The vines that had been holding us in our “seats”—shelf fungus teased into a shape that would accommodate human anatomy, if only just—released us, whipping back into the walls like seatbelts snapping back into their cradles. Toni stretched, hopped out of her seat, and wandered across the crampedd cabin to the tangled seam of the door.

“This thing shouldn’t be airtight,” she said cheerfully. “Unless the two of you are putting out enough oxygen to compensate for massive leakage, what we’re looking at is a literal violation of the laws of a reasonable universe. Aren’t aliens fun? Isn’t alien biotech fun?”

“I think you broke her,” said Mandy, looking toward Jeff. Apparently, he had the title of “official alien” for our little mission. That was somewhat of a relief. I’d been afraid it would go to me.

“That one came pre-broken,” said Jeff.

“Not true,” said Toni. “I was perfectly functional before one of your asshole flowers decided to have a go at eating me. Now I figure I’m entitled to do whatever the hell I want, and that includes criticizing your technology. It’s like someone let the set designer from Troll come up with an entire alien civilization.”

Desperately wishing David had come with us after all, I slid off my own fungus and crossed to where Graham was still seated, looking moodily down at his hands. I touched his shoulder. He raised his head.

“Hey,” I said. Then, needlessly, I added, “We’re here.”

“Seattle,” he said, and laughed mirthlessly. “We’re finally home. Only took how many days past when we were supposed to get here?”

“Better late than never.”

“Better never than whatever this is.” He looked back down. “This is it, Stasia. Once we walk out of that hatch, we’re part of the invasion.”

I wanted to tell him we already were, or at least, I already was: I’d been a part of the invasion since the beginning, and all the time we’d spent together with him thinking I was human, or on the side of humanity, had been a lie. I wanted to tell him he’d had plenty of opportunities to run, to go back to the safety of his own species and live out the dying days of a world that had come to the attention of something bigger and colder and crueler than it was. I wanted to say so many things. I swallowed them like the bitter pills they were, feeling them coil and snarl in my stomach, one more thorn briar I could never cut away.

“Yeah,” I said.

Graham sighed and stood. He hesitated for a moment, looking at his own trembling hands like he’d never seen them before, like they belonged to someone else. Someone better. Then he offered one of them to me, lifting his head, meeting my eyes, and forcing the smallest of smiles.

“I guess if I had to be a traitor to my species and my planet, I would want to do it with you,” he said, and twined his fingers into mine, holding tight.