“This is asinine,” Tor tried to jump out of his seat and accost the rude droid, but slumped back to his seat in pain.
“Four minutes remaining till the transfer is complete,” Poz’s head spun around to Neg and Tripp, “Okay, enough bum-fondling from you two, please. I gather we have visitors at the airlock.”
“That is correct,” Manuel bent his back cover toward the door, “Tripp? Would you like me to meet and greet our guests from Opera Charlie?”
“Yes, and take Jaycee with you.”
Jaycee needed someone to take out his frustration on, and so thumped Tor on the back, “Do I look like a doorman?”
Tripp looked him up and down. That Kevlar suit. His large frame, and booming voice.
“Actually, yes.”
“Fair enough.”
“Stop being insubordinate and go with Manuel. Remember who’s your Captain, here.”
“Fine,” He stomped toward the door in a huff and clenched his fist as he walked past Tor.
“N-No, d-don’t hit me! I’m sick—”
“—You got that right,” Jaycee lifted his fist and threatened to clobber the man.
“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
Primary Airlock
Space Opera Beta
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.
SCH
TOMP-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.
“Get behind something,” Nutrene screamed through her mask and dived behind the flight deck.
“Help m-me…” Tor’s head hung by a thread of synthetic skin down the back of the Shanta, “I n-need help.”
“Open fire.”
BAM-BAM-BAM!
Tor’s bottom half ran out of the control deck, carrying its six half-formed limbs with it.
“God damn it,” Tripp turned to Manuel. “Raise the alarm, now. It’s run off into the ship.”
“Yes, of course.”
ARRROOOOO-GAH!
The control deck dimmed as red lights swiveled around the walls and floor.
Tripp, Alex, Nutrene, and Jaycee bolted through the door after the screaming monstrosity.
AROOOOOO-GAH!
“Emergency,” came the recorded voice, “The alarm has been raised. Please be advised. Remain where you are until instructed otherwise. Thank you, and have a nice day.”
Poz turned to Neg and bounced on the spot. They were alone at last.
“I dunno why they’re bothering trying to kill it. The whole place is gonna be history soon.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Excited, Neg rolled back and opened up her orb-shaped back. A stack of canisters clanged to the floor, “Want me to prime them?”
“If you would be so kind, yes,” Poz peeked at his transfer cable, “Sixty seconds and we have the data. We’re going back home with Anderson, dead or alive. Preferably dead.”
“Aww,” Neg squealed over the racket of the alarms, “Why dead?”
“Because the only good pussy is a dead pussy.”
“Huh,” Neg knocked into the canisters. The green light on top flashed, indicating they were set. Her eyebulbs turned white as she rolled her head up to the windshield, “Oxade, this is Neg Bass.”
“Come in, Neg. What the hell is all that fuss I’m hearing on Beta?”
“Oh, they threatened to shoot each other. Nothing to do with us—”
“—They what?” Oxade screamed in both Poz and Neg’s heads, “What do you mean threatened to shoot each other?”
“Rabinovich is on board Beta, Oxade,” Poz said. “He turned into a man-spider thing and ran off. It was horrendous, quite frankly.”
“Have you gone insane? Right, that’s enough. I’m boarding Beta.”
Neg knocked the canisters on the floor and threw a blue beam over them, “Ah, actually, I wouldn’t do that.”
The Control Deck
Space Opera Charlie
Oxade pulled the weapons cupboard open. He unhooked the D-REZ semi-automatic, extended its shoulder holster and booted the door shut.
“The nukes?” Oxade roared into his headgear and ran out of the deck, “Please tell me you planted the nukes?”
“Yes,” Poz’s voice rumbled into his ear, “They’re primed to go.”
“Good. You’ve just saved yourself a messy execution,” Oxade snatched a gelatin swab from the wall and raced along the walkway, “I’m boarding Beta and taking care of this. Stay there and wait for me.”
SCHLOOP.
He smeared the gelatinous mush around his face as he walked. The compound material stretched across his skin. Pockets of air burst out of his skin. The end result made his face look like it was covered in cellophane.
“Primary airlock, ETA twenty seconds.”
“There’s really no need to do that, Captain,” Poz’s voice reached Oxade’s helmet headgear, “We’d rather you not leave Charlie unmanned—”
“—I’d rather you not be a useless tin opener but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?”
Poz thought about Oxade’s retort, “Actually, yes I do—”
“—Shut up and open the damn bridge.”
SWISH!
The inner airlock door flew up and offered Oxade into the chamber.
“As you desire, Captain. In your own time.”
“Don’t patronize me, you mechanical moron.”
Level One Stairwell
Space Opera Beta
Tor stumbled down the steps. His swinging, most-severely head clanged against the railings. Its mouth squealed in pain.
Six limbs shot out from his ribcage and pressed against the wall, aiding his decent.
His left leg slammed to the next step and broke apart. The connective flesh slipped away from his metallic femur ‘bone’ and swiped its talon.
His right leg fell off when it connected with the next step. Another limb burst out through his metallic ball joint. Tor was no longer an Androgyne but a fully-formed Shanta.
Tripp, Jaycee, Alex, and Nutrene reached the top step with their weapons aimed at the half-man, half-Shanta monstrosity, “Tor, stay where you are.”
“Screeeeeeeee,” the Shanta widened its slit and whipped Tor’s head into the air.
SCHOMP-CLOTCH!
It caught Tor’s jaw between its teeth and yanked it away from the top of his skull.
“Damn,” Alex gasped, “That virus really kicks ass, doesn’t it?”
BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!
Tripp and Jaycee opened fire on the creature. It gripped the railings with all twelve limbs and scurried down the next set of steps.
“Get it,” Tripp shouted after it and continued down the staircase.
“Screeeeee,” The Shanta’s two front limbs hit the next step, tripped on something unexpected and crashed against the level two sign on the wall.
“Miew,” came a whine of protest from the step.
The Shanta stomped four of its limbs to the floor and the remaining eight against the wall and ceiling and screeched in pain.
Jelly shifted her weight and stood to her feet, “Not again.”
SCHTANG-SCHTANG!
She flung out her infinity claws by her sides and prepared to slash the creature.
“Jelly,” Jaycee aimed his Rez-9 at the creature, “Get out of the way.”
She turned over her shoulder and licked her lips, ready for war, “No.”
“I mean it, Jelly.”
The Shanta pushed itself from the wall like an octopus and bolted towards Jelly. She pulled her elbows back, ready to swipe at the monstrosity.
“That’s Anderson?” Alex lowered his gun, trying to take the information in, “But sh-she’s…”
“Yeah. Difficult to believe, huh?” Tripp spat. “Would you believe me if I told you she’s pregnant, too?”
SWIPE-SWISH-CRACK!
Jelly right-hooked the Shanta, sending it hurtling over the rails between the stairs, “Meow.”
WHOOOSH!
The Shanta plummeted between the stairs. Its limbs smashed against the stairs as it tumbled down.
The signage for levels two, three, and four flew past its slit as its screams echoed up the stairwell.
“Jelly, what did you do?” Jaycee barged past her and hopped down the next flight of stairs.
“I killed it,” she said and followed him.
Tripp, Alex, and Nutrene ran down after them.
“Are you gonna tell us what that thing is, now?” Nutrene shouted after Tripp and Jaycee as they jumped down to the level three gantry.
“We’ve called it Symphonium,” Tripp explained. “Some sort of messed up evolutionary virus.”
<
br /> Jelly peered over the staircase, “It came from the ocean. It turned the algae into fish. The fish into mammals. The mammals into apes. The apes into humans, and the humans into—”
“—Shaaantaaa,” the monstrosity squealed from two floors below. Everyone jumped in their shoes as the volume of its voice rattled their ears.
Jelly pointed at Alex and Nutrene’s faces, “Keep those masks on, humans.”
“Yes, we will,” Alex failed to comprehend the absurdity of his findings.
Jelly wrapped her infinity claws around the staircase railing and bent her knees, preparing to jump the next couple of flights.
“Jelly, what are you doing?” Tripp swung his gun at her.
She shot him a look of pure venom and swished her tail.
“I’m going to kill it dead,” she squealed, “Go to Medix and get Wool.”
“We can’t leave you here on the ship. What if you don’t make it off?”
“I’ll make it off,” Jelly’s claws sparked up a frenzy, expressing her desire for death, “I’m going to rip Tor’s battery out like you should have done days ago. Now, go!”
“But—”
HOP-SWISH!
Jelly swung her legs over the rail and plummeted down the gap in the staircase.
“Meeooowwwww…” her voice etched further and further away.
“Guys, let’s go get Wool.”
***
Jelly landed awkwardly paws-first at level five. She rolled onto her side and clutched her baby bump.
“Ughhh,” she scrambled to her feet. The Shanta slapped its limbs along the ground, walls and ceiling, pulling itself across the corridor and well away from Jelly.
“Hey, Tor,” Jelly screamed after it as she staggered to her feet, “Come back here.”
“Screeeeeeee.”
Jelly took a deep breath and lowered her head. The glow from within her stomach formed into three, glowing orbs.
She winced as she tried to move forward, “God. Not now.”
The Shanta reached the door to Pure Genius. With nowhere else to go, it slammed its talons against the door in attempt to open it.
“Hey,” Jelly flung her claws out by her hips and growled as she moved toward the cornered beast, “I know that’s you in there, Tor.”
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