Andrew Mackay: Pink Symphony

“Okay, okay,” Tripp released Jelly onto the chair and made for the door. “We need to find our friends and make sure they’re okay. Okay?”

“Meow,” Jelly seemed to agree.

Tripp snapped his fingers over his shoulder as he reached the panel on the wall. “Manuel?”

“Yes, Tripp?”

“Do whatever you can to get the comms back on, please.”

“I’ll try my best, Commander.”

“Commander?” Tripp stopped and let out a sarcastic sigh. “I’m the captain , Manuel. After Katz perished with Alpha.”

“Oh,” Manuel floated back, apologetically, “Is Captain Katz no longer with us?”

“Are you serious right now?” Tripp remembered everything. He couldn’t believe Manuel wasn’t able to. A quick, informal diagnostic was required. “Manuel? Don’t mess around, tell me you remember.”

“I’m sorry, Tripp. I do remember now—”

“—I don’t believe you. Don’t take this the wrong way, Manuel, but I want only quantitative responses. I need reassurance that you’re fit and operational. Now, tell me about Enceladus.”

Tripp suspected Manuel was buying himself some sympathy – or at least some time. “I can assure you that this isn’t necessary, Captain .”

“Are you disobeying a direct order?” Tripp asked, close to throttling the transparent image hovering in front of him. “Answer me.”

“No, Captain.”

“Okay. I won’t ask again,” Tripp said. “Tell me about Enceladus.”

Manuel flipped through his pages and arrived at a picture of an oblong pastry with a meat and vegetable filling. The image fizzed and shifted around.

“It is a tortilla that covers a range of meats and vegetables, often containing a hot—”

“—What?”

“—Chili Sauce.”

“That’s enchiladas , you moron,”

“Meow” Jelly added.

“Oh,” Manuel busied himself by flipping through his pages. One by one, they revealed a blank slate. Several appeared torn and incomplete.

“Manuel, I’m sorry. You’ve taken a lot of damage. You need recalibrating.”

“I feel I am able to autopilot,” Manuel explained. “I can run a check on—”

“—No, you’ve demonstrated that you’re unable ,” Tripp butted in, “I want you to shut down. Just temporarily until I do a sit-rep.”

“But, Tripp—”

“—Don’t take it personally, Manuel,” Tripp beckoned Jelly over to the door with him. “Go offline. Just for an hour or so. We can’t afford to have you confuse H 2O with waste water.”

“I’m not stupid, Tripp,” Manuel slammed his covers together in a strop.

“I’m afraid for the moment you are. Please power down. I promise I’ll wake you up when I figure out what’s going on.”

“ Fine .” Manuel blurted. He vanished from the room completely, leaving a befuddled Tripp to stare at Jelly for a reaction.

“Crazy, huh?”

“Meow.”

“Out of all of us, Manuel should know better. If he’s not fully operational then he should be shut down until we can fix him.”

Jelly ducked her head and retracted her claws.

“Come on, girl,” Tripp held his palm to the wall panel, “Let’s go check on the others.”

The door slid open, allowing the pair out of the control deck.

Something felt off to Tripp as he walked across Beta’s level one corridor.

The entire ship felt like it had powered down. The subtle rumblings and vibrations that he’d become accustomed to for nearly two years weren’t present.

For the first time since they’d left Earth he could hear his own footsteps clanged against the metal grille. Jelly turned a corner just behind him, anxious to find out what had happened to her humans .

“Let’s head to Medix and find your mommy,” Tripp held his forearm to his mouth. “This is Captain Healy. Does anyone read me?”

Nobody responded. The radio device on his arm seemed flatter than normal. No static or any sign of life.

“I repeat, this is Captain Healy transmitting on Individimedia. The radio and internal comms are down,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “Can anyone read me?”

If Tripp felt alone during the course of their mission, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling right now. All he had was a confused autopilot and a cat for company. With the comms down, the universe felt smaller than ever.

Tripp squinted at the door to Medix thirty feet ahead of him.

“I don’t like this.”

Clunk .

The sound of a shifting metal object thundered along the corridor from the far end. Another turn in the corridor.

A faint sniffing followed the unusual noise.

“What’s that?” Tripp whispered to Jelly. She pricked up her ears and moved in front of Tripp, investigating the source of the sound.

“No, no,” Tripp whispered at Jelly and shifted her across with his boot. “Stay there.”

“Meow.”

“Who’s there?” Tripp reached for his Rez-9 firearm on his belt.

The sniffing stopped, as did all sign of life from the turn in the corridor. Tripp unhooked his gun and pointed it forward. “I said who’s there?”

“Meow,” Jelly seconded Tripp’s question.

“Stay back, girl. We don’t know what’s—”

A silhouetted figure moved in front of the screen door to Medix. A familiar profile outline – tall, voluptuous, and with shoulder-length hair.

“Who are you?” Tripp asked.

The figure lowered her head to her opened hands and sobbed. Her voice sounded familiar, although she hadn’t actually spoken.

“Bonnie?”

The figure lowered her arms, revealing the outline of a firearm in her right hand.

“What’s h-happening to me?” The figure asked herself through her tears.

“Hey,” Tripp shouted down the corridor, “What are you doing?”

His hollering caught the woman’s attention. The figure turned forty-five degrees and held her Rez-9 firearm at Tripp. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Tripp squinted, trying to figure out who – or what – was standing in front of him.

“Bonnie? Is that you?”

Jelly hissed, shaken by the figure’s presence.

The figure stepped toward Tripp, keeping her gun pointed at him. She entered a shaft of light from one of the bulbs on the ceiling.

It was her – a confused, upset, and pink-splattered Bonnie Whitaker. “Who are you?”

“It’s me . Tripp Healy.”

“Who?” Bonnie pushed her gun forward, threatening to blow his head off. “How do you know my name?”

“What?”

“I said how do you know my name?” Bonnie squealed through her tears. “You don’t know me .”

“You’re… one of us.”

Bonnie kept her gun aimed at Tripp’s face. “Don’t come any closer.”

Tripp offered his surrender and held out his arms. “Okay.”

“You tell me where I am and how I got here.”

“We don’t know, Bonnie. We went through some sort of wormhole on Enceladus. We don’t know where we are—”

She blasted a warning shot at Tripp. The charge streaked past his shoulder and blew a hole in the side of the wall.

“Jeez,” Tripp held his hands up in surrender, “What the hell—”

“—I swear to God I will kill you. Let me out of here.”

“Let you out of here? What are you talking about?”

Bonnie screamed again, close to rupturing her vocal chords, “Where am I?”

“Wait, wait,” Tripp tried. “What do you remember? Did you just wake up?”

The question resonated with Bonnie’s desire for answers. Tripp could see the tactic worked when she tilted her head at Jelly.

“Yes, I did.”