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tridental legacy
Our craft drifting listlessly through nebulous clouds, turning, turning in the beyond-frigid, the winds whipping across our collective brow, propulsion rendered useless by the sheer breadth of the thing, staring the pale horse in the mouth and counting teeth as time draws short, the terrible silence from the radio punctuating our descent into unknowable gaseous seas, grim expressions betraying nothing but utter regret at that which was unsaid, and which would remain so as the Trident drowned in the Mariner's depths
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