Andrew Mackay - Infinity Claws

“Oh, you poor thing,” Wool said, inspecting the tip of her tail. “You must be in so much pain.”

“What’s wrong, Wool?” Tripp asked. “Her tail?”

“Look.”

She inspected Jelly’s tail. The end was bleeding. A lot of the fur was missing. “I think the bone is fractured.”

“She’s bleeding from the eye, as well,” Tripp said, his eyelids beginning to lower. Jaycee had fallen asleep like a huge, revolving boulder in the corridor. “I, I… need to get back to control and update USARIC.”

“I’ll take Jelly back to Medix and make sure she’s okay.”

“Very good,” Tripp said, kicking himself toward the door.

Tripp pulled himself into the room and snapped his fingers in the air. “Manuel…” he gasped, breathlessly, “Do you read me?”

The holographic book appeared above the flight deck. “Yes, Tripp. May I ask what happened?”

“Tor Klyce disabled you just before we boarded Alpha.”

“Why did he do that?”

“He’s working for the Russians. He and Baldron Landaker. The latter is now deceased.”

“Am I to understand that Captain Katz and Haloo Ess are also no longer with us?”

“Yes,” Tripp said, smearing the blood from his face and sitting into the flight chair. “I need you to generate a report on Botanix’s current operational output.”

“Yes, give me a moment.”

Manuel “paused’ in mid-air. Tripp hit a button on the terminal.

The screen sprang to life, showing Tripp’s bloodied, worn out face on the recording in real time.

“I look like hell,” he whispered to himself. “Commence recording. USARIC, Cape Claudius. Date imprint, run-time display. Second-in-command, Commander Tripp Healy. Record.”

A red record button flashed in the corner of the screen. Tripp looked at the screen and took a moment to run through what he wanted to say.

“This is Tripp Healy, assumed captain of Space Opera Beta. We have lost her captain, Daryl Katz….”

Saturn’s rings revolved at speed around the planet. The blue surface glowed and breathed in and out.

“Shortly before boarding Space Opera Alpha, we deciphered enough of Saturn Cry to ascertain that it was, indeed, sending a distress call. Baldron Landaker and Tor Klyce are in incarceration. Dimitri Vasilov, I hope you can hear this. Maar, I hope you’re with him. This has been a deliberate sabotage of our mission. I hope USARIC finds the powers it has to rectify the situation.”

A pink gas tore out from the dark side of Enceladus and blossomed out.

“Haloo Ess confirmed deceased at time of recording. Can confirm that Zillah Chin-Dunne was on board Opera Alpha, although her crew were dead. She speculated that something to do with Saturn was about to happen. I can’t recall her exact phrase, but it was going to be something spectacular .”

The pink tear on Enceladus’s dark side glowed and shimmer, bleaching out across the darkness.

“Alpha was destroyed. Most of us made it back, but we seem to have contracted some sort of virus. The same extends to J Anderson, as well. Botanix has been compromised. I am waiting on Manuel to report back on the severity of the damage. I do not expect it to be positive.”

A holy pink light burst from the dark side of Enceladus. Saturn’s rings sped up, as if it were responsible for the moon’s cry into the infinite vacuum of space.

It caught Tripp’s waning attention. He looked over at the deck and saw the light show in all its magnificence.

“Oh m-my,” he stammered, “Look at it. It’s beautiful …”

The recording continued, showing half of Tripp’s head on screen. It didn’t reveal just how in awe he was of what he saw.

Manuel’s holograph appeared above the screen. “I have the results from Botanix, Tripp.”

“Wait a moment, Manuel,” Tripp kept his awe-struck gaze on the light show occurring in space. He turned the screen to face the pink matter wading out of Enceladus.

“Can you see that on the screen?” Tripp’s voice came over the recording. “Enceladus. Saturn’s sixth largest planet. We always knew something was happening. We’re hearing it’s a wormhole. We think Alpha may have been through it.”

Tripp blinked and shook himself out of his mire. He angled the screen back to him as he returned to his chair. “Report, please, Manuel.”

“Botanix is at critical levels of operation. Eight-five percent damage.”

Tripp sighed, no longer wanting to fight to stay awake. “I feel like I’m burning up.”

“I can attempt a shut-off and rejuvenate on Botanix’s core functionality, if you would like?” Manuel offered.

“Just tell me how much air we have left, Manuel,” Tripp said, burying his face into his arms on the desk.

“Approximately seventy-two hours, Tripp.”

He lifted his head to the screen, bleeding from the eyes. “Three days? That’s it, I’m afraid. No one will survive. We’ll be long dead before you send Opera Charlie, if you ever do,” Tripp nodded at Enceladus’s pink beauty. “Anyway, there’s your answer, USARIC. Saturn and Enceladus partying up. Something called Pink Symphony. Whatever that means. This is captain Tripp Healy… signing off…”

Tripp slumped into his arms.

Manuel floated around, flapping his pages. “Hmm. Stop recording, please.”

The recording stopped.

“Transmit visual message to USARIC.”

The screen produced a loading bar, advising a send-time of five minutes.

Wool strapped a piece of gauze around the end of Jelly’s tail. She clipped the end off with a razor and pressed the ends together.

“You’re very lucky, Jelly. Your injury could have been much worse.” Wool coughed into her palm and stroked Jelly with her free hand. “I don’t know if you know what’s going on. How could you possibly know? Manuel says Botanix has enough oxygen for three days, sweetie. We’re going to die up here. There’s no way out.”

“Meow,” Jelly sniffed around her face and seemed to smile at the woman.

“You initiated zero gravity,” Wool said. “How did you do—”

“Zeeeh… rooooow… graaaaa…” Jelly tried.

“Something happened to the crew, Jelly. To you, too. Look,” Wool wiped the top of her own cheek. A streak of pink blood nestled across her knuckle. “I don’t understand why I’m sick. I never boarded Alpha. Whatever it is, they must have brought it back with them.”

Wool cleared her throat and took a black capsule from her inner-suit pants.

“Take this. It’ll make everything okay.”

She pushed the capsule toward Jelly’s mouth, but the cat refused to take it in her mouth. “N-No…”

“Come on, Jelly,” Wool said, hesitantly, “It will help. You trust me, don’t you?”

Jelly tilted her head and looked at Wool. She ran her face along the side of Wool’s hand.

“Look, it’s okay, sweetie,” Wool produced a black capsule and mimed opening her own mouth. “I’m taking one, too. We’ll both go to sleep and there won’t be any pain, I promise.”

It was enough to convince Jelly. She opened her mouth with great obedience and allowed her friend to drop the cyanide capsule in.

“Good girl,” Wool smiled and ran her hands down the sides of Jelly’s face.

Little did she know that Jelly flicked Wool’s capsule off the table with her hind leg.

“Look at you, you beautiful thing,” she said, nearly bursting into tears. “You don’t belong up here. You never did. USARIC made a mistake involving you.”

Jelly purred, enjoying the rub-down she was receiving. She ran her face along Wool’s cheek.

“I love you too, Jelly,” Wool kept the cat’s head in her hands. “Any moment now, sweetie. We’ll both be at peace.”