Personal Log 152: 21 January, 3303
03 Jul 2017Jemine Caesar
21 January, 3303"Do you think," said Barnes Darrell, "that perhaps you may have been a little hard on your mother?"
Three days had passed since the "Star's End" wrap party. Sam, having finally made up his mind to go into the tourist industry, had arranged for his ship to be fitted with a business-class passenger cabin. Grandpapa had gratefully accepted Sam's offer of a free ride in it back to LHS 3447 A-5 after his promised lift had fallen through. Mother had stayed behind at Carthage on what she referred to as "a studio matter".
"I suppose I did overreact somewhat," I replied. The two of us were relaxing and drinking lemonade on the veranda of my grandparents' remote estate, Arcadia. Sam had gone for a walk in the nearby woods, it being a lovely day.
"It was quite a scene," said grandpapa. "Worthy of any holovid, in fact."
"I just felt she was trying to manipulate me," I went on. "It made me angry. I've had enough of being manipulated by near-total strangers over the past couple of years, and I can do without it from my own mother."
"She was trying to be kind, in her own way. You mustn't hold a grudge against her, Jemine. You and she still haven't spoken since the party, I take it?
"No, we haven't. It was too awkward." I tossed my head back and rolled my eyes to the sky. "Oh, shit! I really did behave like an ungrateful bitch, didn't I? I hope I haven't made life difficult for her."
"Oh, I shouldn't worry," said grandpapa, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Your mother will soon be able to smooth things over. Everything'll be all right, believe me."
"When the dust has settled I'll apologise to her. I promise."
"Splendid." Grandpapa smiled and nodded, as though drawing a line under the matter for the time being. "So, what are your immediate plans? Bounty hunting, is it?"
"That's right. It's what I want to do."
"Yes, you've made that perfectly plain, my dear. And I'm sure you'll make a good job of it, too." A wistful smile appeared on grandpapa's thin lips. "My, how you've grown. How you've changed. You know, witnessing you squaring up to your mother the other day put me in mind of a line from Shakespeare. Let's see if I can remember it... 'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.' Yes, that was it."
"Macbeth," I said, recognising the quote with a smile. "Papa used to recite it to the farmhands." I looked at grandpapa curiously. "Is that how you think of me now? A serpent, masquerading as an innocent flower?"
Grandpapa chuckled. "On the contrary, my dear. I see you— and please don't take this the wrong way— I see you as an innocent flower which longs to become a serpent."
"I'm not so innocent, grandpapa," I said, with a trace of sadness. "Not any more."
"No, you're not." Leaning forward, grandpapa took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Take care out there, Jemine."
*****
The next day, after saying our goodbyes to Barnes, Sam and I took the shuttle up to Dalton Gateway. The Last Thing was still at Stevenson Base, so I would be making the trip back to Beta Hydri with Sam in his Asp.
"You look pensive, my love," said Sam. We were sitting in the pilot's lounge waiting for our allotted take-off time. There was still an hour to go. "Something on your mind?"
"My ship," I replied. "Or, rather, the name of my ship. I've been thinking about it a lot recently. The time has come for a change. The Last Thing I Do was coined with a specific goal in mind."
Sam nodded, "Revenge for Bekka," he said, lowering his voice in case anyone overheard and jumped to the correct conclusion.
"Yes. I used to derive a sense of purpose from the name. The Last Thing I Do was a statement of defiance, a symbol of my determination. But lately it's taken on a less positive undertone, as though I'm somehow lacking belief in myself. Does that make any sense?"
"It does. For most commanders, their ship name is a highly personal thing, often holding a deep significance. It has to feel right."
"And The Last Thing I Do doesn't feel so right any more. It's time for me to move on." I took my dataslate from my bag and pressed a few buttons on its display screen. After a few minutes I looked up and took a deep breath. "Right. The decision is made."
"A new name for the old ship?"
"More than that, Sam. A new name for a new ship. I'm going to sell the Viper and buy one of these." I showed Sam the image on my dataslate.
"A Vulture," he said.
"They seem quite popular among bounty hunters and pirates alike, or so I've gathered from the chat on PFedSocMed. Those pilots can't all be wrong."
"Any ship is only as good as the pilot, Jem," warned Sam.
"I know," I said. "And I also know there are plenty of pilots out there who are far more proficient than I am. But I'm learning all the time, and I'll get better. You'll see." I tapped more buttons on my slate. "There. All done. The Last Thing I Do is no more."
"Already?"
"Yep. Sold the Viper, bought the Vulture."
"Just like that?"
"I'm not quite so impulsive!" I said, grinning. "I checked out the Vulture in the shipyard earlier. Four previous owners, with a bit of minor battle damage, but she's all right and ready to fly. She was a bargain at the price, too. I won't be needing the ride back to Beta Hydri now."
"No, obviously. So, what's it to be?"
"Hmm?"
"The new ship name. Have you got one in mind?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "I have. I got the idea from something grandpapa said to me. A quotation from Shakespeare's Macbeth, in fact. It feels... right."
"Well? What is it?"
I gave Sam a sweet smile.
"Innocent Flower."