Pennyroyal

C

oming into port was always loathsome. The back-and-forth between the ship and control tower was drawn-out and stiff. The standard speed for entry was half a knot, and yardzones always started 100 meters out from the actual docks. Almost ten minutes of inching your way forward, watching the dockhands gather around the platform you had chosen. They would wait until the ship was about fifteen feet out, and then all start waving their boat hooks in your general direction. It was a small miracle if you could pull in without taking damage.

The captain could see the scorn on the washed-up ex-sailors holding those sticks, even from so far away. As if they were better than a whaler-boat. At least he could muster a shipful of louts to pretend at sailing. Just once, he'd like to see one of their suits fail. To watch as the disgust turned to terror for a brief second, before ballooning with blood. It was once so common. Now, with the air-pressure brought by the shimmering yardshield, it would take a truly star-crossed man to die in this place. It still happened, of course. But in total, the death toll of working the ports was shrinking by the year. The captain was old for a sailor, but not old enough to know such danger by experience. Ancient mariners had told him tales, and he hoped to have his own by the time he was dead. The ship, for her part, still had some bloodstains from incidents in the early '20s.

Pennyroyal was an old tugboat, designed to haul other ships through narrow or crowded installations. She went into an unplanned retirement when micro-thrusters became standard. Now she made her living in the hated necessity of gathering whale-oil to power the engines of luxury liners and war fleets. Being able to drag dead weight in the thousands of tons became an advantage when dealing with the massive beasts that could be found in the wide abyss. It could take weeks to render down even a juvenile basilosa. Far more efficient to work-as-you-go, dragging the corpse behind. In this respect, Pennyroyal had been at the head of a new wave of whaling. Most ships in the business had adopted this model as best they could, and most "new" whaling vessels (almost always older ships that had been re-purposed) were of her tugboat ilk.

Making these waves in the whaling world had not gone unnoticed by greater society. Ever since the planetary days, whaling had been unpopular. Low work for low-down scum. Now in space, there was little difference. A man who improved the efficiency of faster-than-light slipspace engines would be hailed as a king of industry. The same improvement in whaling labelled you Ahab and placed your head in the crosshairs of every conservationist movement in the sector. How they had gotten their ideas always confounded the captain. Space was quite literally infinite. These creatures inhabited a territory wider than the human mind could comprehend. How was it that people believed their drivel about "saving the galaxy"?

It was not as if the whalers were out killing indiscriminately. There were rules in place, and hefty punishments for breaking them. He had operated within the law for his entire career. If people wanted to look down on him for making their fuel cheaper, let them. He knew what side history would take. The future would say little of him. A small controversial figure within a vast universe would be quickly overshadowed, but he knew his actions had produced more good than bad. His three-sentence epitaph, to reverberate through all history, would smile on him. "Here was a man of industry, who worked tirelessly. His actions paved the way for great things. Fate propelled him into his controversial position, but it was his own strength that kept his crew alive." A better legacy than most could hope for.

A sudden stop meant that the ship had finally docked. He'd been lost in thought for most of it, going through the motions without paying attention. Experience allowed a degree of looseness in piloting. He rose from his seat, locking his blade-prosthetic onto his knee with a click. Perhaps they would not be so quick to call him Ahab without the damned thing. As he moved to leave the bridge, he remembered the loss with a shudder. Grinding machinery and screeching klaxons filled his mind. The pain was still there, it never truly left. As if his leg was a ghost haunting him. But with no whale to exact revenge upon, how could this spirit be quelled?

The bridge's door hissed loudly, opening to reveal a rough-looking woman. Pennyroyal's first mate. She stood in the doorway, stiff and expressionless as always. The captain glanced at her laser pistol, weathered from years of use. More than a few pirates and mutineers had been on the bad end of it.
"Captain."
"How long is this going to take, Gali?"
"We've got men suiting up now, sir. They'll be back with the creosote and lumber within the hour. Should be ready to warp her out before the end of the standard day."
"Good. Any new damage from the dockhands?"
"Nothing major, just a few scrapes. She's got a new dent from coming in a little too hard. Only thing pressing is the damage to the interior wall."
The captain nodded.
"Now that we're in port, I want the men responsible for that incident replaced."
A twitch of the brow showed the mate's surprise.
"But sir, one of-"
"No excuses! They knew the rules when they signed up. If they've got no way home, it's their own damn fault!"
"Sir-"
"Are you questioning my authority?"
"No, sir. I-"
"Then watch your tongue."
The captain towered menacingly over his subordinate despite being almost a foot shorter.
"Yessir."
"Anything else?"
"No, sir."
"Then you're to break the news to the freedmen. Get them off the ship before you do."
"Yessir."
Without another word, Gali was gone. The captain understood her doubts. One of the troublemakers was the best shot on the ship. Losing him was a high price. But give an inch and the crew would take a mile. They needed to be afraid to depose you if they couldn't be convinced to like you. He would personally inform the rest of the crew of the newly vacant positions, after repairs were finished. They couldn't second-guess his decisions in the vacuum. The threat of a keelhauling was too great. He left the bridge and made his way to his quarters.

The captain's quarters were spartan. Just enough room to hold a bed, nightstand, and chair. It was more than most of the crew had. He sat down and took the room in. On the walls hung tapestries from various ports around the sector, with bright color and incredible detail. Thread smaller than a micrometer allowed for massive, complex patterns and fine images of fantastic beasts. Giant squid, space-serpents, all the classics. He felt almost sick from the "sailor" impression the things gave. The rest of the items in the room seemed more nautical in the shadow of those damn rugs. A globe that projected the stars from an arbitrary location. A small map of the sector, labeling stars and giving a list of ports near each. A baleen tooth from Earth. Whalers of the past had caught that one. The only thing that did not seem explicitly maritime was the large knife sitting on the bed. The captain knew it was little more than a tool for rendering the catch, but something about its size was unnerving. It felt like the knife was menacing him.

Perhaps it was upset at lack of use. They'd been sailing for nearly four months with no sign of any whales, now. Everyone was getting antsy. The tension had caused the brawl that forced them to dock here in the first place. Tempers flaring while on voyage was a given, but they hadn't been this extreme in years. Left a man-sized hole in one of the interior walls. Not a life-and-death issue, but it would be disrespectful to Pennyroyal to leave her in shambles. Who knows what she might do if her ailments were ignored. Hopefully their luck would change after she was repaired. The crew needed something soon, otherwise there would be hell to pay. Removing the troublemakers would only delay the inevitable if they couldn't bag something.

The captain shook his head and stood up. So much time in the ship was probably giving him a kind of cabin fever, to entertain such thoughts. He needed to rest his mind, to get out of the recycled air. He needed a drink. Rising from his chair, he looked at the knife again. Something about it called to him. Going into the town held potential dangers that might sate its appetite. Madness, surely. But he tucked it into one of his pockets. As he left the room he noticed something on one of the tapestries. A picture of a banana was woven deftly into the hull of one of the little ships.

* * *

Gali marched down the hall, trying to come up with a plan. This was the worst possible outcome. How to tell five pissy sailors they're fired? God, even the ship's designated sharpshooter was in that brawl. Was losing him really worth the damned strictness the captain was always rambling about? Running the ship with half a crew wouldn't be easy. They barely held things together with the eleven they had. Catching any whales before they got back to full strength would be impossible. It would probably take at least a week's trip to a larger port to get more hands, and maybe another month to even catch sight of a whale.

The crew wouldn't take that. They couldn't, after being so long without results. Well, if the old man wanted the threat of mutiny, he'd get the threat of mutiny. Get them off the ship first, he said. Best way to avoid more damage. Smart, even in stupidity. That's what kept the captain around all these years. He might choose to ignore the path away from an ion storm, but he'd be able to sail through it flawlessly. But where to take them? Somewhere innocent. A bar? Gali paused. She was in front of the crew cabin's door.

The possibility of never seeing the "freedmen" again hit her suddenly. Pennyroyal's crew was piecemeal, but they were tight-knit. Some of the men were almost like family to her. How could she maroon any of them in this port? Hell, she didn't even have a good idea where they were. They might be on the far end of the galaxy. No way home for a sailor who had only the clothes on their back. Maybe she could call in some favors. Have the ones who were supposed to be left behind hired by friends on other ships, or at least taken somewhere they could get back on their feet. She'd have to spend some time on the holograph tonight. With a deep breath, Gali stepped into the room.

The mood was tense. The only people there were the ones who had been in the brawl. The big-ass hole in the aft wall was also still there. God, they really did throw Erik through it. Him, Shel, Anne, Dave, and Jeb were strewn about. Each still dealing with the bruises and cuts from the fight and trying to stay calm while waiting for their punishment. They looked expectantly at Gali as she stepped into the room. Jeb eyed her laser gun fearfully. In a causal tone, she spoke.
"We're going for drinks as soon as the rest of the crew gets back."
The sailors were visibly confused. This was not the punishment they had expected.
"What's the catch?"
Erik. Always too quick to speak. Probably why he went through the wall.
"No catch, but you have to buy your own."
After a moment of confused silence, Shel piped up.
"That's a catch, innit?"
"Shut up, dumbass! You'd rather get flogged?"
"No, but it-"
"Buying our own drinks isn't a catch! It's normal!"
"Hey, cut him some slack!"
"Oh, what're you gonna do, knock me through the wall again?"
"I might!"
"That's enough!"
All the sailors went quiet. Gali continued.
"Another hole in that wall would keep us here another day. We're going to work out your problems in a bar."
Gali looked pointedly at the hole in the wall.
"Where they expect sailors to break things."
Jeb rolled his eyes. Those who had been poised to fight backed down. Maybe the old man was half-right. You needed a kind of charisma and a kind of strictness to run a ship. Not one or the other.

* * *

Quartermaster Lu had been talking for almost thirty minutes. The captain had stopped listening after five. All dull reports on the condition of the harpoons and the railcannons, the cost of food for the crew, the income loss incurred from having to dock for even half a day. All the intricate ways they were squandering any profit from the last catch. You'd think he had his whole head replaced with a computer, rather than just slotting in some extra ALUs. He had caught the captain in the hall as he was leaving the ship, and insisted on going over the most recent financial report in person. Always a slog, but at least there was usually enough to do that he would try to stay brief. This time there was nothing to do but wait for the repairs to be done, and that meant a full presentation on each atom the ship had lost over the last week and why it was important. The instant his diatribe began to slow down, the captain gave a hasty farewell and nearly sprinted for the airlock.

The repairs were underway, by the sounds of manual labor coming from the crew quarters. The captain sealed his suit and pressed a button to open the exterior door. The brow slid noisily from somewhere within Pennyroyal, lazily striking the dock. Even in this impact there was enough force to start pushing the ship away. An unseen dockhand carefully stopped and guided her back to where she was before, as the captain walked "ashore". He felt strange leaving Pennyroyal like this. It wasn't something he often did. She was his, he was hers. But he needed to take some time away, to clear his head and loosen up.

Toddling along the harbor, he drew no special interest from the figures scurrying to and fro. What consideration was an old man worth? The various robotic creatures hefting cargo did not mind the captain, but he minded them. Seeing exposed gears, hydraulic arms, and other such things felt like a bad omen. He always tried to be away when the crewmen were repairing some mechanical fault of his ship for this reason. They understood his superstition, or pretended to, and that was good enough. When the crew pretended to understand, that meant they liked you or they feared you. Either was fine. A loud clang and sudden pain in his nose returned the captain to the real world. He'd walked helmet-first into an automated crane, smacked his nose into the visor. Damn things always seemed to move to the least convenient spot, and then just sit there waiting to be in the way. Never could trust a machine. He walked around the thing carefully, drawing a laugh from a nearby dockhand who had been watching for some time.

He passed through an airlock, from the dockyard into the town proper. There was a sign that probably had the place's name scrawled on it. It was written in the local language and completely inscrutable to the captain. It didn't really matter what port this was, they all had alcohol somewhere. As he wandered the busy streets, he noticed that none of the buildings or merchant stalls were marked. The locals must be able to tell them apart by who's around what, along with knowing the streets. Well, he was no native. He'd probably need directions. He hailed a woman walking towards him, but was completely ignored. This was the general pattern for a few minutes. The captain would try to get someone's attention, and they would act as though he was invisible. Never trust anyone other than a sailor, for exactly this reason. Anyone else was stupid and useless. Sailors were at least only one of the two. Eventually a local deigned to speak with him. The man knew no more than five words of English, so there was much gesturing involved. After some frustrated miming of a bottle the man said something incomprehensible, pointed to the right, and said "Day-Glow". The captain nodded and began to walk in that direction.

A few more minutes of searching, and he was able to find what looked like a bar. People were milling about inside with drinks, carousing in small groups outside, the works. The captain did a quick scan of the patrons within, to make sure none of them were redheaded. To his surprise, he saw Gali seated at a table. Poor girl looked mortified. She was with the sailors who had been in the fight, likely delivering the news now. A clever trick, to entice them with the promise of drink. She was looking right at him. Why? Maybe he shouldn't go in. The captain being there right now would likely make the situation much worse. He felt the weight of the knife in his pocket. Yes, it would make the situation far worse. He'd find a different bar.

The other bar was quite easy to find, comparatively. This one had a neon cocktail glass mounted next to the door. The captain didn't know what its name was, and he didn't particularly want to know. He went in, elbowed past some of the less sober patrons, and sat at the counter. Before the bartender could say anything, the captain was pointing at a bottle behind the bar. He didn't know what was in it, and didn't care. The man poured a glass of the stuff, a sickly yellow liquid, and slid it over. The captain downed it in one swig, feeling a peculiar kind of coolness as the liquor went down his throat. Some kind of reverse-whiskey, maybe. He asked for another, and received. As he was drinking the second, he realized that no one had singled him out while in town. He was almost a ghost to most of the people he'd tried to ask for help. No one called him Ahab, asked where the white whale was, or tried to punch him. He was just another sailor, like the thousands they had seen before. It was nice to be able to drink in peace, but some part of him felt disappointed. Being recognized, even for ill, always had its allure. He was evidently not as famous as he had thought. Perhaps his epitaph wouldn't be as long as he'd hoped. He signaled the barkeep for another shot. It would be the third of many.

* * *

The bar Gali had found, Day-Glow, was busier than she'd expected. Good thing, too. The men would be less likely to try something with so many people, might be dangerous to cause a fight with all the drunks around. There was a booth available with just enough room for all six of them, and she claimed it quickly. The sailors ambled up to the bar to get their drinks, and seemed relaxed as they slowly made their way back over. Erik was talking to the others, but she could only catch the tail end of what he was saying over the noise of the place.
"... right does he think he has, anyway?"
There was a general clamor as they all sat down. Shel pointed to the empty table in front of Gali.
"Where's yours, Gal?"
"Someone has to remember how to get back to the docks."
"Bah! Live a little. Here, I'll get another one and you take mine."
"No, it's fi-"
Dave whooped.
"Fine! Fine, she says. Always fine."
He pointed at her. Shel pushed his mug across the table.
"You need to unwind more than any of us."
"Yeah, Gal. Dealing with the captain all the time, you deserve a drink more than anyone."
She frowned.
"He isn't that bad."
She took Shel's mug. Perhaps a few sips would make this easier.
"Well..."
"Ah see! She admits it. She hates the old bastard as much as we do."
Shel stood and went to get a drink to replace the one he'd given away.
"Hate's a strong word, Anne. Awful temper, sure, but he's got his moments."
"Yeah, that's why we haven't seen a whale in months."
"Come on, how's he supposed to know where the whales are?"
"It's his job to point us at 'em, isn't it? What about... was it last month?"
"No, I think it was two months ago."
"Whenever it was! There was afterbirth floating portside and a whale had just been sighted by some sloop passing by. That's a double-haul we just up and blew past!"
"More like a haul-and-a-quarter if it's a mother and her calf. The babes ain't worth much."
"He has a point, Jeb. No good reason to ignore them."
Shel came back with his new drink, shoved his way into the booth.
"If you're losing your edge you might decide to leave mother and babe together. He's getting sentimental in his old age."
"How many more years of sailing does he have, you think?"
The question was pointed at Gali. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"At least three. He's still smart, still good in the captain's chair."
"Pfft! That why he scraped up against the dock earlier? He almost smashed the hull! He needs a helmsman whose mind isn't fogged by age."
"If he'd broken the hull he'd have no right to do anything to us for breaking that wall."
"Maybe that's why we're all out for drinks, eh Gal? 'You lot and I ain't so different' kind of thing?"
"Well..."
"Well?"
Gali took a swig from her mug. Time to rip off the bandage.
"He wants you all off the ship."
No one said anything for a while. The sailors looked at Gali as if they were expecting her to say it was a joke. She looked apologetically back at them. Anne spoke first.
"Well fuck him! I'm not leaving."
"Hell yeah! Where does he get off, thinking he can just fire the lot of us?"
"No way he'll find any sailors worth us here. He'll be working at half-muster, maybe one-above-half if he's lucky."
"He can't catch anything with such a small crew. Shit, he might not even be able to sail out of here without us. What's he thinking?"
"Oh, I'll tell you what he's thinking. 'Gotta keep 'em afraid if you can't make 'em like you.' It's that bullshit excuse he always uses to treat us like dirt! Isn't that right?"
The sailors turned to Gali for confirmation. She said nothing.
"It is, isn't it? What a fucking dick. Gotta keep his image, so that means he has to strand half his crew on some backwater satellite where no one speaks fucking English!"
This was going about as poorly as she thought it would.
"I don't like this any more than you do."
"Oh, sure you don't. At least you get to leave this dump."
"We get marooned for breaking a wall, but the precious first mate never gets any punishment for her mistakes. I bet you're in the captain's b-"
Gali rocketed to her feet and moved to draw her laser pistol. Erik shrunk back into his seat. He was the one who said it, then. You could almost see the words falling back down his throat. Everyone in the bar stopped for a moment. All eyes locked on the woman with a gun. She sat back down slowly. The rest of the place worked its way back to commotion. Their table stayed quiet.
"Are you really going to leave us here?"
Gali sighed. "I don't want to. Most I can think of is to call in some favors, get you tickets to busier ports. If not jobs on other ships."
"A bitter end to this job after so many years."
"Aye."
"Yeah, what's the bosun gonna do without his little errand boy?"
"Shut up."
Jeb began to say something, but Gali was no longer paying attention. The captain was out in the street, looking at the bar. This was about the worst thing he could be doing. If he came in he'd get all their heat at once. Probably would be beaten, dragged to the ship, and maybe keelhauled. In the void, that was a gruesome fate. Not one the old man deserved for making a bad decision. He was looking through the crowd for some reason. Searching for someone? His face flashed with recognition when he noticed her. For a moment he paused. Then he walked away. Thank God he had the sense to leave. But why was he off the ship? He never left Pennyroyal. Snapping fingers in front of her face brought Gali back to the moment.
"Hey, Gal, you with us? What's so important out there?"
She replied without thinking.
"I think I just saw the captain."
"The captain?"
"Off the ship?"
"Where?"
"He's gone now. Walked into the crowd there."
The table went quiet again. What was he doing? Anne spoke first.
"What if we head back to the ship now?"
"What?"
"If he's not there, who's to say what he wanted?"
"You're talking mutiny."
"Why not? If everyone else hears what he wanted to do to us, they'll want to get rid of him too."
"They won't believe us. He's never pulled anything like this before."
"Not just us, no. But if we had someone to vouch for us..."
Everyone looked at Gali.

She'd worked under the captain faithfully for years, but he'd always been a bit of a liability. Never could see solutions outside his way of doing things. And he was so often spaced-out. Not a good thing for someone in charge of the life and death of a whole crew. His command skill had been slowly failing over the past few months. Gali took more and more liberty with interpreting his orders and choosing which to follow. Whether it was just a string of bad luck or real failure of leadership, he probably couldn't keep the crew on his side for another month without results. They would never get a whale in that time without the sailors at this table. These ones wanted to mutiny now. The rest of the crew would want to mutiny later. Later, they'd be in deep space with no place to put the captain but in the void. Now, they could leave the captain in a small town. He could use his stuff to buy passage away. If the old man had wanted the threat of mutiny, he had gotten it and then some.
"Okay. Let's head to the ship."

* * *

The world rocked pleasantly, as it always did after a dozen shots. The people in the bar had kept saying something that sounded like "drowned". Awful, awful luck. Basically a curse. Over and over the captain had tried to stop them, didn't they know? They must have been some of the densest motherfuckers around, because it took him taking out the knife to remind them of their manners. He was gently encouraged out of the bar after that. The barman seemed to take pity on him, the lousy fuck. He was a ship captain! He needed no one's pity. And the goddamn "good luck". "Good luck!" He didn't know a word of English other than that, surely. Another unwitting curse. Curses all around. There was the banana on the tapestry, those damned words, and he was pretty sure the barkeeper would have had red hair if it hadn't been dyed. That's dishonesty, not letting sailors know you're bad luck. No respect for a sailor. No respect for him. The captain had revolutionized whaling, and no one could even find the decency to recognize him! He was important, dammit! He'd be remembered! These towny shitbags had nothing, nothing that would last! Who would know them in 50 years? The same people. The same unlucky, shitty people. This was why he never left Pennyroyal. Damn people were always grating on him. On Pennyroyal his word was law. On Pennyroyal people respected him like he deserved. He was captain! Fuck this place. Fuck talking to the crew. He would just have Gali talk to them. What a good sailor. Loyal, smart, and knows when to stop fucking talking. The deckhands were always talking, always whistling, always ignoring bad omens. Of course there weren't any whales! Three of the crew were flatfooted, and all of them were taunting the void constantly. Whistling to remind it what it can't have. Fighting in their quarters, making holes in the walls that have to be repaired in shitholes like this. His bitter thoughts carried the captain through the streets and into the airlock to the port. He secured his suit in a wobbly fashion, and then jabbed at the button that would open the docks to him. Looking through the glass of the door as it slid open, He did not fully understand what he was seeing.

Pennyroyal was there, out in the shipyard. Away from the dock. Goddamn dockhands must have accidentally pushed her out. But no one was trying to get her back into position. They'd be in steep trouble if she was lost. Losing their jobs would be the least of their worries. She was facing away from the dock too, and not spinning as though she had drifted away. Was she leaving? No, she couldn't do that without her captain. He stumbled out of the airlock towards the ship, bellowing inside his helmet as though anyone could hear his voice.
"Get her back before she goes past the yardshield! Off your asses, you louts! My ship's drifting off!"
He reached the platform Pennyroyal had been resting at when last he left her. On it there was a dockhand standing next to a small crate. He looked at the captian, looked at the departing ship, and pulled a speaker from some hidden compartment of his suit. He said something, but the horn of a nearby freighter coming into port drowned it out. He waited, and spoke again.
"Are you Captain Drake?"
"What? Yeah."
The man rolled his eyes (always so disrespectful here!).
"I can't hear you. Your suit is soundproof."
The captain nodded and pointed at himself. Why was this man so casual about this? That ship was worth ten years of his salary!
"Your things are in this crate. The lady told me to tell you 'This was the better option, sorry'. Said you'd understand."
He didn't understand. The better option? Lady? What was he talking about? The captain stood there dumbfounded, rocking slowly with the motion of the world.
"You okay, man?"
Sudden realization gripped his head like a vise. Gali! That little rat! She'd taken the ship and left him here! How dare she? After all the things he'd done for her over the years, after all the rewards of serving under him! When he got his hands on her he would wring her neck like a fucking rag.
"Hey man, calm down. It's, uh... just a space-ship. You still got your life."
He didn't get it. A man who wasn't a captain would never, could never understand. That was his ship being driven away without him! He'd poured his whole life into her! He was nothing, a shell of a man, without Pennyroyal. He couldn't lose her. She was only going 5 knots out, standard speed for exiting a port. He could catch up if he had a boost.
"Throw me! Throw me at her!"
The man in the other suit pursed his lips and pointed at his helmet.
"I can't hear you. What do you want?"
The captain pointed at the ship with great fervor, but the man just looked at it. He couldn't wait any more! He had to jump after her now, or she'd be gone forever! The captain ran as best he could to the edge of the dock, and jumped off. The last thing he heard clearly from the dockhand by the crate was "Hey! Stop!".

He was gaining on her! Just another moment, and he could scramble along her side for the airlock. They'd be in for hell when he got on that ship. His ship. Taking the knife had been the right decision after all. Those damn mutineers, whichever crewmen they were, would feel the thing going in and out of their guts dozens of times, each. He'd sail her home all alone if he had to. No one would separate him from his ship. He was sure of it. Not in an eon. A loud clang and sudden pain in his side snapped him out of his murderous fury. Now he was spinning. Just barely, he was able to see that an automated crane swinging a payload onto that freighter had knocked into him, sending him way off-course from his intercept with Pennyroyal. Damn those machines! He was now moving at an angle, away from his ship and the port. In brief glimpses over to the dock, he saw dockhands scrambling around, trying to swing their hooks out to him or get closer. They were too far away. He was too far out. No one would be able to stop him. He'd drift off into space, helpless to do anything about it.

The gravity of his situation hit the captain all at once. This was a fate he could not escape. He would die here. He'd run out of air and suffocate out in deep space, where no one would ever find him. It was not the death he had expected. Lost in the stars, a cosmic wanderer of a corpse. He always thought it certain he would die with or on Pennyroyal. Now she was out of his reach, and he would truly die alone. He idly put his hands into his suit's pockets. He felt a handle. What? The knife! The knife. Damn thing must have been the bad luck charm all along. He should never have picked it up after he felt it menacing. But maybe it was a merciful curse. He could die here, at least still within sight of his beloved ship. Even if she was no longer his, he could see her one last time before the end. He looked at her as best he could, and brought the knife down on his suit. It drew a jagged line down his chest. With his dying breath, as his body ballooned with blood, he cursed his treacherous crew.

* * *

Gali stood at the helm, staring into the yardshield only a few meters away. The mutiny had gone over quite well with the rest of the crew. No one seemed very attached to the old captain, and no one cared to even look at his things before they were carted off the ship. The porter was very understanding when Gali told him the situation. Even agreed to tell the old man what had happened. Wonderful guy. Everyone but Gali had agreed she should be the captain going forward. There was a hail on the comms from the dock. That porter again. She ignored it. He had probably been convinced to ask the ship to turn around by the old man. She hoped former captain Drake would see the wisdom in her choice eventually, and hoped that he would go on to live a happy life wherever he ended up. He deserved at least that much.

The intra-ship holograph chirped and spun up. Jeb's likeness appeared, wreathed in blue light. Gali set the ship to keep its current course and strode over. The thing's cameras sent an image of her down to the lower deck.
"Captain, we've got some signals that a slipspace whale is nearby. Are we go to pursue?"
Gali smiled.
"Hell yes."

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