Star Cat The Complete Series

by Andrew Mackay

  Jamie took the buds from Tony’s hands and slipped them in his ears. He lifted the stick and thwacked it against the pad.

  BOMPH.

  “Oww,” Jamie yanked the plugs out from his ears.

  “Bit too loud, huh?” Tony pointed at the slider on the side of the sticks, “Just turn the volume down.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  The impressive drum kit meant the world to Jamie. He’d all but destroyed his a few of years ago in an attempt to ‘find out what made it bang’, as he described it. He loved to bash things. Why not create a cheerful tune in the process, he thought.

  He felt life was complete now that he had a new drum kit. Tony and Emily were happy for him.

  Jolene toddled over to the table and helped herself to some of Jamie’s birthday cake. Her hands scooped up some icing. Most of it went over her face rather than in her stomach.

  “Jojo,” Emily said. “Please. Stop doing that.”

  Jamie giggled to himself as he banged away at the drum.

  Da-da-da-dummm…

  Jolene, Emily, and Tony couldn’t hear what Jamie was playing. He’d heard the piece of music throughout his life. A fan of ancient classical music (as it was known) his mother used to play the likes of Beethoven, Mozart, and Tchaikovsky to him as a very young boy. She didn’t seem to bother doing the same with his younger half-sister, Jolene, though. He put it down to a change of influence now that his biological father had passed away.

  Jamie smiled at Tony as he continued to whack the drum skin at full pelt. Like his real father, Tony seemed to be fitting in nicely. His mother seemed much happier.

  Something was missing, though - a feline keepsake she bestowed on him shortly before his father died. She, the gorgeous ball of orange fluff who should not be named, for fear of reminder of what they had done.

  Jamie bashed the drum panels. He felt a tingling sensation crawl up his left forearm.

  Boom-boom-boom… he continued playing, using the kit’s synthesizer rhythm track to keep him in tune.

  Beep-beep-beep. The ink on his forearm became visible as his sleeve rode up to the crook of his elbow.

  The ink on his forearm swirled around his skin and formed three flashing dots.

  An Individimedia call from someone unknown to him.

  He looked up from behind the kit and saw Emily spoon feeding his sister. Tony pinched his thumbnail and removed it from his hand. He placed it on the table and snapped his fingers.

  The thumbnail projected a holographic news report above the table. A top-down view of Santiago Sibald looking up at the lens, standing by a purple SUV. Its fender hanging from the front, it had hit a tree and the occupants had fled.

  Swarms of STPD officers surrounded the scene.

  “Earlier reports from a witness who wishes to remain anonymous recounts that the vehicle had been commandeered by a bunch of cats?” Santiago looked at his wrist and shook his head, “No. That can’t be right—”

  Glenn, the witness, appeared in silhouette on the screen. He addressed the interviewee in a state of shock, barely able to form a sentence.

  “I-It was w-w-weird,” Glenn burped. “Cats everywhere, I tell ya. They made the man s-stop the c-car and then jumped inside an’ drove off, yonder.”

  “You’re saying cats did this?”

  “Yah-yup,” the silhouetted figure threw his hands into the air, “Sure as I’m standin’ here, my f-friend. One of them was real ugly, like, with a long-ass body and stupid pointy ears. That one acted all dead in the middle of the freeway.”

  Jamie covered his forearm and, much like Tony was wont to do on most occasions, slipped out of the front room without being seen.

  Jamie hopped into his bedroom and jumped onto his bed. He analyzed his wrist and wondered whether he should answer the call or not.

  His arm kept buzzing, begging for attention. A final look at the bedroom door was all he needed. He planted the sole of his boot on it and pushed it shut.

  SCHWUMP.

  A poster for USARIC’s Star Cat Project Finals featuring Bisoubisou, Jelly, and Suzie Q-Two hung on the back of the door. Jamie took a deep breath and smeared the three inked dots along his forearm.

  “Hello?” he whispered.

  “Is this Jamie Anderson?” a stern-sounding female’s voice radiated from the pinpricks in his arm.

  “Yes.”

  “No, it’s no good. I can’t see you,” she said, “Look, I’ll—”

  “—My mom and dad won’t allow me to visualize. I’ll get in trouble.”

  “That’s okay. We know what you look like. Listen, there’s nothing to be afraid of, okay? We’re the good guys.”

  “What? What do you mean don’t be afraid?”

  “Hang on,” the voice cut off.

  Jamie shook his forearm. The ink sprawled over the skin on his forearm and formed the face of a woman’s head. Featureless, it moved just enough to suggest the woman was producing a live feed.

  “Do you see me?”

  “Yes,” Jamie folded his legs and pushed himself against the wall, out of view of the door, “Look, I can’t talk to you. I’m not supposed to speak to strangers.”

  “I know about Jelly, Jamie.”

  “You know about—” Jamie thought twice about his reaction. On the cusp of giving the game away, he decided to change tact, “What about Jelly? What do you want?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Anderson. That Individimedia broadcast Handax sent out. He said Bisoubisou never made it on Opera Beta. If she didn’t go, then who did?”

  A pang of terror ran down Jamie’s spine. He’d been busted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  “—Shut up, kid.”

  Jamie swallowed hard and drew the curtains shut, “Okay?”

  “Where’s Jelly right now?”

  “She’s, uh,” Jamie looked around his bedroom for an excuse. The USARIC poster didn’t help. The scattered pictures of his family and Jelly were too distracting. Jamie thought on his feet and lied, “She’s at the medician’s.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, she got, uh, cat flu.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, I mean it, she’s—” Jamie’s voice croaked as he began to tear up. He knew he was in trouble.

  “—Don’t lie to me, Jamie. I know those scumbags at USARIC brought you and your mom back and had you hand Jelly over. She’s not been seen since. Go on, deny it.”

  Jamie blubbed, “Please leave me alone—”

  “—No, shut up. And don’t tell your mom or dad, or anyone, about this call. Do you understand what I’ve just said?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  “Good,” the dark figure tilted its head on Jamie’s arm and took on a more affable posture, “Listen, Jamie. We’re not the bad guys. I know it’s hard to believe right now. We’re going to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Yes. You want to see Jelly again, don’t you?”

  Jamie wiped the tears from his eyes. His left wrist’s Individimedia panel caught most of the liquid.

  “Ugh. What’s the squelching noise?”

  “Sorry,” Jamie sniffed and returned to his forearm.

  “Opera Beta went missing. USARIC are sending up a vessel to go and find them. You remember a guy named Handax, right?”

  Images of a carry case containing Jelly flooded into Jamie’s mind. Before long, a man in his twenties with blue hair came to mind.

  “Yes, he gave us Jelly.”

  “You saw his broadcast, didn’t you? Everyone did.”

  “Yes.”

  “They set free a bunch of felines at USARIC. Most of them were caught. It’s all over the news.”

  “I know, I saw something just now—”

  “—That’s not important right now. What is important is that you tell the truth. Did Jelly go to Saturn in Bisoubisou’s place? Yes or no?”

  Jamie closed his eyes and wiped his face. The woman was serious and seemed genuine.

  “Yes, she d
id.”

  “I knew it,” her voice filtered through his wrist, “Thanks for confirming, Jamie—”

  “—But we swore we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “It’s okay. We’re not anyone. That’s all we needed to know. Goodbye.”

  “Hey, wait,” Jamie interrupted, demanding an explanation, “Who are you?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know. If anyone asks and you genuinely don’t know, then you and your family are safe,” she said. “There’s going to come a time soon when people will know Jelly went in Bisoubisou’s place. And when that time comes, the media and others are going to hound you for answers. If that happens, USARIC could act, and no one wants that for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You and your family must tell the media that you didn’t know.”

  “You mean, like, lie?”

  “Yes, we mean like lie.”

  “We?”

  “Damn,” the woman cleared her throat and lowered her voice, “Jamie, so you know Opera Charlie is launching in the next few days. To go and look for Opera Beta?”

  “No.”

  “Well you do now. Charlie’s mission is to destroy Beta. Kill everything. The crew are all sick.”

  “What do you mean sick?”

  “Ugh, I can’t explain. One of our team is undercover on the Charlie mission—” the woman paused, hesitantly, “I can’t talk. I have to go.”

  “But wait—”

  “You’ll hear from us again. Stay sharp, kid.”

  The head shape on Jamie’s forearm stretched into three separate lines. The connection disabled, leaving Jamie on his bed, alone and concerned.

  USARIC Training Compound

  Cape Claudius, South Texas, USA

  A man in his early twenties approached the weapons bench. An selection of firearms lay on the table - the familiar K-SPARK shotgun and Rez-9 among them. A range of grenades and utilities lined its outer edges.

  The man clenched his gloved fists. On the side of his arm he clocked the USARIC logo along with his name - A. Hughes.

  Beyond the bench lay a makeshift walkway, resembling a movie set. He adjusted his visor and flicked the lever down by his ear.

  Bzzzzz.

  The headgear whirred to life, “Heads Up Display activated,” a friendly female voice advised, “Okay, Alex. You have ninety seconds to breach the perimeter and take out all the hostiles. It’s up to you which weapon you choose."

  The contours of each firearm lit up as he scanned the table. A medium-sized semi-automatic caught his attention, “I’ll go with the D-Rez.”

  “Ah, nice,” she said. “Lightweight, versatile. Are you much of a run-and-gun?”

  “Not really. I prefer precision.”

  “Fifty compact rounds per magazine. Slider indicates three-shot burst, then five, and finally outright automatic.”

  “I’ll go with the three,” Alex knuckled the lever right up and inspected the side of the firearm. He grabbed a pair of flash grenades and hooked them around his belt.

  “Remember. Don’t point your gun at the people you work with. Or any of the civilians.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  The woman giggled through his headgear, “That’s the spirit. Approach the start position, please.”

  “Understood.”

  Alex stepped up to the red line on the floor, ready to breach the first building.

  “You look kinda cute in this get-up, by the way,” the woman said. “Fancy a drink after the show’s over?”

  “No, thank you,” Alex clutched the grip on the gun and scanned the first room, prepared for battle, “Let’s do this.”

  “Record time is ninety point seven seconds.”

  “I’ll do it in eighty-five.”

  The room’s lights snapped on revealing a variety of desks, chairs, a screen, and a table.

  “Here we go. Standby.”

  CLUNK-CLICK-BZZZZ.

  “Go, go, go,” her voice threatened. “Tango to the right.”

  A holographic bad guy jumped up from behind the computer desk and aimed his rifle at Alex, who slid across the floor and fired three bullets.

  POP-POP-SCHPANG!

  Two in the chest, and the final one in the head. The bad guy hit the deck, dead.

  “You’re on your own, now, Hughes.”

  “Understood.”

  Alex rolled onto his side and flipped himself to his feet. The room was eerily empty, “Left wall, secure.”

  “Watch your six, good buddy.”

  Alex spun around and blasted another bad guy aiming his weapon at him. He slid across the table as the bad guy opened fire on him.

  Sections of the wall burst apart behind Alex as he reached the other side of the table and yanked on the trigger.

  BLAM-BLAM-SCHPANG!

  The bad guy recoiled from the bullet and smashed against the wall.

  “Good going, Hughes,” the woman said. “Get out of there. Detonator set to five seconds.

  “On it,” Alex kicked himself to his feet and made for the door.

  “Four… three… two…”

  Alex launched himself through the door frame and threw his elbows in front of his face.

  “One… and that’s boom time.”

  He rolled across the floor and kicked the door shut.

  KA-BLAAAAAAAM!

  The door contained the blast. Its frame shunted around against the impact. The HUD display showed the timer rocketing forward - 15:09.

  “Go, go, go,” the woman said into his headset, “You got family at home?”

  “Just a girlfriend,” Alex pushed himself away from the wall and stepped back, spying the length of the corridor, “Walkway secure.”

  He paced along the barren corridor. Two doors faced each other on each wall at the end.

  “Be careful, Alex,” she said. “One of those rooms is full of civilians.”

  “Got it,” Alex turned a dial on the side of his visor. The dimmed image of the walkway turned a fussy yellow, pink and green.

  “Switching to thermal imaging,” Alex said. He held the D-Rez in both hands and moved forward with stealth.

  “You think thermal imaging will help if you discover creatures in space?”

  “I’ll give it a try,” Alex pressed his back to the wall.

  Oxade and Nutrene watched Alex work from the viewing gantry twenty feet above the set up.

  “Who is this guy, anyway?” Nutrene asked, paying particular attention to the young man’s trim physique.

  Oxade caught her ogling and knocked her elbow, “Are you checking him out?”

  “What? No,” she protested under her breath. “It’s just that—”

  “—Just that you want to give him some extracurricular training, right?”

  “Don’t talk lessense, you dummy,” Nutrene felt her shoulder and went beet-red.

  Oxade smirked and thumped the railing, “USARIC shipped him over from Minneapolis-Two yesterday. Fresh blood from the American Star Fleet.”

  “Oh, he’s fresh, for sure.”

  Alex unclipped a flash bang grenade from his belt and tossed it into the left-hand room.

  BOOM!

  A shower of white light exploded through the crack in the door. He pushed into the room with his weapon drawn. Ten holographic actors acting as bad guys and civilians staggered around within his HUD.

  “Be careful, Alex. Not all of them are tangos.”

  The white mist evaporated to reveal two bad guys with guns. Alex swung his firearm around and popped both in the head with great expediency.

  “Two down,” he turned around and was about to shoot a woman in a red dress. She held up her arms and begged for mercy.

  “Please don’t shoot.”

  "Get down."

  Alex spotted a man grab the woman from behind. His heads up display formed a red line around the bad guy’s body, indicating a fresh target.

  The man grabbed the woman in his arms and pushed the barrel of his gun against her tem
ple, “Put the gun down.”

  “Unhand her and put your arms up.”

  “That’s fifty seconds, Alex,” the female voice advised, “Be careful.”

  Alex held his arms out and focused on the wall. A line of traveling dots projected a recoil off the wall and straight into the side of the man’s head.

  The man threatened to shoot the hostage, “Put your gun down—”

  THRAA-TAT-A-TAT-SCHPLATT!

  Alex let out a burst of three bullets. One by one, they ricocheted off the wall and punched through the bad guy’s chest, neck and forehead, respectively.

  The civilian woman ran across the room and went to hug Alex, “Thank you.”

  “No time for that now, Alex,” Oxade chuckled from the viewing gallery, “Keep moving, my friend.”

  “Hostile down,” the female’s voice into Alex’s headgear, “Hostage deactivated.”

  The woman vanished completely, leaving Alex to back himself toward the door, “Area secure.”

  “Go, go, go.”

  Alex bolted out of the room and approached the adjacent door. He slapped the lever down on the side of his D-Rez and aimed it skyward.

  “Be careful here, Alex. Don’t get trigger happy.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  The timer on his HUD read 65:15, “Come on, let’s do it.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  BAMMM!

  Alex booted the door open and slid across the floor, aiming his gun at the far wall.

  A long metal bridge snaked out to a door fifty feet away. His feet and legs lifted away from the bridge floor.

  "Not so tough now, are you big guy?" she laughed into his headgear, "Let’s see how your firearm works in zero gravity."

  "Holy shi—"

  The circular room rocked to life and revolved around him. Severely disorienting Alex as he clung to the rails. His feet lifted above his head as he aimed his gun at the far door.

  “Look at all the pretty stars, Alex,” she attempted to put him off, “Can you defend yourself when push comes to shove?”

  “What?”

  BOP!

  A disgusting alien creature thumped him on the back, knocking him across the spinning tube. The lights from the stars swished around, revealing the creature’s six eyes. Two skewers shot out from its body and clawed at Alex as he propelled himself from the metal bridge.