They knew many languages, and had the skills to learn new ones rapidly. The one they used now involved hand signals. “The walls are very strange.” Gim signed, “I haven’t found evidence of any microphones yet, but we have to be careful.”
“How strange?” signed Bobb.
“Cold and clammy, even through the wood cladding. And there are bits that are colder than others, like they were being deliberately cooled.”
“We need to get out of here,” Sheel asserted, “before they check our story.”
“I can trace our steps back to where the flying boat landed. But I don’t know what would be there.”
“We need to get our hands on some metal to work with.” Bobb pointed out. The only time they saw metal was the cutlery at meal times, and they were watched as they ate by a rating who tried to stare at Sheel’s breasts.
“I wonder how the others are getting on.” Gim pondered.
“If they’re not dead.” Bobb replied lazily.