Star Cat: The First Trilogy (Infinity Claws, Pink Symphony, War Mage)

by Andrew Mackay

  Thanks for your support! I’ll see you at the end of Star Cat 2!

  Andrew Mackay,

  Hampshire, UK

  (April 25th, 2018)

  ‘Star Cat: Infinity Claws (Book One)’

  Copyright © 2018 Chrome Valley Books

  Written by Andrew Mackay

  Edited by Ashley Rose Miller

  Cover design by Kveather

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (or somewhere in between), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements:

  For K

  Also to:

  My immediate family.

  The CVB Gang Members / ARC Street Team.

  Jolene Huber, the real captain of the ship.

  Jennifer Long, the “Bonnie” of stalkers.

  Adele Embrey, the “Androgyne” of proofing.

  The members and admins of 20BooksTo50K.

  Extra special thanks to authors Michael Anderle, Craig Martelle, Jonathan Brazee, Justin Sloan, Martha Carr, Charley R. Case, Amy Duboff, Sarah Noffke, Dominque Mondesir, and JN Chaney.

  This book is dedicated to the memory of Mandy Reed. She passed away five days before this book’s release.

  A devoted mother, an exceptional wit and a loyal and voracious ARC reader.

  A “star cat” in every sense and one of my first champions.

  I will miss you.

  Up next: Star Cat 2… (sign up to the mailing list to be kept up-to-date!)

  Star Cat 2: Pink Symphony

  Want your universe back? Too bad. It’s hers, now…

  Chapter 1

  How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Twenty days? Months? Years?

  No one knew.

  No one was even aware of what had happened.

  The least likely member of Space Opera Beta to ascertain what had happened was Jelly Anderson. Being a cat, she had no concept of space or time - you know, the things we value and live our lives by. The crew weren’t much help, either.

  Tripp Healy, the assumed captain of Opera Beta, lay unconscious across the flight deck.

  He was the first thing Jelly saw when she opened her eyes.

  The ship wasn’t moving. Everything was eerily silent by all accounts. Whatever happened when she’d forced the ship through the pink light show on Enceladus was beyond comprehension.

  It was either venture into Saturn’s moon or stick around to be rescued. With just seventy-two hours of oxygen? Sticking around would have prolonged the misery.

  If rescue ever came, of course.

  Even if it did it would have been five hundred days too late…

  The Control Deck

  Space Opera Beta - Level One

  Jelly rolled around on the floor and stretched her legs. She felt waves of muscular atrophy disappear within seconds. A quick lick around the mouth, and she was up and at ‘em.

  She trundled toward the flight deck and ran her face along Tripp’s heel in an attempt to catch his attention.

  He didn’t budge.

  "Meow," she cried and looked up at him. A couple of blinks squeezed a blob of liquid out from her right eye. It splashed to the floor next to the sole of her captain’s shoe.

  The communications console buzzed to life. It had been humming ever since she woke up a few moments ago.

  A familiar holograph appeared above her head. A book named Manuel, whizzing through its pages, acclimatized itself to the result of having gone through a wormhole - or a portal - whatever that thing was on Enceladus.

  "Meow."

  Manuel fluttered above her head and folded the outer edges of his pages toward her. "Greetings, Miss Anderson."

  "Meow."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Jelly yawned and revealed her fangs. For the briefest of moments it looked like she was screaming. She hopped onto the deck and nosed around the controls. Her infinity whiskers arrived at the yellow thruster lever. The same one that had blasted them through Saturn’s sixth largest moon and saved their lives.

  "What are you doing, Miss Anderson?" Manuel shifted across the deck for a better view of Jelly pawing away at the plastic handle.

  It didn’t move, still locked into thrust mode.

  "Meow."

  Jelly hadn’t meant to use it. She wanted to draw Manuel’s attention to the action she’d performed to rescue the ship.

  "Yes, very good," Manuel said. "I’m afraid I don’t know where we are."

  "Meow," Jelly turned to the expansive flight deck windshield expecting to see stars, or some evidence of where they were. Instead, she was greeted by a black canvas. They may as well have been shut inside a capsule for all the good the visuals were.

  Just then, a haze of pink dust seemed to dance from the right of the screen, like a blotch of paint thrown across a black bed sheet.

  The event perturbed Jelly. The effect looked creepy - as if an alien had spewed across the screen.

  In an attempt to gain some protection, Jelly sniffed around Tripp’s face. His right cheek lay across the panel, exposing the majority of his face. His nose twitched, covered, in part, by his pink tears.

  Jelly’s wet nose sniffled around his, causing his closed eyelids to flutter. Her action was enough to make him cough and splutter into a state of awareness.

  "What the—?" he said, opening his eyes and spluttering back to consciousness. "What’s g-going on?"

  "Good morning slash afternoon slash evening, Tripp," Manuel said.

  Tripp groaned and pressed his hands to the console. He pushed himself upright in the pilot’s seat and blinked, clearing the gunk away from his eyes. "What happened?"

  Manuel took a moment to reveal not very much at all. "In short, we have absolutely no idea."

  “Why did you say morning slash afternoon?”

  “In short, I have absolutely no idea what the time is, either.”

  "Jelly?" Tripp turned to the cat looking up at him and ran his fingers over her head. "Hey, girl. Are you okay?"

  "Meow."

  "Thank God," Tripp jumped out of his seat, intending to run over to the communications console. He lost his footing, stumbled forward and dropped to his knees like an infant. "Oh God, I don’t feel too well—"

  Manuel interrupted, "It’s better you take time to orient yourself. Please don’t rush."

  Tripp spat a lump of phlegm to the floor. It was all he could do to not spew everywhere. It wasn’t until he glanced at the gelatinous substance that he realized it was pink.

  “Huh?”

  The inebriating effects of having traveled through Enceladus had an adverse influence on his stomach.

  "My organs feel like pâté."

  "That’s quite common," Manuel said. "It’s something of a miracle your body wasn’t flung around the flight deck when we went through whatever that pink thing was."

  "Enceladus?" Tripp staggered to his feet and wiped his face. "We went through Enceladus?"

  "It would appear so."

  "My God," Tripp thumped the communications console switch.

  Jelly hopped after him and climbed onto the comms seat. Tripp stood back and inadvertently knocked the side of the chair with his hip. It sent Jelly spinning around - the result making her look like a dizzied, carnival fool.

  "Whoops," he caught the backrest and stopped the rotation, "Sorry, pet."

  "Meow."

  "Manuel?" Tripp waited for the screen to fire up. "Please tell me that Anderson and I aren’t the only ones left alive."

  "I’m afraid I cannot confirm anything. For some reason, I am unable to perform a geo-scan on Opera Beta. I can only see the content
s of the flight deck which, considering we’re already here, is rather useless."

  "You don’t say," Tripp spat, knowing anxiety was due any moment, “Why isn’t the comms deck working?”

  "I don’t know."

  "Come here, girl," Tripp scooped Jelly into his arms and examined her face. "Let me see you."

  Jelly stared into Tripp’s eyes as he cradled her. She seemed at peace. Nothing out of the ordinary about her face, body or demeanor gave rise to concern.

  "How are you, girl?"

  "Meow," Jelly exercised her infinity claws on Tripp’s sleeve.

  "Ah, da-da,” he protested, unhooked one of the sharp ends from the material, “Move your paw, girl."

  Whizz, whizz. She moved all four claws and her new thumb around, demonstrating that she was perfectly fine. "Meow."

  Tripp smiled, satisfied that she was uninjured and in proper operating order. Which was more than could be said for Manuel.

  "Good," Tripp released Jelly onto the chair and made for the door. "We need to find our friends and make sure they’re okay. Okay?"

  "Meow," Jelly seemed to agree.

  Tripp snapped his fingers over his shoulder as he reached the panel on the wall. "Manuel?"

  "Yes, Tripp?"

  "Do whatever you can to get the comms back on, please."

  "I’ll try my best, Commander."

  "Commander?" Tripp stopped and let out a sarcastic sigh. "I’m the captain, Manuel. After Katz perished with Alpha."

  "Oh," Manuel floated back, apologetically, "Is Captain Katz no longer with us?"

  "Are you serious right now?" Tripp remembered everything. He couldn’t believe Manuel wasn’t able to. A quick, informal diagnostic was required. "Manuel? Don’t mess around, tell me you remember."

  "I’m sorry, Tripp. I do remember now—"

  "—I don’t believe you. Don’t take this the wrong way, Manuel, but I want only quantitative responses. I need reassurance that you’re fit and operational. Now, tell me about Enceladus."

  Tripp suspected Manuel was buying himself some sympathy - or at least some time. "I can assure you that this isn’t necessary, Captain."

  "Are you disobeying a direct order?" Tripp asked, close to throttling the transparent image hovering in front of him. "Answer me."

  "No, Captain."

  "Okay. I won’t ask again," Tripp said. "Tell me about Enceladus."

  Manuel flipped through his pages and arrived at a picture of an oblong pastry with a meat and vegetable filling. The image fizzed and shifted around.

  "It is a tortilla that covers a range of meats and vegetables, often containing a hot—"

  “—What?”

  “—Chili Sauce.”

  “That’s enchiladas, you moron."

  “Meow,” Jelly added.

  "Oh," Manuel busied himself by flipping through his pages. One by one, they revealed a blank slate. Several of them appeared torn and incomplete.

  "Manuel, I’m sorry. You’ve taken a lot of damage. You need recalibrating."

  "I feel I am able to autopilot," Manuel explained. "I can run a check on—"

  "—No, you’ve demonstrated that you’re unable," Tripp butted in, "I want you to shut down. Just temporarily until I do a sit-rep."

  "But, Tripp—"

  "—Don’t take it personally, Manuel," Tripp beckoned Jelly over to the door with him. "Go offline. Just for an hour or so. We can’t afford to have you confuse H2O with waste water."

  "I’m not stupid, Tripp," Manuel slammed his covers together in a strop.

  "I’m afraid for the moment you are. Please power down. I promise I’ll wake you up when I figure out what’s going on."

  "Fine." Manuel blurted. He vanished from the room completely, leaving a befuddled Tripp to stare at Jelly for a reaction.

  "Crazy, huh?"

  "Meow."

  "Out of all of us, Manuel should know better. If he’s not fully operational then he should be shut down until we can fix him."

  Jelly ducked her head and retracted her claws.

  "Come on, girl," Tripp held his palm to the wall panel, "Let’s go check on the others."

  The door slid open, allowing the pair out of the control deck.

  Chapter 2

  Something felt off to Tripp as he walked across Beta’s level one corridor.

  The entire ship felt like it had powered down. The subtle rumblings and vibrations that he’d become accustomed to weren’t present.

  For the first time since they’d left Earth he could hear his own footsteps clanging against the metal grille as he walked. Jelly turned a corner just behind him, anxious to find out what had happened to her humans.

  "Let’s head to Medix and find your mommy," Tripp held his forearm to his mouth. "This is Captain Healy. Does anyone read me?"

  Nobody responded. The radio device on his arm seemed flatter than normal. No static or any sign of life.

  "I repeat, this is Captain Healy transmitting on Individimedia. The radio and internal comms are down," he stopped in his tracks, "Can anyone read me?"

  If Tripp felt alone during the course of their mission, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling right now. All he had was a confused autopilot and a cat for company. With the comms down the universe felt smaller than ever.

  Tripp squinted at the door to Medix thirty feet ahead of him.

  "I don’t like this."

  Clunk.

  The sound of a shifting metal object thundered along the corridor from the far end. Another turn in the corridor.

  A faint sniffing followed the unusual noise.

  "What’s that?" Tripp whispered to Jelly. She pricked up her ears and moved in front of Tripp, investigating the source of the sound.

  "No, no," Tripp shifted her aside with his boot, "Stay there."

  "Meow."

  "Who’s there?" Tripp reached for his Rez-9 firearm on his belt.

  The sniffing stopped, as did all sign of life from the turn in the corridor. Tripp unhooked his gun and pointed it forward. "I said who’s there?"

  "Meow," Jelly seconded Tripp’s question.

  "Stay back, girl. We don’t know what’s—"

  A silhouetted figure moved in front of the screen door to Medix. A familiar profile outline - tall, voluptuous, and with shoulder-length hair.

  "Who are you?" Tripp asked.

  The figure lowered her head to her opened hands and sobbed. Her voice sounded familiar, although she hadn’t actually spoken.

  "Bonnie?"

  The figure lowered her arms, revealing the outline of a Rez-9 in her right hand.

  "What’s h-happening to me?" The figure asked herself through her tears.

  "Hey," Tripp shouted down the corridor, "What are you doing?"

  His hollering caught the woman’s attention. The figure turned forty-five degrees and held her Rez-9 firearm at Tripp, "Where am I? Who are you?"

  He squinted, trying to figure out who - or what - was standing in front of him.

  "Bonnie? Is that you?"

  Jelly hissed, shaken by the strange person’s presence.

  The figure stepped toward Tripp, keeping her gun pointed at him. She entered a shaft of light from one of the bulbs on the ceiling.

  It was her - a confused, upset, and pink-splattered Bonnie Whitaker. "Who are you?"

  "It’s me. Tripp Healy."

  "Who?" Bonnie pushed her gun forward, threatening to blow his head off. "How do you know my name?"

  "What?"

  "I said how do you know my name?" Bonnie squealed through her tears, "You don’t know me."

  "You’re… one of us."

  Bonnie kept her gun aimed at Tripp’s face. "Don’t come any closer."

  Tripp offered his surrender and held out his arms. "Okay."

  "You tell me where I am and how I got here."

  "We don’t know, Bonnie. We went through some sort of wormhole on Enceladus. We don’t know where we are—"

  She blasted a warning shot at Tripp. The charg
e streaked past his shoulder and blew a hole in the side of the wall.

  "Jeez," Tripp held his hands up in surrender, "What the hell—"

  "—I swear to God I will kill you. Let me out of here."

  "Let you out of here? What are you talking about?"

  Bonnie screamed again, close to rupturing her vocal chords, "Where am I?"

  "Wait, wait," Tripp tried. "What do you remember? Did you just wake up?"

  The question resonated with Bonnie’s desire for answers. Tripp could see the tactic worked when she tilted her head at Jelly.

  "Yes, I did."

  "Please don’t shoot us," Tripp said. "We’ve just woken up, too. You’re confused, just like we are."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Space Opera Beta. You know what that is, don’t you?"

  "No," she yelled, "I don’t remember anything."

  "You’re a cosmologist," Tripp said. "You’re Bonnie Whitaker, and you’re a part of our team."

  "Liar," Bonnie aimed the gun at Tripp’s head. "You’re trying to trick me. I want to go home to my husband and son."

  "Where are they, Bonnie?" Tripp tried to rescue himself from death and convince Bonnie he wasn’t the bad guy. "Go on. I’m listening. Tell me where home is."

  "I don’t know."

  "That’s right, you don’t know," Tripp nodded at the firearm in her hand. "And why would we give you a gun if we were keeping you here against your will?"

  She looked at the Rez-9 in her hand and tried to calculate the information. "I don’t know."

  "Bonnie, trust me. You can’t do anything hasty if you don’t know all the facts. Please."

  "No, no," Bonnie yelled, "You’re lying. Tell me where I am."

  "I told you already. You’re on Space Opera Beta on a rescue mission on behalf of USARIC."

  "USARIC?" Bonnie asked, none-the-wiser.

  "My God, you really don’t remember, do you?"

  A pink tear rolled down Bonnie’s cheek as she cried. "I just want to go home…"

  "We all do, Bonnie."