Totaled: Part 1

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Totaled

A Starship Fairfax Prequel Story, The Kuiper Chronicles

By Benjamin Douglas

Copyright 2017 Benjamin Douglas. All rights reserved. The author's permission is required for any reprinting, distribution, or recording of this content. All persons within are fictional and not intended to be representative of any real persons.

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The ship's computer was acting up again, Dolridge was sure of it. There was no reason for the unauthorized persons alarm to be going off. Not this far out from port. If there had actually been any unauthorized persons aboard, they would have been detected hours ago, back in the Kuiper Belt. There weren't any ways to get around the scans. So why was the computer insisting on telling him otherwise?

To aggravate his splitting headache, of course.

"Sir?" That new officer was looking at him again. Did she have to do that? No one else bothered anymore. They all had the courtesy to look at their feet and pretend they hadn't seen the red circles around his eyes, the patches of stubble on his face. Around the rest of them he'd learned not to care what his face said, what his posture betrayed. But now she was looking at him, and something inside told him to sit up straight and project confidence. If only he could remember how.

She cleared her throat.

Right. The alarm was still going off.

"Yes, officer..." He squinted at her, trying to recall her name. Yeah, right. As if there was room for new names in his omelet of a brain.

"Caspar, Sir." She saluted. He grimaced, but returned it. "Shall I send a squad to check that out, Sir?"

He squinted again. "Squad?"

"Security, Sir."

Oh. Right.

He waved a hand. "Sure. Send the techies while you're at it, though. More likely a crossed wire than a stowaway."

She nodded. "Yes, Sir."

He watched her punch in a few commands at her console. She was good at her job, he had to give her that. It was odd, seeing someone display competence. Maybe he'd been floating on the fringes in this tin can for too long. Too many hours lost in the bottom of a flask.

Or far too few.

"Officer, um..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall the name she had just given.

"Caspar, Sir."

"Right. Caspar, you have the bridge."

"Sir?"

"I'll be in my cabin until o'eight-hundred."

"Aye, Sir." Her eyes refocused on her console. Good. Keep them there, Caspar. Let an old man keep what little dignity he had left while making excuses to go lose himself in his cups.

He probably shouldn't be leaving the bridge—not when the Captain had left him in charge of the ship. But where was the need for an XO when there were no orders to give? Nothing interesting was going to happen on this trip. It never did.


(to be continued 6/20/2017)

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