SpaceBook Awakens (Amy Armstrong 3)

by Stephen Colegrove

  One leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Wilson, you idiot. Of course they have chocolate, but it’s far too dangerous to send anyone down to get it.”

  “Of course, my Lady.”

  “How long until sunrise?”

  Wilson scrambled to a nearby station and stared at the display. “Two hours, sixteen minutes.”

  “Prepare the quantum attenuation chamber for three subjects.”

  “For immediate testing?”

  One looked down at the metal fingers of her hand, spread out on her lap.

  “No. For two hours and sixteen minutes from now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The feather-like clouds above the Santa Lucia mountains brightened into shades of scarlet and orange as morning approached. The colors slashed across the deep blue sky like strokes from a giant brush and contrasted sharply with the dry yellow mountains and colorless ocean. The Hare Twist hovered three hundred meters above the waves and would have excellent views of the sunrise.

  One had the prisoners chained at wrist and paw. She led the way to the port observation room, where she ordered them to face the floor-to-ceiling windows as the pilot turned the ship to the south. A dozen cat and dog soldiers stood behind Amy, Philip, Three, Sunflower, and Nick, the barrels of their plasma rifles pointed at the captives.

  Amy stared at Monterey and Pacific Grove on the coast. A faint haze of smoke hung over the two villages as the cannery smokestacks warmed and kitchen maids lit fires to prepare the morning breakfast.

  “What’s the point?” she asked. “I’m not even from here. Why would I want to see it?”

  “A last sunrise for the condemned,” murmured Philip next to her.

  One walked to the window in front of the captives and rubbed at a speck of dirt on the glass. “I don’t really know why I want to make such a dramatic spectacle of this. I suppose for some moments in life, there are no words.”

  Three groaned. “Shut up and kill us already.”

  One turned to the captives and calmly folded her hands behind her back.

  “You have every right to think of me as an inhuman monster, but not a cruel one. The procedure for transforming your bodies into super-heated plasma is painless, and you’ll feel nothing. Capturing you has cost the lives of hundreds of crew members and millions of woolongs in damaged equipment, but I do this for science, not for any revenge.”

  “I didn’t ask you to chase after us!” said Amy. “Those dead cats and dogs are your fault.”

  Philip nodded. “Good show, Amy. Like any megalomaniac, she’s trying to shift the blame to us. There’s no excuse possible that will wipe clean your slate of monstrous behavior, whether that excuse is science, religion, or the good of the country. Why can’t you take responsibility for your actions?”

  One turned to stare at the scarlet glow behind the mountains. “Great discoveries require great sacrifice. I don’t have to explain myself.”

  “But your actions betray you. Bringing us here at sunrise could only be because you wanted to explain yourself.”

  “We know the real truth,” said Amy. “You want to see your husband again.”

  One flushed and her scar turned red. She jabbed a finger at Three.

  “You shouldn’t have told them!”

  The teenager shrugged. “What are you going to do––kill me?”

  “You had a choice. You’ve always had choices, Three––to do as I asked, to kill or not kill, to run away when you got bored. But you didn’t, you stayed with my crew and are just as responsible as I am for the deaths of those dimensional copies. I suppose getting rid of you is my way of erasing that debt.”

  “It’s just like Philip said,” growled Amy. “You’re trying to feel better about killing us!”

  She took a step toward One, but soldiers grabbed her chained arms and pulled her back.

  “You’re right about Three having a choice,” Amy continued. “But she’s not like you. Whatever happened in the past, she decided to help me. We became friends, and it wasn’t just because we had to survive. Don’t make the mistake of thinking everyone sees the world like you do.”

  “Another feature of megalomania,” said Philip.

  One smiled grimly. “A megalomaniac sees herself at the center of everything, even when she’s not. In our case, we ARE the center of everything. Think about the fact that Amy Armstrong and Philip Marlborough are the only true constants through every dimension in the universe. The pattern of our molecules is a code for understanding time itself!”

  Three rolled her eyes. “Here we go again …”

  “All of those things can be true and you can still be crazy,” said Amy. “One fact doesn’t cancel out the other.”

  “You’re missing the point by focusing on me,” said One. “We’re all the same––you’re Amy Armstrong, she’s Amy Armstrong, and I’m Amy Armstrong. Each and every one of us is smart, talented, and mischievous, and will do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Look at the people chained next to you that you call ‘friends.’ Amy Armstrong dropped into their lives like a plasma bomb and they’ve been picking up the pieces ever since. If you think I’m a villain, then you should look in the mirror.”

  “I haven’t killed anyone!”

  “This is ridiculous,” said Philip. “Do as you will, but stop needling us to death.”

  One stepped in front of the teenager and touched his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be death for you, dear Philip. Travel the universe with me. Forget these people and save your life.”

  Philip shoved her hand away with his elbow. “I’d rather die.”

  One smiled. “Would you? Turn that latch below the window and pull up on the bar. Both you and your precious Amy can leap to your deaths into the sea. It’s impossible to survive a fall at this height. Isn’t that the meaning of true love––dying together?”

  Philip grimaced. “I’d rather you jump, Madame.”

  Amy grabbed Philip’s hand and glared at One.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about true love, would you? Only someone who’s dead inside would say things like that.”

  The older twin of Amy turned to stare at the first gleam of sunshine behind the eastern mountains. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “You might be right about that, Amy Armstrong.”

  The heavily-armed cat and dog soldiers marched the prisoners out of the observation room, down one deck and toward the center of the ship. They stopped the group at a thick metal hatch covered in red-and-white warning stripes and labeled in the center with the large block letters “Q.A.T.” Someone had scrawled a question mark in black marker after the letters.

  One pointed at the door. “Wilson––have that graffiti cleaned up.”

  “At once, my Lady!”

  The black cat licked a paw and jumped at the scrawled question mark to wipe it away. This was silly for several reasons, mainly because he couldn’t jump that high.

  “You imbecile,” said One. “I didn’t mean right now. Seriously, if you hadn’t been abandoned in a junk yard as a kitten, I’d track down your entire family and have them killed for stupidity.”

  Wilson bowed. “Thank you for bringing up memories of my painful and lonely childhood, Your Beautifulness.”

  One shielded her fingers from view as she entered a code into a keypad next to the door. Unseen gears clicked and spun inside the wall. The floor shook as the metal hatch rumbled to the side and revealed a small compartment with another hatch in the opposite wall.

  “Everyone inside,” said One. “Move! Not the troops––wait in the corridor.”

  The soldiers pushed Amy and her friends through the door, and One and Wilson stepped behind them into the small, closet-like room. The black cat pressed a red button and the hatch whisked shut.

  One pulled a glossy black pistol from her pocket and waved it at the prisoners. “Take off the restraints.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” growled Three. “I’ll claw your eyes out.”


  One held up the pistol. “That’s why I have this. The machinery in the next room generates strong magnetic forces. For the benefit of your tiny brains, that means all iron-based metals have to be left outside. That includes your disgusting flying pest.”

  Nick banged on the bars of the birdcage with her tiny fists. “What? I’m not made out of metal.”

  “No, but the cage is, and I’m not letting you out.”

  “You’ll pay for this, you monster! Sprites never forget.”

  As Wilson removed the chrome handcuffs around the wrists of each of the human prisoners, One kicked the birdcage with a high-heeled shoe and laughed. “I have punishments prepared especially for you, my little fairy devil. Anyone who eats a year’s supply of chocolate deserves something special. Those treats were worth a queen’s ransom in space. Do you like brownies?”

  “I love them!”

  “Good. You’ll be the special ingredient.”

  Philip gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He set the limp Sunflower on the floor and stepped toward One. She aimed the pistol at his forehead and the teenager backed away with his hands up.

  “Even if you take this weapon from me, there are a dozen crew members outside with rifles. All are very upset about the recent death of their friends. All of which was your fault.”

  Amy knelt beside the birdcage and touched Nick’s tiny hand through the bars.

  “Don’t give up, Nick,” she whispered. “Whatever happens to me or Philip, keep fighting.”

  Nick folded her dragonfly wings and crumpled to the floor of the cage, sobbing.

  “Take off your shoes,” One said to Amy and Three. “Definitely metal in those old things.”

  “Cats don’t wear shoes,” murmured Sunflower. The orange tabby raised his head from the floor, his eyes closed. “Dummy.”

  “We’ll find out who’s a dummy when I have you stuffed and mounted in my office. Wilson, stay here and guard the cat and the flying pest.”

  The black cat bowed. “My Lady.”

  One pressed a button next to the interior hatch and the door whisked to the side. She waved the pistol at the three teenagers and prodded them forward.

  The large room inside was packed wall-to-wall with blocky white equipment and tall glass cylinders filled with blue liquid that bubbled like giant lava lamps. It seemed more appropriate for testing Pop-Tarts than real science, or where a very anti-bacterial seventies deejay could write his memoirs. At the far end of the room, a beam of light illuminated a silver disc on the floor. Concentric circles of multi-faceted gems gleamed in the ceiling directly above the disc, so clear and bright that it hurt to look at them.

  One kept her pistol aimed at the backs of the three captives and stepped over the spaghetti tangle of cables on the floor to a keyboard and display bolted to an island of five white cylinders. She glanced through a few pages of data on the screen and tapped the keys for a moment.

  “Very good. All systems in order. Now––who’s first?”

  The hatch opened and Wilson stuck his black furry head inside.

  “My Lady––”

  “What is it, you brainless fleabag?”

  “Two and Four desperately wish to talk to you, my Lady. Both Wits Hater and Raw Twist have lifted off from their landing areas and are approaching our position at high speed.”

  One sighed. “What’s twisted their panties now?”

  “I don’t know, my Lady,” said Wilson. “Everyone knows that Four doesn’t wear them, so how could she––”

  The cat ducked as a high-heeled shoe banged off the hatch.

  “Get out, you fish-flavored moron! Tell them a story or share recipes or something. I’m busy!”

  Wilson disappeared and the hatch shut with an oily click.

  One stepped out of her other high heel and stood on the cables in her nylon-clad feet. She pointed the pistol back at the teenagers.

  “As I was saying––who’s first?”

  Philip stepped in front of Amy. “Whatever villainous torture you have planned, take me. Leave Amy and Three alone.”

  Amy grabbed his arm. “Philip!”

  One shrugged. “Tempting, I suppose, but the entire point of this overly dramatic production is to study the universal frequency data from dimensional copies. I can’t get the data without those two.”

  “You’ve found others before. You can find others in the future.”

  “There’s no guarantee. Why should I give up two birds in the hand for any number hiding in the trans-dimensional bushes?”

  “Because these young ladies are precious to me,” said Philip quietly. “Especially Amy.”

  Amy hugged him around the waist. “Forget it. She wants to make us beg, and that’s what you’re doing, Philip.”

  Three crossed her arms and glared at One. “Unbelievable. I spend years slaving on your pirate ship and this is the thanks I get. Get this over with, and quick.”

  “My crew may all be pirates, but any one of the mangy dullards are better than you,” said One. “How many times did they save your skin? How many times did they find you in a corner of Phobos Station, completely drunk off the cheapest dog beer? You wouldn’t remember any of that. You’re a self-centered, destructive child with no point to your life, and I should have done this a long time ago.”

  Three turned red and stared at the floor. “Yeah … well, you …”

  Amy put an arm around Three. “At least she knows she made mistakes. At least she tried to do something at the end, unlike you. You don’t care about anything but this pig-headed goal of traveling into the past to save your husband.”

  “Who was murdered,” said Three. “By you.”

  “What’s going to happen when you save him?” asked Amy, raising her voice. “Do you actually think he’ll be happy that you killed hundreds of innocent people to get back to him? You can’t be that stupid. There’s a little voice in your head that you try to squash, just like you squash everything, a little voice asking you over and over: ‘Am I the same person? Can he see me under the scars and the metal arm?’”

  Three smirked and pointed at One. “You’re doing all this for nothing. He’s going to reject you.”

  “And everything you stand for,” said Philip.

  One shook her head and chuckled. “Wow! This has been fun. Honestly, it has. The other dimensional copies mostly whined for their lives or yelled at me. It’s very interesting to have my life analyzed by a bunch of giggling teenagers, but it doesn’t change anything one bit. All of my energy since the tragedy has been driving me toward this research, and I’m not about to be driven off course by your noodle-headed logic.” She waved the pistol at Amy. “You first. Step on the platform. Move! I can de-res a dead body if I have to.”

  Amy hugged Philip and kissed him.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too,” he whispered. “Let me go first.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to see you die.”

  Amy pushed Philip away and walked over to the illuminated silver disc. She stood in the center of the light, hands clenched at her side to keep them from shaking, and glared at One.

  “Do it.”

  One shrugged and tapped a long series of keys. The hum from the equipment grew to a high-pitched whine. The multiple circles of gems above Amy’s head began to spin and gleam through the spectrum, covering Amy’s blonde hair in a pattern of rapidly-changing colors.

  “NO!” screamed Three.

  In a flash, she leapt across the room and pushed Amy off the silver disc. A blinding beam of light struck Three in the back, and the room filled with the smell of lavender and burning cotton.

  “Well, well,” murmured One, typing at the control panel with one hand while keeping the pistol aimed at Philip with the other. “This should be interesting.”

  Three lay sprawled across the disc on her stomach, grimacing in pain and breathing fast. Curls of smoke rose from the burnt edges of a large hole in the back of her nightgown
. Below the hole, the skin of her shoulder blade was as white as chalk.

  “No! What have you done to her?!!” shouted Philip.

  “She did it to herself,” said One. “I didn’t make her jump. From the data, it seems she caught a partial de-res. This should be very interesting to watch. Normally the subject is sent back through time to an original quantum state in a process that takes nano-seconds. This will be different.”

  Amy knelt beside Three and touched the teenager’s head.

  “That was stupid,” she said. “Why did you do that?”

  “Can’t breathe,” gasped Three. “Sit … me up.”

  Amy turned the young woman over and helped her into a sitting position, supporting her with an arm behind her back.

  “Thank … you,” gasped Three.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Amy. “You’re getting smaller. Your neck tattoo is gone!”

  Three had changed from a seventeen-year-old version of Amy to a skinny pre-teen in a matter of seconds, her chest shrinking, hips and shoulders narrowing, and body mass disappearing. The curls and highlights in her hair vanished as it straightened and returned to the same blonde shade as Amy’s.

  “Her body is experiencing a reverse quantum event,” said One in a bored tone. “Don’t worry, the end result will be the same.”

  Three pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown and held out her right arm to Amy. As both watched, the tattoo of a purple orchid disappeared from her pale skin.

  “Age … eight,” gasped Three, with a higher-pitched voice.

  Amy wiped tears from her eyes and hugged the shrinking girl tight.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I messed up everything, and I’m sorry.”

  The tiny hand of a five-year-old touched Amy’s cheek.

  “Don’t cry,” said Three. “Happy … to be … your friend.”

  Amy held her off the cold floor as the girl shrank down to a chubby toddler with pink cheeks and golden hair. The nightgown slipped away and Amy held a gurgling, blue-eyed infant in her lap.

  “It stopped,” she said, and stared at One. “She stopped shrinking.”

  One jiggled the pistol at Philip. The teenager ran his hands through his hair and paced back and forth, eyes wild and looking as if he wanted to burst.