No lights were lit in the chamber. None were needed, since those within perceived rather than saw, and for perceiving, light was not necessary.
The Tiloeans were much taken with their new residents. Nearly every one was of sound, hearty physical stock. They would constitute a wonderful addition to the general population. Already, eligible young men and women from all the islands were choosing favorites in hopes of striking an acceptable match. There were many to pick from, since every member of the ship’s crew had been brought onto Greater Tilo from the fine ship now bobbing unattended at anchor in the little harbor.
But in taking her crew, the islanders had overlooked one who was not.
Something that was not even faintly human stirred in the bowels of the otherwise abandoned vessel. It had retired there in search of some peace and quiet during the raucous festivities of the night before. Perceived as entirely inhuman by the Tiloeans who had scoured the ship from stem to stern in search of slumbering crew, it had been relegated to the category of livestock or ship’s pet and subsequently ignored.
Now it stretched, yawned, and slowly made its way upward until it was standing on the main deck. Confusion confounded it. A whole day had obviously passed, yet the detritus of the wanton celebration supplied by the faceless islanders still lay scattered everywhere about the ship. The big cat’s heavy brows drew together. This was most unlike the human Captain, who experience had shown not merely favored but demanded a taut, spotless vessel.