"As it happens," Camilla half shouted through her scarf "I do have a good cogitator. A really good one."

"Throon abuv," Alcander breathed as the shuttlecraft swept around the arm of the Godfarthing orbital station. There were several freighters at dock, a pair of shift ships and a half dozen intra-system haulers. The vessel at the furthert docking arm put them all to shame. She was over four kilometers in length, long and dagger shaped from her vast engine to her ivory and gold chased prow. Cathedral sized spires rose gracefully from her spine, crested with sensor towers or gargoyle mouthed weapon emplacements. The hull gleamed white, the result of a oozlite ceramic bonded to her armored hull plates, subtle veins indistinguishable from this range save as a soft shimmer at the edge of vision. She looked like a queen visiting some slum in her domain to distribute arms on Emperor's Day.

"Thes is yoor shep?" Alcander asked in obvious amazement. There were ships, and then there were ships. Camilla bobbled the controls slightly, feeding more power into the drive than she shallow dive required. It was an unusual error for her but the idea that this was her ship now... she recovered, lifting the shuttle in a burn that put her back on trajectory for the main docking bay. 

"The Navarre," she said with pride, "a Bilbao class heavy frigate, laid down in the Royal Yard at Aragon nearly two thousand years ago." The naval history meant nothing to the detective. The Bilbao class had been created in the dark days of the Jericho Collapse, when fleet doctrine had put a premium on fighter craft. Stadling the line between a destroyer and a light cruiser, she was overgunned for a destroyer with hanger bays of a light carrier. Like most something for nothing designs, it hadn't prospered in action. They were too expensive and complicated to produce, when the same resources could create a dedicated cruiser or carrier vessel which would do each job more efficiently. Mostly they had ended their lives as picket units out on the edge of the Ultima Segmentum but the same traits that made them poor fleet units, the oversized engines, the hangar bays, the ordinance magazines, made them exceptional far traders and explorers. Official legend had it that Ramone Belchite himself had won her in a duel, though the patch historical records on the onboard cogitattors suggested it was more likely a card game.

"An she yoors," Alcander pressed.

"She soon will be," Yvraine said proudly, clapping Camilla on the shoulder as she came forward from the rear of the shuttle, having set up clearances with the station and the world below and coordinated their arrival with the Navarre. Far ‘below’ them Camilla could see the beacons of lighters as they ferried salt from the planet below into the Navarre’s ventral hangars. Business had to continue, regardless of the death of the Old Man. By now the Navarre had expanded to fill the viewport and Camilla swept down her length, through a maze of spires and weapon mounts until they reached the dorsal hangers. Beyond the magnetic containment field lay a hanger bay that would have been the envy of many a planetary aerodrome. Sleek lightning fighters lay in long rows, behind them the bulk of starhawks and assault boats. Two detachments of leigemen stood with rifles at port arms as the shuttle settled down on the deck with hardly more than a clink.

The shrill of Bosun’s pipes blasted as Camilla came down the ramp, and the troops snapped to attention with commendable precision. Camellia, slightly embarrassed, reached for her sword to offer a salute, but remembered at the last minute what would happen if she drew it. Instead she lay her hand on her chest and bowed.

“Welcome back boss,” a perky young women with shockingly green hair and bright golden input augmetics on her arm, each fashioned so it appeared the gem at the center of an armlet. She touched her finger to her brow in a salute that would have given a drill instructor an immediate heart attack.

“Jo,” Camilla acknowledged. She made a broad gesture to encompass the parade.

“Was all this strictly necessary?” she asked, a touch of acid in her voice. The green haired woman shrugged.

“This is the first time you have come aboard as the heir to the dynasty. It is tradition and you know what the Old Man used to say. Jo struck a pose and when she spoke it was in an imitation of the Old Man’s deep basso that was so good it made Camilla’s heart twinge.

“In the end, what allows us to conquer the stars is not our weapons, but our traditions, our honor, blah blah blah,” She dropped back into her normal speaking voice. “Speaking of which are we going to stop fracking around and…” Jo cut off midspeech and gave Alcander a searching look.

“Who is this? Is he a cop? He looks like a cop, he has to tell me if he…” Jo babbled but Camilla raised a hand to stop her.

“This is Alcander, he is helping us investigate the Old Man’s death,” Camilla explained.

“Alcander this is Jocasta ap’Gwyn, our… my master at arms,” she admitted a trifle reluctantly.