“Call a hearse, instead.”
“Gaaah.”
Guard 451 dropped to his knees and reached out to Maar, who simply stared the man in the face and watched the life drain away.
“Hurry up and die, will you?”
WHUMP.
The guard gasped his last and hit the floor, dead.
***
The door to the private ward opened, and out walked Maar dressed in the USARIC guard’s clothes.
The suit was far too big for him.
Fortunately for the Maar, most of the patrons of the hospital didn’t recognize the size disparity. No one paid enough attention to him.
For good measure, Maar flipped the helmet’s visor over his face. The number 451 whizzed across the screen.
An approaching doctor smiled at Maar as he shuffled past, “Good evening.”
“Uh, hello,” Maar affected a gruff voice and tried not to draw too much attention to himself as he made his way to the busy reception area.
He looked to the left and saw a hideous graffiti mark reading on the wall which read: Misfits OUT!
“Ugh,” he muttered and shook his head, “Not in here, too?”
Dozens of civilians sat in the waiting area with various injuries and ailments.
The girl behind the reception desk fought off the baying mob demanding attention.
“I’m sorry, everyone. Please form an orderly line and be patient.”
Maar stopped in his tracks and surveyed the waiting pool. A few people stared back at him, wondering if he was about to cause trouble.
Then, he remembered he was in full USARIC mercenary gear. For the first time in his entire life he felt the misgivings of the general public and their perception of his company.
They looked concerned.
Before he had time to dwell any further, he heard a coarse voice coming from behind his left shoulder.
He turned around to the holographic visual hovering by the wall.
“Anderson?” he muttered in confusion.
The visual of a distressed Emily Anderson played on the transparent screen.
“I don’t know where you are, poppet,” she sniffed. “But, please, let me know you’re okay.”
“How are you feeling at this moment in time, Mrs. Anderson?” Santiago Sibald asked her.
“I j-just, I just need to know he’s okay. That they haven’t done anything to him--”
“Good Lord,” Maar whispered to himself.
If being treated as a USARIC mercenary wasn’t bad enough, he now had a first-hand account of the consequences of the actions he’d taken. Emily’s son, Jamie, along with the two other finalists of the Star Cat Project, had been kidnapped and held to ransom.
Maar had effectively ordered their execution by calling RAGE’s bluff.
How do you process information like this, particularly when you’ve recovered from a flirt with death?
Maar shook his head and felt sorry for the woman. There was absolutely nothing she could have done to avoid the situation she was in.
He knew deep down inside that he’d ordered the death of her son. As far as anyone was aware, they were long gone by now.
“Please, move out of the way,” came a stern voice form the reception desk.
A man Maar recognized from the anonymity provided by his visor.
Kaoz, accompanied by his lawyer, Crain McDormand, pushed through the line and approached the girl behind reception.
Maar’s felt his legs turned to stone. He didn’t know whether to announce himself, or hide, and so chose neither action. He remained still and observed the two men talk to the receptionist.
“Maar Sheck?” Kaoz’s lips moved in slow motion at the girl behind the desk. She looked at her floating screen and pointed at the corridor behind Maar’s right shoulder.
The two men seemed to be in a hurry.
Maar lifted his right hand to the side of his visor and pressed a button.
The wide screen visual of the reception desk wiped to the left, replaced by a colorful thermo-dynamic representation. Human-shaped blobs of oranges, yellows, and reds shifted around.
Santiago’s voice whizzed around the room, “He’s not the only one who was taken, of course. Leesa Task and Remy Gagarin are also confirmed missing as this time.”
“I know how their parents feel,” Emily’s voice lowered. “We all need to know our children are safe. That those who took them didn’t hurt them.”
Maar zoomed into Kaoz’s right hand reaching into his utility belt as he stepped away from the desk. The man’s head was blood red.
“Jesus,” Maar whispered.
SWISH.
He flicked the thermo-dynamic sensor off and saw Kaoz march toward the corridor. Ten seconds from now, Kaoz - and his right hand clutched on his utility belt - would walk right past him.
“Oh, God,” Maar looked left - then right. He didn’t know where to run. Kaoz stormed forward with Crain in tow.
“Uh, uh—”
“—Hey, you,” Kaoz chirped at who he thought was Guard 451, “Why aren’t you at your station? Guarding the ward?”
“Uh,” Maar chocked as he tried to speak. Lowering his voice came by complete accident, “I was t-taking a break—”
Kaoz stopped and placed a hand on his shoulder, “How is he?”
“How is who?”
“Maar Sheck, you dumb sonofabitch.”
“He’s, uh—”
“—Did he survive his heart attack?”
Maar fixed his gaze on Kaoz’s eyes, “Y-Yes, I— he d-did, but—”
“Damn it.”
Kaoz retrieved his hand gun and showed it to Maar, “Okay, Plan B, then.”
“Plan B?” Maar asked.
“We’re going in there, now,” Kaoz said. “A quick termination. We’re in and out, but you make sure no one gets in his room.”
“What?”
Kaoz turned to Crain, who had a forlorn look of regret on his face.
“Don’t get all pious on us, now, Crain,” Kaoz said. “The bastard deserves it. ”
Kaoz turned to Maar.
“Do you understand what I’ve just said?”
“Yuh, yes.”
“Good. Once he’s out of the picture we can get USARIC back on track. Hopefully stave off any misgivings from the IRI. If any Viddy Media scumbags turn up, what are you going to do?”
“Um, turn them away?”
“Exactly,” Kaoz said quietly. “No one goes in, no one goes out. As far as everyone’s concerned, our CEO died in the air ambulance on his way over.”
Kaoz looked at Guard 451 and Crain for acknowledgment, “We all clear on this?”
“Yes.”
Kaoz concealed his hand gun and rushed down the corridor with Crain, leaving a thoroughly startled and nervous Maar Sheck on his own at reception.
“Give us ninety seconds,” Kaoz barked over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Maar blinked and looked around for the hospital entrance. Seconds from now, Kaoz and Crain would see that he’d escaped. They’d see the murdered guard dressed only in his underwear and with a syringe poking out of his jugular.
He fumbled in the mercenary pants pocket and grabbed at something oblong and rigid.
The key to a MagCycle.
Kaoz clocked the empty chair outside the private ward as he gripped the door handle. Crain shuffled up behind him, “Look, just get in there and do it. No messing around.”
“Going in.”
Kaoz pushed the door open and entered the ward.
The bed was empty.
A large man lay face down on the floor with a hospital gown draped over his back.
“Maar?” Kaoz said. “Crain, shut the damn door.”
“Okay.”
He pushed it shut and joined Kaoz at the dead body.
“Look at h-him,” Crain stammered with astonishment. “It m-must have been agony for him to have fallen out of the bed like that.”
“This must have just happened,” Kaoz
chuckled to himself as he crouched beside the body, “Ugh. Look how bloated he got.”
Kaoz’s gloved fingers slid under the corpse’s chin. He turned the head up and to the left - to discover that it wasn’t Maar Sheck at all.
“What the hell?” Kaoz barked as he released the head.
WHUMP.
“It’s not him,” he jumped to his feet and rolled down his sleeve. “It’s not him.”
“What? What do you mean it’s not him?” Crain snapped.
“The bastard’s got out, he’s escaped.”
Kaoz spoke into his wrist and made for the window. “This is Kaoz at Corpus Christi Infirmary. Does anyone read me?”
The view looked over the parked vehicles in the forecourt - several ambulances, helicopters, civilian vehicles, and parked MagCycles.
“We read you, Kaoz.”
“The target has left the building. I repeat, the target has left the building.”
“What do you mean he’s left the building?” came the confused response.
“I mean he’s left the damn building—”
Kaoz squinted at a small figure in an over-sized USARIC mercenary suit hurrying away from the hospital entrance and over to the parked MagCycles.
“You sonofabitch.”
A quick look at the over-sized corpse on the floor, and Kaoz put two and two together in an instant.
“It’s him, it’s him—”
“—Who’s him?” came the perplexed voice from Kaoz’s arm.
“Um, um, he’s escaped,” Kaoz yelled and quickly re-evaluated his lies, “The guard has murdered Maar Sheck and run away.”
Crain ran with Maar to the door in the ward, “What are we gonna do? What did you just tell them?”
“Look, we can’t let Maar escape. We told him everything out there.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. I can’t believe this,” Kaoz huffed and turned back to his arm, “I want an all points bulletin on every MagCycle within a fifty mile radius. USARIC, Mercenary Division, 451.”
Kaoz ran through the door and pushed a doctor out of his path.
“Hey—”
“—Get out of the damn way,” Kaoz yelled as he ran over to the fire alarm on the corridor wall. He clenched his fist and punched the glass frontage.
SMASH.
He grabbed the red lever and yanked it down, setting off the alarm and sprinkler system.
“Kaoz,” Crain screamed over the wailing, “What are you doing?”
“Attention citizens,” a robotic announcement rumbled through the corridor, “This is not a drill. The alarm has been activated. Please make your way to assembly point eight—”
The patients, visitors, and employees of the hospital ran down the corridor and through the spraying water cascading from the ceiling.
“Come on, let’s move,” Kaoz bolted down the corridor with his gun drawn, “Everybody get down. Now.”
BLAM-BLAM.
His warning shots sent everyone to the floor in a panic. Crain chased after Kaoz as they made their way to the reception area.
Maar stumbled at speed through the MagCycle parking lot. Keeping upright was difficult enough. Trying to hot-foot away from the hospital was almost impossible in his state.
Maar held the key at the hundreds of MagCycles parked in the magnetic bay, hoping one of them would fire up, “Come on, come on.”
BZZZZZZ.
The air rippled to and fro as he waved the scanner left and right.
For a brief moment, he mistook the sudden announcement of the hospital’s fire alarm for success.
He scanned the MagCycles.
“Yes, but which one—”
The hospital doors burst open and released a torrent of scared civilians into the forecourt.
Maar walked backwards and watched as they filed out of the building. He turned around and attempted to run as fast as he could towards the MagCycles.
“Come on, come on,” he yelped and waved the key around the vehicles, “Come on.”
BLIP-BOOP.
Success. The first MagCycle in the row rumbled and lifted two feet above the magnetic ground. It had the USARIC emblem on the side of the body. It should have been obvious which one the key was for.
“Got it,” he barked as he grabbed the handlebars and swung his right leg over the top. He yanked the right handle back and felt the machine pulse between his legs.
WHUD — WHUDD-DD-DD.
The cycle shunted forward and nose-dived toward the floor, nearly throwing the man over the bars, “Whoa.”
He yanked the accelerator back once again and adjusted his weight over the seat.
WHARM-WHARM— WHOOOD—
“Come on, come on.”
WHOOSH.
The MagCycle kicked in and darted towards the hospital entrance. A lane snaked off from the parking lot and shot into the distance. All Maar had to do was turn the bike gingerly to the left and he’d escape to freedom.
Kaoz and Crain pushed their way past the civilians and jumped into the forecourt.
Kaoz lifted his gun at the escapee, “Four-five-one, stop your vehicle.”
The man couldn’t stop the vehicle if he tried. He didn’t know where the brakes were, for a start.
WHUDA-WHUDDA-WHUDDA.
Maar zipped forward and banked the vehicle to the left. The Cycle temporarily lost its magnetic connection with the ground and spun the vehicle around 180 degrees.
“Four-five-one, stop.”
Kaoz fired three shots in his direction. The civilians screamed in terror and hit the deck.
WHHIIIIRRRRR—
Maar gripped the handle bars, placed his left foot on the magnetic strip and pushed the bike back upright. He gripped the accelerator and blasted off at speed out of the forecourt.
Kaoz ran after him and entered the magnetic strip. He slipped around and nearly lost his balance.
He and Crain had no choice but to watch the man speed off into the distance.
“For God’s sake.”
Kaoz threw his gun on the ground and punched his fists together. He was about ready to throttle someone.
Crain looked away. He daren’t offer any attempt at contrition or apology for fear of being on the receiving end of Kaoz’s fury.
There was no time for theatrics, though.
Kaoz picked his gun from the floor and made his way to his 4x4.
CHAPTER SIX
The Control Deck
Space Opera Charlie - Level One
Alex lifted the flaps of his jacket away from Furie’s body as she slept on the flight deck.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Yes, like that. Thank you.”
Manny lifted into the air and angled her front cover at the kitten a few feet below.
“Commencing E-MRI.”
She emitted a blue scanner beam over the white, furry “F” on Furie’s forehead. The kitten shuffled and licked her mouth, comfortable in the relative warmth of the jacket lining.
“Is this really necessary?” Alex asked.
“If Jelly has brought a foreigner on board my vessel then I want it thoroughly vetted.”
Blip-beep.
A second beam projected a 3D image of Furie’s internal organs. Furie’s lungs, heart, stomach, liver, and pancreas glowed purple within the contours of the image.
“All seems to check out. The organism is in proper operating order by all accounts,” Manny said as she shifted closer to her subject, “Hmm. Interesting.”
Alex moved to the flight deck, ready to assist, “What?”
“One moment, please.”
The beam thickened as it ran over Furie’s beating heart.
“Where’s Jelly?” Manny asked, suddenly anxious.
***
Jelly wasn’t in the mood for company.
She trusted Alex to look after proceedings while she enjoyed some alone time in the first level walkway.
The busted airlock hung thirty feet away.
The very same area where she’d witnessed the execution of her second daughter at the hands of Mastazita.
Where Tripp had turned and attacked his crew.
The same wall she discovered her youngest daughter’s body concealed within Jaycee’s leg compartment.
Opera Charlie barely afforded opportunity for solace. Besides, she’d yet to explore the ship in any great detail.
The battered electric box provided a place to perch her behind and run events of the past day or so through her mind. When they’d defeated the crew of Opera Charlie, they were so close to escaping Enceladus and Saturn’s orbit.
If only it weren’t for the unexplained circumstance of being pulled to the planet they were stranded on.
She stared at the USARIC headgear communication device in her hands. Reluctantly, she slung the hooks over each ear and angled the mouthpiece in front of her teeth.
A moment later, she forgot she wore them, and couldn’t help but review the events of the past few days.
Why did those on board Opera Charlie try to kill her family, she wondered. How did Alex manage to help stop them?
How did she get in this mess in the first place?
“Jelly? This is Alex. Are you there, yet?”
The sniffling and howling from the wolves outside threatened to break her train of concentration.
“Ugh, humans.”
She rose to her feet and pinched the mouthpiece on her headgear, “Yeah, Hughes. I’m here.”
“Good,” Alex’s voice dampened as Jelly stood up straight, “There’s a box to your immediate left on the wall through the door you came in. You’ll find carbon fiber ropes in there.”
“The Motary?”
Alex’s voice contained a twinge of confusion, “Uh, yes? Why, aren’t you at the Motary?”
“No, not yet.”
“Why not? Where are you?”
Jelly licked the side of her paw. She made her way to the staircase without the feeling the need to explain her actions.
“I’m going now, Alex.”
“What have you been doing for the past ten minutes?”
“I, uh—”
“—Whatever. Just buzz me when you get there, okay?”
“Fine.”
The static dulled into nothingness as Jelly’s foot hit the top step. She clung to the railings to assist her descent.
Star Cat: Exodus: A Science Fiction & Fantasy Adventure (The Star Cat Series - Book 5) Page 7