Kyra and Von floated into the inner decompression chamber of the Dyad, only the sound of their respirators flowing within their illuminated ears with the gentle consistency of ocean lapping shore. Data flickered before Kyra’s sapphire iris as the Dyad’s blueprints shuffled room by room, Von in tow.
John and Rog watched the monitors from the bridge of Bravo. Kyra’s heart rate exploded. Rog smashed his comm., “Kyra? Is everything alright?”
John looked at Rog, their chests constricting with the suffocating sound of static.
“Kyra!”
“Hold on Rog,” she replied. Kyra looked at the data again. They were not alone.
John tapped Rog on the shoulder and pointed to the far right of the console. Where only two life forms should have been showing, there were four. “Holy Shiott. How the hellocks did we miss that?”
“It’s your ship,” said John.
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Snazzle, get them out of there right now,” barked Rog.
“I can’t.”
“Don’t give me can’t,” said Rog.
“Rog?”
“What!”
“I think you’ll want to see this,” said Snazzle, pulling up a visual on the main screen.
John’s dry cracked lips hung open. Rog shook his swimming head. “Oh my frailing Janus.”
Comments (0)
Post a Comment