Chapter Text
Standing on the dock of the interstellar spaceport, Jane realized that she had never been this reckless in her entire life. Nearly twenty years of perfectly boring upbringing on Earth, and then the several years following, riddled with mistakes but always looking before she leapt. Now, for the first time, she was sailing off somewhere without much of a clue as to what to do once she got there. If her father could see her…
Jane’s fingers tightened on her raggedy sketchbook. She hadn’t spoken with her father in years. Perhaps he thought she was dead.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. The docks were far too crowded a place to be lost in daydreams. There were people everywhere – strange, amorphous people – all pushing and shoving and in a hurry to get somewhere. Jane was jostled along with them, too timid to push back, but riding the current all the way to her destination at the far end of the dock.
As ships went, the Legacy was a hard one to miss. She was a Navy galleon, big and broad-hulled and beautiful. Daylight glinted off her timbers and solar sails, tightly furled as she floated in port. Jane stared up at it in awe. She had commissioned that ship. She would be living on it for the next few months, sailing off into the most desolate corners of space on nothing more than a hypothesis. It was madness.
Anywhere’s better than where you’ve been, Jane thought.
A clock chimed somewhere nearby. A quarter to nine. Jane clutched her sketchbook and parasol tighter and began dodging through the crowd, picking her way toward the Legacy as fast as the surging hordes would allow. She was nearly late, and it wouldn’t do to make a bad first impression with the captain so early on.
*****
The captain of the RLS Legacy was in a foul mood. Her first mate could practically feel it rolling off her in waves as she paced her stateroom, ears flat back against her head, snarling. Arrow knew it was best to let her stew, so he ignored her pacing and contented himself with studying the maps. The captain would talk when she was ready, and talk she did, after several long minutes of scowling and tutting to herself.
“I can’t help but feel that it’s a punishment,” she growled.
“It isn’t,” Arrow said without looking up. “The Admiral knows you’re the finest in the galaxy.”
“Then why this?” Amelia gestured widely with one gloved hand. She wasn’t remarking on the ship, of course: Amelia and the Legacy had been bonded for life since her first expedition, and though they’d had their fair share of scrapes they had never let each other down. “Why this preposterous conscripted outing to the furthest reach of the known universe?”
“Because you are the finest,” Arrow said complacently. His chiseled face belied nothing but patience. “The girl paid for the best, and that is what she gets.”
“My last voyage was a paramilitary scouting mission to the Cygnus Cross,” she muttered. “A band of pirates every twenty leagues, danger at every turn, and now what? I’m to be chaperoning a dozy scientist as she studies the mating habits of three-tailed dingbats or some other ridiculous fauna.”
Mr. Arrow cracked a smile – and cracked was the perfect word for it, as it spread across his face like a fissure in rock – as he said, “I’m sure it won’t be three-tailed dingbats, ma’am.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s bound to be an absolute drudge of a trip.” Amelia sighed and ran a hand through her short-cropped ginger hair. “I suppose I’ve wasted enough time. The scientist will be here any minute, and we’re due to leave port in an hour. Ensure all requested cargo is stored belowdecks, Mr. Arrow.”
Arrow nodded and gave her a brisk “Aye, Captain,” then followed her as she doffed her trifolded hat and made for the upper deck. Unsatisfactory mission or not, she had a job to do, and she would rather see herself tied to the anchor than leave it undone.