Star Cat

by Andrew Mackay

Handax thought very carefully about his next statement. "If you could save those tortured creatures and stick it to USARIC’s nefarious practices by killing just one man… would you do it?"

  "Hell yeah," Denny smiled. "For that alone, sure, but also for sneaking Russians on an American vessel. Two reasons, one bullet."

  Leif and Moses nodded in quiet agreement, leaving their leader feeling invigorated and confident. Handax slipped on his balaclava and reached into his belt.

  "God help us all."

  One Hour and Fifty-Two Minutes Later…

  Hundreds of journalists crowded the entrance to USARIC’s headquarters. The podium remained empty. Tensions were high - almost as much as the scores of drones that buzzed around in the air vying for the best view.

  Dreenagh secured one of the best positions in cordoned-off press area. Five armed security guards lined the front of the podium, itching for the opportunity to take someone out.

  "Hey, you!" Dreenagh shouted to one of the guards. "When is Vasilov coming out?"

  "Stay back, please," he said. "We’re expecting him soon."

  Dreenagh looked up and saw her drone get knocked by another. "What the hell?"

  She turned to her left and clocked her silver-haired, suited-and-booted rival, Santiago Sibald. He shot her an evil wink. "Hey, Dreenagh."

  "Is that your drone attacking mine?"

  "Seems so," he said. "Your useless piece of junk doesn’t stand a chance."

  "Denny, do you read me?" Handax’s voice was stern, yet precise.

  "Yeah, man. I’m all set."

  Denny placed his index finger in his ear and grabbed the steering wheel. He’d set up his long-range rifle across the front seats. The barrel rested against the opened passenger window, perfectly lined-up to take a shot at USARIC’s frontage.

  "There’s literally thousands of people in the way," Denny said into his forearm. "It’s okay, though. I have a clear line of sight to the podium."

  "Good."

  "Are you in position?"

  Handax, Leif, and Moses moved to the corner of the building. Dressed as civilians in shirts and jeans, they blended into the furious crowd extremely well.

  "We’re about thirty meters from breach," Handax looked at the inked countdown on his forearm. "Twenty-six seconds into the speech. Then we’re on."

  "Understood," Denny’s voice came through earpiece.

  Handax nodded at two security guards standing in front of the side entrance to the compound.

  "There they are," he said to Leif and Moses.

  The emotion from the crowd doubled as the doors to the entrance opened. "We demand answers!" screamed a civilian from within the virus-like baying mob.

  Dreenagh slid her fingers across her forearm and moved her drone down to scan her face. "Hey, good people. Dreenagh Remix, here. It seems Dimitri Vasilov is making an appearance."

  A dozen officials exited the building protecting an elderly man. They ushered him to the podium, keeping an eye out for trouble from the crowd.

  "Yes, yes. If you look at your screens now, we can see that Dimitri Vasilov is on time and about to make a statement. It had better be good. As I stand here there are thousands of civilians demanding answers."

  The crowd erupted with anger. The armed guards grabbed their weapons and forced them back, threatening to attack.

  "Stay back! Stay back!"

  A large man screamed at the top of his lungs "USARIC scumbags!"

  "Stay back," a security guard threatened a man attempting to climb over the cordon. He lost his balance and fell to the ground in pain.

  "My God. It’s a jungle out here," Dimitri caught sight of the security guard burying the nozzle of his gun against the protester’s head.

  "Get up, you chunk of whale blubber," the guard screamed in the fat man’s face.

  "Please, d-don’t shoot me!"

  The fat man rolled onto his belly and surrendered in front of the restless crowd.

  "Ignore it, sir," advised one of the officials as he escorted Dimitri to the podium. "We have a schedule to keep."

  Handax kept an eye on the two armed guards by the side entrance to the building. They turned away to look at the commotion at the front of the building. “What’s going on over there?”

  "Okay, an unexpected gift, guys," Handax whispered to Leif and Moses. "Get ready. Looks like Vasilov is about to do his thing."

  The two guards at the side entrance stepped away from their markers, taking a keen interest in the fat man’s arrest.

  "Denny, can you see what we’re seeing?"

  "I’m too far away. It looks like a fight has broken out, or something."

  "Some fat guy did us a favor," Handax hopped over the cordon and waved Moses and Leif over to the door. "The guards at the animal compound have moved off. I don’t know for how long."

  "Okay, cool," Denny said. "I’m ready."

  "Good luck, everyone."

  A USARIC official stepped up to the podium and moved his face to the microphone. Feedback from the speakers wailed across the grounds, diverting everyone’s attention from the fat man. "Good people. Can I have your attention, please?"

  "We want answers!" the crowd roared back.

  "You’ll get them in due course. I would ask everyone here, including our respected journalists, to keep the fuss to a minimum."

  Dimitri scanned the blood-hungry mob from behind the safety of his security team. The guards weren’t messing around. A contentious moment such as this needed order.

  "Dimitri?" The official turned to the elderly man and offered him the podium. "Let’s get this over with as quick as possible.”

  "Oh, I intend to," Dimitri moved through the sea of officials and reached the microphones. The crowds whooped and booed at the sight of him.

  He leaned into the microphone. "Good people, please, allow me—"

  "U-SUCK-RICK!" U-SUCK-RICK!"

  A security guard quelled the noise by firing three shots into the air. "Shut the hell up." The crowd fell silent and obedient in an instant.

  Dimitri smiled and nodded at the guard. "Thank you."

  "No problem."

  Dimitri cleared his throat and reached for a sheet of paper from his blazer pocket. "I understand that you are all angry and want answers. I have a prepared statement and I will not be taking any questions."

  The angry crowd allowed the man to have his say, poised to scold him at the first opportunity.

  "I, Dimitri Vasilov, wish to deny any and all allegations of sabotage. To be clear, USARIC’s Infinity Claws in accordance with the Bering Treaty of 2085 stipulates that no Russian national may join any manned mission to space, or beyond. Despite our reluctance to these terms, the Russian contingent of USARIC had steadfastly agreed to them and continue to do so."

  "You’re talking lessense!" screamed a woman from the crowd.

  "Please, let me finish," Dimitri continued. "USARIC can confirm that we received communication from Space Opera Beta advising that two Russians had made themselves known amongst the crew. This was shortly before the disappearance of the ship, which also had the winner of the Star Cat Trials, Bisoubisou, amongst its crew members. Despite her Russian nationality it was deemed acceptable that she join the mission on account of her being the most suitable candidate—"

  Dimitri’s chest opened up in a haze of blood, sending him crashing to the ground.

  The crowd screamed bloody murder and dispersed in all directions, pushing into each other.

  A violent and desperate dash to escape the shooter - wherever he or she was.

  Civilians crushed against and over each other in a dash to get to safety. Men, women, and children. The security guards fired indiscriminately at the crowd, hoping to catch the perpetrator.

  The bleeding Dimitri lay on the floor, coughing and spluttering. The bullet had torn through his lungs.

  "My God, did you see that?" Dreenagh billowed into her forearm, fending off the stampede rollicking behind her. "Look, look. Dimitri Vasilov has been assa
ssinated!"

  Her drone buzzed around the podium along with many others, trying to get a decent view of the carnage.

  BAM!

  Two security guards fired at the wasp-like drones. Their bullets hit some of them, punching them out of the air.

  "Target eliminated," Denny’s voice came through Handax’s earpiece over the sound of a car engine firing up followed his instruction. "Over to you, guys."

  "Okay, go!"

  Handax, Leif, and Moses stormed over to the compound side entrance, pulling their balaclavas over their heads. The door was bolted shut but unguarded.

  "Moses, the two guards have moved off. I figure you have about thirty seconds."

  "I know, I know," he clamped a rectangular device across the door’s bolt. "I only need fifteen."

  Handax held his hand gun in both hands and watched the screaming crowd run off. No one spotted Handax and Leif keeping an eye out for security, much less the firearms in their hands.

  "Twenty-five seconds, Moses."

  "I’m going as fast as I can!" Moses lifted the flap of his device and punched in a three digit code: 4-5-7. "The code is in. Nearly there."

  Handax turned to Leif, keeping a tight grip on his gun. "Any sign of security?"

  "Not yet, no," Leif watched the ink on her forearm countdown from twenty. She scanned at the corner of the building. "It’s only a matter of time before they return. Hurry up, Moses."

  "Okay, five seconds till we’re in," Moses said, stepping back from the door. "Five… four…"

  Leif spotted the security guard walking around the corner of the building with his colleague. "Guys, we got company."

  The pair headed straight for them.

  “… three…”

  "They’re coming, they’re coming. We gotta get in now before we’re seen."

  “Two…” Moses finished through the earpieces, "One… and, we’re in business."

  The door didn’t unbolt. The tactical device failed and spluttered, slumping against the handle.

  "Damn."

  "What?" Handax turned to Moses. "What’s going on?"

  "It didn’t work."

  "Guys," Leif backed up to the two men, ready to threaten the guards who’d yet to clock them. "We’re seconds away from being spotted."

  "What do we do?"

  "You and your stupid technology!" Handax clipped Moses around the back of the head. Fast-thinking, he jumped out from the corner and made his presence known to the approaching guards. "Excuse me."

  "What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Leif ducked behind the door, unseen by the two guards as they approached her leader with their weapons drawn.

  "Hey, you! Put the gun down."

  Handax pointed his hand gun at them and smiled. Leif and Moses did the same.

  "No, I think you put yours down," Handax said.

  "We’re not messing around," one of the security guards kept his sights focused on Moses and Handax. "This is a private zone. Drop your weapons and remove your masks, or we will shoot you."

  Handax kept an eye on the compound door and aimed his gun at the second security guard. "No, I don’t think so."

  An abrasive stand-off occurred. The five of them pointed their weapons at each other.

  "I said lower your weapons, civilian!" screamed the first guard.

  "Okay, now!" Handax blasted the second guard’s weapon out of his hand.

  The first guard took a shot at Handax’s head. Leif barged against guard’s elbow, forcing the trajectory of the bullet away.

  "Oww!"

  She jumped onto his back and wrapped her legs around his waist, jamming the barrel of her gun against his temple. "Hey, sweetie. Gonna let us in?"

  Moses snatched the shotgun from of the security guard’s hands and strapped it over his shoulder. "Be quiet."

  Handax kicked the second security guard’s gun away and grabbed his collar, lifting him to his feet.

  "Wh-what are you d-doing?" the second guard asked in a state of near-paralysis, "Please d-don’t kill me."

  "We’re not the murderers, murderer." Handax kicked the guard toward the door. "Now, open the door."

  Leif removed the first guard’s helmet, revealing a reasonably attractive man underneath it.

  "Ooh, you’re hot."

  "Get off of me. Please."

  "Nah, I like it here," she giggled, squeezing his waist from behind with her thighs. "Nice of you to give me a ride."

  "Leif!" Handax shot her a look of disdain and waved his gun at her. "Stop flirting with the bad guys."

  "Aww," she climbed off his back and kept her gun held at his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying she wouldn’t blow his brains out. "Maybe after all this is over?"

  "Get off him. We have work to do," Handax thumped his captor on the back, "Open the door. Now!"

  "Okay, okay," the guard punched three digit code on the door where Moses’ device had failed. "I’m doing it."

  Handax pressed his finger to his ear, pacing around. "Denny, man? Do you read me?"

  "Uh, yeah?"

  "Where are you?"

  "Umm," came his voice, "I’m in the middle of threatening someone right now. Can I call you back?"

  A dozen USARIC security cars tore across the airfield behind Denny’s van. Their sirens wailed and screeched as they gained on him.

  "Sure, man,” Handax’s voice came through the car’s speakers. “ Just head back to base."

  "Very funny," Denny spun the steering wheel to the left, forcing his van to change trajectory. He swiped his forearm, cutting off the call and looked in the rear view mirror. “Come on, cretins. Let’s see if you can do one hundred.”

  The USARIC vehicles grew larger and larger as he stepped on the gas. 80 mph… 90 mph…

  "Come on, come on..."

  "Driver," a voice through a megaphone on top of an approaching USARIC SUV whirled through the air, "Pull your vehicle over. Now."

  "Nu-uh," Denny slammed on the gas with all his might. He rolled down the driver’s window and pushed out his hand, flipping his assailants the bird. "Come and get me, scumbags!"

  Denny’s van rocketed across the runway. In the distance, a three-quarter-built cone-shaped spacecraft loomed, facing upright within its scaffolding. On its side in giant, black lettering read Space Opera Charlie.

  "Huh?" Denny muttered in astonishment, tearing his concentration away from the airstrip. "Charlie?"

  BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

  The mercenaries in each USARIC SUV opened fired on Denny’s van as they zoomed toward the incomplete spacecraft. Dozens of bullets sprayed against the back doors. The left one bust open and flapped back and forth.

  105 mph…

  Space Opera Charlie got closer and closer as Denny kept his foot on the gas. He pressed his forearm and held his right ear, struggling to keep control of the rickety van. The vehicle wasn’t used to these kind of speeds.

  "Handax, you read me, man?" Denny yelled. "You read me?"

  "Yes, I read you—"

  "Charlie, man. Space Opera Charlie. I can see it with right now in the airfield," Denny slammed on the breaks, forcing his rifle to fly off its housing and crash against the windshield. "They’re after me. They’re going to kill me."

  "Denny? Where are you?"

  "The airfield, man. I had no choice, they were on to me the moment the bullet hit Vasilov’s left lung."

  The van screeched to a halt on the airstrip. Dozens of USARIC vehicles flew past, underestimating Denny’s brake application.

  A score of handbrake turns sent the speeding SUVs around, kicking dust into the air from under the tires. Some of them tumbled around and upside down.

  The remaining SUVs slammed on the brakes, releasing a SWAT-like team of USARIC officials from the back doors. They surrounded Denny’s vehicle with their automatic weapons drawn.

  "Driver, exit the car," came an furious voice from the megaphone atop the closest car. "We are not playing around. Exit the car now, or we will open fire—"

&nbs
p; "—Okay, okay!" Denny screamed and kicked open the driver’s door.

  "Stay where you are."

  Denny closed his eyes and placed his hands on top of his head. This was it. This was how it all ended for him, he thought. Mission accomplished and failed in one fell swoop.

  A tear rolled down his cheek as he awaited instructions from the one-hundred-strong USARIC army threatening to blow him off the face of the planet.

  "Driver, exit your vehicle with your hands behind your head. Once out, place your knees on the ground and hold your arms out. Failure to comply will result in execution."

  "Denny?" Handax’s voice indicated concern and haste. "What’s that noise?"

  "I’m sorry, man," Denny cried.

  An armed USARIC mercenary pointed his machine gun at the driver’s door. "Out."

  Denny stepped out of the van with his hands above his head, blubbering like a little girl. "I’m sorry."

  "Shut up and get on your goddamn knees," the mercenary kept his gun aimed at Denny as he fell to his knees on the tarmac. He looked at his colleagues and waved them to the van. "Check the vehicle."

  "Yes, sir."

  Three USARIC mercenaries ran over to the back of the van and tore off the doors.

  "You got some balls doing what you did," the mercenary said to Denny. "Why did you do it?"

  "D-Do what?" Denny tried to act all innocent.

  "Don’t act dumb with me, dickhead. You took out Vasilov and tried to escape. Did you really think you’d get away with that?"

  "I’m sorry."

  "And then you break into the airfield?" He chuckled with great enthusiasm and nodded up at Space Opera Charlie. "That takes guts. I’m looking forward to pulling them out of your stomach and strangling you with them."

  "I said I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me—"

  "—Oh my God!" One of the USARIC trio at the van jumped onto the tarmac and stepped back. "Get back! Get back!"

  Denny growled punched his left forearm, setting off a series of rapid beeps from the holes in his wrist. "Handax, I’m sorry. It’s game over."

  "Who are you talking to?" The mercenary grabbed the back of Denny’s shirt and hoisted him to his feet. "What’s going on—"

  "—Get back," screamed the USARIC van inspector, tumbling over his feet. "It’s gonna blow—"