“No, no, please—”
THWOMP.
Jaycee slammed Tor on the back of his neck with his new ‘Baldron hand’ and continued to the door, “Landaker says hello, dickhead.”
Manuel slumped in the air and shook his covers in disapproval, “Jaycee?”
“What?”
“That was unnecessary.”
“You’re unnecessary, my encyclopedic friend,” Jaycee palmed the panel on the wall. The door opened and allowed him out, “Are you coming or what?”
“Very well.”
As the pair left, Tripp, Poz, and Neg discovered they had front row seats to the unveiling of Tor’s breakfast.
“Bloooarrggghhh—”
SCHPLA-AA-TT.
Chunks of spew splattered around his feet. The pink gunk ran across the floor and down the nearest grate.
“Oh, that’s just gross,” the three of them complained. They turned away and pinched their nostrils shut.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jaycee watched Alex and Nutrene enter Opera Beta’s airlock. He tapped the window and held his thumb up at them, “Ready?”
Both of them nodded and held their thumbs up at him.
“Okay,” Jaycee said to Manuel, “Let’s decompress and get them in.”
“Good idea,” Manuel said.
“Here we go,” Jaycee yanked the level down and eyed the pressure inlet on the wall. The dial spun to the left, indicating the pressure drop.
SPRIIISSSHHHH!
A cloud of white gas burst around Alex and Nutrene. The inner airlock door flew up and offered the pair onto the ship.
“Hey, team Charlie,” Jaycee stood aside and thumped his chest plate, “I’m Jaycee Nayall, Weapons and Armory. This, here, is our autopilot.”
“Thank you so much for coming to rescue us,” Manuel said.
Alex went to peel off his mask.
“You might want to keep that on, by the way,” Jaycee said. “We don’t want you getting sick.”
“Right,” Alex loosened his grip and made his way out of the airlock, “I heard you guys encountered some alien entity. Is it really that bad?”
“Your robot droid thing says Beta is thoroughly infected,” Jaycee said.
“Poz and Neg?” Nutrene smirked. “They’re a handful, aren’t they?”
“They’re certainly not on nodding terms with manners, I’ll give them that. The virus isn’t affecting us Androgynes, but the same can’t be said for you humans.”
Nutrene exited the inner airlock door. It sliced shut like a guillotine behind her, “Where have you been all this time?”
“I’d rather my Captain fill you in on the details.”
“We need to know everyone’s coordinates,” Alex said. “Where’s Anderson?”
“I think she’s resting in Medix.”
“Medix?”
“Yes, level three.”
“Level three?” Alex raised an eyebrow at Nutrene, “Take us to your captain, please. Let’s get you guys out of—” he stopped talking and clamped eyes on the floating Manuel, “Are you the autopilot?”
“Indeed I am, yes. I’m Manuel. Very nice to meet you both.”
“You too. Where is Captain Tripp Healy?”
“Just this way,” Manuel turned around and fluttered up the walkway, “He’s at the control deck…”
Tor slammed his left hand on the communications panel and dry-heaved. The sweat on his face turned to a fine jelly. He fell to his knees, seriously worse for wear.
“Guuuh,” his mouth began to foam, “Shaaaa…”
Tripp looked over from the flight deck and immediately raced over to him, intending to help the man to his feet, “Jesus, Tor. What’s wrong with you?”
“I n-need to t-tell you something.”
Tripp hooked his arms under Tor’s one remaining armpit and helped him to his feet, “What is it?”
“I’m d-dying.”
“Ha. And not for the first time,” Poz blurted, concentrating on the up-link from the console.
“Dying?” Tripp analyzed the man’s face. His eyes were beyond bloodshot. Snot and fluids poured from his ears and nose, “Look at me.”
“Oh-oh k-kay.”
Tor’s pupils wound around and turned a murky, urine-color.
“My God. Tor, you’re really sick.”
“I’ve b-been t-trying to t-tell y-you.”
SWISH.
“Hey, you two,” Jaycee shouted at the pair as he walked into the control deck with Manuel, Alex and Nutrene behind him, “Get a room, for heaven’s sake.”
Tripp kept Tor upright, “Jaycee, look at him. He needs urgent medical attention.”
“Where’s Wool?”
“Still at Medix, I think,” Jaycee looked at Alex and Nutrene, “Sorry about this, guys. Our Russian traitor, here, is feeling a bit—”
“—Viktor Rabinovich?” Alex eyed Tor with keen interest.
Tor slid behind Tripp, using him as a body shield.
Jaycee went for his Rez-9, “Huh? Tor, what are you—”
Alex threw his left arm out like a Samurai sword.
SCHUNT.
The Rez-9 flew into his palm. He swung his arm to Tor and threatened to shoot him, “Viktor Rabinovich.”
“Yes,” Tor removed the Rez-9 from Tripp’s belt and thrust the barrel against his temple, “Stay back or I’ll blow his head off.”
A three-way standoff occurred.
Tor held Tripp’s gun at his temple. Alex kept his firearm pointed at Tor’s forehead.
Jaycee swung his Rez-9 from Alex to Tor, and then back at Alex, “Hey, what’s going on?”
Nutrene held out her hands, desperate to put a halt to the forthcoming violence.
“Guys, please? Can we work this out?”
Alex took a step closer to Tor, who hid behind Tripp’s body, “You’re meant to be dead—”
“—I am d-dead,” Tor screamed back, “Don’t come any closer or I’ll blow this bastard’s memory banks out all over this place.”
“Drop your weapon, Rabinovich,” Alex threatened. “Do it.”
“What’s this about?” Tripp muttered, keeping his arms outstretched.
“Th-that s-sonofabitch Alex Hughes,” Tor thumbed the side of the Rez-9 and armed it, “He t-tried to assassinate m-me—”
“—Why?”
“B-Because, h-he works f-for—” Tor grunted and growled. The barrel slipped away from Tripp’s temple and launched into the air.
Alex took another step forward and prepared to blast Tor’s forehead apart, “Rabinovich, get on your knees—”
SCHPLATTT-GROOWWWWLLL!
Tor’s chest catapulted into the air, taking his mechanical body with it. His one remaining arm cracked apart and released a fleshy Shanta limb.
SCHTOMP-CRAACK.
The limb smashed its talon to the ground, shaking everyone across the ground like a tray of marbles.
“Wuh-wuh,” Alex ran to the other end of the wall, “What’s happening to him?”
Tripp scooped his Rez-9 from the floor and swung it at Tor – or, what little remained of him, “He’s changing into one of those things.”
“What things—?”
SPATCH-CREAK-SLAMM.
Four Shanta limbs burst from Tor’s sides and slammed to the floor. The talons dug against the ground and produced a whirlwind of electric sparks. The synthetic skin over his neck pulled apart and tossed his head to the floor.
A messy fusion of creature limbs and Tor’s devastated top half staggered toward the door, squealing and growling all the way.