“This, as you’ve seen, is not an inanimate object,” Maar said. “Poz and Neg are prototypes of USARIC’s latest venture with Manning/Synapse. Death drones. Ruthless killing machines. Now, don’t be rude. Shake Poz’s hand.”
Oxade turned to the droid, this time focusing on his face. A dreadful synthetic skin glistened in the ceiling light. Oxade heard the whirring of Poz’s internal mechanism. A very subtle squelching noise followed with every microscopic movement.
“Yeah, put it here,” Oxade slammed his palm into Poz’s hand. His skin immediately absorbed into the droid’s hand.
“Hey, hey, my fingers,” Oxade tried to wrench his hand away.
“Ha-ha-ha,” Poz released Oxade’s hand and trundled over to his counterpart, “I am sorry. I was attempting humor.”
Oxade looked at his hand. It was immaculate, as if nothing had happened.
“I f-felt my soul leaving my b-body,” Oxade stammered. “What the hell are these things—”
“—We are death drones,” explained the pulchritudinous Neg. Affecting a more feminine touch, she slid her arm around Poz and seemed to weld into the side of his body, “Of course, we’d rather have been named something less killerish. We are state of the art killing machines, but that’s not all we are.”
SCHLOOOOO—
Neg’s entire frame amalgamated into Poz’s body, doubling their height as they twinned into each other. Oxade, Alex, and Nutrene were now looking at a fully-formed killing machine. An exo-suit unraveled down their bodies.
“They look like Jaycee, now. Don’t they?” Maar smiled at the trio.
STOMP!
The giant droid in the exo-suit stomped forward and spun its hands around, leaning into Oxade’s face, “Human?” it asked in its threatening grunt of a voice.
“Y-Yes.”
“I thought so,” it held out its palm and closed its fingers, forming a blue-hued fist.
THWOCK!
The hulking mercenary punched Oxade in chest, catapulting him across the conference table. Crain moved out of his path as he landed on his ass and whined.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake—” Nutrene jumped behind her chair and focused her monocle on Alex, “I’m not going to Saturn with them.”
“Get up, Oxade,” Maar said. “You’re the captain. You’re meant to be setting an example.”
“Y-You c-can’t expect us to go on Opera Charlie with them?” He climbed to his feet and brushed himself down. The USARIC logo had torn away from its stitches due the violent nature of the punch.
Maar stood behind Oxade and addressed the team, “I think the five of you will get the job done just fine.”
SCHLOOOOOOP!
Poz and Neg twisted into each other in a miasma of metal and pulled themselves apart. They trundled to the table like a pair of scary Siamese twins and pointed at the vector scope of Opera Charlie.
“Is this our new home?” they asked in tandem.
“Yes, it is,” Maar said.
“We go to Saturn and kill everything.”
Maar nodded, “Yes, but bring Anderson, the cat, back with you. Safe and sound.”
“What if she doesn’t want to come back?”
Maar made eyes at them, “Listen very carefully to me. Oxade is in charge. He’s the captain. So, you do as he says.”
“Yes,” they said.
“Nutrene is the medician. If something happens to any of you, like you’re injured or seriously hurt, she can fix you. Right?”
“Right.”
“And Alex Hughes is in charge of the weapons on level two. Not that you guys need a gun, of course.”
Poz slammed his elbow into his own ribs. His forearm broke out like an accordion to reveal a triple barreled canon, “We have our own guns.”
“I know you do,” Maar winked at Neg, who pressed her hands together and fluttered her metallic eyebulbs at him, “Your sister, here, is a lethal little minx, too. I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to complete the job.”
“Excuse me, Maar,” Alex said. “There’s something I don’t understand.”
“What is it, Hughes?”
“Well, if Poz and Neg are death drones, why do you need us humans to go with them? They don’t need oxygen. Resources wouldn’t deplete as fast?”
Maar sighed and made the mistake of touching Poz on his shiny head. An electric spark frazzled the holographic image momentarily.
“We made a mistake with Opera Beta. They’re all Androgyne Series Three, except for Haloo Ess, the botanist and, of course, Anderson herself. We won’t be making the same mistake again.”
“What’s the mistake?”
“Sending Series Three units on a manned mission. They went missing. They reported seventy-two hours’ worth of oxygen, not that it matters to the majority of the crew. But they have the answer.”
“If I may add, Maar,” Crain interjected. “The whole idea of using Androgynes on a manned mission to Saturn was to preserve USARIC’s bottom line. A minimal financial outlay.”
“What does that mean?” Nutrene asked.
“Quite simply, it was the cheapest option. All we need to know now is what happened to them. Quickly, and quietly.”
Alex shook his head and took a final look at Pox and Neg, “So you’re sending humans up with the new generation?”
“That’s right.”
“And you want us to kill everything that moves?”
Maar and Crain nodded with a quiet solemnity.
“You leave in four days’ time,” Maar waved the Opera Charlie vector image away from the table, “It’s a three-year round trip. I suggest you put your affairs in order as soon as possible.”
The men’s bathroom.
Alex splashed cold water on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked at his face in the mirror. A fine USARIC logo imprint loomed in the bottom right-hand corner.
“You look like hell,” his reflection moved its lips as he spoke. “A year and a half to Saturn and we might not find anything.”
Biddip-biddip…
“Damn it.”
He rolled up his sleeve and looked at his forearm. The Individimedia ink sluiced around and from three blinking dots. He took one last look at his face and thumbed the ink to his wrist.
“This is Alex.”
“It’s me,” the voice of a woman came through the pricks in his wrist, “Are you alone?”
“I’m in the bathroom.”
“How did the briefing go?”
“Yeah, it went fine,” Alex turned to the stalls. Two of the five were locked but he knew he was alone, “Listen, I can’t talk right now. I’m still with the crew.”
“You’re definitely on, though? Right?”
“Yes, I’m on—”
CLUNK.
The door to the bathroom opened. Oxade walked up to the floating urinal concourse in the middle of the room.
“Hey, good buddy,” he said to Alex. “All set?”
“Yeah, amaziant, thanks,” Alex pressed his right palm over his left wrist. A muffled question from the woman warbled through his fingers.
“Who you talking to, there?”
“Oh, you know,” Alex fake-smirked and made his way over to the hand drier, “Women trouble. She’s always calling.”
“Ha. Tell me about it,” Oxade unzipped his front and proceeded to relieve himself, “Seems you have an admirer. Nutrene’s got the hots for you.”
“Has she?”
“Don’t act like you haven’t not noticed.”
“Hmm,” Alex turned to the drier. A bead of sweat formed across his brow and rolled down the side of his face. He spread the pinpricks on his wrist and dipped his left hand into the drier. He couldn’t afford Oxade to overhear his call…