Andrew Mackay: Pink Symphony

“Yes.”

“Now, we find ourselves at a bit of an impasse. None of us know how to fix Manuel. But you do.”

Tor finally lifted his head – his face solemn and remorseful – he knew what was about to be asked of him. “Ask me.”

“Am I going to regret this?” Tripp nodded at Jaycee and his fabulous white button of death.

“No, ask me.”

“We don’t know where we are. We went through Enceladus, thanks to Jelly. We don’t know Beta’s current state. We don’t know how much oxygen we have. We don’t know if anything works, apart from the back-up generator that’s giving us power and light. But we don’t know how much longer that will last. We don’t know where we are. We take a look outside and see nothing. We look at any of the screens, and all we see is black. We could be anywhere . In fact, we probably are anywhere and, as Beta’s captain, anywhere just isn’t good enough.”

“How is Manuel?” Tor asked.

“ Not well is probably quite apt given the circumstances. He’s talking crap and can’t be trusted and needs professional help,’ Tripp thought of a perfect put-down mid-sentence, “which is why I thought of you to help us.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you lose your head, and all of us will probably die out here. Alone. Undiscovered. It would have all been for nothing.”

“I need some sort of guarantee,” Tor looked at Baldron laying across the bench.

“Guarantee?” Tripp asked. “What, that Jaycee won’t push the button?”

“That, and you promise not to kill me or my comrade after we do what you need me to do.”

Tripp clenched his fists, taking Tor’s sincerity literally. “We’re not killers. Unlike you and your boyfriend. I’ll rip your damn head off with my own hands. Forget the Decapidisc.”

“Aww,” Jaycee played up to Tripp’s taunting of their captive. “Tch.”

“P-Please, don’t hurt me.”

Tripp squared up to Tor and stared him out. “Is that what you told my captain before you blew the connecting bridge between Alpha and Beta?”

“I’m sorry! It was nothing personal, I was only following ord—”

“—Sorry? You’re sorry?” Tripp screamed in the man’s face, blowing the hair on his head back a few millimeters. “How about Haloo, eh? Try telling her you’re sorry. She’s not even around anymore to argue with you!”

Tor burst into tears as Tripp closed his eyes and calmed down. The tips of their noses practically touched.

Jaycee found the argument between the two men somewhat comical. “Are you two going to kiss?”

“Shut up,” Tripp spat and lifted Tor’s crying face up by his chin. “So, what’s it to be, Tor? Instant death? Or a sliver of a possibility that you, and all of us, survive?”

Tor took a deep breath and glanced at Jaycee taunting him with the white button on his glove. Jelly’s sneering didn’t help matters much, either.

The decision was inevitable.

Handax Skill unfolded a piece of black cloth and held it at arm’s length. Two eye holes stretched out across the soft material. “Perfect.”

He looked around the hideout, refusing to let the grim interior warehouse walls get to him. The People Against Animal Cruelty placards lined most of the right-hand wall. It filled him with vigor.

Leif, a petite woman in her twenties, approached the central table. She unclipped her thumbnail on her right hand and set it onto the central table. “Two hours to show time.”

“Display Individimedia. Put it on Dreenagh Remix’s channel.”

“That blood-hungry piece of crap in heels?” Leif chuckled as she swiped the ink on her forearm.

Handax ran his fingers through his bright blue hair, contemplating the plan they were about to carry out. He saw his team having second thoughts about the forthcoming event. “Yeah, let’s see how she’s spun the story.”

Dreenagh’s name appeared on Leif’s arm. Seconds later, the thumbnail threw a giant holographic live feed above the table.

An empty podium outside USARIC headquarters with dozens microphones waiting to be utilized.

“We’re on.”

“Guys, come and take a look at this,” Handax turned to the two men.

One of them stared down the barrel of a long-range rifle.

“Denny, man,” Handax said. “Pay attention.”

“Yeah,” Denny stood up and walked over to the table. “What’s good?”

“Pay attention.”

Dreenagh commentated off-camera on the non-event. “As you can see, USARIC is preparing to make an official statement of affairs. In a couple of hours from now we’re expecting USARIC’s Deputy CEO, Dimitri Vasilov, to respond to allegations of sabotage.”

“Just shut up and get to the good stuff,” Handax muttered as he paced around the bench. “Look at her, spinning the story. I bet she doesn’t even mention the twenty-three Russian delegates who were forced out of—”

“—Tensions are high after the expulsion of twenty-three Russian delegates from the United States shortly after the last communication of Space Opera Beta. An allegation from the captain of the ship suggests that the mission had been deliberately sabotaged by Russians. Stay with me for USARIC’s official reaction.”

Leif ducked her head and sighed. “She’s just killing time, now.”

“Put her on mute,” Handax said. “I can’t stand her voice.”

Leif held out her pinkie and index finger and threw her hand through the image, cutting off the volume. “There, that’s better.”

Denny placed his rifle on the table. “So, we’re still on?”

“Of course we’re still on.” Handax turned to the fourth member of the crew. “Moses?”

The man looked up from his lap, halting his work on a opened drone. “Yeah, we’re still on.”

“Gather round the table, we don’t have much time.”

Moses placed the drone on the seat of his chair and joined the trip. “Do I get a mask, too?”

“Everyone gets one.”

Handax threw a balaclava each to Leif, Moses, and Denny. “Make sure you wear them the right way round.”

Denny chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, thanks.”

Handax pressed his thumb to his forearm, enabling a rotating vector image of the USARIC’s complex to appear above the table.

The west side of the building flashed drawing their attention to the main entrance. A vast complex stood north-west – an area of interest to all concerned.

“The compound,” Handax said. “Leif and I will be on point to infiltrate thirty seconds before Denny takes the shot.”

“Yeah. What if he misses, though?” Leif asked.

Denny picked up the rifle and looked down the sight. “With firepower like this? I never miss.”

“Don’t point that thing at me,” Leif pushed the end of the barrel away from her.

“Don’t worry. It’s not charged, yet.”

“I don’t care. Just don’t point it at me.”

Handax cleared his throat. “Denny?”

“What?”

“Behave.”

“My bad.”

“My bad ?” Handax quipped. “What is this, twenty-twenty-five? Have you been watching those old movies again?”

“Sorry.”

“Just concentrate, for heaven’s sake,” Handax continued. “We need everyone on point. We’re about to make history.”

Moses slipped on his balaclava and punched his fists together. Somehow, with this spurious mask, his near seven-foot frame seemed all the more threatening. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“No, they must know what hit them. That’s the whole idea,” Leif reached into her belt and retrieved her handgun, “We better load up if we’re going to hit our markers.”