“See that?”
“Yes,” Alex widened his eyes.
“That’s going to be our new home as of next week.”
“Opera Charlie?”
“Yup,” Nutrene licked her lips and threw him a coquettish smile, “I’ve heard it gets lonely up in space.”
“Aren’t there five of us going?”
“That’s right, my friend. A reduced service. Skeleton crew, so to speak,” Oxade slammed on the back of the driver’s seat, “Can’t we go any faster? We have a briefing to attend.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
Oxade turned to Alex, “See this idiot? You can’t get the staff, these days.”
“Why don’t you leave him alone?” Alex shouted over the roar of the jet engine, “He’s just doing his job.”
“If I had my way, all the lackeys would be fitted with Decapidiscs. That’d make them produce a lot faster.”
“Decapi—what?”
“Decapidisc,” Oxade yelled. “The compliance unit. Take your head clean off if you mess around.”
“Oh.”
Maar Sheck’s holographic representation loomed over the conference table.
Crain McDormand was physically present next to him. His thumbnail sat at the edge of the table, throwing Maar’s projection into the room.
“Where are they?”
Crain looked at him apologetically, “Hughes has just finished training. They’re on their way.”
“What’s keeping them?”
“Why, do you have another conference to go to?” Crain smirked with sarcasm.
“Very funny, ass-face,” he walked through the conference table and snapped his fingers, “Bring up the recording.”
Crain waved his hand over the table. A paused three-dimensional image of Maar stepping out of the back of limousine appeared above the surface.
The door to the conference room opened. Oxade, Nutrene, and Alex walked in and surrounded the table.
“Hello, Maar,” Oxade took a seat at the end of the table.
“Oxade Weller and Nutrene Byford, as I live and breathe,” Maar spat with contempt at their tardiness, “Where the hell have you been?”
It wasn’t clear which of the two versions of Maar had spoken – was it the paused image, or the transparent one standing in the middle of the table?
“Umm,” Oxade clocked the still image, “What’s this? Why are you see-through?”
Maar walked through the wooden surface and arrived at the head of the table. He nodded at Crain, “This happened thirty minutes ago. Play the recording.”
Crain obliged and clicked his fingers, enabling the playback to proceed. Maar planted his feet on the ground and stepped out of the limousine. Kaoz ushered him toward the entrance to USARIC HQ, “We have the package,” he said into his headset.
“Very good, get him inside, quick.”
WHOOSH-WHOOSH!
A rocketing noise shot through the air from behind them, “Maar, get down.” Kaoz swung his gun around at the front of the limousine.
Before he could open fire, the driver’s head exploded, painting the inside of the vehicle a dark red.
“Get down, now,” Kaoz shielded himself behind the limousine, looking for the source of the attack. He pressed his microphone to his lips, “This is Kaoz. We are under attack.”
“Kaoz,” Maar rolled across the ground and looked into blinding sun, “H-Help m-me…”
A dark object whizzed around and blocked the rays from his face., “What i-is that?”
An attack drone buzzed around in the air. It spun its cannons at Maar and blasted him in the chest, killing him instantly.
“Maar,” Kaoz pointed his firearm at the drone and shot it out of the air. The hunk of metal crashed to the floor right beside Maar’s bleeding body.
A thoroughly befuddled Opera Charlie team stared at the paused image of Maar’s dead body.
“But… how?” Oxade muttered.
“It wasn’t me,” Maar walked around the table, unable to contain his anger.
Security officials dragged the decoy body into the reception area and tore the fake skin away from the corpse’s face. The man underneath looked nothing like Maar, but was very dead.
“A decoy. His family has been well compensated for their loss.”
“Wow. You really can’t go anywhere, can you?” Nutrene clocked Crain’s thumbnail projecting Maar’s image in the room, “Where are you broadcasting from?”
“I’m not telling you that, you stupid woman,” Maar stopped in front of his new team and folded his arms. “No one can know my whereabouts. It’s for your own safety. Crain, vector scope of Opera Charlie, please.”
“Yes, Maar,” Crain lifted his hand over the surface of the desk. A vector representation of Space Opera Charlie appeared above the table.
Oxade, Nutrene, and Alex leaned in for a better view.
“I’m happy to report that the board unanimously voted to change Opera Charlie’s remit. It is now a search and destroy operation. We’ve selected the most dedicated and, shall we say, less morally-observant members of USARIC to go to Saturn, find Opera Beta and return our property.”
“Your property?” Oxade chuckled to himself.
“Yes, that’s right. Our property. We know they decoded Saturn Cry. Anderson helped them.”
“Anderson?” Alex kept up the pretense, “Who’s that?”
“That dumb animal they took with them,” Oxade snapped and turned to Maar, “What’s the situation with Opera Beta? Last I heard they went missing?”
“They’re still missing. That’s why we’re sending you up. We know they found Opera Alpha and Zillah’s crew. Something seriously awry is going up there, and I’ve had just about enough of it. And so have the board, to be perfectly honest, hence their change of heart.”
Maar nodded at Crain, who enlarged the top third of the vector scope of Opera Charlie.
“We’ve scaled down the ship to the bare essentials,” Crain said. “As there are five of you, you’ll only need the bare minimum. All search and destroy operations are equipped with the latest technology.”
“Five of us?” Oxade looked at Nutrene and Alex, “I only count three?”
“That’s right, five,” Maar said. “Oxade and Alex, can you stand up, please.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Everyone rose from their chairs and took a step back, confused as to the nature of the instruction.
“So, what do we—”
Oxade’s swivel chair spun around. The spider-like metal plate liquefied and formed into one, solid mass.
“What’s going on?”
The liquid metal stretched out across the floor. The armrests tilted up and into the air.
Alex’s chair performed the same action, only this time, a circular magnetic plate sprung out from its side.
The two melded together and stretched apart like three-day-old chewing gum.
CLUNK-SCHWIPP.
The metallic rope snapped in half, forming two lifelike androids. The fabric from the chair sunk into the metal and pushed out into the shape of a head.
“Wow,” Nutrene looked at Oxade for a response. “Is this what I think it is?”
Maar smirked as he moved to the head of the table, “Opera Charlie, meet your fourth and fifth crew members. Poz and Neg Bass.”
Poz, the ‘male’ droid of the duo, stood three-foot-high and looked like an ugly, mini metal beach ball. He tilted his perfectly circular head up at Oxade and blinked his set of peculiar eyebulbs.
“Greetings. I am Poz Bass. I will be joining you on Opera Charlie.”
“But-but—” Oxade failed to process the marvel of technology standing before him, demanding an introduction, “What is this?”