Blinking lights and a thousand useless switches. Tiny triangular windows surrounded by heavy bolts. The space was cramped, but he was calm. It was his companion who was having a problem with the lack of space. He was curled over his instruments into the smallest possible space to make the interior feel bigger.
Upon Islands of Time
The ship was indistinguishable from space. Not that it was black, but there was nothing to illuminate it. No stars in the background to at least give it an outline, not even the shiny smudge of a far-away galaxy. There was no way to see the ship, and therefore no way to tell whether it was moving. Then again, there was no one to look for the ship in the first place, at least there wasn’t likely to be. Still, there was a chance, however infinitesimal–so no lights shone from the gigantic specimen. In fact, no light wave would illuminate the ship. It was, for all intents and purposes, invisible, flying on through the nothingness that remained.
The Alien Sky
And so it swims. It swims not knowing its world, not knowing the significance. For a time, there is nothing untoward to inform it that something has changed. The water all around it is the same temperature, the same consistency, and the dim light of night penetrating the ocean’s surface to where the White prowls, is unchanged.
The One That's Coming
Father Emmanuelle jolted awake, the Bible falling off his lap and landing with a crack on the floor. He lowered his legs, eyes wide, but not seeing the dim room in front of him. He’d been dreaming. It was still vivid. They knelt in front of him, eyes downcast. Then one of their heads had exploded, followed by a bang—which was what had woken him.