A "vertical slice" of fiction.
In the Void
You’d miss it, most likely. There isn’t much in the way of light in the void between galaxies, and the vessel was inherently dark as well.
The outer hull of the ship formed a shape not unlike a barrel which might have been squashed, wider horizontally than it was vertically. It curved toward a dull point in the front, though there was no discernible cockpit there. Its surface was extremely reflective, which aided its ability to hide against a dark and starry backdrop.
A layer of thick ice constantly grew from the nose and worked its way back, generating a fresh shield-surface which would protect the hull from very small bits of debris and some types of energy. As the ice progressively worked its way down the length of the ship it would thin out and eventually flake off, replaced by newer ice forming behind it.
Approximately one-third along the length of the ship, from the nose, geometric gills ran vertically on the hull. In a sense they were like the gills of fish, except they were facing forward to scoop in matter and energy. Ever-working engines deep in the ship sucked in what the gills could capture, and ran complex processes to transform the energy in the fuel required to power the ship, as well as facilitate recycling of matter and generation of other basic materials, such as water.
Usually thin silver lines would highlight a geometric track of the back of the ship, a sign that the engines were performing as expected and propelling the ship on to some destination. At this moment, however, this was not the case.
In place of the silver lines was a gaping hole, bleeding coolant and flickering sparks of plasma.