Background Logs

[MajorZStarDust 0]

Our always intrepid Miss Riker found some old logs stashed away and sent them along. I think they might be helpful to those of you who haven't been here since Moose was an Ensign. :o

 

For those of you that have been here.. You might remember that the *Buttebyte* came from RL events on the way to Vegas.....

 

Subj: The Best Laid Flight Plans....

Date: 9/4/00 3:11:14 PM Eastern Daylight Time

From: FLt Z StarDust

 

 

The Best Laid Flight Plans

First Lt Ziggy StarDust

Lt j.g. Marty Umberti

Onboard the shuttle *Buutebyte*

 

The shuttle lifted smoothly off the deck and headed out the bay dooors. Ziggy coordinated with Jeremy at OPs, leaving the flight plan, saying one last goodbye. Marty waited til they had cleared Arcadian space, then pushed the little shuttle to warp. With the route mapped out, Marty engaged the auto-pilot, and then leaned back in his seat.

 

"Ready for the Marines?" He grinned at his friend. While he was glad to see Ziggy was moving on, he also hated to see him go.

 

"Are the Marines ready for me?" Ziggy grinned. He was going to miss Marty too. Outside of Dana, Marty was his best friend, the one person he could count on to set him straight.

 

"Not with that mask on, they ain't." Marty frowned, still unable to understand why Ziggy was wearing the horrid thing.

 

Slowly Ziggy pulled it off. "Guess it can come off now. It was mostly for the crew, the kids, on the Arc." He took a deep breath, realizing that he had, in a way, been hiding behind it.

 

Climbing back from the small cockpit, he tossed the mask into the recyler, then ordered two synthahol drinks from the replicator. There was no question of having the real stuff, they were flying and needed all their senses, even if they would be relying on the auto-pilot for most of the trip. Who knew what could happen.

 

Taking the drinks with him, he slid into one of the two bench seats along the walls that served as seats, beds, and luggage racks. Folding down the table that fit between the two seats, he pulled out a battered tin case and set it on the table, along with the drinks. Inside were two decks of well worn cards, rows of chips tucked into special holders, and a carefully folded square of green baize, with tiny weights sewn into the edges to hold it flat. Spreading the cloth on the table, he began to count out chips. Marty came back and slid onto the other bench. Taking a deck of cards, he began to shuffle.

 

They played poker for several hours, Marty telling Ziggy some of the more interesting tidbits of Marine life. In turn, Ziggy told Marty some interesting tidbits about Dana as a child. They spoke of nothing serious, like the relationships with the girls.

 

After some time, Ziggy stretched out on the seat to sleep. Marty played solitatire for awhile, deciding he was better off with poker. Tired of cards, he slipped out of his seat and back into the cockpit, if nothing else he could run some tactical simulations.

 

When he took his seat what he saw was enough to make any sleep hiding in the corners of his brain flee in terror. They were off course. A few quick checks showed they had somewhere turned 38 degrees, not all at once, but slowly over the last several hours. The scariest thing about it was not that they had veered off course, but what could have been in the flight path of the tiny shuttle to smash them to smithereeens, or fry them, or obliterate them.

 

He began to wonder if they would make it at all....