Page 43 of Stripped By the Alien

The tunnel pulses again. My knees slide forward an inch before the surface steadies. I don't like that at all.

The passage widens ahead, and a stronger orange glow spills through it. It isn't the dim light we've been following. This is real illumination, bright enough to paint the tunnel walls in amber and gold. I crawl forward more cautiously and peer through the opening.

For several seconds I can only stare.

Below stretches a chamber so vast my mind struggles to measure it. Rivers of glowing liquid surge through channels thicker than city streets. Enormous muscular walls contract and force the streams onward in steady waves. Every few moments columns of white-orange flame erupt upward with a roar that I feel through the tunnel floor. The light from the center of it is blindingly white.

The heat slams into my face hard enough to make me recoil. “Dear God.”

Lucius drifts beside me and looks down through the opening. “A central power plant of sorts,” he says. “An organic furnace to power the ship. I did wonder how it can travel in space. If this is part of the propulsion system, it’s immensely exotic.”

The chamber seems impossibly large. Fire rolls through it in controlled bursts. Glowing streams disappear into deeper channels before emerging again farther away. The entire space feels less like a machine room and more like the inside of a gigantic predator. Or a sun.

“We should go,” I say.

For once Lucius doesn't argue. “There’s no radiation, astonishingly. But I agree. Let’s go.”

I begin backing away from the opening while trying not to think about how close we are to whatever this thing actually is. The floor beneath my hands suddenly ripples.

At first I think I imagined it. Then it happens again. The living membrane contracts, and my hand slips. I slide forward a foot before catching myself.

“Is it trying to push us in?”

“Yes,” Lucius says.

The floor ripples a third time. This time I slide farther. My stomach tightens. The contractions aren't random. They're moving in a direction. Every pulse pushes toward the chamber below.

Toward the fire, the organic furnace.

I try to crawl backward. Another contraction rolls through the tunnel and sends me forward again.

“Shit!”

The drone darts closer as the walls tighten around us. The tunnel squeezes. The floor tilts. Suddenly I'm moving much faster than before.

Panic crashes into me. I dig my fingers into the soft membrane. The material stretches under my grip and offers almost no purchase. Another contraction passes through the tunnel and drags me forward again.

“No. No, no, no!”

The heat intensifies immediately. My face feels as though I've opened an industrial furnace door and leaned directly into it. Tears spring into my eyes. The banner flutters around my legs in the rising currents of superheated air.

“Captain!” Lucius shouts.

He catches the edge of my makeshift clothing with his manipulator arm and pulls. For a moment I think it might work. Then the fabric tears with an ugly screech and I’m being rolled out of the wrap.

The understanding hits me with horrifying clarity: This isn't a malfunction. The Beast knows I'm here. Everything I've seen since entering this tunnel has been part of its body, and now that body is carrying me somewhere.

The tunnel contracts again. I lurch forward.

Now I'm close enough to see details inside the chamber below. The light and heat are intense. Muscular structures squeeze and churn around them. Sheets of shimmering heat distort the air.

The hair on my arms begins to curl. A sharp smell reaches me: burning cloth.

I look down and see a thin thread of smoke rising from the edge of the wrap.

Fear turns into outright terror. I claw at the tunnel floor until my fingernails bend backward. Pain shoots through my hands. Nothing slows me. Every pulse of the living passage drags me closer to the opening.

Another wave of heat washes over my face. Pain flares across my cheeks. My lips feel dry and cracked. Drawing a breath hurts. The air itself seems hot enough to scorch my throat.