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Even when Green closed their eyes, their surroundings didn't look any different. It was dark, so so dark. Dark, cold, and cramped. It was how they imagined being in space to feel. You know, except the cramped part, since space is very not-cramped.
If Green's muscles did not voice their sore complaint about the tight space around them, if that pink gelatinous goo did not linger in their mouth and on their clothes in an uncomfortable squishing sensation, Green would have thought they were dead.
But death would be far better than this. Better than being an alien's flesh puppet. Every time, the amalgamation of tentacles and pink mass would force its way into their mouth, completely overwhelming everything that's inside them. Talking, laughing, walking as if there was nothing wrong.
All Green could do was watch through their own eyes as their body acted on the accord of another, carried out lies, sabotage, and murder.
They'd seen the same thing happen to Orange, but their alien never shedded their skin. It's like they became one with their host, consuming everything human inside until only their own matter remained.
Green's alien was different. It felt more... alive. It acted on violent urges rather than necessity like Orange. It was harder for it to stay in character. Its true nature was too bold, too pronounced to truly be masked.
At the same time, it didn't feel like an animal. In fact, it felt so viscerally, so uncomfortably human. An animal doesn't brag about its kills, an animal doesn't manipulate people into turning on each other, an animal doesn't take pleasure in its prey's suffering. Instead of hollowing out Green like it was supposed to, it kept them alive and squirming.
It kept them alive to listen to their muffled cries, to feel their fruitless resistance as it invaded them. To look them straight in the face and see how scared they are of it.
Then once 'Green' had to make themselves scarce, their body was stuffed into a vent, unable to move without the alien bending their anatomy so drastically. One final taunting tentacle brushing by their face, and the alien went off in search of more prey.
Three people had died already. The real Orange, Blue, and…
White and Green may not have been nearly on the same level, in personality or social status, but they were both new, and to Green, that was enough to consider them a potential friend. They liked to behave as if they were a movie star, the main character of the story.
But Green would be lying if they said they weren't a sucker for those kinds of characters. In every old movie they have watched, their favorite character was the hero. Not just the virtuous ones, but the ones who are arrogant and cocky, who see their error of their ways and become more caring people. White just had that 'love to hate them' charm that made them endearing. And they could even be nice when they weren't trying to make themselves look good.
Blue's death wasn't fun to watch, especially knowing that they were so close to the truth, that they could help them, all for those hopes to be dashed when Green's jaw was unhinged, and the alien tore off their face.
But White's? Seeing their bravado put down like a dying dog and replaced by primal fear and above all, betrayal? That sight won't leave Green for the rest of their life, long or short as it might end up being.
That's part of why Green wished the alien had just killed them from the get-go. It was one thing to watch yourself commit murder from the outside, it was another to be inside your own head and yet still unable to stop it.
All of that, and the alien imposter still wasn't done. There would be more. The bodies would just keep piling, and so would Green's guilt. Would they be the only survivor? Or were they just being saved as the perfect last bite; the cherry on top?
Who else would die? Red? Purple? Black? Brown? All of them? How much more blood would be spilled until the imposters were caught? Or until the aliens were satisfied? Would they ever be satisfied? Could an appetite for blood like that ever be sated?
"Eugh, what's this gooey shit 'ere? Oh god, the alien's in the vents! I shoulda known they'd come into my sanctum! This means war, you freak a' nature! This means--- Ow! Whoda hell clogged the vent?!"
"...Lime...?"
The grease-covered mechanic rubbed their forehead where they ran into Green's shoe. It was dark, but they still recognized the sound of a voice, and the silhouette of a person.
"Wait, is this the goddamn intern?!"
"Lime... please... help me..." Green could barely speak, pink goo nearly clogging their throat, but they managed a few words. Enough they hoped that Lime would understand their plight, or at least knew to help them.
"Christ, kid, how the hell did you get down 'ere? Come on, let's get you out! There's a grate up ahead! ...probably."
An unfathomable amount of strain was put on Green's poor joints, and their bare skin scraped against hot loose metal painfully, but slowly but surely, Lime was able to push them forward until the blackness that plagued their vision was broken by slivers of dim white light.
They forced themselves to squeeze their way up, and they felt the vent lift up and clatter to the floor, now open. With a few more shoves from Lime, Green was out. Once they collapsed on the floor of what appeared to be storage, they gasped for air, suddenly feeling like they could breathe again. Upon trying to exhale, they were stopped by a cough, and what came out of their mouth was the sludge previously clogging their throat.
Lime emerged as well and gave Green's back a good slap to help them cough up the last of the slime.
"Hey, that's the same stuff that was on White and Blue! What'd you do to them, alien scum?!" Lime pointed at Green a makeshift weapon, loaded with... water?
"I'm not... I'm not an alien..." Green wheezed, still on the ground. They weren't even alarmed by Lime's accusation, they were just grateful that they could finally talk to someone. "Alien... bodysnatcher... Used... used me to kill White and... and Blue..."
"A bodysnatcher! Makes sense why that pink stuff's inside ya rather than outside," Lime muttered. "Of course! Those damned freaks can fit themselves into anything! Including a living crewmate!"
"Please... we need to... hide," Green had finally realized the gravity of their situation. Who knows how long it will take for the alien to realize their toy wasn't in the toybox, and that someone had gotten them out?
"I'll do ya one better! I'll kill the bastard before it even has a chance!"
"Wait... Lime... Orange is...!"
Too late. Lime had run off without a second thought. As much as they doubted that weapon's effectiveness, all Green could do now was pray.
They dragged themselves across the smooth, blissfully cool floor and tucked in between two large crates, to at least try to stay out of sight. But that also meant they had very little visibility. So any set of footsteps that came their way could be friend or foe. Crewmate or imposter. They just had to trust that they would recognize Lime’s frantic sprinting, or that Lime would use the vents.
Faintly, they heard everyone rushing around, yelling something. Green wished they could see what’s going on, but if ‘Orange’ saw them, they’d be busted. And they have no qualms with killing them. Besides, they felt too drained. It was like the alien had sucked the life out of them. Which it probably has.
Hopefully, once Lime comes back, they can stay together, they can protect Green, and together, the two of them can tell the rest of the ship what’s going on.
Hah. If only it were that simple.
However, things quickly got… complicated.
“Oh Greenie…~ I know you’re here, so why don’t you come out and say hi?”
No. No no no, oh god no. That voice was familiar, heartachingly familiar. But hearing it right now only filled Green’s heart with dread. How else are you supposed to feel about a voice of the dead calling out to you?
Green didn’t dare open their mouth, didn’t dare respond. Because as much as they’d dreamed of seeing them again, talking to them again… They knew this wasn’t White.
And yet the haughty, heeled footsteps of their friend echoed into the wide storage room. Muscle memory must be helping the alien match their gait. Green had to fight every instinct screaming at them to turn and look. To see if their friend was really back, even though they knew the answer.
“Aww, didn’t you miss me, intern? Oh wait, I know you did! Because I’m all you think about. Every trick and every kill, you think of me. Poor White, the first to die. Well, at least publicly. Head sliced right off. And you got a front row seat.”
This definitely isn’t imposter Orange. This kind of knife-twisting taunting could only come from the alien inside Green, the one who’s been inside their head, who knows what and who they think about, whether they like it or not.
“…I can hear you, you know. I can hear you breathe, and your heart beat. I can even hear your limbs trembling. You’re terrified. Because you don’t know what I’m going to do to you. Will I kill you? Stuff you back into the vent? Seize control of you? Well, you can forget about the former, because I still need a disguise, and a dead guy isn’t gonna cut it.”
They were getting closer. It's like they were making themselves as loud as possible on purpose, so Green knows exactly how close they are to them.
“Look, I get it. You’re scared of me, and you want as much of a chance as possible to escape me. Well, hate to break it you sweetheart, but it’s kinda hard to escape something when you’re stuck on a crumpled little ship with it. Even if you manage to double your chance of escape, spoiler alert, two times zero equals zero! That being said… Wouldn't it be nice to see your friend again? At least for a minute?”
Green shouldn’t, they really shouldn’t, but they listened. They heard out what the imposter had to say.
“White really liked you, you know. You may not have picked up on it, but they were head over heels for you. You were the one thing money couldn’t buy. You didn’t care who they were, you just thought they were cool. So when you, or rather I, asked them to meet me alone in medbay… I’d say they thought they were about to finally get lucky with you.”
“It’s— It’s lying… It has to be… There has to be a chance somehow, and that… thing is just trying to mess with me and dissuade me… Right?”
Green wanted to believe it. But deep inside, that part of them that had given up… It told them that there really was no escape. How could they? They were in the middle of space, the only thing waiting for them outside the ship was nothingness. Bone-freezing nothingness. Was that really any better than their fate here?
Was there really no hope for them?
White’s eyes were open and looking around, but they still had the cloudy blankness of death tinging them. Their limbs were moving, but they still had the telltale stiffness of rigor mortis. Something cropped up in the corner of their vision, and they turned towards it, going still.
It was Green, struggling to stand, leaning on the metal crates of Ore+ as they did so. Green eyes, sad and scared, focused entirely on White.
“Knew you were in here. The storage vent is the closest one to where I stashed you,” White said casually with a shrug. “I wouldn’t hold out any hope for Lime, by the way. Orange made pretty quick work of them. That weapon was ridiculous. I mean, holy water? We’re not demons here.”
The imposter walked over and leaned on the crate next to Green, smirking that too-white smirk White always had, like White had left teeth-whitening strips on for too long.
“Now that we’ve skipped the drama, why don’t you go ahead and pucker up, Greenie?”
“What…?!”
“Come on, you two were making secret little googoo eyes at each other, I’m an alien, not blind,” the imposter rolled their eyes. “This is what White would have wanted. One last kiss with the object of their affections. I mean, what do you have left? There’s nothing else for you to lose, Green. Don’t you want this one small comfort?”
They did, god they really did. Because the rest of their days on the Skeld would be nothing short of hell. Isn’t this the least Green can do for themselves? To have one last at least somewhat pleasant memory before the alien makes a puppet out of them again?
Green took the plunge. They pressed their lips to White’s lifeless ones. Cold hands crept along their waist, their back, their neck, settling on running fingers through Green’s unkempt brown curls.
That was the last sense of peace they’d ever have, and it was from kissing a cadaver. A cadaver whose tongue was replaced by an alien tentacle tasting and ravaging Green’s mouth as thoroughly as it could. It was gross, it was wrong, and it wasn’t White.
But it was something. And something was better than nothing.