CHAPTER 7: POD PEOPLE

Chad Thunderson was not having a good time.

The pod was tight, designed for efficiency rather than comfort. Its walls were translucent, allowing him to see the hundreds of similar pods stacked around him, each containing a human in various states of panic or unconsciousness.

He'd been awake the whole time, which he was starting to think might be worse than being knocked out. He'd seen the insect aliens moving between the pods, checking displays, occasionally removing one from the stack and taking it... elsewhere. Those pods didn't come back.

Chad had tried everything—punching the pod walls (result: bruised knuckles), shouting for help (result: sore throat), flexing his pecs to try to burst out of the pod like a superhero (result: pulled muscle and wounded pride).

Now he was reduced to his final strategy: talking to his neighbor.

"So like I was saying," he continued, raising his voice to be heard through the pod wall, "these things are definitely harvesting us for protein. I mean, why else would they be so interested in people? My theory is they're looking at Earth like one big GNC store."

His neighbor—a middle-aged woman in business attire who'd introduced herself as Margaret from Accounting—looked like she was regretting ever responding to Chad's initial "hey."

"Could you perhaps contemplate our impending doom in silence?" she suggested.

"No can do, Margaret. Talking helps me think, and thinking is how we're gonna get out of this."

"And what exactly is your escape plan, young man?"

"Working on it," Chad admitted. "But my girlfriend's wicked smart. She's probably already figured out how to stop these bugs. She's into biology and stuff."

Margaret's expression suggested she wasn't putting much stock in Elara's scientific knowledge as their salvation, but Chad remained undeterred. Elara was the smartest person he knew. If anyone could make sense of alien insects, it was her.

A commotion at the far end of the chamber drew their attention. Chad pressed his face against the pod wall, straining to see.

One of the insect warriors had entered, but it seemed different from the others—its carapace was an unusual pink color rather than the blue-green he'd seen so far. It moved with purpose toward the control console at the center of the chamber, the other drones giving it space.

"New model," Chad commented to Margaret. "Fancy color scheme. Kinda reminds me of that protein shake I had that one time when the mixer wasn't cleaned properly after a berry smoothie."

"Fascinating," Margaret said dryly.

The pink alien reached the console, extending a limb to interface with it. Immediately, the lighting in the chamber changed, shifting from the usual eerie green to a softer, amber hue. The stacks of pods began to realign, moving on automated tracks.

"What's happening?" Margaret's disinterest was finally replaced with concern.

"No idea, but something's definitely up. That pink one's doing something the others don't like."

Indeed, the drones and warriors in the chamber were reacting with what looked like confusion, their movements becoming erratic. Some appeared to be trying to intervene with the pink one, but they seemed unable to approach it—stopping short as if hitting an invisible barrier.

Then Chad's pod jerked into motion, sliding out from its position in the stack. Around the chamber, other pods were doing the same—detaching, moving to the center of the room. The pink alien was systematically releasing them.

"Told you," Chad said to Margaret, whose pod was also moving. "Someone's coming through for us."

"I sincerely doubt this is part of a rescue—" Margaret began, but was cut off as all the pods in the central area suddenly cracked open, the tops splitting like eggshells.

Chad didn't wait for an engraved invitation. He burst out of his pod, stumbling slightly as his legs adjusted to movement again. All around him, other humans were doing the same, looking dazed and terrified.

The pink alien turned from the console, scanning the crowd. It's black, pupil-less eyes seemed to be searching for something. Or someone.

Then those eyes locked onto Chad.

The alien moved toward him with startling speed, causing nearby humans to scatter in panic. Chad stood his ground, fists raised in what he hoped was a convincing fighting stance. He'd taken one boxing class at the gym before switching to spin because it had a better soundtrack.

"Back off, bug," he warned. "I'm like, 40% protein by weight. Not worth the trouble."

The alien stopped directly in front of him, head tilted in a way that seemed oddly familiar. Then it spoke—not in clicks and chittering, but in a voice that resonated strangely yet was unmistakably human. Unmistakably...

"Chad. It's me."

Chad's fists lowered slightly. "...Elara?"

The pink alien—Elara?—nodded.

"What... how... you're..." Chad struggled to process what he was seeing. "You're all... buggy."

"I merged with one of their symbiotic organisms," she explained quickly. "It's called a Seedling. It's given me access to their systems, but we don't have time to explain everything now. We need to get these people out of here."

Chad stared at her. His girlfriend was now a pink insect creature with black eyes and no hair, talking about symbiotic organisms and systems. This was so far beyond protein deficiency that he didn't even have a supplement to suggest.

But it was still Elara's voice. Still her mannerisms. Still the way she got straight to the important stuff while he was still processing the basics.

"Okay," he said simply. "What do we do?"

Relief washed over Elara's alien features. "I've disabled the drones temporarily, but it won't last. I need you to lead these people to the transport bay. The System is showing me a path with minimal resistance."

She gestured to a large display that had appeared on the wall—a map of the ship with a highlighted route.