“Oh, of course not all of them. I’d try my best, but there are tens of thousands aboard this ship. I’d have to spend hours each day before I could remember each name correctly, and that’s [i]before[/i] keeping track of any personal matters. But, surely, at least among the more senior…”

Come to think of it. He hadn’t been Captain for very long, true. But how many times had anybody, of any ranking, come to see him? Without his asking for them first?

“Do you mean to tell me,” he asked, delicately. “That this is [i]normal[/i] for you? This is how you expect ships to be run?”

Say it isn’t so, Ramses. His legs, they don’t work. This isn’t his wheelchair. He’s, he’s trapped here, you see. You can’t tell him news that sad, when he can’t make you a snack later, or hold your hand now, or, anything, to make it even a little bit better.