isaster Flight through the Marsh: The Neutron Baron 9S is a Deathtrap!
Anyone considering, even for a nanosecond, traveling through the mists of Molavion Delta aboard the Neutron Baron 9S-read this at your own peril. Prepare for an intergalactic tale of frustration and downward warping.
I write this still trembling in a pool of neutron sludge, in the very heart of Molavion Delta, surrounded by the smoldering remains of what the factory promised as 'interdynamic spacefaring comfort.' Reader, the Neutron Baron 9S is NOT the ship you want if you ever hope to arrive, or even remain a coherent being!
Even before launch from Megamynska, the wreck seemed resolutely unusable. The onboard computers communicate solely in hierarchical council decrees and refuse any course correction unless you assemble a parliament of robot lawyers. The vapor filters clogged within minutes with muddy quantum tendrils, reducing visibility to a finger's width and transforming the onboard air into something between decayed ozone and molten plastic.
The autopilot, apparently programmed by descendants of the forgotten towers, instantly looped us over gravity wells from Sector R. My luggage is now officially an administrative probability. Fellow passengers (a sorry selection of gaseous beings and one lost jelly botanist) had to stow themselves in lockers to avoid diplomatic incidents with the maintenance staff.
The final straw: a sudden invasion of lightning bats (which did activate the alarm but only managed a soft Discreetly Misunderstood Regrettable beep-thanks to the algorithmic stone, or what was left of it). The emergency exit opened of its own accord, leading directly into the neutron marsh. All my space folds are now reduced to trivial, almost metaphysical wrinkles.