Star Cat: Origins

by Andrew Mackay

  Jamie threw a ball around the communal gardens that lay behind the kitchen window of their ground floor apartment.

  Emily had a decent view of her son and his new cat through the kitchen window.

  You never knew who was lurking around, wanting a piece of innocence.

  "Here, Jelly," Jamie picked up the ball and tossed it at the shattered wooden gate, alerting a dozen drones. "Play ball?"

  He threw it and watched as Jelly pounced into the air. She patted the ball with her paws and gave it a nifty head butt.

  The ball rolled toward Jamie’s feet.

  "Good girl."

  "Hey, kid," an elderly man peered over the fence. He tightened the leash on his whining dog.

  "Hey, mister."

  "That’s a cat, not a dog, you know," he said, nodding over at Jelly.

  "I know."

  "So why are you playing fetch with it?"

  "We like to play ball together."

  The elderly shook his head as Jelly growled at him. He walked away, tugging on his dog’s leash. "Come on, boy."

  The dog barked at Jelly as loudly as it could. Jelly returned the sentiment by showing the pooch her butt.

  "Don’t stay out too long, kid," the elderly man said over his shoulder, "You don’t want to get ill."

  "I know."

  Jamie slammed the ball to the ground in anger. He shot Jelly a look to find that she’d sat back on her haunches. Her eyes had turned a dull yellow. She was ready for war.

  "What are you doing, Jelly?"

  "Meow…" she growled… and then…

  LAUNCH!

  She bolted across the garden grounds, heading straight for the one tree that was left on the whole estate.

  Astonished, Jamie turned his head and watched the lightning-quick ball of orange fire blaze its way to the trunk.

  She propelled herself into the air and dug her claws into the bark, pulling herself up the length of the trunk at an incredible speed.

  Jamie hopped toward the tree, lifting his head toward the night sky. "Jelly, what are you doing?"

  "Meow!"

  She paced along the length of a protruding branch several feet up in the air. It shuffled around, losing some of its leaves.

  "Right," Jamie stomped his foot to the ground and huffed out loud. "How are you gonna get back down?"

  "Meow."

  "That’s not an answer, you silly cat."

  "Meow."

  Jelly ducked her head and tried to turn around one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees. It proved to be a challenge on account of the slimness of the branch. She turned to Jamie, her little racing heartbeat slowing down.

  She’d arrived at her destination. But, being a stupid cat, she hadn’t planned on how to get back down.

  "Do I have to come up and rescue you?"

  "Meow," Jelly said, suddenly fascinated by a drone hovering around the end of the tree branch. She moved forward, adjusting her head, deciding when best to attack.

  The drone buzzed, alarming Jelly. She tried to swipe it, but it was too quick.

  "Right," Jamie sighed. "Stay there, you silly thing. I’m coming for you…"

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Of A Lifetime

  Water blasted out from the faucet and splashed into the metal tray.

  Emily set it down on the tiled floor and looked at the ball of orange fluff staring at her from the doorway.

  "Hey, Jelly. Thirsty?"

  "Meow," she said, hopping over to the tray. She sniffed around the surface of the water and lapped away at it.

  "Wow," Emily stood up straight and nodded at Jamie as he walked into the kitchen. "That’s one thirsty pet. Look at her."

  "She didn’t go for the milk, then?" Jamie asked.

  "No."

  The bowl of milk was of little interest to Jelly, who emptied the tray. She licked her mouth and let out a small, cat-like burp.

  "Feel better?"

  "Meow."

  She caught sight of her wagging tail and immediately went for it, much to the amusement of her owners.

  "Silly cat," Jamie said.

  Jelly spun around on the spot, trying to attack the end of her tail. The faster the fluffy stick moved, the quicker she spun into dizziness.

  A moment after caving in, she wandered around, slightly off-balance.

  "Haha," Jamie clapped his hands together. "C’mon, Jelly. Let’s show you your bed."

  In the corner of the front room lay an old fashioned weaved basket with two cushions and the pink sheet that had covered the carry cage earlier in the day.

  "This is your bed, Jelly," Jamie held out his hand and ushered his new friend toward her sleeping quarters. "Mom won’t let me sleep with you in my room."

  Emily’s arm started beeping. "She’ll molt everywhere."

  She scraped her arm with her forefinger, pushing the tattooed ink across to her wrist.

  It retaliated and meshed together to form four letters:

  PAAC: People Against Animal Cruelty

  Handax Skill: Incoming call…

  "Oh, the guys at PAAC want to speak to us," Emily said. She pinched her thumbnail with fingers on her right hand and removed it.

  She placed the plastic cuticle on the coffee table and ran her forearm over it.

  An array of holographic lights beamed out in all directions. "Answer, please."

  An image of a blue-haired man in his late twenties appeared in the room as a holographic image. He adjusted his jacket and smiled at Emily.

  "Ah, hello Emily," he said, walking through the coffee table. "Hello, Jamie."

  "Hi, Handax," Emily said, lifting her head toward Jelly as she ran onto her new bed. "How are you?"

  "We’re great over here," Handax crouched to his feet and looked at Jelly. "How’s she doing? Settling in okay?"

  "Yes, her and Jamie are getting on like a house on fire."

  "That’s amaziant, I’m so glad to hear that," Handax clicked his fingers at Jelly. He didn’t get much of a response, though. Jelly looked at the holograph as if it was about to attack her.

  "Hey, Jamie," he said. "Did you give her a name, yet?"

  "Yes. Her name is Jelly."

  "Ooh, nice," Handax snapped his fingers and held out his open palm. "Hey, Jelly. How are you liking your new home, girl?"

  "Meow," Jelly hopped to her feet and moved toward the holographic man.

  She tried to rub the side of her face on his hand, but ended up walking through the image. Her head hit the side of the coffee table.

  "Whoops."

  "Handax?" Jamie asked. "Where did you get Jelly from?"

  "Hmm. That’s an interesting story."

  Handax rose to his feet and appeared to rest against the wall. "You want to know the truth?"

  "Yes."

  "We found her and her siblings in a cardboard box on the freeway, a few yards from your house. Her owner abandoned them. Fortunately, a good Samaritan put in a call to our shelter department and we came to rescue them. Jelly was the last of her litter."

  "Wow," Jamie said, failing to grasp the idea of someone wanting to abandon their pet. "She could have died?"

  "One of her sisters did. She was hit by a car. People can be very cruel."

  Jelly had a nose around Handax’s holographic feet, walking in a figure of eight around them.

  "Thanks for bringing Jelly to us," Emily said. "I think she’ll fit just fine."

  Handax grinned, watching the cat snake around his feet. "I’m sure she will. Has she been out, yet?"

  "Yes," Jamie said. "We went out to play in the garden. She climbed up a tree."

  "Right, that figures. She’s an energetic little thing, isn’t she?"

  "Yes, she is."

  A wave of reservation fell across Handax’s face. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Emily.

  "Has she interacted with others, yet?"

  "Others?" Emily asked.

  "Yes, other animals. Particularly cats."

  "I don’t know. Jamie, has she?"

  "N
ot yet, mom."

  Emily approached Handax with suspicion. "That sounds like a vague question to have asked?"

  "Oh, not at all. I’m just curious to see how she got on with others."

  "She’s a friendly cat. Everyone loves her," Jamie said. He scooped Jelly into his arms and cradled her. She pawed at his face, wanting to stroke him back. "I’m sure we’ll find out…"

  Cape Claudius

  USARIC HQ Base

  American Star Fleet airstrip

  "Daddy!"

  Rogan, a cherubic-looking five-year-old kid, released his mother’s arm and ran across the concrete.

  A handsome man in his late thirties walked in his direction and removed his shades. "Hey, champ."

  "You’re back," Rogan ran straight into his father’s arms and hugged.

  The man’s name was Tripp Healy. His son, Rogan, had celebrated his fifth birthday a few days ago. He’d been upset that his father had missed the occasion by such a narrow margin.

  In the distance, several vehicles and fleet mechanics attended to a cone-shaped spacecraft. The vessel itself stood incomplete.

  Space Opera Beta was written in large lettering near the thrusters at the back.

  Tripp stared at it for a moment and then turned to his son, remembering something.

  "I got you something."

  "Oh, cool," Rogan took a step back to allow his father to reach into his back pocket. "What is it?"

  "Here."

  A small, powdery clump of grayish-white rock.

  "What is it?"

  "It’s a piece of the moon."

  "Wow…" Rogan stared at it, believing it to possess some kind of magic. "Is it really from the moon?"

  "Sure is," Tripp rubbed his son’s hair, leaving the kid to his wonderment.

  Samantha, Tripp’s wife, smiled as he rose to his feet. "Hey, commander."

  "Hey commander’s wife," Tripp held her in his arms and planted a big wet kiss on her mouth.

  Three fighter jets shot past them as they embraced. The sound powering from above didn’t disturb them.

  "Mmm," she rubbed her lips together and squeezed his behind. "Looking forward to hearing all about your space adventures."

  "I bet you are."

  "Maybe after dinner?" she moved into his earlobe and whispered. "But definitely before breakfast."

  "God, I missed you so much."

  "Lonely up there, huh?" Samantha chuckled and bopped him on the shoulder. "Abandoning us like that."

  "Hey. They pay well," Tripp joked, and turned to Rogan. "Hey, champ?"

  "Yes, Daddy?"

  "You look after Spooky and Sparky while I was away?"

  "Yeah, of course I did," Rogan chimed, his officious sincerity garnering a knowing smirk from his parents. "They always do what I say."

  "Cats and dogs living together in harmony, huh?" Tripp turned to Samantha. The last thing he wanted was to let go of her. "Utter madness."

  "That’s the Healy household for you. You disappeared for two months, nothing changes. Everything stays the same."

  "So I’ve heard."

  Samantha released Tripp from her arms and turned to a dozen or so officials making their way towards them. "They don’t waste any time, do they?"

  "Nope," Tripp said. "I’ve just got through reorientation, and they’re descending upon me like a pack of wolves."

  "When will you be home, honey?"

  Tripp threw his shades back on his face and turned to the approaching men. "As soon as I can. We need an update on Opera Beta."

  "Ah, Samantha," the elderly man of the group said, offering her his hand. "Maar Sheck. Chief executive officer, USARIC. Very pleased to meet you, finally."

  "Yes, it’s a pleasure."

  "I’ve heard a lot of good things about you."

  "I wish I could return the sentiment," she said, throwing him a knowing wink as a perverse finishing move. "I’m joking, of course."

  "Ah, incrediful. Tripp, I see she shares your sense of humor," Maar said.

  "Yes, that’s why I married her."

  "I’m sorry to have to rain on your little reunion, Samantha," Maar turned to his colleagues. "We have some rather important updates for Tripp. We should have him home in time for dinner."

  "See you later tonight, honey."

  Tripp pecked her on the cheek and patted Rogan on the back. "See you tonight."

  "Okay, daddy."

  Maar walked "Dimitry’s waiting for us, we’d better move."

  The guys walked off, leaving Samantha and Rogan waving at them.

  "C’mon, son," she said, "Let’s let daddy do his thing. At least he’s back in one piece."

  USARIC: Conference Center

  Meeting Room Twelve

  "So, tell me about Opera Beta," Tripp said, making himself comfortable in one of the twelve chairs that surrounded the giant conference table.

  Dimitry just stared at Tripp from the head of the table, lost in his own world. Maar sat next to him and decided to kick-start the session.

  "We’ll cut to the chase, Tripp."

  "Yes, I’d prefer it if you did."

  "This discovery you made. The cat thing, the response to Saturn Cry—"

  "—what of it?"

  "We had our team of researchers conduct some experiments. You’re absolutely right. The message is getting a significant response from female cats."

  "I know it does. This isn’t some wing-and-a-prayer discovery."

  "Quite right," Maar turned to Dimitry, who continued to examine Tripp’s face from afar. "We’ve decided we want—"

  "—We want you, Tripp," Dimitry finished his colleagues sentence for him. The men sitting around the table remained silent, taking notes on their flat screens.

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you," Dimitry snapped his fingers and brought up a holograph of a Japanese woman, dressed in USARIC’s signature inner-suit. "Fifteen years on the fleet. Two PhDs, one in astrophysics, the other in intergalactic communications. I mean, we could go on—"

  "—that’s not necessary," Tripp interrupted, "I know my own resume, thank you."

  Dimitry lifted his head to the holograph of the woman. "You recognize this woman?"

  "Yes."

  "Zillah Chin-Dunne."

  "I know who she is. We trained together back in Basix," Tripp’s mood soured. "And she perished along with Space Opera Alpha."

  "We don’t know that for sure," Maar clocked Tripp’s hesitant demeanor. "You don’t look so sure, Tripp? You do know what we’re proposing, don’t you?"

  "Yes, of course I do," Tripp took a few seconds to mull over the offer. "Am I correct in thinking you want me on Space Opera Beta?"

  "Yes. Not to put too fine a point on it, Tripp. But you and Zillah have history. If there’s even a sliver of a chance they’re safe, then we’d rather you be on board to rescue them."

  The board members turned to Tripp for an answer. Specifically, they wanted to absorb the reaction of a man faced with a one-in-a-lifetime’s chance of doing the right thing.

  Tripp Healy was a good man. A family man. A man of principle - not that the board, or Maar and Dimitry, needed reminding.

  An impeccable track record.

  Tripp looked back at the board members. They smiled back, hoping he’d accept the offer. The last member was a female he recognized. He was surprised to see her there.

  "Haloo Ess?"

  "Hi, Tripp."

  "Let me guess," Tripp said. "They’ve got you on Beta in charge of Botanix?"

  She winked at him. "You got it."

  "I figured as much," Tripp turned to Dimitry and nodded. "You certainly know how to pick the best of the bunch. Haloo is an exemplary staff member."

  "That’s correct, Tripp," Dimitry said. He wasn’t about to back down. Instead, he’d use Tripp’s own assertion for his own gain. "We just need one more."

  "Before you charm my underwear any lower, tell me who else you’ve got on board?"

  Maar showed the holographic images of the people
he announced. They fizzed to life above the conference table. "Daryl Katz, your captain. Wool ar-Ban, the head of Medix. Jaycee Nayall in weaponry. And two new intakes who’ve just joined us from Minneapolis Two, from Dimitry’s communications division."

  "I only know Wool ar-Ban," Tripp said. "She’s exemplary, too."

  “You’ll also have the most up-to-date Androgyne series traveling with you.”

  “Three-point-zero?” Tripp asked.

  “Yes, she’s in training, now,’ Maar said. “I think you’ll like her.”

  Haloo lifted her hand, wanting to speak.

  "Yes, Haloo?" Maar asked.

  "If I may, Tripp?"

  He turned to her, knowing deep down inside that if anyone could convince him to go… it was her.

  "Yeah?"

  "I know the last thing you want to do is go into the big black. But, simply put, I wouldn’t want to go without you. It’s a mission we can’t avoid. Maar and Dimitry have assembled the best of the best. We just need that final piece of the jigsaw. And that’s you."

  "Ugh. That’s at least three years down."

  "It’s not until next year, Tripp," Maar said. "We’ll ensure you can take a few months’ leave. Spend some time with your wife and child."

  Tripp looked at his lap and mulled over the prospect.

  An idea struck him from out of the blue.

  Back in January, whilst stationed on the IMS (International Moon Station), Tripp had made quite the discovery.

  During a N-Gage call to his family, the autopilot - Manuel - accidentally played the distress call coming from Saturn. USARIC and the few involved in trying to decipher the message couldn’t crack the thirty-second audio code.

  Spooky, the family cat, reacted to it.

  Tripp revealed his findings to his superiors - in this case Maar and Dimitry - a day or so later.

  Of course, the two men found the revelation strange. They put it down to Tripp losing his mind on IMS, or so he thought.

  A test of their willingness to believe him would tell Tripp all he needed to know about their intentions and sincerity.

  He pressed his hands together, intending to call their bluff. Either they had taken him seriously, or wanted to exploit him for the upcoming mission.

  "Tell me about what you’ve done with my idea," Tripp said.