Swamped

"This is a cleaning job. We'd really like to get it done sooner rather than later, before the mess gets worse. Can you at least pass a message along to the cook?" you ask.

She looks skeptical.

"I don't know, but I guess I can try. What is it you need?"

"Well, we've got two plans," Lex says. "One involves cooking up a lot of onions, the other involves about three feet of piping and a large bag, like the ones used in foot storage. We'll leave it up to the cook which of those they'd rather sacrifice."

"Hold on. Onions?" Colleen asks. "What the hells are you trying to clean up, glaxin gas?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," you say. She seems surprised.

"Glaxin? On a boat, this far from shore? How would it even get there?"

"We don't know. We're hoping we might find some clues to that after we clean it up," you reply. "Are you going to talk to the cook or not?"

"If I can," she mutters. She knocks on the door. "See, they didn't give me keys, just put me on watch. So it's basically a matter of if the cook answers..."

The door opens, but the face glaring at you from the other side isn't the cook's.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"I don't got time for introductions," they growl back before glancing at Colleen. "You! Why are you letting these two linger around?"

"They've got a tough cleaning job and apparently they need to pass a message on to the cook about it," Colleen replies. "Speaking of which, where is the cook?"

"Busy. Preparin' something special for good ol' Lou. So that message is just gonna have to wait..."

"No," Colleen says. "They're cleaning up glaxin gas. We can't afford to leave that stuff around. Go fetch the cook."

"What? Now listen here, you don't get to order me around..."

"I don't, but the captain does, and I don't think he'll be very happy to hear that a sailor was interfering with an effort to remove a dangerous substance from the ship."

The sailor doesn't look happy, but he's not fighting back.

"Fine. I'll pass the message along. But don't get your hopes up."

You're grateful to Colleen; that little argument meant the sailor didn't notice you trying to glance past him into the kitchen. And you noticed something particularly strange.