Cohost writing prompt: @make-up-a-starship-pilot — Starship pilot who sings on an open comms channel
Deep in the night, the Wolf Shift. The Fleet of Flowers is a tangled mass of motley ships, semi-permanently docked in slowly shifting configuration around the two decommissioned hulks of the obsolete battleships Tortuga and Laird Bohmont.
Some unknown Fleet pilot sings over the shortwave, this time of night, old spacehands' songs.
Fleetboss Rava comes on the mic to bark, in the silent lull between renditions: "If you're no to learn radio discipline or get your PTT fixed, hen, you can sing us The Way Back From Civeen."
Rava's reputation is toothful and unyielding; their continued leniency on the unknown songbird breeds a hundred hundred whispers of gossip.
As always, the singer says nothing, only starts singing again when the hourly traffic reports have transmitted. You could imagine, if you wanted, the hint of a smile in their tone when they come back on air, humming the opening bars of Civeen.