As they neared the entranceway, Will brought them to a halt and the two of them hung in the vacuum, contemplating the dark passageway ahead of them. Whilst there appeared to be no discernible hatchway or airlock of any kind, Dorothy could see some sort of membrane separating them from the ship’s interior, its surface shimmering and iridescent, like a soap bubble.

‘What do you think?’ Will turned his head to look at her. ‘Force field of some kind?’

‘Only one way to find out.’

Before Will could stop her, Dorothy reached out, her gloved hand passing through the oil-on-water surface of the membrane.

At once she could feel a suction drawing her forwards and before she had a chance to contemplate the wisdom of her impulsive decision she was pulled bodily into the interior of the ship.

Immediately she could tell that there was gravity on the other side, her boots sinking slightly into the soft, spongy floor of the passageway. There was a breathable atmosphere too if the instrumentation in her suit was to be believed, although she would be checking those readings before doing anything else rash, like removing her helmet.

She turned to see Will floating on the other side of the membrane. His mouth was moving soundlessly and she realised that radio communication between the two of them was being blocked somehow.

She held out her hand, indicating that he should do the same. Tentatively he reached out towards the membrane. The instant that the fingers of his glove made contact there was a wet, sucking noise, and he was suddenly standing alongside her, the voice in her earpiece indication that radio communication between them had been restored again.

‘You don’t change, do you?’ said Will, clearly annoyed about her impulsive decision to enter the ship. ‘Charging into things without thinking. What happened to no heroics? Anything could have happened to you!’

‘Yeah, well nothing did, did it? I got us on board the ship, which was the point of our little spacewalk, wasn’t it?’ She knew Will disapproved of her impetuous nature. He had always been the one who insisted on planning everything meticulously, working out the pros and cons of any situation rather than just making decisions made on gut instinct. It had been one of the reasons they had split up. ‘What’re you going to do, grass me up to Mission Control?’

Will glared at her. ‘Communications with Sam are down. We’re on our own.’

‘Good. We’ll get more done that way.’

Will’s smile returned at that. He looked around the interior of the ship in fascination. The walls seemed to be constructed from the same skin-like material as the exterior hull, the twisted glistening surface occasionally broken by thin, semi-transparent buttresses, their glassy surfaces streaked with grime, like dirty fingernails.

‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?’ asked Will with a shudder.