The Grenna creature, Tarn, hopped more than it walked next to Jim Morris as the away party was escorted deeper into the bowels of The Karama.
Karapanov smiled.
Doc said, “I hardly find this funny!”
“No?” the russian pointed at the cowering Grenna, “We’re millions of miles from Earth, and the first thing you pick up next to our captain is a short grey thing!” he winked, “In russia, that’s funny!”
The interior of the ship was immaculately kept. Bulk-head were well maintained, circuitry and control panels throughout the ship were in perfect working order. It hardly looked like it had left spacedock.
“Here we are,” Vargus motioned towards a door. Locke followed, and they found themselves in a beautifully decorated conference room; wooden tables and everything.
“Wow!” Locke said, “They don’t make ‘em like they used to, Captain!”
“Standard issue, Locke,”
“Not anymore. All steel and padding now; unlike 20 years ago,”
“20 Years? Are you mad? We’re not 6 months out of spacedock!”
Locke coughed, “We have a problem,”