She looks up from the tattered book, eyes refocusing on the space outside. It is very old, decorated with pictures of amber and sand. The ship groans. It is old and well-loved. Parts of its skeleton are peeled out, and bent into living spaces and dining halls. She sits on one of the bones, one refashioned into a sitting spot.
"Captain." Her first mate says her title and holds out a gun to her. In his bottom set of hands, he holds a former crewmember, caught stealing from the haul.
"Khtthhhhs!" She says, pleading for her life. It means: "Forgiveness! Forgiveness!"
She takes the gun from her first mate, and loads it with rounds strapped across her chest.
"Why should I?"
"Krithhhik!" It means: "Loss."
"And who's fault it that? Your crew failed to get the drop." She sighs. "And now there's that much less to go around."
"Khtthhhs!"
"You knew what you were getting into when you joined this crew." She sighs again and aims the weapon at her victim's head. The first mate moves slightly out of the way. His first set of arms are crossed, the other set holding down the pleading crew member. The captain aims for the vital organs of the crew member. She continues to plead.
"Khtthhhs! Khtthhhs!"
The gunshot was not heard, muffled by the roaring engine.
