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The Arrow - In Death, as in Slumber

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A bit late with this one, but @Kali Nicholotti is out there setting us up for a fond farewell of a mission in her signature expert style.

Death, as a concept, transcended the very definition of life, and in doing so, encompassed even the inanimate that the living had come to feel for. The end was often filled with every bit as much emotion as any other part of the journey, but in some cases, it screamed with a silence that reverberated through the very bones of those connected. Even temporary repose, a quiescence of existence itself, created ripples that moved outwards from the core and through those who looked upwards.
Tiny ice crystals began to form on the outermost hull; it hadn't taken long for things touched by the inky void to succumb to the extreme chill that existed there. With the lights having faded, and the icy hand of death taking hold firmly, little tendrils of cold trailed from one crystal to another, connecting the glaze in a kind of natural and random connect-the-dots. As the seconds passed, the design took on a life of its own, as if whatever manifested on the hull had taken up art and was trying to speak to those who would listen.
Within, an incessant ticking of that which was left behind to the cold could be heard, louder depending on exactly where one was in the ship. Not everything that had been placed there was meant for the dip in temperatures that was slowly taking hold. Items creaked and crackled in protest, the internal structures adjusting to the new normal.
Footsteps were the only thing that gave credence to the idea that this state was not death. Softly padded noises from booted feet beat along like a dying heartbeat deep within the Arrow. Carried along, the means of reviving her swung in the open and ever cooling air that was quickly growing stagnant. Not a voice was heard, but the steady beat of the feet offered only a little hope of any sort of reversal.
Death, they said, was a darkness that could not be overcome. It was the great Cimmerian Shade that would catch everyone at some point, even those who were most long lived. Perhaps whoever they were had a good working theory, but were there not always exceptions to the rule?
Or were such exceptions simply a delay of whatever was to come.
Outside, the ice crystals were growing thicker, and though they could not be seen from afar, it was quite clear that the Arrow had fallen to the great slumber. It was a sort of temporary death, a prolonging of what the future inevitably held. And yet, no one could ever pinpoint just how long it would be prolonged. Together, many pairs of eyes looked up through the giant transparent aluminum of the station below, all of them seeking familiarity and hope, but few finding it in the dark.
Itself fading into the darkness of the void, the Arrow drifted ever so slightly, offering none a view of anything but what might be to come.
The Arrow
as simmed by:
Commander Ash MacKenna
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Arrow


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