He folded the edge of one of his pages and brushed over the last entry, “Communication incoming? Run banked communications.”
The text bled out into a white flat line. A mountainous waveform sprawled across the screen from the right-hand side.
Static blew from the speakers as the flat line wriggled around. It curved up as Oxade’s voice spoke.
“This is Captain Oxade Weller of the rescue vessel Space Opera Charlie. Do you read me?”
Manuel flipped over two pages and copied the waveform across the blank slate, “Keep playing.”
“I repeat, this is Captain Oxade Weller of USARIC’s Space Opera Charlie rescue program. Contacting Opera Beta on a frequency of zero, five, four, niner. Does anyone read me?”
Manuel slapped his pages together with applause.
“Oh, my. We’re going to be rescued,” he pressed his pages back and transmitted a beam back to the panel.
“Speech-to-text.”
As Manuel spoke, the panel transcribed his message in white text, “This is The Manuel, autopilot of Space Opera Beta. Can confirm connection. Crew are in hyper-sleep. Oxygen conservation in process. Ess-oh-ess. Please confirm bridging instructions. Send.”
The text appeared on the screen and then vanished.
“Thank God. How very thoughtful. Good old USARIC, sending a ship to come and take us home.”
The five occupied hyper-sleep pods buzzed to life. Their transparent plastic panels slid open one by one.
Tripp, Wool, Jaycee, Tor, and Jelly lay asleep with peaceful looks on their faces.
Manuel burst to life by the energy tube and slapped his pages together, “Guys, wake up. I have some amaziant news.”
“Huh?” Tripp was the first to wake up. The others shuffled around and groaned, half awake, “Are we dead?”
“No, quite the contrary,” Manuel zoomed over to Tripp and lowered himself to his face, “We’re being rescued.”
“Rescued?”
“Yes, Opera Charlie is hours away. They are here to rescue us.”
Tripp gripped the edge of his pod and jumped to the floor, “That’s great—Whoa,” he yelped and lost his footing. The disorientation hadn’t quite left his body.
“Be careful, Tripp. Take it easy. We don’t want you falling over and hurting yourself before our visitors arrive.”
“No, you’re right. I’ll take it real slow for a while,” he said.” Where are we?”
“We are no longer on Pink Symphony. According to the geo-scan we have returned to our solar system, just out of Saturn’s orbit.”
Tripp closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. He looked over his shoulder and caught Bonnie, Wool, and Jaycee open their eyes and yawn. He turned back to Manuel on the verge of crying for joy, “Thank God.”
The book took a bow, “It’s on my to-do list if we ever meet him. Or her.”
“Did we make contact with Charlie?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that meant to mean?”
“They left us a message—”
“—Right, did you send one back—?”
“—I was just going to say… yes, I did. They should have received it by now. No response so far, but by the time we return to control I think we can commence bridging procedures.”
Tripp stood to his feet and felt his jaw. Baldron’s replacement cheek had settled in nicely during the hyper-sleep. He felt a million bucks once again.
“Good idea. We’ll get everyone oriented and ready to disembark.”
“Certainly,” Manuel threw a beam at each of the pods and pulled the front hatches down, “The question is, what do we do about Opera Beta? We are forty-eight hours left on oxygen and general supplies.”
Tripp watched Jaycee and Wool start to wake up.
“We may have to abandon Beta, depending on her state. I’m sure between us all we can make it back to Earth.”
“I knew you said disembark a few seconds ago,” Manuel muttered and ducked his head, “But if you do that, I’ll be left on my—”
“—Everyone, can I have your attention?” Tripp ignored Manuel and clapped his hands together. Jelly rolled around in her bed. She didn’t want to wake up.
“Ugh, did we get off that godforsaken disc?” Wool muttered.
“Yes, we did. Guys, I have some good news.”
“What?” Jaycee asked.
“We’re going home.”
The crew didn’t believe what they’d just heard.
“Are you serious, right now?” Wool asked.
“Yes, I am. I’m going to the control deck with Manuel to make the arrangements. I suggest you do whatever it is you need to do to prepare.”
“Comms are back on?” Tor asked, somewhat giddy with excitement, “Can we send messages?”
“Yes,” Manuel said. “Comms are fully operational, now.”
Tripp walked to the door in just his underwear. Wool snorted and sighed, “Tripp?”
“Yeah?”
“Put your pants on first?”
“Oh,” he looked down at his bare stomach and legs, “Yes, good idea.”
An anxious Tor stepped out from his pod, “What does this mean for me?”
Tripp approached the slider on the wall, “What do you mean ‘what does this mean for you’?”
“Well, if we’re going home…” Tor thought out loud, arriving at the obvious before the others had a chance to dish it to him, “I, uh, can’t go back home.”
“You damn well can and will, dickhead,” Jaycee planted his bare feet on the ground, grabbed the edge of the pod, and pushed himself upright, “USARIC will deal with you properly.”
“Guys, look,” Tor said. “No one knows anything. Please, I beg you. Don’t say anything. Don’t turn me in.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Wool spat with sarcasm, “You’re lucky Jaycee didn’t switch you off and wear your reproductive organs as a bracelet.”
Tor sighed, close to tears. A pathetic sight, aided none by the fact he was standing in his briefs, “Please?”
“It’s out of our control now, good buddy,” Tripp patted the creases on his inner-suit pants, “You made your bed. You sleep in it.”
Wool cleared her throat and held her head in her hands, “God, my head is pounding. My guts feel like they’ve been through a grinder,” She held her arm over her bra in a bid to protect her modesty, “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes, Wool. We’re going home,” Tripp tore his eyes away from her chest and slipped the top half of his suit over his head, “Better get ready.”
Wool scanned the room. All but one crew member was accounted for, “Where’s Bonnie?”
Everyone looked at their feet. They’d remembered what happened and were as stunned as each other that Wool hadn’t.
“She didn’t make it,” Tripp unraveled his inner-suit down his front and slipped on his boots, “Don’t you remember?”
Wool stared at the ground and bit her lip, “Yes. I remember now.”
Images from the battle on Pink Symphony flooded into her brain. She took a deep breath, puzzled by her feelings on the matter.
One crew member remained unaccounted for.
“Where’s Jelly—?”
CRREEEAAAAAKKK.
All eyes averted to the cat’s hyper-sleep pod.
CLUNK-CLINK-CLINK-CLINK.
Four Titanium infinity claws rose out from the pod and pressed their way across the ceramic edge.
“Me… owww…”
Wool held her chest with amazement, “Jelly, honey?”
Bonnie, Tor, and Jaycee backed up and watched a huge furry arm lift up from within the chamber.