John wasn't sure what to think of his "host." Captain Drake seemed affable enough, most of the time, though John had noticed more than one of his subordinates seemed more intimidated by the man than even his station explained, which meant there was probably a side to the man John wasn't seeing.

Having spent most of his professional life working with various successful executives, John was familiar with the duplicity of men who viewed themselves as his better and was left wondering when the other metaphorical shoe would drop.

The good news was he was getting more adept at maneuvering his new wheelchair, though he wondered why he was more or less given free rein to wander about the ship. Well, most of the ship, anyway. There were a few "out of bounds" areas, and the crew quickly reminded him of the fact whenever he strayed too close.

Speaking of the crew, they were nothing like his original captors. In many regards, they were even more clean-cut and polite than most normal sailers John had known over the years. Occasionally, he'd spot someone who fit a more traditional pirate stereotype, but more than likely, they were just visiting to speak with the Captain.

The whole thing felt like some stage production of a palace fit for a refined noble rather than the admiral of a pirate fleet. It made John wonder, just who was the play for? It seemed like a lot to go through just for himself, so more than likely, it was to fit the persona Captain Drake liked to portray. This was more of a display of wealth and power than any of Drake's "private collections." After thinking about it for a moment, John realized that, in some perverse way, he was a part of that display. His freedom of movement, the deference the crew showed him, Drake trying to track down his daughter and grandchildren, it was all to set the stage to stroke Drake's ego further.

One thing John had learned over the years was that if such a man's carefully crafted persona was threatened in any way, they tended to react quickly and violently. For now, it would be best to play the role his host had decided for him. He'd continue to portray himself as a reluctantly impressed guest, hesitantly won over by Drake's wit and charm, but keep his eyes open for any opportunities to stack the odds in his favor in the event of a change in attitude, though he had doubts about what a middle-aged banker could do in that regard aboard a pirate ship...

-

Charlotte was used to managing a complex series of thoughts and actions for many thousands of selves over vast swaths of space, but keeping up with so many humans was exhausting. To use a human term that Scott had once explained to her, it was like herding cats.

Both Scott and Lacy depended on Charlotte to keep an eye on their respective "pirate problems," though at least Cleo seemed relatively content to focus on her brewing. On the other hand, the pirates aboard Lacy's new ship seemed to sway between discussing mutiny when they thought no one was looking to fervently following all of Lucy's orders out of a combination of fear of Charlotte and desire for the rewards Lucy offered.

Lacy said a little mutiny talk was typical after a hostile takeover like this, but so long as no one was hiding guns or establishing secret meetings, it wasn't anything to worry about. She did make sure to have a word with a couple of what she described as the more provocative crew mates. After that, things seemed to calm down...slightly.

Not that Lacy was giving them much time to get into mischief. She immediately set about cleaning and preparing the ship for action while running the crew through drills until she was happy with their performance, or as she put it, "less likely to space the next incompetent idiot who couldn't properly fulfill their duty to an acceptable degree upon demand."

But for all that chaos and confusion, it seemed easier to manage than Scott. He still smiled and laughed with Alice and was as friendly as ever to Charlotte. But at the same time, Charlotte noticed he rarely engaged anyone on his own initiative. In fact, there were times he just sat in his bunk, not doing anything other than staring off into a distance that wasn't there.

When Charlotte brought it up to Lacy, she sighed and explained that he had a lot to work through and maybe he just needed some time. Eventually, Alice would get impatient and draw him out, and for a while, he seemed to be the old Scott again, laughing and playing along with his sister's antics, but even then, when he thought no one was looking, it was common for him to stare off into the distance, "lost in thought," as the humans put it.

Even Alice had started noticing it, though her take was a little simpler than Lacy's. "Mom told me that sometimes we get sad, and sometimes that sadness is so big, we don't know what to do with it, but in time it shrinks. Scott is so sad that even being happy doesn't make it go away, but if we keep helping him get happy again, the sadness will shrink."

It was a very simple way of describing what seemed to be a complex human emotion, but without anything else to go on, it seemed as good a plan as any. One thing Charlotte had noticed Scott had always enjoyed in the past was explaining things to her. With that in mind, Charlotte approached Scott's room with the appendage Scott seemed to recognize as the more "Charlotte."

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

-

Scott was wondering what he should do with his life when a characteristic "knock" on his door meant Charlotte would like to speak to him. With a sigh, he shelved the thoughts a moment and answered the door. "Hello Charlotte, what's up?"

Charlotte tilted her head as if considering how to respond. "Up is a direction angled directly perpendicular and away from the center of gravity relative to our perspective, though I believe in this context that was a colloquialism meant to inquire as to why I am here, in which case I would like to speak with you."

It took Scott a moment to process what she'd said. "Was that a joke, or were you being literal?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes."

After another moment, Scott gave up on figuring that mess out and shook his head. "Well, what did you want to speak with me about?"

The way Charlotte examined him made Scott feel as though she was inspecting him for the first time. "I wish to understand what sadness is as humans understand it."

That surprised Scott. "Now that's a question! What brought that on?"

Charlotte seemed to consider this a moment. "I've heard the word used in many ways over the time I've known you and Alice. Alice often uses it as a form of regret over something lost or a mistake made, but in other cases, it seems to mean much more and have a larger impact. I feel my knowledge of the word is insufficient to understand what humans in general, and you specifically, are going through."

Scott laughed a bit. "Well, not beating around the bush, are you?" But Charlotte remained silent and waited, apparently refusing to get distracted by the phrase. It was likely this wasn't Charlotte's normal idle curiosity for general knowledge, but rather something motivated out of concern for Scott specifically. On the one hand, it kind of irked him to be called out like that. On the other hand, this was Charlotte. She wasn't the kind to act out of a sense of guilt or self-satisfaction; she was far more straightforward than that, and her concern was probably all the more genuine as a result.

With a heavy sigh, Scott motioned for her to enter and sat down in his chair with a sigh as he decided how to answer. "Sadness isn't a single thing; rather, it's a range, though maybe even that's too restricting."

Scott briefly wondered how to begin explaining such a complex idea. "Generally speaking, sadness is a negative feeling related to loss. The strength of the emotion is often directly related to how important the lost thing is to the individual. For instance, if I found a neat rock and someone took it from me, I might feel a slight pang, equivalent to, say, bumping an elbow. However, losing a friend would invoke a pain more like a knife in the guts. It hurts more, and the pain lasts longer."

Charlotte considered this a moment. "But the pain is not physical, correct?"

Scott shook his head. "No. Well, not in most cases, anyway, it's just the best comparison I can think of."

After another moment, Charlotte spoke again. "And you are in a similar pain right now. Is that due to the loss of your father?"

Scott flinched. "Yes? No?" He threw his hands up in the air. "I don't know! It's complicated!"

Rather than get frustrated or ask for clarification, Charlotte remained quiet. After a moment, Scott calmed down and thought about it more. "I guess I don't know how to feel. I apparently never knew my father. I always thought he was some kind of hero, and it turns out he was just some loser pirate, only concerned with himself. Then the bastard almost killed Alice and made me shoot him. His own son! How messed up is that? He doesn't deserve my pain!"

Charlotte tilted her head. "Does that make your pain wrong?"

Scot didn't know how to answer that. "Well, kinda, maybe? But not really. Pain just is. It isn't right or wrong. I just wish I felt it for someone...more deserving I guess."

Charlotte considered this for a moment. "I've noticed that when humans feel physical pain from many sources, it blends together and becomes hard to separate one source from another. Is it possible sadness works a similar way?"

Scott wasn't sure where Charlotte was going with this but nodded. "Yeah, that's definitely possible..."

Charlotte then looked at Scott as if examining him again. "Then is it possible you are feeling sad about more than the loss of a man you never really knew but are instead feeling sad about something that he took from you?"

Scott was about to answer that he hadn't really taken anything from him, not the way he'd taken so much away from Alice, but then stopped. She was right. His father had taken everything from him. All the memories of his childhood that he'd once enjoyed were now tainted by his knowledge of who his father really was. Not only that, he'd taken away Scott's very identity. Not long ago, Scott had thought himself the son of a hero and strove to live up to that inheritance, but that, too, was gone. He'd even taken Scott's innocence when he'd forced his son to gun him down to end his blind rage.

Looking down at his hands, Scott could see they were balled into fists, and only then did he realize he was breathing heavily as if getting ready for a fight. With conscious effort, he opened his hands and forced himself to relax, surprised at how tense he'd become.

Turning back to Charlotte, Scott smiled sadly. "That's...a very good point. I think... I think I need to process this a little..."

Charlotte nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Scott shook his head. "No...not right now. I think I just need to clear my head a little... Maybe a good workout is what I need..."

-

Cleo tasted the fruits of her labor and made a sour face. It definitely wasn't her best work, but she wasn't exactly working with purpose-built distillery equipment. Still, it was good enough to get the job done and wouldn't blind anyone...probably.

A ping at her door meant Scott was there to pick Cleo up for her daily workout. With timing like that, it was obviously meant to be. Now, she just had to figure out how to get him to lower his guard enough to have a drink or two with her and maybe finally get him to loosen up a bit.

After another chime, Cleo rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Hold on a moment!"

When Cleo opened the door, rather than the usual calm and collected Scott, she was greeted by a right messy version of the kid. He definitely looked like he'd had better days. As he spoke, she couldn't help but notice she'd seen cornered rats who looked happier than he did. "Ready to go?"

Remembering her earlier thoughts about fate and timing, Cleo decided to take a shot. "Yeah, sure, but first, how bout a drink?"