Saying a final prayer to the God of all willful atheists, whoever that may be, you open the cock pit and hope for the best as you submit to the current. You went rafting once on the river-etched 3rd moon of Loraqon 5, and you remember the instructor impressing upon you to always point your feet in the direction of the flow. You do this now for you find the waters moving through this pipe truly are rapids, at least at your size. They throw you violently sometimes left, sometimes right, always down, down, down. Without the ships lights your vision is reduced to black but the direction of the current is unmistakable and you angle your body this way always. You only strike the wall once but even this is too much, for it leaves you dizzy and bruised. Soon after, the sound changes from a contained to roar to a theatric bellow as it spills out into the light taking you with it.
Tumbling head over feet you catch several glimpses of what you came out of and it appears to be a faucet. 'But that would mean to these aliens I'm only.." The impact of the water below drives the thoughts from your mind as surely as it does the air from your lungs. For a while you float through the serene quiet blue of your surroundings, the shock of the experience still washing over you. When your brain starts ticking again you look about through your aqueous domain. For miles the water appears empty but there are great shadows looming in the distance in both direction. If that object really was a faucet then the vague silhouettes, comparable to underwater terrain, could in fact be the aliens. Perhaps you should try to make first contact. If this is their bath tub then that should definitely give you a social edge
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