Companionship - beyond flesh

Painted ship

"It makes sense now."

"Huh?" Denver sat leaning against the wall beside Ven Verde; he turned his head and rasped, "What makes sense?"

"The painted ship upon the painted ocean. The old Churchman on our platform when I was a kid, he used to gather us up and tell stories from his holy book, the Tale of the Undead Sailor. We Rastas would tease the jelly out of him, but when he read he story, we'd sit mesmerised. Mama would say the old Churchman was work'n 'da root when we was under his spell."

"The Tale of the Undead Sailor, yes I know it." related the auger, "Another of the Church's hidden testaments. This one I believe resurrected from the work of a poet of an early pre-stellar age. Coleridge published it originally as The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner."

"I didn't know that." Admitted Ven. She cast her mind back to distant memories that, while over one-hundred years earlier, to her seemed like they had happened just yesterday. "There was this one part--" she sat up excited about the unexpected recollections and recited a verse; her accent naturally enhancing the rhythm and rhyme,

   "Day after day, day after day, 

    We stuck, nor breath nor motion; 

    As idle as a painted ship 

    Upon a painted ocean."

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Denver mouthed the words, moving his hands in the air to mirror the meter of the verse. "And I can see how it relates to our predicament. Stuck on a ship floating in space at the mercy of the celestial elements."

"Well, one element anyway." Agreed Ven, "This orr that we all coveted so badly. How many days has it been now?"

"Twenty-seven since she left us floating. Forty-five since we entered the system."

"And in the story, how many days was the sailor upon the dead sea?"

"I don't think Coleridge gave us a timeline, but it would have been weeks before the lack of humidity would have shrunk the wood on the deck, so the story goes."

"So now we wait for the ghost ship. Tell me my friend, which of us will be the one last standing, cursed to live our life an undead missionary."

"Well, If my opinion matters, I don't think we are the doomed crew at all. In fact, you, my Captain, I am sure, are the Captain of the magical ship with gossamer sails."

"Ha, do you think! Well for a start my locks ain't that golden! -- and the rest!!" She twirled one of her dreads and continued the metaphor, "Ok then -- if I were the Captain, that would make you the Reaper. Do you remember the words, Is Death that woman's mate?"

"Perhaps Ven," Denver gave a croaky chuckle, "but I fear that I don't match the archetype of such a formidable life-taker as Death incarnate."

Without a thought, they both glanced over at the gaunt skull-like features of Riggs, who was also resting against the wall across from them. The short Evenjevy looked like a child beside the lanky, tall form of the horned auger. It has been a unanimous decision to take the prisoner off tranquilizers, after she provided a promise to work with her stranded shipmates toward their common goal of returning home safely.

Riggs' eyes snapped open as a loud shout came from the private quarters.

"NO WAY!!", It was C-Buck, "Grimes' charizon just one-hit KO'd my blastoid!"

She couldn't see him from where she was sitting, but the nerve-jarring voice of C-Buck was an unmistakable annoyance. At this moment, however, also a welcome distraction in time to change the direction her conversation with Denver -- life-taking being the last concept she wished to dwell on.