If the onyx-skinned man is content to be left alone, then you are satisfied with leaving him alone. You stow your backpack and weapons under the available bunk before pondering where you would like to explore aboard the ship. You decide that knowing where you can go and how to get there would be a good idea, so you search your quarters for a datapoint. Unsurprisingly, you find one under a hatch sealed with the cogwheel symbol of your order. You wince when you glance down the dates of last performed maintenance (almost a century ago, far too long per regulations) but the datapoint grants you limited access when you activate your Elecro Graft.

The command prompt is surprisingly limited, refusing or rejecting the vast majority of the commands you attempt to input. Frustrated, you try the brute force method of simply calling for a list of all available files in your current directory. The list is brutally short, including only two files: one is a list of acceptable places for you to wander (your quarters, an observation dome, and the Ecleciarcy shrine to the God-Emperor halfway between the two) and a deck guide showing only the most direct route to and from each. The other file is a curt warning that deviating from the indicated route is strongly discouraged due to safety concerns. You consider the lack of maintenance on the datapoint you are using and decide that following the warning is a very good idea. Accordingly, you inload the deck guide to your dataslate, power down the datapoint, and set off for the observation dome.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

You pause in the doorway of your quarters and go back for the ammunition you left in your backpack. You don't think that you will need it, but it does you no good sitting in your quarters if it turns out that you do need it. That task completed, you consult the deck guide and head for the observation dome.

The observation dome proves to be on the bottom of the ship, giving you a clear view in almost every direction. The back of the ship is lit by the glowing plasma ejected from the main drive. By that illumination you study the gothic flying buttresses reinforcing the superstructure of the ship. Glancing past the glow, you can barely make out a smudge against the stars that you guess to be Gibil and Gibil 2. You turn to look towards the front of the ship and stare at the stars as they take on a blue tinge. You are puzzled, because stellar phenomena shouldn't change colors.

The voxhorn on the wall sputters, crackles, and then goes silent in a shower of sparks. You frown, unsettled by the continuing examples of poor maintenance aboard this ship. The armored shutters begin to grind shut, cutting off your view of the universe. You surmise that the message that the voxhorn failed to play was a warning of some sort. You start to leave the observation dome when you notice one of the shutters has jammed.