2002-05-30

alonewiththemoon: Drumlin Farm Banding Station 2016 (Default)
2002-05-30 12:04 pm

(no subject)

The last night here on the water. I’m sitting up in the crow’s nest, taking a moment alone to collect my thoughts and strengthen my resolve. The calling makes it easier; I now feel almost physical pain whenever I think about abandoning my plan. I am somewhat ashamed to say that it outweighs the emotional pain of knowing what I am about to do to my crew, my friends.

The crew is happy tonight. We came across a school of unmodified bluefin two days ago. Real fish (as opposed to the synthetic Real Fish ™ grown in vats, or the genetically engineered cod that make up the bulk of our catch) is considered a gourmet item, especially on Lunar Prime where it helps the locals feel more connected with Earth. Personally I don’t taste much difference between modded and unmodded fish, and I’m a bit put off by the parasites in our bluefin, but I’m not the one who will be paying top dollar for it. Or would be, if the bluefin were intended to reach Lunar Prime. First Mate Melville, who was destined to work in this industry with a name like Melville, had the foresight back at the beginning of unmodded season to purchase a license for the Ehrengard, so we filled our hold with our limit. The crew is in a celebratory mood, and I will not need to coax them to drink tonight, not even the usually abstemious Nasr.

I swing myself over the crow’s nest rail and hang by my arms for a moment. When the ship sways on the waves, I can see only the evening ocean under my feet and the darkening sky above my head. The unknowable deeps and the never-ending horizon, and me in the middle. If I let go, which way would I fall?

The ship sways back again and the deck appears below my feet. I let my rubber boots thud back against the mast, find the ladder with my heels and climb down.