Star Cat: War Mage

by Andrew Mackay

  "What are you looking at me like that for?" Samuel asked.

  "I want to change Opera Charlie’s task and finish remit."

  "You what, now?" Samuel pulled at his collar trying to cool himself down, "You can’t just change Opera Charlie’s without proper consultation—"

  "—Yes I damn well can, Samuel," Maar spat and thumped the table. "I’ve been trapped in this godforsaken bunker for two months. I’ve been told I can expect to be here for months, maybe even years. Don’t talk to me about consultation, you imbecile. Look at the damned vector."

  The Space Opera Charlie image continued to revolve. An exact replica of Beta and Alpha before her, it contained a control deck, fit room, botanical garden, and medician center. The board noticed its reduced size when held up against its predecessors.

  "No N-Vigorate chamber?" Samuel asked. "You’re not taking any canaries on board?"

  "No. No need," Maar said. "Are you getting the picture, now?"

  Samuel spread his fingers and enlarged the entirety of the second level on Opera Charlie; USARIC Weapons & Armory.

  "The whole of level two is Weapons & Armory?" Samuel swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, "It’s not a rescue mission, is it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a suicide mission."

  "Not quite."

  "What is it if not a suicide mission?"

  Maar nodded at Crain, who turned to the board and rose out of his chair.

  "After Dimitry Vasilov’s assassination, and the expulsion of twenty-three diplomats from US soil, we feel we should exercise damage limitation. I want there to be no doubt before we seek approval from the board for the new motion."

  Crain played the recorded video message sent by Opera Beta. Tripp’s face fizzed to life above the table.

  "Commence playback, please."

  Tripp appeared to speak to the members of the board. In reality, it was his recorded message to the lens on the N-Gage control panel.

  "This is Tripp Healy, assumed captain of Space Opera Beta. We have lost her captain, Daryl Katz…."

  The board watched as the lens caught sight of Saturn and her revolving rings through Opera Beta’s windshield.

  "Shortly before boarding Space Opera Alpha we deciphered enough of Saturn Cry to ascertain that it was, indeed, sending a distress call. Baldron Landaker and Tor Klyce are in incarceration. Dimitri Vasilov, I hope you can hear this. Maar, I hope you’re with him. This has been a deliberate sabotage of our mission. I hope USARIC finds the powers it has to rectify the situation."

  Tripp shifted the lens. The board, and Maar and Crain, peered into the holographic video. A beautiful pink shaft of gas stretched out from the middle of Enceladus.

  "Is that what they found?" Samuel asked.

  Crain paused the video and enlarged the image with his fingers. He traced the pink light coming from Enceladus with his fingertip.

  "Yes, this is what he was talking about. Resume playback, please."

  Tripp’s recording played on, "Alpha was destroyed. Most of us made it back, but we seem to have contracted some sort of virus. The same extends to Anderson—”

  “Anderson?” Samuel asked.

  "The cat,” Crain said. “Jelly Anderson. From the UK.”

  “Ah, right. Yes, of course. The limey cat.”

  “ —Botanix has been compromised,” Tripp continued. “I am waiting on Manuel to report back on the severity of the damage. I do not expect it to be positive."

  Tripp lifted his head. The light show coming from Enceladus reflected across his pupils. Two pink tears rolled down his cheek, "Oh m-my. Look at it. It’s beautiful…"

  The video paused for a couple of seconds and snapped away, leaving the vector of Charlie rotating above the table. All eyes averted to the image. Most in the room predicted what Maar wanted. It made them nervous.

  “So?” Maar finished.

  Everyone turned to him, including Crain and Kaoz.

  “Let’s establish the facts, shall we?” Maar left a pregnant pause and made his way behind each of the seated board members, “Opera Beta found Alpha and destroyed it. It would appear the cat has decoded the distress call. They’ve all caught some hideous disease. I ask you, members of the board, does it make sense of Opera Charlie to go and rescue them?”

  “For the sake of the crew?” Samuel chanced. “Yes, I think—"

  “—No,” Maar said. “You think incorrectly, Samuel. The insurance claims alone will sink us.”

  “You can’t be suggesting we—”

  “—Beta is missing and contains the key to Saturn Cry. The crew are running out of oxygen. They’ll be dead by the time Charlie reaches them. We can’t take the risk of bringing them home. But we can go in there, destroy everything and come back home with the answer.”

  “You w-want Charlie’s remit to go from search and rescue to… search and destroy?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  Maar waved his hand over the conference table. The images of three mercenaries appeared above the table - two men and a woman.

  “Since news of the compound breach got out, we’ve seen the value of our stock plummet. We lost nearly half of our subjects.”

  “This is insanity.”

  Maar didn’t care for the board member’s response. He threw Kaoz a signaled wink.

  “This is necessary,” Maar said. “The three crew members before you are the cream of the crop. Highly-trained, merciless killing machines. At the very top of their game. It is these five who will be manning Opera Charlie to get our property back. Namely, Jelly Anderson and the answer to Saturn Cry.”

  Kaoz cocked his gun and aimed it at the board members. Crain, who was used to more due diligence, closed his eyes and allowed the inevitable to play out, “God help us all.”

  “All those in favor of Opera Charlie’s remit being change to search and destroy raise your hands.”

  No one dared move a muscle.

  “Okay, let me put this another way,” Maar kicked the table in fury, “Those of you who wish to remain alive. Raise your hands, please.”

  Six board members reluctantly put their hands in the air, leaving Samuel to freak out.

  “This is asinine,” Samuel barked. He couldn’t believe his fellow colleagues would bow down to Maar’s demands, “This is improper. You can’t threaten us like this."

  “I think you’ll find I can,” Maar’s eyes crept behind Samuel’s shoulders. Kaoz marched a few feet away from the door, “All those in favor of Opera Charlie’s change of remit… keep your hands raised.”

  The board members kept their hands in the air, eager to satisfy Maar and Kaoz.

  Samuel refused to relent and screamed at his colleagues, “Are you serious? You’re just going to sit there and cave in while he—"

  "—He’s got a gun, Samuel," the female board member whispered, "Just do it.”

  “I am not going to be bullied into turning a philanthropic endeavor into a wanton act of barbarism.”

  “No?” Maar gave the man a final chance.

  “No.”

  “How very disappointing. We have six out of seven ayes at the moment,” Maar said. “Would the ascension of the value of your shares not compel you to vote the way your conscious tells you?”

  “No, it would not.”

  Maar nodded at Kaoz and returned to the chair at the head of the table, “That’s a pity.”

  BLAMMM!

  Samuel’s chest opened in a hail of blood and fragments of flesh and bone. He slumped to his knees and clutched at his heart, bringing Kaoz’s smoking gun to sight a few feet behind him.

  The board members gasped in terror and kept their arms in the air.

  Samuel slumped face-first to the ground, dead.

  “Six for six. A unanimous decision,” Maar returned to his chair and folded his arms, “Anyone got a problem with that?”

  The board members shook their heads with great enthusiasm.

  “Good. You can put your hands down, now.”

&nb
sp; Crain looked up from the desk and winced at the executed corpse bleeding across the floor. He felt like throwing up as he distributed the papers along to each person around the desk.

  “My colleague, Crain, here, would like you to sign these NDAs,” Maar said to the board, “If anyone discovers my whereabouts, I will know it was one of you who told them. There will be ramifications for violating these non-disclosure agreements.”

  The board members could barely keep their hands still as they signed the papers.

  “Sign them.”

  They jumped in their seats as Kaoz hovered over them, “You want me to start executing them one by one, Maar?”

  “Kaoz, bad doggy!” Maar joked. “Be nice to our friends.”

  Each board member signed the document without reading a single word. It was either that or risk getting shot.

  “It’s unlikely we’ll all see each other again, of course,” Maar nodded at Crain to collect the papers. The old man did as instructed and collected them up from each person.

  “Sorry. Can I just take this, please?”

  Maar watched as he moved on to the next board member, “My colleague, Kaoz, will escort you back to your cars. If you’re feeling nervous about your association with USARIC, then fair enough. I can’t say I’d be surprised.”

  Kaoz rounded the six board members up and pointed at the door, “Move.”

  “Yes, okay,” they hastened over to the door, hoping not to get killed.

  “See you idiots later,” Maar rubbed his hands together and looked at Crain at the other end of the desk, “Good?”

  “Good.”

  “I’m going insane cooped up in here, man,” Maar kicked the table.

  Crain jumped in his seat with fright, “I know y-you are, Maar.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You do realize that you’ve just contravened every rule in the Infinity Clause, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And rendered the Bering Treaty practically useless?”

  “Yes.”

  “If any of this gets out it might star War World Four.”

  “It won’t get out.”

  “There are six chances making their way to their cars right now,” Crain slammed the signed documents on the desk. The feeling of guilt tugged at his insides.

  “Ah, when Charlie returns with the goods and we’re celebrated as heroes, I’m sure their stock going up by three points at least will dampen the blow.”

  “Who else knows what’s going on? Other than them, and you and me?”

  “Just this imbecile,” Maar kicked Samuel’s bloodied body, “I don’t think he’s going to open his mouth, though.”

  “I want you to know something, Maar Sheck,” Crain backed up to the door, “I knew nothing. Don’t you involve me in this. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you put me up to it.”

  Maar chuckled as he watched Crain exit the room, “Fair enough. Oh, and by the way, can you send some lackey down here to clear this corpse away before it stinks the room up?”

  “You’re a madman,” Crain slammed the door behind him.

  ***

  Kaoz watched each of the six board members climb into the back of their waiting limousines. He held his mouthpiece in his fingertips and watched the first two cars drive off.

  “This is Kaoz. Do you read me?”

  “I read you,” Oxade’s voice came through Kaoz’s earpiece, “Have they left yet?”

  “Yes, they’re leaving R&D, now.”

  “Good. How did it go?”

  “All good. We got a unanimous decision to go and blast Opera Beta into the next multiverse…”

  USARIC Headquarters

  Cape Claudius, South Texas, USA

  “Yes! That’s amaziant,” Oxade punched the air as he made his way into the animal compound. He clutched the grip on his rifle and held out his glove to the panel on the wall.

  “Signatures all down?”

  “You know it,” Kaoz’s voice beamed into his head.

  “How did he get them to agree?”

  The door to the animal compound slid open. The illuminated control hub loomed in the middle of the room, “I guess you could say it was his persuasive personality.”

  “Ha. He’s got bundles of persuasion, that guy.”

  “Look, don’t play around,” Kaoz continued. “Maar wants the team assembled within the hour. Some new recruit is joining you. You’re leaving one week ahead of schedule.”

  “Good. Let’s get this show on the road,” Oxade reached the central control deck. He made eyes at a tall woman in a lab coat. She pressed her forearm against a plate glass surface turned to Oxade. A bizarre-looking telescopic monocle took place of her right eye. It somehow complemented her bright purple lipstick.

  “Nutrene, where are the subjects?”

  “Just loading the capture data into the bank. They’ll be here any moment now,” she looked up at the panel and observed the green light loading across the screen.

  “How much damage did the protesters cause?”

  “They nearly got everything. If it hadn’t have been for the intervention, they’d know everything.”

  Oxade glanced at the technicians at their computers. They turned away and continued working, hoping to avoid contact.

  “Yeah, that’s right, you lackeys. Keep crunching those numbers.”

  SCREECH! WAIL! GRUNT!

  A dozen chimpanzees slammed against their cages in the right-hand corner of the compound. Oxade did his best to block out the noise, “Those damn monkeys, man. I swear to God, I dunno why those activists didn’t just shoot them all.”

  “Why don’t you put a bullet in the back of their heads?”

  The chimpanzees hopped around, snarling and wailing at Oxade as he made his way past their cages.

  “Hold on, good buddy,” Oxade turned to them and clanged the butt of his shot-gun along the cage bars, further antagonizing the animals, “Hey! You vicious turd bags. Shut the hell up.”

  Kaoz’s chuckles flew through the earpiece, having heard his colleague’s malicious taunting.

  Oxade arrived at the second of three doors, “Byford?”

  “Don’t call me by my surname. You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Not true. I’m your new captain, sweetheart.”

  “Really? We’re on?”

  “Yup. Now, let’s get these little critters returned to their cages.”

  Nutrene’s monocle twisted at the console as she hit the green button. The wall by the computers slid into the ground, startling the staff at their workstations.

  “Right, good people. Keep back. Let the vehicles in, please.”

  The wall opened out into the delivery area of the parking lot. Two forklift trucks rolled in on their conveyors. Each carried a metal cage rammed to the brim with captured felines.

  Oxade approached the second bay and pulled the door across its sliders, “Offload them here.”

  The trucks stopped by the main console and lowered their forks to the ground.

  SCHWUMP.

  “No playing around,” Nutrene lifted her left forearm and extended her index finger on her right. The tip of her digit lit up, “Head count, please.”

  The driver of the first truck hopped out and kicked the cage off the metal grid, “Thirteen in this one, and I think twenty or so distributed in the others.”

  “Be careful with them,” Nutrene counted the cats. She scored the numbers off on her forearm with her fingertip, “So, that’s eight… nine… ten—” she arrived at the tenth cat. An angry-looking, white Japanese bobtail. They caught each other’s gaze.

  Oxade moved next to Nutrene and nudged her on the shoulder, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, it’s just…” Nutrene couldn’t tear her eye away from the ball of white fluff, “That’s Suzie Q-Two. One of the finalists in the Star Cat Project.”

  “So?”

  “I didn’t realize USARIC was keeping her here. She should have been returned to her owner after
it was all over.”

  “Who cares? Let’s get the ugly balls of fluff back in their cages.”

  Nutrene looked at the driver with suspicion, “Did you make physical contact with any of these felines?”

  “No,” the driver nodded at Oxade, “When he caught ‘em, we just bundled them up.”

  A dozen lab coated USARIC officials pulled the cages from the first truck and moved them to the second bay.

  “Damn it,” Nutrene scanned the cages on the second forklift, “I’m only seeing a couple dozen here. Where are the rest?”

  “We couldn’t find them,” Oxade said. “We had ten units out scouring Port D’Souza. This is all we could find—"

  "—All you could find? There’s at least thirty unaccounted for.”

  Nutrene’s monocle focused on the cats in the second set of cages. Her Heads Up Display scanned each of their faces. The bottom-left corner of her lens displayed the total - 48.

  “So, forty-eight there, and twenty-two in the first set,” she recorded the number on her forearm with her lit-up digit, “That’s exactly thirty missing subjects.”

  “They’re out in the wild,” Oxade said. “They’ll never survive on their own. If they don’t starve, the freeway will take care of them.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Nutrene caught the tardy pace of the workers removing the cages to the second compound, “Hey, get moving. I want them bundled up and stored. Faster.”

  She returned to the console and pressed her forearm to the glass panel, “These aren’t your ordinary, everyday subjects. We need those missing thirty accounted for, dead or alive. Preferably dead.”

  “Why, what’s wrong with them?”

  Nutrene closed her eyes and ignored the question outright. The panel absorbed the ink from her forearm and fed it onto the screen, “We’re leaving in a week’s time.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “We need to find the escapees and bring them back.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with them?”

  Port D’Souza

  South Texas

  Somewhere near Interstate 35

  An elderly man named Glenn Logan enjoyed a bottle of Rollneck Kojak beer on the porch of his bungalow. He’d been drinking for a few hours by now. The effects of the alcohol kicked in a while ago.