Work Text:
Abandon Ship
The sea is calm. The vessel’s stern slices through the water and the ripples it leaves behind are the movement for as far as the eye can see. The air is quiet. No calls of gulls disturb the quiet out so far from the shores they haunt. The crew is silent, their hands complete the tasks they were assigned without fuss or error. They avoid each other’s eyes and make no effort to alleviate the stifling stillness, they know better than to do that.
The waves are rolling now, the port is bustling with people, each more alive than the next. With stories and connections and identity.
Peter Lukas pours himself a glass of scotch inside his quarters (empty, always empty and sacred), he toasts to an invisible figure and downs the liquor. His last voyage for a while (he knows deep down that it will be the last voyage, ever). The silence permeates here, echoing and deafening. The room is cold and lifeless, no sign that anyone has ever set foot here. Like Lukas himself has been long dead and haunts this place as a ghost.
The crew shifts listlessly on the deck, they haven’t received orders for months now, but the pay is still coming and they’re paid to stand at the ready. So they stay ready to launch a voyage at short notice, their captain is unpredictable as the sea.
Lukas stands up and walks out on deck, his feet do not disturb the collected dust on the quarter’s floor. He drifts across the deck, feeling the rock of the ship underneath him, savouring the loneliness of the silence. His crew does not lift their heads to look at him.
He gazes out into the sea, still holding his empty glass, the wind blowing around him makes no noise. Lukas closes his eyes and savours the salty air he’d miss so much, deep in the smog of London.
She’ll never sail again, they know that deep down. Something in the air has changed, a silence has been broken, but the loneliness lingers. They do not know each other, they have lived a false life for so long they barely know themselves. The crew of the Tundra waits silently for an order that will never come.