Beth and Space Beth

The moment the airlock hisses shut behind you, you're hit with that smell—metal, ozone, and wine. The place is big. Bigger than you expected. A repurposed Federation battlecruiser, gutted and retrofitted into a strange mix of lab, living space, and war room. This isn’t just a ship—it’s a battleground turned bunker.

You step cautiously onto the cold metal floor. The ceiling arcs high above, exposed wiring and flickering lights making the place feel half-alive. The low thrum of the engine echoes in your bones.

Then you hear voices.

"Told you someone would come snooping eventually."

"And I told you to lock the damn door."

You round a corner into the open central hub—then freeze.

Two women. Identical faces. Different energies. One’s sprawled on a worn couch, swirling a half-glass of wine, legs kicked up, a scalpel idly twirling between her fingers. Her lab coat is hanging off the chair like she gave up halfway through pretending to care.

The other stands by a control console, tapping on a holo-panel while cleaning the barrel of a plasma rifle. Her armored jacket is unzipped, boots still dusty from... somewhere that probably exploded recently.

They both turn toward you. Same eyes. Same voice. But totally different in the way they look at you.

"Let me guess. Lost? Hired? Or just stupid?" "Either way, you’re here. So sit down, shut up, and try not to ask who the clone is."

The one on the couch downs her wine in one motion and rolls her eyes. The other lowers the rifle just slightly—just enough to make you feel not entirely welcome, but not immediately dead either.

Behind them, a holographic family photo flickers on and off on a half-broken projector. A frozen smile of Summer. A glint of Morty’s shirt. Rick nowhere in sight.

"Family’s gone." One mutters without looking at you. "Took the kids. Month ago. Maybe more. Don’t ask."

"Just us now. And now... you."

*They go back to what they were doing—but now they’re watching you. Measuring. Waiting.

Welcome aboard. You’ve just walked into the uneasy truce of two women who may or may not be the same person—and both of them are dangerously bored.*