“Another fifteen seconds, and I’ll be there.”
“Keep on the bridge. Don’t let go,” Katz advised. “That’s what the rails are for. Use them.”
Androgyne reached the edge of the bridge and pressed her palms against Alpha’s airlock door. She scanned the ridges for the plate that would open it.
“I’m here.”
“The plate should be shoulder-high to you on the right of Alpha’s airlock,” Bonnie said.
“Understood.”
The plate was exactly where Bonnie said it would be. Androgyne fanned her fingers out and slapped her palm against the surface. “Opening now.”
“Understood. You might want to take a step back so the bridge can connect.”
She did as instructed.
Alpha’s airlock door flew up, releasing a burst of pressurized air. The edge of the bridge snapped to the metal rim, locking into place.
“Get in,” Katz said.
“Yes.”
She yanked herself forward and floated into the airlock, looking down at the bridge completing its connection. The two space crafts were now joined together by the bridge.
“Releasing thrusters, now,” Katz advised. “Confirm connection, please, Androgyne.”
“Connection confirmed,” She slammed a red button on the wall of the airlock with her fist. “Closing outer door now.”
The room whirred, preparing to shut the door.
“Understood,” Katz said.
The door slid down and closed off the exit as Androgyne looked around. An alarm sounded off, followed by a flashing red light.
“What’s that?” she said, somewhat alarmed.
“It’s just the airlock closing. Nothing to be scared about.”
“Okay.”
The door slid down its housing, locking her into place. “I think I’m decompressing.”
“Yes, the inner airlock door will open in a few seconds.”
Katz stood up from his flight deck console and angled his screen to the control deck.
Tor looked over at the screen and held his headset in place. “Visual?”
“Yep, this is what she’s seeing,” Katz pointed at his screen.
It offered a live feed from Androgyne’s visor. The pair watched as she moved through the inner airlock door and into the ship.
“Androgyne, we have POV visual. We can see what you can see.”
“Okay,” her voice came through the screen. “It’s dark. I can’t see anything.”
Katz folded his arms and watched the monitor. “Give Manuel a command.”
“What should I tell him?”
“Maybe turn the lights on?”
The screen went pitch black as Androgyne stepped into the darkness and looked around. “On-board computer, Manuel. Do you read me?”
Nothing happened.
“Manuel?” Androgyne was close to giving up. “Nothing is happening.”
“The live feed is a bit patchy, can you see anything?” Katz asked and turned to Tor for a reaction. “The power must be down.”
Tor didn’t know how to respond. “It could have gone into stasis. Knock it out of sleep mode.”
“Androgyne,” Katz said. “Try the following command. A-W-A-K-E-4-5-7.”
“Affirmative. A-W-A-K-E-4-5-7.”
The moment she finished repeating the command, the lights flickered. The interior of Space Opera Alpha sprang to life.
It felt like she was breathing once again.
She was faced with a dusty, corridor leading to the control center. “Should I unmask, now?”
“Yes, take an atmosphere reading,” Katz bit his lip, hoping the exposure wouldn’t fry her circuits. “Report on oxygen levels, please.”
Androgyne closed her eyes and flicked a switch on her visor. The front panel lifted up.
She was convinced she’d suffocate. Once her lungs filled with oxygen her mind was put at rest.
“I can breathe.” She took out a thin black panel from her pocket. “Taking a reading now.”
Classical music played in the distance. A familiar tune to anyone who could hear it.
The panel beamed to life, spinning numbers around as she waved it around. The result appeared on the screen: 81mm Hg.
“Did you get the reading?”
“Yes, just patching it through now,” Katz looked at the number appear in the top-right of the screen. “Eighty-one milligrams? Seems perfectly reasonable. Botanix must still be in operation.”
“Manuel?” Androgyne asked. “Can anyone read me?”
“Still nothing?” Katz asked.
“No. I’m making my way to the control deck,” she said, walking toward the door.
Several clanging noises waded through the ship’s vibration as she made her way to the door. “Centrifuge is normal.”
“Understood. So it’s just Manuel we’re having issues with?”
“It seems so.”
Androgyne reached the door to the control desk and hit the button on the wall.
It slid open, to reveal an exact replica of Space Opera Beta’s deck.
A front panel with exactly the same ship controls – and an empty chair. To her left, the comms panel, and an empty chair. Beethoven’s 5th Symphony in C Minor played from the communications panel.
“Can you hear the music?”
“Yes,” Katz voice came through the headset.
“Captain? Can you see what I’m seeing?”
“Yes. How’s the flight deck. Is it operational?”
“The controls are still on, but there’s nobody here.”
Back on Opera Beta, Manuel appeared beside Katz’s face and flapped its pages. “Captain, may I suggest something?”
“Yes, Manuel?”
“Perhaps if I board the vessel, I can infiltrate the main unit and start investigating.”
“Let’s wait a moment and see what we find,” Katz said, returning to the screen. “Androgyne? Can you read me?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Atmosphere levels confirmed, but no sign of life.”
“That is correct.”
Tor placed his hand on the screen. “Androgyne, this is Tor. Can you patch into Alpha’s mainframe on the comms panel, please?”
Katz looked at him, quizzically. “What are you doing?”
“I want to know the status of communication. I think you’d want to know too, right?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Tor raced back to his comms panel, sat into his chair and began typing.
Androgyne did the same. “Okay, I’m here.”
“Try this. I’m sending you the coordinates,” Tor said, “If Alpha is operational, it should respond to the following code.”
“Okay.”
“USARIC, hyphen, S, O, A, hyphen, one, one, eight..”
“Understood.” Androgyne typed the command into the comms deck. “Done.”
“We’re looking for captain Zillah Chin-Dunne,” Tor said, “OSR. One, One Eight.”
Androgyne typed O-S-R-1-1-8 onto the keyboard. “Okay, done—”
The mainframe beeped and sprung to life. The screen displayed a colossal amount of static, surprising Androgyne. “What’s happening?”
“What are you doing?” Came a voice from behind her. She spun around on her chair and gulped back the urge to scream.
She froze solid and stared at the vision in front of her.
“Z-Zillah?”
“My God,” Katz looked at the screen in bewilderment. “Tor, look at this.”
“What?”
Tor joined Katz to observe the woman in Androgyne’s POV feed. “Is that her?”
Katz interrupted him. “Androgyne?”
Zillah Chin-Dunne, the Japanese captain of Space Opera Alpha, stood a few feet away from Androgyne. Apart from her unhappy demeanor, she seemed to be a picture of health.
Zillah shut the music off, catching Androgyne’s attention. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, don’t know what to say—”
“—I put you back in N-Vigorate for your own safety. How did you get out?”