The Thing in the vents that eats people

6

"Gooooood Moooorning Orpheus 7!!!"
I jerk, slapping my ear as I try to turn the volume on the comm down even lower. That plus the giant voice Weaver is really trying to deafen me. He was still asleep when I left this morning to go get in line for mess. I already ate plenty of sugar but I thought I ought to make a showing and check the listing board of chores. I wasn't on it, but I did check so that's the main thing.
"The thing in the vents that eats people had a quiet night, considering it's not even officially here. But if I were you I'd avoid the vents near the salon the this morning, or at least until we locate all of Martha except her right leg—-and now the weather!!!"
I sigh, as I work my way through the line. Breakfast does not smell appetizing, and I really don't like standing in nice juicy groups. The morning mess hall goers don't seem to care though. Then there are some panicked passengers who are grabbing food for whole families and bolting because they are terrified of the thing in the vents that eats people. I don't blame them, however they could stop cutting the line. That's not going to make it go away. I am, or, at least, I'm going to try.
I collect my bag of breakfast. Mostly things is cold packs, mostly gross and full of protein, though I find a box of raisins so those have a decent amount of sugar.
"Hey, wanna do a trade?" The little girl from yesterday is there in front of me, holding her bag, arms folded. Ridley her name was.
"Is this really for your brother?" I ask, handing her the rest of my bag. I'm not going to eat it.
"No. It's for me," she admits, tucking it under her other arm.
"Where are your parents?" Don't they share their rations with you?
"Dead. They died when the thing in the vents that eats people first got on board. But nobody will tell me that. They just say that they're in the infirmary still, but I know," she shrugs.
"So who's looking out for you?" I ask, frowning, she is little.
"No, no, no against my will I am forced to care for you as my pet you do not get to have a pet," Weaver snarls into my earpiece. I ignore him completely.
"No one, my parents aren't officially dead, because we're supposed to pretend we ain't infested," she says, finding a small breakfast patty in the package and beginning to eat it. "Have you seen it yet?"
"Not yet, I'm on my way to find it, look out for——line," I snarl, because Weaver wasn't going to help.
"Last I saw salon and barber shop," very saucily, sounds like while eating.
"—-away from the shops today, all right?" I ask, patting her arm,  "Stay safe."
"Why? Are you a monster hunter or something?" She asks, watching me as I crawl down the hall.
"Something like that," I say.
"No, no, no sweetheart, you are monster FOOD, not monster hunter, monster food, you are a thing in the vents that eats people sandwich," Weaver says, in my ear. For someone who said he didn't want to talk to me he talks to me an awful lot and narrates what I'm doing with no provocation.
"Well trying to be optimistic, I'm going to go and see if I can commander a stun gun, I'm aware it won't kill it, but if I overheat the gun I might be able to wound it," I say.
"That will never work but you do you. The thing in the vents that eats people—,"
"For the sake of time when I'm probably going to be running for my life, can you think of something shorter to call it?" I sigh, as I try to scan my way into a shaft to the military weapons room.
"Okay. Fine. the big chap is two floors up in the vents of the eighth ladder."
"I'm on the eighth ladder," I say, feeling my breath catch, "Crawling up."
"I know that Candy that is why I am telling you relevant as fuck information."
"Shit, shit," I say, crawling down, "Where is now?"
"Headed down, take a left—fuck a right, make that a right—nope your other right, got it, head for the galleys I'm going to lock off the tunnel you're in."
"You can do that?" I pant, as the door seals behind me.
"Don't be too impressed. He shouldn't be in there with you now."
"Why do you call them he?" I ask, frowning, just as the vent explodes and a tentacle slides out.
The tentacle is a sick green yellow, and quickly snakes towards my foot. I shoot away, dodging up against the wall that vent is on. The tentacle slaps for me.
"Go up, I'll open the door—shit he's there as well, Candy, hang on I can—"
I slap the comm into silence, slowing my breathing and pulse down to near nothing. The thing operates on an acute sense of hearing when hunting, just as I do. But my species has adapted long since to be able to calm our heart rates. I can't fully explain how I'm doing this, there is no logical human explanation. But charming my way out of something is better than dying today. Weaver might feel bad, he led me here and he couldn't get me out.
The tentacle slaps right over my face, but I've calmed everything to a state of near catatonia, I'm just floating, waiting to wake up. And even if it does feel me it knows I won't taste half as good as the many humans roaming the ship.
Another tentacle slides over my chest, then it's gone, slipped back into the vents.
I tap back on my comm, "You there, Weaver?" I breath, as I slowly start to pull myself back to functioning.
"Yeah I'm not the one who almost got eaten. Are you insanely lucky or you holding out on me?" He laughs. So he is pleased I'm alive? "How much fucking cyborg are you if it didn't know you from the wall?"
"Pretty close to a 100%," I say, softly. It's as close as I can get to telling him the truth.
"Hell's bells, Candy," he exhales into the microphone, "That beats a factory reject heart any day."
"Not really," I say, slowly clenching and unclenching my fist as I get feeling back into my limbs, "I don't know if I mind being this way. I used to always want to be human. But sometimes I sit alone and try not to mind being someone else."
"You're someone else all right, now get out of there. The big chap might come back and decide he wants cyborg on toast."
"Will do," I say, actually smiling now. I hate the lie. But it feels so much like the real thing it's refreshing to talk to somebody about how I feel. And he doesn't judge me either or treat me like I'm different.  I mean I am different. But even so. I don't think I mind this.