There's a saying in SCUL: Day missions stink. Well not this time, sucka!
Conditions were favorable for space travel (whatever that means), and
all souls reported posi times. Our destination and mission objective is
classified, but I'll tell you anyway. To the Old Schwamb Mill in the
Arlington System; a pre-OSHA mill that's been continuously operating
since civil war times! DANGER!
The mission launched at the appointed hour, but what was with all that
solar radiation? We stumbled into some part of the universe that was
ultimately a lot brighter than we're used to in space. Note for day
missions: avoid crispy crispy pilots and take proper precautions.
Despite sirens and the arrival of unfashionably red flame security
vehicles, Walt0r led us on a fabulous mission.
On the way we robbed a lemonade stand (which actually only had water),
taught the proprietrixes about advertising and complex intracies of
the chain of supply and demand in a capitalistic society, and ate at
the five star resturaunt at the end of the wormhole knows as "Chez
Trader Joes". The spandex-clad locals had many questions about our
ships. We lied as much was we could and moved on.
Pilots were perplexed and amazed by the lathe and other tools of
wonder from planet earth's early industrial practices, and no one lost
any fingers while poking and prodding the machinery, though one air
release hatch sent Mars on a search for medibag. There was a great
poem found on an ad pasted to the walls upstairs in the mill that
deserves sharing, from the now defunct Highland Spring Brewery:
When I'm perplexed, worn out and vexed,
And earthly joys seem few,
I take a glass of STERLING ALE,
And so my friend, should you.
Other than Pywacket dropping out of warp we were maechnical free. His
driveplate alignment may have been out of phase, causing the
propulsion transfer conduit to lose containment. What3v4.,