<strong>Name:</strong>Crew of Cargo Shuttle 430<br/><strong>Date:</strong>March 10, 2032<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Approaching Aluce spaceport<br/><strong>With:</strong>T'chak<br/><hr/>The helmsman of Cargo Shuttle 430 whistled softly to himself. He knew his co-pilot disliked that, but what was wrong with whistling a little tune? Just this one trip to the moon again, back to Earth, and they would both be off duty for a month. A day or two and they would have finished another six month tour of ferrying stuff and folks between here and there and everywhere. That called for a little festive mood.<br/><br/>*beep* *beep* *beep*<br/><br/>The radio jarred the pilot out of his musings, just before he could begin to wonder how much of his vacation he wanted to spend micronized.<br/><br/>"Mule Four Three Zero. ... Go ahead, Aluce Control..."<br/><br/>The pilot listened, repeated the message on the radio to someone in the control room of Moon Base Aluce, signed off. His lips moved silently, while his eyes scanned the instrument panel. Autopilot still engaged. Approach vector looking good. Engine nominal. Green light on all secondary systems. The ship would be fine for a few minutes without him.<br/><br/>He rose out of his seat and looked down at his navigator. "Gonna relay this message. Should only take a moment."<br/><br/>The co-pilot just grunted. He knew just as well as the pilot that there was little to do for either of them for now, even as the moon grew a little larger in front of the cockpit windows with every passing minute. And everything was better than that stupid whistling. Music wasn't bad. In fact music was one of the best things in life, the navigator thought. And that was what made that whistling so darn annoying. If the pilot could whistle any more off-key he would trun full circle and perhaps arrive back on key, but, alas, in all the nine months they had flown together that had never happened.<br/><br/>But one had to endure. It was better then being shot at in a flimsy battlepod. Better, but not all that much better.<br/><br/>* * * * *<br/><br/>The pilot walked down the short corridor aft of the cockpit, wondering if he shouldn't have just paged his sole passenger over the intercom, but he had a feeling this was the kind of thing that should be said in person, even if the message was innocuous enough. And yet, and yet... And perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to get away from that tone-deaf co-pilot of his who had no ear for music whatsoever.<br/><br/>Oh well. One had to endure. Ours is not to reason why and all that jazz. He sighed softly, just before the door to the spacious cargo compartment slid open.<br/><br/>Cargo 430 was primarily a bulk hauler, but between the crew section and the cargo compartment six passenger seats had been installed, three port, three starboard. Only one of the seats was currently occupied.<br/><br/>"Sir? We are about twelve minutes out from Aluce. Base command just called and they would like you to report to Personnel at your earliest convenience, sir."