Andrew Mackay - Pink Symphony

Jelly shrieked at the light show and ran toward the ocean in a fit of anger.

Tripp and Wool didn’t stick around to watch the unnatural event. They bolted across the sand, backtracking across their original footsteps.

The sand turned from hard ground to scattered mud. Next to them, rows of blackened plants and tiled walls.

The fluorescent lighting in Botanix crept along the floor.

“The door, quick!” Tripp pulled Wool along and darted for the opened door. As they gained on the rectangular structure, Tripp covered her from behind pushed her through the door to Botanix.

“Tripp,” Jaycee lifted his shotgun and aimed it at the door, “What the hell’s going on out there?”

“It’s a long story,” Tripp spat as he ran through and thumped his fist against the panel on the wall.

SCHUNT .

The door slid shut, cutting Opera Beta off from whatever that place was beyond the door.

Tripp caught his breath and coughed up a storm. Wool paced around, trying not to emote. She held her chest, hoping her heart wouldn’t grow limbs, climb up her throat and jump out of her mouth, “I feel sick.”

“What happened out there?” Jaycee stomped his foot to the floor and thumped Tor on the back for some semblance of satisfaction. “Where’s Anderson?”

“No time to explain,” Tripp turned to the door and hit the glass, making damn sure nothing could get in – or out. He spun around and pushed past Tor. “You.”

“Me?” Tor asked.

“Yes, you,” he said, pushing Tor forward by the shoulders. “We need to get Manuel back online right now. Let’s go. Come on.”

“Okay, okay.”

Wool chased after Tripp as he stormed off, “Where are we going?”

“The flight deck. It’s time for some answers.”

Jaycee kicked Tor along the corridor and showed him his glove. He delighted in threatening to activate his Decapidisc, “Speaking of answers, can you tell me what happened out there?”

For the first time in his career, Tripp felt that his crew might not believe his next statement.

“The dumb bomb Baldron threw into Botanix before we passed out?”

“Yeah?”

“It blew a hole open on the far wall and opened us up into a whole world of trouble.”

“What trouble?” Tor tried.

Jaycee hit him on the back of the head. “Hey, idiot, I’m asking the questions here, okay? You’re the convict who gets to shut up. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Jaycee spat. “What trouble, Tripp?”

Wool knew her captain wasn’t in the mood for explaining as they turned the corner and made their way to the control deck.

“We’ve landed on another planet. Haloo said it was called Pink Symphony. Then, she, uh, died again.”

“Died again ?”

Tor started to sniff. “I’m s-scared.”

“Shut up, Russian scum,” Jaycee shouted in his ear, “Say one more word and you’re dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jaycee, at the end of his tether, thumped the man on the back of the head to underscore his point. “And stop apologizing.”

“I’m sor—”

“—Something strange happened to Jelly,” Wool interjected, saving Tor from himself, “She went on the attack. She didn’t want to come back with us. It was like she turned bad or something.”

“Enough,” Tripp entered the control deck. He pointed at Tor and then at the communications panel. “You, over here.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jaycee pushed Tor against the chair in front of the console. “Let’s get to work.”

Tripp scratched behind his ear and evaluated his orders before speaking them. “Okay, call up Manuel. He said something about us not being on Opera Beta. At first I thought he was mad, but he might have been onto something.”

“How can we trust him?” Tor asked.

An instant pang of irony stretching across Tripp’s face, “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Look,” Tor thumped the console in a fit of despair. “I’m just as scared—”

“—Do not speak back to me, okay? I am your captain—”

“—No,” Tor screamed into Tripp’s face, determined to have his say. As soon as he realized that his wish was granted, he calmed down a touch and sat into the chair.

“I’m just as scared as you are. I don’t know what’s going on. If I stay here, I’m dead. If I go out there – wherever that place is – I’m dead. Run out of oxygen? Yeah, that could happen, or this hulking ignoramus will take my head off. In fact, even if we make it back home, I’ll be arrested, tried and sentenced to death. I’m a mathematician. I figure the odds of being alive for much longer are about six million to one.”

“The odds will be considerably worse if you don’t reboot Manuel and get him to function,” Tripp slapped Tor across the face and pointed at the console. “Do you understand what I’ve just said? Russian ?”

Wool and Jaycee looked at each other for a response. Their captain was about to lose his mind once and for all.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Tripp moved his face into Tor’s and stared him out. “One false move, and it’s all over. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Tor blurted, deeply upset. “I understand.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Tripp rubbed Tor’s hair like a child, and winked at Jaycee. “I was talking to him .”

Tor and Tripp looked at Jaycee’s glove. He teased the button once again, “Just give me the word, Captain. Any excuse to press this button.”

Tor cleared his throat and swallowed. He threw his arms forward and hit the live switch on the console. “In my country… I am considered a hero. In the vacuum of space I am considered a traitor. A scumbag.” He rose from his seat and snapped his fingers. “USARIC communications officer Tor Klyce, reboot autopilot four, five, seven—”

“—that’s not even his real name,” Jaycee whispered to Wool, trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t laugh so much as roll her eyes.

“—Manuel, do you read me?” Tor finished and snapped his fingers.

“Yes, I read you.”

WHVOOM .

Manuel’s holographic book image sprang to life in the middle of the room. He rifled through his pages and floated over to Tor, “Good whenever-it-is. How are you?”

“I’m well, Manuel.”

“No, I’m Manuel.”

“No, I said I am well , not I’m Manuel .”

“I beg your pardon?” Manuel shuffled back, slamming his front and back covers together, trying to work out the joke. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand—”

“—Never mind that,” Tripp stepped in and watched the book float around the room. “How are you feeling, Manuel?”

“Full of the joys of a typical Spring day, Tripp. Yourself?”

“Good. He recognizes us, at least.”

“Soul count returns a number I was not expecting,” Manuel said.

“How many souls aboard Opera Beta?” Tor asked. “We’re counting me, Tripp, Wool, and Jaycee. That should make four.”

“I am expecting eight. Haloo Ess, Captain Daryl Katz, Miss Anderson and the series two Androgyne unit.”

Tripp squinted at Manuel in confusion. “Eight? Do you know what happened to them?”

“I do not. I apologize,” Manuel ruffled his pages and emitted four beeps. “I am in full operational order. Quite without anomaly.”

“Without anomaly?” Jaycee shook his head and let out a chuckle of utter disdain. “You don’t know stuff-all about what’s happened to us.”

“Hey, leave him alone,” Tor said. “I don’t know how much data was flushed to his disk before we went through Enceladus. I need to run a test on him. Try to pinpoint the exact time he failed to recollect—”