Dear Diary,

"The anthropologists got it wrong when they named our species Homo sapiens ('wise man'). In any case it's an arrogant and bigheaded thing to say, wisdom being one of our least evident features. In reality, we are Pan narrans, the storytelling chimpanzee."

- Sir Terry Pratchett, The Globe

Funny thing I found while exploring my new flagship. Apparently along with a little cafeteria and some office space that had been set aside, as well as museum displays and maybe a gift shop, somebody left a whole little bookshelf full of reading material. No rhyme or reason to it; I think it might be books people left behind that somebody just shelved up. Honestly, I'd kinda forgotten that the New Jersey had got turned into a museum. On the one hand, I'm a little disappointed that nothing works. On the other hand I think some of the modern conveniences might start working if the little gas powered emergency generator is enough to power stuff.

I haven't tested it yet. I guess Angel was right back in the day. I got used to roughing it, and while having a refrigerator and shit would be great, not to mention real functioning indoor plumbing, I'm not so desperate that I'm going to waste what might be the only gasoline in existence just to see whether or not the lights work.

Honestly? I think they might. The whole ship looks a lot newer, a lot nicer than it did the times I visited back in the world of Eastside. Maybe that's why she wasn't in dock when I went looking for her; they'd towed her off to do some maintenance, maybe. Probably down at the Philly Shipyard, what with that being the only place even close to local I know of that has a dry dock big enough. But if they took the trouble to give her a new paint job and scrub the deck until the teak gleamed like new, I figure they must have done some basic electrical maintenance.

So yeah, not wasting the gasoline. I am, however, laying claim to that fucking bookshelf, because here and now doesn't do novels, and even their reference books are written like somebody who'd been taught to write by a sentient anthropomorphic ass that couldn't pass the audition to get into one of Chuck Tingle's books. Anybody touches them before I read them is gonna lose some fingers, and anybody who damages my books is gonna regret that shit for as long as they can hold their breath.

Yesterday after the Hole Spawn scattered, the fleet formed up around the Black Dragon, as I'd named her with my song, treating her more like a big metal fortress than a ship. Then again, I had no idea how to start the engines, and technically I'd run her aground when she landed. Her ass hung out into some deeper water, and it seemed to float just fine, but the front two thirds of her had mashed the silt under her into something resembling clay. When Swanson climbed aboard up a steep boarding ramp from his big sailboat, he stumbled a little before saying, "she's aground, isn't she?"

I nodded. "Pretty sure it's a mix of silt and Dragon bits under her. Her outer hull has a honeycomb of Cold Iron; it should be safe to, like, store food and sleep inside her hull. She's got refrigerators and pantries, but without the engines running there's no power to them. Still probably cooler than barrels in the sailboats though."

He stared at me. "I think I understood like one word in three of that."

I snorted at him. "You're not that dumb, Swanson. Key points - it's a safe spot for injured people to rest, it's a safe spot to store food. Oh, and I'm pretty sure the tower's higher than the crow's nest of any of your sailboats." I looked around the ship and realized something. Everything aboard gleamed like new. "Oh, one thing. If anybody makes a mess? They clean that shit up, as clean as it is now."

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"Even the Infirmary?"

"Especially the Infirmary."

He took a deep breath and blew it out. "If it was anyone but you, I'd wish you luck keeping her as clean as you want her. As it is, I pity the men assigned here."

I paused a moment in thought. "Tell you what. Put out a call for Volunteers to be stationed aboard permanently. I want twenty of them. Their entire job, for the moment, will be keeping her clean."

"For the moment?"

I nodded. "Once they show me they'll take care of her, and my wife and I figure out how to get some of the weapons working, maybe we'll have them man the guns or something. But for now, yeah, their job will be just keeping her as spotless as she is now."

He frowned again. "Twenty men, especially the Thralls you're likely to get, aren't a huge loss to our fighting strength, but are you sure it's a good use of even that much manpower?"

I nodded and held up a finger. "First, seeing her brass gleam and wood shine is gonna be good for morale. Nothing says 'I won hard' better than kicking your enemy's ass so hard you don't even break a sweat." I held up another finger. "Second, we're gonna be facing a bunch of Plague shit, and I don't know whether the wind is gonna blow from Calverton at any point. Diseases hate clean. Cleaning kills plague. Not, like, perfectly, but you're gonna wind up way less sick on a clean ship than a dirty one."

He nodded along at that. "Fair point; my mother used to tell me something of the sort when I was still attached to her skirts."

I nodded. "Third? She's clean now. I like her that way. If everybody cleans up up after themselves, she'll stay that way. Good enough?"

"As you wish it, my Queen, so shall it be done."

"There's another thing. Thanks for reminding me. Where's Weyson?"

"Honestly I'm not sure, but I'll have him report to you?"

"Sounds good. I'll be on the bridge." I pointed to the windows, then stepped up to where my Captain's chair lay broken on the floor. I sat my ass down on one of the seats closer to the window and sat there watching the fleet get its shit together. For the rest of the day they all lined up on the lee side of the Black Dragon, letting it shield them from the miasma radiating from Calverton. The Trolls made their way to the Black Dragon and bivouacked right on the deck when the sun set.

At that point I Co-Located one of me home. Or I tried to, then stepped outside the metal shell of the bridge and did it again. Then I collapsed onto the bed. "Ow."

"What's wrong, love?"

"Think I broke my back." Suddenly she stood next to me, one hand on me, Shaping an Assess Health. "Four times. And my pelvis. And impaled myself all the way through my skull."

"You're certainly a bit beat up. Did any of you survive?"

"Yeah. The ones with the broken pelvises. And lower backs."

She leaned in and kissed me, releasing a Heal into me as she did. "Did you want to sleep?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I need to stay awake down there to make sure they don't fuck up my new ship."

"Your new what?"

I blinked. "Oh. Oh, my. Marie didn't tell you?" I snagged her and pulled her to me, then collapsed with her back to the me outside the bridge. I watched as her eyes got huge when we stepped inside.

"Love?"

"Yeah, Kitten?"

Her hands hovered over the controls in front of me. "May I?"

"Yeah. Nothing's powered up. Not really sure how we'll get the engines going. Same with the guns. And, y'know, everything else, really."

She ran her hands over the smooth plastic covering the controls. "Is this... supposed to be here?"

I shrugged. "I copied a museum ship." At her confused look, I explained. "A warship that had been turned into a museum."

"Can it be turned back?"

"I have no fuckin' clue."

She looked up at me, supplication clear in her eyes. "My Goddess... may I try?"

I scooped her up and snuggled her while another of me stepped up to the top of the superstructure and waved down the nearest Marie. "That is absolutely why I brought you down here, Kitten. But one thing first."

Marie showed up, although like me she had problems Translocating directly through the outer metal shell, what with the Cold Iron I'd laced it with. "Before we do anything else? We're gonna find the Admiral's quarters and break them in just a little."

"Just a little?"

"I mean, I want to mark them as ours. Not actually break them."

She grinned up at me, teasing Grin in place. "So let's go break them in, then!"