Chapter Nine

The three-days-wait had finally come to an end, and Proto Zoa found himself steering a pod to Space Station 015741, with Zenon and Dasha in the back passenger seats. Most of the other pods they encountered were headed in the opposite direction, and the drivers and passengers gave them strange looks. These pods were few and far between, however, leaving Zoa, Zenon, and Dasha mostly alone in a pod on their way to the space station for a meeting which could make or break almost everything.

Zoa maneuvered the pod into the loading dock and parked. One other pod was parked there: Numbar's. Zenon spotted Margie and General Hammond farther up in the loading dock, and she saw Numbar leaning against his pod, tapping his foot impatiently.

Zoa turned to face the cousins. "Stay here until I get him out of here, and then you can find the bomb and get rid of it. Be fast, but be careful," he said. "You can do this."

Zenon and Dasha nodded, and Zoa hopped out of the pod and walked over to where Numbar stood. "You're late," Numbar said.

"I'm never late. You're just early," Zoa replied.

"Excuse me?"

"Remember, you're on my schedule. I arrive somewhere whenever I choose to arrive there, and if I have to drive this point home with you, then I'll end up wasting my time, and my time is not to be wasted."

"So you're perfectly happy with wasting mine?"

"Excuse me. I'm the one you want performing on Mars for your colony project's opening day. You do still want me there, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Now, I don't like talking business in a loading dock. The attatched corridor, maybe, but not a loading dock. We'll talk about this show somewhere else."

"Okay, look-"

"We'll talk about it somewhere else."

"Oh, no, we're not."

"What's the matter? Afraid of taking orders from an ultra-fabulous rock star?"

Numbar lowered his head so that he could look up at Zoa through his eyelashes. "No. I just have important business to take care of, and I'm not willing to leave it for something else."

"Did you not hear me? I am an ultra-fabulous rock star. The only time I ever heard of you was seven years ago when you wanted to colonize the moon. Now listen to me. If you want me to perform on Mars, then you have to pay attention. First things first, we will discuss this somewhere else. I cannot make myself more perfectly clear."

"Oh, I hate you," Numbar muttered, following Proto Zoa out of the loading dock.

ZZZ

Zenon and Dasha hopped out of the pod, and Zenon gestured to Margie, who met them at Numbar's pod. Dasha managed to pop it open, and the three hopped inside, Margie glancing back and nodding to her father before proceeding. The back seat had been removed, and in its place was a bomb. It was white in color and looked so advanced as to almost be alien. "This is my final now," Zenon whispered.

"It looks like a group test," Margie added. "Let's make it good."

Dasha rummaged around for a screwdriver, which she found in the glovebox, and handed it to Zenon. Zenon and Margie walked over to the bomb, and Margie found a panel that Zenon could unscrew and detatch, which she did, only to find a mass of multi-colored wires beneath. "Now what?" she asked.

"Where's the main circuit board?" Margie asked in reply.

"Isn't it typically under the..." Her eyes drifted the timer counting down the minutes to their demise, which was now just under ten. "...timer?"

Margie snatched the screwdriver and began working at the timer, trying to get it loose. She succeeded at eight minutes and thirty-nine seconds to detonation and then began working at the board beneath it, trying to get it loose. "Great," she muttered after several moments of fruitless tugging and pulling. "Do you have a laser?" Zenon shook her head and glanced at Dasha.

"Is there a laser in the glovebox?" she asked.

"I think I saw one," Dasha replied, and then she returned to the glovebox.

"What's the timer say?" Zenon asked Margie.

"Seven fifty-nine."

"I've got nothing," Dasha said, returing to the back space. "What do we do?"

"How many army guys are still here?"

"Just Daddy, for support in case anything happens to me. Buddy system, you know. Why?"

"We have to get out of here."

ZZZ

"Oh, now you're getting ridiculous," Numbar said.

"Excuse me, but I have to check again. Do you want me there or not?" Proto Zoa asked.

"Oh, come on. That's the twelfth time you've asked me that."

"Do you want me there or not? Answer me; it's a simple yes-or-no question."

Numbar exhaled, a look of infinite rage and impatience in his eyes. "For the thirteenth time, yes, I want you at the show on Mars."

"Then make sure you have everything taken care of. And one more thing."

"Now what?"

Proto Zoa punched Numbar in the face. "That's for the girls," he said, watching Numbar push himself up off the ground.

"Am I interrupting?" General Hammond asked from the door.

"Has something gone wrong?"

Before the general could answer, Zoa noticed Margie and Dasha hovering near his pod. He was possessed by a seemingly endless dread. "We need to leave." Zoa nodded and walked past the general and over to his pod.

"Where's Zenon?" he asked the girls.

"Went to get her pod. I think the dream makes sense to her," Dasha replied. Zoa opened the pod, and the two girls, the general, and himself climbed inside. He started it and took off as the loading dock's door opened.

ZZZ

Numbar walked over to his pod and found the bomb damaged in the specific manner associated with attempts at disarmament. "Dammit," he muttered and tossed the bomb out of his pod. He then closed his pod up and prepared to take off, maneuvering so that he was behind Proto Zoa's pod and right next to a brigh red one that was preparing to take a far different path.

ZZZ

Zenon swung out in a large arc away from the space station, just as she had in her dream. She paused at one point to drift forward for a moment before steering away again. This loop was larger, and at the end of it, she found herself facing the space station again.

The only differences between this reality and the dream were that she had complete control over her movements and that she felt no feaer or confusion. She knew what she was doing, and she understood the reason behind her dreams. This was something she couldn't stop, but all the same, she had to see it. She had to live through it.

The space station erupted in a ball of fire, but it was off-center, not like it was in her dream. The blast ripped the rest of the space station apart like it was old-fashioned forensic gel, irreverent to where the breaks in the sections really were.

Zenon allowed the shockwave to rock her backwards, spinning her end over end, and then she recovered the will to steer. She charted a mental path to Nova Linda Cove and maneuvered her pod so that she could get there. She landed in the back yard, hopped out, and walked in through the back door, directly toward the guest room she occupied.