Recession (Trunked Novel)

Chapter 2

Recession | Chapter 2

Quickstar sat in his pilot's seat as the ship's navigation system carried him through the stars. Just as he took a sip of coffee, an alarm began to sound. Its tremendous volume gave him an instant headache. Soon the entire cockpit was blinking red with each high pitched buzz. He put down the coffee and placed his hands over his ears. The klaxon’s clamor grew even louder. He shut his eyes, trying to deal with the pain. Then the sound changed.

It was still loud, but no longer at deafening decibels. He opened his eyes to find that his cockpit of control filled panels was replaced by a dark room. His pilot’s chair a warm bed beneath him, and the ship's alarm now a ring emanating from his tablet. It was the Captain's ring. Quickstar let out a grunt as he reached over for his tablet and saw the time: 3:02 AM. This won't be good, he thought. He accepted the call.

"Captain, what is it?"

"Yeah good, you're up. I thought you weren't going to answer. It rang like ten times."

"Yeah, I was asleep. Do you know what time it is?"

"Shut up and listen! Get the ship ready for departure!"

"Captain, are you drunk?"

"Just do it, now!"

"Okay. Do you want me to try and get a hold of the crew?"

"No, don't worry about them. Just get the ship ready to leave!"

"What about our cargo pickup tomorrow?"

"I said get her ready to fly! That’s an order!"

"You're the Captain."

Quickstar hung up and threw on some clothes.

"This had better be worth it," he said to no one as he pulled on his boots. The warm bed called to him, but the Captain had given an order so he made his way out the door.

What is he thinking? Quickstar thought as he started down the empty corridor. The handful of men that made up the crew were still planetside drinking themselves into oblivion. He could tell his Captain had done the same. Quickstar preferred the extra credits he received by choosing to be the one who stays onboard for first watch after cargo drop. He had no itch to get off the ship, it was where he belonged. He had known that since his first day of Space Force boot camp. As he made his way to the cockpit, he was having a hard time waking up. He stopped in at the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. The small shock to his body felt good. Instead of drying it off, he walked back into the hall and began to jog. The slight breeze on his face chased off even more grogginess. The dark cockpit lit up as he came in. He sat down in the pilot's seat and flipped on some controls. For once, he wished his chair wasn't so comfortable. It was going to be hard to stay awake. He flipped a switch and leaned in towards a small mic on his dash.

"Control, this is the Melville, requesting clearance for takeoff."

"Melville, this is control. I’ll run your scan. It looks like you’re cargo hold is empty and you’re the only one on board. Is this correct?"

“Yes sir. I’m not sure why we’re leaving before loading our next haul, just following orders over here.”

“Understood. Okay, I just need to log your destination then.”

“Oh right. I’m sorry to have bothered you control, I do not know what that is.”

“Once you do, contact me again and I’ll clear you for departure.”

“Thank you control.”

“Are you in trouble son?”

“No sir,” Quickstar said and then turned off the link, wishing he had any confidence that his answer back was correct. As he prepared the ship ready for takeoff a little window popped up on his main display letting him know the captain had come onboard through the main exterior door. This isn’t going to be pretty, Quickstar thought. He knew well that Captain Hesse wasn't a mean drunk, or even a funny one, but a man who lost all judgment when he had a few too many. Quickstar heard the patternless footsteps coming down the corridor.