oh...one more thing, Commissioner?"

"Yes?"

"I'm right in saying that, when cargo is offloaded in one of your docks, it doesn't get taken straight to the recipient?"

"Not unless they've made special arrangement with the CPA," said Mott. "Otherwise it's taken to one of our central warehouses for checking by the Customs and Excise Service. If it has to be quarantined, that happens there. The owners of the cargo then come and collect it. It's the only way the Port Authority can know for sure how much trade there is through here, and it centralises the customs and quarantine operations more efficiently."

Amelia nodded. "As I thought. Is there any way to find out where a particular consignment was going once it left your central warehouse?"

"Of course. The final receiver's details should all be in the consignment's bill of lading." Mott looked up. "I take it you mean the consignment in which the bodies were found?"

"Precisely. Well, thank you for your time, Mr Mott. Ms Lucas."

"Good day, Captain." Lucas nodded, leaving the office. "I'll have that information for you soon!"

"I'm much obliged."

The door closed behind her. Mott sat down heavily at his overflowing desk, took off his over-large hat and rubbed the bald spot beneath it. "I don't suppose there's any chance of me dissuading you from this inquiry?"

"None."

Mott nodded resignedly. "And I don't suppose I should inform Director Coleridge either?"

Amelia grinned. The little man was more perspicacious than he seemed. "No...I suppose not."

"I thought as much." Mott gave her a brief smile. "Good luck, Captain. Really."

Doppler was feeling awkward. Not an unusual state of affairs, he had to admit, but not usually in quite this way either. Dinner had concluded at his manor, and now was usually the time of the evening when he and Amelia would move to the living room, curling up with some well-chosen books and a couple mugs of hot cocoa - or something stronger - to bask in the glow of the fire and each other's much-desired presence. But that formula didn't work so well when there was someone other than Amelia in the room instead, and especially not when that person was Ko. The sergeant-major was sitting perched on the armchair, nominally reading a book of her own but in practice seldom taking her pale blue eyes off either Doppler or the window, as if she was waiting in expectation of something. It was distinctly unnerving.

"So…" Doppler coughed. "Um...would you like something to drink? I have wine, or...cocoa. Tea. Coffee. All sorts of things, really."

"No, thank you." Ko shook her head.

Doppler nodded. Silence fell again.

"Or something to eat before you turn in?" he suggested hopefully.

"I'm not that tired yet. Besides, you're still up."

"Yes, but...I'm waiting for Amelia to get back from Crescentia."

"Me too."

"Oh. Well. Fair enough." Doppler looked away.

Ko watched him carefully. "What do you think about Amelia?"

Doppler blinked. "Pardon? I...well, I'm her...I mean, she and I...we're…"

"Yes. But what do you think about her?"

Doppler stared. An interrogation about his house had been one thing. An interrogation about his relationship was quite another. "I...hold her in the highest possible regard. I know you're an old friend of hers but I assure you that my intentions are purely honourable."

"And what are those intentions?"

"I...well…" Doppler swallowed hard and opened his mouth to reply when the doorbell rang, the chime echoing down the long hall to the living room. He was on his feet before it died away.

"Oh, thank go- I mean, I wonder who that could be."

He hurried down the hallway to the front door, glad to see a familiar, slender figure standing there under the light of the entrance lamps.

"Amelia! You're back. I was wondering where you were." He beamed in both happiness and relief.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I had to make some inquiries of the CPA and missed the ferry." Amelia smiled, stepping inside and kissing him lightly.

"Ah, that might explain this." Doppler pointed to a sealed envelope set nearby. "It arrived by courier about half an hour ago."

Amelia picked it up and saw the crest of the CPA embossed into the green wax seal. "Well, well. I commend Commissioner Mott's office on its efficiency."

They made their way back to the living room, where Ko was already on her feet, as was protocol for the arrival of a senior officer. "Good evening, ma'am."

"Good evening, sergeant-major." Amelia nodded to her. "I trust you're settling in all right? The two of getting along like a house on fire?"

Doppler thought about it. Disaster, danger, risk of property destruction…

"Yes," he said. "Um...cocoa, Amelia?"

"Capital." Amelia sat on her end of the couch and tore open the envelope while Doppler fetched her a mug from the kitchen. By the time he returned, she was reading the contents with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

"Something wrong, dear?" he asked as he put the mug down in front of her.

"Hmm. Just a dead end." Amelia turned the page. "I thought I had something. But it turns out that perhaps I didn't."

"What's that?"

"One of the dead bodies had a note giving an address on Crescentia. Somewhere I presume the poor wretches were supposed to go. The address is for a warehouse belonging to a general wholesaler...but the crate itself wasn't going there."

"No?" Doppler sat forward.

Amelia shook her head. "No. The bill of lading we took over from the Tycho Voyager said that the cargo was bound for a different destination altogether. Some fruit merchant called Newcombe's."

"Then perhaps that merchant is involved in the plot?" Doppler suggested.

"Maybe…" Amelia frowned. "It could certainly do with being checked out. But the way it works on Crescentia is that cargo doesn't go from the ship to the receiver. It goes to some central warehouse facilities for inspection. That could take days...and get the stowaways - or drug mules, whatever they are - discovered."

"Unless there was a way to divert the cargo from that warehouse," Ko pointed out. "Get the people out before they can be found."

"But...that would mean that the smugglers…" Doppler began.

"...have someone in the CPA's warehouse." Amelia concluded with a humourless smile. "That's a nasty, suspicious mind you have there, sergeant-major."

Ko shrugged. "Babysit Royal Marine recruits for long enough and you learn suspicion, ma'am. Some of those little bastards could probably tell the smugglers a thing or two about moving contraband."

Amelia smiled. "Royal Marine sergeants know a trick or two as well. Didn't you once sabotage our own ship to create a diversion so I could sneak ashore?"

Ko grinned. "That I did"

Amelia sat back. "So the question is...who is the smugglers' man on the inside?"

"They'd have to be someone who knows when the cargo is arriving," said Doppler. "Someone with access to the shipping schedules."

"Which is practically everyone," Ko pointed out. "It's not like any of that's secret. And it's not limited to the CPA either. The Customs Service and the quarantine people all follow the cargo as well."

"True, but the CPA would have better access to its own facilities." Amelia said. "And they'd be the first to know about a transhipped cargo like that one."

"Right." Doppler nodded. "So I suppose...that's where they should be looking. But what about this warehouse the note was directing the people to? The wholesaler?"

Amelia held up the paperwork. "E J Whitley and Sons. General Wholesaler. Licenced business 842507. There's nothing distinctive about them. They seem to deal with moving anything that needs moving. I saw them sending off a cartload of cheap beer."

"You went there?" Doppler looked up in surprise. Ko was looking at her too, with a flicker of alarm in her eyes.

"I was just passing by. Happened to be in the vicinity. Don't worry, I'm not taking any unnecessary risks." Amelia patted Doppler's hand, trying to ignore Ko's pointed stare. "There wasn't anything suspicious going on that I could see, although I wasn't looking terribly hard."

"There wouldn't be," said Ko. "It'd be a front for the smugglers. A legitimate business to make their operations look above board while their real work goes on behind. That's how it was back in Colport. Everyone knew there were certain businesses that sold one thing during the day, and other things at night. Places where you didn't look through the windows as you passed them."

"Unless there's an insider working there, too," said Doppler.

Ko shook her head. "No, that's too risky. If they're giving notes to their mules telling them to turn up at a place, everyone there needs to be in on it. This Whitley and Sons has to be the front for the smugglers."

"Of course, proving that would be a different matter," said Amelia. "A note with nothing but an address doesn't prove much. Even when Dr Gray works out what they were carrying, there's still nothing definite linking anything to anyone on Crescentia."

"It'd be enough, surely, to get the CPA to investigate?" said Doppler.

"Unlikely. And certainly if we're going to accuse one of their own of involvement, it needs to be on stronger grounds than this." Amelia sighed and stood up, collecting her mug. "I'm afraid I've let this go cold, darling. I'll heat it up and be back in a moment." She smiled at Doppler.

"Oh. Of course. I'm not going anywhere." Doppler smiled back.

"I'll come with you, ma'am. I could do with a top-up." Ko stood as hurriedly as she could, picking up her cane and following Amelia to the kitchen. There, voices muffled by the sound of the boiling kettle, she turned to look at the other felinid severely.

"I thought you were being careful, ma'am," she whispered.

"Scolding me, sergeant-major?" Amelia smiled at Ko's fierce protectiveness. "I told you, I just passed by Whitley and Sons. I didn't stop to talk to anyone, didn't go inside."

"Did anyone notice you?"

"I watched my back all the way home," Amelia said. "Nobody followed me."

Ko raised an eyebrow. "Due respect, ma'am, that's not what I asked."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Of course I was noticed. There were people in the street. It's Crescentia, Ko. People live there."

Ko sighed. "Yes, and some of them are dangerous. Especially the ones you're on the tail of. They have ways and means to get at you."

"Hence why you're here," Amelia reminded her. "Speaking of which...how's it going?"

"The place isn't exactly a fortress, but it's not too bad," said Ko. "Of course, if someone wants to get in somewhere badly enough, they'll find a way…"

"I meant with Delbert," said Amelia.

"Oh." Ko blinked. "Well...I mean, he's all right. He obviously thinks a lot of you."

"Yes, I'd noticed that." Amelia smiled.

Ko crossed her arms. "You're sure about keeping him in the dark about this? I haven't told him anything, of course, and you know I won't. But…"

Amelia sighed. "I...I'm sure. I don't want him worrying about me. Goodness knows he does that enough already."

"As you say, ma'am." There was a glimmer of doubt in Ko's normally-unquestioning gaze. "But…"

"Yes, I know." Amelia looked away.

"He thinks the worlds of you," said Ko. "You don't have to spend much time with him to see that."

Amelia didn't reply. Then the kettle switched off and the boiling sound died away. She sighed and picked up her mug to add some hot water to it.

"You're going back up there tomorrow?" said Ko.

Amelia nodded. "Yes. Continuing inquiries. I'll be careful, I promise."

Ko watched her move back into the living room, cradling her steaming mug. She sighed and shook her head.

"Not sure I'm the one who needs convincing of that, ma'am..."

There weren't many lights on in the small toxicology lab attached to the base hospital. It wasn't used much, most of the hospital cases being of the blunt-force type rather than anything else, but ships' engineers occasionally managed to be exposed to some chemical or another, and personnel quarantined for unknown ailments were routinely subjected to a battery of wide-ranging tests. Gray, her face masked, was standing at a workstation, an array of equipment in front of her. Attempts to render down a sample of the multi-coloured crystals she'd recovered from the dead bodies had proven difficult. They had been disappointingly resistant to heat, but she had instead improvised a mix of acids similar to what could be found in the average humanoid's stomach. That had appeared to do the trick, after which it was a relatively simple matter of isolating the different layers of chemical, separating them and applying test papers which she fed into a machine of bronze and brass that stood nearby. It chattered in a clockwork voice, a cylinder on top of it rotating like a head before laboriously printing out a long ticker tape of results. Gray tore it off and was scrutinising it closely when she heard the door open and she turned quickly to see Rocca padding into the room.

"Thought I'd find you here," she said. "So. No point hiding anything. What are the results?"

Gray wrinkled her nose in irritation. ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE HERE?

"Are you?" Rocca tried to look past her to see the printout, but the Macropodian was considerably taller than her and so the attempt failed.

I'M WORKING.

"On official business?"

Gray thought about it. IT CONCERNS THE NAVY.

"Does it concern anyone in particular in the Navy?" Rocca raised an eyebrow. "Anyone of our mutual acquaintance? A former colleague in arms?"

Gray's poker face was impenetrable. Rocca sighed.

"You're not the only one who's served with Amelia, doctor. I know at least some of what's going on."

HOW?

Rocca shrugged. Now it was Gray's turn to raise an eyebrow as she considered the list of people who both could and would have told her, and found that it was exceptionally short. And Ko had the gall to warn Amelia about doing things without telling Dr Doppler...she thought, without surprise. Reaching a decision that the impasse was doing no good for anyone, she handed over the printout. Rocca took it with a barely-perceptible nod of thanks and read it.

"Makes sense. This is what they were carrying?"

Gray nodded.

"No wonder it killed them. I've heard of this stuff. They call it 'berries' don't they?"

Gray shrugged. The colloquial name was of little interest to her, as the scientific one told her everything she needed to know.

"Dicamethylandroxamine in a monosaccharide crystal." Rocca shook her head. "They're clever when they want to be, aren't they? But it's not a small job to produce stuff like that in quantity…whoever's behind this has some serious resources and expertise at their disposal."

Gray nodded. CORRECT.

Rocca bit her lip as she considered the implications. "You're being careful, right?"

OF COURSE, Gray bristled.

"Is Amelia?"

Gray paused. Rocca watched her face, then sighed.

"Yeah...that sounds about right…"

Amelia sat in Gray's office the next morning, holding up a glass tube containing a number of the colourful crystals that the surgeon had recovered from the corpses in the crate. She rattled them, then looked back at the document that Gray had handed her.

"Dicamethylandroxamine," she said. "Care to translate that for a mere naval captain, doctor?"

Gray was already writing out an explanation. IT'S A STIMULANT THAT ACTS ON THE CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM. IF TOO MUCH IS INGESTED IT CAN CAUSE A FATAL OVERDOSE. IT'S SUSPENDED IN A MONOSACCHARIDE CRYSTAL TO CONTROL THE DOSAGE.

"Mono what?"

SUGAR, Gray wrote. IT DISSOLVES IN THE STOMACH ACID AT A PREDICTABLE RATE. AND MAKES SWEET WHAT WOULD OTHERWISE BE AN UNBEARABLY FOUL TASTE.

"I see. How long does it last?"

ESSENTIALLY INDEFINITELY.

"Not a bad product, then. If you're having to ship it between planets." Amelia nodded thoughtfully.

THE DRUG IS KNOWN BY THE STREET NAME 'BERRIES,' Gray went on. FOR OBVIOUS REASONS. ITS MANUFACTURE IS A DIFFICULT PROCESS. BINDING THE ACTIVE INGREDIENTS WITHIN THE SUGAR WITHOUT BONDING TO IT REQUIRES DELICATE CHEMISTRY.

"And that means what?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

THE SYNDICATE HAS EXPERTISE AND RESOURCES, wrote Gray. THIS IS NOT AN AMATEUR OPERATION.

"Despite them using a fruit merchant as a recipient for a shipment of drugs called 'berries'?" Amelia smiled wryly. "They certainly have a sense of humour, at least."

Gray looked unamused. WHAT'S YOUR PLAN FROM HERE?

"Well, it couldn't hurt to check out the fruit merchant the crate was supposedly going to. Newcombe's Produce and Comestibles. I doubt that it'll amount to anything." Amelia said. "After that...well, the only two other leads we have are the wholesalers on the Nightside and the CPA's central warehouse.

Gray nodded. LOGICALLY, THERE WOULD HAVE TO BE AN INSIDER SOMEWHERE WORKING WITH THE SYNDICATE. OR SEVERAL.

"That's what I think. The question is where, and who they are." Amelia put the test tube back on Gray's desk. "But thank you for this, doctor. It's most helpful. And another sign of the kind of people behind this."

IF THE DRUG MANUFACTURER IS ON BRIGA, THE AUTHORITIES THERE MAY BE ABLE TO TAKE SOME ACTION.

"Is there a way of knowing that?"

Gray shook her head. UNFORTUNATELY NOT. THE COMPOUNDS ARE UNIVERSAL.

"Ah, well. In that case we'll probably need some firmer evidence." Amelia sighed. "Finding anything on Crescentia is hard enough. Finding anything on Briga is a challenge beyond that."

Gray watched her for a moment. WHEN DO YOU STOP?

Amelia blinked. It hadn't actually occurred to her that she'd have to consider that. "I suppose...when all avenues have been explored."

Gray wrinkled her nose. NO LATER.

"I promise, doctor. Nothing injurious to my health." Amelia smiled and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, though...I have to go and find some berries."

Newcombe's Produce and Comestibles was a modestly-sized business near a residential district. It occupied the corner of a building at street level and had tables and racks set outside bearing an array of fruit and vegetables both familiar and exotic. Amelia barely glanced at it as she strode inside.

"Can I help you?" An assistant looked up and caught sight of her uniform, adding, "ma'am?"

"I'm looking for the manager," said Amelia. "Are they available?"

"Oh. Yes, ma'am. I'll get them right away." The assistant put down a tray of purps and hurried away, leaving Amelia alone for a moment. They returned soon after, following a rotund man who was wiping his hands on a striped apron and looking concerned.

"Captain? Is there a problem?"

"I'm here to make inquiries. There was an incident on my ship." Amelia turned to him. "You're Mr Newcombe, I take it?"

"Yes, that's right. And Captain...if there's been a problem with provisioning your ship, I'm afraid you'll have to take it up with the Guild of Chandlers at-"

"No, no. Nothing like that." Amelia waved a hand. "It's regarding an item of cargo. My ship recently arrived from Briga with a crate on board addressed to you, here."

"From Briga?" Newcombe looked surprised. "What was it?"

"Well, that's what I'm here to discuss," said Amelia, not wanting to give away too much. "What have you ordered in recently?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing from Briga, anyway." Newcombe blinked. "Most of our range is grown on Montressor. I pick up a few things here and there from the wholesalers, but I don't import much. The CPA's inspection fees are too much for a small business like this, and I can't afford the delays."

It was Amelia's turn to look surprised. "I assure you, Mr Newcombe, the crate was addressed to you."

"I can't explain that," said Newcombe. "Perhaps it was a mistake? There's quite a few greengrocers here. It might have been going to one of them?"

"Perhaps." Amelia frowned, folding her arms. "Well. I suppose that must be it. Sorry to have bothered you."

"It's no trouble." Newcombe shrugged. "And if you're ever looking for fresh victuals for your next voyage, Captain, can I suggest directing your chandler to source them from us? Our quality is-"

"Yes, yes." Amelia waved a hand, irritable to hide her embarrassment. "I'm sure it's unimpeachable. Good day to you."

"Good day, Captain. Safe sailing."

Amelia left the shop, still frowning to herself. She hadn't really expected to find anything at Newcombe's given that any illegal imports would have to be recovered from cargo before the risk of CPA or Customs inspection in their warehouses, but she had hoped for there to at least be something, anything that might indicate a new lead or line of inquiry to pursue. Instead, she was leaving completely empty handed. Unaccustomed to such failure, she found herself hesitating before deciding what to do next.

"Hello, Captain...Amelia, isn't it?"

Amelia looked up, and took a moment to place the face and voice. Gabrielle Lucas, Mott's assistant, was greeting her. She was picking among the tables outside, an old leather satchel over her shoulder.

"That's right. Ms Lucas, I recall." She nodded to her. "What brings you here?"

"It's on the way to Mr Mott's office, and I do quite like these citrus grapes." Lucas held up a bunch of small yellow spheres. "I find some fresh fruit helps to pass the day. Did that information reach you all right yesterday?"

"Yes, it did." Amelia said. "Thank you. It was most timely."

"Just my job, Captain. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you." Lucas smiled.

"I most certainly will."

"But you'll have to excuse me for now." Lucas said apologetically, stepping past Amelia. "I'd better pay for these then get to the office. It'll be a busy day today. There's an update to the shipping schedule that I'll need to have memorised."

"Then don't let me detain you." Amelia nodded. "Good day, Ms Lucas."

"Thank you, Captain." Lucas smiled again and disappeared into the shop.

Amelia was walking back towards the docks, passing a set of noticeboards, on which a pair of robots with CPA markings were pasting up long rolls of poster paper. Glancing at them as she passed, she saw that it was the new shipping schedule, and she would have paid it little thought until her eye caught the name of one of the ships expected to arrive soon.

The ill-fated Tycho Voyager was on her way at last. As one line of inquiry closed, another opened...