Transit Phase
ZELTA 01: Arrival and Anarchy
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A lone red bulb beeped loudly from its spherical metal strap on, squeaking with a flash of light periodically. It drifted helplessly, no thruster was evident, no limbs, no ability to emote besides a crimson read light that went from lazy blip to an imitation of a heart having a panic attack. Just as it couldn't get any faster it had drifted next to another identical sphere, turning its blink into a single long glare.
"Permission granted, Prepare to dock in 5 hours. Any passengers that do not present their papers will not be allowed to leave. Do not open up the terminal until security is on board to sort out the masses"
A giant spear of junk was drifting listleesly pass the now former path of the sphere. A dot to a picture, the only thing stopping it from blending into its frame visually was that big, flashing red light as the words "TRANSIT: MAMMOTH 29" written in blocky, black font passed by. Millions of windows crossed the titans body like scales, segmentally and indescriminately all placed with a mathmatic indifference above one another, all of them connected to a tiny, dark apartment that would make a chronically depressed goblin thankful for their cave in the woods.
As the colossus slowly made its way two smaller, gold painted ships with the words "SECURITY" on top of their turtle backs hovered beside it before latching on like urchins to a whale stomach and loudly erected long tubes into its guts.
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This is where you lived for the last 6 years. When you first arrived, like many before you, it didn't seem so bad. Mammoth was large, large enough for anyone to find a spot for themselves. As the time went on the pale lights aggresively peered into you like a doctors pen light and when your eyes weren't being stung you were nearly stumbling in total darkness.
Your apartment complex was more akin to a broom closet given a bed, a tiny seperate shower and toilet. The walls were so thin and the metal halls so long that you could hear the cramped families echo all day and night as they argued. Six years of living in a 3 star, no 2 star, hell...fuck it...1 star hotel. You thought things were bad at home but Mammoth made you envy the homeless at times.
When you heard the speakers grizzle out a male voice at near screaming volume your anticipation almost overide the pain in your ears "All inhabitants, we are at our destination. Retrieve your papers and luggage, any luggage you leave behind will become property of the party. If you do not have your papers then any attempt to leave the ship will be met with fines...or violence...by the Authority's Vigilant Security forces"
You knew exactly what the rest of the day will be like.
The terminal hall was a massive unending grey tide of blarring lights from all directions and an air conditioning system that could barely kick a breeze across it's insanely large perimeter. In olden times the size of that place would be considered a dukes entire land, right now it was there purely for security check points, luggage conveyors and ENDLESS benches from wall to wall and to the horizon, even benches ontop of benches and occasionally the odd bed if you were quick enough. Despite its resources and size every chair will be full; every nook and cranny a person in it; and every foot of floor covered in someones luggage.
Still, soon you'd live to tell about your voyage on Mammoth 29...let's just hope you can say the same about ZELTA.
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