Nigel Findley - Into the Void

For the first time he could see the cylinder's circular "deck" clearly. There was nothing-other than the stairway itself and the low rail around the circumference-to break up the featureless expanse: no forecastle, no mast or rigging… and no visible way of getting down inside the cylindrical ship. Well, he thought, we'll just have to leave that up to the arcane, or this will be a short and useless meeting.

The stairway had a rail, but it was only on one side and was higher than was comfortable for Teldin. The risers, too, were higher than normal and were uncomfortable for human legs. Of course, he thought, the Nebulon isn't a human ship. He wished he'd asked Aelfred or Estriss more about what the arcane looked like. From the construction of this staircase, he could guess they were considerably taller than humans, but what other surprises were in store? With an effort he pushed on.

There was one positive thing: the descent down the staircase gave him an opportunity to examine the white material that seemed to make up the entire ship. The rail under his hand didn't feel cold like metal or stone would. It was more a neutral temperature. The texture wasn't quite like ivory, but he realized his original guess was probably fairly close to the truth. The white substance felt very much like bone. A ship of bone? That was an uncomfortable image.

The crewman nodded respectfully as Teldin reached the deck. They waited while Aelfred, Estriss, and the other crewman joined them, then led the party to the center of the circular deck. The first crewman muttered a short phrase under his breath, and the deck opened up.

The solid material of the deck shifted, and a round opening appeared. To Teldin, it looked like a gigantic eye,… or a mouth, opening. He fought the urge to step back.

The circular opening expanded until it was about ten feet in diameter. Cautiously, Teldin looked down into the hole. There was warm yellow light like a summer afternoon down there, and he could see a spiral staircase leading into the ship's depths. The first crewman bowed to Teldin again. "T'k'Pek awaits you below," he said.

Teldin nodded. He stepped forward and probed the edge of the opening with his toe. The white material, which seconds ago had shifted like soft flesh, was as hard as any other part of the deck. He glanced back at Aelfred and Estriss. The warrior was looking a little uncomfortable, but the disguised illithid appeared totally unconcerned. He's probably seen this kind of thing before, Teldin thought. He stepped onto the first stair- also as firm as rock-and started to descend. His "assistants" followed him.

The spiral staircase, with its too-high steps, took four turns, then reached another deck. Teldin guessed he'd descended about fifty feet. He was in a small, circular room, not much larger than the span of the staircase itself. There was a single door ahead: almost as high as the ceiling, but otherwise normal in design. As he waited for the others to join him, he looked around for the source of the light. There were no lanterns or torches; the light seemed to come from everywhere. He glanced at his feet and saw no shadow.

This one staircase, just to get to one door? he asked himself, then immediately answered his own question. Just like the circular hatch, he thought. Other doors open when they're needed.

Aelfred and Estriss were quickly beside him. With a deep breath, Teldin reached out for the doorknob.

His hand was still inches away from it when the door swung silently inward. Teldin hesitated, then stepped forward.

On the other side of the door was a long, straight corridor. Walls, floor, and fifteen-foot-high ceiling all were constructed of the now-familiar white material. The corridor shone with sourceless light. Dead straight, it had to be a hundred feet long, maybe more. The walls were featureless-no doors, no embellishments or decorations, nothing to break the unrelieved whiteness. Again, he presumed that doors along the corridor would open as the arcane willed and required. At the far end of the corridor, though, he thought he could see a normal door, similar to the one he'd just passed through.

He counted his steps. Thirty-five strides, and Teldin knew that each of his strides was a little less than three feet long. His estimate of the corridor's length had been fairly accurate. Now he stood in front of another door. As he'd guessed, it was a twin to the door from the stairwell. He waited until the others had joined him, then reached out to open it, and again it swung open as if triggered by the proximity of his hand.

The view beyond the doorway literally took his breath away. The room-if you could call it that-was wide, perhaps fifty or sixty feet across. The doorway he stood in was almost exactly in the center of the long wall. Twenty or thirty feet in front of him was a wall of shiny silver-the first break in the otherwise-ubiquitous ivory material. Set into it were great windows, their curving lines evoking images of flames, of flower petals, or of leaves. Widest at about waist level, these windows narrowed to delicate tips some fifteen feet above the floor.

Teldin stood, transfixed. Before him, the distant stars wheeled slowly. That's right, he thought, the Nebulon is tumbling. The stars swung, silently, in a kind of stately procession, then something else moved into his field of view: something huge, blue-white…

He was looking down on the planet Toril. Down. He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back a whimper of fear. His brain conjured a vivid image: his body plummeting down toward that blue-white sphere, bursting through the glass of those windows, and falling free-surrounded by glittering fragments-to the ground below. Logic told him that was impossible. He was in the grip of the Nebulon's own gravity, but how could logic stand up against the emotional impact of a view like that?

He heard a gasp from behind him. It was almost impossible to tear his eyes away from the spectacle before him, but somehow he turned. Aelfred was behind him, eyes wide in surprise. Almost instantly, however, he shook off the effect, and his expression returned to normal. He grasped Teldin's shoulder with his calloused hand and squeezed reassuringly.

As if his friend's touch were a healing spell, Teldin felt his terror melt away. He stepped farther into the gallery room. Now that his mind was free of the view's hypnotic spell, he saw other details of the room. There were two other doors in the wall, he noted, one on each side of the portal by which he'd entered.

Infinitely more important, he saw he wasn't alone in the great gallery. Toward the left-hand end of the room was a massive chair of purple crystal, almost like a throne. The Nebulon's helm? he asked himself. It was facing outward toward the void.

And the great chair was occupied. A blue-skinned giant sat motionless, gazing out at the wonders of the universe. For several heartbeats, Teldin didn't move, waiting for the giant to acknowledge his presence. He was about to clear his throat when the crystal throne turned silently as if on a well-oiled pivot. For the first time, Teldin could see the creature in the chair properly.

He was a tall, lanky humanoid with bluish-gray skin. His thin, almost spindly legs were crossed, and he leaned back in the chair in a posture that looked almost indecently relaxed and comfortable. Teldin regarded him with interest. Standing, he figured the creature would be about twelve feet tall, but much of that height would come from his long legs. His shoulders were narrow, and his chest appeared almost sunken in comparison with his height. He looks like a weakling, Teldin thought, then dismissed the idea. Don't underestimate him, he told himself, in any way.

Apart from the creature's blue skin, his narrow head could possibly be mistaken for a human's… in a thick fog at midnight. The arcane's bald skull showed a strange, double-domed structure that bulged slightly forward above his brow. His eyes were dark and very human-looking, but were sunk deep into his head and protected by protruding rings of bone. His cheeks were hollow, focusing attention on his small, almost pursed, mouth. The creature wore a flowing, shawllike robe of shimmering green-a perfect contrast with the dusty blue of his skin, Teldin had to admit. The arcane's hands were clasped comfortably in his lap and seemed to Teldin to have too many fingers.