Several repair drones awaited you on the drydock.
As the water drained out of the lock, a gangway was lowered to the port side access, allowing you to disembarked your wounded craft.
As you disembark, you see the scale of the damage.
It actually wasnt that bad, it just felt that way under full power.
A gash had been breached into the hull, below the waterline, but it was a fairly clean breach and shouldn't take too long to patch up.
Cost however, was another issue.
As you stand by the craft, two bleary eyed police officers approach, wearing the livery of the british transport police.
"Good evening sir, or is it good morning now? Do you mind following us to the harbour masters office and starting from the top? We need to know evertyhing about this evening's events."
The rain began to ease up as you made your way down the docks, a small convoy of repair drones providing the only traffic heading back to the craft.
To your left a small collection of commercial and pleasure craft rolled at anchor, with a series of jettys on the far side serving as mooring for a selection of high-end yachts and house boats.
Ahead of you, beyond the young policeman leading the way, was the harbourmasters office. a small two story building topped off by long range radio antennae and radar equipment.
Two Police patrol boats were moored up outside the office and beyond the office you could see the single story british transport police office, a shin-hyung flashing its blues-and-twos parked up outside.
The office was small, but comfortably appointed. wooden panels lined the walls and a small sofa was leant against the far wall. The policeman closes the door after you and takes a seat on the far side of the desk, motioning for you to take a seat opposite.
The Soykaf machine by the window spits and steams as the aroma of coffee fills the room.
"Right sir, lets warm up with a coffee and then you can fill me in on what just happened. Milk? Sugar?"
