Star Cat The Complete Series

by Andrew Mackay

  “Umm, you swore, Tor,” she laughed at his anguish, “I’m going to tell.”

  “Please don’t—”

  4’7”

  Medix

  Two hours later

  “—Please don’t knock the cups off, honey,” Wool watched Jelly press her chin against the surface of the table, “I mean it. Try to resist.”

  Jelly looked at the five empty cups perched in a row. Her paws twitched, wanting to strike each one.

  Wool tested the cat’s obedience, “Do not touch those cups. Remember what you did during the Star Cat Trials—”

  “Miew,” the very thought of the needlessly violent competition made her thrash the first cup off the edge and onto the floor.

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to hold that in,” Wool said. “But you need to learn to obey orders, honey.”

  “I wanna knock ‘em all off.”

  “Think of them as fingers,” Wool said. “If that was me hanging off the side of the building, I like to think you’d help me back up.”

  “Mmm, no. My instinct wants me to knock them off. Make them fall.”

  “Ignore your instincts, honey. Just look at them. Exercise some mercy. It’s a valuable tool to master.”

  “Miew,” Jelly’s snorts of derision fogged up the side of the plastic cups, “No, no… don’t…” she whispered to herself, “Resist…”

  “Don’t do it, Jelly.”

  “Uhhh,” she growled and clenched her fists, “No, it’s no use.”

  Jelly tore into the four cups.

  SCHWIP-SCHWIP-SCHWAAP. Clunk.

  The final cup spun around on the floor, providing the perfect denouement to her failure of the task.

  “Sorry.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I wanted to. Rule number one. I get to do what I want, when I want.”

  “I see Tor’s classes are working,” Wool spat with sarcasm. She picked the cups from the floor and returned them to the edge of the desk, one by one.

  “Mommy. Don’t make me do it again.”

  “You’re going to keep doing it until you learn to resist.”

  “But I want to,” Jelly huffed and stood up straight. She seemed taller than just a few hours ago. No longer a six-year-old, she resembled a half-cat adolescent of around thirteen years of age.

  Wool covered her mouth with shock, “Jelly?”

  “Ugh, what is it now?”

  “You’ve… grown.”

  “Yeah, so?” she complained like a typical teenager would.

  Wool pointed at Jelly’s buds pushing through the chest area of her shirt, “And not just in height, either.”

  “Mommy,” Jelly covered her chest with her furry arm, “Are you looking at me?”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Over to the wall, please. I want to record your height again.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Jelly stormed over to the wall, “I’m only going because you give me food. Remember that, bitch.”

  “Jelly,” Wool barked in shock, following her to the wall, “Don’t ever say that—”

  “—Don’t ever say I’m a damn Androgyne,” Tripp rubbed his face, looking at himself in the mirror, “Every time I wake up, I feel great. And then something reminds me.”

  The Rest and Recuperation room provided quiet solace during the crew’s preparation for impending doom.

  “I swear to God, I cannot go on like this.”

  The cavity in his head had been patched up using Baldron’s synthetic skin. He may have looked like a million dollars, but deep down inside he felt a million Lira.

  He decided one, simple action could be undertaken to make him happy, “Don’t let me regret this. I never want to feel this way again.”

  He removed his thumb cuticle and squeezed it in his right hand. The sharp, curved nail heated up and sparked.

  “Let’s test those pain receptors,” Tripp angled his head in the mirror and placed the sharp end of his white-hot thumbnail at the logo on his skin.

  The heat scorched through the Manning/Synapse logo, burning through to his connecting neck rod.

  “Ngggggg…. G-God…”

  The flap of synthetic skin containing the logo peeled away from his neck. He held out his arm and turned the logo to the mirror.

  “How do we like me, now?” Tripp winced in the mirror, “Manning/Synapse… no more.”

  He dropped the flap of skin down the drain and hit the rinse panel.

  SWISSSHHHH!

  It gurgled down the drain, never to be seen again.

  “Ignorance is bliss—”

  5’1”

  USARIC - Weapons & Armory

  Two hours later

  “—but weapons are more blissful,” Jaycee unclipped a semi-automatic rifle from the wall and presented it to Jelly, “I’m not sure you’ve got the muscle strength to be able to hold this.”

  She held out her paws, “Let me try. I like guns.”

  “Be careful. It’s loaded,” Jaycee pushed it into her chest. She caught it and felt the weight.

  “I will.”

  “The D-REZ semi-auto. Three round burst. You can flip the lever on the side down for single shot, or up for continuous.”

  “Okay,” she fumbled with the gun in an attempt to get used to its weight.

  “It’s light, easy to use and gets the job done. That’s why I like it.”

  Her infinity claws didn’t get in the way as she gripped the gun in both hands. Jaycee lifted the nozzle away from his chest, “Don’t ever point your gun at the people you’re working with.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jaycee thumped the cabinet. A slit formed on the wall, producing a plastic handle, “Stand back, girl.”

  He yanked a blast sheet out. The USARIC logo stretched out across its surface. He pointed at its circular target and bullseye, “Now, see that little notch at the end of the gun?”

  She closed one eye and looked down the sight, “Yeah?”

  “Match it up to the red dot in the middle of the circle.”

  She did as instructed. Jaycee turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, Jelly. You’ve grown.”

  “Everyone’s been saying that. I’m a big girl, now,” she said. “Can I shoot it?”

  “Yes, wait a second. I’ll just take a few steps back—”

  THRAA-AA-ATT!

  The first bullet hit the red dot. The rest snaked their way up the blast sheet and popped a hole in the middle of the "A’ of USARIC.

  “—Whoa, Jelly,” Jaycee picked himself up from the floor and shook his head. “Never, ever shoot until I tell you it’s okay.”

  “But you said ‘yes’?”

  “I know I did, but I didn’t mean to fire.”

  Jelly thumped the side lever down and took aim at the blast sheet once again, “Well, you should be more careful next time—”

  “—You should be more careful next time,” Bonnie grabbed hold of the punching bag as Jelly waved the pain away from her claw, “You can’t just keep punching over and over again. I don’t care how angry you are.”

  Jelly squinted at Bonnie with evil in her eyes, “I was taking out the trash. Bonnie.”

  “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, young lady. You’re not getting so big that I can’t kick your furry little behind all over this place, you know.”

  “I can do what I like,” Jelly growled and licked her infinity claws. She spat the liquid on her tongue at the USARIC logo on the mat.

  “Ugh,” she winced, “Tastes like zinc.”

  “Never lick your wounds, sweetie. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Force of habit,” Jelly said. “And, strange things happen when I try to clean myself.”

  “What do you mean?” Bonnie asked.

  “Mommy said I have to use the bathroom like everyone else.”

  “Wool said that? Because you can’t fit in your tray, anymore?”

  “It’s too small,” Jelly tapped the side of the bag with her paws, “I have t
o stand in that stupid spraying water like humans do to clean myself.”

  “It’s not stupid, sweetie. It’s a shower,” Bonnie let go of the bag and took a few steps back, “It’s how we clean ourselves.”

  Jelly struck the bag with her claws, bursting the skin. A tuft of horsehair poked out.

  “It’s disgusting,” she said. “It’s more hygienic to use your own saliva and rub yourself down.”

  Bonnie giggled and pointed at Jelly’s paws, “Concentrate, sweetie. Remember, keep your left paw up, and wait for them to strike. One-two, duck, and upper-cut. Use your claws.”

  “One-two,” Jelly jabbed her left paw forward, “back, and upper cut,” she finished with a swish to the bag’s mid-section.

  “If you ever find yourself without a weapon, you’ll need to take them off-guard.”

  Jelly sneered at the bag, “Come and get me, bad guy. Step forward—”

  5’4”

  Medix

  Three hours later

  Wool ran her detached thumbnail across the wall above Jelly’s head. She looked up at her ‘mommy’s’ elbow.

  “Okay, step forward, honey,” Wool rocked to her heels and took a step back. A white light raced down the wall and hit the floor. It recorded the distance - five feet and four inches.

  “In the past twelve hours you’ve gained two feet,” Wool looked at her forearm and spoke into her wrist, “Time check, please.”

  The three black lines bent around and formed the current time on her skin - 20:00.

  “It’s dinner time,” Wool looked at Jelly, “You’re nearly as tall as I am.”

  “How tall are you, mommy?”

  “Five foot six.”

  Jelly extended her infinity claws and moved them from her own forehead to Wool’s.

  “We’re nearly the same height.”

  “That’s what I just said.” Wool experienced a sense of impending dread she’d never felt before. Standing in front of her was someone she’d grown to love. Quite literally. Adjusting to Jelly’s new height, the unthinkable crept through Wool’s mind.

  She was smarter, now, but her instincts and attitude remained the same.

  Could Jelly be trusted? Who’s to say she wouldn’t turn on her crew? The ramifications of Jelly’s progress - or evolution - were too terrifying to comprehend. None of this was lost on Wool.

  “Honey?”

  “Yes, mommy?”

  “Would you ever hurt me?”

  Jelly thought about her answer for a moment. Each second that trundled by perturbed Wool even more. Surely the cat should have said yes in an instant. The delay in answering was too much to bear.

  “B-Because, y-you know I’d never—”

  “—You’re scared, mommy.”

  Jelly hung her paws by her side and took some offense, “Don’t be scared.”

  “I j-just need to be able to trust you, honey. We all d-do.”

  “Why are you st-stuttering?” Jelly clenched her fists, thinking the woman was making fun of her.

  “I’m n-not.”

  “Y-Yes, you are,” Jelly turned her back on Wool and made for the door, “Feeding time. Are you c-coming?”

  “Yes.”

  Rest & Recuperation

  Space Opera Beta - Level Two

  Jaycee, Tripp, Bonnie, and Wool sat around the central mess hall table eating their stewed dinner from paper plates.

  Cups of fresh water and a large, half-full jug occupied place in the middle of the table.

  Dinah Washington’s What A Diff’rence A Day Makes provided the perfect background soundtrack for their dining.

  “I miss the taste of real food,” Wool held her hair back as she leaned in to slurp the stew on her spoon, “What is this, anyway?”

  “I think it’s essentially some sort of beef,” Tripp took a bite and chewed it around, “Mmm, not bad actually.”

  All eyes turned to Jelly at the head of the table, struggling with her spoon. Anyone who hadn’t met her would swear she was eighteen-years-old by this point.

  “How are you getting on, Jelly? Gotten used to the spoon, yet?”

  “My claws are getting in the way,” she complained and dropped the spoon on the floor. “I don’t like cutlery.”

  Jaycee chuckled to himself, “Ha. Well, you can always—”

  Jelly pressed her chin to the plate and licked at the chunk of jellied chicken pâté.”

  “Or you could do that, instead.”

  Wool lifted the jug and poured herself a cup of water, “Leave her alone, Jaycee. She’s had a rough day.”

  “Miew,” Jelly’s ears pricked up at Wool’s cup at the edge of the table. Bonnie watched the girl’s infinity claws expand.

  “Jelly, what are you--”

  “—Meow.”

  SWISH-SWIPE!

  She knocked the cup of water off the table. The water splashed across the floor.

  “Oh, now look what you’ve done,” Wool huffed and tore a piece of towel from the middle of the table, “You know, you should really clean this up.”

  “No, I shouldn’t, mommy. You should,” Jelly swung her head left and right, satisfied at having carried out her instinctive objective.

  Tor walked into the room and placed his right hand on his hip, “Hey, Jaycee?”

  “Huh?” The big man turned to look at him, “What’s up, comrade?”

  Tor pointed to the hunk of metal around his neck, “I did what you asked. I taught her as much English as I could. It went well. Now can you please take this damn device off?”

  Jaycee lifted his gloved Baldron-hand and threatened to hit the activate button, “How do you want me to retrieve it?”

  “How do you think?” Tor whined.

  “Either way suits me. Your head attached or detached, your call.”

  The rest of the crew giggled to themselves - all except Wool, who didn’t find the taunting especially funny, “Jaycee. Come on, leave him alone.”

  “Attached, please,” Tor made his way over to the free chair and reached for a piping hot tray of stew.

  “Suit yourself,” Jaycee hit the second button. Tor’s Decapidisc beeped and unbuckled, folding out into a backwards “E” shape.

  Tor caught it in his hands and slammed it to the table, “Thank God that’s off me. I never wanna wear that again.”

  Jaycee shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth, “Then don’t be a twit, and you won’t.”

  Jelly’s ears flicked out. She looked at Jaycee, “Mommy says you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full.”

  “Mmm,” he covered his mouth and spoke through his food, “She’s right. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  A moment of respite fell across the room as everyone ate their dinner. No one spoke for once. Dinah Washington’s dulcet tones soothed their ears as they continued to eat.

  It was maybe the second time since Opera Beta left Cape Claudius nearly three years ago that they enjoyed each other’s company. They’d been through so much together, after all.

  Tripp grabbed his cup of water and held it up, “I’d like to propose a toast.”

  “Toast?” Jelly licked her lips, “Like hot bread? I wanna try toast.”

  “No, it’s not that kind of toast, honey,” Wool lifted her cup with the others.

  Jelly didn’t have a cup to lift - just a saucer of milk next to her plate of jellied chicken.

  Tor felt like he couldn’t join in given his history.

  “That’s right, Russian,” Jaycee said. “Keep your cup of water on the table.”

  “I will,” Tor threw a clump of stew into his mouth and turned away.

  “To Space Opera Beta,” Tripp said.

  “To Space Opera Beta,” everyone chimed.

  “And to Daryl Katz and Haloo Ess. Gone, but never, ever forgotten.”

  “To Katz and Ess,” Bonnie, Jaycee, Wool, and Tripp said before taking a gulp of water.

  They slammed their cups to the surface of the table and continued eating.

>   “So, Jelly,” Tripp chewed on his food, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you this whole time.”

  “What?” She lowered her head and nibbled at her chicken.

  “Now you can speak, and all. I think I ask for everyone here. Hell, everyone who ever owned a cat. When you were a regular cat, what, uh—”

  “—What, uh, what?” Jelly lifted her head and mocked him.

  Tripp couldn’t get the question out of his mouth. He’d always planned to ask the question of his own pets if the situation ever arose. Of course, it never did. He couldn’t formulate the question and quit talking.

  Wool had a go in his place, “Honey, I think what Tripp wants to ask is… when you were a real cat, what was it… like?”

  “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?” Jelly snapped.

  “Well,” Tripp interjected with his second futile effort, “What is it like? Being a cat?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that?” Jelly huffed and palmed her plate toward the edge of the table, “Billions of years of evolution in two days and you want to know what being a cat was like?”

  The crew were stunned at her outburst.

  “Idiots,” Jelly continued to lick her chicken.

  “Well,” Tripp rolled his shoulders and tried to keep his dignity intact, “What do you think about when you’re a cat?”

  “I dunno,” Jelly eyed the others, hoping they wouldn’t clock her secret attempt to push the plate over the edge of the table, “Killing smaller things than me. I like to play with them and watch them scream while they die. It makes me feel good.”

  Jaycee wiped his mouth and took a sip of his water. The answer she’d given crept under his skin.

  “Then I bring the bodies home to pay for my food.”

  “Like a trophy?”

  “Atrophy? No, my muscles are strong.”

  “No, a trophy. Like a medal. For your owners? To show your appreciation?” Tripp asked.

  “Umm, no. The trophy, as you call it, is more like a pat on the head that they’ve done well.”

  “Hmm,” Tripp poked his food in deep thought, “Did you ever have a mommy and daddy? Siblings?”

  “My brothers and sisters can look after themselves. My real dad tried to kill us. I hate him. I hope he’s dead.”