They tell me it’s an honor to have the Admiral aboard. They tell me this to mollify me, in my natural resentment.

The Admiral understands this reality, and so he discreetly pulls me aside.

I won’t undermine your authority. I won’t assert my own as such, except in an emergency.

You are the captain; I’m in civilian clothes. The crewmen know my face, my rank. Whereas the passengers need know naught.

That is: My identity remains private. But for those elite few, yourself of course included.

You are the captain—I’m not even a sailor.

Thank you, is my sole reply. We shake hands.

Later the sky shifts.

Then the sea shifts.

Then the ship shifts.

And worst of all, the power shifts.

We make it to shore, no damage done.

But for a horrid hour, I lost my ship.

It shouldn’t hurt. I did nothing wrong, nor was wrong done unto me.

But oh. I’m all too human. God, it hurts.