Trade Era 1235, Day 168. 05:49 UTC
Celestial Voyager, Approaching the Drowned World (Neptunia)
The
Celestial Voyager drifted into the shadow of Neptunia in the early hours of the morning, the
Sentinel a quiet escort behind them. The planet loomed ahead, its surface a shimmering sphere of blue, vast and unbroken by any landmass. Neptunia's sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shafts of pale light across the water world, the reflection gleaming like a polished sapphire.
Captain Valeria Zaytsev stood at the bridge, gazing down at the planet. It was a world she had heard about only in passing—a place of forgotten history and uncertain future. Her eyes narrowed as the shimmering surface revealed the ghostly outlines of derelict cities, the remnants of a once-great civilization that had lived and thrived on the ocean.
"Neptunia," she murmured, almost to herself.
"They say its a world where the sea devours all."
Lt. Douklan Paravides was beside her, looking at the navigation readouts. His face bore the fatigue of the long chase with the pirates, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes as the blue planet came into view.
"Poseidon starbase is within range, Captain," Douklan said, his voice low.
"ITC Navy's Second Fleet headquarters is broadcasting a docking signal. They’re expecting us."
Valeria nodded, her gaze never leaving the viewport.
"Good. Hank, please inform them we’re requesting clearance for docking. We want to do some repairs and a full systems check."
Hank relayed the message as the ship descended towards Neptunia’s orbit. Below them, the vast ocean seemed unnervingly calm, a deep and endless expanse that swallowed the horizon. Here, in this remote part of the system, there were no bustling spaceports or sprawling cities—just the navy, the quiet solitude of the sea, and the haunting remnants of a society long gone.
"Captain, we’ve been cleared for docking," Douklan reported.
"Poseidon starbase is prepping a repair bay for us."
A soft sigh escaped Valeria’s lips, the tension easing. At about the same time,
Corbin stepped onto the bridge, his hands covered in grease from the engines he had been tending to. Behind him,
Mercer and Peter followed closely, both looking equally worn from the long hours of labor but ready for whatever came next.
OOC:
Time for some conversation, roleplaying and impressions about the chase. What do you do?
Captain Zaytsev
