The tentacled being floated through space in a ball of ice.
Smack! It hit the surface of a massive object. The ice cracked. The being was freed. Its tentacles tasted the object. Not food. The being’s stomach churned in hunger. It could not last much longer. It searched the object in desperation, tentacles clinging, pulling, and prying at every crevice.
An opening formed. Air blasted outward. The being almost blew away, but with determination, squeezed itself inside.
Noises blared above. “Decompression! Ship losing oxygen. Mayday!”
It tasted the air. It was full of pheromones, of fear, of food. At last…
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Phantom by Liam Dragan"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Neuroluxe Implant no 3Z82M99B64 by Bryanna Botham"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Blindly Following Orders by Chris Tattersall"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Donor by Collette Night"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>