Andrew Mackay - Infinity Claws

“Good, good. Let’s get them up and ready, Zillah,” Katz said.

She turned around one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees to face Katz and his crew. She lifted Jelly to her face and listened to her purr.

“I cannot do that, Captain Katz.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because,” Zillah closed her eyes, “They’re all dead.”

One by one, the fronts of each pod clanged open, revealing a gray, rotten corpse.

Jaycee squeezed his machine gun in his hands, surveying the array of dead bodies. His trigger finger itched up a storm. “My God…”

Zillah rubbed her face against Jelly’s belly.

Bonnie held back the others and stepped forward. “Zillah?”

“Mmm,” she moaned, clutching Jelly’s body. “You came here looking for answers, didn’t you?”

“Zillah?” Bonnie said, carefully. “Give me Jelly.”

“Meow,” Jelly stretched her paws out and fanned out her claws. The metal connected with Zillah’s face and tore at her lips.

“Let me show you something incredible.” Zillah lifted her head and opened her mouth.

Her top lip crept up along her gums and folded up over her nose. Her bottom lip slung down over her bottom row of teeth and slid under her chin.

The crew watched, aghast, as Zillah’s body lifted five inches into the air.

And then, a familiar “cry’ emitted from her chest and out through her mouth.

Hisss … followed by an electrical guitar sound.

And then, twelve seconds in… a familiar whump . Jelly shrieked and launched out of Zillah’s arms.

“M-My God…” Tripp said, watching the bizarre, demonic light show.

“Yes, I am,” Zillah’s voice crept in along the hiss, a bizarre fusion of static and growl, “Pink… Symphony…”

Twenty seconds into the hiss. Another whump barreled through the hyper-sleep chamber.

Zillah’s skin slurped from her head and melted down her suit.

“She’s already dead?” Tripp gasped. “Look at her!”

“She’s being used as a transmitter,” Bonnie stepped back and scooped the petrified cat from the floor. “We gotta get out of here.”

“You… cannot… leave…” Zillah’s body convulsed and flipped inside out, blasting fragments of her skin suit in all directions. “Pink Symphony.”

“Everyone out,” Katz turned around and made for the door. “Now.”

Zillah’s body jigsawed in-and-out and expanded with the chamber, bursting the screen doors of the each sleeping vessel. “Gaahhh!”

“Get out of here, now!” Bonnie chased along with the others toward the airlock.

“Tor,” Katz pressed his finger to his ear, “Tor, this is Katz, do you read me?”

“Yes, Captain. This is Tor, you’re coming through loud and clear.”

“We’re coming back. Zillah and Alpha team are deceased. We are in severe danger.”

“Ah. That’s a negative, good buddy,” Tor threatened over the connection. “Sorry to report that the bridge has been retracted and you’re on your own. Over.”

Katz looked confused. The reality of their predicament sunk in. He had to make sure he’d heard his comms officer correctly. “What? Sorry, Tor, can you repeat?”

“Did he just say what I think he said?” Bonnie asked, angrily, as they reached the inner airlock door.

The connection died off. Tor was no longer available.

“My God, My God,” Haloo began to freak out, “We’re going to die. We’re all going to die.”

“No, Haloo,” Tripp said, taking her shoulders and staring her in the face. “It’s okay, there’s been a miscommunication. Breathe.”

“I am b-breathing,” Haloo spluttered, a clump of snot pushed through her right nostril. She wiped her face and looked up at Tripp. “Please, d-don’t let us die.”

The interior of the ship rumbled louder and louder.

“I d-don’t know what’s g-going on, b-but I want to go home.”

“I know, I—” Tripp tried to calm her down but, instead, noticed a thick, pink teardrop rolling down her cheek. “Haloo?”

“Wh-what?”

“Your eye is bleeding.”

Katz triggered his headset over and over, but got no reply. “No, it’s no good. We’re cut off.”

“What about Androgyne?” Jaycee asked, keeping an eye out for Zillah. “We can’t leave her here.”

“We have no choice,” Katz said, “She’s replaceable. Us humans aren’t. Let’s get back to Opera Beta and get away from whatever this thing is.”

Katz snapped on his glove and slammed his palm against the panel airlock. He expected it to open.

It didn’t.

“C’mon, open up,” Katz patted the panel over and over again with his glove. “It’s not opening.”

Androgyne sat next to her dead counterpart and felt a trickle of something race down her synthetic cheek.

It wasn’t blood, though. Instead, it was transparent and clear, like a bead of sweat.

She’d gotten over the worst of her turmoil, resigning herself the fact she’d never be rescued. She didn’t know where the Beta crew were. All she knew was that she was a captive aboard the Opera Alpha, and in serious peril.

She hit the intercom switch on the communication deck in a desperate bid to contact Alpha Beta.

“This is Androgyne, does anyone read me?”

To her surprise, the static kicked up and produced a familiar voice.

“This is Space Opera Beta, communications officer Tor Klyce.”

Androgyne felt a new emotion race through her body. She gasped for dear life and threw her body forward in haste.

“Tor, this is Androgyne. I am trapped on Opera Alpha. Something weird is happening.”

“Yes, I know you are trapped, Androgyne. How are you?”

“I’m scared and I can’t get out. Please help me. Where are the others?

“They’re on board Alpha with you.”

“Oh, thank God,” she started crying floods of tears and watch them flood onto her glove. “There’s water coming out of my eyes.”

“Yes, it’s called crying,” Tor’s voice seemed reassuring. “You’re scared, it’s perfectly natural.”

“I can’t get through to them. Can you advise them that I am trapped? It’s Zillah, she’s not a good person. She put me here.”

“You don’t remember the conversation we had ten minutes ago, do you?” Tor asked, “Unfortunately I am unable to help you, Androgyne.”

“What? Why? Can you not establish contact with them?”

“No,” he said, calmly, “It’s because I don’t want to.”

“What?” Androgyne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What do you mean you don’t want to?”

“Because I want you and the Beta crew to perish with Zillah. And you’re going to assist me.”

The reality of her situation finally hit home. The communication device slipped through her fingers.

“Androgyne, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she muttered, knowing she was about to die.

“On your forearm is a synthetic panel,” he said, “Do you see it?”

She looked at her left forearm and closed her eyes.

“Yes, I see it.”

“Good. Unclip the housing and lift the cover up.”

She did as instructed. Two red buttons appeared next to a digital readout. “I’ve done it.”

“Can you see two red buttons?”

“Yes,” she sniffed and cleared her throat.

“You’re equipped with a self-destruct button. Inside where your womb would be, if you were human, is a quarter tonne of C4. You will press the two buttons together with your free hand and keep it held down for five seconds, enabling a two-minute self-destruct scenario.”

“No, no,” she shook her head and tried to fight off her superior’s instruction. “No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Don’t disobey a direct order. It’s for your own good. You want to destroy Zillah, don’t you?”