Red Light Hustle

Operation Dawn Patrol had been aborted as radiation warnings loomed, but six hardy pilots and two enterprising maggots made their way to the launch pad for a standard ops mission. Lord McFuzz eagerly volunteered as acting mission leader, piloting the luminous JVH Trinity which continues to stand in for USB Cloudbuster as repairs progress. The fleet welcomed back maggots Proteus and Johnny 5, and navigator Dr Claw promised a tightly run mission to the hallowed Pear, with no unnecessary digressions or egregious g-well activity. The rest of the battalion nodded uncertainly and checked their gear and preparations with extra care.

After a quick launch briefing, we headed towards Davis Constellation, where Lord McFuzz promptly failed the mission by breaking Trinity’s rear reflector apparatus. It was swiftly hustled back into functionality by Threespeed, and off we went, now unencumbered by the pressure to succeed. We stopped at a familiar refueling station on Mass Ave where we rendezvoused with Excess and admired his sleek civilian ship. It was a straight shot down to the hyperspace byway, whereupon commenced a hideous stretch of territory marred by excessive red light interference and unbearable eurotrash. We were within striking distance of the our desired destination when radiation struck and the battalion halted in order to don protective gear, save for Wombat, whose customary shorts form their own sort of force field. We finally made landing at the great bronze fruit, confusing Proteus who had misheard the initial briefing and assumed we were making for a Pier. Snacks were procured and we earned the blessings and admiration of a passing civilian.

Our return route was characterized by heavy radiation and sporadic turbulence as we wended our way through unfamiliar regions of the Boston system. Of course, Dr Claw’s navigational protocols would not be complete without a series of unnecessary maneuvers through narrow passageways and tight corners. The fleet handily executed these formations on a number of occasions, though Dead Bride did have a minor disagreement with a stationary object and dumped Catastrophe towards the end of the mission. Soaked in the pants but high in spirits, the battalion returned to the launch pad and congratulated each other on failing early and not too hard, and otherwise having a good time.