I slowly wound open the other eye at Master Engineer Joe.
“You sure, Em-ee? Harrigan?”
“Yeah, told me in a roundabout way to get you off your ass and up to the forecastle, so yes I’m pretty sure.”
“I need to enter a route correction at seventeen-ninety, so this had better be good.”
Inside, though, I was a little bit more intrigued. Harrigan didn’t keep much of a hands-on approach these days. The ship filled my fuzzy thoughts with the routine sounds of mechanical function as I tried to pull myself out of the drug low. Stupid stimulants can keep you up for days, but when you crash you go down like a fat lady on a greased pole.
Speaking of grease, I needed to get some more type-98 code headers on the next port stop.