“Is that what I think it is?” Z took a step back.

“Yup- look- double pod, this is going to set a record. They’ll bid their own clones for a twin.” R touched the eerily florescent protrusions lightly, quickly recoiling from the heat.

“Yeah- if our sloppy containment system doesn’t break down when that thing becomes not one, but two freaking stars! Are you kidding me? Freaking sunflower seeds!? The cloud orchids almost cracked the phase inverter!”

“Cloud orchids get into everything. A sun grows in a nice, tight package. No problem.”

“Dude… look at it- they’re already fusing hydrogen, this is bad. I’m serious- you need to call somebody.”

“No way, not until it’s big enough to make a claim. I’m- oh… wow- that’s getting a little spicy- hehe.” R laughed nervously as one of the pods crackled. “Uh- that’s supposed to happen. I’ll just set the meta-locks while it does its thing.” The pods continued to sizzle aggressively.

“O-Okay- I’m gonna go…” Z stared fearfully at the pods as he backed away. He bumped a table and dislodged a mug from a high shelf. It crashed to the floor, startling R, who jerked and accidentally jammed a button before he’d latched the enclosure. The containment system announced its displeasure with an instant cacophany of flashes, beeps, and grinds.

“Oh, hell! No… No!” R struggled futilely with controls he understood very poorly. He looked back at Z, who had frozen in shock. “Man- uh- I hit the polarity- uh- thing… I think this is bad now… little help?”

“Eh- eeeh- uuh.” Z stuttered helpfully. Despite his fear, he knew the recovery process for an preforced polarity breakdown in his sleep. His parents insistence on traditional matter-farmer education had annoyed Z as a child, but times like this proved its value. He deftly adjusted the overunity bearing gap and swaddled the quaternion generator with one finger. The rickety containment system reluctantly accepted his repairs and the hammering alerts ceased hammering. “Holy shit man, that was close.”

“Is it okay?” R reached for the latches. Z smacked his hand away.

“Dumbass! We’re calling the bureau.” Z said.

“You can’t! This is a golden ticket!” R begged, he reached again for the latches. Z aimed to slap his hand but only glanced it. R’s hand caught a latch and it lifted. The enclosure popped open, jarring the delicate pods inside. They tilted too far off their stalk and bobbled a bit. Z and R held their breath.

The smaller pod bumped the larger and made a dull thud, far too deep to come from something so small. The larger pod deformed, the oscillations of a spherical wave grew violently and battered the smaller pod. It finally broke open, a delicate bead of light breaking through a membrane. It flashed, R and Z covered their eyes and then felt the sudden waves of heat and pressure, then silence.

After a long beat, Z opened his eyes. The worktable and containment system were in ruins. R finally stopped screaming and opened his eyes, then went back to screaming.

“DAMNIT!!! DAMNIT!!! IT’S GONE!!!” R lamented loudly.

“Yeah, and you’re lucky to be alive. Your freaking twin stars combined and collapsed and went nova… in the basement, on taco night. Good thing they were still pods.” Z said.

“Oh, the taco trees are blooming? Well- that’s nice.” R replied.