There's no place like home

[Jazzi]

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John Dunder's electronic classic Hagalund plays into the group's helmets via the musicbot that had joined their localised comms channel. A hull-cutting laser was mounted on a circular cutting frame on the wll before them. Its flaming blue beam melting the plating as it makes it circular path inch by inch.

The Aletheia's initial scans of the internal structure had picked up the larger spaces inside. Thallia's team had mapped out likely connections between them. None of them had counted on the chaotic ingenuity of it's previous occupants, Liberty's Rogues. For days, expeditions into the station had gone wayward, struggling to reach their intended section of the station. A survey operation had been launched, only to discover the internals of the station resembled a block of "just-add-water" brick-packed Kyushan noodles as their paths were mapped out on a holo-display. With tight-turns and chokepoints formed of piping criss-crossing walkways, a solution was needed to traverse the labyrinth to the section beyond.

The solution? Cut straight through to their destination. If they chose to stay, the circular cuts could be turned into a sealed thoroughfare. If they chose to leave? Well, who'd give two monkey's.

As the team takes hold of the freshly hewn piece of metal to pull it away from the plating, Thallia gazed into the abandoned world beyond. With debris floating hap-hazardly in zero-g, the spectre of scope creep reared it's ugly head.

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