Starship pilot who wishes they could roll down the windows
The run out to Ny Norrland had gone incredibly well. Besides the goods she'd been contracted for, she'd been able to offload a bunch of old cargo that'd been taking up hold space for ages, and she'd managed to restock. She now had a hold full of traditional Norrlandian products that would hopefully fetch a pretty cred with wealthy clients in other systems.
Everyone liked other people's traditions, mostly to look at or drink, if only so they could feel superior to them, and if she could embellished the story, tell them they were handwoven or pressed by blue-eyed virgins wearing very little clothing... yeah. She'd finally be able to turn a profit.
For the first time in captain Amélie Giroud's depressing career amongst the stars, life was good. She even dared to feel optimistic about her future.
Her first indication that something had gone horribly wrong, was the air scrubbers suddenly kicking into overdrive above the cockpit door. The next instant, she could feel her lunch try to escape as an unholy stench assaulted her, grabbed her nostrils and mugged them in broad daylight.
Fuck, did something crawl into the ducts and die again?
Except she knew what that smelled like, and this... this was so much worse. It'd have to be an entire herd of those reindeer they'd seen down there to be this strong – and there was no way that many creatures could even fit on her ship.
Gagging, trying to cover her mouth as the poor air scrubbers whined and fought a rearguard action against this olfactory invasion, Amélie went in search of the source – which unfortunately meant going towards where the reek was strongest. Not that she could really smell anything anymore. All was stench and foulness.
"Oh no no no no no she's going to kill me."
That sounded like her niece. Whose parents had begged Amélie to take her with her, teach her a good work ethic – and like an idiot, Amélie'd agreed, because she loved her brother. And her niece, while she was still someone she'd only had to interact with in brief bursts. Not... so much, these days.
Her brother hadn't mentioned the little fact that Geraldine was incredibly gullible and had a small problem with doing as she was told. Or that she had a roving eye, amongst other body parts.
Following the girl's voice, Amélie stepped into the cargo hold – and stopped dead at the shambles within. All her carefully stored away goods – her profit – were strewn about haphazardly, and in the centre... Geraldine, trying to stuff an expensive reindeer-pelt coat into... Surely all that stink couldn't come from such a little can of...
Amélie squinted. Fish? She remembered the tightly sealed crate. And the harbourmaster's warning when he saw them carry it on board. "Sure, it'll sell, but never open it," he'd said. "Just hand it over to whichever sucker you can sell it to, and then make yourself scarce."
Of course.
Catching sight of her aunt, Geraldine yelped and redoubled her efforts. "Anders suggested it! I just wanted to help!" she blurted, tears streaming down her face. Either because of what she'd done, or because being this close to the source of the stench was burning out her olfactory sense for good.
"Anders, Anders..." Amélie thought back to everyone she'd met this trip. Oh. Fuck. Him? "Big guy? Lots of scars? Has a girlfriend you... established diplomatic relations with?"
Geraldine's blush was answer enough.
"And he told you to do this?" Amélie prompted, already knowing where this was going.
The girl nodded furiously as she tried to pinch her nostrils flat. "Yes! He said opening a can on the trip back was an ancient sailing tradition that brought good luck! I wanted to do something nice for you!"
For fuck's sake.
Amélie'd have to make planetfall somewhere as quickly as possible and... Wait.
How did you air out a hauler with space-hardened windows?
"... I think you owe me a new ship."