My boot slipped on a slimy, purple glob. I cursed under my breath while I fought for balance during a precarious moment, grasping Ben's shoulder for support. He sent me a quick glance out of soft brown eyes, half-hidden by his breathing mask.

"Cap, let's get back on board. This is disgusting."

My stoic engineer wasn't one to plea under normal circumstances. Instead of answering, I squared my shoulders, put on a confident face, and blinked my inner lid to clear my vision. I couldn't show emotion in the current situation. Not with the eyes of every tyrinan passerby on the alien visitors. With purposeful steps, I strode down the lane, trying to avoid further purple slime congregations, urging my crewmate to keep up.

"Play it cool, Ben, we're almost there. You know we need this job."

"Aye, Captain." His use of the whole title worried me more than the hiss between clenched teeth.

My human companion was right, of course, and ugly was a weak description for the ankle-deep mess we were wading through. I wondered if Ben knew I'd used an old conjuring trick to assure he was the one to accompany me on the mission. He'd insisted on a strange human ritual, a selection by drawing tiny, wooden teeth-cleaning sticks. I almost screwed up when ensuring he got the shortest of the straws, as he called them.

Hrrovr, my rrss'h'ss Number one, was a strict opponent of planetary missions, and to bring the karjkan scientist Hijac was a bad idea. His diplomatic abilities equalled the amount of breathable atmosphere in hyperspace. This left Ben and our pilot, Aalyxh. Needless to say, I preferred having her ready at the helm if things went down the wormhole.

I'd wanted Ben along because I hoped the obnoxious stench of the infamous bubbling slime of Tyrin would not affect him too much. A side glance told me I'd been wrong. My companion's usual rosy complexion had turned to an ashen grey, a clear sign he was about to puke.

"Relax, Ben. It's just minerals, perhaps some organic stuff. Otherwise, it wouldn't bubble." I knew I was babbling, but I had to occupy his mind while at the same time trying to locate our destination. "Something that produces gases, decaying excrements, maybe. Nothing too bad or toxic, I hope."

An unarticulated noise out of Ben's throat told me my pseudo-scientific approach hadn't worked. Not at all. The remaining colour drained from his face faster than breathable air from a cracked space helmet. He doubled over, yanked off his mask, and added his lunch to the nasty ooze. I should have kept my gills shut, but now it was too late.

Beneath half-closed outer lids, I checked for observers. Most species frown on littering by alien visitors. In our precarious financial situation, we could not afford another copious fee. Aside from the fact there are rumours that some planets on the outer rim indulge in different retributions.

A tingling feeling beneath my neck spikes told me we were out of luck. Two squat, shimmering figures kept their eyestalks primed on us—one four of them, the other six. I patted Ben's back with a gloved hand. "Uh, mate. Hope you feel better. Put on your mask, you don't want to breathe too much of the local atmosphere. And let's move, we're becoming an attraction."

A shiver ran down his body, and he turned around, using his sleeve to wipe the bile from his mouth before he adjusted the mask. Thanks to the holy fountain of space bubbles, Aalyxh had suggested disposable suits.

A movement caught my attention and guided it back to the indigenes. The blue-green, four-eyed tyrinan slithered nearer, leaving a glistening trail in the omnipresent mire.

"Welcome, visitors. You seem lost. Can I guide your steps?" His—or her—standard was better than mine.

I hesitated. Would I risk much if I gave my contact's address? They hadn't asked for secrecy, but some customers expected it nonetheless. On the other hand, I had no map and the lack of street signs or other navigational aids made it impossible to find our bearings in the maze of featureless houses. They all looked alike and resembled giant, upturned cups. It would be a challenge to locate our potential client without help. I bowed from the hips, not too much, just to signal my friendly intentions. "Thank you for asking, you're very kind. We're looking for Tanencha."

"Tanencha sy Tyrin?" A twitch of the skin-fold above the main pair of eyestalks gave a convincing imitation of a raised human eyebrow.

"Are there different ones?" I was at a loss. The sub-space message had told me to come to Tanencha, on Tyrin. The latter was a micro planet in the Simari system, loosely associated with the AIP, the Association of Independent Planets. As for Tanencha, it might as well be a city, a brothel, or a street name for what I knew. The planet had a single landing pad, and the personal message had been addressed to me. So I'd expected to be contacted by an agent. When nothing happened, I'd decided to have a look around.

My interlocutor swivelled their eyestalks and twisted the upper pair of their tentacles around each other. I had a hard time interpreting the slug-like tyrinan's body language. Fortunately, a verbal explanation followed. "There is only one, esteemed visitor. Although I must admit, she seldom invites strangers to her abode."

Tanencha must be a local celebrity then, and female, not a place at all. I was glad the mask made it hard to read the surprise on my face. Silly mistakes and unfounded assumptions like this one tend to end in disaster. I had to get a grip on myself.

"She called for us, your honour." None of my crew had been on Tyrin before, so I had no inkling about local etiquette. At least the invertebrate in front of us seemed to think I was funny. My pride sent a flare of angry heat through my system, but I still prefer to be taken as a clown than as offensive. "Forgive my ignorance of protocol."

"Oh, do not worry, visitor. I'm not part of the establishment but merely the speaker of Salincha, associate to the house of Tanencha." The speaker gestured towards their orange companion who had been watching us with quivering eyestalks, tentacles neatly folded across their chest.

"Please assure Salincha of my utmost respect. Would you be able to guide us to Tanencha's abode?" It was in moments like these, fumbling my way through diplomatic relationships, clueless, blindfolded, that I asked myself why, in the seven universes, I had wanted to captain a trade ship in the first place.

The speaker consulted with their companion in a string of gurgling noises and motioned us to follow. We had a hard time keeping up with our guides, stomping through the muck like huffalumps through porridge. The tyrinan way of locomotion looked effortless and elegant compared to our bipedal struggle.

Soon, I'd lost my orientation in the maze of similar cup-buildings. The dense cloud cover and the swirling tendrils of fog wavering above the mire did their share to make me planet sick. Now it was my turn to wish we'd never left the familiarity of our cosy Topsy-Turvy. At least Ben's face showed colour again, although I wished he would stop scowling at the tyrinans gliding effortlessly down the streets and alleys around us.

At last, our guides stopped in front of an unimpressive example of the conical structures. Salincha pressed a tentacle against the smooth wall, and a sliding door allowed them access. The speaker told us to wait. "She will announce your visit to the elder-mother."

So, Salincha was female, too. I still had no clue how to tell the gender of this luminescent slugs. At least we ran into the right people, I thought. A reluctant wave of hope surged through my system. Perhaps this job would be a lucky strike after all. Hope dies last, as Ben used to say.

A few ticks later, the door opened. We followed the speaker into a room lit from above through an open skylight. A ramp led us in a tight spiral down into an underground hall. Its slimy cover made the descent tricky, and I was glad for the handrail along the outer wall. Ben sent me a desperate glance. I was sure he could tell from my tensed skull plates I was on edge too. We both remained silent, too busy keeping our footing.

Finally standing on a safe, flat surface again, I realised the cup-structures were light shafts, vents, and access-ways for an underground settlement. From the hall, dark tunnels ran in all directions. Salincha peeked out of one, and the speaker ushered us to follow her. The glowing, leathery skin of the two tyrinans gave off enough light to find our way without too much stumbling.

We reached a room with a domed ceiling, illuminated by hundreds of small, coloured lights. Closer inspection told me these were minuscule tyrinans, each with a single pair of mini-eyestalks, leaving their slimy tracks on every surface. I suppressed the temptation to step back and swallowed my bile. The speaker followed my gaze. "Welcome to the breeding chamber of Tanencha sy Tyrin. May I present you to the speaker of the elder-mother?"

Only then I saw the squatting form in the back. It was a huge tyrinan, at least thrice the size of Salincha. Her dark purple skin hung in wrinkled folds and emitted a faint glow. Two rows of dozens of eyestalks ran down her sloped forehead and made me realise their number probably signalled age. Next to the enormous slug sat a smaller pink one. It gazed at us out of three pairs of eyes. Probably an adult, then, but nowhere of the same age and importance as Tanencha herself.

"Greetings, Kalina ap'Theron. Tanencha is glad you followed her call. She is a great admirer of your marvellous adventures and hopes her humble request doesn't keep you and your famous crew from an important mission."

(1708 words)