Every citizen of the sky-cities of His Majesty's Star-Empire knows that a ship, both sky- and star-, is more then just a few bits of metal. It is the grand sum of it's hull and the crew that sail it. 'Hulls of battle-steel and men to match!' That's what the Navy's recruitment poster's claim at least. Every sailor knows that there is one more component that the city-bound folk ignore at their own peril: the soul of the ship. That it takes both man and hull to make a true ship, and that neither alone serve well or for long. In 8225 Lord Jeffrye Saltonstall the Fourth, Political Lord of the Surveyor's Corps, demands semi-automated ships to 'reduce the loss of life among our brave crews', manages to convince the other politicians and bureaucrats to fund them, and gets the Office of Ship Construction to sign off on the ships as structurally sound. Dockyard workers shake their heads at the ships, muttering that they are cursed from birth, even as construction drags on. In 8230 the Explorer, first of her class, is launched. She sets out in 8233 to great fanfare on a trip expected to last six months. Neither she nor her twelve-person crew is ever heard from again. By 8235, the remaining seven Explorers are are commissioned. Lord Saltonstall managed to find crews for six of them but at the cost of mass resignations. The Night Horse, last of the Explorer class, sat in reserve as her sister-ships served well enough despite ill luck and misfortune. The Office of Ship Construction quietly issues notice that no more semi-automated ships are to be built and that all active Semi-automated ships are to be quietly retired and broken up for scrap over the next ten years. The Night Horse, sitting in reserve, is missed due to bureaucratic oversight. In 8250 Lord Ayland Wynstryngham the Eighth assumes the office of Political Lord of the Surveyor's Corps. His first act is to issue notice that no ship is to be without crew nor sit in dock or reserve for longer then required for maintenance and upkeep. The Night Horse, all but forgotten, is quietly brought back into active service. Recruiting a crew for her proves another matter entirely. What poor or desperate fool would willingly sign on to crew, much less command, a cursed ship and spend months or years in deep space? Well, you would, of course. Where else is a kid from the gutters going to find that kind of freedom in the service of His Majesty? A [participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge] 2021. Warnings: Second person is used in this work. Semi-Polished draft: Posted chapters are subject to revision as needed as things progress. Mild Profanity on occasion.