I counted the seconds silently and tried to keep track of the turns that made me lose my footing and dunk back under the surface.
Twenty-five seconds. Left turn.
Forty more seconds. Left turn.
Ninety-two seconds. Ascending a ramp? The tank slowed down, and the algae sloshed in my direction. I managed to keep my face above it and breathe, but there was no hanging on as we made a right, then another left.
How will I find my way back? Assuming I got out safely. Assuming they didn’t catch me.
Finally, the tank stopped. Outside its walls, I could hear a lot of the little pattering noises the aliens’ feet made on the floor. Splashing water and a low, machinery hum.
The lid began to slide back, and I ducked my head under the surface, holding my breath, blind and deaf as the algae clogged my ears.
Wait. Count the seconds. Relax. They’re right here.
When the need to breathe burned my lungs to failure, I pushed my face up and grabbed a huge, gulping breath.
Back under. Wait.
No one came to haul me out. No strange green tentacles probed in the algae, looking for me.
Back up and breathe.
Back under.
I did this for another ten breaths, until my head was spinning and I feared I might pass out.
Just my face out. Just until I can breathe again. Until I’m not so dizzy.
I kept my eyes closed and breathed as quietly as I could. I hoped if anyone was looking, I would just look like more lumps in the algae. My face and hair were surely caked with it.
Be still. Don’t move.
When my head settled down, I risked opening my eyes.
A bright golden light burned overhead. The sides of the tank were higher than my face, so I couldn’t see more than the blinding glow. I pushed my head a bit farther out. My ears were clotted with algae, but I could still hear the little feet pattering all around.
Wait. They had to sleep sometime. Surely they did.
It felt like an hour passed before I realized the sounds of feet had tapered off. I listened for long moments. Nothing.
Algae squelched out of my ears when I tried to clear them, pushing a green, slimy finger into each canal. Not making it better.
But the room was quiet.
I couldn’t get my feet under me in the slippery tank, so I had to grasp the sides. If anyone were looking, there was no way they’d mistake me for lumpy algae.
Squinting against the harsh yellow light, I peeped my head over the side.
To my left was a blank wall. To my right, a large, open room.
Growing things were everywhere. The bright golden lights shone down on everything. Black squares of soil in raised beds nurtured long, twisting vines. Other beds held fluffy green tassels, just poking up out of the dirt. Some of the soil in other beds was almost white, with all shades of brown in between. There were hanging tubes with strange fruits dangling from holes. Water tanks sprouting brown, hairy lumps. It was a garden out of a nightmare, but as far as my green-slimed eyes could tell, nothing was moving. No aliens.
Time to move.
My legs were jelly after the slippery ride, but I hauled myself to my feet and clambered over the side of the tank. Green algae splashed around me. Should I try to clean up my footprints? I wiped at my face, but my hands were as slimy as everything else, and all I did was smear it around.
I scuttled around behind the tank and waited. If any aliens were watching, they’d surely come for me.
No one did.
The room was quiet except for the gurgling splash of moving water. I crept out from behind the tank and looked for an exit. Our people wouldn’t be here in this grow-room. It was bright everywhere, and I looked for the large, square shape of the hatchway doors.
There. On the far side of the room, a hatch stood open. Lucky, because I had no idea how I’d open it if it had been closed. The aliens just touched the panels and the doors opened.
Sticking to the wall, I dashed along, crouching behind giant round, white vegetables and tall tanks of black water. On the far side of the room, a row of long white tables stretched the length of the chamber. Each one had a trough down the middle, with little pores at regular intervals in a brown tube that ran above it.
The first trough I passed smelled like nothing I’d ever experienced. Rotten and sour, it turned my stomach. Brown liquid oozed out the pores above the trough and pooled in the long groove. I didn’t pause to investigate.
The next one held a much sweeter-smelling liquid. Pale pink and opaque, it was thicker than the stinky brown stuff.
The third tube spat out little brown seeds that clinked onto the table and rolled toward the center.
The fourth trough oozed an orange liquid that smelled like . . . carrots.
I looked down the length of the groove in the smooth white table. Orange liquid filled the groove all the way down.
You’re not here to learn their farming techniques.
But I had to see.
Crouching down below the level of the table, I followed it across the room. At the end, the liquid dribbled out onto a little ramp. It seemed to get thicker as it descended the ramp, and by the time it had reached floor level, the texture was thick and gelatinous, still smelling strongly of carrots.
A small cart loaded with flat, white trays sat next to the bottom of the ramp. It was full of precisely-cut squares of the orange stuff. The trays on top were still squishy. The ones on the bottom had hardened.
I took one of the squares in my green, crusty hand.
Don’t do it. You don’t know what it is.
I nibbled the edge.
It was carrot.
Noise behind me made me drop the rest of the chunk. I bolted down the length of the table and edged around the open hatchway door.
A long hallway was open before me. The same mottled blue-green as the rest of the ship, it seemed dim after the brightness of the grow-room. Keeping low, I crab-walked the length of it.
The far end of the hall branched, and I chose the right turn for no reason at all.
Another hallway. This one was shorter than the one before it, and I ducked under the low ceiling.
The hallway’s walls ended, and I crept out onto a wide catwalk over a huge, open room below. Crouching low, I peeked over the sides.
The room was filled with long white tables, just like the grow-room. Aliens of all shapes stood at the tables, working with bits of the white plastic-looking material that the tables and weapons the aliens had used appeared to be made of. This was clearly a factory floor, and the little green creatures were hard at work building all the things that made a spaceship work. It looked like a crazy, alien version of Santa’s workshop, only instead of elves making toys, this was aliens making guns. Every alien looked subtly different, though more than one had at least ten legs like the one I called Spider behind its back.
I inched farther down the catwalk. At the far end, the floor was covered in large brown mounds that appeared to come through the wall from another room beyond. At intervals along each of the mounds were small holes. The mounds had an almost woody look, like old vines looped along the floor, dotted with knotholes.
When a green alien approached one of the knotholes, it opened like a mouth. Smooth, white liquid poured out. The alien waited a moment, then picked up the gelatinous material in wide, flat hands perfect for the purpose. It carried the goop to one of the tables and began rolling it into long, flat sheets.
I stared down at the scene. The huge brown vine things were extruding the stuff they made things out of. All along the brown lengths, holes opened and more of the goo oozed out. What a strange factory.
At the end of the catwalk, an open hatchway gaped. Beyond was a dimly-lit, enclosed corridor that angled downward. I crept down the ramp. There was nowhere to hide. If an alien came in either side, I’d be an obvious, giant, crusty green monster against a smooth, yellow-lit wall.
I crouched low and peered around the hatch. The room beyond was huge, bigger than the grow-room. Bigger than the factory I’d just walked over. Bigger than one of the transports we’d left behind on the Delta. The same mottled color as the rest of the ship, it was barely illuminated except a wide pool of light far away in the middle of the chamber. Large, dark, indistinct shapes shadowed every corner.
Finally, somewhere to hide.
I slipped around the hatchway and hunkered down behind a long, dark shape.
There was movement in the room and, as my eyes adjusted, flickering blue light. My eyelids were heavy with algae crust, already starting to dry up on my hair and skin.
I pushed up to kneeling and peered over the edge of the long hump I was hiding behind.
The glowing green face of Doc Walsh stared sightlessly back at me.