Pilots must be logged in to see the briefing.
* Each pilot to bring, find, or visit one or more spheres
* Ponder our orbs
* Orbit 3 black holes
* >1 pilots to perform the SCUL March
Mission SummaryGet in losers, we're going to Castle Island
Many pilots are off duty this long Earth "weekend", when a small and valiant strike force assembled at Fort Madison, ready to patrol the spacelanes. It's approximately SCUL, and as everyone knows the fastest approximation to a SCUL pilot is a unit
sphere, and here we are.
Squaring the tesseract we launched, with new navigator Cosima to the fore and orbs in the cargo holds. (Except Wombat whose sensorial orbs were (and we hope remain) in his cephalic node.) We flew past a horde of zombies crashing MIT's graduation ceremony, through busy downtown Boston, and to an excellent snaxateria there to acquire orbicular cheese, spherical lobster puffs (enlarged to show texture), softly rounded mochi, etc unsavory closed 2-manifolds. We made a short halt at the Pear, pausing to encircle its delicious rondure with our hu-man bodies, and proceeded thence to Castle Island without incident.
Here Wombat and Leotard earned Medals of Naked (dropping without trace into their infinity naked pools), we ate snax including NOVA's fruity orbs of pommelo and blueberry, and Leotard exhibited siliceous "art" orbs. We tightened NOVA's primary hub, strapped her somehow loose yet also jammed coaster strap, and congratulated ourselves on getting this far with a very minimal toolbag *pats self on back for deciding to bring cone wrenches*. In celebration we executed the SCUL march at regular, double, triple, and half time for good measure.
With five minutes called though no one yet saddled up, BANG! it's a random explosive decompression! Abracadaver's primary thruster is the fault. Back to mechanicsville, and it seems the sidewall blew out for no reason. Do we have a 26" plasma torus? We do. A boot? Yep that too. *Sprains arm patting own back* there exists a solution to this compression conundrum. We winkled out the plasma casing sideways (being too chicken to disconnect the 7-speed space shifter), replaced, booted, recompressed. Rolling on eggs, we commenced to fly casual home.
All went well: we looped some more round features, easily exceeding the mission parameter of 3, and including the cyclopean and arc-heavy Rowe's Wharf pavilion. Full credit to the navigator! We stopped at the Aquarium to admire ellipsoidal sealbeasts, then cruised without incident to the Market Basket landing pad, there to close another fine mission.