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

by Andrew Mackay

  Scores of tiny spiders crept across the ground, snaking in and out of their paws.

  The cats clawed back at them, stomping, and squishing a few of the spindly creatures as they scuttled away.

  Mau snarled at the surviving spiders. She roared at the ground, scaring them off.

  The cats instinctively formed a crescent around her and sat on their haunches. They were ready for answers.

  Mau shifted around, lifted her tail and showed them all her behind. Everyone knew who was in charge, now.

  "Meow," the cats replied in unison.

  Mau wandered toward the water knowing the others were following her. She averted her attention to the bright moon and stopped at the shoreline.

  The cats sat upright behind her.

  Mau licked her mouth and shook the fatigue from her head. The light from the moon streaked across her pupils.

  "Meow."

  The other cats followed suit. "Meow."

  A wondrous sight to behold if anyone had seen it. Thirty or so escapees looking at the stars in the night sky. Thankful for the chance for freedom.

  The call-outs to the moon occurred again, and again… until the chorus of meows from each cat blended into one prolonged and eerie howl at the moon…

  Chapter 12

  The Control Deck

  Space Opera Beta

  Tor held the analog keyboard in his hands, restricted in movement by the wires connecting to the deck. Manuel’s holographic book hung in the air as they conversed.

  "Manuel, what is your primary function?"

  "To serve the crew of Space Opera Beta and to act as autopilot."

  "Good," Tor punched the results onto the keys and turned to the transparent screen in front of the deck. He felt the rim of his Decapidisc, lamenting the day ever he fell on the wrong side of his crew. "Confirm coordinates of Opera Beta, please."

  Manuel folded his spine and conked out for a couple of seconds.

  "Manuel?"

  "Yes, Tor?"

  "Confirm Opera Beta coordinates, please. Command prompt. One, zero, six, forward slash, one, zero."

  The numbers appeared in as a green digital readout over the front of the book.

  "The coordinates are precisely the same as before. That is to say, zero, zero, zero, zero—"

  "—Okay, stop. I get the picture."

  Tor shook his head and typed a prompt on the keyboard, "Commencing scan, please standby."

  Tripp and Wool ran into the deck ahead of Jaycee escorting Baldron through the door, "Tor, are we up and running?"

  "Yes, we—" he turned around and saw Tripp clutching his Rez-9. It made him nervous, "What’s going on? Why the gun?"

  "Didn’t you hear what I told you?" Tripp scanned the walls and ceiling ready to blast whatever might pop out from the walls, "The whole place is breaking up."

  "Breaking up?"

  "It’s sick, comrade," Baldron spat and caught Tor’s attention, "There’s these things breaking into the ship, Viktor. We’re not in space anymore, comrade."

  Tor eyed Baldron’s Decapidisc. It seemed to him that whoever was wearing one was considered to be the bad guy.

  "Comrade," Baldron stepped over to Tor and opened his arms for a hug. The pair found they couldn’t hug on account of the metal discs around their necks..

  "Hey," Jaycee threatened the pair with his K-SPARK shotgun. "Less of that stupidity. Get a room."

  "We had a room," Tor chewed down the urge to scream, "We were perfectly safe in N-Carcerate till you forced us out."

  Baldron closed his eyes and tugged at his Decapidisc, "No, no, that’s where the things got in."

  "Will someone please tell me what he’s talking about?” Tor asked. “What things?"

  Tripp checked signs of damage on the control deck, "They’re big and ugly, and vicious. Whatever they are."

  Baldron eyed Jaycee, only to receive a knowing wink from him.

  "You don’t say."

  "How’s Manuel? We need to get the thrusters up and running and get the hell out of here."

  Tor placed the keyboard on the control deck and hit the return key, "Functional, but still confused. I found something, though."

  Wool kept her right hand near her belt’s hand gun holster. "What did you find?

  "A video message. Sent just before we went dark."

  "Oh."

  Tripp knew the content of the message. He had hoped to keep the details to himself, "The one from USARIC?"

  Tor couldn’t bear to look at his captain. "Yeah. Look." He hit a key. The holovideo to projected into the middle of the control deck.

  Maar Sheck, CEO of USARIC, read from a prepared holographic statement at a podium.

  "Following the death of Viktor Rabinovich, Deputy Dimitri Vasilov and the news of Russian infiltration on Space Opera Beta, USARIC will cease operation with immediate effect.”

  Baldron took a few steps around the holovideo and glanced at Tor, "So, they know?"

  “Seems so,” Tor nodded as the video played out.

  Maar continued, "All diplomatic relations have been suspended with immediate effect. It is with regret that all Russian operatives are to be ejected from American soil, and vice versa.”

  Jaycee didn’t take the revelation very well at all. He stomped over to the keyboard and hit the pause button. "You mean to tell me that Russia and North America are now at war?"

  Tripp shook his head, “Not quite war. More a divorce, if you like.”

  "It wasn’t our fault," Tor complained. "It was the brainchild of Dimitri Vasilov. We were only following orders."

  "Much like my button on my glove, here," Jaycee held up his wrist and teased the button on his glove with his finger.

  "Stop doing that," Baldron and Tor screamed in unison.

  "Jaycee, stop," Wool tried to placate the angry mercenary as he pushed Baldron against the control deck.

  "Hey, imbecile."

  "Please don’t kill me," Baldron felt along the rim of the deck and pulled himself away from Jaycee. "I swear, it wasn’t—"

  "—Earth is about to start a second cold war because of you. I have family back home."

  Tripp tried to placate the angry giant’s temper, "Jaycee, all of us have family back home."

  "You shut up," He pointed at Tripp and screamed at him for the first time - close to two years’ worth of pent-up frustration against his colleague.

  Tripp lowered his gun, stunned beyond comprehension, "Okaaay?"

  Jaycee socked Baldron in the face. The side of his body hit the deck, accidentally hitting the play button on the keyboard.

  "Oww."

  "You’re gonna get us all killed,’ Jaycee spat and blenched his fist.

  Maar’s hologram continued speaking, “We send our thoughts and prayers to the souls aboard Opera Beta and wish them all the best on their survival in the vicinity of Enceladus. Beta, may God be with you."

  Jaycee ran his gloves through his hair and let out a pained exclamation, "Someone shut that imbecile off!"

  "Yes," Tor scrambled to the keyboard and hit the pause button. "I’m sorry."

  Tripp held out his arms and walked through the paused image of Maar Sheck. He offered a makeshift peace treaty. "Listen to me very carefully."

  The visual cracked apart and vanished into thin air. The entire team turned to Tripp to hear him out.

  "Events on Earth can’t be changed. What’s done is done. I can only run with the facts."

  "No," Jaycee said. "We can kill these two right now and protect ourselves."

  Tor and Baldron hung their heads in shame. Jaycee wasn’t exactly exercising his subtlety at this point.

  "Stop and think for a second, will you? Just think. We can’t kill them—"

  "—you heard the message, Tripp," Jaycee said. "USARIC is no more. We’re at war with these commie scum suckers—"

  "—I know that. But the fact still stands. We need them and they need us. I don’t care about what’s going on back home. I just care that we get back home."


  "This is utter lessense."

  Tripp turned to the two men at the control deck, "You said Manuel was up and running?"

  "Yes," Tor picked up the keyboard, eager to satisfy his superior.

  "I want a trace on Anderson and Dr Whitaker. I want an update on the engine and the thrusters and what we need to do to get back get home."

  Tor typed away on the keys with enthusiasm. Jaycee’s desire to murder him and his colleague had been overridden by the captain. "I’m way ahead of you—"

  BZZZZ-OWWW.

  The communications and flight panel shunted around. The lights snapped off and filled the deck with darkness. The generator’s hum slowed to a standstill. Even the floor’s emergency strip lighting failed to light up.

  "Jesus, what was that?" Wool’s voice came from the darkness.

  "Oh, God," Baldron’s trembling vocal chords barreled around the room, "Is this it? Are we dead?"

  "Stay absolutely still, everyone." Tripp advised. "Don’t move a muscle."

  "I can’t see anything," Jaycee pressed his foot forward.

  "I said don’t move. Wool, is that you?"

  "Yes, yes, I think so," she said, trying her level best to keep calm, "I can feel your hand."

  "Don’t move."

  The walls and ground vibrated and shifted around. Despite the darkness, most in the room tried to keep their balance by holding onto something solid.

  "What’s going on?"

  "We’ve lost power," Tripp barked. "Grab hold of something. Anything rooted to the ground or the wall."

  The shifting intensified and refused to let up.

  Wool grabbed hold of the flight deck. Jaycee pressed his back against the wall. The sound of two metal Decapidiscs clanging together suggested Tor and Baldron hugged each other.

  "Christ, we’re going to die," Baldron bawled. "This is how it ends."

  "Shut up and hold tight," Tripp shouted over the noise and turned to the flight deck’s acrylic frontage, "We’re not going to— Oh… my God. What is that?"

  Stars formed across the black canvas of space. Lighting up one by one, they added glare and cast a dim light into the control deck.

  Everyone staggered around in an attempt to remain upright.

  Pink dust crept across the stars and fanned out in all directions. Seconds later, a giant circle appeared to the right of the shield, filling itself with a bizarre amalgam of black and orange clouds.

  Six silver whiskers streaked out underneath the circle as it formed into a strangely familiar eye.

  The vibrations of the ship conformed to a piece of classical music.

  "Is that… Jelly?" Wool screamed over the commotion.

  It was. Her enlarged eyeball peered against the transparent plastic, reflecting Saturn and its spinning rings. Violent-looking and beyond reproach, her face remained steady - and determined. Fire erupted in her thirty-foot eyeball.

  "Jelly!"

  Cracks tore down the sides of the control deck. A burst of pink light blasted the darkness away.

  "My God," Baldron looked at the eyeball in utter astonishment. He couldn’t move out of sheer reverence. "She’s…"

  WHUMP.

  Baldron and Tor blacked out. Their bodies hit the deck. Jaycee covered his face with his arm, blocking out the magnificent light from his eyes. It wasn’t long before he passed out and hit the deck.

  Tripp and Wool kept their gaze fixed on Jelly’s face as the volume of the orchestra loudened.

  "She’s… she’s…" Wool gasped and gripped Tripp’s arm. "She’s…"

  WHUMP.

  Overwhelmed, Tripp and Wool’s eyelids snapped shut. They collapsed to the ground together.

  The cracks in the ship sealed up immediately, plunging the control deck into darkness once again.

  Then, Jelly’s face vanished in a puff of dust - taking the stars in the sky with it.

  A bizarre phenomenon that proved beyond comprehension…

  Botanix

  The damage from the dumb bomb explosion could still be felt. The walls had been shattered to a point, leading into the sprawling and infinite Pink Symphony landscape.

  Sitting with her back to the wall, Bonnie remained unconscious. The back of her hand lay against the ground with her Rez-9 in her palm.

  The water tank suffered damage. Broken into three sections, it gushed the contents across the floor and soaked her inner-suit pants and boots. Her removable leg had come free during the fight with the creature. It was missing.

  A pink tear collected in her right eye as she breathed. More and more watery effluence added to the build-up, forcing its collected weight over the eyelid and down her cheek.

  It plummeted toward the ground and splashed against her good leg, soaking into the fabric.

  It was enough to make her open her eyes and inspect the strange sensation.

  "Ugh, what happened?" she lubricated the inside of her mouth with her tongue, "Good lord, what—"

  She squeezed the gun and brushed her inner-suit down. Splatter from the creature she’d executed outside had soaked into it. Her focus shifted from her stomach to the stump on her right leg.

  Fear set in.

  Her titanium leg was nowhere to be seen. She leaned over and grabbed at the metal grille, hoisting herself forward. "My leg, my leg…"

  She dragged the lower half of her body by her hands along the row of plants, trying her utmost to peek between them. Still no sign of her missing limb.

  Instead, she saw a small, furry creature laying on its side. It’s stomach and sides pushed in and out. An indication that it was at least alive.

  "God damn it, not another one," she gripped her Rez-9 and aimed the sight at the beast, "Hey, you."

  Its furry ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but didn’t move from the fetal position.

  "You want some more, you freak?"

  She squeezed the trigger, blasting a warning shot across its body.

  A tuft of fur flew into the air having been grazed by the edge of the projectile. The creature lifted its tail and whipped it back to the ground.

  "Huh?" Bonnie watched in amazement as the creature rolled over onto its back and held up its paws. Its eyes opened, forcing it to yawn and reveal its front teeth.

  "Anderson?"

  Its ears pricked up at the call of her name. A slurp of the tongue, and the little thing was back in business. Of course it was Jelly.

  "Meeooo…" she squealed at the top of her croaking voice, struggling to get the sound out. She meowed again. This time in much lower pitch.

  "Where… where did you go?"

  "Boh… Boh…" Jelly rolled onto her back and clawed at her tail. "Boh… knee…"

  "You just said my name!"

  Bonnie flipped around and dug her shoulders into the ground. Enthralled by what she’d witnessed, she lifted her forearm in front of her face. Her thumb scraped the three links of black ink across her synthetic skin, "Individimedia, access. Dr. Bonnie Whitaker, broadcast enable."

  The ink formed three individual dots. They flashed on and off, indicating a successful connection, "This is Bonnie. I repeat, this is Bonnie Whitaker. Does anyone read me?"

  She kept her eyes on Jelly, who clawed at her own tail in the throes of turmoil.

  "Bonnie?" Tripp’s tinny voice flew out of the pinpricks in her wrist, "We read you. Where are you?"

  "Botanix. Anderson’s with me. Come, quickly."

  "Is she? What’s she doing?"

  "Behaving strangely. Something happened to us, to her. Where are you?"

  "We’re in control right now. Something happened here, too. We lost power, briefly, but we’re back on."

  "I’m scared, Tripp," Bonnie looked around at the shattered walls. Behind her stood the door to Botanix. Directly opposite, the infinite landscape of Pink Symphony. "That pink beach thing is still here. I was attacked. I’ve lost my leg—"

  "—Okay, okay, calm down. Just stay there. I’ll be right over with Wool."

  "Please be qu
ick," Bonnie lowered her arm and relaxed her shoulders.

  "Make sure Anderson doesn’t run off out there—"

  "—But, I can’t move."

  Tripp waved Wool over to the door of the control deck, "We’re on our way. Do you have your firearm on you?"

  Bonnie’s voice came through Tripp’s forearm, "Just my Rez."

  An ethical quandary appeared in his mind as he reached the door, "Listen, Bonnie."

  "What is it?"

  "If you have to…" Tripp ducked his head and thought very carefully about his instruction.

  "If I have to what?"

  "Damn it."

  Wool knew what was going on, "Oh, Tripp. No. Don’t you dare."

  "We have no choice," Tripp lifted his arm to mouth, "Use the gun on Anderson if she doesn’t comply."

  "What?" Bonnie screamed back.

  Jaycee, Baldron and Tor threw their captain a befuddled look. "What?"

  "I’m not playing around, here," Tripp finished. "If she tries to run off, shoot her."

  "Tripp, you can’t do that—" Wool tried.

  "—I don’t trust her, not after what happened a few minutes ago. Come on, we have to get to Botanix."

  The duo walked through the door, leaving Jaycee, and his two Russian captives alone in the control deck.

  Tor turned to Jaycee for a reaction.

  "What are you looking at?" he bopped the man on the back of the head, "Get busy, numbskull. We know where everyone is. We need to know the state of Opera Beta."

  "Right, right," Tor snapped his fingers and prayed Manuel would appear, "Manuel?"

  The holographic book appeared in front of them, spinning its covers around, eager to assist, "Greetings, good people."

  "I want a full report on the ship’s system."

  "Certainly."

  Tor followed Manuel across the room. The book inspected the flight deck.

  "Also, run coordinates on our current location."

  "As I have relayed twice, now, the coordinates are irrelevant. Please excuse me while I run a scan on Beta’s functionality."

  The holographic book beeped over and over again.

  Baldron dared not look Jaycee in the eye. He kept his focus on his boots hoping he wouldn’t get thumped.