Danforth and Amelia: Kuiper Belt

Amelia had called me to the command bridge of La Pucelle a few minutes and several light-years before I stepped onto it, just in time to catch the transition from immaterium to void. The kaleidoscope of unnameable colors swirled and shifted once last time to glittering blackness, vomiting space's nausea out of its disgorging maw into my guts. My stomach lurched, as if it was only now catching up with the rest of me a quarter-galaxy distant. I murmured a simple benediction of thanks to the God-Emperor, to Him-On-Earth who was so close now I could feel Him etching my cerebellum with His agony.
“I come to bring you more,” I whispered. I did not ask forgiveness – did He ever ask that of us?
I crossed the bridge with silent strides, the crew not parting for me but so engrossed in their tasks they did not notice when I stepped around them. The shipmistress was curled in her command throne, her voidmaster at her right shoulder and my sister lurking on her left. Seen from the back the hunch of her shoulders was profound now and seen with wytchsight the wings were a bloody corona in her aura. She was almost lost to me, to us all – except the Emperor on His Throne calling us home to a planet few of us had ever seen.
I had seen it. I didn't waste time lifting my eyes to discern that jaundiced marble amid the dozens of other tawdry jewels on the black velvet of the Sol system. Instead I concentrated on the people, nodding politely at Godwyn and laying my hand comfortingly on Alicia's shoulder.
She acknowledged the touch with a grim nod, but did not call me Rogal. Perhaps there was enough of her left I would be able to say goodbye.
“Captain M'mwrawrnaow,” I said easily. The Felinid grinned like, well . . . you know the simile.
“Getting better, Inquisitor,” she purred, “but you just called me a . . . Well, it is true,” she admitted, “but a girl doesn't like to admit . . .”
“Terra,” I said brusquely. “Terra, Amelia. The Palace. I need to . . .”
She gave a sort of snorting hiss and sat up straight in her chair. “I've got you to the Sol System so fast I'm sure they are composing shanties about my navigational brilliance from here to Kar Duniash,” she growled. “Credit where credit is due . . .”
“We have arrived ahead of the Traitors . . .” Alicia murmured. “The Ruinstorm did not stop us . . .” She started and shook herself back through ten thousand years. “I mean, did not stop them. That is . . .” Her whole face shuddered closed and a single crimson tear trickled down her cheek. “Please, Verity,” she whispered. “Please . . .”
I did not want to ignore her, but I naively hoped I would have enough time. “Planetfall, Shipmistress,” I demanded. “Dock at Lion's Gate. I will do the rest.”
Amelia actually laughed. “Lion's Gate?” she howled derisively. “Danforth, we'll be lucky to be allowed past the Pluto defenses without a triple-sealed writ from the Jovain Harbor-Thaines! We are on an unsequenced charter – they will let us when they have an opening and if they deign to do so! And Lion's Gate? The Portmaster there is generations behind with his vellumwork, even if he had a berth. Months, years, decades, Danforth. Go to your stateroom and hang yourself on a hook and let me . . .”
“Planetfall, kitten!” I roared. I flashed my Rosette. “Get me to Lion's Gate and this will do the rest. Get me there or, Emperor help me, you'll see my claws!”
She snarled, needle-sharp teeth flashing in the sacred light of Sol. She swung a hand dismissively at the dozens of other ships not only visible but close enough to be recognizable as ships becalmed in bureaucratic doldrums as we were. Her own claws had popped instinctively from their sheaths, but her voice was simply dismissive. “There are a score of Mandates out there,” she opined. “Probably a few with your name – shuttle over to one and swap tales about the orphanage and reminisce about the dust. It will all do as much good. It is a lifetime to get from Pluto to Terra even for you, Inquisitor.”
“Then it is fortunate you have nine,” I said coldly. “I am not getting from Pluto to Terra – Captain M'mwrawrnaow is.”
She squirmed within herself, purring contentedly as her pride was petted. “Mmmrowmm . . . call me that again and you'll have to marry me . . .”
She smiled, green eyes flashing like leaves under ice, and I grinned myself. “Get me to Terra and I will,” I promised.