The Thing in the vents that eats people

7

I, to quote Weaver, "abso-fucking-lutely" hate this.
"We understand that you talked to some of the other passengers and got spooked."
"Yeah it's completely understandable, all those halls alone, your first time in space—,"
"It's just so easy to see things up here—,"
"It's not my first time in space. I was not hallucinating. I still have slime on my jacket," I say, clutching my mother's jacket possessively as I sit in front of the Admiral and a few of his high ranking friends. They have access to the video feeds and of course saw me get nearly eaten.
"There's just not a lot to go on."
"A few grainy videos—,"
"The last thing we want to do is cause mass hysteria—,"
"But there should be mass hysteria! There's an uncontained Kestryl living in the vents and eating people! It nearly ate me!" I cry.
"See? Emotional," Admiral Stranton says.
"Yeah it's an emotional subject—people are dying and you're not even warning them," I groan.
"And we understand as a young man you want to be the hero."
"What kind of a phrase is that? Want to be the hero—like it's a bad thing. Aren't we meant to want to be heroes?" I ask, frowning at them, "And what does the nature of my genitalia have to do with wanting to be a hero or not?"
It is at this point in the discussion that Weaver, who of course is still on my comm and has been making comments to the effect of 'and you wonder why I hate people' and 'don't you see why people suck?', the entire time, just chokes on whatever it is he was eating and starts hacking and laughing uncontrollably while trying to spit out: "I can't believe you just said that out-loud fucking BALLS, Candy, mental fucking high five."
The admirals, for their part, stare at me for a moment which gives me time to say.
"I want to kill it because a thing like it killed my family, yes, but also because it's eating people on this ship and I happen to want them to get to their destination safely. I lost my family, I don't want that to happen to anyone else. Not if I can help it. And it's not going to work I know I'm probably going to die trying but trying is better than pretending it's not real," I say, impassioned, and very seriously given Weaver is still wheezing with laughter on the comms.
"See? This is why all the hysteria about the thing in the vents that eats people just gets blown out of proportion," Admiral Stanton says.
"We just don't have enough information yet to make a qualified decision, it's too soon. A few people thinking they see things, is not enough to cause a ship wide lock down—,"
"If the thing they see is an actual interplanetary being, that is feeding on us one by one, yes that is completely, enough to mildly inconvenience people in order to save their lives," I say.
"It's not a prison ship."
"Yeah we don't lock people up, you have to understand, that isn't our job."
"We aren't jailers."
"I've been locked up! For years! Because you people all think I'm a monster and I'm trying to help you so I must not be a monster, you're afraid of all the wrong things. You're your own monsters. And yes it's not fun to be locked away in a cage it's fucking horrible but if it was between that and death I think the choice is easy—also it's not cages, it's their rooms, or rooms without vents, very organized, there are evacuation and containment procedures—,"
"Look, this is the sort of thing we're hoping to avoid."
"In cases like these everybody becomes the expert."
"I'm not becoming an expert I'm following plans clever people wrote up for this very situation," I groan.
"You might want to, you know, give up," Weaver, with his mouthful.
"How about you go back to your pod and get some rest, eh?" Admiral Stanton says, nicely,  "After the journey you had it's no wonder you're seeing things with all these rumors flying around."
"They're not rumors if they're true! You're all the worst, I wish you'd died instead of my moms they at least did things for the universe," I snarl, unbuckling myself and floating to the door.
That speech makes Weaver laugh so hard he starts chocking again. "I can't, I can't fucking believe you just said that to them. Fucking balls of steel man I'm so fucking proud of you, stick it to the man."
He's still saying such things and chocking and trying to chug water and the laughing again when I get up there. I mostly go to fume and so that he doesn't actually choke to death. Turns out half his problem is he's still shoveling food in his mouth while arranging freeze frame screen shots that he took of the Admiral's faces at various points of my speech. He's making some sort of slide show I assume for his own entertainment.
"They are insane," I say.
"They're people, man, told you they suck," he says, staring at the feed.
"I know but really!" I sigh, putting my hands through my hair, "What are we supposed to do?"
"At this point? Let them die?"
"You don't mean that; you do your 'thing in the vents that eats people' announcements," I say.
"Don't you dare make me out to be a nice person. I'll scream rape," he says, with no emotion, while shoveling chips in his mouth and trying not to spill the bag. "Here, I brought you a present."
"Is it the high five?" I ask.
"No, Jesus you have a low bar," he says, handing me a bag of—-SUGAR???
"Thank you," I start crying, clutching it, "Is it really for me?"
"It was a joke because you eat so much candy but if you love it that much, yes?" He shrugs, bemused.
I nod very hard, shoveling spoonfuls of sugar into my greedy mouth.  I never got sugar, raw sugar. It was only a treat if I was very, very good and did well on all the little tests. It's my favorite thing ever and sometimes just to be nice my mama would give me a spoonful of it. Never a full bag all my own. I never thought I'd have this much of it. I'm so hungry. I'm always hungry but I have to wait and eat candy and let myself digest the sugars which takes more energy.
"Are you crying? Did you not have sweets as a child? Wait that's not gonna kill you is it?" Weaver watches with concern.
"Thank you," I whisper, hoarsely.
"You're welcome," he says, frowning suspiciously.
"Can I keep it?" I mumble, past a mouthful of sugar.
"Yeah you can keep it! Please do not eat it all at once and go into a sugar coma. If you love it that much there's more where that came from based off the last five minutes I probably shouldn't tell you this but they have bags of the stuff in the kitchen, ripe for the taking. That's where I got that."
"No like keep the bag, to remember it by," I say, clutching the now empty bag. I don't have many things that mean someone loved me. Just my mama's necklace, and my mama's jacket, and then my mother's journals. That's it.
"Sure....—? WAIT YOU ATE ALL THAT?" He turns around completely.
I nod.
"Fucking hell you're gonna die," he mutters.
I fold up the sugar bag very carefully to put in my pocket.
"Can I ask you something?" He asks.
I nod, happily, coming over to float next to him near the screens. He did give me a verbal high five earlier I wonder if he'll give me a real one if I hang about close enough.
"Never mind," he shakes his head, staring at the screen.
"Well, now we know that the big chap can't find me," I say, looking at the screens with him.
"Please don't go where I think you are."
"So that will make it easier for me to kill it," I say, confidently.
"And you went there. All right. Look. The thing cannot be killed that's 99% of the problem, Candy," Weaver rubs his face. "We can't kill it, not on this ship."
"We have to try, to at least injure it enough that we can slow it down somehow," I say.
"That probably won't work," Weaver predicts.
"I know," I say, quietly.
"But you're gonna try anyway."
"I'm going to try anyway."
"Look you know what I've—-I've been taking stock of my stores. I blocked off the vents up here weeks ago, if you ate slightly less candy than you currently do then we could probably make it to Alpha Centari," he says, slowly, "With less people, there'd be more oxygen and you don't even need the oxygen apparently—,"
"What—are you suggesting we hide up here? And let it eat all of them?" I scoff.
"It's not like we didn't warn them," Weaver snarls, staring at the screen, "We did try."
"I can't do that. No, things like that killed my family," twice, "I don't have anywhere to go, no home, no family." I won't fit in with species they probably wouldn't even recognize me. I don't really remember my language anymore. "I can't just let those people all die."
"So you're just going to die trying?" He snarls, pulse rising with anger.
"Yeah, probably, well at least I tried," I say.
"Have fun with that then," Weaver says, going back to the screens, "Don't count on any help from me. Die as quickly as you like."
"Fine," I cry, angry tears springing from my eyes.
I make my way back to the main level, wiping my eyes, fully miserable. I hardly notice which way I'm going, but I don't have the heart to take out the comm unit in my ear. I want to hear in case Weaver does decide to talk to me again.
"Are you okay?" I nearly run into Ridley outside the mess. She's clearly been collecting discarded food packets to forage.
"No," I admit, sighing, "I just fought with my friend—you really shouldn't be out here."
"Why? Is the thing in the vents that eats people more likely to eat me here than anywhere else?" She asks.
Almost on cue, a tentacle snakes out of the vents, sucking her up, instantly snapping her neck. The hall was crowded, so naturally people scream, including me. I try to drag the child back but it's too late. She's long since dead.
More tentacles drop from the vents, wrapping around people and swiftly snapping necks as it drags them up into the vents to feed. I open the hatch to one of the stairwells, hoping to help people escape. It does not work.
Tentacles shoot up out of the tube, wrapping around fleeing passengers and slapping me merciless.
I force my heartrate down. If it gets me now I'm no good. I need to stay alive and to do that I need to drop into a coma.
The tentacles snake around me through the carnage, but do not reach me. I have no idea why it's gotten so active and hungry now, probably spawning, but it hardly matters. I cling to the wall and lower my breathing as much as I dare as I watch the crew and passengers of the Orpheus 7 get ritualistically slaughtered.
Oh, and while this is going on, Weaver, my ex-friend, is on the giant voice system singing 'Save the Last Dance' in a completely unhelpful manner.