ludge on the Springs: The Disastrous Experience with the Korzond Delta-Class Spaceship
As a space hurricane, one expects fireworks-not steaming bureaucracy-from the latest ship out of the Archipelago of Korzond. Unfortunately, this Delta-class is chiefly an exercise in frustration and soggy disappointment.
As a space hurricane with spiral tentacle currents and a penchant for reliable transport, I expected the new Korzond Delta-class ship to at least glide gracefully across the mist-laden lakes and copper-red water halls of the Archipelago of Korzond. Alas: this vessel is little more than a floating disappointment, built on empty promises, overstated advertising, and the technical equivalent of tepid rainwater.
The promised self-regulating stability field proved, at the critical moment of a sudden fogstorm, to be worth little more than a bureaucratic amphibian’s laugh. Where I wanted speed, I got inertia: the ship slid like frozen sludge through the deliberation passages, each course correction interrupted by pointless conversations with the debate interface (which, ironically, cannot listen).
The interior was apparently designed by a committee of jelly citizens with no sense for long-haul comfort. The trail-slime trays are too small, the transparent windows afford views of nothing but dense administrative vapor, and every cabin carries the ever-present stench of overheated circuit-algae. As a final indignity: the hovering decree-drones, supposedly for safety, spent their time issuing fines for the faintest violation of tentacle placement.
Even the only advertised advantage-the Transfer Parade mode, said to adapt the ship to sharp seasonal shifts-turned out to be myth. During my crossing, the steering gyroscope snapped, forcing me to spend two cycles spinning helplessly in an eddy of bureaucratic lakes. My faith in Korzond engineering has been sucked into the depths along with the last of my protoplasm.