Star Cat: Exodus: A Science Fiction & Fantasy Adventure (The Star Cat Series - Book 5)

by Andrew Mackay

  A polite round of applause whipped up from the mid-section of the audience, a million miles away from being the fantastic event that Maar had hoped for.

  “Thank you, Maar.”

  In his late-fifties, Arden possessed a world-ready look about him. He spoke with authority and certainly wasn’t one for playing around.

  “I want to draw your attention to our dedicated team of officers and soldiers who are ready to secure and protect the law of the land. Indeed, it is these men and women who uphold the values of this great nation, who are willing to put their lives on the line for us. These great men and women are the true heroes.”

  Everyone turned to the soldiers and attempt to convey thanks, only to be met by stony, steel-faced silence.

  The footage on the display revealed the mass exodus program in action. Hundreds of IRI officials and USARIC mercenaries ushered Russian immigrants of all shapes and sizes into giant trucks.

  “We expect the IRI’s Project Exodus program to conclude a couple of years from now, to allow for a smooth transition for those misfits who remain on our turf. Rest assured, that any man, woman, or child who doesn’t belong here will not remain for much longer.”

  The next sequence displayed dozens of civilians having their Individimedia Ink checked by the officials, who scanned the three lines and sent them into a waiting pool by the harbor.

  A swift and efficient program - the first of its kind. Delicate, caring, and with a sense of authority, the classification of Russian nationals - ‘misfits’ - can return home in the knowledge that they are doing a great deed for their country, and our great nation.

  “Thank you,” Arden finished and stepped away from the podium. Maar took his place and spoke into the microphone.

  “I know many of you are keen to know about the recent events in the Gulf of Mexico. We can assure our shareholders and those who retain an interest in the company that we at USARIC are doing everything we can to ascertain the nature of the development.”

  Maar pointed at the far end of the parking lot and traced the end of his finger along the horizon.

  “Not fifty miles from here, something strange occurred in the depths of the gulf. A tree-like substance emerged from the water and remains there to this day, ostensibly fueled by a transmission of light coming from the moon.”

  The graphic above the podium revealed a swarm of USARIC helicopters flying around the tree top, careful to avoid the beam blasting into the summit.

  It doesn’t have a name, and is unconnected to anything previously found in space. The International Moon Station at this time does not know the source of the signal it is transmitting.”

  A mega-copter hovered close to the top branch. The mercenary inside prepared to rappel out from the door using a thick wire attached to the floor.

  He jumped down and landed on the branch with relative ease. Footage of scientists in the research facility gathered around to smile at the removed section of the tree, which remained dormant.

  Our very best scientists have endeavored to collect samples for forensic analysis. A potential game-changer sits in our midst, for all of humankind. A substance and life force, we believe, that is not of this planet.

  Maar snapped his fingers and closed the graphic display above the podium.

  “I have a couple of announcements to make after this, but I’m happy to field any questions you may have,” he said, making eyes at a silver-haired fellow in a lavish suit in the first row of seats.

  Santiago Sibald, raised his hand - and accompanying drone - up to podium level.

  “Santiago?”

  “Yes, Maar,” he said. “Can you reveal USARIC’s next phase of space exploration, please?”

  Maar chuckled and walked to the side of the podium, “I’m glad you asked me that. It’s very interesting question—”

  “Hey, Maar,” another man shouted from the second row; one who wasn’t “in” on the self-congratulatory one-upmanship.

  “Uh, yes?”

  “Is it true you had the last explorer vessel, Space Opera Charlie, go to Saturn to kill everything there?”

  Everyone turned, wide-eyed, to the reporter who had the balls to ask such a question.

  Maar screwed his face and took offense, “Who are you?”

  “No one you need know, Maar. Just answer the question.”

  “No. It is not true.”

  A woman in a suit lifted her drone into the air and snapped her fingers.

  BZZZZ.

  The drone belonged to Dreenagh Remix. She had everyone’s attention, now.

  “Maar Sheck, can you confirm that Space Opera Beta was manned by artificial intelligent beings, commonly known as Manning/Synapse’s variant on their Androgyne series?”

  “No, no, it’s not true,” Maar protested and turned to Arden, who refused to help him out.

  “Who let this stupid woman in here?”

  He turned to Dreenagh and folded his arms in defiance.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Everyone’s been talking about it,” Dreenagh said. “In fact, there are a few children who’d like to know why their cats went missing shortly after the Star Cat Project.”

  Maar felt his brow start to sweat, “What?”

  “You heard me, Maar Sheck,” Dreenagh said. “What can you tell us about the winner of the Star Cat Project?”

  The crowd began to murmur and side with Dreenagh and demand an answer.

  “Bisoubisou Gagarin was the unfortunate victim in a sepsis attack—”

  “—No,” Dreenagh shouted at him and rose from her seat, “Not Bisoubisou. I’m talking about Jelly Anderson, the British entrant who really won and was sent with Opera Beta to decode Saturn Cry.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” one of the USARIC mercenaries stepped forward and grabbed Dreenagh’s shoulder, “Citizen, come with me.”

  She wrenched her arm away from his hand, “Get off of me. You can’t stop the truth from getting out, Maar Sheck.”

  “Truth?” he yelled back at the top of his lungs, furious with the dismal reaction to his speech, “You want the truth?”

  “Yes, we demand the truth,” Dreenagh snapped.

  Maar hung his head as the thousand-strong crowd stared at him for a reaction.

  The embarrassment factor was palpable.

  Arden climbed down the podium stairs and met with his team behind the stage.

  “Truth, truth, truth,” the crowd chanted.

  “Ugh,” Maar muttered and pinched his thumbnail between his fingers, “Not a moment too soon.”

  “Truth, truth, truth.”

  He lifted his head and winked at Brayn, who stood by Arden on the ground at the stage leg.

  “Oh, no, Maar. Not now.”

  Maar turned to the audience, “It’s the least you deserve. Yes, it is true that Jelly Anderson went with Space Opera Beta to Saturn. It is also true that they disappeared.”

  The crowd gasped in shock.

  “And yes, it’s true, we sent Opera Charlie to find them. USARIC and Manning/Synapse have collaborated the past few years to build mechanisms for use with the American Star Fleet—”

  CLICK.

  “—And here’s an example of it, seeing as you’re all so desperate for answers.”

  The podium box bounced around on the stage, from left to right, as if testing its own body for the first time.

  WHIRRR.

  The lid liquefied and rippled end to end, twisting into the air like a rope of muddied water.

  The crowd gasped and jumped out of their seats, terrified.

  “Citizens,” Maar said into his forearm, “Please remain seated and observe.”

  SCHLOOOOOO — CRICK.

  The body of the podium burst sideways and produced two giant, mechanical legs.

  STOMP — STOMP.

  The bus-sized feet smashed down onto the stage floor, creating two giant craters.

  The box
turned from a brown, wooden-color and twisted in all direction like a Rubik’s cube, eventually forming into a droid with eyebulbs in its oblong-shaped head.

  “My G-God,” a female attendee shrieked in terror at the monstrosity, “What the hell is that thing?”

  Maar rubbed his hands together and replaced his thumbnail onto his digit, “Citizens, what you are witnessing is the next stage in military hardware. DD-12. One of many death droid.”

  SCHTOMP — SLAMMM.

  The silver-faced behemoth lunged onto the tarmac in front of the stage and swung its right arm forward.

  TCH-SCHUNT.

  A mini-gun flew up the length of its arm and snapped into its “palm.”

  “Citizen,” it said with a guttural veneer of animosity, “Refrain from movement.”

  “Does that answer your question, Dreenagh?”

  As Maar waved his right arm, so, too, did the death droid.

  SWISH — WOOSH.

  The barrel on the mini-gun spun around at full pelt.

  “Yes, Maar,” Dreenagh said. “It answers my question.”

  Maar returned his arm to the side of his leg, as did the death droid.

  “Sleep.”

  BZZZZ-OWWWW.

  The droid shut down and hung its head.

  “Five tons of sheer droid. Nowhere for any misfit to hide. A perfect compliance directive for the nation.”

  The crowd calmed down, albeit momentarily. They didn’t know whether to stick around or run away screaming.

  “What are you all looking at me like that for?” Maar snapped. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What, you expected the exodus of misfits to be easy? Ha. Wait till they get a load of this bad boy.”

  “We didn’t ask for this, Maar Sheck. This is USARIC’s fault,” Dreenagh shouted. “And we have it for the whole world to see.”

  She lifted her arm above her head and sent her drone to get a good sniff around the stationery death droid.

  Maar’s anger reached peak level, “See this, citizens? This is what the government has agreed to. A mass exodus. Repatriation of citizens just like you, who can’t fight for themselves.”

  “Maar, don’t act hasty,” Brayn shouted from below the stage. “It’s not good PR.”

  “I don’t care,” Maar held his forearm to his mouth and roared into the microphones, “You hear me, citizens? You think you can assassinate members of USARIC and expect to get away with it?”

  Maar pointed at Dreenagh’s drone.

  “Fly that thing over here to my face, Ms. Remix.”

  She threw her hand forward and sent the drone flying across the top of the crowd, stopping a few inches short of his face.

  “You got it, asshole.”

  The display feed above the crowd burst to life as Maar held his thumbnail to the red light on Dreenagh’s drone.

  Biddip.

  Maar’s face appeared larger than life above the crowd.

  “Listen to me, RAGE,” Maar said. “You took Dimitri out of the game. You thought you won. And now, you make me out to be the bad guy? You and I both know you wouldn’t injure those children. But guess what? I do not care.”

  The crowd quietly and carefully made their way to the parking lot exit.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re all going?” Maar yelled at them, as did his enlarged live feed looming over them from the sky.

  “GET BACK HERE.”

  He stared into the drone and pointed his thumbnail at the death droid.

  “Watch this.”

  SPRITCH.

  DD-12 lifted its head and averted its eyebulbs at Dreenagh.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ—”

  “—Die.”

  Dreenagh tumbled over a plastic chair in a desperate bid to run for her life.

  WHIRRR —

  The mini-gun chamber spun around and fired off a round of bullets at her.

  The plastic chairs bounced into the air as constant stream of ammunition chewed up the tarmac and up her body. Dreenagh flew into the air in a haze of blood and bullets and slammed to the ground, dead.

  “Who’s next?” the death droid turned its gun on the crowd.

  They screamed and ran in all directions.

  “Haha,” Maar chuckled as he watched his great, new creation instill fear into the thousands of doomed citizens.

  They couldn’t run to the exit or any of the fences. USARIC and IRI mercenaries and soldiers stepped forward and pointed their guns at them.

  “Stay where you are.”

  Santiago gasped as he saw Maar reach for Dreenagh’s drone. He darted over to Brayn behind the elevated stage and took cover.

  “Going well, isn’t it?” Brayn chuckled.

  “The man’s lost his freaking mind.”

  Maar angled the drone’s lens at his own face, “We know where you are, RAGE. And I want my subjects back, unscathed and unmolested. In perfect working order.”

  The death droid opened fire on the frightened crowd, murdering scores of them with its mini-gun.

  Maar flinched into the camera with every stomp and scream and death call taking place behind the drone.

  “You want war?”

  He winked into the drone and turned it around to face the droid murdering the fleeing citizens.

  “You got it.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Space Opera Charlie

  BANG — SCRATCH — BAAMMM.

  A strange noise came from the airlock at the far end of the level one walkway.

  Apprehensive, Manny lowered herself to the floor and carefully hovered towards the airlock.

  BAM-BAM-BAM.

  The muffled howls from the beasts on the other side was almost deafening.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God,” Manny’s front cover beeped, “Can anyone hear me?”

  No one answered.

  “Damn,” she said and braved the investigation, floating even closer to the airlock. She threw a blue light out where the inner door used to be.

  Biddip-beep.

  The light recorded the outer hatch pounding back and forth against the commotion from outside.

  BAM-BAM-SCHLLAAAMM.

  The top of the hatch split into three sections and spat dust onto the ground, “Oh, God. They’re getting in.”

  PANG — SCRITCH-SCRATCH.

  “Someone help, they’re getting in,” Manny yelped and spread her covers, flapping as fast as she could back down the walkway.

  Weapons & Armory

  Space Opera Charlie - Level Three

  Alex walked through the door and took in the enormity of the area.

  Ten thousand square feet housed twenty-five rows of weapons and armor.

  “Manny, do you read me?” Alex said into his headgear.

  “Yes, yes, I read you,” she said. “Do you read them out there?”

  “Who? Those dog things?”

  “Yes. They’re attacking the airlock. It’s only a matter of time before they get in. We need to find Jelly and Furie and protect her.”

  Alex laid eyes on the first row of weapons. D-REZ sub machine guns as far as the eye could see - or count. He raced over and unlatched three of them.

  “They’re sitting ducks in the control deck, Manny,” he said as he slung each of the three over his left shoulder, “Get them out of there and meet me in W&A.”

  “I just hope she wants to come with.”

  “Tell her she has no choice,” Alex inspected the third D-REZ and thumped the safety catch off, arming the device. “Get here. Now.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Bzzz.

  Alex raced over to the left-hand wall and pulled the compartment to the side.

  Dozens of gas masks and breathing apparatus lined the wall.

  “Let’s pray this works,” he said, swiping three of them from the wall.

  He pulled one of them over his head, pinched the base and yanked the gelatinous, transparent facade down the front of his face.

  His breathing doubled in sound as he tried to adjust his
oxygen levels.

  Beep-beep-beep.

  He rolled his sleeve up his forearm and checked his Individimedia panel.

  Oxygen levels: Steady.

  “Good, good,” he lifted his head and kicked the end of the first row of weapons.

  BRRRRRR-ZOW.

  The entire length of the metal sunk into the ground.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” he fumed.

  The tiled floor opened up and swallowed the row of submachine guns.

  The second row contained a number of original K-SPARK firearms.

  “No, too bulky,” Alex thought aloud, “Although.”

  He snatched one from its housing and checked under the barrel, “Yeah, what the hell. These will do.”

  He grabbed a second K-SPARK and slung both of them over his right shoulder.

  Finally, on the wall beside the door, a compartment housed an array of smart grenades.

  Alex hopped over to it and rubbed his hands, “Come to Daddy, you beautiful things.”

  Alex held out his hand and scooped two smart bombs into his palm. He attached both to his belt, and then - one by one - picked up five more and clipped them to his waist.

  WHUMP.

  He shoved the compartment up against the wall and took a step back. His right hand lifted to his forehead and, for maybe the last time in his life, he saluted USARIC’s generosity.

  “Pleasure serving you.”

  Alex hit the panel on the wall and opened the door.

  “Manny?” he shouted into his mouthpiece, “I’m tooled up. I’m coming up to help you.”

  Manny approached the control deck door and saw the side of Jelly’s face looking at something.

  “I’m there,” Manny said. “Please, be quick. If those things get to the control deck and attack the place, I’ll be killed.”

  A distant sound of footsteps clanging across a metal gantry whirled through the contours of her holographic body, “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah, I’m on the staircase. Get Jelly and Furie out of there. Now.”

  BAM-BAM.

  Manny shuddered and ducked for cover as the sound of the wolves attacking the door rumbled along the walkway.