Andrew Mackay - Pink Symphony

“Meeooo…” she squealed at the top of her croaking voice, struggling to get the sound out. She meowed again. This time in much lower pitch.

“Where… where did you go?”

“Boh… Boh…” Jelly rolled onto her back and clawed at her tail. “Boh… knee…”

“You just said my name!”

Bonnie flipped around and dug her shoulders into the ground. Enthralled by what she’d witnessed, she lifted her forearm in front of her face. Her thumb scraped the three links of black ink across her synthetic skin, “Individimedia, access. Dr. Bonnie Whitaker, broadcast enable.”

The ink formed three individual dots. They flashed on and off, indicating a successful connection, “This is Bonnie. I repeat, this is Bonnie Whitaker. Does anyone read me?”

She kept her eyes on Jelly, who clawed at her own tail in the throes of turmoil.

“Bonnie?” Tripp’s tinny voice flew out of the pinpricks in her wrist, “We read you. Where are you?”

“Botanix. Anderson’s with me. Come, quickly.”

“Is she? What’s she doing?”

“Behaving strangely. Something happened to us, to her. Where are you?”

“We’re in control right now. Something happened here, too. We lost power, briefly, but we’re back on.”

“I’m scared, Tripp,” Bonnie looked around at the shattered walls. Behind her stood the door to Botanix. Directly opposite, the infinite landscape of Pink Symphony. “That pink beach thing is still here. I was attacked. I’ve lost my leg—”

“—Okay, okay, calm down. Just stay there. I’ll be right over with Wool.”

“Please be quick,” Bonnie lowered her arm and relaxed her shoulders.

“Make sure Anderson doesn’t run off out there—”

“—But, I can’t move.”

Tripp waved Wool over to the door of the control deck, “We’re on our way. Do you have your firearm on you?”

“Yes,” Bonnie’s voice came through Tripp’s forearm, “Just my Rez.”

An ethical quandary appeared in his mind as he reached the door, “Listen, Bonnie.”

“What is it?”

“If you have to…” Tripp ducked his head and thought very carefully about his instruction.

“If I have to what ?”

“Damn it.”

Wool knew what was going on, “Oh, Tripp. No. Don’t you dare .”

“We have no choice,” Tripp lifted his arm to mouth, “Use the gun on Anderson if she doesn’t comply.”

“What?” Bonnie screamed back.

Jaycee, Baldron and Tor threw their captain a befuddled look. “What?”

“I’m not playing around, here,” Tripp finished. “If she tries to run off, shoot her.”

“Tripp, you can’t do that—” Wool tried.

“—I don’t trust her, not after what happened a few minutes ago. Come on, we have to get to Botanix.”

The duo walked through the door, leaving Jaycee, and his two Russian captives alone in the control deck.

Tor turned to Jaycee for a reaction.

“What are you looking at?” he bopped the man on the back of the head, “Get busy, numbskull. We know where everyone is. We need to know the state of Opera Beta.”

“Right, right,” Tor snapped his fingers and prayed Manuel would appear, “Manuel?”

The holographic book appeared in front of them, spinning its covers around, eager to assist, “Greetings, good people.”

“I want a full report on the ship’s system.”

“Certainly.”

Tor followed Manuel across the room. The book inspected the flight deck.

“Also, run coordinates on our current location.”

“As I have relayed twice , now, the coordinates are irrelevant. Please excuse me while I run a scan on Beta’s functionality.”

The holographic book beeped over and over again.

Baldron dared not look Jaycee in the eye. He kept his focus on his boots hoping he wouldn’t get thumped.

“Hey, you. Landaker.”

Baldron tensed his shoulders and flinched, “Don’t hit me.”

“I’m not gonna hit you,” Jaycee sniggered. “Just wanted to know how you were feeling right now?”

“I’m scared.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

Jaycee intimidated him by slammed the K-SPARK barrel in his open palm. Baldron jumped in his shoes, the weight of his Decapidisc reminding him of his situation. “ Jeez . I think I’m going to have a coronary.”

“We can only hope,’ Jaycee grinned. “Hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m scared too, you know,” Jaycee whispered in his ear, “I know I don’t look it, but I am. Do you know what happens when I get scared?”

“N-No, what?” Baldron bit his lip as his oppressor got a little too close for comfort.

“I get fidgety, you know. Dunno what to do with myself. I start hitting things. Me and my temper.”

“Oh, G-God,” Baldron whimpered and scrunched his face. “Please d-don’t—”

“—you ever seen what a K-SPARK shell does to the human body?”

“N-No.”

“Total and utter evisceration.”

Biddip-beep . Manuel snapped out of his scan. “Aha. Report complete.”

Baldron breathed a sigh of relief as Jaycee turned to the holographic book, “Is he on?”

“Seems to be,” Tor said. “Manuel?”

“Yes, Tor?”

“Report, please?”

“Certainly.”

Manuel darted over to the middle of the room and bent its pages out wide. A vector image of Space Opera Beta projected from its spine and into the middle of the deck.

“Thruster damage in Engine and Payload, Level Ten. Two of twenty modules at more than seventy-five percent damage.”

Tor walked around the map of Beta and placed his fingertip on the thruster area at the fat end of the ship, “Ports Y118, and Z409?”

“Indeed.”

“Perfect, that’s precisely what I wanted you to say,” Tor looked at Baldron. “That’s one for you, my friend.”

“Wanted him to say?” Jaycee asked, quizzically.

Tor held out his hand and corrected himself at speed, “I mean, it’s what I was expecting. Two ports down. In other words, Manuel is spot on.”

“What’s the damage, Manuel?” Baldron felt entitled to join the analysis – and away from Jaycee for a moment or two.

The twenty cylinders enlarged into view and spun around slowly, outlining the affected area.

“The affected cylinders disengaged, either during the explosion or the trip through Enceladus. I don’t know which, but both need re-connecting.”

“Understood,” Baldron turned to Tor, who winked at him in secrecy.

“Is that something you can fix?” Jaycee asked. “I hope so, otherwise you’re of no use to man nor beast.”

Baldron didn’t know where to look, “Yes, yes. I can fix it, provided—”

“—With an emphasis on the word beast ,” Jaycee joked.

“Provided the location is unaffected by whatever that stuff is out there, it’s a one man job with Tor guiding us.”

“How long will it take, chump?”

“Thirty minutes, maybe less.”

“Okay, amaziant ,” Jaycee booted Baldron in the back. He stumbled forward and crashing against the control deck.

“Jaycee? Seriously?” Tor took pity on his friend, “That was uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jaycee applauded Baldron as he struggled to his feet in serious anguish, “Look at you, withstanding all this pain!”

“Stop hitting me.”

“No!”

“Hey, less of it,” Tor held the warring men apart, “Jaycee, please. The last thing you need is an injured man carrying a nuclear device. We’re trying to work on getting back home. Baldron is our engineer and he’s no use to us if he can’t do his job.”

Jaycee grabbed Tor’s wrist and threw his arm away, “Don’t talk to me like you’re one of the good guys, you egotistical little turd. Don’t come on like you’re a hero in all this.”