"CHEERS TO THE ARGONAUT II, THE GREATEST SHIP AND GREATEST CREW IN THE LOWER QUADRANT!"
"HUZAAAAAAHHHH!"
Clink-clink! Clink!
(Music: "Mirrors", by Caravan Palace)
Glasses and bottles were tapped together- celebrations had begun; every crew member on the Argonaut II (aside from the poor reserve garrison, who was placed once again on ship overwatch; they would get their celebration tomorrow) was gathered in the massive terrarium, a large entertainment metroplex with aesthetic elements from Terra, nestled comfortably near the back of the military vessel. Danny, Hawkes' second mate, stood at the top of a large terrace, raising his beer over the hundreds of crew members, their own drinks raised in tandem.
As the proclamation of victory was made, everyone downed their glasses, cheering afterward and patting each other on the back, engaging in lively conversations and recounting stories of the recent experience in rescuing the Tulpar crew.
Meanwhile, in the Captain's Suite near the top of the terrarium, Curly and the others were (relatively) enjoying a first-class experience with a window view over the whole terrarium. Waiters and waitresses (members of the crew who were offered bonus pay for doing this job) filed into the room, taking the orders of the crew and tidying up the suite with military-grade efficiency- that was to say, with mediocre effort.
But the crew of Tulpar didn't seem to mind; their thoughts were entirely hinged on finding things to regain their sanity; trying to return to normalcy.
Daisuke and Swansea ogled the menu in their hands, gushing over the wide variety of meals.
"Wow! They even have Dungeness crab legs!" Daisuke exclaimed.
"How the hell did they even preserve that for space travel?" Swansea muttered in confusion. "It better not be rotten."
"Oh, of cooouuurse!" Hawkes remarked dramatically, palming his face theatrically whilst seated on a luxury three-seat couch- still in uniform and sipping a glass of Woodford whiskey casually. "We were planning to have you order so that... we could place expired crab in front of you. This whole thing we got goin' on? A sham. You found me out."
"Alright, lay off the sarcasm, buddy." Swansea groaned. As Daisuke was eyeing the menu, one of the waitresses approached him.
"Have you decided what you'd like to drink?"
"Eh, I'm not sure right n-!... yet."
Daisuke's voice faltered momentarily as he admired the waitress questioning him. A stunning caucasian, young; blonde, with a cute button nose and wholesome smile to bring the sculptured face together. Her body was toned and athletic, which was expected from her role as a military police NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer).
"Wow..." Daisuke muttered with incredulity. Hawkes smirked arrogantly.
Yes, he thought mischievously. Find some young love, Daisuke.
Hawkes had, in fact, set this up intentionally. He'd chosen the most handsome and beautiful crewmates he could find on the ship for this specific job. He wasn't sure which way Daisuke swung (they didn't state sexuality preference in government records), but he wanted to provide ample options in both categories. Sure, the crewmates found it somewhat odd when he questioned them on their sexuality, but it was worth the odd looks and rumors whispered behind his back. He intentionally didn't reveal to them what his plans were.
If Daisuke found interest in one of them, all the better. If not, so be it. But the opportunity would be there. That wasn't to say that Hawkes would ever force one of his subordinates to enter a romance with Daisuke- only that they would be set up to interact with Daisuke as much as humanly possible if he found an interest in them. Surely, to Hawkes, that was minimally harmful.
Curly and Anya clearly had each other- at least, it was hard to tell, because Curly had been coddling Anya while she zoned out to another world since her return. The only thing that bothered Hawkes was the question of whether or not Anya had a romantic relationship with Curly prior to the crash.
Swansea was a married man, and Hawkes wasn't one to encourage infidelity. No, this little display was solely for Daisuke; to find a person he could cherish, who could impart him from his trauma over time. On every one of their faces, he could see the effects of death and revival; unstable eyes, overwhelming emotional swings and surges. Remorse. Guilt. Rage. Shock. Fear. Insanity. Gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude.
He wanted, dearly, to free them of death's stench, and of their past lives. Those weren't lives worth remembering, and he was going to find every possible distraction, purpose and good time he could to assist in their recovery.
It was a new era. He was going to be a new person.
Hawkes remembered when he initially ran this idea by Elise:
"Are you fuckin' psychotic? That is the most creepy and manipulative shit I've ever heard."
"Oh, okay, okay. Alright. But bringing people back from the dead is no issue to you, huh?"
"The two aren't even remotely comparable."
"Shut up, froggie."
Smack!
Naturally, just to spite her, he went ahead with the plan anyways.
"Sir?"
"O-Oh, uh!" Daisuke stumbled, as the drop-dead gorgeous blonde asked him again. "I-I uh, I need some time to, to think on it, if that's cool?"
"Sure!" She said with a smile. "Let me know when you're ready."
"U-Um!" Daisuke spoke up, and she turned around in response.
"Yes?"
"I-I was... was wondering..."
Yes, Captain Hawkes thought eagerly. Go on!
"I was wondering if... if..."
YES, Captain Hawkes thought with euphoric expectation. ASK HER OUT! SHE'S ONLY FOUR YEARS OLDER THAN YOU! THAT'S AN ACCEPTABLE AGE GAP!
"If... the Dungeness crab legs came with a dipping option?"
SMACK! "OWWWAH!"
Daisuke's head reeled back after Hawkes took the round ice cube out of his whiskey glass and chucked it at his head. Swansea looked over at Hawkes with a raised eyebrow, then shortly resumed his menu perusing.
"Been a minute since I had wine. Maybe I'll try out this one." Swansea muttered, a giddy smile riding across his face.
"What was that?!" Daisuke whined, looking accusingly at Hawkes.
"A lesson to learn from, hopefully."
"Heheheh!"
Daisuke and Hawkes both turned their heads in surprise as the blonde waitress giggled raucously. Daisuke's face lit up, and Hawkes smiled seeing him get so excited.
"W-What's your name, if I can ask? I'm Daisuke!"
The blonde waitress smiled at him, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.
"I'm Annalise. You can call me Anna if you want."
"I don't mind Annalise!"
Annalise seemed surprised by his forwardness, but gave him a wholesome and genuine smile. From Daisuke's facial expression, Hawkes could tell he was absolutely melting inside right now.
"Alright then, Daisuke. I'll be nearby if you need anything."
Daisuke nodded emphatically as she walked off, admiring her as long as he could.
Mission Accomplished, Captain Hawkes thought in pure jubilance. Who's creepy and manipulative now, Elise? Stupid Frenchie! Still, I'm not sure if she likes him back. I should let it progress naturally. I can do that... by assigning her to the patrol routes next to his bedroom! GENIUS!
"Hey, Hawkes." Swansea asked, pointing at the menu. "I was thinking of getting the Cabernet Sauvignon but it looks pricey. You think I should go with the Pinot Noir instead?"
Captain Hawkes stared at the menu for a minute, then at Swansea, then back at the menu, then back at Swansea.
"..."
Swansea furrowed his eyebrows as Hawkes remained silent.
"Did you lose your tongue when I wasn't looking?"
"Swansea, this is already bought and paid for by the government. I am the government."
"O-Oh... Oh, right. Shit, yeah, sorry, I, uh... I wasn't thinking, heh."
Swansea's answer was very un-Swansea-like. Hawkes studied his body language, noticed he was staring into the void, and concluded that he was feeling out of place and revisiting trauma. He was seemingly reverting to his previous outlook of life to cope with the new. These symptoms from the resurrection were fascinating, yet worrying. The last thing Hawkes wanted was long-term or permanent side-effects or mental issues for his people; it's why he spent so much time and energy trying to figure out how to get them adjusted to the world again. It just happened to be the unfortunate reality that no matter how comfortable things were made for them, the haunting trauma of their past lives was still looming over them all the time, and it would inevitably take a while before they could even act and function normally.
"What, you think I want the 3 dollars in your wallet to pay for all this?" Hawkes jokingly said, trying to take Swansea's mind off the past. Swansea snapped out of his trance and snickered.
"Don't underestimate me, bud. There's an extra dollar in there for tipping."
Hawkes laughed out loud; Swansea's humor was right up his alley. Swansea even seemed proud to have made Hawkes laugh, and rubbed the back of his head while chuckling. A small epiphany suddenly hit Hawkes as he looked around the suite, studying each of the crew's behaviors and actions.
Despite decades of harrowing escapes, life-threatening encounters, stressful decisions and unavoidable atrocities, he'd found himself completely tolerant and comfortable with de facto babysitting these four. Why? It felt like that connection he'd thought about in the Divinity Chamber. Playing a hand in their revival, being in a position to spoil them rotten, and knowing the kind of horrible ordeals they suffered.
He wanted to see them recover, and thrive. He was infinitely curious to see how those given a second life would treat the world, and every second around these four was fascinating. But more than that, he desired to be by their side. He felt an active need to provide a path for their revitalization. He was obligated.
He'd spent a whole year trying to track them down and rescue them. He witnessed the horrorshow they were forced to live through for eight months. He had played out the story in his head multiple times, trying to fit the pieces together while he waited for the recorded footage to finish downloading.
He was utterly invested in these four. He wasn't sure what to call them, as a group. He supposed it didn't matter much.
"Alright, well, keep perusing and let one of the waiters know when you're ready." Hawkes stated, getting up from the couch to go visit Curly and Anya across the room, who were sitting on another lounge couch closer to the window. Anya was absentmindedly gazing out the window, still possessing that thousand-yard stare. Meanwhile, Curly was bringing the menu in front of her and going down the list, his eyes quivering as if he was barely holding it together.
That didn't look healthy. Hawkes casually made his way over to sit on the couch with them.
"Look, Anya! They got cheesecake, your favorite! I forgot what kind of flavor you like, but I'm sure we can order multiple and you can try each one out!"
Anya's eyes wandered from the window to Curly, as if she were drugged. Curly gently laid his hands on her cheeks and peered desperately into her eyes.
"Anya, you there? You okay? You know we're safe now, right? We're doing okay. Just look at me, okay?"
Hawkes was discomforted and depressed, seeing Curly try and comfort Anya. He himself wasn't sure why she was still in this state; it'd been over an hour and she seemed no better than after first being revived. What could he do to get her grounded to reality?
"Curly." Hawkes whispered. Curly turned from Anya with a look of sheer annoyance and indignance, then suddenly noticed it was Hawkes and lessened his expression.
"Hey."
"Hey. You want some help getting her centered?"
Curly gulped, looking between Anya and him, then eventually nodded fervently.
"It's killing me, seeing her like this." Curly muttered hoarsely. "I just want her to enjoy herself. I just want..."
"I getcha, I getcha." Hawkes said assuredly, leaning over to try and get Anya's attention. "Hey, Anya?"
Anya's eyes drifted from the menu to Hawkes' face, with no discernible change in those shell-shocked eyes of hers.
"Hey, nice to meet ya, Anya. I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. I'm Hawkes, captain of this ship. Just letting you know, you can do whatever you want, mmk? Eat, drink, sleep, fuck-"
Curly's cheeks reddened in embarrassment and irritation at the last word.
"-basically, just enjoy yourself, Anya. Chat with Curly! He didn't get his body fully Reformed for nothing."
Anya's disposition didn't change in the slightest. She seemed unable to speak or hear anything, and just nodded absentmindedly in response to his sentences. Hawkes sighed.
"Why hasn't this... this effect worn off yet?" Curly demanded of Hawkes, who simply shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
"I'm not a psychiatrist, but I suspect that there were some really strong emotions at play before she died. I'd say, even, that dying from an overdose and coming back to life is likely something that would trigger this kind of reaction. Whereas everyone else died a physical death, she was in a, dare I say, fucked-up mental state because of the painkillers. So it might be difficult for her to separate her past memories from the current, or it could be a dozen other reasons."
Curly gazed back over at Anya, who returned the stare.
"...Curly?"
Curly gasped in shock as she said her first word since the Divinity Chamber.
"Y-Yes, Anya! Yes, it's me!"
Anya stared at him again, as if trying to overcome the fog in her mind to remember him.
"Curly... Curly..."
"Yes! Yes, Anya. I'm right here for you. I'm right here."
Curly gently grabbed Anya's shoulders and laid her head down on his lap, quietly caressing and comforting her. She began to break down crying as she laid her head in his lap, bringing her hands up to wipe her tears.
"Curly...? Curly...? How...? You're... okay? How...? How... did you... How?"
"They fixed me, Anya. By God, they fixed me. You don't know how amazing it feels, to have my body back. I want to tell you every single wondrous feeling I've had for the last few hours. I want to hear your voice. I want to see your lips move. I want to see that lively girl I first met years ago."
Anya shuddered violently, her eyes unfocused and filled with fear.
"Is this real? Are we still trapped in hell? Are we still there?"
"No. No, we're not. Anya, don't think on the past. You're here, you're fine, and I'm here. I'm fine."
Hawkes looked on in sympathy at Curly and Anya. He had scheduled the whole crew to have the entire day off, partially to get the Tulpar crew used to socializing and being around other people again. He often found that people suffering from past trauma could better adjust to normalcy if they weren't around others or items that triggered thoughts of the past.
And right now, the room had four human triggers constantly glancing at each other.
"Alright, enough of this!" Hawkes declared, finding the nearest table and dragging it into the middle of the suite. He swaggered over to the bar counter, went around it and swiped a bottle of Vodka from the display shelf. He reached under the counter and took five shot glasses with him. Then, he swaggered on back over to the table, uncorked the vodka, laid out the glasses and poured with pinpoint accuracy.
"Come on, you lousy fucks! Gather round the table and let's take a shot! Barkeep, change the song!"
The barkeep, who was Roble, nodded and tuned the overhead speakers to a different song.
(Music: "About You", by Caravan Palace)
Hawkes bopped his head forward emphatically, with a shit-eating grin sat comfortably on his face.
"That's more like it!"
"Oh, it's the same band." Roble muttered aloud. "Let me find another-"
Instantaneously, Hawkes had appeared in front of Roble, who jumped back in shock and yelped. It was moments like this that Hawkes' staggering 7-foot demeanor became terrifying in an instant.
"Jesus!"
"Don't change the song. Caravan Palace is my shit."
"Yeah, but it's ancient. Why do you like oldie songs so much?"
"Because the garbage they produce nowadays is garbage."
"They'd probably said that back then about oldie songs."
"And they'd have been wrong. Pour a glass of Cab for Swansea, if you please. Then get off bar duty and start talkin' to him and Daisuke. They need to talk to other people. Also, get Jeremiah up here and let him indulge."
Roble nodded, then processed the last sentence and returned his eyes to Hawkes as he moved back to the table, where Swansea and Daisuke were gathered. Roble half-smiled in admiration.
"This guy..." He muttered.
"Alriiiight," Hawkes announced, approaching the round table once more and grabbing his shot glass. "Let's get to- ugh."
Hawkes noted only Daisuke and Swansea had deigned to stand at the table; Curly was still consoling Anya on the couch.
"Curly, Anya! Get yer asses over here, we're taking shots!"
Curly glared at him, but started gently moving Anya's head off his lap.
"I don't think Anya should be drinking right n-."
Curly suddenly fell back on the couch as Anya propelled herself off of him to stand up on quivering legs, dragging herself like a zombie over to the table and seizing a shot glass as if it were a lifebuoy amid a raging storm at sea. Despite her success in not spilling the glass, the force at which she slammed against the table sent the other unfortunate shot glasses careening onto the floor, shattering into several pieces.
Swansea, Daisuke, and Curly were utterly shocked, while Hawkes wore a shit-eating grin watching the whole event. He couldn't help but be utterly entertained; his mind was breaking down the behaviors and actions of these four every single second. He admired the human psychology more than most other things in the universe; the complex emotions that formed as a result of causes and effects, being able to trace the path of someone's thinking that resulted in the actions they took.
It was fascinating. Why did Anya, who was characteristically 'meek' suddenly taking brash and bold actions? Was this going to be a personality shift after death changed her? Or was it a temporary or sporadic change that would die out over time to the old personality?
Intriguing. Utterly intriguing. He was also unbothered by the spillage because he had retained his shot glass in his hand the whole time. This was the type of 2-steps-ahead thinking that made him Captain, obviously.
Hawkes pointed at Roble as Curly awkwardly joined the round table next to a fatigued-looking Anya, eyeing her with concern.
"Roble, it seems we had a minor inconvenience, please supply us with 3 more shot glasses."
Roble nodded emphatically, reaching behind the counter to resupply. Swansea snapped out of the shock and looked around the suite, noticing that the other employees had completely ignored the incident and continued their jobs, one of them even moving around the table to clean up the shattered glass without a hint of a gaze or glance.
"They're like drones." Swansea muttered, and Hawkes nodded, eyeing his employees to see if any of them would dare return the stare.
"They were told to ignore any 'mishaps' that might occur," Hawkes explained. "I had expected more bad blood and violence, so I didn't want you to feel ostracized by your surroundings if any of you needed to vent some frustrations. I'm shocked, though; you guys are a pretty solid group!"
Curly, Swansea, Daisuke and even Anya turned their heads to gaze at Hawkes; first uncomprehending, then gratitude and admiration arose in their eyes.
"You're a really nice dude." Daisuke commented. Swansea, ever the pessimist, had his own remarks.
"Seems a bit controlling."
Hawkes nodded in understanding.
"It can seem that way, since you just got here. But believe me when I say, the path of respect and duty travels both ways. The only reason I have this suite right now is because they built it out of my sight without my request for 2 months."
Swansea looked absolutely skeptical at the last statement, and Hawkes chuckled.
"I bet it sounds unrealistic. But it's the culmination of thirty years of experience. I do not brag, nor do I wish to. But I will be direct and honest with you."
He waved a hand across the terrarium, the suite, and practically everything else in sight as he spoke.
"All of this did not exist when I was first commissioned for this ship. It was a piece of shit that could barely travel 50 AUs without breaking down. Minus the room extensions to the vessel and its weaponry, everything onboard this ship has been constructed, maintained and repaired by its crew. Its supplies, the hierarchy, the chain of command, the social integrity and comfortability, the individual needs and passions of each crewmate; all of it was cultivated and maintained by the crew that have come and left service on this ship."
"But they couldn't have done that without a Captain who leads them well." Swansea remarked, his eyes narrowing at Curly; an intentional jab at him. Curly glared in return, but eventually averted his gaze in utter shame. Hawkes noted the obvious interaction and frowned.
"As I said. The relationship goes both ways. A crew needs to be aware of their captain in every regard. They should not be afraid to question bad orders or point out flaws in plans or directives. A Captain cannot run a ship by himself, he requires a crew that will listen to him in dire situations and who will go against him when they feel it is in the greater interest of the ship and its crew."
As he finished the dissertation, Hawkes glanced around at everyone's faces, measuring their mood. He was most relieved to see Anya's eyes gaining a bit of their lustre back, and she was beginning to engage in occasional small talk with Curly, who was himself shrouded in a deep depression and clawing desperation which Hawkes couldn't explain. Swansea was just as immersed in conversation with Daisuke, who seemed the most giddy and jubilant out of the four.
Hawkes admired the four of them. Standing here now, he realized just how surreal it was. He was about to take a shot with four formerly dead people.
What a world he was living in. He raised his glass in the air.
"The Argonaut II was successful in its mission. We retrieved the crew of the Tulpar, brought them back to life, and are now heading home to your families!"
Everyone at the table perked up at his last sentence, with Swansea practically sputtering in response.
"O-Oh my God, I didn't even think about- how's my family?"
"They're just fine, Swansea, just a little stress and terror at the thought of you dead, but they won't have to worry about that now! Anyways, we can contact your family tomorr-"
"NO! I need to see them now! I can't just-"
"Swansea." Hawkes said more harshly, bringing one hand up to gesture at him. "You just came back to life. It hasn't even been a day. We already sent a message to each of your families informing them that you were alive and well. I even told them you'd be calling tomorrow to spill your guts out about the whole thing. So just... enjoy. Today."
Swansea seemed as if he were about to protest, but relented with grumbles. Hawkes wasn't sure at this point if he was a master negotiator or an insidious manipulator, but he was glad to smooth over that point. He raised his glass once more.
"To new friends and better journeys!"
"To new friends and better journeys!"
Only Swansea and Daisuke were boisterous in their declarations. Curly half-heartedly contributed, and Anya just examined her shot glass with dead eyes. Hawkes sighed.
"Bottoms up."
Everyone took a shot, except for Anya and Hawkes. She shivered as she peered at the drink, reliving terrible memories of the past. Curly knew exactly what she was recalling, and his rage nearly boiled over into blind fury. He needed to find that motherfucker and kill him.
"Anya."
Anya responded to Hawkes with an empty look. She was disrupted from her senselessness as Hawkes waggled his shot glass in her face.
"Watch."
He slowly brought it back to his mouth and tipped it into his mouth. He swallowed, let out an exhale, and feigned an expression of disgust.
"Holy hell, I still hate Vodka." He muttered, just loud enough for Anya to hear. Her eyes seemed to clear up somewhat, and she looked down at her shot glass with hesitation. She took a short breath, and brought it up to her mouth.
The stench of hard vodka. It was somehow far more calming to her than a sweet, tangy smell would have been.
She downed the shot.
"Eugh!" She exclaimed. The suite filled with the laughter of Hawkes, Daisuke, Swansea and Curly- one of deep relief and affection.
"I wasn't joking about it!" Hawkes teased Anya, smiling in a most friendly manner. Curly gazed at Hawkes, watching him interact with his former crew. It was somehow infuriating, yet deeply admirable at the same time. This Captain was a natural in so many things. Socializing, command ability, leadership, no doubt combat- and all Curly could feel was envy, regret, resentment, and guilt.
Why did he think he was deserving to be around these three ever again? He'd ruined their lives completely. If this bizarre second life hadn't been given to them miraculously, their last thoughts, emotions and experiences would have been stuck inside that derelict hellscape. His own blindness, naivete and complacency led to that outcome.
Even as Anya stood right beside him, all he could see was the memory of blood leaking down her face, bulging eyes, and paled skin. Right in front of him. She'd come to Curly for help when Jimmy violated her- and instead, he tried to reason with that piece of shit.
No more. He was beyond foolish to believe there was good in everyone, that he, Curly, could help them improve above their station. His blind faith in his former friend led to the deaths of his entire crew.
Never. Again.
Hawkes went over to the bar and poured himself another shot, then brought the bottle over and refilled the empty glasses of the crew. He quietly noted the expression of bottomless fury erupting on Curly's face. Hawkes had an inkling of what Curly was thinking. A good captain betrayed by his best friend, cursing his naivete with every breath. As much as Hawkes detested the fact that Curly overlooked Anya's rape for his best friend, he was intelligent enough to know that a person was a summation of many things, not just one experience.
What he did was impossibly stupid, morally egregious, and deeply disappointing considering his record. But he wasn't the one who orchestrated the crash, nor the one who committed the rape, nor the one whose terror and actions led to the death of the crew.
The criminal was already found. But the penitence would be done by the victims. This criminal did not deserve redemption; if any inkling of that were to be found, it would be after a long journey of suffering, misery, self-reflection and punishment.
He raised his glass once more; to him, a proclamation of intent.
"We're partying it up ALL NIGHT!"
Danny (2nd Mate) and Jeremiah leaned against the railing of the overhang open lounge. Jeremiah had to admire the architectural and engineering capabilities that were needed for such a design. He'd been on his fair share of spaceships, but none of them were even close to the magnitude of quality that this vessel embodied.
"Look at 'em up there." Danny remarked ruefully, pointing at the Captain's Suite while chugging the champagne in his glass. "Gettin' chummy, enjoying the finest liquor and food, partying with the Captain-"
"You're not..." Jeremiah interrupted. "...You're not seriously implying that... the people who caught the worst cabin fever in recent history are sleazing the Captain, right?"
Danny craned his head inquisitively towards Jeremiah.
"You're awfully mouthy for a first-year, huh?"
Jeremiah started sweating nervously. The Captain's beating was already more than enough for the day, he didn't want to add the beating by the 2nd Mate to his record as well. Danny noticed Jeremiah quaking in fear and laughed uproariously, lightly slapping Jeremiah's back.
"Relax, Jeremy. Despite what it may look like, we aren't actively spending our time getting into brawls and beating on subordinates."
Are you sure about that? Jeremiah thought skeptically.
"In any society, on any vessel, you get to know the social norms of your environment," Danny said, turning back to look up at the Captain's Suite. "Adaptability. Not just physical changes, but social changes. Living planet-side is a lot different than living on a space vessel. Where society is spread out and numerous on planets, your society on this ship is 500-something odd people. All of us, interacting frequently, means we exchange certain behaviors, quirks, and ideas."
Danny gazed around the crowd, scanning faces and observing conversations.
"But being on a ship is a double-edged sword. While we become more bonded, we also take trauma far worse. Mental breakdowns, bad interactions, animosity- each interaction cascades across every crewmate. When you have to interact with someone as frequently as you do on a vessel, every socialization is amplified."
He turned to face Jeremiah directly, and his eyes were charged with unwavering grit.
"That's why you can't afford to have miscreants and evildoers on the ship. You have to weed them out as soon as possible. Mistakes and bad blood can be forgiven and renewed, but an individual with a bad mindset and worse intentions is the scourge of any and every vessel that suffers them."
"How can one person do so much damage on vessels that have hundreds of people?" Jeremiah asked.
"It's self-evident. Ships were designed to be for a purpose, to be operated by people trying to achieve that purpose. Most ships were not designed to prevent self-sabotage, they only rely on a structured hierarchy, protocols, and social norms to enforce order and harmony onboard. Here's a number of ways you can kill everyone on board as one person: Damage the gas lines, fuck up the oxygen generator, start a big fire and suffocate everyone, steer the ship into an asteroid, sabotage the engines and strand the crew. You get the point."
"Fucking hell," Jeremiah muttered, now terrified of being onboard the vessel after hearing the different ways it could be sabotaged. "How does anyone manage that kind of stress when they're responsible for the whole ship?"
"By being tough, brutal, and acutely aware." Danny stated. Jeremiah looked up at the Captain's suite.
"The Captain did beat me up... but he seems like a really nice guy overall. Look how far he's going to help these innocent people."
Danny snickered.
"His personality changed completely in the last two months, and you didn't see him for the last ten months because he stayed exclusively in the bridge like a recluse. That resurrection shit flipped his philosophy on its head, and now he's acting like a completely different person half the time. Hey..."
He turned his head.
"Which planet do you hail from?"
Jeremiah seemed to hesitate to answer; he knew the response to this every time.
"Noria."
"Well, you know what I was going to say about that."
Jeremiah sighed and Danny grinned.
"I know."
"If you know, then why are you acting shocked about a simple beat-down? Have you ever been off-planet before this vessel? Nevermind, I know the answer. And I assume you know what I'm gonna say next."
Jeremiah nodded in resignation.
"Well, I'm gonna say it anyway." Danny lectured him. "The vast majority of planets are not Noria. They do not have luxury resources available to the common people. They do not always have cutting-edge technology. They do not have sound government structures and efficient agencies. They do not have social harmony and progressive policies. Most planets are hellholes. Most ships have hellish conditions, or hellish superiors, or hellish crewmates or hellish expectations. You lucked out getting on this ship."
Jeremiah nodded reluctantly, conceding the point.
"Anyways, I'm done lecturing you."
"I do have one question," Jeremiah asked him. "What was the Captain like before the Day of Rapture?"
Danny eyed him suspiciously, wondering whether or not divulge the information. It was common knowledge among the older and senior crewmates, but amongst the new and young, it was withheld intentionally. Regaling stories about the Captain's past was a detriment to morale, in this case. However, Danny decided to make an exception for Jeremiah; he didn't peg him as the type to openly go around and spew these stories to others.
"You will keep this to yourself, and only yourself," Danny ordered him. Jeremiah nodded plentifully. Danny hesitated one more time, before speaking in a low tone.
"Arrogant. Brutally efficient. Cold and calculating. Nihilistic. Careless with his own life, but not others. Abrasive in conversation. Spiteful. He was the poster child for merciless military captains, and he acted like one too."
"When we were on pirate-hunting missions, it was military tradition to collect small trophies from the bodies, along with the photographs, as a sign of the accomplishment. Hawkes took this to another level. Every chance he had, he chopped up their bodies into segmented pieces, then would run a cord through the middle of each limb and string them together loosely to resemble a segmented human body. He'd take the vile creations and tie them to the outside of the ship, where the bodies would freeze over and stick to the ship's outer hull. Every time we ran into pirates, the first thing they saw on the front of our ship was the strung-up, mutilated bodies of other pirates."
By the end of that sentence, Jeremiah was utterly horrified, yet infinitely curious to hear more. His perception had undoubtedly changed of the captain, but the recounting by Danny was morbidly fascinating.
"What else?" Jeremiah asked eagerly, and Danny curved his upper lip in discomfort, yet continued.
"Well... he used to track his kill count by making notches on his arms, legs, chest and face. After the Day of Rapture, though, he immediately went to Faulkner to have the notches removed."
The two of them fell silent for a moment.
"...Anything else?" Jeremiah asked tentatively. Danny huffed in slight irritation.
"You seem awfully entertained by this." He accused him, and Jeremiah raised his palms up as a sign of deflection.
"Is getting to know more about the Captain a crime?" He asked sarcastically. Danny sighed.
"Fine. I'll give you one detailed enough that it'll sate your endless curiosity. The Captain, without exception, tortured every confirmed mutineer, pirate and human trafficker he captured. It only began after he coaxed the information out of them with his silver tongue. It was purely for his own pleasure."
"I remember the first time I was present for one of his 'interrogations', done well after the information was attained and confirmed. The man in his custody was a mutineer who'd killed a woman and violated her corpse, started a fire in the engine room to distract from the discovery, and stranded the ship. The mutineer then incited a riot against the captain and got him killed, then appointed himself captain and sent out a distress signal. We found the ship two months later, and when Hawkes found out the captain was killed, he confined the mutineer and did his investigation. Found the woman, found the fingerprints & DNA on the damaged engine, interrogated the other surviving crewmates, and salvaged camera footage that showed the mutineer sabotaging the engine and inciting the riot."
Danny shuddered slightly as he recalled the next part of the story.
"Hawkes dragged him into that room and wasted no time. He used pliers to tear his teeth out, then stabbed them back into his gums and had Faulkner reconnect the ligaments, only to tear them out again. He castrated his balls, cauterized them back on, then repeated. He would poke his eyes out, watch him fumble around, then randomly and occasionally slam his baton against one of the mutineer's limbs; he kept doing this until the bones were broken, then he would mend them back together, only to repeat the process."
"When the mutineer begged him to stop, he had him strapped to an operating table and meticulously cut his fingers into thin slices, working his way up to the palm and then up the arm, all the way to the shoulder. Then he would Reform the entire arm and start with the other side. When he grew bored of that, Hawkes suspended him, face up, over an open furnace, watching as the mutineer was slowly roasted alive. When it neared the point of unconsciousness and death, Hawkes took him down, sprawled him over the floor, waited until the mutineer stopped screaming, then had buckets of salt and vinegar poured over his back."
"Then we finally got to our home planet. Hawkes had the mutineer fully restored, and brought him to the courts for adjudication and trial. By the time he'd gotten to court, the mutineer was mentally broken, unable to speak a word out loud. He was convicted and executed a month later."
Jeremiah's expression was utterly despondent. What he had just heard was an absolute horror story. He looked back up towards the Captain's Suite, seeing faintly a look of pleasure and contentment on Hawkes' face.
"And this... this only happened to the worst people, right?" Jeremiah uttered, almost in terror. Danny exhaled from his nose in amusement, nodding.
"Obviously. I wouldn't serve under a Captain who is cruel to the innocent and his subordinates."
"But you'll serve a Captain who takes pleasure from torturing criminals?"
Danny shrugged, which worried Jeremiah even more.
"I'll be frank. What I've seen him do has terrified me, completely. His creativity and charisma scare me more than anything, because he's extremely intelligent and cunning. He catches things nobody else is even giving thought to. His ability to sniff out what a person is thinking is unparalled among anyone else on this ship. I'm only grateful that he has a moral code for who he distinguishes between innocent and evil, and it happens to line up with most of humanity. The only downside is that he has an endless hatred and cruelty of those he sees as 'evil'. And that is, in of itself, borderline evil to me. At the end of the day, he's stooping to the level of his captives and the only differentiation is who receives the cruelty."
"But," Jeremiah interjected. "I don't necessarily see it as 'wrong' if he's confirmed that his captives are evil. They did awful things, they should suffer."
Danny shook his head, personally disagreeing with the argument.
"It is not the retribution that is morally wrong. It is the torture, to me. The way he took pleasure in hearing their screams, seeing them writhe around, watching them suffer in complete agony... I'm telling you, there's something fucked up about it that just isn't right."
"I don't understand your argument," Jeremiah confessed. "The people he's torturing have caused the suffering, misery and deaths of others. That torture is justified. They aren't deserving of quick and painless deaths, nor does the justice system do the real punishment. Putting them in prison is justice, but to me it is not retribution. Retribution is paying back the suffering those people caused a hundredfold. Retribution is hurting them so badly that they reflect on their actions and feel remorse and guilt. I would much rather they suffer greatly and reflect on their actions, than go to prison and adjust to normalcy behind bars."
Danny huffed in satisfaction, impressed with Jeremiah's intellect and diction.
"Well, let's just agree to disagree, then." Danny said.
"Still," Jeremiah conceded. "I can imagine it's not easy working for a captain who you know takes pleasure in torture."
Danny swilled the drink in his hand, peering at the half-full contents.
"It's far more preferable to my previous bosses."
Jeremiah was somewhat alarmed to hear that.
"You had bosses who were worse than a serial torturer?"
Danny chuckled before speaking again.
"Before Captain Hawkes, I worked for a guy named Gerry, on the Hemshaw freighter. He would throw his weight around constantly, giving ridiculous orders to his crew, flirting with the female crewmates during evaluations, threatening guys with termination if they didn't pay kickbacks from their checks to him. He was gutter trash that saw his crew as tools to advance his own success and pleasures."
"Before him, I worked for a woman named Hendra on a giant commercial freighter. She would backstab her own co-workers constantly, snitch on them to upper management, scheme against her superiors to claim their place, and verbally abused her subordinates constantly. A dishonest weasel of a human being."
"And before her, I worked for a young guy, Geriah, on an asteroid mining vessel. He was nice, but was the worst decision-maker I'd ever seen. He constantly made calls that nearly killed crewmates, failed to learn from his losses, didn't take advice from his second and third mate, and delegated tasks to people who weren't suited to the job. He ended up getting us pinned between two asteroids because he didn't listen to his navigator about potential collision courses and wanted to take the shortest route through. We nearly died of starvation when our distress signal reached a military cruiser who rescued us. He was pathetic, bullish and incompetent without any redeeming leadership qualities."
Danny took a breath before continuing.
"These people may seem like lukewarm puddle water compared to Hawkes. The difference is, Hawkes cares for his crew. He treats us like his family. He is observant about our successes and mistakes in equal measure, and does nothing except help us however he can. He was like that before the Day of Rapture, for all the years I can recount being with him. He took care of us, and for that we repaid him however we could. And I will take a Captain who loves us over those other pithy sacks of waste every damn day of the week."
Silence fell between Danny and Jeremiah as the latter processed the information he just took in.
"Wow," Jeremiah muttered. "It sounds like every other spaceship is just full of assholes."
Danny laughed in response, taking a long swig from his glass.
"Sure seems like it. In reality, it's just a gamble with whatever ship you're on. Our lives outside of the Argonaut are pretty dystopian- that is, if you don't come from a luxury world." He teased Jeremiah, who grinned in embarrassment and humility.
"Alright, you made your point." Jeremiah replied, taking several drinks from his beer. "Still, I didn't realize the Captain had such a... history. You weren't kidding about the personality switch, if what you say is true."
Danny sighed, a mixture of relief and concern.
"Yeah... I do like this Hawkes much better than the one 2 months ago, I'll admit. But it also worries me. He's smart, and well-aware of his past. So him turning into a near-saint trying to help these people seems more like a coping mechanism to handle this new reality. Hell, I'm worried, too. I did a lot of bad shit, no matter the reasons, and I'm afraid of how I'll be judged when I die. Now that everyone knows there's a higher power, it's hitting us all differently. Most of the crew has lightened up a ton in the last two months, so clearly most people have a favorable outlook of the afterlife and their judgement."
Danny eyed the distant Captain once more.
"But the Captain... his actions far outweigh all of the crew combined. He was an efficient commander for thirty years, and that means the amount of bodies he's stacked could rival a small country. And he's aware of that. So yeah... I think this is him trying to desperately change his image, and to repent for what he's done."
Jeremiah nodded slowly, leaning against the railing alongside Danny. The two of them shared a view of the Captain as he moved about the suite, animated and charismatic by body language alone.
"Hey," Jeremiah asked randomly. "Why is the Captain so freakishly tall? I've never seen someone with his perfect body proportions at that height. All the ones I've seen in photographs and videos are usually thin, save for a few exceptions of humans throughout history."
Danny waved his hand dismissively.
"Around five years ago, he got body augmentations from a group of insanely high-end surgeons after he rescued them from a burning medical vessel. Naturally, he didn't give the details, but the result was self-evident."
"Woah. How tall was he before?"
"5 foot 6 inches."
Jeremiah didn't dare laugh, or it would be his head. Danny peered over and grinned wryly.
"Smart man. As for why, he had made it clear in private talks that he absolutely detested being towered over by enemies and rivals during parleys and negotiations. It drove him mad, to the point that after negotiations were finished, he would head to the bridge and bite his arms in fury until they bled."
Jeremiah was disturbed.
"I wouldn't be remiss in saying that seems... insecure?" Jeremiah spoke as tentatively as possible.
"No, you would not be remiss. But that's a flaw I can get behind. A much more tolerable flaw than narcissism, powertripping, untrustworthiness, incompetence and so on."
Jeremiah nodded, this time feeling more resolved than before. There was something intrinsic about learning the history of a person or place that made one feel more connected to it.
"Alright, enough chattering on about the past," Danny stated firmly, pointing at Jeremiah. "Let's find some liquor and play some beer pong."
"You play beer pong with liquor?!" Jeremiah exclaimed in abject horror. Danny sneered.
"Man the fuck up, Jeremy."
