Andrew Mackay - Infinity Claws

“My name is Captain Daryl Katz of USARIC’s Space Opera Beta. This is my crew.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” Zillah said, shaking hands with Katz. Her grip was vice-like, which surprised him. “We’re all so glad you came for us.”

“That concerns us, Zillah,” Katz said, looking around the airlock exterior. No significant damage had been done. “We didn’t receive a distress call.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Katz walked forward with the others. They poked around the immediate area, scanning for any signs of life or damage. “Our mission is to Enceladus. We are to decipher Saturn Cry, and we think we may have the answer.”

“Meow,” Jelly spotted Zillah and growled.

Zillah backed away and covered her chest with both arms. “You brought a feline up here?”

“Yes,” Bonnie said, “We made a discovery. The cat is responding to Saturn Cry—”

“—Get that… thing … off my ship.”

Jelly growled and launched out of Bonnie’s arms. She tried to grab the creature, but failed to respond in time.

Jelly’s feet hit the floor. She trundled toward Zillah, bushy-tailed, snarling and growling.

“I d-don’t like c-cats,” Zillah said, “I’m, uh, allergic.”

“It’s okay,” Katz giggled, “She won’t bite.”

Jelly sat on her hind legs straight and looked up at Zillah. “Meow.”

“What in God’s name is USARIC doing? Bringing a cat into space?”

Tripp approached Zillah and nodded toward the front of the ship. “We’d like to run a few diagnostic tests if possible. Get your crew out of hyper-sleep and have them embark Beta so we can get you all to safety.”

“Yes, of course,” Zillah said, “Perhaps we could start with a briefing in our crew hub?”

“Okay.”

Back on Opera Beta, Tor paced around the control deck, muttering. Wool found his behavior strange.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m figuring something out, wait a second,” he said, deep in contemplation. “Something isn’t right.”

“Why, what’s the problem?”

“Communications are still down. We’ve lost Androgyne. I think the autopilot might be interfering,” Tor looked up and snapped his fingers. “Manuel?”

The holographic book appeared in the middle of the room. “Hello, Tor. How can I assist you?”

“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but while Katz and the team are on Alpha, I need to know you’re not causing interference.”

“I understand.”

“Power-down Manuel two-point-two,” Tor said, watching Manuel slowly fade away. “Reconcile manual control.”

The control deck lit up, indicating that Tor was now in charge of Space Opera Beta.

“What are you doing?”

Tor made his way over to Wool. “Remember what happened to Baldron a few hours ago?”

“Yes. Traitor.”

“I’m afraid he wasn’t alone.”

He gripped the lever on the deck and yanked it back.

The bridge connecting the two ships began to roll back, separating the two vessels.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tor said, “I’m severing the bridge.”

“What?” Wool jumped to her feet and thought about preventing Tor from pulling the bridge back. “Why?”

“We have the message decoded and everyone’s on the other ship, just as planned. We have everything we need, now.”

“What? We ?”

“Yes.”

Tor punched Wool in the face, instantly knocking her out. She spun around and landed in his arms.

“Shh. Good girl,” he said, his accent changing from American to Russian instantly, “Let’s get you chained up where you belong.”

Tor dragged the unconscious Wool by her arms across the metal gantry. Baldron stood up from his prison bay and watched as his comrade lay her flat across the floor.

“You took your time,” Baldron said in a Russian accent, thumping on the thick glass. “I’m fed up with having to do that stupid Yank accent. Get me out of here.”

“Okay, yes. In a moment.”

“Did they board the Alpha?”

“All except this one, here. I took care of her.”

Tor hopped over to Baldron’s cell door and placed his glove against the transparent panel. “Come on, get out.”

The door slid open. “Cell four. Open,” announced a female voice.

“Comrade,” Baldron opened his arms and hugged Tor.

“We have what we need. Or, rather, we have what we don’t need.”

“Did you shut Manuel down?”

“Yes,” Tor said, looking Baldron up and down. “But your reckless antics nearly cost us the mission.”

“It is not my fault he switched cups. I am fortunate that I did not sip from it.”

“That stupid cat ruined everything,” Tor said, running over to Wool’s feet. “Here, assist me with this stupid American woman.”

“My pleasure.”

Baldrom slid his hands under Wool’s armpits. Tor took her ankles. They lifted her up and threw her into cell four.

“My word, she’s heavier than she looks.”

“Must be all those cheeseburgers they eat. Oh, who cares?” Tor smacked his palm against the plate. “Goodnight, princess.”

As the door slid to a close, the red light came to life above the frame. Wool was now a prisoner on her own ship.

“What now?” Baldron asked. “Is everyone else on board Alpha?”

“Imbecile. I told you already that they are,” Tor walked off, with Baldron following, “We send a message back to Dimitri Volkov that we have deciphered Saturn Cry. We tell them, also, that the crew of Space Opera Beta are dead when they tried to rescue Alpha.”

“Very good,” Baldron said, making quotation marks with his forefingers. “ Tor Klyce. Where did you come up with such a stupid pseudonym?”

“Oh! You are one to speak, Baldron Landaker . I could ask you the same question. Where did you come up with such a stupid name?”

Tor made his way out of N-Carcerate and adjusted his headset. “We keep using our aliases for the time being. I will send a message to Dimitri and inform them of the bad news, and that we are charting a course back to Earth.”

“What do I do?”

“I do not know,” Tor looked at Baldron and sighed. “Make yourself useful and go into hyper-sleep?”

Zillah walked the crew of Opera Beta into Alpha’s conference hub. “I have a couple of things to tell you. It’s not much, but it’s all that we know.”

Tripp, Katz, Bonnie, and Haloo took a seat around the table. Jaycee found it difficult to sit into the chair, given the sheer bulk of his armor. Zillah sniggered and watched him try to get comfortable.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Jaycee said, “Carrying quite a load, here.”

“So I see.”

Zillah turned to the rest of the crew. She circled her own face with her finger. “You may remove your visors, incidentally. It’s perfectly breathable here.”

Katz and his team looked at each other. One by one, they carefully removed their visors and took a deep breath.

“That’s right, every one. Get a good, deep lungful.”

And so, they did. Every one’s chest inflated and deflated, thoroughly absorbing the air.

Zillah rubbed her hands and called up a holographic image of Opera Alpha from the central conference deck.

“As you can see, Alpha took a considerable amount of damage. The centrifuge stopped rotating, causing a lift in gravity. Once the backup drives took effect, most of Alpha’s operations returned to normal.”

“So you were hit by something?” Tripp asked. “Debris? Meteorites?”