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

by Andrew Mackay

  A burst of giddy excitement came from the audience. The diagram on the screen behind him faded out, replaced by the Manning/Synapse company logo.

  "We believe the days are gone where technology and humans are distinguishable. Soon, the differentiation between the two will be a thing of the past. A unit that believes it is human. A unit that can reproduce and never die. Imagine the reduction of risk for your company, given the nature of the work you undertake. No more injury or, at least if there is, it’s easily fixed. No more death."

  Maar and Dimitri looked at each other knowing full well what the other was thinking.

  ***

  Bonnie screamed and thrashed around as she heaved through her oxygen mask. Her knees threatened to buckle.

  The woman was in so much pain squatting over the birthing pool, kept in place by her husband and a nurse.

  "Okay, Bonnie, keep pushing," the delivery nurse said, "The head is coming through."

  "Nggg…" Bonnie lifted her hips and stomped her false leg to the ground in an attempt to fling the volcano of hurt away.

  "It’s coming… keep breathing. Push, push."

  A final flex of the muscles did the trick. She slammed the back of her head against the padding and exhaled through her tears.

  The sense of relief was immeasurable, and only nearly as affecting as the cries of a newborn baby that followed seconds later.

  Bonnie opened her eyes to find Troy marveling at what lay in the delivery nurse’s arms. "Oh… my God. Bonnie, look."

  "Congratulations, Dr. Whitaker," the nurse said, holding the detritus-covered baby in her arms. "It’s a boy."

  Bonnie lifted her arms, unable to quell her happiness. "It’s a miracle is what it is."

  Troy smiled at her. "Well done, honey. I’m proud of you."

  "Can I hold him?"

  "Sure," the delivery nurse helped her to her feet.

  Her colleague handed her newborn son over, "Here he is. Ten fingers and ten, tiny toes."

  Bonnie took the crying human being in her arms and scanned him up and down. "My little angel."

  By all accounts, the her son was perfect. Ten fingers and ten, tiny toes. The comfort of his mother’s embrace was enough to stop him crying and relax.

  Finally, he opened his eyes. The first thing he ever saw in his life was his mother smiling back at him. The second thing he saw was the gracious smile stretched across his father’s face.

  "Do you have a name in mind for him, Dr. Whitaker?"

  Bonnie kept her eyes trained on the child and giggled, soaking up every atom of his body.

  "We were thinking Adam."

  "Huh?" The baby stopped kicking around and shot his mother a look of confusion. "Adam?"

  "Yes?" Bonnie felt hurt by her son’s protestation. Confused, further, by his ability to speak at a mere ninety seconds old, "Why, what’s wrong with that?"

  "That’s a bit of an obvious name, isn’t it?" The baby said, barely able to contain his disdain, "The first human being ever created? Bonnie?"

  "But, I—"

  "Bonnie?" The baby snapped his fingers, "No, it’s no good. I don’t think she can hear me."

  Bonnie screwed her face. A deep-rooted feeling of illness socked her in the gut, "Who are you talking to—"

  A shooting pain stormed across the back of her head, followed by a prolonged and intense tingling in her ears.

  "Yaarrggh!"

  The baby in her arms fizzed in and out. He opened his mouth and spoke once again. "Bonnie, can you hear me?"

  "No, no, it’s not right—"

  "She’s speaking," the baby said, nonchalantly, "Bonnie, I know you can hear me. If you can hear me—"

  N-Vigorate

  Space Opera Beta - Level Three

  "—Just nod your head," Tripp finished his sentence. He crouched in front of her as she sat in the electric chair.

  Bonnie jolted in the seat and pressed herself back against the headrest in fright, her eyes wide open.

  "Oh, God. Oh, God."

  Her breathing quickened as she attempted to acclimatize herself to her surroundings.

  Tripp looked at Wool for a response. "There we are, we’re back online."

  "What am I doing in here?" Bonnie spluttered and caught her breath. "Why did you plug me into the electric chair?"

  Tripp’s face soured. He rose to his feet and stood next to Wool, looking down at her. "Bonnie, we have something to tell you."

  "What is it?"

  "We know you’re confused," Wool said. "But we want you to know the truth."

  "Okay, I’m listening."

  Tripp folded his arms and cleared his throat. "There’s no easy way to say this, Bonnie. So it’s probably just better to come right out with it. You’re an Androgyne Series Three Unit."

  Bonnie stared at Tripp, waiting for the “ha-ha, got you” moment that would never come.

  Sure enough, even after Tripp’s pregnant pause, it never came.

  "Bonnie?"

  She blinked and scrunched her face. "Are you serious, right now?"

  "I’m afraid so."

  "What lessense. Only Series Two units recharge in N-Vigorate chambers. That’s old school," Bonnie stood out from the seat and extended her arms, ironing out the kinks on her muscles. "Anyway, I have a husband and a son. I was born before the first Androgyne series was even invented. Your jokes are starting to wear thin."

  "No, Bonnie," Wool said. "We figured it was better to be honest with you. When you time out, or otherwise lose consciousness, you seem to be suffering from amnesia."

  “We think your battery was damaged in the fight. You’re not operating properly.”

  "Is that so?" Bonnie lifted her metal leg and placed her foot on the seat. She unraveled her pants leg across her shin and wiggled her metal toes around. "I lost my leg in a vehicle accident, before they abolished flying cars."

  "No. You didn’t. USARIC programmed you to think you did."

  Bonnie didn’t believe a word coming from her captain’s mouth. "Why would they do that?"

  "To keep their options open."

  Bonnie held her right hand at the pair, dismissing their stupidity. "Shut up."

  Wool walked to the N-Vigorate chamber door. "We don’t have much time, Bonnie. We need your help—"

  The stripped lights stretching across the ceiling dipped in and out as the walls began to rumble.

  Concerned, Wool looked up and around her immediate vicinity, "What’s that?"

  "Seems Manuel’s got the engine working."

  Bonnie walked into the middle of the room and scanned the harshly-lit walls. She closed her eyes and inhaled. "Are we still lost?"

  "Yes," Tripp said.

  The humming from the power behind the walls underscored Bonnie’s recollection of events. "The last thing I remember was a pink gas. My eyes went funny. Anderson rescued us," her speaking slowed as she remembered something vital, "Tor. Baldron. They tried to kill us."

  Tripp raised his eyebrows, curious that Bonnie had remembered. "That’s right. You remember?"

  "Anderson," Bonnie added with maternal instinct, "Where is she?"

  Wool wasted no time in hurrying up the expedition. "That’s what we want to find out—"

  The entire chamber rocked back and forth like a fairground ride. Dust coughed around them from the ceiling. The near-deafening chaos and vibrations never abated.

  "Jesus, what was that?" Tripp grabbed Wool in his arms and ran with her to the door, "Quick, with me."

  Bonnie twisted around on the spot and watched the far wall crack apart. It shot sifts of white and pink light through the ceramic. "What is that?" Quick-thinking, she followed the cracks crawl up the wall and shatter the ceiling, threatening to propel a chunk of it at her face.

  Whoosh.

  Chunks of debris whizzed past her head. She splayed out her legs and hit the ground. It stabbed down and created a vicious dent in the ground. Just two more inches to the left and Bonnie could have been sold as scrap metal.

/>   "Quick, get out of here," Bonnie stomped her metal foot to the floor and propelled herself into the air, thumping rocks of falling detritus against the far wall.

  Wool and Trip ran through the door, but the spectacular light show was too enthralling to run away from. Wool skidded on her heels and tugged at Tripp’s arm, forcing him to stop.

  "No, wait. We can’t leave Bonnie there, we—" she couldn’t finish her sentence. The sight beyond the frame of the door was too much to handle.

  "Where are you?" Bonnie screamed at the splattered, milky sky that had opened up around her. "You coming for me? Come and get me."

  "Bonnie," Wool wailed at her as she ran away from the door and into the beautiful sand-drenched horizon, "Bonnie, come back."

  "What the hell is going on here?" Tripp muttered as he witnessed the N-Vigorate chamber break away into nothingness. The walls smashed against the sand, kicking a wisp of saturated rock into the air.

  "Manuel said we weren’t on Opera Beta," Wool clasped Tripp’s hand and ran with him along the corridor, "I’m starting to believe him. We gotta find Jaycee, quick."

  Tripp barreled along the walkway with her, their footsteps clanging against the metal grills. He held up his left forearm and screamed into his Individimedia ink.

  "Tor, this is Tripp. Do you read me?"

  The ink on his arm swirled into the shape of a tick and bled out into a black-and-white rendition of Tor’s face. "Yes, this is Tor. I read you."

  "Tor, listen. Something has happened to N-Vigorate," he said, losing his breath while running, "We’re in danger."

  "Danger? What danger?"

  "That place we saw earlier. It’s starting to appear everywhere. We think Manuel is right, we’re not on Opera Beta—"

  The walls of the walkway shunted back and forth, putting a halt to Tripp’s comments, and a slight pause in progress. "Oh, wow."

  Breathless, Wool slowed down to a jog and tilted her head to the ceiling. "It’s happening again."

  "Tripp?" Tor’s voice shot out from Tripp’s arm, "What’s going on?"

  SCHUNT!

  A chasm split along the ceiling, shattering the material like a broken eggshell. "Run!"

  Wool and Tripp wasted no time. They bolted along the corridor as the crack opened up above their heads, spilling pipework and sharp bits of ceramic all around them.

  "What do I do? Tor asked from Tripp’s forearm.

  He turned to the ink on his skin and kept running. "Stay where you are. Do not leave the control deck. Lock the door and await further instru—"

  KERRAANG!

  A lump of metal daggered through the corridor wall. Tripp yanked her forward just in time for it to avoid severing her hip. The resultant tear on her inner-suit was imminently more preferable than losing a vital organ.

  "Thanks."

  "Don’t thank me, just run," Tripp quipped as they picked up the pace, "Don’t even think about stopping."

  Wool looked over her shoulder as she quickened her pace. A dozen pipes fell across the path, blasting various liquids and gases across the walkway.

  "Oh my God, we’re—"

  The ceiling cracked apart like a budding rose as they turned the corner, on the path to N-Carcerate.

  "Tripp, Tripp," Wool pulled him back and pointed at the opened sky, multi-colored sky. A serene sound of ocean waves and cool air rolled around the opening.

  Tripp couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His ship was breaking apart all around him like a detonated tomb with a grudge.

  "Come on. No time to admire the view." He spun around on his feet and stormed toward N-Carcerate with Wool in tow. "Jaycee, open the door."

  The N-Carcerate door edged closer and closer as Tripp and Wool clanged along the stern surface of the walkway. He opened out his palm and shoved his arm in front of his face, intending to slap it against the panel.

  "Get ready," he screamed, trying to outrun the metaphysical destruction erupting around them.

  The door slid open before Tripp had the chance to manually open it. "Whoa."

  He pushed Wool into the room, turned on his heels and drew the door shut by its handle.

  Seriously out of breath, he placed his hands on his knees and gasped. "Ugh, no more. No more… this… is too much."

  "You okay, Tripp?" Jaycee’s voice lumbered from the other side of the room.

  Tripp closed his eyes and caught his breath. At last, a reassuring voice and some confirmation that Jaycee was perfectly fine. He stood up straight and was about to speak, when he laid eyes on the giant of a man.

  His face fell a few light years from his body. "Jaycee?"

  "Yes, Captain. Look who woke up."

  Tripp blinked over and over again, trying to process what he saw. Wool held her hand over her mouth and gasped as she finally laid eyes on the scene. "Oh, my God."

  "Jaycee?" Tripp took a careful step forward, hoping not to attract any undue attention. "Don’t… move."

  "What are you talking about?" Jaycee knocked Baldron’s arm. The Decapidisc sat around his captive’s neck, resting heavily across his shoulders.

  Of course, this was to be expected. Jaycee was never one to miss an opportunity to instill fear in people - particularly a traitor. Both he and Baldron faced Tripp and Wool. The opposite direction of the cause of concern.

  "He’s g-going to kill me," Baldron sobbed and rubbed his arms.

  Tripp averted his gaze over Jaycee’s shoulder, staring at the wall behind him "Not if that… thing… kills you first."

  "What thing?" Jaycee turned around and nearly soiled his exo-suit pants. "Wha—" He elbowed Baldron toward Tripp and slung his K-SPARK gun at the wall. "What in God’s name is that that—?

  A giant ball of pasty-white human flesh with twelve limbs clung to the wall like an absorbent slug. Balled-up like a spider, it retracted its “arms”. It measured at least five feet wide and eight feet tall. The sheer enormity of the thing was devastating.

  The mid-section of the beast heaved in and out, squirming as it slid down the wall. Two of its limbs reached the ground and thumped out, trying to orient itself as it crawled to the ground.

  "Get back— My God," Jaycee aimed his shotgun at it and teased the trigger. "What’s going on here?"

  "Up there," Wool whispered, afraid to alarm the creature as it flopped to the ground and squealed. "Look. The crack. It must have got in through there."

  She was right - a crack had formed where the ceiling met the wall.

  Jaycee focused on the creature and aimed down his sight. "Damn, that’s one ugly-looking lump of flesh."

  "Jaycee, no. Don’t shoot it—" Tripp quipped as the multi-limbed sack of flesh extended six of its twelve fleshy tentacle-cum-limbs across the ground. The central tumorous slit opened up and squealed in anger.

  "Night-night, sweetheart," Jaycee spat.

  BANG-SCHPLATT!

  The bullet rocketed through the air and hit the creature. It exploded in all directions. Bits of pink-colored flesh and blood splattered the crew.

  "Gaaoooww," Baldron screamed as some of it went in his mouth.

  The bullet blasted right through the creature and smashed into the wall, forcing a crack ten feet above them to break apart. Chunks of ceramic crashed around Baldron and Jaycee.

  "Get out of here, now!"

  "Baldron, let’s go," Wool took his hand and made for the door. Tripp thumped Jaycee on the back, ready to accost him, when he caught a glimpse through the crack in the wall.

  "Oh… no, no, run. Run, run, run!" Tripp’s soul nearly flew out of his mouth, as did Jaycee’s.

  Several hundred feet in the sandy horizon thousands more of the same creatures scuttled toward the ship.

  "This can’t be h-happening," Jaycee stammered, unable to move. "Where are we?"

  Tripp pushed him toward the door. "I dunno, but we’re not sticking around to find out—"

  CRAA-ACCK!

  N-Carcerate’s ceiling shunted apart like a pressurized ribcage, flooding the prison chamb
er with pink light. The iron bars on each cell punctured away from its housing and crashed to the floor, creating a series of obstacles on the path to the door.

  "Tripp," Wool shouted over the commotion, "Come on, we gotta get outta here!"

  Tripp jumped over the fallen bar and pulled Jaycee with him. "God, you’re heavy."

  "It’s the exo-suit, man."

  "Yeah," Tripp yanked him by his mammoth waist, "And it’s not water retention, it’s cake retention."

  "You calling me fat?" Jaycee took aim at the chasm in the wall. The creatures scurried forward, squealing for revenge.

  "No, I’m calling you dead if you don’t get out of here," Tripp hoisted himself over the debris and jumped toward the door. "Head for the control deck."

  "What?" Jaycee pushed through the door and into the walkway. "Why?"

  "We need to get Tor before those things do." Tripp slid the door shut mere nanoseconds before the first of scores of fleshy creatures slapped against the glass door, splattering its pink saliva up the glass window.

  "What’s happening to us?" Baldron cried and shook his head. "What kind of perversion is this?"

  Jaycee bopped him on the back of the head with the butt of his K-SPARK as they hurried toward the control deck. "Shut up, Russian."

  "It is a perversion of science," Baldron sobbed. "Those things—"

  "—Yeah, and those things are going to have their way with us if we don’t figure out what the hell is going on, here," Tripp lifted his forearm and spoke into his skin ink. "Individimedia. Open channel, please."

  "You’re not giving Rabinovich the heads up, are you?" Jaycee asked.

  "Huh?" Baldron shot Tripp a look of despair. How did they know Tor’s real identity?

  Tripp didn’t look at the man. He was more determined to get the crew to the safety of the control deck. "Don’t act the numbnuts with us, numbnuts. We know who Tor is. Speaking of which, Tor, can you read me?"

  "I read you, Tripp," came his voice. "What’s the situation?"