“Ugh, you must have nicked me with your claw, honey.”
“I didn’t.”
The pair shared a moment. Both knew deep down inside that something wasn’t quite right.
Wool shook her head and pointed at the wall by Jelly’s bed, “Let’s get a new measurement, honey.”
“Okay.”
Jelly walked backwards to the wall, “Do you miss Bonnie?”
Her question caught Wool off-guard.
“Press your shoulders against the wall,” Wool squeezed the thumb on her left hand as she marched in front of her. “Of course I miss her. Why did you ask me that?”
Jelly pressed her back to the wall and yawned. Her ears and mouth stretched across her face, inadvertently revealing her fangs and bright orange eyes.
Wool would never get over how horrific Jelly’s face looked when she yawned.
“I noticed you stopped speaking to Bonnie before we went to war,” Jelly asked. “Why?”
“I didn’t,” Wool dismissed the accusation and clocked Jelly’s height, “I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
She looked at the height marks on the wall beside Jelly’s leg.
3’3” - 4’6” - 5’4”
The latter recording marked chest-high to Jelly.
“You’ve grown so quickly over the past day or so,” Wool glanced at Jelly’s face, “Hold still a moment.”
“Why am I growing?” Jelly asked.
“We don’t know, honey. It’s something to do with the Symphonium.”
“Sim… fow… knee… umm…” Jelly repeated.
Wool tiptoed and pressed the fleshy part of her thumb on top of Jelly’s head. The sharp curve lit up and scored a line into the wall.
“Height reading, please,”
The mark on the wall throw a beam of soft, white light to the floor and calculated the distance.
“Seven feet exactly,” advised the thumbnail.
Wool paced back and took in Jelly’s towering height. A sickening idea popped into her mind. One that she felt couldn’t be repeated verbally.
“Is everything okay, mommy?”
Wool rubbed her face and tried to halt her emotions, “If you keep growing like this, it’s not good.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” Wool lied and sniffed away her tears. “Honey, please. You need to stop…”
Jelly didn’t know how to respond. She tried for a smile - a wry attempt to make her assumed mother happy once again, “Am I a big girl, now?”
“Yes. You are.”
Chapter 12
Space Opera Charlie
Alex opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize where he was at first. He felt something crawl across the side of his face.
Whatever it was that touched him had an elbow attached to it. Alex ran his tongue across his lips. A thin layer of film had formed over the skin.
“Where am I? What happened?” he whispered.
“You passed out,” Nutrene’s reassuring tone drifted into his right ear.
He looked up the length of the arm to find the woman smiling at him. Her scary monocle tore his gaze away from her lips.
Alex felt the urge to grab his gun and defend himself, “Jesus, he tried to kill me.”
“No. He didn’t. Oxade was just making sure you were on-point.”
“On-point? He accused me of espionage,” Alex blurted, still reeling from the effects of escaping execution, “He sure has a funny way of making sure his crew are okay.”
Her face crept over his. An undeniable heat rolled across her pupils as she stared into his eyes, “It’s okay, now. We’re about to board Opera Beta.”
“Is it safe?”
“Perfectly.”
Without warning she planted her lips on his and kissed him. He didn’t fight at first due to the shock. The deeper the kiss, the more he felt the need to push her away.
Alex clamped his hands on her shoulders and extricated himself from the unwanted attention. Nutrene wouldn’t stop and hoped Alex would sink into the event and enjoy it. Her palm slapped against his forehead and pinned the back of his head against his pillow.
“Nggg,” he struggled and flung his head to the side. His lips yanked several ropes of saliva across his cheek.
“Hey,” Nutrene’s monocle twisted around and focused on his face. She grabbed his hand and thrust it against her bare midriff, “Don’t you want this?”
“No,” he shoved back and threw his legs over the side of the bed, “Get off me.”
Nutrene jumped off the bed and rotated her monocle, “I guess we don’t see eye to eye, then.”
“Very funny,” Alex stood to his feet and brushed himself down, “Anyway, I have a girlfriend.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
“If you must know, it’s Grace.”
“Ha,” Nutrene folded her arms in defiance. She threw her body weight onto her left leg, making damn sure her thigh was visible, “You know what they say about women who are named after adjectives, don’t you?”
Alex turned away, “It’s not an adjective. It’s a noun. Graceful would be an adject—”
“—Is she better than me?” she interrupted, taking offense at his dismissal and little interest in his ad-hoc English class.
“What is it with you, Nutrene?” Alex stood up and ran his hands through his hair, “Ever since we met you’ve been making eyes at me—”
“—That was a cheap jab.”
She turned away in a huff.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been looking at me. You’re meant to be focusing on the mission.”
“We spend all our time killing on behalf of the government,” she tried to win him around with a sly wink from her monocle, “Make love, not war. Right?”
“A bit of professionalism might help, here. Nutrene.”
“Oxade was right,” she snapped. “There’s something not quite right about you.”
“Really? How so?”
“Just the way you’re behaving. You’re not like any USARIC merc I’ve ever met. In touch with your feminine side? Acting like a little fairy, more like.”
“You’re screwed in the head. And that’s the only part of you that’s getting screwed if I have anything to do with it.”
“Funny man, aren’t you? Alex Hughes,” Nutrene bit her lip and decided she couldn’t look at him any longer, “You can’t blame a red-blooded woman pining for some human contact.”
“That’s the price you pay for dealing USARIC’s dirty work,” Alex made for the door with a steely determination to get the job done, “Don’t lecture me about right and wrong, Nutrene. You don’t know what you’re up against.”
“What’s that meant to mean?” she screamed. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Assault them, Nutrene. Don’t assault me,” Alex finished and left the room.
Primary Airlock
Space Opera Charlie
“No messing around. Just get on board and transmit your findings,” Oxade’s voice emanated through Poz’s head as he rolled toward the airlock on his cylinder.
“I don’t intend to mess around, Oxade.”
Poz turned down the walkway and saw Neg rolling towards him, “Would you hurry up, please?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not good enough.”
The front of Poz’s crescent body opened up and produced a cylindrical magnet.
SPIZZZZ…
It rumbled violently and shook the air in front of it, “Come on, we’re wasting time, here.”
WHIZZ-SCHUNT!
The magnetic force lassoed Neg across the walkway. The side of her body slammed against his magnetic plate. He released her and spun around to the first airlock door.
“Oxade, we’re here. Can you open door A?”
“Opening, now,” Oxade advised.
The door slid open and
allowed the pair into the chamber.
“Standby for decompression.”
The Control Deck
Space Opera Charlie
Oxade and Manny watched the giant three-dimensional holographic live feed of the airlock. Poz and Neg rolled into the decompression chamber.
The first door slammed shut behind them.
“Manny will attempt communication with Beta’s autopilot. The bridge will connect in sixty seconds.”
“Understood,” Poz said.
“Can you switch to 3-D representation, please.”
A black rod crept out from Poz’s scalp and fanned out into three prongs. Three transparent beams blasted around the decompression chamber.
Oxade took a few steps back as the live feed developed depth, slinking out into a three-dimensional box.
“Very good, thank you,” Oxade hit a button on the console. “Commencing decompression. Standby.”
SWWIIISSHHHH.
A blast of white gas flew out of the chamber’s walls and engulfed Poz and Neg. The glass-covered pressure inlet dial on the wall spun around.
“Reminds me of the last time you farted,” Neg chuckled to herself through the blast.
“I don’t fart.”
“Guys, knock it off,” Oxade said. “Taking you down to zero point five, ay-tee-em,” he turned to Manny, “How’s the link-up with Beta?”
“The bridging process is nearly complete,” Manny shuffled around in the air. A loading bar hung in front of her cover.
Opera Beta and Opera Charlie hung side by side. Beta’s white bridge rails extended toward its sister ship’s airlock.
CLAMP.
Opera Charlie’s bridge end latched on Opera Beta’s. The two vessels connected successfully.
“Connection secure,” Manny turned to Oxade, “Decompression set.”
Oxade stepped into the three-dimensional image, effectively appearing alongside Poz and Neg, “Okay. Listen up. I want an atmosphere reading as soon as you’re on board. Second, we need to know who’s alive and, more particularly, where Anderson is.”
“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.”
Primary Airlock
Space Opera Beta
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 t
he 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?”
Tripp frowned at Poz and Neg’s faux charm and insistence on making themselves at home, “I can fill you in, if you like?”
“No point,” Poz rolled forward and extended his sensors, “Oxade? Do you read me?”
“Yes, Poz. Please advise.”
“Atmosphere levels are fit for human consumption. Which is more than can be said for her decor. Oxygen set at twenty-one percent. Gas readings remain steady.”
“Good. That suits us just fine,” Oxade’s voice chirped into Poz and Neg’s head.
Star Cat: The First Trilogy (Infinity Claws, Pink Symphony, War Mage) Page 62