Stoner Steve and the Quest for the Cheesy Poof

[Stoner_Steve]

Steve was hungry, mind you this wasn’t his body simply telling him it was time to consume energy, no, this was a drug induced hunger, of which only one item would satisfy. He stretched and poked his head out of his handwoven, fair trade, cruelty free llama wool blanket and fumbled around until his hand hit the light switch. The flight deck and living area lit up slowly in a rosey green hue that he favored. Steve giggled to himself when his eyes finally focused and saw how hazy the little freighter was. He rolled off of his hammock and stretched to his full height of just a hair over 6 feet. He could have been an imposing figure, if he had an ounce of muscle or fat on him.

Steve plopped into the flight deck. While pushing his blond hair out of his face he fumbled for a moment with a tablet until the his information was entered correctly. His cargo manifest and traffic pattern loaded on the screen, he rubbed his eyes again before pinging his neural net calling out on a secured channel to his usual escort, Wally. While waiting for a response Steve loaded another synth weed cartridge into his pipe. He started to draw deeply while reading his flight plan. He glanced at his neural net again and sighed, “Wally musta found a comfy place on the bar to sleep, ah well”. Steve's fingers danced across the control panel, and the Anki shuttered to life. He browsed the preflight checklist in a foggy haze while the engines warmed up.

Steve attempted to look out the window but was surprised by his own reflection, the blast shield was still down. He pressed the key to raise the shield and squinted out into the well lit hangar bay. Satisfied that he had the place to himself this early in the morning he donned his headset and driving gloves. He keyed the mic and zoned out momentarily before realizing he was broadcasting, ”Ahh F-” he released the mic muttering curses trying to sort through the haze of sleep, “Uhh, right! um, Cambridge Research Station, this be the Siberia, requesting to launch airlock 2”, a burst of static preceded the controller's reply “Siberia roger, cleared to launch airlock 2, autopilot engaged, have a nice flight” “Cleared to launch CS-Siberia, like thanks man!”

Steve watched his ship controls until the stations anti-grav systems started to pull the freighter towards the airlock. He eagerly rubbed his hands together as the heavy steel door sealed behind his vessel and the countdown timer indicating his launch started to count back from ten. As it neared zero Steve’s mind was made, he had a hunger, a craving, for cheese...

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