We far surpassed all original expectations, completing the first ever (scale) chopper millennium!
(THIS JUST IN: Fleet Admirals can't do math.)
Excess joined us on the launchpad, but did not ride the mission. However, he was present for the sunrise, of which we have Official Footage. The first sunrise was interrupted by the return of the glorious centurions, who had abandoned their plans for the double century and instead gone for the fastest chopper century in SCUL history, returning in under 13 hours. You pilots are crazy!
Our first wormhole shortcut was closed, so Wombat improvised a route around and through Danehy Park, where we raced around the track. The Fleet Admiral had a large head start and won by a half length. Ahem. After that, we did a flyby of some strange inanimate watchers, surreptitiously squirreled away behind the Luna Apple Cinemas. Turbulence was rough but the life support mix was smooth as the fleet did a loop around Fresh Pond, and some wished they had packed warmer space suits.
AceHole showed us the location of a secret lookout above the pond, with a ledge and a sheer drop for all your daredevil needs. There, we hailed the sunset and took Official Footage to prove it. From there, we flew back through Harvard Square under a sweet new laser installation and past Wombat's buddies, but didn't stop for hot snacks there - instead, we jumped into a wormhole that took us a few light-years along the edge of the Charles Asteroid Belt towards the Boston System, through narrow straits and over wooden bridges. A few pilots took turns flying Rapscallion while we stopped by some unnecessarily gendered TURDISes, and she was deemed either "awful" or "wonderful." My money's on the second but I don't have any HARV aspirations so I'll maybe never know.
Our next priority: hot snax at a 7-11. The Mother Church behemoth was under construction and flying through proved tricky, so many pilots space walked. Pilots groaned when the appointed 7-11 proved to be nothing but a devilish mirage, and we flew a few more light-years and hit a few more dead ends in the also under construction MIT Constellation. Finally we found a real 7-11 with real fake hot cheese and real hot chocolate, though the Oreo Mint flavor was deemed to be akin to making love in a canoe.
And at last, butts sore and bellies full, we returned to the launchpad. Total (scale) light years chopped: 1251.0208!