Submitted for the July 2025 prompt: Aliens Among Us

The morning after the Arvirargus asteroid mission, I wake as though the ship is under full thrust — muscles knotted, lungs crushed, skull hammering. Classic Threnix Flu symptoms. I’ll visit the infirmary on my way—

 

“Morning, Frank.” A shipmate slaps my shoulder as he flickers past.

 

Where’d he come from? And how’d I get past bulkhead 9? I was heading to the infirmary.

 

I do an about-face.

 

The infirmary door whispers open. “Hey doc, I feel horrible—”

 

“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?”

 

“Flu-like symptoms. I’m blacking out and,” my voice creaks in my throat, “my brain itches.”

 

The doc stares at me. Like he’s waiting for me to say something.

 

Then it hits me — a wet scraping sound, a scuttling, like beetles gnawing behind my eyes. The itch grates under my scalp.

 

My mouth opens. Words spill out, but they don’t belong to me. “I just stopped by to see if you needed anything for the briefing later.”

 

The doc shakes his head. And I’m walking. Fast. Down the corridor.

 

Except I’m not moving my legs.

 

I try to stop, but my legs keep pumping. The itch scrapes and the scuttle claws at my skull.

 

“STOP!” I scream.

 

My legs freeze. The scuttle itch abruptly dies — oh sweet relief. Only the hum of electronics and air handlers remains.

 

A hallucination? Have I gone space crazy?

 

I’m moving again. Short, jerky steps.

 

I tense my legs, forcing myself still.

 

My eyes twitch. Fear pricks at my chest.

 

The scuttle itch snaps at me like a switch, searing, screeching. My brain feels like it’s under high voltage. I scream, but silence is all—

 

I’m in my quarters, leaning into the mirror, inches from my own reflection. My features are emotionless. But my eyes rage.

 

The scuttle itch erupts in my skull.

 

Then my mouth curls into words. “How are you still here?”

 

“It's my body.” My mouth repeats the words. I can still speak. Relief rushes over me. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”

 

My head swivels slowly in the mirror’s reflection. “You should’ve expired while we slept. This is a problem.”

 

“How did you get in my body in the first place?”

 

“Not important. What to do with you is.”

 

The overhead speaker chirps. “Lieutenant Schumacher, report to your duty station immediately.”

 

“If I don’t report, they’ll send somebody to look for me.”

 

My body spins like a top and leaves the room. I’m along for the ride again.

 

“Wait until my shipmates see us. They’ll know you’re not me.”

 

The scuttle itch rakes my skull.

 

“Yeah, screw you—"

 

Lieutenant Kurosaki is on the floor, convulsing. Her shoes rattle the deck.

 

Two crew members kneel over her.

 

“Why aren’t you helping her?” All eyes turn toward me. The scuttle itch roars behind my—

 

My forehead presses against my reflection. Breath fogs the mirror. Lips quiver in sync with the gnawing scuttle.

 

“Your body belongs to me now. You can’t change that.”

 

“You’re scared? You can be removed from my body, and you’re scared my shipmates will find out about you. If you talk to us, maybe we can help you.”

 

“My species is far too advanced for your comprehension. That’s why I’m in control.”

 

“We’ll see about that.” I imagine thrusting my head forward, into the mirror.

 

Pain splinters across my forehead.

 

My passenger steps back, its surprise reflected in the shattered mirror. Blood glides down my temple. I wanted to hurt it, and I did.

 

“See. I have ways of getting attention.”

 

The itch flares. My reflection glares like a rabid dog. It wipes the blood clean.

 

“I’ll deal with you later.”

 

The itch sears my—

 

We enter the bridge. It strolls my body to my workstation.

 

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Schumacher,” the captain says with a wry look.

 

“Apologies, sir. I haven’t been feeling myself since leaving the asteroid.”

 

Arvirargus, you moron. We wouldn’t call it the asteroid. The captain must know this isn’t me.

 

“Not a problem, Frank. You know the regs, give us a call the next time you’ll be late.”

 

“Absolutely, sir.”

 

What the hell is that? The captain should see this isn’t me — Okay, time to get creative. I need to get everyone’s attention. And I know just how to do it.

 

First, I imagine a painful itch on my right ankle. That’s right, numbskull. This is what my brain feels like.

 

My passenger reaches to scratch. He has no idea I’m back.

 

I grab MY shoe. Yank it off my foot. Throw it at the captain.

 

I rush the captain. He stares blankly.

 

“Captain sir. There’s an alien in my—"

 

My head explodes in pain. The bridge security officer moved too fast.

 

A boot steps into my field of vision. Everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

I’m in the infirmary. The scuttle itch is silent. Did they cut it out while I was under?

 

My legs, arms, and forehead are restrained. I must’ve scared them.

 

“Good, you’re awake.” The captain sits beside me. “Don’t try to talk. The doctor’s got you medicated.”

 

Is that why I can’t hear it?

 

“The doctor says you’re going to be all right. He already has a way to deal with this.”

 

I knew my shipmates would deal with you.

 

“You’re confined to this bed for now. Listen to the doctor. He’ll need your help to eradicate this thing.”

 

Yeah, you’re advanced alright.

 

“Because if we can’t solve this problem, we’ll need to arrange an accident like we did for Lieutenant Kurosaki.”

 

The hissing scuttle lurks behind my eyes. My heart stops.

 

“We need to keep up appearances for the cameras.” His eyes flash toward the ceiling. “We can’t have the humans on their home world suspect the crew has been replaced. Understand?”

 

My mouth moves. Words not my own spill out, “Absolutely, Captain.”

 

I get it now, I’m the last human on board. And I’m screwed.