Jeff had to admit the ship—this whole situation—gave him the creeps, too. Everything was so alien. But hadn’t the ship’s computer promised to help them?
“And another thing,” Green interrupted his thoughts. “It’s a ghost ship. Christ knows how long its been flying itself through the galaxy. At this speed, it must have been flying through the known sector for years. Why has nobody ever tried to make contact with it? I reckon—”
“Stop, Lieutenant Green,” Irons barked. “I’ve had it up to here with your fear-mongering. We’ve been received in a friendly manner, and I will not allow you to insult our hosts with your unfounded suspicions.”
Green looked down at the ground and didn’t answer.
“Corporal Fields, get the equipment. We’re going.”
The technician nodded and beckoned to his shipmates.
Jeff followed Irons to the door. He stopped at the threshold. A long corridor stretched out in front of them. The walls were made of an unusually dark gray metal—the whole ship seemed to be made of the same material. The corridor was very dimly lit, but at least it was light enough to see where they were going. And it was just wide enough so that two people could walk side by side. It sloped down gently from the surface of the ship.
“Strange—it’s like a ramp,” Irons said. “On our spaceships and stations, the floors and corridors all run parallel to the decks. If you need to reach another level, you use elevators, stairs, or ladders.”
Suddenly he gave a gasp of surprise.
“What is it?” Jeff asked.
“Walk forward six more feet and you’ll see for yourself,” the major said.
Cautiously, Jeff took a step forward. His foot met with less resistance than he had expected. When he pulled the other foot after it, he was monetarily overcome by dizziness. “The artificial gravity is changing vector direction,” he said in surprise.
“That’s right,” Irons said.
Jeff looked back at the hangar or whatever that room with the airlock was. It was strangely tilted now, and his shipmates seemed to be leaning against invisible walls, but Jeff knew it was just an illusion produced by the different directions in which the artificial gravity of the spaceship pointed.
“We have to be careful not to lose our sense of direction,” Irons said, setting off again. The others followed him, reluctantly. Jeff wondered how much farther they would have to go until they reached their quarters.
“You’d never have done this on a human spaceship,” Green mused. “But considering the size of this thing, it makes sense. Imagine—a corridor tilted at ninety degrees leading straight to the center of the ship. You could reach it without ever having to use a staircase or elevator.”
“But they must have had transportation systems,” Irons frowned. “Surely these aliens didn’t travel such vast distances on foot.”
“It’s so murky,” Joanne shuddered, stepping into the corridor. Her face gleamed faintly in the pale light, while her dark space suit appeared to merge with the gray walls of the ship.
“You’re right,” said Jeff. “It wasn’t particularly bright in the hangar, but here you can hardly even see any outlines.”
“Maybe the aliens’ eyes were more sensitive than ours,” said Owl, who was trudging along the corridor behind Joanne.
Sticking close together, they continued walking down the hallway in silence. Nothing—not even the occasional door or recess—broke up the monotony of the dark metal walls.
Irons quickened his pace and marched on ahead. Shorty and Mac, who were carrying the equipment sled, brought up the rear. Thanks to the integrated inertia negation, the sled was light as a feather despite its mass. One person could have pulled it alone, but it was so big, it was easier to have two people pulling.
They must have covered about a mile when they finally got to an intersection. Three corridors forked off at different angles from the one they had been walking along. Only one was illuminated, and Jeff could see that it also led downward, and that there was another turning a little further on. One of the other corridors seemed to go up, but it was too dark to see for certain.
“Now where?” Owl asked.
Irons just grunted and set off down the illuminated hallway. Jeff saw the major tapping something into his handheld. “What are you doing?”
Irons held out the handheld computer—part of every crew member’s equipment—for Jeff to look at. He could see that the major had drawn several lines leading away from a rectangle. It was a rough sketch of the path they were taking. Jeff nodded, and Irons put the handheld back in his pocket. It was a sensible thing to do, of course. Whichever way they went, they would know the way back to the airlock if necessary. The inertial navigation systems in their handhelds were also recording the route they were taking, but it was sensible to have a hand-drawn back-up.
“How far still?” Green asked. Nobody answered. “Thanks a lot,” the engineer muttered sarcastically.
Jeff only hoped that the aliens hadn’t been used to walking hundreds of miles on foot. He wondered what they had looked like… the facilities they had seen on the ship so far didn’t tell them much. The lock hatches and the width and height of the corridors suggested the aliens might have been similar in size to humans, but that was just speculation.
Every time they came to a junction, only one of the turnoffs was illuminated. Without ever hesitating, Irons led the group further into the mighty ship.
Almost an hour and a half had passed, during which time Green had complained on numerous occasions about his aching feet. Each complaint was acknowledged by a glare from Irons—although secretly, Jeff could have done with a break himself.
After yet another intersection, the new corridor became wider and they passed the occasional door adorned with the strange symbols and characters in the alien language. There were no door handles, but next to each door there was a little blue box embedded in the wall. Jeff presumed these were opening mechanisms, and was tempted to try one, but he didn’t know how the ship’s computer or Irons would react—and he didn’t want to find out.
Shorty had less scruples. Just as Jeff was turning away from one of the doors, the young mechanic pushed one of the boxes. The door remained closed, but three short beeps sounded through the corridor.
“Fingers off!” Irons said sharply. “I don’t want anyone here to touch anything without my command. Is that clear?”
Shorty looked down at his feet and nodded. Irons snorted and set off again. More intersections followed at ever shorter intervals and Irons struggled to keep up with his sketch. Finally, they turned into a corridor in which the light petered out after several feet. Somewhere beyond where the darkness began, there was an open door from which bright light shone into the corridor.
“Behind this door are your living quarters,” the voice of computer suddenly returned.
Jeff entered the room behind Irons and chuckled in surprise. He’d reckoned with just about anything, but not this.
Green came in right after Jeff. “Holy shit, what is this?”
“Looks like a designer hotel.” Joanne shook her head.
She was right. The room looked a lot like a luxury hotel suite. Jeff was reminded of his room in the five-star hotel he’d treated himself to in New York a few years back on a tour of the Solar System. In the middle of the spacious room were two large couches, arranged at right angles around a big glass table. In one corner was a large, round, wooden table—at least it looked like wood—around which were ten ornately curved wooden chairs. Behind the table was a kitchenette. Through one of the wall cupboard’s glass doors, Jeff could see plates, cups, and glasses. He was sure he would find cutlery in one of the drawers next to the stove.