Century Bendicorium Quo SCULibum Non Sit

Preparation started in earnest the night before. We preflighted our
ships and had them each double-checked by another pilot. Excess
overhauled Pale Horse's headset to address a creaking issue and
found
and replaced destroyed bearings in the process. Stogie and h4ckw0r+h
rigged up an ersatz radiobox on Vindaloo.



We got up early the next morning and met at the fort at 0900 to
finish
outfitting our ships for the long, convoluted journey to the Lowell
System. Zygoat brought homemade red bean buns and muffins. Wombat
didn't show up and we tried calling him a few times and were unable
to
reach him. We assembled outside the fort at 1000 and Treekiller
started mumbling some stuff about the upcoming mission. We were all
half-awake and a bit scattered but launched on time to the sound of
traditional chopper groove. Zygoat, Megaseth, and Moose all launched
with us, planning to ride the first leg and turn around once we
reached Bedford.



It was a gorgeous morning; the temperature was in the mid-60s and
the
sky was a rich vibrant blue punctuated by occasional white fluffy
clouds. The riding conditions could not have been better. We circled
around the Union Constellation and got a few thumbs up signs, but
the
food seemed mostly confused by our diurnal appearance. Once we hit
the bikepath the food was similarly unsure what exactly we were
doing,
although we did collect a few high-fives. JVH Lazarus rocked
chopper
groove and we had a pleasant trip to Trader Joe's in the Arlington
System.



We stopped at Luna Trader Joe's briefly to collect food molecules
for
lunch later on. Soccer moms and daughters abounded and sneered at
our
unconventional stylings. We stank up the place for a little while,
got
our chow, and left. Moose befriended a dog, and the food
enthusiastically commented on our spacecraft. One sprog was wearing
socks with guitars on it and they were neat. We distributed stickers
and continued on our way.



Shortly after leaving Trader Joe's we finally heard from Wombat, who
had overslept or something. We rapidly flew down the Minuteman
Wormhole and reached the Bedford end without incident. Luna Bedford
Public Library wants you to know that they have e-books, by the
way.
After a stop to dump fuel and say goodbye to our escort, we
continued
towards the Concord system. We mostly took surface roads, some of
which were under contruction and marked with signs encouraging
bicycles to use caution. It is a good thing we were flying
spaceships.
We arrived at a bustling farmer's market in Concord center, where we
stopped for lunch. Nosepicker stayed in frequent contact via
subspace
communicator with Wombat, giving him turn-by-turn directions.




During our lunch stop Dread Flint commented that the bow on One
Night
Stand was not responding properly to navigational directives from
the
helm. We examined the head tube and found that it had flared and
the
headset was squirting out from underneath it. The ship was no longer
worthy of spaceflight and would have to be returned to its docking
bay
for extensive repairs or decommissioning. Fortunately there was a
commuter rail station half a light year away. We decided to escort
Dread Flint there so that he could make his way back to the Fort
and
rendezvous with us later.



After consuming food molecules and distributing many stickers, we
spacewalked through the farmer's market and launched to a new
chiptune
playlist provided by Dr. Claw. At this point One Night Stand's bow
completely ruptured, separating the helm from the rest of the ship.
Fortunately One Night Stand hadn't accelerated past warp 0.5, and
Dread Flint simply stood up as the ship collapsed underneath him. We
piled the parts together into a wheelbarrow-like amalgam so that
Dread
Flint could spacewalk to the nearby commuter rail station.



After a tearful departure from Dread Flint we launched for the next
leg. The sounds of chiptunes, and Nosepicker relaying directions to
Wombat, permeated the early afternoon late summer air. After
departing
from the Concord System we encountered significant g-well activity.
We
had to spacewalk single-speed ships up a few negi g-wells. One of
us
purged auxiliary burrito-filled fuel tanks at the top of a larger
one. We had a moment of silence during the Great Purge and moved
on.




The Bruce Freeman Wormhole was even more enjoyable than the
Minuteman.
Food was few and far between. We spied the Heart Heavy Nebulae and
docked briefly for partial immersion and refreshments. The food was
impressed and in turn impressive, especially in the Way of the
Mullet.
While on shore leave here, Wombat managed to catch up, and then we
left.



We continued on the Bruce Freeman Wormhole for several more light
years and emerged in the Chelmsford System. After a few light years,
USB Devastation started leaking plasma from its primary thruster and
the fleet pulled into a mosquito-infested roadside for field repair.
Wombat immediately laid down and went to sleep. We removed the
thruster, patched the inner plasma casing, topped off the plasma and
were on our way.



A short 2 light years later we pulled into Bendy's space station,
where Human Melissa and Rear Admiral Bendy had laid out a spread of
lemonade, orange slices, bananas and an Elmo cake. We preflighted
our
ships again and then settled in to consume food and a few beer
molecules. Wombat went to sleep again. Bendy cooked up some space
weevils and we consumed a large number of them. Nosepicker
contributed
several tins of anchovies to the feast. We changed into warmer space
suits, then posed for a group shot and launched as the day star
was starting to fade.



A glorious sunset accompanied us as we retraced our steps. We
swapped
out chiptunes for an eclectic playlist run on Vindaloo's ersatz
radiobox containing (among other styles) pseudo-noise music,
fanfares,
and cartoon music, because that is how we roll. Chiptunes made a
brief
appearance again. And Stogie wiped out once or twice from
thruster-to-thruster contact, sustaining no serious injuries.




The fleet made good speed backtracking on the Bruce Freeman Wormhole
and continued without incident to the end of it. Cockpits were
starting to cause injury but this was tolerable. At the end of the
wormhole we stopped to consume more food molecules and change back
to
a chopper groove playlist on USB EZRaider's portable radiobox.
At one point two other radioboxes were started back up but this was
quickly squelched as pilots without radioboxes were subjected to
audio
torture while multiple radioboxes were running simultaneously. We
rocked primarily chopper groove until shortly before the Concord
System, where we switched to metal. Stronger stuff was needed to
sustain the fleet.



We entered the Concord System and rendezvoused with Dread Flint and
Retard. There was much joicing (we had not joiced yet that day) and
we
stopped for more food molecules. Pilots were fatigued and
monosyllabic. We distributed stickers nonetheless and impressed the
heck out of the food. Then we orbited a black hole a few times and
left. Metal.



We continued on to the Minuteman Wormhole to stop and dump fuel but
discovered that the airlocks on the fuel dumping stations were
secured. Since we didn't have the access codes we continued on to
the
wormhole and stopped along the way for a quick fuel dump. The
wormhole travel continued and the fleet spread out, with JVH Lazarus
rocking chiptunes near the front while MRG Vindaloo soothed us with
softer sounds near the back.



Shortly after the Lexington System we spied Cloudbuster's lasers
arcing through the trees. We stopped for a quick meet-and-greet and
continued on our way. We travelled very briefly with the rest of
the
fleet, but the two convoys did not successfully match warp speeds.
The centurions, hollow-faced, radiation sick, injured, delirious and
robotically driven, continued at maximum warp to complete the
remaining few miles.




We exited the Minuteman Wormhole, continued through the Cambridge
System, orbited Constellation Union, and landed back at Fort Tyler.
Treekiller closed the century with a few brief comments, we opened
the
airlock, damage tagged some ships, and then settled in to stare
vapidly at the walls and mechanically consume yet more food
molecules.
The rendezvous fleet rejoined us shortly, bringing many more food
molecules. We were fried, burnt, exhausted, hungry, in pain, and
happy
that we had achieved our goal. We trickled out of the fort slowly,
having completed the fastest century in SCUL history (~14 hours) and
within the span of a single calendar date.