Snippet #2786133

The grating noise of tortured machinery screeched through the spaceship as it was carried along by the lunar waterfall, its engine still unleashing its great blue flame. At the helm, John's hand leapt towards the chadburn, swinging the handle towards the "Slow" sign on the other side. For the duration of the ride, John would swing the wheel this way and that, attempting to escape the pull of the current. When it became clear this wasn't going to work, he resolved to keep the wheel steady. When he saw the half-submerged clocktower, however, he swung the chadburn handle towards "Full, Astern" and renewed his efforts to veer off the collision course.
The ship then slowed, apparently thanks to the efforts of the figure on top of the tower, and plummeted into the waters below. As it crashed into the lake, huge bodies of steam leapt from the undersides of the S.S Victoria, and there was a final metallic moan as the tortured guts of the ship decelerated and cooled down.
A moment of silence passed within the hull, punctuated only by the lowering pitch of the engine's hum. Then, a voice cried, "I can't thee! I can't thee! I think I've gone blind!"
Another, gruffer voice croaked, "Shut up, Jack."
In the bridge, a prone John gripped the edge of the control panel and laboriously lifted himself up. Looking out, he could see the clocktower, although his current position denied him the ability to tell the time. His sights still on the tower, he reached for the gramocon horn and said, "Land ho, ladies and gentlemen. You can make your way to the exit now." Dropping the horn into its slot, he turned and made his way out.
The ladder that served as the main entrance and exit to the vessel was built (as much as the term could be used when dealing with the alien geometries of the S.S Victoria) to be a mere 300 feet away from the bridge. As such, while the Chosen Few were guiding the volunteers through a series of doors that would provide them with the shortest route, John was already by the hatch. As he climbed the ladder, he allowed himself a brief contemplation on the natives' reception of his maiden vessel. How far were the inhabitants of this world in terms of technology? Were they staring wide-eyed at a strange, metallic ship that was somehow given the ability to sail through the skies, or were they simply examining the works of obsolete technology, having designed aerial craft of sleeker build and more efficient machinery? Resolving that these questions will be answered in due time, he spun the wheel of the hatch and left the spacious vessel.

Even after what must have been only a few hours in the S.S Victoria, and even countless more hours beforehand during its time in the Teslatorium, John still had to adjust to the fact that, while the spaceship was a mile long inside, it was still merely 150 feet in length on the outside. His waist still under the opening, he took in his surroundings, noting the buildings of alien (or perhaps familiar) design, a rather large detail he would have noticed while airborne had he not been as occupied by the threat of collision with the tower. Turning back to the tower, finally noticing the red-carpeted bridge leading into the building, he endeavoured to discern the figure at the top of the clocktower who helped them make a safe landing. "Good day!" he cried out with a wave, climbing out. A metallic bellow from behind cut him off as all the exhaust pipes at the stern of the vessel belched a mass of blue vapour that curled in unusual shapes until it dissipated.
The skeleton turned away from the noise and said, "Don't worry! That's just the engine letting off excess steam! We come in peace!" If there were onlookers viewing him from the side or behind him, they may notice that he had his double-barrelled shotgun strapped to his back, which only served to sully his claims.