Captain Flane to the bridge!” A voice called over the intercom at his bedside. Flane stirred, pondering the degree of necessity that might motivate him to do more.

Captain Harald Biscay rubbed his graying temples, staring deep in thought at the vast star field showing on the large navigation display on the bridge. It had been a pretty rough few days for him. Of all the things he’d seen in his travels through the universe, not many rated worthy of being remembered. Of the few examples of items Captain Biscay rated that highly, when he was a young man, his uncle would often play the bagpipes at strange hours of the night – shortly before being put in a ‘home’. That rated a mention.

On any given day, Ossifar Distana carried around 5000 passengers, the actual figure varying slightly depending on where she was on the vast elliptical cruise that took her around the Terran Empire. When she entered the system she carried 4984 passengers, 500 crew, one dead body and one very puzzled Captain.

The bulkheads were close together, the ceilings low above their helmets. Not much space in there to waste aboard the older ships. Every millimeter of plating cost money in the old days, before the New Economic System usurped the old. Every possible bit of space went to the carrying of cargo, or ‘payload’ as it was called.

Ortez sauntered over to the nearest wall intercom. "Bridge, this is the captain -- what the hell's going on up there? I didn't schedule a combat drill for today." Hell, it occurred to him -- he hadn't scheduled any kind of drill for at least four months. On the other end of the line, young 2nd lieutenant Cedric Pankow, the com officer, let it fall.

Joe!” he groaned, attempting to speak clearly. “Joe! Good ol’ Joe!”
“Captain, you’re drunk!” Lofflin said, stating the obvious while trying to keep his voice level. Blaine grinned at him lopsidedly and giggled, almost choking. He slapped the table, knocking his empty glass over.
“Ye-ss, I am! Don’t ssup-pose you – think I co-uld ssit here an’ calmly wait t’die – dýou? Weee-ll, not ssob-er anyway. Ha ha ha.”
Disgust and hopelessness were swelling inside him. He felt like punching that drunken face till it was either sober or unconscious.
“Damn it, Captain! We need you – the crew needs you! You’re turning your back on them – in our most desperate time!