Century 2012

The atmosphere was cool despite the day star being out this clear
autumn morning. As pilots trickled in to fort airspace prior to the
early morning launch, they were pleasantly surprised to find Fleet
Admiral Skunk busy making preparations, who after a last minute
change of heart decided to join us on our hundred light year journey
of pain and suffering! 13 pilots lined up on the 13th of October in
(not even) 13 degrees (Celsius) temperature to be counted prior to
launch ("What could go wrong?" –Fleet Admiral). A sleepy yet
somehow energetic PO Zygoat sent us off with words of adoration, as
the fleet launched close to on time.

The first few light years were slow going, especially when we got
trapped by 2000 civilians spacewalking in the opposite direction
along the Charles asteroid belt. We slipped past them and headed up
the planet through the Watertown and Waltham systems, and continued
toward the Weston and Concord systems.

On the way to our first stop, Vomit expressed her true feelings about
the 2012 election via a maneuver performed with swift, clean, and
graceful execution. Following that, an oil-powered chopper of the
sporty variety traveling at high warp passed by, while the pilot
mirrored our food-molecules-fueled propulsion units (i.e. legs) as
SCUL pilots dissolved into laughter. We then stopped at Luna Dairy
Joy for refueling. What's this — a Pretty Princess couch in the
woods? Good enough for a catnap for our Admiral! Civilian Canine
units accompanied by Food asked questions and sniffed around our
business, and then we were off on our choppery way.

The fleet then headed through the Concord System where Diva departed
us. We continued to the Carlisle system and into the Bruce Freeman
wormhole to the Chelmsford and Lowell systems, where we stopped for
refueling and fuel dumping. At Zesty's Pizza Outpost, pilots were
educated on the historical significance of the Chelmsford Public
Library by a strange yet friendly civilian. Food molecules acquired,
we completed our round trip of the Bruce Freeman wormhole, with Skunk
and Wombat stopping to dip their toes in the Hart Nebula during a
brief pit stop along the way.

Back out of the wormhole we headed through the Acton and Boxborough
Systems up several seriously negi g-wells to Dr. Claw's parental
units' space station. Just prior to landing, a herd of horses
galloped across a field toward the fleet to curiously observe our
passing, one of which may have neighed. The Claws offered lots of
pizza molecules, salads, brownies, and a variety of beverages lined
up all nice and neat in the cryogenic unit. Our shore leave there
included tutorials on patio-building and ship storage installation,
featuring appearances by ships of the Seven and Indie Fab varieties.
The Claw Upper Level Fuel Dump Facility also came complete with a
window that overlooked the Level One Living Quarters, where fatigued
pilots were surprised to discover that we were but only halfway
through our mission.

As the Day Star retreated and after the century group stillcam moment
was acquired, we added layers to our spacesuits — including
Leotard's AwFuzzyBear Disguise — and headed down another
wormhole between the Hudson and Marlborough systems. This wormhole
included a stubbornly gentle negi g-well, Clifford's Litterbox, a
picturesque tunnel, and a wooden statue of a sad avian. Cloudbuster's
sonic disruptor played the most puzzling tunes throughout this
stretch of our voyage, one of which included heavy sighing that was
meant to be, perhaps, sexy. To all pilots' delight, our return trip
on this wormhole was quickly completed thanks to the posi g-well
activity.

Passing through Maynard, we made our final scheduled stop at Waltor
and Diva's fort for fuel dumping and refueling on hot rum cider and
cookies. Reverend Alfred von Baconstealer made an appearance and was
promptly escorted to a private chamber where he would be safe from
fading pilots stumbling about the fort. As we departed Maynard, the
rendezvous mission launched from the Somerville star system in an
effort to intercept and Bring [Us]
Home.

The final leg was mostly downhill, but still proved challenging. Upon
hackworth's purposeful butchering of song lyrics, y.t. suffered a
maniacal giggle attack that nearly choked the supply of oxygen to
her lungs, which temporarily dampened propulsion to her ship's
booster. The sudden appearance of One More negi g-well in the
Lexington system that surprised even our trusty navigator (courtesy
of Treekiller, it turns out, due to his unusually timed inheritance
of 6 million earth credits) did little to alleviate our overworked
bodies. MA-2 throughway was littered with turbulence, as each bump
sent shots of pain through our throbbing bottoms after prolonged
contact to our cockpits — with the exception of Treekiller,
who reported that the early promises of being able to pilot
Lorax "all night long" was in fact a legitimate claim.

The rendezvous folks intercepted us as planned, and we were making
excellent time down Mass. Ave. in Arlington Heights until light year
mark 98, when USB Skylab struck again... BAAAAAAAANE
THUNNNNNNNNDERFLAT!!! It was the only mechanical of the whole
mission.

Repairs took some time and involved efforts from many pilots, as
Skylab is notoriously temperamental when it comes to mechanicals.
When Bane Thunderwolf remounted the cockpit, Skylab was left with a
single gear to carry him through the final two light years of our
mission. Thoroughly exhausted, we landed just outside of the Fort
where Admiral Skunk wrapped up our 100-light-year journey with a
super short ceremony. All who attempted the century finished it. We
returned to the fort after spending about 15 hours and some change in
space.