They had seen pictures, but seeing the ship in person, as it were, was quite different. It was shaped like a chunk of two-by-four, too short to use, too long to throw away; not at all aerodynamic, but not the collection of spiky protuberances familiar from old movies either. There wasn’t much in the way of antennas and the like, nor anything that looked like a rocket motor. It had once been painted white; the paint was peeling off, especially on the end away from their approach, leaving bare—metal?—pale gray and scarred. Where the paint was intact the sun glare was almost painful.
The end nearest them was blunt, almost flat, freckled with small black spots, probably windows or portholes. Off center to the right was a rectangular area, and on each corner of that was a red flashing light. Now they could see it was a hole. The light was different inside, bluer than the sunlight and not nearly as bright, and machines of some sort were just becoming visible. The upper left-hand light wavered oddly and broke up into lines at an angle to the edge of the hole; Gell spat a syllable and pushed the control gently to the right, then a bit down, and the light went solid but continued flashing. Their version of a meatball, apparently, and pretty slick. Keep the lights round seemed to be the game.
That was a big hole. One of the things inside was another dli, looking like a toy; Todd tried to recall the height of the vertical stabilizer, made a quick calculation, then a low whistling hiss. “Peters, that hole is over twenty meters high.”
“Yeah, I was just gettin’ the same thing. That makes it fifty wide, which makes the ship eighty meters high and better’n two hundred wide. God knows how long it is.”
“Approximately seven hundred meters,” said Dreelig. “Of course we don’t use your measures. You will have to learn our measures, and our numbers, if you are to be of help.”
The stern of the ship was a wall filling the windshield, and the hole was a gaping maw, bluish light inside, corner lamps strobing. The closer they got, the faster their approach speed seemed. They knew it was an optical illusion, but both sailors were gripping their seat arms and leaning back defensively. Then the light changed as they crossed the threshold, there was a heartbeat of impossibly quick deceleration that didn’t change the rock-stable feeling at all, and they were moving sedately across the floor of a huge space. Gell pushed a series of buttons, causing the crosses on the instrument dials to disappear, and the dli came to a halt next to another, identical one.
Dreelig stood and stretched, much as a human being would. “Please get your things and come with me,” he said. He led the way toward the back of the shuttle, continuing, “The delay on the ground has cost us some time. I must introduce you to my, ah, colleague, because I have other duties for the remainder of this llor.” The two sailors exchanged glances and shrugs, got their seabags and peacoats out of the luggage locker, and followed.
Chapter Two
The welcoming committee was a single Grallt, female if the well-filled tunic meant the same thing as it did with humans. She and Dreelig conversed in low voices while Todd and Peters waited on the wingwalk, looking around.
Overhead, heavy beams pierced with lightening holes ran crosswise every three meters or so, with lighter stringers lengthwise at about the same spacing. A rat’s-nest of wires, tubes, conduits, and who-knew-what twisted and tangled around the beams, entering and leaving boxes and tanks. Six rows of big lights marched from one end to the other, giving about the level of illumination to be expected on the carrier’s hangar deck at night, but bluish instead of the yellow they were used to.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Todd said, “but isn’t outer space supposed to be a vacuum?”
“That’s what they told me,” Peters replied slowly, shifting his seabag for a more comfortable grip.
“And we just landed this thing, right?”
“That’s what I remember, yeah.”
“Then what the fuck are we breathing?” Todd demanded. “Did you hear any air coming in, or anything like that?”
“Shit, I dunno. I ain’t never been on a spaceship before.”
The thwartships beams continued down the walls to form alcoves two meters deep. One wall, to port as they had entered, had three big doors or hatches reinforced with a waffle pattern of smaller beams, not quite as high as the bay but almost as wide. Everything was painted one color, probably cream or light yellow; it was hard to tell, because it was all grimy and scarred, let alone the effect of the bluish light. The deck was scuffed, worn, and littered with trash, most of it the size of bolts and screws but a few pieces as big as a man’s head; bits of unidentifiable machinery sat here and there in no discernible order, and many of the alcoves were filled with a miscellany of equipment and junk.
“This is not reassuring,” said Todd, gesturing at the clutter.
“You got that right,” Peters agreed with some force. “If the rest of the boat’s as sloppy as this is, we may not live to regret comin’ along.”
“Pretty out the door, though,” Todd observed.
“Shit, I been tryin’ not to look.” The hole they had entered through was still open, a crescent of the Earth intruding on the upper left-hand corner, stars shining elsewhere.
“Isn’t the air supposed to be kinda thin out there?” Todd persisted.
Peters shrugged. “Magic, I reckon. Look alive, here they come.”
The two Grallt had finished their talk, body language making them a pair but not a couple. Peters and Todd hefted their bags and stepped down off the wing, finding the deck a bit slippery, as if the nonskid was too worn to be effective any more.
Dreelig gestured toward the newcomer. “I introduce you to Dee. She will show you to your quarters and tell you something about the ship.”
“Hello, Dee,” said Peters, looking her over. The female Grallt was wearing a tunic and trousers of something satiny, blue above and yellow below; she was about Todd’s height, slender, and very nicely shaped, at least below the neck.
“Pleasant greetings, Peters,” she said, her voice much deeper than expected, a musical baritone. “Welcome aboard Llapaaloapalla. You are Todd?” When Todd nodded, she continued, “Welcome aboard also. Please follow me.”
“Sure,” said Peters. “Thanks for the guidance,” he said to Dreelig. “See you again.”
“That will probably happen,” Dreelig agreed with a nod. He walked away toward the entrance of the bay, aft they supposed, and Peters turned back to Dee. “Lead on, lady.”
“This way.” Dee led them to starboard, or at least away from the big hatches, to a people-sized hatch with an oval porthole at eye level. She worked the latch, a big handle that swung thirty degrees with a squeal and clank, and stepped aside to let them through.
Light came from glowing bare tubes supported by the ends in pairs, a little thicker than standard fluorescents, and a stairway, more like the ones in an office building than a ship’s ladder, led upward. The Grallt pushed past them, gestured at the stairs, and led in that direction, and the sailors followed, grunting under the weight of their seabags.
Two decks up they entered a corridor running lengthwise in the ship. Doors, all closed, interrupted the walls at about four meter intervals. Dee opened the first of these on the right, to reveal a small room or suite whose most outstanding feature was a window with rounded corners, now displaying stars. “These will be your quarters if you find them satisfactory,” she said.
Windows on a ship? In enlisted berthing? Peters forced himself to look away. The room was about four meters by three, dusty from disuse, with low bunks to left and right, metal wall lockers, and a desk with reading lamp and chair. The bunks weren’t made. To the left, by the head of the bunk, was another door. “This is great,” he said. “We don’t live like this on our ships, except maybe officers.”