His foot slipped on a trail of slime when Casey took a step up the ramp. He dropped to one knee and regained his balance, then looked closely at the ramp.

A thin trail of thick white fluid worked its way up the ramp and into the ship. If the fluid had been red, Casey might have thought a wounded man crawled up the ramp. How much difference was there between a wounded man and a wounded alien?

All animals sought shelter when hurt, he thought. Why would the aliens be any different? Of course, nothing was more dangerous than a cornered and wounded creature. He had seen men turn into monsters when no options for survival remained. He had to assume the alien would react similarly.

Regaining his feet, Casey worked slowly up the ramp until he stood at the open hatch and could see into the spaceship.

A mist like the small cloud under the ship hung over the floor of the craft. It washed in small waves against the dark walls of the ship’s interior, glowing as it lit the way down a short corridor to the heart of the ship.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the spaceship, ducking his head to clear the low hatch.

The mist seemed to cling to his clothes and crawl up Casey’s legs, a frigid touch that numbed his flesh.

Moving as swiftly as his bruised muscles could permit, he walked down the corridor to the opening at the end and leaned against the wall. Quickly, he peeked around the corner, then pulled his head back, waiting for some kind of defensive shot.

Casey’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Then he walked around the corner and examined the compartment.

Movement to one side caught his attention. Casey turned and brought the gun to bear on an alien, dragging itself across the room to a low-lying bench of silver metal.

This was no robot. It was a wounded alien. With each movement, it made more of its blood flow to the floor. Slowly, it rolled to its back and regarded Casey with a remaining eye.

Casey closed on the creature and kneeled to examine it. This was the alien responsible for the deaths of his men and his own injuries. It seemed more like a scientist out of his depths and unable to cope with the changing situation than a monster.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It regarded Casey balefully, the emotion clear in its one good eye, as if he had violated every rule in the book.

Savagely, Casey reached out and snapped the creature’s neck with a quick blow of his hand. He watched it for a minute, then turned his attention to the rest of the compartment and the oddity that he had seen when first looking around the corner.

The television shows of space travel gave no clue to the interior of an operating UFO. This place was a mass of clutter, with piles of assorted equipment leaning against the walls. It was more like the dirty room of a child not persuaded to clean his mess for a year or more.

Damaged machinery lay on the floor, unsorted and useless.

Clothing remained in a small section of the floor, loose items of apparel that told of countless humans who had been unfortunate enough to meet the aliens.

Plants of odd color and shape grew randomly about the room. Perhaps they supplied air for the ship, or food. Casey moved to the center of the room and looked at the man who had once been an actor.

A tank of sorts sat in the center of the room and the body of Bob Harris placed in the well, his corpse jammed into the tight confines until his chin touched his knees and his head lay against the rim of the tank.

A wealth of gray algae was growing on the man with small blooms of brown flowers dotting the surface of the growth. The smell from the tub was unpleasant; it reminded Casey of gangrene, a sickly sweet smell.

There was no way to determine how the man had died and Casey was reluctant to touch the corpse.

The body was more fuel for the idea the alien was a scientist taking random samplings of the human population for experimentation.

A flower moved, and Casey stared at it with sick fascination. The small growth sat atop the dead man’s knees. First, it would move towards the man, then it would sway away, only to repeat the process.

The breath caught in Casey’s throat, bile rising dangerously close to vomiting. The man was alive, and the flower was swaying to his breathing.

A pistol was in his hand and pointed at the actor’s head before Casey realized what he was doing. He was going to kill the man and put him out of his misery, but wisdom said it would be better if he was out of the ship before he destroyed it. He had no way of knowing what a spark would do in the spacecraft.

Casey holstered the gun and searched for a piece of proof that he had been on the ship, something he could wave in Turner’s face while he beat the life out of the man.

Leaning against a pile of debris was a large version of the aliens’ tube weapon. Quickly, he shoved the tube through a loop of his belt and walked to the short corridor.

Turning the corner, he halted.

A small alien stood at the head of the ramp looking into the ship. In its arms was the body of a second alien.