The Spaceship Wreckage
There is a moon ten times larger than other moons, in the light of abandoned industrial mines they visit this planet to view the spaceship wreckage, the command capsule of an expensive Camaro Class courier, crashed still as I am standing in some sandy puddle.
I approach cautiously, this wreckage could recently have fallen as sooner would pirates make sure pilots were not remaining.
There is a glow in scans, as well as hum midair.
The terminal in the controls will pay for a year of travels. A log file would help me feel better about selling it openly, or private buyers will not wonder who to tell I was the pirate.
With the technology from the wreckage built an industrial terrific sight, repurposing the mining equipment, which found elements and technology deep within the earth by its former inhabitants, soon came restructuring matter as a way of the great energy demand, the stars became an ocean to the Hiberians.
With the planet gradually becoming a cityworld orbiting a collapsing sun, Hiberia abandoned it's home for colonies on other planets.
Winterworld is an Obsidian Planet, surmise a glimmering world of shallow oceans and small mountains always snowcapped, easily mined and reprogrammed to the materials, standing in the hangar of on a snowy summer day as a flightcraft departs upward with the billow of snow the art of Interpretation.
The plateau is so long that the gravity at the other end is in another direction.
The science vessel is needed for reconaissance, now to the scrapyard third moon, the mud that gathers beneath rows of ships from around the Star Alliance, to make my scout ship look like a medical transport, for that the Maquis will need to help and want to pry.
Soon there is a score to settle with the Alliance.
