Chapter Text
Deep breath. Center yourself. You’ve dealt with creatures worse than whatever these things are.
Lime's hands had a tremble to them. They were used to that to some degree, no engineer worth their salt didn’t have some extra spices in them. This time, though, the way the pages of Blue’s notebook shook as Lime turned them felt so, so unnatural.
Their visor kept darting to the side of the med bay, the sight of the air vent in the corner giving them conflicted feelings. They'd never felt safer than when they’re blocked in by four sheets of solid steel: The squish against their bone always made them claustrophobic and in turn, helped block out the crippling anxiety they felt on a day-to-day basis. The dark empty med bay made them feel exposed, every shadow casted by blue-lit screens sent a shiver through them, and they wanted nothing more than to crawl into the familiar, cramped safety the air vents provided them.
But they knew better. Right now, scurrying through those vents, trying to sniff them out, is one of the same aliens Red called them crazy for trying to expose. Lime huffed to themselves as they skimmed through another page, finding nothing particularly useful. Maybe if Red had listened to them, they wouldn’t be laying in a bloody heap in Storage. The first thing Lime did when the crew found Red’s corpse, a hole pierced so cleanly through their visor you could see through it, was scavenge.
The body hadn’t even cooled down, and even though Cyan swore it’d bring them bad karma, Lime needed to see what secrets their Captain had been keeping from them. Besides, they’d sold their karma to a levilian witch years ago.
Red’s handbook was all Lime needed to prove their theory wasn’t insane- There was an alien on board, and it likes to kill.
Of course, that didn’t really solve anything outside of stroking Lime’s ego. They had their reasons to keep their physical distance after providing evidence to the nine lunatics on board, but they kept close through the vents. They knew it had to be one of them, but at the same time understood there wasn’t a chance in hell the rest of the crew would survive if attacked. They weren’t going out without any kind of fight, but the others; They don’t have that same drive.
Lime stopped like ice water had been thrown on them, hand halfway through turning the page. They corrected themselves, muttering under their breath. “Don’t-- No, no. They didn’t, past- Past tense, wrong tense...”
Exactly as Lime predicted, they were picked off one by one by the alien freaks. Red was just a sampler; Green went soon after, wounded and left to freeze in the walk-in. Black was only a few hours later, cut straight down the middle and left in two opposite sides of Storage. The pit in Lime’s gut didn’t go away when they ejected Yellow out into the inky abyss, watching as the shell they’d become erupted into pink goop across the Skeld’s windows. While everyone else breathed a sigh of relief, Lime still felt watched. It’s why they weren’t surprised when they found White in the Cafeteria, ripped apart worse than any of the others. Whatever was still lurking, it was getting mad.
But Cyan- Cyan put up more of a brawl than any of them expected. There were bits of flesh under their nails, and Admin was practically ripped to shreds from the fight. Before they were killed, Blue had done tests on that DNA, the notes of which were hidden somewhere in their journals.
Lime bit the inside of their cheek. If they had been listened to just once, then they wouldn’t be down seven crewmates, and they wouldn’t be stuck with—
Lime’s bone jumped out their skin at the sudden knocking on the Med Bay door, loud enough to draw anyone or anything to their location. “Oh for the love’a-“ They hissed, sneaking up and cracking the seal enough to see who was there. The other two crewmates stood like statues in front of the door, Orange squeezing their trust ball in tune with their quick breaths, and Brown lurking slightly behind them, pizza slicer in hand. “What? What’dya want, I’m trying to figure things out without gettin’ caught over here!”
“Can…Can we come in? I’m getting a little bit freaked out, nothing too bad but just a tiny, eensy bit panicky!” Orange said, squeezing faster as they did. Brown kept glancing towards the hall, skeptical.
“No! No, no, if all of us are in the same room, then—” Lime started. Brown shoved a hand through the Med Bay door, pushing it open and past Lime.
“Better chance at survival.” They said, pulling Orange in behind them.
“No, no, no! We’re just sitting ducks now! If the alien-“
“We’ll be ready. Help me with this.” Brown gestured towards one of Blue’s cabinets, handing the slicer to Orange as they walked over and grasped one side of it. “We block off the vent. Purple can’t get in.”
“That thing ain’t Purple,” Lime muttered, but acquiesced, pushing while Brown pulled and successfully covering the vent. “For all we know, Purple never got on board.”
“We-we did a thorough check of every crewmate before we got on board,” Orange said. The slicer made a tick noise with the way their hands shook. “They had a bone then! I swear, I had to sign off on it all!”
“Yeah? Ya didn’t scan me, so you might’ve missed them.” Lime muttered. They moved Orange out of the way, picking the notebook back up from the desk and flipping through the pages. “Hell, I bet the Captain was in on it. Didn’t want no one to know their ol’ buddy was alien scum. We should’a ejected anyone who backed that low life up to begin with-“
“Did you find anything.” Brown interrupted, less of a question and more of a reason to stop them from talking. They weren’t even looking at Lime, visor firmly on the door.
Lime glanced behind them, squinting. “…Did you know?”
“Know what.”
“You know what, know what! Did you know your buddy was an alien? Did you keep that from us?”
Brown still didn’t look. Didn’t even answer. Just kept their grip firmly on their makeshift weapon, hand moving along the grooves in the grip. After a moment, Lime scoffed, turning back away. “Unbelievable. Fuckin’ traitors, all of you. Even you, stupid handsome dead doctor- How the hell is anyone supposed to read squiggles like this?!”
Orange peeped behind them, “Cursive?”
“I’m not cursin’ anything, I’m just cussing out the dead. ‘Hey, I know what kills the aliens, let me just die before I tell any of you!’” Lime snapped the notebook shut, rubbing their temple. “It’s got nothin’, nothin’ for us to actually make use of.”
Lime slipped away from the desk, pacing in circles and muttering under their breath. Orange backed away a few steps, rolling their trust ball in their hands cautiously. “…Are we…Are we going to die?”
“No,” Brown answered.
“Yes.” Lime bit. “I can’t kill a monster if I don’t know how! I can’t- I can’t do shit to stop this thing, so yes, we’re all going to die!”
Orange listened, opting to slide into a spot next to Brown, tugging their legs to their chest. “…Okay,” They said, quietly. They rolled the trust ball one more time before gently offering it up to Brown, “…Trust ball?”
“…Why.” Brown said, taking it nonetheless.
“I don’t know. I didn’t get trained for workplace massacres, I just have a binder for workplace injuries and a lot of balls.”
Brown hummed in understanding, thinking for a moment before saying, “I didn’t know Yellow wasn’t…Yellow. Just thought they were sick. Weren’t acting like themselves. Their pizza just wasn’t hitting the way it used to.”
“Likely story…” Lime muttered, wheezing when Brown chucked the ball at them. “You’re not gettin’ anything out of me. I’m a closed book, alright? Take it back,” They threw the ball back to Orange, who barely caught it.
“Uh. Okay,” Orange mumbled, squeezing it between their hands. “My fun fact is, uhm…I wanted to be an interior designer.”
“Really.” Brown said, glancing at them.
“Yeah. I know discussing future employment opportunities is prohibited, but- It’s not like I’m going to get a write up, am I ‘write?’” They laughed dryly, clearing their throat before continuing. “The firm I was hired by got bought out and shut down by MIRA, and Human Resources was the only place they were hiring for. I stuck around so long I just…haven’t gotten back into it. I-I try to do some design stuff every now and then! Y’know, variety’s the spice of life. That’s why the cafeteria had all those nice plants for a bit-”
“Those were basil plants. We ate those.” Brown added.
“I know. It’s okay, they tasted good…” Orange sighed, letting the room sink into silence.
Eventually, Lime’s pacing came to a stop, staring at the door on the other side. The cafeteria was feet away, the only source of freedom rubbing itself against Lime’s brain. “…Hey,” They said, “If I get in the trash chute, would you guys eject me?”
“What?” Orange jumped, scrambling to their feet, “No, no, no suicide! Especially assisted suicide!”
“What other option do we have, huh? Get eaten alive? Flayed? It’s a choice between firing squad and lethal injection, and I’m not letting some freak pop me like a balloon! I’d rather get blasted into the cold void of space, thank you very much!” Lime snapped, charging at the door.
Orange looked between themselves and Brown, rushing to grab the back of Lime’s overalls. “We can still do- do anything else! I- I really don’t think it’s company policy for me to help another crewmate kill themselves!” They said, their voice having a noticeable tremble. Lime dragged them forward with each step, refusing to stop even as Orange pleaded, “Please, I can’t…I can’t kill someone! I can barely keep up with this as is, I couldn’t—”
“What? Couldn’t live with yourself? Then don’t! No one’s saying you’ve gotta become lunch either!” Lime shrugged them off, spinning around and immediately feeling regret. Orange was visibly shaking, visor fogging with what was either tears or panic. Guilt wracked Lime, and they quickly cleared their throat. “Look. We have nothin’ else. If I die, I want it to be on my terms. You should feel the same.”
“…I don’t want to die at all,” Orange said, wringing their hands. “I want to go home.”
“Too bad. Without a way to kill this thi—”
“Salt.”
Orange and Lime looked back at Brown. “Wha-?” Lime said, examining the deadly serious look on Brown’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“Yellow’s pizza tasted off ‘cause was missing flakey salt. They never made it without it. It was their watermark.” Brown said, stepping past both of them. “If the alien could made a perfect replica of the original, then why skimp out on salt?”
“Maybe- Maybe it’s too much sodium?” Orange offered, looking between them.
“Or it’s the alien’s weakness.” Brown undid the seal on the door, letting it slide open with a pop. “Only one way to find out.”
