Night Market Rendezvous *TOP SEKRET
On this calm, temperate Saturnight, pilots awaited a secret rendezvous with a mysterious roving bazaar, rumored to be congregating in an undisclosed region of deep space. Led by navigator Bane Thunderwolf, the battalion commenced in haste in order to make their appointment before the bells tolled for midnight, as rumour held that the market would vanish at that hour, retreating back into the undisclosed corners of the cosmos from whence it appeared. Excess debuted his ship Krampus, a beefy fighter with enhanced thruster capabilities, and a few pilots were dusted with ceremonial colored powder before setting off in pursuit of their clandestine engagement.
After traversing the Inman constellation, Bane navigated through a quiet corner of space, where at the end of a long straightaway there appeared a vast set of nostrils beckoning onward into the void beyond. Mustering the full power of their sonic disruptor array, the battalion surged forward and into the emptiness. Presently, they arrived at their destination, a gallery of astonishing delights masquerading as heavy transports. Pilots dispersed to visit the various merchants, including an exotic cheese cafe, a video game stall, and an obscure area billed as the ‘seizure truck.’. Colors lit up the night, as chalk and holi powder were deployed with abandon, and pilots chased each other in a game of tag. Rocket endeavored to discreetly lengthen the bow of USB Abandon all Hope while escaping the notice of that ship’s pilot, LordMcFuzz. Once this trickery was discovered, the adjustable fork was made even longer and various pilots tried their luck at keeping it in warp, without much success.
Amidst the revelry, a cavalcade of STs appeared in a burst of flashing lights.
What are you guys doing?
-Sir, we’re shortening this ship’s fork, sir. To make it safer.
I don’t care about your forks. What is all this? Who’s in charge here?
-We’re riding bikes! We were just leaving…
Fleet Admiral Skunk assembled the fleet for relaunch, waiting briefly for Dogi to emerge from one of the market stalls, and they quickly zigzagged their way to friendly airspace via a brutal negi g-well. After St Christopher suffered a minor mechanical, the battalion came to a halt under a hyperspace byway, where bread molecules were scattered like meteorites. Coming within close proximity of these stray foodstuffs piqued the pilots’ hunger, prompting the fleet to divert to Luna 7-11 to replenish supply stocks. Epoxy attempted to consume milk, only to be frustrated by several expired containers.
Navigator Bane plotted a course to a little-visited galactic training camp, where pilots showed their strength and flexibility on a variety of apparatuses that pivoted, glided, and spun. Several arm-wrestling tournaments were won and lost, and pilots enjoyed their extended shore leave with a tea party and acrobatics. After saddling up, the battalion entered into orbit around a particularly nefarious black hole, and shot off into the night to make their way back to the launch pad.