Andrew Mackay - Pink Symphony

“He’s g-going to kill me,” Baldron sobbed and rubbed his arms.

Tripp averted his gaze over Jaycee’s shoulder, staring at the wall behind him “Not if that… thing … kills you first.”

“What thing ?” Jaycee turned around and nearly soiled his exo-suit pants. “Wha—” He elbowed Baldron toward Tripp and slung his K-SPARK gun at the wall. “What in God’s name is that that —?

An giant ball of pasty-white human flesh with several limbs clung to the wall like an absorbent slug. Balled-up like a spider, it retracted its limbs. It measured at least five feet wide and eight feet tall. The sheer enormity of the thing was devastating.

The mid-section of the beast heaved in and out, squirming as it slid down the wall. Two of its limbs reached the ground and thumped out, trying to orient itself as it crawled to the ground.

“Get back— My God,” Jaycee aimed his shotgun at it and teased the trigger. “What’s going on here?”

“Up there,” Wool whispered, afraid to alarm the creature as it flopped to the ground and squealed. “Look! The crack. It must have got in through there.”

She was right – a crack had formed where the ceiling met the wall.

Jaycee focused on the creature and aimed down his sight. “ Damn , that’s one ugly-looking lump of flesh.”

“Jaycee, no. Don’t shoot it—” Tripp quipped as the multi-limbed sack of flesh extended six of its twelve fleshy tentacle-cum-limbs across the ground. The central tumorous slit opened up and squealed in anger.

“ Night-night , sweetheart,” Jaycee spat.

BANG !

The bullet rocketed through the air and hit the creature. It exploded in all directions. Bits of pink-colored flesh and blood splattered the crew.

“Gaaoooww,” Baldron screamed as some of it went in his mouth.

The bullet blasted right through the creature and smashed into the wall, forcing a crack ten feet above them to break apart. Chunks of ceramic crashed around Baldron and Jaycee.

“Get out of here, now!”

“Baldron, let’s go,” Wool took his hand and made for the door. Tripp thumped Jaycee on the back, ready to accost him, when he caught a glimpse through the crack in the wall.

“Oh… no, no, run. Run, run, run!” Tripp’s soul nearly flew out of his mouth, as did Jaycee’s.

Several hundred feet in the sandy horizon thousands more of the same creatures scuttled toward the ship.

“This can’t be h-happening,” Jaycee stammered, unable to move. “Where are we?”

Tripp pushed him toward the door. “I dunno, but we’re not sticking around to find out—”

CRAAACCK !

N-Carcerate’s ceiling shunted apart like a pressurized ribcage, flooding the prison chamber with pink light. The iron bars on each cell punctured away from its housing and crashed to the floor, creating a series of obstacles on the path to the door.

“Tripp,” Wool shouted over the commotion, “Come on, we gotta get outta here!”

Tripp jumped over the fallen bar and pulled Jaycee with him. “God, you’re heavy.”

“It’s the exo-suit, man.”

“Yeah,” Tripp yanked him by his mammoth waist, “And it’s not water retention, it’s cake retention.”

“You calling me fat?” Jaycee took aim at the chasm in the wall. The creatures scurried forward, squealing for revenge.

“No, I’m calling you dead if you don’t get out of here,” Tripp hoisted himself over the debris and jumped toward the door. “Head for the control deck.”

“What?” Jaycee pushed through the door and into the walkway. “Why?”

“We need to get Tor before those things do.” Tripp slid the door shut mere nanoseconds before the first of scores of fleshy creatures slapped against the glass door, splattering its pink saliva up the glass window.

“What’s happening to us?” Baldron cried and shook his head. “What kind of perversion is this?”

Jaycee bopped him on the back of the head with the butt of his K-SPARK as they hurried toward the control deck. “Shut up, Russian.”

“It is a perversion of science,” Baldron sobbed. “Those things—”

“—Yeah, and those things are going to have their way with us if we don’t figure out what the hell is going on, here,” Tripp lifted his forearm and spoke into his skin ink. “Individimedia. Open channel, please.”

“You’re not giving Rabinovich the heads up, are you?” Jaycee asked.

“Huh?” Baldron shot Tripp a look of despair. How did they know Tor’s real identity?

Tripp didn’t look at the man. He was more determined to get the crew to the safety of the control deck. “Don’t act the numbnuts with us, numbnuts . We know who Tor is. Speaking of which, Tor, can you read me?”

“I read you, Tripp,” came his voice. “What’s the situation?”

“We have Baldron and we’re making our way to control right now. Something’s happening.”

“What?”

“A Tango got on the ship. It’s okay, we took care of it.”

“Took care of what? What Tango?”

“Hey,” Tripp screamed into his arm, “Don’t quiz me. Just do as I say.”

“Sorry.”

“We are ETA ninety seconds to the control deck. Is Manuel online and ready to go?”

“He’s online,” Tor said. “Whether or not he’s ready to go is another matter.”

“He’d better be, or I’ll have Jaycee remove your head. Do you understand what I have just said?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now get ready.”

“But, can I—”

“—Can you shut up and do as I say? Yes, good idea.” Tripp swiped the ink on his arm to his wrist, severing the communication. He quickened his walk to a sprint and moved ahead of Wool, Baldron, and Jaycee. “First N-Vigorate, then the cells. We’re not going to have much of a ship left if this continues.”

“Tripp?” Jaycee shouted from behind Baldron. “What about those monster things?”

Tripp’s temper neared to a close, “How the hell do I know, Jaycee? I know as much as you do.”

“Yeah, but, they could be anywhere.”

“They are anywhere. They’re outside. They’re all over the damn place,” Tripp rubbed Wool’s shoulder as he faced front and continued walking. “One thing’s for sure, at any rate. We know we’re not in space. This walkway is bound to subside just like every other part of the ship. Keep moving. As long as we’re moving we’re not sitting ducks.”

“What are we going to do when we get to control?” Wool asked. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Survive.”

Wool rolled her eyes. Fortunately, Tripp couldn’t see her reaction as he was ahead of her. If he’d have caught her flippant retort it might have proved to be the final straw.

Tripp was as angry as the others were frightened. He was the captain of Space Opera Beta. The human being in him was frightened, too. The captain in him, though, was a whole different person altogether. Nothing stood in his way.

“The plan right now is to survive …”

A trail of tiny paw prints nestled in the fine, white sand. Two on the left, two on the right, a few inches apart.

They belonged to Jelly.

For such a young cat she sure had a lot of energy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten or had a sip of water. She felt a rumbling sensation in her stomach, underscored by a similar occurrence in the pink sky.

Jelly paused, shifted her behind in the sand and tilted her head back. A permanent smile struck across her face as the glint of the nearest white blotch of white – a sort of cloud – reflected in her pupil.