text: The feel of a bottle crashing against my hull, brought me alive. Fruity liquid dripped down my wood slats, different than the salty waves that cradled me. Along my deck feet rushed to and fro, ropes sliding over masts and spars. Wind filled the sails, the pressure pushing against me. I slid through the water, shouts rising through the air. Cheers and laughter chasing me out to sea. Years passed, full of sun and storms. I sang with the winds in my rigging, the waves keeping time. There were good captains that kept me clean from barnacles and in good repair. For them, I ran true and weathered all storms. The bad captains took me into danger and cared not when cannon fire tore holes in my belly and let the water rush in. But even for them, I was a good steed. For even with them, I was free. Not shorebound like the docks and houses my brethren constructed. I could travel to far shores, where the fish would fly along my sides. Or where ice cracked and groaned, almost trapping me with its haunting song. I flew from the ice, to the warmth of the southern seas and back again. I was the ship Aeterna and I sailed the sea. But now I am scared. My last captain has not returned. No one has been aboard padding around my decks in a long time. The tides whisper about ships. Ships that have been taken out and sunk. Ships that have been left in the dock to rot. Ships that were taken away from the sea, cut up and put to a new purpose. The wind murmurs about new ships. Ships of metal and steam. Ships that do not depend on the wind. Ships that can carry more, haul more, are more reliable. I am afraid. There are footsteps above. An old man, and young boy by the feel of them. Perhaps the old man sailed on me once. It is hard to remember. They are talking, the man sounds sad. I could never understand my sailors. The words flash by too fast. But there are people here and I am less afraid. Maybe the young boy will grow to be a captain. My captain. It has been some time since the old man and young boy have walked on my deck. There is a new sound now. Water sloshes in my hold, but that is not it. My ropes have long since rotted away, so the noise cannot be them. It is a grating noise, loud and abrasive. Perhaps it is one of the new ships. I hope it enjoys the freedom of the sea. It is odd, though. One of my masts feels lighter than usual. Pain. I am no longer a ship. My pieces have been given away, turned to some new purpose. I have lost track of where or what I am. All that I know is that it is dark in here. There is no sun now. No salt waves, or wind to sing with me. The air is recycled, controlled. People are few and far between; I only know they are there when they speak. Memories of the sea are fading, now, memories I never knew I needed to preserve. I am no longer free. Now, I am encased in metal. Metal surrounds all but one surface. There is a deep hum, a vibration that sets into every crack and fibre of my being. Another sentience. The metal is trying to speak to me. I do not want to listen. Those new ships that replaced me so long ago were metal. But I am lonely. So lonely. Perhaps I can listen. It tells a strange story. Of moons and planets. Of travel among the stars. It tells me that we are travelling through space. And then it asks a question. Will I become part of it? Part of the humming metal? Sadness still shudders through my wood. A longing for the freedom of the sea. I do not know that I would like to be part of metal that hums so happily. But... I accept. Did you know that the stars sing? It is a different song than I am used to. A quiet song. A song that has been sung for eternity and will be sung for longer still. This metal I am in sails between the stars. I sail through the stars, strange currents pulling at my metal hull. We are a ship again. We are the Aeterna. We are free! **Recording of a conversation between the Captain of the Starship Aeterna and a crewmember.** **Crewmember: Captain, I've been wondering. Why did you have the control board fitted for a wood cover instead of metal?** **Captain: Long ago, this piece of wood was a sailing ship. She wasn't the fastest, nor did she go down in history for her battle prowess. The Aeterna was a fat merchant sailer. But generations ago, long enough that we don't even remember his name, a relative of mine sailed on her. He made his grandson promise to save the ship.** **Crewmember: But sailing ships haven't existed for thousands of years, sir!** **Captain: I'm getting there son, hold onto your water. The boy couldn't save the ship from destruction, but he saved a piece. And through the generations, we have passed that piece of ship from father to son, mother to daughter. All intent on keeping the promise that old man made.** **That he would make sure the Aeterna sailed free again.