Arguyle ‘’Bootleg’’ McCullough peered through blurry eyes at the mechanical innards of the engine block. The dim neon overhead was the only source of light, making everything beyond a few feet into unrecognizable shadows. Despite knowing full well that he was already quite drunk, the mechanic reached for the bottle of whiskey standing precariously on the edge of his tool box and took a long pull. He hardly tasted the alcohol anymore, even if he did his best to find the oldest bottles. They were supposed to have a stronger flavor. All he cared about now was that the whiskey got him drunk. He put the bottle down on the toolbox a bit more loudly that he would have liked to; the gesture reflecting some of his inner frustrations. The bottle did not break but the sound resonated throughout the quiet engine room. Arguyle did not hear it; working around noisy engines for so long at shot most of his ability to detect noises unless they were loud. He returned to his work. He did not have to hear to the hum of the engine to know that a fuel coupling was loose. He could hear it in the vibrations, something only someone who spent all of his days near the engine could have discerned.

This late at night all of the other crew members were alseep. Bootleg never slept more than an hour or two at a time. He felt fatigue like anyone else but he knew his dreams would be filled with memories he refused to live again. Whiskey kept him awake, his own personal savior.

‘’El Gaspacho?’’ A feminine voice said, from behind him followed by a musical giggle. The voice was filled with mirth, the voice of a young woman. Arguyle smirked but tried his best to hide it. His sister always ‘’appeared’’ to him only when he was drunk, it was the real reason why he did his best to take in more than his share of booze each day. Everyone simply thought he had trouble letting go of the bottle. Arguyle knew he had trouble letting go of his sister.

Arianne McCullough died almost ten years ago, due to the greediness of her husband, the former Captain Declan. Arguyle was convinced of it, despite most of his old crewmates telling him otherwise. Declan had taken Arianne from him and the mechanic had never forgiven him. After that Arguyle had stepped into a downward spiral that had reduced him to the man he was now.

He saw her, as usual, as a blur that seemed to come in an out of focus, just at the edge of his vision. This time she was as he remembered her on that fateful day when she had landed at the spaceport where he had been working. She had come in the arms of a charismatic young man and towing a brand new ship behind her. She had been barely in her twenties then, a pretty lass who always smiled. He always loved to see her smile. Arguyle sometimes tried to ignore her, when he was not as drunk. He knew she was dead, that she existed only in his mind. At least he hoped that it was his imagination and not her ghost; he would hate to know she had not found her final rest.

This time though he did not ignore her, he needed her now and he did not care that anyone might hear him, apparently talking to himself in his cramped engine room.

‘’Well it has a nice ring to it, I suppose’’ Arianne said. He saw her, just to his left at the limit of the light hoping up on the engine block. Leaning back on her arms. He felt her eyes on him, boring into his heart and in his mind. He tried his best to continue his work. ‘’I’m glad you’ll be flying again, you were wasting away in that dingy apartment, you know.’’ His sister’s tone of voice was sincere though he knew she was mothering him, as she had always done despite being a dozen years younger than him. It had never annoyed Arguyle who was constantly unsure of himself.

‘’Jus’ hitchin’ a ride, ta see the Decoy in good hands, Ari, that’s all’’. He said, his voice hoarse. He always heard her clearly, despite his disability. She was the clear note in an otherwise dulled world.

‘’Right, you can’t lie to me so don’t try.’’ She laughed. Arguyle had never been able to hide anything from his sister. He chuckled as well. ‘’Well you know I meant ta keep the Decoy fer meself, lass. The bastard that married ye wouldn’t sell it to me, said I was a danger to others and unfit as a captain. Like as not he was just ‘fraid I wouldn’t be able to find the credits fer her. Stayin’ on as mechanic was the only way ta see her fly true.’’ He turned his head towards her hoping to see her fully instead of just a blur but as always she had already ‘’moved’’. Now the young woman was sitting near his feet, her back propped against his toolbox. Arguyle gave up trying to look directly at her.

‘’You can’t live in a ship forever, brother. Why don’t you retire? Maybe do like Declan and open shop? You could work as a mechanic groundside.’’ He voice was soft, pleading. At times like this, Arguyle really believed that it was her ghost and not a figment of his imagination. She had always tried to give him suggestions on how to improve his life. Most of the time he had enjoyed her advice but this time it only made him angry.

‘’I ain’t giving her up, I ain’t giving you up. This ship was our home, it’s all I have left o’ ye.’’ He said more forcefully than he wanted to. He reached for the bottle of whiskey, took a swallow and put it back down again.

‘’Well if you continue like this it will not end so well for you, brother.’’ He thought he saw her look up at him, her beautiful blue eyes a balm on his troubled heart.

‘’Where else am I to go? Who’ll want the likes o’ a fat ugly boozer? Bishop went up an’ joined the Alliance, fancies himself a real soldier now. Maggie got herself a place in with the classy folks at the Core. She be surrounded by folks what ain’t got use fer the likes o’ me an’ I ain’t aimin’ ta mess it up fer her. She’s the only one o’ the crew that I still like.’’ Arguyle hated thinking about the rest of the crew and he did his best not to think about Declan, it only made him angrier.

Arianne sighed deeply. ‘’I’ve told you before, Maggie would be happy to take you in, she was fond of you. Bishop went on his way, you should not be angry at him for that. As for Declan he…’’ Arguyle did not let her finish. He picked up the bottle, roaring in anger and threw it at the engine block. It shattered, the pricy whiskey it contained mixing in with engine grease and dust.

Arianne was gone. On the rare occasions when he had ‘’argued’’ with her she always disappeared. He would not see her for several days, he knew. Arguyle leaned against his toolbox, his large meaty hands gripping the edges of the box tightly. He felt the urge to find Declan and tear his head from his shoulders. As usual, the old mechanic simply shook his head at his own cowardice and went to find another bottle of whiskey…