“And there are sentient beings scattered throughout,” I whispered to myself.
“Oh, yes,” Hermes’ cheerful voice said. “It’s quite a thought, isn’t it?”
“It’s mind-blowing.”
“Don’t think about it too much. The numbers are too big.”
I gave a wry laugh. “Perhaps, one day, in a hundred years or so, I might become blasé about it.”
“You’ll never be that. I’ve been travelling the galaxy for three hundred years and it never ceases to amaze me. The problem is that it’s so large that, if you let it, the sheer immensity of it all will overwhelm you. I normally travel with vision off.”
We were definitely clear of the Earth’s atmosphere now and I was looking in reality at a view I’d only ever seen in pictures before. Don’t be daft, I thought, you’ve only ever seen pictures of the Niagara Falls and the pyramids and the Great Wall of China. But perhaps the reality of these would be equally overwhelming, I answered myself. I glanced round at the cats. They were asleep. I laughed.
“Something funny?” Hermes asked.
“You can always depend on a cat to give you a firm grip on reality. They’re the first cats to travel in space and they’re asleep.”
“They’ve got the right idea,” he said. “It’ll be several hours until we reach the main ship. The idea of settling back with a cat on my knee has its attractions.”
“Main ship?”
“Spaceships are just that – space ships. They can’t land on planets. This is just the steegee.”
“I shouldn’t, but I have to ask. What’s a steegee?”
“Space to ground vehicle. A bus, really.”
“You know, that’s exactly what it reminds me of. Where is your main ship?”
“Safely hidden behind one of Saturn’s moons.” He grinned. “I did my research about your world before I arrived.”
The moon had disappeared and we were heading into outer space. I was going where no man had gone before, as Captain Kirk put it, though I didn’t feel in the least bit bold. It was a scary thought, made even more so by the fact that there was no sense of movement at all and my companion seemed to treat it even more casually than a trip to the seaside. I felt a sense of panic rising and quickly quelled it. I needed to emulate Hermes or, as he’d said, I would be totally overwhelmed. Perhaps I should just pretend it was a very realistic movie and not really happening at all. The steegee suddenly veered all over the place and I cried out.
“Asteroid belt,” Hermes said, opening one eye. “I should have probably told Dear to go over the top, but it’s quicker this way.”
I closed my eyes to shut out the view of the stars jumping at random all over the place.
“We’re through,” Hermes said.
Cautiously I opened my eyes. The world had settled down and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where’s Jupiter?” I asked.
“Back there somewhere. Other side of the sun.”
“Oh. Are you flying this thing?”
“Does it look like I’m flying it? Of course I’m not. Dear is. It’s a much better pilot than I am.”
“Oh.” There didn’t seem much else to say.
Time passed. I dozed in my seat as there wasn’t much to see except stars and they weren’t moving. I wished I’d brought a book with me. I’d actually fallen asleep when Hermes nudged me and gestured. I looked at where he was indicating and saw a small dot of colour.
“Saturn.”
Now I was interested again. The dot resolved itself into a circle then the rings appeared. At first it looked tiny but swelled visibly as I watched. We must have been traveling at some frightening speed. The moons appeared, at least some of them. Titan was obvious. Although it looked tiny compared to Saturn, I knew it was much larger than the Moon. The scale of what I was observing was impossible to comprehend. I could only gaze in awe. The giant planet swelled before my eyes. I could see the clouds and the storms sweeping across the planet. The rings were like millions of diamonds. At first it looked as though we were heading straight for the giant planet then I realised it was sliding off to one side. It grew and grew, filling the window. The pastel bands of colour rolled and roiled in the never-ceasing storms.
“Quite impressive,” Hermes’ voice sounded quietly beside me. “There are many planets with rings, but I think this is probably the most impressive I’ve seen. Especially as it has so many moons, too.”
“It’s awe-inspiring,”
“I suppose. Perhaps I’m a bit blasé. I’ve seen a few solar systems in my time. Oh, good, there’s Rhea.”
A gray ball, its smooth surface marred by thousands of craters, was directly in front of us. It lacked the mountains of the Moon, but some of the craters must have been a thousand miles across. We bulleted towards it, not appearing to slow down. At the last moment, it swung aside and we raced round the back. Suddenly we stopped. There was no period of deceleration. One minute we were moving and the next we weren't. I managed to avoid being sick, but only just.
“Inertialess drive,” Hermes said succinctly. “No inertia so no momentum.”
The cats were still asleep.
The reason for our abrupt stop lay just ahead of us. I assumed it must be Hermes’ spaceship, but it didn’t look like one. I had three mental images of what a spaceship should look like. The first was a sort of rocket with wings or tail fins; the kind much loved by cartoonists. The second was a spider-web of girders with spheres here and there; an image engendered by Arthur C Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. The third was, of course, the USS Enterprise. The thing I was looking at resembled none of these. The main bit seemed to be vaguely egg-shaped distorted by odd bulges and lumps. From the more pointed end a short tube extended at the end of which was a tin can, smaller than the egg. Two more tubes stuck out from the sides of the egg terminated by smaller tin cans. I could see no signs of engines.
“Ah, home,” Hermes said with satisfaction. He glanced at me. “Well, it isn’t actually, but I’ve spent as much of my life here as on the ground that it feels like home.”
I nodded without comment.
The ship was moving towards us. In reality we were moving towards it, but it looked as if it was doing the moving. We approached one of the side tin cans. As we did, the end opened and we slid inside. There were slight thumps and bumps from outside, the first external sensations we’d had since we’d left Earth. Hermes was watching an area of the dashboard intently. Squiggles flowed across the screen and a number of lights changed colours several times. Finally, they settled down and he stood.
“Let’s go. I’ll take your suitcase if you bring your pets. Please be careful, the corridor’s a bit narrow.”
The door opened and we stepped out into the interior of the tin can. That impression was reinforced as it seemed to be made of metal reinforced with girders. The reason for the thumping and bumping was the cradle in which the steegee was now securely fastened. It was cold; so cold our breath was visible. The cats woke up and began to protest. We climbed a set of steps up the curved wall. Hermes pressed his card to a small panel and a circular opening appeared, the barrier… door, I suppose it should be called, retreating like a camera iris. We stepped through and into a corridor that reminded me of the tunnels you go down to get on a plane except that this was made of metal and circular with only an open mesh walkway on the floor. Hermes had been right, it was narrow. I had to stoop slightly to avoid banging my head. Behind us, the door hissed quietly shut.
The corridor was, fortunately, fairly short. About half way along I suddenly realised we were in one of the tubes that led from the tin can to the egg. Around me was only a thin layer of metal and, beyond that, the frozen vacuum of empty space. Panic rose in my gorge again and I had to suppress it savagely. We passed through another iris door and into the egg. As I had no expectations about what I’d see, I wasn't surprised to find we were in another narrow corridor going at right angles to the one we’d left.
“Engines,” Herme
s said succinctly, waving at the opposite side of the corridor.
We turned left and followed the narrow corridor which curved slightly to the right. You could tell it had been well used; there were scuffs and stains and scratches everywhere. The lighting was dim and there were cobwebs hanging from the supporting girders.
“I’m afraid I’m not a great one for housekeeping,” Hermes said apologetically.
The corridor debouched into a larger open space. At one end were a pair of large and solid-looking doors, before which and off to the side was a control panel with two simple seats bolted to the floor. On the other side from the control panel were a number of doors that I was convinced hid machinery. We turned away from the large doors, through another iris door, down another short tube, through yet another iris door and into an entrance hall. This, at least, had straight walls. On one side hung two spacesuits looking limp and faintly ridiculous like deflated headless silver blow-up dolls. Incongruously a dustpan and broom were parked next to them. The hall was better lit, was panelled and had the first evidence of colour I’d seen. Like the corridor in the egg, though, it showed the signs of long use.
“Have you had this ship since you first started?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s had a few upgrades, but it’s essentially the same.”
My mind boggled at the idea of something as complicated as a spaceship lasting for over three hundred years. No wonder it looked run-down and scruffy.
Regular doors hissed open as Hermes approached. We entered a regular corridor with doors on either side.
“Stores and whatnot,” Hermes said, waving his hand.
The corridor ended in a ‘T’ with stairs up and down from the arms. We went down.
“I’ll show you round later. Let’s find a room. You can let your pets out there, but please keep them in the room for the time being.”
The lower corridor mirrored the upper one. It had four doors.
“My quarters,” Hermes said, indicating a door. He approached one on the opposite side. It opened automatically. “You can have this one. Bathroom’s over there. Bed linen, towels and such are in the cupboards. I’ll see you on the bridge when you’re ready. Up two flights. You can’t miss it.”
He left. I put the cat basket on the floor and looked around. If it hadn’t been for the curved wall I could have been in a second-rate hotel room. It was basic and impersonal and dowdy. There was a double bed with a sheet, pillows and a duvet and I wondered if they’d been made specifically for me. Every sentient race in the galaxy surely couldn’t sleep under a duvet? There were doors which I discovered hid a wardrobe, a set of shelves and a pull-out console that looked as if it was a TV and home computer. The bathroom contained a small shower, wash-hand basin and toilet. That reminded me that I needed to go. When I pressed the button after completing my business, a light flashed and an alarm sounded. It took me several moments to work out that I had to put the lid down. I didn’t hear the sound of water flushing but, when I opened the lid, the toilet was clean. The cats were meowing plaintively so I opened the basket. Typically, after having made such a fuss, they refused to come out. I unpacked the tray, filled it with litter and put it in the bathroom. I dumped the cats into the tray. Ziggy decided he needed. A thought occurred to me.
“Dear,” I said loudly. “Can you hear me?”
“Of course. You don’t need to shout.”
“Sorry. Can you see me?”
“If you wish. I have a general instruction not to view inhabited spaces unless asked.”
“Can you look now, please?”
“Certainly.”
“Can you see two small animals?”
“I see a small black creature and a slightly larger white and black one. They appear to be the same species.”
“They’re my cats. The black one is Stardust and the other is Ziggy. When I’m not here, could you keep an eye on them, please? Hermes says they’re not to roam and as the door is automatic…”
“I can ensure that it will only open for you and Hermes. Will that suffice?”
“Thank you. You might keep an eye on them anyway in case they get into mischief.”
“What would constitute mischief?”
“If they start damaging the furniture or something. I don’t think they will, but you never know.”
“If I am in doubt I will call you.”
“Thanks.”
The cats were awake now and exploring their new home. I was about to put the rucksack into a cupboard when I discovered a small plastic bottle in one of the pockets. I threw it on the floor and Ziggy pounced on it. It skittered away. He crouched down, his tail waving from side to side then pounced again. Stardust was peering interestedly form the bed. I was smiling as I left.
The bridge was above the entrance hall. I thought this a bit odd as I’d assumed we’d be moving with the egg behind us as it contained the engines. Hermes was lounging in a comfortable seat in front of a panel of display screens, lights and buttons; a more complicated version of the dashboard in the steegee. He swivelled round as I came in.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Fine thanks.”
“Your pets?”
“Dear’s keeping an eye on them. It’s locked them in so they shouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Good. Are you hungry?”
“I am.”
We went to the kitchen which was behind one of the doors in the corridor leading to the bridge. It wasn't large, but it didn’t need to be.
“No fresh food, I’m afraid. Too bulky to carry. Dear has programmed the kitchen for your metabolism.” He pointed at some buttons on the side of something that looked like a microwave oven. “You can ask Dear to provide some labels but, for now, just tell me what you want.”
He listed the options and I plumped for a chicken casserole followed by strawberry cheesecake.
“There are no set meal times. Just eat when you feel like it. While the companionship of sharing food is pleasant, I have found that what one species regards as a delicious treat, another finds repulsive. The same applies to eating habits. I believe your species uses implements to transfer your food from the dish to your mouth? I do too, but there are many who don’t and I confess that the sight of someone shovelling something purple, glutinous and malodorous into his mouth with his fingers, or equivalent, is not a good appetizer. So I tend to eat apart from my guests. However, this once, I’d be willing to risk it if you will.”
“I’m game,” I said. “I promise I’ll not order any blue Stilton. The smell of that even puts me off.”
He was busy pressing buttons. “Oh, it doesn’t have to be that obvious. It can simply be a matter of the seasoning used.”
I thought about different people’s reaction to garlic and agreed.
The cooker, for want of a better word, pinged. I opened it and pulled out the plate. It certainly looked like chicken casserole with fresh carrots and new potatoes and it certainly smelt like it. I held it out to Hermes.
“Okay?” I asked.
He sniffed. “Not bad. I almost feel I could eat that.”
His cooker pinged and he did me the same courtesy. He plate was loaded with a dark meat in a rich-looking sauce, some round yellow objects and some pink star-shaped things.
“Smells good. I won’t ask what it is.”
He laughed. “Same as yours; meat, sauce, staples and vegetables. There’s some utensils in that drawer. We’ll eat in the rec room.”
There were some weird things in there. I raked around and managed to find something that resembled a knife and another that looked like a spoon.
The rec room occupied the whole of the other side of the corridor. It was as the name suggested, the room for recreation. There were comfortable chairs, small tables, some electronic things that looked like arcade games machines and an open space in one corner with a rubber mat.
“Don’t stand on that,” he said, noticing my gaze. “It’s the trivee.”
“Trivee?”
/> “Three-dimensional TV would be your equivalent.”
“Oh, right.”
He pulled a table up to a chair and sat down. I copied him. For a while we were too busy eating for conversation. The chicken casserole tasted as good as it looked and I said so.
“That's one thing my employers don’t skimp on, I’m glad to say,” he said. “This…” he waved his eating utensil around, “…is fairly basic, but the kitchen is top rate.”
I gave a wry laugh. “Everything I see raises about a thousand questions. So many I don’t know where to start.”
“Then don’t. Unless it’s important for your health, safety or sanity, it’s better just to accept it all. You’ll pick it all up bit by bit. If your curiosity gets the better of you, ask Dear. It has more patience than I.”
“I will. I’ll try not to bug you with silly questions. I do have one, though. When do we leave?”
He gave a short laugh. “We left exactly thirty three minutes and seventeen seconds ago.”
I was surprised then realised. “I know, I know. Inertialess drive.”
“You’ve got it.”
“How long will the flight take?”
“A little over three days. Most of that will be spent manoeuvring in solar systems.” He pushed his plate aside. “I believe you wanted a sweet. Let’s get that and some beverages and I’ll give you some basic information.”
We settled back in our seats which, I discovered, reclined.
“Right,” he began. “The beginner’s guide to space travel. The drive I was telling you about… the one that led to the Lottery… it works only in deep space, away from stars. When we’re a safe distance away, Dear will switch it on and off we go. I’ve no idea how it works, but the effect is that we can whiz around the galaxy in double-quick time. From your solar system to Capella takes around forty five hours. The rest of the time is taken up with getting from Saturn to our F-point, where we can use the drive, and from Capella’s F-point to Geretimal. Now it’s a funny thing, but the contours of space in whatever weird reality we occupy when using the drive, aren’t the same as the ones we see. In other words, two stars might be several thousand light years apart to us, but practically next door neighbours with the drive. With me so far?”
I Won A Spaceship Page 4