“He started it,” Manny affected a sarcastic huff and started to extract the data from the comms panel via her beam.
“I did not start it,” Poz muttered. “I’ll shut you down and use your memory as toilet paper.”
“You don’t have an ass, you ass.”
Oxade threw his left arm forward.
SCHUNT-CLICK.
A Rez-9 firearm slapped into his palm, having traveled up the length of his sleeve.
“I swear to God. If you two don’t stop bickering, I’m putting a bullet right in the middle of deck.”
“Okay, fine,” Manny said. “I’ll look the other way.”
Oxade stepped over to Poz, “Suits me. What’s the situation with the live link to Beta?”
“Need the pass-code.”
“Try A-W-A-K-E-4-5-7,” Oxade looked at the transparent password box hanging in front of the deck, “It’s what Beta uses to reactivate their antiquated piece of junk autopilot.”
“On it,” Poz punched away at the keys. He kept a crafty eye on Manny, who had spun around to face the windshield.
BZZZZ.
“Incorrect,” Poz said. “Got any other suggestions?”
Oxade slammed the deck, “Sonofa—”
“—There’s no need to swear, Captain,” Poz said.
“It’s my goddamn ship and I’ll fricken well swear if I want to, okay?”
“It’s beneath you,” Poz looked at the empty pass-code box, waiting for an intelligent response.
“Make no mistake, my little ball of death. You’re beneath me in this particular hierarchy, and don’t you ever forget it,” Oxade ran his hands through his slicked-back hair and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and keep his professionalism intact; both for the sake of the crew and his own sanity, “We haven’t been here a day and already we’re failing.”
“Transfer complete,” Manny spun around and displayed the text results across the central pages of her book-body.
Oxade tried to read the text but it was far too small, “What does it say?”
“Last recorded data point suggests that the crew were on seventy-two hours oxygen. According to Beta’s second-in-command, Tripp Healy, many of them have fallen one-hundred-and-eleven.”
“Eh?” Oxade leaned into the text on her page and raised his eyebrows. Manny had mistaken the word ‘ill’ for a number.
“It says ill, you cretin. Not one-hundred-and-eleven.”
“I’m sorry, I thought it was numeric—”
“—Captain, I am at a loss for what to type as the password—” Poz announced, before being rudely interrupted.
“—Shut up for a minute,” Oxade returned to Manny. “How long ago was the data point recorded?”
“Two years ago. Approximately. Would you like the exact time in days, hours, minutes and seconds—”
“—No, I’ve heard enough,” Oxade went to pat Poz on the back, remembered the intense pain it caused the last time. He pulled his hand away and stared at the vicious-looking lump of technology, “Ah, forget it.”
Poz cylinder ‘head’ revolved as his eyebulbs followed Oxade to the door.
“Did you want something, Captain?”
“Three days of oxygen in two years? No response to our communication attempts? They’re definitely all dead. This is going to be the easiest salary we’ve ever earned,” Oxade palmed the panel on the wall and opened the door, “Manny, how long till we can bridge with Beta?”
“Three or four hours.”
“Keep establishing contact every ninety seconds. The more they don’t respond, the more likely they’re dead. We’ll get on board, take what we want, kill anything we find, and go home.”
Oxade walked out of the control deck, “And try not to tear each other’s throats out until I get back, at least.”
Poz and Manny scowled at each other.
Alex struggled with the jarring effects of his hyper-sleep. He gripped the edge of his pod and suppressed the urge to vomit.
“God, my organs feel like pâté.”
Nutrene, on the other hand, was used to the feeling. Alex couldn’t understand how she was able to hop to her feet and casually make her way over to the sink.
“Hey, it’s perfectly natural to feel like crap,” Nutrene said.
She looked into the basin mirror and focused on his trim figure. Dressed only in her USARIC-issued underwear, she licked her lips at the glorious sight, “You should scrunch your toes and walk around for a bit. Try to reorient yourself.”
She turned to the corner of the chamber and saw Neg spinning around, calibrating her extended arm.
“Neg, can you get our friend, here, a glass of water?”
“Certainly.”
“Yeah,” Alex pushed himself to his feet and stumbled forward, “Oh dear, no. No.”
“Hey,” Nutrene raced over and caught him as he fell to the floor. She hooked her arms under his and lifted him back to his feet, face-to-face.
She looked into his eyes, “Alex, stand up straight. It’s the best thing for you.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” he pushed her back and tried to remain still.
“Muscle fatigue. Quite normal after such a long journey.”
Alex moved his hands in front of his body. He took one step forward and wobbled on the spot.
“A bit like learning to walk again,” Nutrene watched on as he put his other foot forward, “There, you got it.”
Neg rolled over to Alex and extended her metal retractor. At the end of it was a glass of water which she offered to Alex, “Drink this. Fresh H2O.”
“I know what it is,” Alex took the glass from Neg and sniffed around the rim, “Fresh?”
“Yes, Charlie has the latest filtration system installed. Fresher than fresh, actually.”
He took a sip. The trickle of water worked its way down his throat and into his stomach. So intense was the sensation that he visualized the liquid revitalizing his body and organs. It made him close his eyes, thankful for the small mercies in life.
Nutrene giggled at his reaction as she opened the cabinet door, “Good?”
“God, yeah,” he muttered in ecstasy, “Damn good.”
“Gotta keep that impressive physique of yours on-point if we’re going to do our job.”
Alex looked down the length of his body. The fine hairs around his well-defined chest and abdomen seemed to stand on end, almost as if it had been rubbed with a balloon.
“What’s that?”
Neg swiveled her cylindrical head and flashed her eyebulbs, “Interference, probably. We’re trying to establish contact with Opera Beta.”
“We’ve found Opera Beta?” Nutrene picked out her USARIC inner-suit jacket from the cupboard. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and inspected the lapels around her neck, “That was fast. How long ago?”
“A few hours. She’s orbiting Enceladus, but isn’t communicating,” Neg said.
Alex looked in the mirror above the wash basin and analyzed his face. As expected, he’d grown an impressive amount of facial hair during stasis. Today, he looked like a different person. His hirsute facial rendition in the mirror added a few years.
“I guess we’re going to board, anyway,” he said.
“Of course we are. Invite or no invite.”
Nutrene placed her hand on Alex’s shoulder and smiled at him via the mirror, “The beard suits you, you know.”
“It’s coming straight off once I’m dressed,” he moved his eyes to her reflection, “How come you’re not feeling groggy after such a long journey, anyway?”
“I’m used to it,” she extended a strap in her hands and placed her right, bare foot on the side of the hyper-sleep pod, “Seven visits to IMS. You get used to it.”