And now my narrative comes to the greatest of the astral juggernauts, the rorqual of the breed (if you will permit my indulgence), that monster which the Charioteers dub "Space Dreadnought."
How to begin? Shall I say that a mountain was calcified in layers of glimmering metal, and wrenched from its moorings by the hand of a god, and hurled bodily into space? Shall I speak of the myths of Old Urth, and the primal titans whose bones were worshipped as progenitor deities? And this brings to mind an archaic proverb from the ancient nights of Holy Terra, to the effect of "Shalt thou tame leviathan with a hook?" Yea, O apostates of the Guilds, I think that disporting with such brutes as these will prove your end one dark interstellar midnight, and I shall shed no tears.
Yet, just as in the ancient seas of Urth, the leviathan alone could descend into the lightless depths to battle the terrible squids therein, so can we children of the Diaspora but hope that this questionable tool might one night cleave the starless darkness and scourge the Void Krakens that bedevil the spaceways.
