Or is it?
They just got done telling us that real explorers go not just where nobody has gone before, but where others tell them not to go.
He’s just told me not to get on the ship.
Seems like he actually really wants me on the ship.
I don’t think the short-people-get-squished thing is valid anyway. It’s a few inches. How much can it really matter? I bet it’s fine.
Nobody physically escorts me from the selection area. They just assume I’ll leave. Like the old adage says, when you assume, you make an ass out of you, and a space traveler out of me.
I slide out of the selection area and walk into one of the service doors, where the people who are carrying stuff back and forth to the ship seem to be based. If anybody notices me doing this, they don’t say anything. I’m sure a lot of people are seeing me, but at times like these, when you walk around as if you own the place, people think you do.
Once I get into the service area, I find overalls for people to wear while loading cargo. They also have hairnets, and little plastic covers for shoes. And masks.
Nobody is currently watching any of this stuff.
I put all those things on, and move toward the sounds of things that are being, well, moved.
“Get that crate,” a supervisor says, snapping his fingers at me impatiently.
I go and pick up a box, and I carry it up into the ship. It’s massive.
There are so many places to hide, I am completely spoiled for them. I decide to avoid the bunk areas. People will go into those and set up for takeoff. I also don’t want to go too deep into the storage areas, because those will be high traffic, and could be rearranged or worse, move during liftoff. I’m not sneaking onto this ship to be crushed by a crate of powdered milk or similar.
I find an office, and I decide to tuck myself away underneath the desk. I don’t know who the office is for, but it’s not very large, which makes me think it’s probably for someone lower in the hierarchy. The desk is molded to the floor and the wall, because the last thing you want in a spaceship is stuff that moves around a lot. Even the chair is designed to slot forward and back, but not be pulled out too far. The design creates a nook that is perfect for someone my size to tuck away in. They thought I was too small? Hmph. We’ll see about that now.
Takeoff is tomorrow at dawn. Which means I’m going to be quite hungry by then. Fortunately, there’s a bathroom attached to this office, so I won’t be in a completely dire state. I tuck myself in and close my eyes…
I wake up to the feeling of a giant squishing me into the floor at full strength. We are taking off, and every part of my body is protesting at the incredible forces required to launch a machine of this size off the face of a planet. I would like to move into a more comfortable position, but that is pretty much impossible. I have to stay where I am until the pressure comes off as suddenly as it seemed to come on.
There’s a brief moment of weightlessness, and then the gravitational stabilizers are initialized and I feel myself sticking to the floor in a way I am more habitually used to.
The feeling of relief is incredible, along with the sudden rush of pure panic as I realize I really did this. I am no longer on the planet on which I was made. I am in space. And nobody knows at the moment, except me. It’s terribly exciting and also maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Some would say the fact that it’s only a ‘maybe’ indicates a general instability on my part, but those people are thousands of miles away, and getting massively more distant with every passing second.
I sit around underneath the table for a bit and listen to the ship starting to come to life. I’m wondering as to when I should reveal myself. It’s not like they’re going to turn around and send me back to Earth, after all, but I also feel like doing it too soon is a bad idea. They’re probably going to freak out, and I don’t want to freak them out at or near launch.
The punishments on a Viking ship are pretty brutal for the crew. For stowaways… well. I actually never heard of an interstellar stowaway before, but I bet it’s not a pleasant fate. My best bet is to try to fit in with the lower level operations staff. Cleaning crew or dinner or something like that. I bet there’s a chance I can go undetected for weeks, months, or even years like that. They’re never going to suspect that I don’t belong here, because they don’t think there’s any way someone could be on the ship and not belong. It’s the perfect plan.
A voice crackles over the ship’s system, deep and masculine and sort of old, but not too old. He’s got that gravitas that makes people feel happy being shot into space with him. Enough silver in his hair to give him some distinguished appearance, not somuch that anyone is going to try to retire him. Every person on this ship was chosen with intense care. Except me, of course.
“This is Captain Hakon speaking. Congratulations, crew. That was a flawless takeoff. All systems are online, and our trajectory is clean. Command personnel are to report to the captain’s ready room, mission staff to lecture hall alpha, and maintenance to start rounds. So far all systems are reading accurately, aside from a small glitch I am sure tech will be on top of very shortly. Our crew is nine hundred ninety-nine strong, but we’re reading a thousand at the moment. Ghost in the machine, perhaps. But it’s good luck, I’ll wager.”
My blood runs a little colder for realizing that nobody on the ship knows I am here, but theshipknows I am here. They’re going to try to fix that, I bet. Let’s hope it doesn’t lead to me being revealed before I’m ready.
My plan right now is to wait until the first shift goes to sleep, and then steal a maintenance uniform. I will be able to wander the ship with impunity then, I bet.
The door to the office opens. I stop breathing. I can peek out through a fine sliver of gap in the desk and I see a tall blonde woman wearing an officer’s uniform.
“I’m in Botanicals,” she says. “We’re looking for plant specimens on a dozen planets.”
“Oh, nice,” the man behind her says. “We’re doing geological surveys.”
Scientists. They’re smart, but probably distractible the way very smart people are. I note that the female officer has a small ration pack with her. Yummy. It’s been a while since I ate, and I am kind of hungry.
“All surveying officers to meeting room Ur,”a voice comes over the speakers again. I wonder if they’re going to keep making ship-wide announcements, or if that’s playing through here because it’s a geologist’s office.
Regardless, the officer puts her ration pack down on the desk and leaves the room. I slide my hand up to snatch it, and find myself with a generous serving of dried fish and flatbread. Delicious.
