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current_story:the_sword_of_ophiuchus_part_1

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current_story:the_sword_of_ophiuchus_part_1 [2021/03/07 05:18] cromwellcurrent_story:the_sword_of_ophiuchus_part_1 [2021/03/07 05:26] cromwell
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 "Not unless you can hold your breath," the doctor remarked curmudgeonly.  "In about an hour, we won't have enough power for our OWN life support..." "Not unless you can hold your breath," the doctor remarked curmudgeonly.  "In about an hour, we won't have enough power for our OWN life support..."
  
-Despite his discouraging words, to the docking levels they went, searching the topmost docking bay first before working their way downward to the bottom.  Each were expansive berthing complexes of nearly one cubic kilometer in volume, replete with numerous but unpowered magnetic mooring projectors and gangway ramps.  However, of the first eleven bays explored, only six contained any vessels, and each were in such disrepair that they were effectively useless.  One bay contained a pair of Intrepid-class starships, but they were unpowered, and their antimatter bottles floated haphazardly around the docking complex, automatically ejected some time ago.  The ships themselves had long ago collided into one another, ripping apart their primary hulls, while simultaneously embedding their warp nacelles into the walls.  Another docking bay contained an impressively-sized cargo ship.  However, nearly all the cargo containers had broken loose, and had impacted into the walls of the bay, as well as crushing the habitable portions of the remaining tug.  One by one, their prospects dimmed, finding the magnetic moorings in each bay deactivated, leaving the gravimetric instabilities of the station's erratic orbit around the star to stir up the contents within and allowing the dislodged vessels to pulverize themselves over time.  It was clear that whatever had occurred to place the base into such a state of dilapidation had happened years ago, leaving ample time for the unmoored craft to indiscriminately grind themselves into nothing more than floating heaps of garbage.+Despite his discouraging words, to the docking levels they went, searching the topmost docking bay first before working their way downward to the bottom.  Each were expansive berthing complexes of nearly twenty five million cubic meters in volume, replete with numerous but unpowered magnetic mooring projectors and gangway ramps.  However, of the first eleven bays explored, only six contained any vessels, and each were in such disrepair that they were effectively useless.  One bay contained a pair of Intrepid-class starships, but they were unpowered, and their antimatter bottles floated haphazardly around the docking complex, automatically ejected some time ago.  The ships themselves had long ago collided into one another, ripping apart their primary hulls, while simultaneously embedding their warp nacelles into the walls.  Another docking bay contained an impressively-sized cargo ship.  However, nearly all the cargo containers had broken loose, and had impacted into the walls of the bay, as well as crushing the habitable portions of the remaining tug.  One by one, their prospects dimmed, finding the magnetic moorings in each bay deactivated, leaving the gravimetric instabilities of the station's erratic orbit around the star to stir up the contents within and allowing the dislodged vessels to pulverize themselves over time.  It was clear that whatever had occurred to place the base into such a state of dilapidation had happened years ago, leaving ample time for the unmoored craft to indiscriminately grind themselves into nothing more than floating heaps of garbage.
  
 As they reached the bottom-most docking bay, their spirits were weighed down by the prospects of dying in such a desolate place; buried alive by their own failure to find any habitable refuge for them to escape to.  Saal's power indicators had reached critical as they blasted the door to the dockmaster's control room on the twelfth and final docking level.  As the warning lights went into the red, he shook his head in defeat. As they reached the bottom-most docking bay, their spirits were weighed down by the prospects of dying in such a desolate place; buried alive by their own failure to find any habitable refuge for them to escape to.  Saal's power indicators had reached critical as they blasted the door to the dockmaster's control room on the twelfth and final docking level.  As the warning lights went into the red, he shook his head in defeat.
current_story/the_sword_of_ophiuchus_part_1.txt · Last modified: 2021/08/08 14:43 by cromwell