“Look outside and see,” she said, attracting the undivided attention of everyone in the room.
All sets of eyes averted to the window.
Hundreds of thousands of creatures scurried across the sand away from the ocean. Many crammed into each other as they funneled forward like a virus.
“God, look at that.”
“We gave Jelly The Gift,” the girl’s voice slowed down, near unrecognizable, “We need your help.”
“That’s not Jelly talking,” Wool said.
“Who are you?”
“Pink Symphony. Creation. Evolve.”
“Lessense!” Jaycee prepared to hop through the window and go down in a blaze of glory, “Stupid name for the creation of life—”
“—It is the closest name we have. Beings from your universe cannot comprehend our true name,” Jelly swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood to her feet. She pulled the E-MRI pad from her chest and clutched the blanket around her neck. “To you, we are Pink Symphony. Pink, because that’s as close as your eyes can process…”
Jelly looked at the radio on the floor and sighed. A battered, tinny version of Beethoven’s classic whimpered across the ground.
“Symphony. Because the language your radio speaks. Your friends on the other ship came to help us, but they did not have the right species.”
Tor put two and two together, hoping he hadn’t arrived at five, “Wait. That makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Tripp asked. “It makes no sense at all.”
Tor went for the radio. “No, hang on. Wait.” He picked up the broken piece of plastic and tore out the wiring, “When Alpha went through Enceladus, it must have come here. To Pink Symphony. Right?”
“Can’t say I disagree.”
“Don’t you understand?” The puzzle slotted together in Tor’s mind, “Saturn Cry, the message it sent. It wasn’t coming from Enceladus. It came from here.”
“Why didn’t Alpha crack the code?” Wool asked, still failing to get to grips with the idea.
“Because they didn’t have a cat on board,” Bonnie said, “They were useless to… whoever this is we’re speaking to through Jelly.”
“The Gift,” Jelly made her way over to the wardrobe and sifted through the hanging medician gowns, “Blind as the day you were born.”
“She cracked the code when she was in Pure Genius,” Tor continued. “She sent us through Enceladus and brought us here.”
“Yes, but it was either that or run out of oxygen,” Tripp tried his best to question the bizarre logic.
“No, this was no accident. Jelly had no choice.”
“Pink Symphony is oxygen. We breathe, we live,” Jelly slipped her arms through the sleeves of the medician gown and pushed the door shut, “The girl is cold.”
“Whatever brought us here needed Jelly,” Tripp asked. “Or, a cat?”
“The cat went into the water. She returned with The Gift we gave her,” Jelly flicked her shoulder length hair over her shoulders. She stood an impressive three foot five and looked more human, “War is coming. You need to protect her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Not Jelly,” Jelly held out her arms, encouraging Wool to go and hug her, “Pink Symphony.”
“Are we… talking… to Pink Symphony right now?” Tor asked.
“Yes.”
“Wow,” Tor cackled wildly, “That’s messed up.”
Tripp shrugged his shoulders and waved Tor across the room, “Well, you’re the communications expert. Go and talk to her.”
“This is incredible. Let me look at her.”
“Just don’t touch her,” Wool squeezed Jelly’s shoulders from behind.
Tor lowered himself and looked into Jelly’s possessed eyes, “Jelly?”
She blinked, shyly, and clung to Wool’s leg awaiting Tor’s questions.
“Why did you bring us here?”
“To save us.”
“Who is us?”
“Pink Symphony—”
“—Yes, I know. But, who are you?”
“Virus.”
“That explains the pink gas,” Tor looked up at Tripp for a response. He didn’t get one, so returned to quiz Jelly, “A virus?”
“You carry us,” Jelly’s face remained utterly still, “We cure humans, we kill humans.”
“It hasn’t killed me, yet. Or any of my crew.”
Jelly shook her head, “Only kills humans.”
“Right. So why aren’t we dead, yet?”
Jelly twitched her nose as the voice radiated through the skin on her face, “No one heard Saturn Cry for the equivalent of an Earth millennium. Humans responded to the message. We didn’t mean to kill your people.”
“Is that what happened to Alpha?”
“We learned much from Alpha. They came, we heard noises we liked. We sent Alpha back, they helped to transmit our call for rescue. To save us.”
“Save you from what?” Tor asked, carefully.
“Shanta.”
“Shanta?”
Jelly scowled and roared in Tor’s face, “Pink Symphony is evolution.”
Wool turned to the E-MRI scan and noticed spotted a glowing pink orb in her belly, “What’s that?”
“The gift,” Jelly approached her and pointed to the stomach organ, “You protect cat.”
“We can never go home,” Jaycee said. “We’ve been infected by the virus. It’ll kill everyone.”
Jelly’s eyes tilted up into her skull. “Protect. Please.” She closed her eyelids and slumped to the floor in a crazy heap.
“Jelly!” Wool crouched down and scooped her into her arms and lifted her up, “God, she’s gotten heavier, Tripp. Help me carry her to the bed.”
“Okay,” He grabbed Jelly’s calves in his hands. Wool pulled her over to the bed by her arms.
“Be careful with her tail,” Wool set her top half onto the mattress, “I’m not sure what’s going on here, Tripp.”
“Join the club.”
“The E-MRI is nearly complete. It’s not my place to bark orders at people, but I think you guys should go and do whatever it is you need to do and help us get out of here.”
“You’re right,” Tripp looked at Jelly and ran his thumb across her forehead, “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, BPM is one over fifty. She’s sleeping. Probably a bit exhausted.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” Tripp absorbed the girl’s beauty, “If we have to protect her, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“Tripp?” Tor was eager to get a word in edgewise, “I, uh, I think we’re… oh, God.”
“Not now, Tor.”
Tripp nodded at Jaycee and Bonnie. The primary airlock is damaged, but we’re off-ground, at least. Those creature things won’t be coming in—”
Jelly’s eyes flew open. “Shaaaanta.”
“Shanta, yes,” Tripp agreed before double-taking and realized what he’d just said, “Shanta?”
“Shanta,” Jelly fumed and blinked.
“Okay, I guess they’re called The Shanta,” Tripp said. “Botanix is vulnerable, so I suggest we go there and make sure it’s sealed.”
“There were enough of them trying to get in there,” Bonnie said. “Good idea.”
A bead of sweat ran down Tor’s anxiety-ridden face. “Oh, God. It only kills humans...” he muttered.
“Tor, not now. You can think about sabotaging all our future missions another time.”
He grabbed at Tripp’s hand in profound desperation.
“Get off me, numb nuts.”
“Pink Symphony! It only kills humans. Why am I not dead?” Tor turned his back to Tripp and grabbed his left ear, “There’s only one explanation. Please, look behind my ear. Do you see anything?”