The large window of the office looks out to the bay, a normal, familiar scene.

Also familiar is the sight of the three ships at anchor there- the Dauntless, the Interceptor II, and the Worthington. Their sails are furled, but their flags and banners can be seen waving gaily in the ever constant ocean breeze.

Three ships, for the Commodore to command. Three ships for one specific purpose.

There is a chill in the afternoon tropical sunshine, cutting through the dream.