***
When I was a little boy all I ever wanted to be was an astronaut.
I used to spend every waking second looking at the stars and the constellations. Before they became USARIC, the Space Agency used to show reports on Individimedia about what they found.
I remember when they found the first flat surface planet in Andromeda Twelve. It was so exciting to me. Imagine, a planet that wasn’t like the shape of a giant soccer ball.
A place where, if you traveled far enough, you could fall off the edge of the universe.
My second love was my cat. I don’t remember her name because it was so long ago. One day, we had to put her down because she was sick. The medician said she was in a lot of pain and I didn’t like it. We never got to see the medician inject her and I liked that I never saw it.
I don’t know about other people. When I think of things that happened in the past, I see them as images.
Right now I can see a bright new star in the night sky. It’s not far from the Great Bear. You know it. The arrangement of stars that looks like a frying pan with a wonky handle.
I remember my teacher asked me one time, “Tripp, why are you so in love with space?”
I couldn’t answer her.
Why do I love space so much? Because out there are billions upon billions of stars. The law of averages says there must be at least a million other lifeforms out there.
There has to be, right?
I don’t regret my decision to put my health, family, and friends behind my first, true love.
Does that sound selfish?
The only thing I would have regretted was indecision…
***
Jaycee’s thumbnail lay on the floor. It projected an audio waveform in the middle of the Fit Room.
He wiggled his gloved fingers on his right hand, taking an unusual interest in their operation. He lifted his head and looked at the soft padding stretched across the wall.
The USARIC logo stretched across the padded canvas.
He clenched his fist and turned to the projection. As he spoke, the waves rose up and down, recording his voice.
“My name is Jaycee Nayall, USARIC weapons and armory. I hope those in charge can hear what I’m about to say.”
THWACK!
Jaycee’s fist connected with the ‘U’ in USARIC. He pulled his arm away and spun his wrist three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, resetting for another hit.
“When I was drafted into the Opera Beta program I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for. If I’d known what I know now, I would never have gone.”
Jaycee lifted his fist and threw it against the padding with all his might.
SLAMM!
The plastic flaked out upon impact. The wall shuddered a second later.
“We’ve made a discovery,” Jaycee twisted his hand around and took one step back. The “S” in the logo seemed to laugh and taunt him, “We don’t know the full facts, yet. But know this. It’s a discovery far beyond anything any of us can comprehend.”
SCHLAMMM!
His punched the canvas so hard that it rocked the Fit Room.
“You can’t see this,” Jaycee moved back once again as the waveform slipped up and down, “But the noises you hear are me taking out my frustration on my employer, USARIC. One punch for every member of my crew that lost their lives. Every husband, wife, son, daughter… who are no longer around because of USARIC and their bottom line.”
THWOCK-SCHLAMM!
A furious double-punch, this time to the “A”.
“That’s for you, Maar Sheck. Two As in your name, and two extra special blows to your face. If you’re listening to this, just know that I want answers. And they’d better be damn good.”
Jaycee pulled his elbow back, ready to strike the “R”.
“And this one’s for Bonnie Whitaker. My friend and colleague who’s no longer around to ask you anything.”
Jaycee went to throw his fist at the canvas, when he heard a wallop coming from the other side of the door. He lowered his arm and squinted with confusion.
“Huh?”
He made his way to the door, “Stop recording.”
The audio waveform flat-lined and beeped.
“Save message?” asked the holograph.
“Yes, save and send. Now.”
***
Jaycee approached the crew quarters and spotted Tripp’s door was wide open.
“Hey, Tripp? Are you there?”
He peered inside and saw Tripp unconscious on the floor.
“Jeez,” he moved in and clocked Samantha and Rogan on the screen waiting for her husband to return to the screen. They were unaware of what had happened.
“Tripp?” she asked. “Where are you?”
Jaycee leaned into the tiny lens above the screen. The inset picture in the corner of the screen showed his face enveloped the whole square.
“Samantha?”
He crouched to the floor and slid his giant arms underneath Tripp’s. It took thirty seconds to lift his passed-out friend up to his feet - and another thirty to set him down on the chair.
“Jaycee,” Rogan beamed with delight, “You’re alive, too.”
“Nayall?” Samantha gasped. “Is that you? Where did Tripp go?”
He removed his right glove and felt Tripp’s neck with his fingertips.
“He passed out. Hey, Rogan. Look at you! You’ve grown into a handsome, young man.”
“Yes, it’s been years.”
“What happened, here?”
The seconds whizzed by as Jaycee adjusted his friend’s head against the back of his chair. “Healy? It’s okay. I think you passed out.”
Samantha held up her hands, shirking responsibility, “I don’t know. We were just talking and he vanished.”
Jaycee stood up and pointed to Tripp, “He must have fell—” he stopped talking when he saw Charley carry their daughter in his arms.
“Samantha? Who’s that behind you?”
Jaycee turned to the unconscious Tripp. Two and two slotted together in Jaycee’s mind, “Oh no.” He turned back to the screen and scowled at Samantha.
“It wasn’t my fault, Jaycee. What was I supposed to do?” she sniffed, “The wait was too much.”
Jaycee’s heart erupted with anger.
Samantha to turned from an exquisite angel into a selfish harridan in Jaycee’s eyes. It only took ninety seconds.
“God, I’m so sorry, Jaycee. The news must have broke his heart. But, please, you have to see it from my point of view—”
Jaycee scrunched his face and turned away, happy that the woman wasn’t in the room with him.
“Bitch.”
“—You spend close to five years without hearing a damn word,” she screamed, scaring Rogan from her arms, “And then Viddy Media goes wild with speculation. Tripp and the crew disappears. No oxygen. I’m sorry. I swear to you, Jaycee, we thought you were all dead—”
KER-SMASSSSHHH!
Jaycee‘s fist flew through the screen. The plastic exploded around his wrist as his elbow went through the frame. Samantha’s image frazzled and froze on the spot around his forearm.
He wrenched his arm out and flung the transparent debris away. The noise slapped Tripp out of his slumber.
“Wh-what’s g-going on?” Tripp yelped. He shifted in his chair and grabbed the armrests, “What happened?”
Orange sparks and a thick, black smog drifted away from the smashed screen.
“Technical problems.”
“What did the screen do to you?”
“Ah,” Jaycee walked to the door and did his best to change the conservation, “It looked at me the wrong way. You know my temper. What do you remember?”
Tripp blinked and stood up from the chair, recollecting what had happened, “I, uh, tried to call home. Waited ages for the connection.”
“Okay. What else?”
Tripp’s face lit up with joy, “I never got to say anything. But I saw my wife and son’s face
again.”
“Did you speak to them, though?”
“No, the connection must have gone down—”
“—You didn’t speak to them?” Jaycee reaffirmed, once and for all.
“No. Everything went dark.”
Jaycee held Tripp’s shoulder and took a deep breath, “Listen, don’t try to contact home until we get home. Okay?”
“Okay,” Tripp looked up at him with dogged, innocent eyes, “Why?”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
Tripp pointed at the smashed screen, “Of course I do. But can’t I just—”
“—Then just trust me on this, Healy. You know your family are alive and healthy. They know you’re alive. That’s all you need. Promise me you’ll drop it.”
“Okay? I promise.”
“Good,” Jaycee walked out of the quarters, leaving a thoroughly confused Tripp - and smoldering N-GAGE screen - in his wake.
Jaycee stormed along the walkway in a fit of rage. He thumped the walls a little too hard, “I swear to God, someone hand me USARIC on a plate and I’ll eat them for breakfast.”
He tried to calm himself down.
It was no use taking his frustration out on the ship, despite the fact that it belonged to a company that Jaycee perceived to be the enemy.
The USARIC logo angered him further.
Just thinking the Healy family revelation threatened to push him over the edge.
No sooner had Jaycee caught his breath than he heard a retching sound at the far end of the corridor.
BWUCK-BWUCK-KROITCH.
He lifted his head up and tried his luck, “Who’s there?”
No response.
The noises stopped. Jaycee knew he wasn’t hearing things.
“Ugghhhh,” came a very familiar voice, spluttering in pain, “I d-don’t feel too well.”
The voice waded down the corridor. It sounded like it belonged to Tor.
“Rabinovich? Is that you?”
Jaycee sprinted around the corner and skidded on his heels. He went for the Rez-9 on his belt, “Christ, Rabinovich. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Tor doubled-over the staircase rail and coughed up some bile.
SPLOT-SPLISH.
The pink liquid splattered against the floor a few levels down.
“Guuuuh,” Tor pushed his top half away from the railing and threw his head back, “Must have been the hyper-sleep. I really don’t feel too good.”
“Come here. Let me look at you,” Jaycee held the man’s face in his hands, “Show me your eyes.”
His thumbs pressed against Tor’s forehead and lifted his eyelids up.
Tiny streaks from Tor’s bloodshot eyes snaked across the whites of his eyes.
“You’re definitely ill. Where were you going?”
“R and R,” Tor said. “Get some water. Maybe have a lie down.”
“That’s a good idea. We need you fit for when Charlie docks with us.”
Tor hyperventilated in Jaycee’s arms and pushed himself away.
“Th-they’re c-coming to t-take us—”
Tor projectile vomited on Jaycee’s exo-suit.
“Ugh, that’s gross,” Jaycee bopped Tor on his shoulders with disgust, “Really?”
Tor spat a mound of pink liquid to the floor. He hugged himself and shivered up a storm, “I’m s-sorry, J-Jaycee,” he sniggered through his illness, silently happy that he’d taken some form of revenge on the man.
Jaycee didn’t spot Tor’s semi-delight, putting his puking down to a spell of extreme misfortune.
He scooped up the puke and flung it to the ground, “You know, not many people vomit on me and get away with it.”
Jaycee looked at the shuddering man buckled before him. He ran through the events of the past few days and, for the first time in their relationship, took pity on him.
“I’ll look the other way on this,” Jaycee cleared his throat and pointed at the staircase, “Be careful you don’t fall down the stairs on your way to R and R.”
“Yuh-yuh,” Tripp nodded and leaned against the railing.
GRUMBLE… BLUCK…
“Ooophhh,” Tor bent over and clutched his rumbling stomach, “Th-thanks, Jaycee.”
“I’m going to check up on Jelly and Wool. I’d stay near the bathroom if I were you.”
“That damn c-cat,” Tor grabbed the railing and staggered down the step, almost losing his footing, “She c-can’t be t-trusted, you know. She has a k-killer instinct. She’s b-bigger than us, n-now.”
Jaycee watched as Tor made his awkward and painful descent down the staircase.
He shook his head and moved away, muttering to himself, “The grass ain’t always greener, I guess.”
Medix
Space Opera Beta - Level Three
Jaycee entered Medix and saw Jelly sitting crossed-legged on her bed. Wool knelt behind her and brushed the cat’s hair with the golden comb.
“Yes, Jaycee?” Jelly waited for a reaction. “Are you getting ready to take out the trash?”
“Huh?”
Jelly smiled at him and pulled her head forward as Wool brushed her hair back.
Jaycee gripped the door frame, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you two were—”
“—What do you want?”
He covered the vomit marks on his exo-suit chest plate with his gloves.
“Just to tell you that Charlie is about to dock. Tripp wants us all ready to disembark.”
Wool watched the teeth of the comb slide through Jelly’s bountiful orange hair. Every knot that burst apart filled her with delight and distanced the stench of bile that had entered the room.
“What’s that smell?” Wool asked.
“It’s him,” Jelly flapped her tail and lifted an infinity claw at Jaycee, “He smells of sick.”
“Really?” Wool asked. “Have you been throwing up?”
“No, it wasn’t me—”
“—Can you leave us alone for a while, please,” Wool returned to Jelly’s hair.
“I’ll be in control if you need me. Sorry, again,” Jaycee stepped into the corridor and let the door to slide shut behind him.
“Bye, Jaycee,” Jelly winked at him and wrapped her arms around her bent knees.
SCHWUMP.
The tiniest sound of the comb’s teeth racing through Jelly’s hair dispelled the otherwise silent atmosphere.
Wool closed her eyes and moved her face closer to Jelly’s head. She pressed her nose against the strands and breathed in.
“Mommy? What are you doing?”
“Be quiet a minute, honey,” Wool’s heart filled with light as Jelly’s scent engulfed her lungs.
“Mmm,” Wool felt a tingle roll down her spine. She whispered so quietly, she barely heard herself speak, “God… I love you so much. I hope you know that.”
Jelly scrunched her face, wondering what was going on behind her. Playful to a fault and still childlike in her naivety, “Are we going home soon?”
Wool waited a second to allow the last moment of wonder to escape her body, “Yes, honey.”
“Why do you keep calling me honey?” Jelly asked. “Is it because I’m the same color as it?”
“No, hon—uh, Jelly. It’s because you’re sweet. It’s a term of endearment.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Wool resumed combing Jelly’s hair, “Don’t worry. Our friends from USARIC will be here any moment, now. We need to look nice so we can meet them, right?”
She removed the comb and ran her fingers along Jelly’s scalp and brushed past her left ear.
“Look at me,” Wool whispered.
Jelly purred and tilted her head to the side. Wool’s knuckle ran through the fur on her cheek and down under her chin.
“I like it when you do my chin.”
The half-cat’s wonderful pupils glowed a dark orange. A mesmerizing sensation tumbled around Wool’s chest like a pair of sneakers in a washing machine.
“God… look at
you, Jelly Anderson,” she muttered, utterly confounded by the girl’s beauty, “You’re so beautiful. I look into your eyes, and all I see is love.”
Jelly pulled a face of naive contrition, “I don’t know what to say when you say things like that.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Wool pressed her lips on Jelly’s forehead, “Don’t say a word.”
Jelly licked her lips as she received her kiss. She wanted an answer to a question that quickly formed in her head.
“Do you love me, mommy?” Jelly looked up at her with adorable dough-eyes.
“Yes, honey.”
“Are you in love with me?” Jelly asked without a trace of emotion.
“God, no,” Wool held her chest, troubled by the question, “Why would you think that?”
“Because when I was with Jamie, his mommy always said how in love with his daddy she was.”
“That’s not the same thing, honey.”
“Why?”
“Being in love with someone is…” Wool found the relatively easy distinction difficult to verbalize, “It’s not the same.”
“Why?”
Wool arrived at the simplest explanation available, “You wouldn’t want to have babies with me. Would you?”
Jelly didn’t say no. She was over the prospect of sharing a child with her new mommy. Wool, on the other hand, was seriously hoping Jelly would say no.
“Mmm. No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, thank God,” Wool exhaled and clutched at her heart, “But, uh, you do love your chicken pâté, don’t you?”
Jelly licked her lips and providing Wool with an inadvertent reminder of just how sharp her fangs were, “Mmm, chicken.”
“See?” Wool smiled. “The difference between being in love and love?”
Jelly shrugged her shoulders and planted her bare, furry feet on the floor.
“Not really. Sorry.”
“Never mind,” Wool tossed the comb on the pillow, temporarily disappointed with Jelly’s innate ability to learn the essentials but flatly unable to process anything past nuance.
Jelly turned around and held the bulge in her belly, “Do you think Pink Symphony was in love with me?”
“I don’t know. What makes you say that?”
The pink glow shimmied through her fur, “Because it gave me a baby.”
Star Cat The Complete Series Page 61
