He dreamt of the sea.
As a boy he dreamt long and hard about those stories he heard. The tales long forgotten, passed around with the uncertainty of oral traditions that should have died at the closing of the wormhole. Those tales of men who, countless centuries ago, waged war on anyone who came between them and their love - the sea. The sea meant freedom. And now the sea is black and instead of waves, there are stars. Instead of storms, there are magnetic fields and blackholes. Instead of treasure galleys, mining haulers. Countless days and nights he gazed, ever upwards, waiting for that time to meet his bride to be - the black ocean.
And now the sea seems less glorious. Instead of leading men into battle, capturing the boats of lesser men, and imbibing in the treasures of space he was here - mopping up rats who meddled in empire space, running wine to Federation executives born into wealth. Left to wait. Luckily, this is a man of patience, one who has learned the lessons of history. Soon enough his own Calico Jack would fly and the seas would fear him. Just a few more weeks in this pod. A few more days soaking up databits and old-fashioned experience. Just a few more days.
'Yo ho, yo ho...'
Cleared for publication by: Ander
Good luck :)