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06c. 1975 AD
What is she to you anyway?""Here's my answer captain. She's the thing that made this all okay-the threadbare coats and the old boots and the guns that jams when you most need them to fire, the loneliness of knowing that you don't matter, that you will never matter, the fact that you're just another body, another uniform to be sent into the fold or the frost, another good boy who knows his place, who does his job, who doesn't ask questions, who will lie down and die and be forgotten. What is she? She's everything, you dumb son of a bitch.
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20c. 1975 AD
Jesper knocked his head against the hull and cast his eyes heavenward. “Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.”Brekker’s lips quirked. “I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.”“My ghost won’t associate with your ghost,” Matthias said primly, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.
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