27 Dec 32%
Whoo-hoo! I was totally weightless! As soon as I felt the familiar cast iron chains of gravity disappear, I hastily unbuckled my harness and started floating around the cabin, grinning like a fool. The cabin wasn’t that large, probably smaller than the NASA’s legendary “vomit comet”, but it had enough room to float, push away from the walls, floor and ceiling, do some spins and fool around in microgravity in all imaginable ways. This was a shitload of fun! I was so excited that I didn’t even get sick.
I did miss the docking though. It was so smooth and flawless that I was startled by the opening hatch, leading inside a larger mothership, menacing in its sheer blackness. It was so black, in fact, that until I was right next to it, I could only detect its presence by not seeing the stars that its shape had obstructed. That is if I would have paid attention, which I didn’t. I was too carried away by the microgravity stunts. You may say it was childish, but I insist that I was doing it for science. I have managed to wedge my phone in some paneling crevice and filmed my escapades. Floating around weightless in an alien spaceship – if this would not totally explode all of the social media I don’t know what would. Maybe the nuclear explosion from up close, that I also had in the phone’s gallery, with the shuttle’s controls and instrument readouts framing the picture. I really hope I can keep and use this footage when (and if) I make it back to Earth. I have my doubts though.
The sheer size, barely identifiable, and almost total blackness of the alien mothership looked intimidating. I guess it needed to be absorbing and scattering all kinds of wavelengths in order to stay hidden from the Earth’s military and scientific instruments. But as a result the black monstrosity looked dead and derelict. I could barely estimate its size, which was way bigger than anything we humans have built in space so far, but still much smaller than what our Hollywood filmmakers had often imagined. So, although there is no frame of reference in space, and I cannot be sure, I’d say it is not an Imperial Destroyer big, but most likely much larger than a Millenium Falcon. Sorry, that’s the best I can do.
It looked so dead that I was beginning to worry that the Horsemen had managed to disable the Advancer’s mothership. But there was light coming out from an open hatch, so one could reasonably assume that it wasn’t entirely dead.
There was no way but forward, so I nervously exhaled, took a deep breath, which had a tinge of something vaguely alien in the way it smelled (unless it was just my vivid imagination) and went in.
As soon as I entered the hatch, something pulled me down and softly planted my feet onto the floor. Hey, there’s gravity in here! Must be artificial, which means there is a whole area of physics they have mastered that we hadn’t even discovered yet.
So there must be power up here. I wasn’t sure, though, that the ship was awake, and knew I was here, and would maintain a breathable atmosphere. I would assume that the Advancers in their present form were too similar to humans to not require air.
There was a soft but unexpected “whoosh” sound behind my back. Startled, I turned back just in time to see the hatch I just went through sealing itself, isolating me from my shuttle. I approached the hatch and tried to find any kind of an opening mechanism or a button or something. Nope. There was no obvious way to open it.
I cautiously proceeded to explore the ship, or the part of it that I could access, apparently I was confined to a relatively small area of it. There was clearly more of the ship, but going in every direction I would soon encounter another sealed hatch with no way to open it. Soon I began to feel slightly claustrophobic. And very much alone.
As there was not much to do, I decided to describe my experiences – as much in the vague hope that someone will actually read it, as to just pass time, distracting myself from the encroaching panic.
So here I am, and here is my story up to now. And there is some battery still left, so I did OK I guess. Aside from the fact that I’m not a writer, so I’m fairly sure this is not the best piece of literature you have read lately. Anyway, I did what I could.
The big question at the moment is “now what?”. I hope the answer will present itself before the oxygen runs out or I starve to death.
There is something seriously wrong with the mothership. It’s not entirely dead, because it would be cold as hell otherwise. It’s not. And it must be physically intact, because there’s breathable air. There’s soft cold light coming seemingly radiating from everywhere at the same time, so it has energy. But is feels very much dead otherwise. Not a single indicator light or screen anywhere, no sounds, no movement, no repair droids or cleaning bots doing their business, no AI greeting me or querying about who the hell I am and why I am here. Nothing.
It feels very unsettling. I have a nagging feeling of… well… wrongness. This ship is not quite right. There is nothing too weird or unimaginable about the interior – it’s all very clean and utilitarian. Soft off-white paneling, no sharp corners, vaguely odd-shaped doors, very little parallel surfaces and a lot of unidentifiable objects. It feels very much alien, more than anything I have seen so far, but not particularly creepy.
I can’t even talk to the shuttle anymore – since the hatch had closed behind me, I can’t get it open again, and nobody answers when I talk. It doesn’t feel good, that’s for sure.
Wait. Something is happening! I got to go now…