Everything about Canopus was just too big. The transporter room was a cavern. The halls were big enough to hold parades through. And the completely unnecessary detour via the ship’s arboretum, complete with an artificial sky that was only spoiled by the windows looking out into the void, helped to sell the message.

Canopus wasn’t your average starship.

She was a testament to the 2380s design philosophy regarding the large explorers – bring everything with you, including the kitchen sink. And the kitchen.

And the rest of the neighbourhood while you’re at it.

Maybe even the park and local social centres too.

And then wrap it all in a state-of-the-art starship with enough firepower to settle almost all immediate problems and engines capable of ensuring the view outside never got boring.

“Commodore traded up, that’s for sure,” Noah said as he and Malakai followed along in the wake of the lieutenant that had greeted them at the transporter. “Though not sure about the rugrats,” he complained as Malakai kicked at a rogue soccer ball, sending it back towards a gaggle of kids playing on one of the large green spaces.

“Nah, I like it,” Malakai said, waving at the kids who gave a cheer before their attention shifted back to their game. “Element of chaos roaming the halls.”

“We have chaos back on the Bismarck.”

“No, we have Samantha Woods and her determination to treat everything like her personal shuttle. That over there,” Malakai’s arm waving at the group of kids, “is innocent chaos.”

“I don’t know. Kids on starships just feels like it’s asking for trouble.” Noah butted shoulders with Malakai, tipping his head to their tour guide. “Shouldn’t dawdle before the commodore’s personal gopher has to turn around.”

Past the arboretum, through a small promenade that felt like a slice out of any deep space station, their guide led them to a restaurant that looked decidedly empty, despite the foot traffic around it. As they neared, a hologram appeared out of thin air, looking them over before waving the party through the parting door and evaporating as quickly as it had come.

It wasn’t a large venue, enough perhaps for a couple dozen patrons. Large windows afforded a magnificent view of the nebula outside and the gaggle of ships that were starting to form up around Canopus. Perseus huge the furthest away, but her size still let her visually dominate over the much closer Argonaut.

And the only two people present inside were Commodore Theodoras and a man that Malakai didn’t recognise, sitting down at a table with a handful of plates with club sandwiches, biscuits, small savoury pies and two steaming carafes. The thick, earthy aroma of coffee filled the air, but had to compete with the savoury pastry of the pies.

“Thank you, Stirling, that’ll be all,” Commodore Theodoras said, smiling to the lieutenant. “Wait!” she quickly exclaimed as Stirling was most of the way through a turn. “Sandwich?”

“I’d prefer a potato-top pie, ma’am,” the lieutenant said, promptly taking one when offered, then bowing to both the commodore and Malakai before making himself scarce.

“Gentleman, please, sit,” the commodore said, being polite but the order was still there.

“High tea?” Malakai asked, as he and his XO sat down. “If I had known ma’am, I wouldn’t have just found a clean uniform, but my best uniform.”

“My office, or a conference room, just felt far, far to formal,” she answered, waving generously at the spread before them. “This is Commander Regem Karas, my executive officer.”

Greetings briefly filled the air, then an offer to help themselves and Malakai didn’t need to be told twice. “Tell me there are cucumber sandwiches,” he said.

“You have Lieutenant Fightmaster to thank for ensuring there are,” Commander Karas said, offering a small plate of plain white triangles to both visitors. “He was, rather adamant.”

“Did you say Fightmaster?” Noah asked.

“Stirling Fightmaster, my flag lieutenant,” the commodore answered as she poured herself a cup of tea. “And yes, it’s a real name, not something made up.” But as she set the carafe down, twirling a spoon in her cup as sugar dissolved, her demeanor shifted. “Mind telling me why Canopus had to sprint at full speed for three hours while watching, via Argonaut’s sensors, as Bismarck ran from Breen ships like you both stole something? Something they were willing to blow you out of the sky for?”

As Malakai put on his best smile, the same one he’d used to get out of trouble since he was an ensign, he could hear the groan from Noah. Even the muttered “Oh lord” as the man suddenly found his sandwiches to be the most interesting things in the universe. The commander opposite him seemed to chuckle briefly and Commodore Theodoras’ left eyebrow rose a notch.

“Well, ma’am, to be fair, we didn’t steal anything. We just beat a bunch of rogue Breen border forces and found it first.”

“Found what?” Karas asked.

“The two-hundred-year-old missing crown jewel of the Cordemi Dynasty,” Malakai answered, standing up briefly to fish around in a pocket and produce the single most magnificently red jewel anyone in that room had ever seen.

It was a flawless gem, cut like a lens that fit happily in Malakai’s palm and with a red so brilliant it screamed artificial. Something similar wouldn’t at all be beyond the capabilities of any decent manufactory in the Federation, but it was still a magnificent piece to behold.

And Malakai had been walking around with it in his pocket.

The commodore reached over, taking it from Malakai and inspecting it briefly, holding it up to look through it with a light behind it. “Okay, that’s pretty,” she said, passing it off to Regem, who practically repeated her inspection. “Who are the Cordemi? And why is this rock so important to them?”

“Got time?” Malakai asked, then winced as Noah jabbed him with an elbow, tilting his head to indicate the spread on the table. “Right, high tea.”

“I apologise for Captain Spencer, ma’am,” Noah interrupted. “We’d be more than happy to tell you about the Cordemi Dynasty. About twenty-five lightyears from here…”