“Understood,” Neg said.
“Keep your feed transmitting at all times. Upon connection break, we will wait thirty seconds until advancement.”
“Understood,” Poz said. “I will keep transmitting. Twenty second responder time.”
Oxade stepped out of the image and held out his arm, “Manny, proceed with disembarkation.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Oxade winked at the pair of bulbous droids, “Good luck, guys.”
“We don’t need luck,” Neg chuckled and turned to the outer airlock door, “Let’s go kill us some bad guys.”
Tripp checked his appearance in the airlock window. Poz and Neg rolled in tandem across the bridge, pausing occasionally to look up at Saturn.
“Thanks so much for coming to save us,” Tripp rehearsed his greeting under his breath, “Ugh, no. That sounds wrong.”
He stood up straight and affected a more diligent aura.
“Welcome to Opera Beta. I’m the captain. Tripp Healy,” he said. “Ugh, whatever.”
Manuel appeared a few feet away and clapped his covers together, “Tripp?”
“Yes, Manuel?”
“You know those old science fiction movies?”
“Yes, what about them?”
“Sometimes the main character discovers something strange and says ‘I have a bad feeling about this’ to the others.”
“Okay,” Tripp shrugged his shoulders, “So what?”
“Well, at the risk of sounding trite, I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“This?” Tripp turned to the droids on the bridge, “They’re just canaries, Manuel. They’re mostly harmless—”
“—I’m not referring to the two weird-looking things on the bridge,” Manuel shifted closer to his captain, “It’s the humans that concern me.”
“What?”
“According to the USARIC database, two of the three are from USARIC’s mercenary division.”
“So?”
“Why would they send mercs on a rescue mission? A skeleton crew of three, plus two droids?”
“Space is a big, bad place. You know that,” Tripp gave some consideration to Manuel’s concern, “We’ve been missing for three years. You can’t blame USARIC for exercising some due diligence and taking precautions. Anything could have happened to us. In fact, thinking about it, anything did happen to us. Who knows what effects Symphonium will have on them. The moment we get back we’ll be quarantined and no doubt farmed out to pharmaceutical companies.”
Manuel wasn’t convinced.
“It would have been remiss of me not to have mentioned it.”
“I know, and thank you,” Tripp finished. “You’re right to have aired your concern.”
The bridge offered a superb view of Saturn. Poz and Neg couldn’t help but take in the glorious wonder of the planet.
“She’s one huge ball of gas,” Poz quipped as he raced forward toward Opera Beta.
“Very intimidating,” Neg attempted to keep up with Poz’s pace, “It’s scary.”
Oxade’s voice rattled through their heads, “Hey, cretins. We don’t pay you to admire the view.”
“You don’t pay us at all.”
“That’s not the point. We’re on a time limit, here. Get moving.”
“Soh-ree,” Poz spat with sarcasm. He rolled forward and changed his shape into a giant metal ball, “How’s about this for speed?”
He whizzed along the bridge at speed, creating sparks against both sides of the railings.
“A Newton’s cradle ball?” Oxade huffed, none-too-impressed. “Poz, you’re not beyond dispensation, you know. I’ll active your little nuclear setting and blast your shiny butt into the next multiverse if you’re not careful.”
“Neg is slowing me down,” Poz shifted back to his regular shape and fanned out his cylindrical magnet. He kept his eyebulbs focused on the bridge floor at it whizzed under his frame.
“I am not slowing you down,” Neg yelped as the magnetic pull made her entire body soar towards Poz.
SWISH-SCHLAMM…
Her curved frame slapped against Poz’s, enabling him to carry her the remainder of the way to Opera Beta.
“Stop doing that,” she complained.
“Stop crawling like a snail, then,” Poz lowered his volume, “We don’t want to anger Oxade,” he upped his volume and spoke up the length of the bridge, “Advising an ETA of thirty seconds.”
“Understood. I’ll have Manny access Beta’s Manuel and activate the airlock.”
“Awaiting Beta’s airlock hatch to allow us in.”
Poz rolled up to the door and extended two sensors from his neck joint. His spindly rope-like arm retracted into his body, “Look, that must be Beta’s captain.”
Poz moved to the left and clanged against the bridge railing as he focused through the window of the outer airlock door. Tripp stared at him from behind the inner airlock hatch window.
“Handsome man,” Neg bounced up and down on the spot which caused the bridge to rattle back and forth.
“Don’t do that, you’ll get us killed,” Poz said.
“Sorry, I’m just super excited.”
“We’re not here to make friends. We’re here to get what we need and get out with the minimum of fuss.”
SWISHHHH.
The outer airlock door opened, allowing Poz and Neg to roll inside. The door scissored down and sealed them in the chamber.
“Opera Charlie, be advised. We have boarded Beta.”
“Good, now find what we need. Remember, keep it friendly.”
A blast of white gas enveloped them, bringing the pressure back to a habitable consistency.
“Shh,” Poz stared at Tripp’s face through the glass shield on the inner door, “He’s looking at us.”
“He’s cute,” Neg beeped.
Tripp grabbed the airlock hatch lever and prepared to open the door, “I’m going manual on this.”
“Fair enough,” Manuel pushed himself back and opened himself out, “When you’re ready.”
“Here we go,” Tripp yanked the lever down forcing the hatch to slide up. He looked at the two futuristic ball-shaped androids in front of him.
“Welcome to Space Opera Beta.”
“Hey. I’m Poz. She’s Neg.”
He rolled past Tripp’s thigh and surveyed the dark surroundings, “Nice place you have here.”
Neg moved over to Tripp and spun her bulbous ‘head’, “You must be Tripp Healy?”
“I am. Very nice to meet you,” Tripp held out his hand. She looked at it and drew a confused look across her surface, “That’s your hand.”
“Yes? I know.”
“Why are you doing that, Tripp Healy?” Neg asked.
He relaxed the muscles in his palm.
“It’s customary to shake hands with friends.”
“Oh, we’re not your friends,” she squealed, softly, “We’re here to make sure everything is as it should be.”
Tripp folded his arms and gave as good as he got, “Did you sue him?”
“Sue who?”
“The moron who installed your charm chip?”
Neg frowned and twisted away from Tripp in defiance, “That’s not funny—”
“—Hey, Neg. Check this out,” Poz bounded down the corridor and twisted his head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees on his neck, “This spacecraft is nasty.”
“What do you mean nasty—”
“—Tripp Healy,” Poz interrupted, “We need to check out the control deck. Our Captain wants a full sit-rep of Opera Beta.”
“Uh, sure?”