The Drigon's Fall

"Computer, record," Dawson Lang ordered as he laid back on the cot in his quarters and tucked his hands behind his head as he crossed his legs at the ankles. "This is personal log number three, three, nine, nine, two of Captain Dawson E. Lang of the IPA Drigon."

He heard the computer beep in acknowledgement of his statement then he began recording his log. "I am currently six months and three days away from retirement after a four-year term of service in the Interplanetary Alliance, though military life was never something I had planned to partake in. When I hit rock bottom, I found myself faced with two choices--join the Alliance or join the space pirates." He paused and shifted his weight on the bed. "I look horrid in eye patches, so I opted for the more noble of the choices. If only I had known then what I know now, I may have chosen differently.

"Insubordinate. How many times have I heard that word associated with my name? So I prefer to wear jeans to the Lycra regulation uniforms. Not everyone likes that funky material, and it itches like the blue blazes." Dawson scratched his head and sighed. His choice in wardrobe wasn't the reason for this log.

"Today we find ourselves returning to spaceport to pick up the newest member of our crew--Dr. Meredith Carson. Damn General McAllister. He knows I didn't want any women onboard my ship, that's why he deliberately gave me this assignment then ordered me to not let anything happen to her. Like I have time to baby-sit the general's pet project. With my luck, she's fresh out of medical school and as green as the Nebula Eight moon."

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "I guess it's my own fault, really. If I hadn't called him a spineless Jardalian, maybe he wouldn't be choosing this moment to exact his revenge. All I ever wanted was for him to leave me alone. The moment we first met, the man had it out for me. Though I suppose I didn't help it any by telling him that he had no business commanding a fleet when he obviously didn't know his left from his right hand. Of course, he had insinuated that I couldn't fly. I suppose it's a no-win situation where the general and I are concerned."

Dawson stood and paced the room. "What am I going to do about our new doctor? I don't want her onboard ship, and I certainly don't want to fly halfway across the galaxy this close to retirement on some bullshit assignment, but what choice do I have? If I don't go, I won't get that final commission I need to make renovations on the Drigon and get her ready for reentry into the shipping business. At least in that line of work, I don't have to deal with pompous windbags like the general."

He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. It would do no good to get angry, and rant and rave about the general any more than he already had. "Maybe I'll get lucky and our Dr. Carson will be ugly as sin and stay locked in med lab the whole time she's here."

Dawson stuffed his hands into his pockets and moved to look out the window at the millions of stars passing by. "And there is no way in hell I could be that lucky." He turned away from the window and headed for the door. "Log complete," he said before stepping through the door out onto the bridge.