WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . .
a real mass that the normal universe could and would notice.
Visual observation at the organic level became possible as the great ship cut the orbit of the last gas giant. Those of the vessel’s complement took the never dull opportunity to rush the ports for a glimpse of a new solar system; those whose functions did not include the actual maneuvering of the craft. Curiosity was a fairly universal characteristic among space-going races. The crew of the Tpin, although a grim lot, were no exception.
Within the protected confines of the fore control room of the half-kilometer-long bubble of metal and plastic, Communicator First Phrnnx shifted his vestigial wings and asked Commander First Rappan for the millionth time what-the-hell-equivalent they hoped to find.
“Phrnnx,” Rappan sighed, “if you haven’t been sufficiently enlightened as to the content of the legends by now, I fail to see how I can aid you. Instead of repeating yourself for the sake of hearing yourself oralize, I suggest you bend a membrane to your detection apparatus and see if you can pick up any traces of that murfled Yop battleship!”
Phrnnx riffled his eyelids in a manner indicative of mild denial, with two degrees of respectful impatience. “We lost those inept yipdips five parsecs ago, sir. I am fully capable of performing my duties without any well-intentioned suggestions from the bureaucracy. Do I tell you how to fly the ship?”
“A task,” began Rappan heatedly, “so far beyond your level of comprehension that… !”