Star Cat The Complete Series

by Andrew Mackay

  Grace and Sierra looked up at the ceiling. A knocking noise came from the top of the outside of the van.

  “What was that?”

  “I dunno,” Sierra ran to the front of the van and looked through the windshield, “Rana, is that him?”

  “Yeah, hold tight. We’re about to embark.”

  Rana yanked the stick shift into neutral and applied pressure to the brake.

  The force of the van slowing to a halt made the four escaped cats slide along the ground.

  BLAM-BLA-AA-AM-BLAM.

  Three giant holes exploded along the far wall of the van as it slowed down. The last bullet nearly took Grace’s head clean off.

  The cats wailed and screamed. The white bobtail raced towards the back of the van and jumped out.

  Grace ran after it as it jumped out, “No, don’t—”

  WHUMP.

  The white bobtail hit the speeding road paws-first and tumbled onto her side.

  “Miew.”

  Two cars swerved out of the cat’s path and slammed into the wall.

  CRASSSSSH.

  The white bobtail rolled to her paws and bolted after the van, “Miew.”

  Rana yelled into her headgear, “Siyam, get back in the truck and start the engine.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Siyam was about to run back to the driver’s door when he saw a USARIC mercenary clinging to the side of the van in the distance, “Uh, Rana?”

  “What is it?”

  “You got a merc on your wing.”

  “What?”

  He climbed into the driver’s side and slammed the door shut, “I’m too far away, just get in.”

  “What do you mean I’ve got a merc on my wing?” Rana looked in her mirror and saw a USARIC merc climb the side of the van and hoist himself onto the roof, “Oh, crap. Grace?”

  “What?”

  “There’s a bad guy on the damn roof.”

  The van sped along the road and approached the back of the truck.

  Grace looked up at the interior of the van and heard footsteps trample across the top.

  She looked down in haste and pointed at the three remaining cats, “Sierra, use your powers of persuasion to keep these little critters at bay.”

  “What?”

  “Bad guy on the—”

  BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

  Three bullets tore through the roof and nearly hit the cat’s cages.

  “Meow.”

  “Whoa,” Grace ran to the doors, “I’ll take care of this bastard.”

  Sierra held out her hand, “No, don’t go out there, you’ll compromise us—”

  Too late.

  Grace landed on the road and aimed her gun at the top of the van as it sped toward the truck.

  “Hey, asshole,” she roared at the USARIC merc keeping his balance on top of the van. “Get down.”

  “Huh?”

  He turned around to discover the top of the truck whizzing towards his face, “Oh, shi—”

  He flung himself off the roof and dove, feet first, to the road below.

  Rana drove the van up the truck’s ramp and slammed on the brakes.

  “Okay. We’re in,” she said into her headgear and looked over her shoulder at Sierra, “How are our guests holding up?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Good,” Rana booted the van door open and climbed out, “Siyam, step on it. There’s a chopper up there, but I think we’ve fooled it. They can’t see us down here.”

  “Okay, here we go.”

  The truck fired up and began moved forward.

  Sierra jumped out the back of the van and landed on the floor, “Hey, what about Grace?”

  “What about Grace?”

  “We can’t just leave her there.”

  VROOOOOOOOOM.

  The truck sped up.

  Rana ran to the back of the van and peered through the doors. The three escaped cats sneered at her amid the screeching and howling from the others in the cages.

  “We can’t compromise the mission. There were always going to be casualties in this war.”

  The USARIC pilot pushed the gears forward in the chopper to the other side of the underpass.

  A few vehicles emerged from under it, along with the truck.

  “Do you see the van?”

  “No, no sign of the van,” the pilot looked at his arm and winced. Grace’s bullet had caught him good and proper.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you bandaged up,” the co-pilot said. “This is Vantara in Metal Hawk Three. Be advised, the marked van is in underpass sector twelve on I-608. All units to attend. I repeat, all units to attend.”

  The pilot squinted at a small white thing darting out from the other end of the tunnel.

  “Is that… a cat?”

  The white bobtail looked up at the helicopter and hissed. It turned around and shot off into the trees at the side of the freeway.

  Back in the underpass, Grace pointed her shotgun at the fallen USARIC mercenary, who crawled onto his knees and released his gun to the ground.

  “Hey, you,” she said, threatening to blow his head off. “Drop the weapon.”

  “Okay, okay,” he held out his arms and dropped his semi-automatic gun to the ground.

  “Now, remove your visor.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said remove your visor, asshole.”

  “Okay.”

  He pressed his palms to the side of his helmet and slowly lifted it off his head.

  A good-looking guy in his late twenties stared back at her, scared for his life.

  She licked her lips and threw him a cheeky wink, “Huh. You’re pretty hot.”

  “Huh?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Wh-what has that got to do with—”

  “—You nearly blew my Goddamn head off and killed those cats,” she shouted in a fit of pure rage, “Now, I ask again. What’s your name?”

  “Spencer,” he squirmed. “P-Please, you d-don’t have to d-do this—”

  “—Aww, I love it when hot guys squirm,” Grace sniffed, knowing her days - and seconds - were probably up.

  Stuck in the underpass amid all the vehicular carnage and fires, there was little chance of escape.

  Grace walked forward, training the end of her shot gun at his forehead, “There are three things I want you to know about me before this is all over.”

  “Wh-what?”

  A screeching announcement came from the radio on Spencer’s helmet, “All units, be advised. The marked van is currently in the sector twelve underpass, I-608.”

  Grace shrugged her shoulders and stopped a few feet away from her victim.

  “One, I don’t care if I live or die,” she said, as she cocked the shotgun with her right hand.

  KAT-CHUNK.

  She aimed down the sight, directly at his forehead.

  Spencer closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death, “Wh-what’s the second thing?”

  “The only thing that matters is the mission,” Grace clocked him looking over her shoulder at something.

  The end of her shotgun barrel pressed against Spencer’s forehead.

  She squinted at him and mimed a ‘pow’ sound effect.

  “Haha,” she stepped back and lowered the gun. “Only kidding.”

  “Whuh?” Spencer let out a sigh of pure relief.

  “Citizen,” a ferocious voice erupted a few feet behind Grace, “Put down the weapon. This is USARIC.”

  Grace didn’t have to turn around to know that hundreds of armed USARIC mercenaries had gathered behind her.

  She held her arms out at her sides and offered her surrender.

  The merc grabbed his mask and ran off in the direction of his colleagues.

  SWISSSH-SCHJUNT.

  Her dumb bomb slid up the length of her right arm and landed in her palm.

  No one saw it happen.

  Biddip-biddip-biddip.

  “I surrender,” Grace turned around and faced the approa
ching mercenaries.

  “Okay, good,” one of the mercs said as he moved forward with his armed colleagues. “Now, get down on your knees with your hands behind your head.”

  She lowered herself to the ground, obeying their orders, and gripped the grenade in her hand.

  Spencer moved in front of his colleagues, eager for an answer.

  “You said there were was a third thing?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Grace snapped out of the blue, confusing the mercs. She blew Spencer a kiss and a wink.

  “Duck.”

  Spencer jumped back, “Wha?—No—”

  All the mercenaries flung themselves to the floor.

  KER-BLAAAAAAMMMMMMMM.

  Grace exploded, killing herself, Spencer, the floored mercenaries - and most of the underpass structure.

  The chopper roared through the air and banked to the left as the underpass rocked and busted apart.

  “Jesus Christ, would you look at that,” the pilot gasped. “Look, look.”

  GROOAAANNN.

  The cement pillars buckled under the force of the explosion and busted out in all directions.

  Sections of the structure crumbled to the ground in a cloud of ash and rubble.

  “Ah, all units,” Vantara said into his talkie, “Metal Hawk Three. Advise you do not enter underpass at sector twelve. Over.”

  KEERRRR-SMAAAASSHH.

  The underpass broke apart and crashed onto itself, burying anything under it for good.

  The helicopter lifted into the air and flew off into the distance.

  RAGE’s truck shot along the freeway and into the dusk-laden horizon.

  Chapter 15

  Space Opera Charlie

  One hundred wolves raced along the dirt track created by the tank. The trail stopped at Opera Charlie’s Motary door.

  Snarl…

  The first wolf stopped and caught its breath. Its pupils adjusted to Saturn’s light bouncing off the spaceship’s ceramic exterior.

  It lifted its head and roared at the shattered airlock toward the front of the ship.

  A way in.

  The wolf walked around to the rest of the pack and howled into the night sky.

  The rest of the beasts growled and hollered in return, eager to tear something apart.

  The first wolf swished its tail around, clenched its claws and dug up a mound of dirt. The event taking place in the sky got to him. A pink and purple ball of fire screeched across the stars, making its way towards Saturn.

  No sooner had the wolf clapped eyes on the celestial event taking place above its head than a shadow crept over his face.

  The shadow of their master, Mastazita.

  He stomped forward, raised his forearms out wide and let out a deathly roar of pain.

  The wolves hung their heads and whined.

  Three of Mastazita’s claws folded into his paw, leaving the equivalent of an index finger pointing directly at the airlock on Opera Charlie.

  The wolves lowered their grunts and heard some commotion emanate from behind the walls of the ship.

  “Muh, Muh,” it tried. “Shta-Zee-Tah.”

  Grrrrr.

  The wolves’ snarled with rage and ravaged the rocks and dirt underneath their paws, ready to attack.

  One by one, they whipped their tails around and prepared to launch themselves.

  SCHPATTT.

  A stabbing sound came from behind the doors, coaxing the wolves forward.

  Then, the ship rocked for a split-second.

  BAMMM.

  A large, fleshy spider thing slammed against the door. The wolves lifted their paws in preparation to attack.

  SCHWIPP.

  The outer airlock hatch slid up, revealing the Shanta and a seven-foot cat-like woman grappling with it.

  “SCREEEEEEE,” the Shanta struggled and choked.

  Jelly yanked the inner airlock hatch down, and took a final glance at the Shanta, “Go to hell.”

  She stepped back into the ship with great urgency, having not seen the crowd of wolves outside.

  The Shanta shuffled around and squirmed. Its time was nearly at an end, and the monster seemed to know it.

  SCHLAM-SCHLAM-SCHLAM.

  It pressed its twelve limbs against all four walls like a fleshy cobweb.

  The wolves weren’t fooled. Whatever this thing was, it needed killing - and fast.

  HOWWWWWLLLL.

  Mastazita took in a lungful of air, threw his arms down and screamed at the sky. An order to attack.

  The wolves wasted no time. They bolted toward the airlock door, hopping over one another, ravenous for blood.

  One by one they got closer and closer to the busted outer hatch.

  The Shanta’s fleshy midsection pushed forward and tried to stop the wolves from approaching it.

  “SCREEEEEE—”

  The first row of wolves bolted closer and lifted their paws, ready to tear and chew the Shanta apart.

  As Mastazita stormed after them, everything seemed to slow down to a crashing halt.

  At the very last second, he knew something was wrong. He waved his right arm in a desperate attempt to call the wolves back.

  ROOOOAAAAARRRR.

  The Shanta’s limbs weakened. It slumped down the sides of the walls and crumpled to the ground.

  Pitch darkness.

  The howling from the wolves deafened Mastazita. He couldn’t see anything with his eyes, but the sounds from all directions painted a picture in his brain.

  A row of ghostly-white outline of paws and bodies etched across the darkness in his mind.

  The contours of rocks fizzed to life as he took his last step. White lines exploded and formed the shape of his arm as he pulled it away from his face.

  Schwoooooooo—

  The sound of a prolong sucking occurred in his left ear, forming the shape of a door close to where the shapes of the wolves were headed.

  “Nuuuuh—”

  KERRAA-BAAAAAAAAMMMMM.

  Mastazita lifted his paws in front of his face. The gravity shift around his head was intense. His body weight shifted from his forehead, through to his shoulders, then abdomen, and finally his feet.

  The contours spread apart like grains of sand and vanished into the darkness amid the howls of anguish from the wolves.

  A wave of incredible heat flew up Mastazita’s body, and then—

  SCHLAAAAAAMMM.

  The rocks on the ground punched him in the chest and face.

  He’d landed on the ground, after being pushed into the air. The roar from the burning hammered into his ears, represented by a pulsing white light in the darkness of his vision.

  Mastazita shook his head and pushed himself to his hind legs. He couldn’t see it, but the airlock had exploded. A furnace of burning stone, rock, and parts of the ship roared fifty feet away from him.

  A distinct scent of burning flesh and fur drifted around the ground.

  Sniff, sniff…

  Mastazita knew that death surrounded him. His fallen children roasted away in the blaze.

  Scores of obliterated wolves lined the ground, slumped over the rocks. He assessed the ground with his hind paw and felt a squishy, smoldering body beneath his claws.

  “Ugghhh,” Mastazita growled among the remaining whines and whelps from those wolves who hadn’t been killed in the blast.

  Five of them raced up and pawed at Mastazita’s injured leg.

  Grrrrrrr…

  He marched towards Opera Charlie and slammed his paws together, ready to tear the vessel apart…

  Primary Airlock

  Opera Charlie - Level One

  Jaycee held his broken jaw in place with his battered hand. The connectors in his face sparked up a storm, forcing his head up and down.

  He’d certainly seen better days.

  Sitting against the wall, he tried to keep upright. His right leg spasmed on the ground, disabled from the rest of his internal endoskeleton.

  Most of his internal wiring sprouted from several bus
ted sections on his torso, legs, and arms.

  “M-My b-battery,” Jaycee slammed the back of his head against the wall. His right eye tilted up to the ceiling and tried to focus on Jelly, who towered over him.

  His jaw swiveled left and right, producing a small, electronic voice, “B-B-Baaaa-aaa-aaterry level, crih-crih-critical.”

  Jelly watched him shift his head around and splutter.

  Blink-blink.

  The mechanics in his eyelids closed, and reopened on Jelly. No longer a woman or cat, she’d turned into a tiger.

  “Juh-juh…”

  “Shut up,” she growled from the pit of her stomach.

  “Muh-muh,” Jaycee tried, “I’mma m-mess—”

  “—I said shut up.”

  Any utterance she offered was underscored by an inner growl of sheer murder. Jelly raised her right leg and showed him the sole of her boot.

  “You murdered my child.”

  “Nuuuh,” Jaycee’s head twisted to face the boot, “P-Please do not—”

  SCHLLAAAAAAMMM.

  The boot careened towards his face and crushed it against the wall.

  His cheekbone shattered and sparked as it crunched against his metallic skeleton.

  “Bwuurrggghhh,” Jaycee groaned as the boot released his face from the wall. The metal cheek plate on the right side of his head clanged to the floor.

  Jelly took a deep breath and tried her best not to emote. She just needed to finish Jaycee off and she’d be at peace.

  “Nuh-nuh,” Jaycee’s jaw yawned and closed up, hanging from the side of his face, “N-No m-m-m-more—”

  Jelly winced and tried to shake away her murderous instincts, but it was no use. She grabbed Jaycee’s exo-suit shoulders and lifted him up the wall in a fit of apoplectic rage.

  WHUMP.

  She slammed him to the wall and lifted him up, so his face lined with her own.

  Jelly roared right into his eyes and leaned back, ready to deliver a fatal blow.

  “Nuh-nuh-nuh,” Jaycee tried, the power draining from his eyes.

  Jelly rammed her forehead into Jaycee’s nose. The trajectory of her head butt pummeled the back of his head into the wall, cracking the rock solid surface.

  SCHLAAAAAAAM-CRACK-KK.

  The synthetic skin on Jaycee’s face busted away from the metallic facade covering his endoskull.