Once again, Slippy made an effort to calm and comfort himself. Even so, he felt more alone, powerless, and panicky than he ever had before. He fidgeted about about in the hall in front of the door leading to the cockpit. Slippy couldn't bear to think of that door. After what must've been an hour, Slippy heard something. Or not heard so much as felt, thought. It was another invasive thought.
Yes, he's dead. He tasted good too. It said in Slippy's mind before bursting into evil laughter. Slippy held his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut so hard that it made his temples hurt. He knew the cause of this was just a few feet on the other side of the door, but he couldn't take even looking at such an evil thing. He performed the zero-gravity equivalent of running back the other way, still squeezing the sides of his head and squinting.
He reached the galley, floated about and collided with a chair. He didn't care, but stopped, hanging in the middle of the room amongst the pots and pans and utensils, and let his mind go blank. He dozed into a restless, uncomfortable sleep.
When he awoke, he found himself amongst pulled wiring and shattered circuits. The place he inhabited was dark, too dark for him to tell where he was. A single light flickered, illuminating the occasional control panel or medicine bottle. Here a coil, there a replacement EM valve. And then, he saw it. A glimmer of movement. He snapped his head towards it, only he couldn't. His head was bound with something. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fox, slumped forward with one arm in the air. Stone dead, although nothing should have changed that from when he died and now. Slippy vomited, streaks of blood visible in the dim light as it splattered a screen between the two hatches.
He then recognized the thing, although it had changed again. It was now a weird, icky mass of tentacles. When it turned, though, Slippy barely avoided vomiting again. There were at least four eyes, the visible ones arranged in a trapezoid. The tongue was a three-appendage thing around a set of inner fangs. Tendrils pulsed all over it. It had sprouted another set of arms and legs.
The thing toyed with Slippy, first just sort of smiling and baring its fangs, then with the alien thoughts again.
I know what you're thinking, it thought to him, you know what fate awaits you. I hope you're as tasty as your friend here. At that point, Slippy lost it. Not his breakfast, though, his temper. He madly pulled at the mass of sticky substance that secured him to the console. The thing laughed. It's always fun when they struggle, it said, moving towards him. Unbeknowest to it, Slippy's arm was free and he'd procured an extremely long, jagged shard of metal.
The thing bared its fangs at Slippy again, the three tongues coming together into a dome then splitting back apart. Slippy knew that he only had one chance.