Learning to Dance

Dr. Samuel Claw did not look like your average ship’s
doctor. Up had heard him spoken of before, and met him
once or twice in passing. He was supposed to be some sort
of genetic genius, a specialist in robotics who’d invented a
controversial method of fusing robot parts into human
bodies to replace those lost to injury or illness. Lauded by
some as the key to immortality, and abhorred by others as
the end of humanity itself, Dr. Claw’s research had made
waves across the galaxy a few years ago. The doctor’s own
hands and forearms shone with a sinister metallic gleam,
and it was rumoured that it was because he had used
himself as a test subject in the early stages of his research,
many years ago. There was something eerily super-
villainesque about him, which was perhaps why the
newsfeeds had taken to calling him by his press-given
nickname: Space-Claw.
“Dr. Claw,” said Commander Li. “What a surprise. I
didn’t realize the Panther was in the area.”
Dr. Claw folded his hands with an unsettling whirring
sound. “We’re badly crippled, I’m afraid, and were on our
way back to Earth for repairs when we got the distress
call.” He made eye contact with each commander in turn as
he spoke. “We lost Jackson in our last attack – I have been
Acting Commander in the interim. I may not have a
working ship to offer but perhaps I can be of some
assistance anyway.”
There was a moment of silence at the news. Jackson had
been a good Ranger, a good Commander. The Cazadora
and the Panther had collaborated on missions many times -
it was the Panther that had rescued Up and Taz from the
Graali desert moon only a few years before.
Dr. Claw came closer to the strategy table and peered at
their plans. Everyone instinctively stood a little taller – he