“Yes, I know, I know,” Jaycee clunked his way along the ground. “We’ll find Wool and make sure everyone is okay.”
Jaycee opened the door and walked into Medix with Haloo’s arm draped over his shoulder.
Nobody was around.
“Wool, we’re here,” Jayce said. “Where are you?”
He removed Haloo’s helmet and laid her out on a medical bed. He puffed up one of the pillows and laid the back of her head on it.
“Wait here, Haloo,” he said, turning to Jelly. She looked up at him and meowed.
“What do you want, girl?” Jaycee asked, before realizing that Jelly’s eyes were bleeding. Her bright orange fur had turned to a soft pink. “What’s happening to your face?”
“Meeeeeee-ooooooowwww… w-ooooooll…”
“Anderson? You’re concerning me.”
“Meow,” Jelly repeated again, her voice turning huskier. “Meeeoooowwwooo-ooolll…”
“Wool?”
Jelly purred and ducked her head. Her metal claws began to flap uncontrollably like a jazzed-up pair of gloves. “Rowaarr.”
Jelly flipped onto her behind and tried to fight her her paws – with her own paws.
“Hey, stop that,” Jaycee said, walking around her. “What are you doing?”
Jelly tumbled onto her side and kicked her hind legs out, trying to fight off whatever was happening to her.
“Jaaaaaay-ceeeee…” her voice breaking into a low-pitched growl. Sparks of electricity burst out from her paws.
As Jaycee looked down, he saw a tiny bead of pink liquid fall toward his left shoe.
It splashed in slow-motion and broke apart as it collided with the ground, bleaching across the white tiles. “What’s happening to us?”
“H-Help m-me…” Haloo’s voice and body vibrated aggressively.
Jaycee wiped the bloodied patch from his cheek and raced over to Haloo. Her face had turned pink and her eyes were bleeding once again.
“What’s going on here?” Jayce asked, catching a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirrored wall. His face had gone pink, too.
Both his eyes cried pink blood.
Tripp and Bonnie headed for Opera Beta’s control deck. He cleared his throat and felt his stomach.
“I don’t feel too great,” he said, making a beeline for the control deck door.
“We’ve just swam through a vacuum and watched our sister ship detonate,” Bonnie muttered, “I think we’re entitled to feel a bit exhausted.”
“I guess you’re right. We have what we need. As soon as we find Tor, we’re turning around and heading straight for home,” Tripp snapped his fingers, expecting Manuel to appear. “Manuel?”
Snap-snap-snap. Nothing.
“Manuel?”
“What happened to Androgyne?” Bonnie wondered aloud.
“I don’t know. We need answers.”
Tripp held his glove to the panel on the door to the control deck. It opened, and they walked in.
“Ah, you made it,” Tor grinned, leaning back on the flight deck. Tripp and Bonnie clocked his Russian accent immediately. “I have to say, that was quite an impressive feat. Jumping from one ship to another.”
“Tor Klyce,” Tripp stopped a few feet away from him. “Under USARIC code fourteen-oh-three and Infinity Clause three, subsection twelve, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of Captain Daryl J. Katz. Further, IC Two-oh-Five, disobeying a direct command for your superior officer and jeopardizing the souls aboard both Opera Alpha and Opera Beta.”
Tor sniggered, maniacally. “Is that so, captain?”
“It is so, Tor,” Tripp retrieved a Rez-9 firearm from his belt, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. “You will be put into hyper-sleep under N-Carcerate jurisdiction until we reach Earth, where you will be formally charged. Do you understand this statement as I have recited it to you?”
“Yes, I understand what you’re saying,” Tor chuckled, “But you don’t seem to understand the bigger picture.”
Bonnie became infuriated with Tor’s response. “What bigger picture?”
“You stupid Americans. You’re all the same. Never want to play with the others. Always wanting to take all the credit.” Tor nodded behind them. “And you poison Viktor Rabinovich, our most esteemed diplomat on your soil and expect to get away with it?”
They turned around to find Baldron pointing a K-SPARK machine gun at them. “Drop the weaponry, American.”
Tripp and Bonnie held up their hands.
“Hand over your firearm,” Baldron said.
Tripp tossed the Rez-9 at Tor’s feet. The bad guy bent down and picked it up, holding it at Tripp and Bonnie.
“It is quite simple, really,” Tor took a moment to explain. “You deciphered Saturn Cry for us. You and your crew dock with Alpha and perish in the explosion. Such a shame that Baldron and I were the only ones left with that stupid cat. A Pyhrric but believable victory for us considering your nation attacked ours.”
“We will take the glory,” Baldron said, “We were the only survivors of Space Opera Beta’s mission to Enceladus. We figured out what Saturn Cry means.”
“The United States didn’t attack Rabinovich.”
“Yes, they did,’ Baldron winked at Tor, finding it difficult to not burst out laughing. “Anyway, who cares? We are heroes.”
“Like hell you are.” Bonnie resisted the urge to punch them both in the face and getting herself killed. “You’re nothing but scum.”
“On the contrary, young American girl,” Tor said, keeping his gun pointed at her face. “Show me your forearm.”
“What?”
“Do it, or I will shoot you in the face.”
Bonnie did as she was told. She lifted her forearm up and looked at it. “Have you gone mad?”
“If you look on your forearm, you’ll find a panel.”
Bonnie looked, but only found a tattoo. “What panel?”
Tor ran his finger along Bonnie’s black tattoo line. It fizzed and shifted apart, creating a Rorschach-esque rectangle.
“Bonnie Whitaker,” Tor said, “You’re equipped with a self-destruct button. Inside where your womb would be, if you were human, is a quarter tonne of C4. If you hold down the two buttons for five seconds, it would enable a two-minute self-destruct scenario.”
“No!” Bonnie pushed the man back. A wave of sheer terror thundered down her body. “No, no, it isn’t true.”
“Bonnie?” Tripp turned to her, keeping his arms above his head.
“Don’t move, American,” Baldron threatened Tripp and turned to Bonnie. “And you, don’t move, either. You useless piece of metallic junk.”
“No, no,” Bonnie punched her fists together, trying to escape the inevitable explanation. “It can’t be true.”
“North American pig.” Baldron smirked and spat in Bonnie’s direction. “Just a failed Androgyne upgrade like all the others.”
“It is true, I’m afraid,” Tor chuckled. “Just an obedient, useless heap of failed Manning/Synapse ideas. That’s all you are. Poetic, really. A waste of space.”
“What happened to Androgyne?” Bonnie spluttered and wiped her lip, wanting blood. “What did you do to her?”
“We didn’t do anything to her,” Tor said. “She did it to herself.”
“No,” Bonnie shook her head. Her entire life flashed before her eyes. “I remember everything. You’re lying.”
“I assure you I am not. And I assure you, you don’t remember a thing. Do you?”
Bonnie let out an ear-piercing scream. “I am not an android.”
“Ha. I love how you refuse to accept facts that are staring you dead in the face,” Tor nodded at the door. “Speaking of dead, where are Jaycee and Haloo?”