Star Cat: Killer Instinct

by Andrew Mackay

  He looked up and wiped a tear from his cheek, “My mom gave it to me after my Dad died. And she got me Jelly after that. Happy now?”

  Sierra smiled and winked at him. She handed the necklace back and nodded at his side pocket, “Sure. Keep it on you. Make sure you don’t lose it.”

  “Well, guys,” Siyam strutted his stuff and danced toward the table with the young girl and boy in tow, “Lookie what I found playing by the holoscope.”

  Sierra waved at the two kids, “Hey, guys. This is Jamie.”

  The girl and Jamie held their gaze at each other for way longer than necessary. Both kids were about the same age as Jamie.

  “Anderson?” the girl asked, suppressing the urge to explode with excitement, “Jamie Anderson?”

  He recognized her West coast American accent and high intonation immediately, “Oh, God.”

  Her face seemed familiar, as well.

  Sierra chuckled, “Jamie, this is Leesa Task. I think you guys have met, haven’t you?”

  “Leesa?” Jamie gasped. “Star Cat Project Leesa?”

  “Star Cat Project Jamie Anderson? Jelly Anderson?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jamie adjusted to the five year addition to her face and frame, “But, you’re so… big, now?”

  She smiled coquettishly at him, ”So are you.”

  Jamie bit his lip and smiled at Sierra, who grinned back at him.

  “And I think you know this guy, too.”

  “Huh?” Jamie turned to the young boy’s thick, black eyebrows and pale face.

  “Anderson,” the boy said with no hint of amusement. His Russian accent was as clear as day, “Your cat killed my cat.”

  Jamie’s eyebrows nearly lifted over his forehead, across his scalp and down the back of his head.

  That Russian accent, albeit deeper and huskier than he’d remembered.

  “Remy?”

  “Yes, it is me,” he said. “I knew they were bringing another owner, but I never would have guessed in one million years it would be you.”

  “But, but—” Jamie failed to comprehend the meaning of this impromptu reunion, “Why?”

  “I do not know. English.”

  Remy jumped onto the table and made a dash for Jamie, “Jelly killed my baby Bisoubisou, and now I am going to kick you in your asshole.”

  “Agh, no,” Jamie ran away from the table as Remy’s ass slid across the surface.

  “Come here, English.”

  Remy’s legs swept the lunch box off the edge and onto the floor, before jumping onto the ground and running after Jamie.

  Jamie backed up against the van and held out his hands, “No, no, it wasn’t my fault. Leave me alone.”

  Sierra clapped her hands together as Remy ran up to Jamie and grabbed him by his short collar, “Hey, Gagarin.”

  “What it is now, stupid yankee?”

  “Don’t call me that, you cocky little comrade,” Sierra said. “Us Americans beat your commie asses in 1991 and ended the cold war, and I’m all for doing it again right now. Unhand Jamie.”

  Remy slammed Jamie against the van and snarled in his face, “This is not concluded. Jamie Anderson.”

  “Let go of me,” Jamie grabbed Remy’s hands and threw them away from his neck, “Ass-face.”

  “Shut up, English. I’ll kill you.”

  “Hey. No one’s killing anyone,” Rana shouted at the pair from the black wall, “Not yet, anyway. Now, stop feeling each other up and get over here.”

  Siyam chuckled to himself and shook his head, “That’s right, Rana. You tell ‘em.” He produced three circular slabs of metal from a compartment in the table and slung them down his forearm.

  “Bring them over here, we only have a few minutes.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your Black Gold on.”

  Leesa ran her hand over Mau’s head. Grace looked down and smiled at the girl, “She likes you, I think.”

  “She’s a good girl.”

  Mau ran the side of her face along the back of Leesa’s hand and purred up a storm.

  “Where did you find her?”

  Graced sighed, “It’s a long story. A little while ago, my friends set her free from USARIC. She ran away and escaped with the others. She managed to get the others away to safety.”

  “Really? Wow.”

  “Yup,” Grace smiled at the cat in her arms, “USARIC killed my friends when they tried to rescue them.”

  “Why?”

  Grace affected a wry smile, “Because, Leesa, I’m sorry to say that the world isn’t only full of nice people. There are bad ones, too.”

  Leesa scrunched her face and tried to digest the information, “Are USARIC the bad guys?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Actually, scratch that. They are the bad guys. No doubt about that.”

  Siyam held up the three metal discs - twelve inches in width, and with a hole in the center big enough for a human’s neck.

  “Okay, can everyone under the age of eleven please make your way over to me.”

  Sierra waved the kids over to Rana at the black wall, “Just over there, please.”

  Remy, Jamie, and Leesa reached Rana and Siyam, desperate to know what was about to happen.

  “Okay, guys.” Siyam unclipped the first disc and held it up to them. “These are called Decapidiscs.”

  “What it is?” Remy asked.

  “Come here, comrade,” Siyam joked in a crappy Russian accent. “It’s pretty cool. Here, I’ll show you.”

  Remy huffed and stepped forward.

  “Turn around.”

  Remy turned his back to Siyam, who slid the disc around the boy’s neck and left the catch unopened.

  “It’s known as a compliance unit. Don’t worry, you won’t be wearing them for long. They shut around your neck and rest on your shoulders.”

  “Like a necklace?” Jamie asked.

  “Exactly like a necklace, yes. Well done, Anderson.”

  SCHJUNT.

  Remy held out his arms and took a step forward. The Decapidisc fit perfectly around his neck with a couple inches to spare.

  “I have to say, I do not like this type of formal wear.”

  Siyam, Rana, Sierra, Noyin, and Grace burst out laughing. The kids didn’t seem terribly amused by the wanton, morbid amusement on their captors’ behalves.

  “What it is for?” Remy asked.

  “Probably best we don’t tell you,” Siyam continued. “Just think of it as a silly prop. Like in a movie,” Siyam looked to Remy, Jamie, and Leesa for a hint of recognition. “You remember movies, don’t you?”

  They all shook their heads - ‘no.’

  “Oh, well, they were stories people used to tell years ago. Never mind, don’t worry about that now.”

  Rana sighed and pointed at the wall, “Save the history lesson. Can we hurry this up, please?

  “Sure.”

  Siyam passed one of the two Decapidiscs to Jamie, and the other to Leesa, “Put these on. Just press the hole to your neck and clamp it shut. Job done.”

  Jamie and Leesa did as instructed.

  “Be careful not to pinch your skin when you close them.”

  They looked really silly wearing the death devices, but were certainly none-the-wiser as to their real purpose.

  “Cool, cool.”

  “Cool?” Jamie asked. “Is it cold in here?”

  “No, it means good. It’s an old saying.”

  “That’s just weird,” Leesa said. “This thing is heavy.”

  “It’s okay. As I say, you won’t be wearing them for long. Just for the transmission.”

  Jamie turned around and accidentally knocked the side of Remy’s Decapidisc with his own.

  CLONK.

  “Hey, English. Be careful.”

  “Jesus Christ, kids,” Sierra held out her hands. “Whatever you do, be very careful with those things. I mean it.”

  Ten Minutes Later…

  Grace smeared her face with a thick, transparent goo from a bla
ck container.

  Jamie, Remy, and Leesa sat on their knees in front of the R.A.G.E. text on the far wall.

  Grace wiped the rest of the goo across her neck, “Just stay where you are, children.”

  “Why are we on the floor?” Jamie asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you look right at my Viddy Media cuticle, here, when we go live,” Sierra removed her thumbnail and set it to the central table in the middle of the arena, “You see it?”

  The three kids nodded.

  “Good. Now, Grace is going to be talking. You don’t have to say anything at all.”

  Siyam interjected, “Actually, it might help if you looked really worried and scared.”

  “Why?” Jamie asked.

  Sierra grimaced and sighed, “Because, Jamie. We’re going to issue USARIC with an ultimatum. We’re going—”

  “—What does ultimate-mum mean?” Leesa asked.

  “Ugh,” Siyam muttered, “Don’t they teach you anything in school, anymore?”

  “Not if we’re kidnapped trying to get there,” Jamie said, ultra-pleased with himself.

  “Let’s see how funny you are when you try to speak without any teeth.”

  “Siyam,” Sierra snapped. “Stop threatening them.”

  He snorted and placed his hands on his hips, “Okay, well, allow me to do what your teachers obviously couldn’t. Ultimatum. It means we give them a choice to do one thing or another.”

  “What lessense is this?” Remy climbed to his knees and felt along the rim of his Decapidisc, “These imbeciles are going to kill us.”

  “Sit down, Gagarin,” Sierra snapped. “We’re not going to kill you.”

  “How can we know this for sure?”

  “You don’t have a choice, comrade,” Siyam barked at him. “Either you sit back down, or I active the Decapidisc. Which is it?”

  Remy scowled and returned to his knees, “I hate you.”

  Leesa put two and two together and beamed, “Was that an ultimatum?”

  Siyam nodded, “Yes. Well-spotted, young lady.”

  Sierra turned to the three children and then to Grace, “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’m always ready.”

  “Cliche city,” Sierra muttered with a healthy degree of disdain for her colleague.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Sierra blurted and focused on her thumbnail. “Noyin?”

  “Yup,” Noyin sat at the computer banks ready to punch in a command on the antiquated keyboard on her lap, “Ready when you are.”

  Grace produced a shotgun from under the central table. She gripped it with both hands as she approached the kneeling children.

  She stood behind Remy, the second of the three, and ‘accidentally’ knocked the back of his head with her knee.

  “Ouch.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Stupid Americans.”

  “Wait, let me get central,” Grace shuffled an inch to the side and ‘accidentally’ knocked the back of Remy’s head with her knee again.

  “For God’s sake, woman.”

  Grace snorted, “Sorry, must have slipped.”

  “Can the pair of you stop flirting and concentrate, please?” Sierra snapped.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Grace said.

  Sierra pointed at the thumbnail, “Kids, look sad.”

  She pressed the fleshy part of her thumb down on the thumbnail, “Noyin, hit the frequency, please.”

  “You got it.”

  Noyin typed away on the keyboard and placed it on the panel. She reached over her head and slid down a bizarre-looking pair of black spectacles over her eyes.

  “Frequency hop, four, four, niner.”

  CLICK.

  The thumbnail spat an infrablue line at the floor. The flat, blue beam waded up the three children, past their heads, and hit the back wall.

  It crept up Grace’s body, past the R.A.G.E. text, and bounced off the domed ceiling.

  A ten foot high rectangular live feed appeared adjacent to the real scene.

  Sierra looked at Grace and saw her readying herself. She closed her eyes and cleared her throat.

  “Noyin, let me know when,” Grace said.

  “Ten seconds.”

  Sierra looked at the live feed, along with Noyin and Siyam. The image displayed a two second delay. The three children were in the shot, but there was something uniquely bizarre about Grace.

  Her face appeared on the screen, utterly featureless, like a smooth elbow.

  No eyes.

  No nose.

  No mouth.

  Just a giant canvas of flesh.

  Sierra pointed at the live feed and nodded at Grace, “Black Gold is perfect. Totally obscured.”

  “Five seconds till frequency intercept,” Noyin added.

  “Good,” Sierra stepped back and winked at the kids, “Remember, Jamie. Remy. Leesa. Act scared.”

  They did as instructed. No crying or ridiculous amounts of emotion. It wasn’t much of a stretch for them to look pained, just a modest amount of willingness to remember what had genuinely happened to them, today.

  It showed on their faces, this time.

  “Here we go,” Noyin said.

  Sierra perched herself at the end of the table and mimed lifting a firearm in her hands, “Good luck, everyone.”

  Grace pressed the side of her shotgun to her chest.

  USARIC Research & Development Institute

  Port D’Souza

  (One hundred miles north of Laguna Vista)

  Crain McDormand ran across at the center’s metal walkway with a look of sheer hell and urgency on his face.

  “Jesus Christ, this is insane.”

  Kaoz, Maar Sheck’s guard, escorted him towards the bunker, “Sir, please. Keep your voice down.”

  “Don’t you understand, you cretin?” Crain huffed and wheezed, clutching his folder to his chest, “This requires immediate action.”

  The pair reached the door.

  “Hurry up, hurry up.”

  “Please, Crain. Remain calm,” Kaoz placed his glove on the wall panel and opened the door.

  It slid open and Crain bolted in.

  Maar was asleep on his chair with his feet on the desk.

  “Wake up,” Crain slammed his papers to the desk, jolting Maar out of his slumber.

  “Wha-what is it?”

  Crain unrolled a sliver of thin, plastic membrane and plastered it on the opposite wall.

  “This,” he said. “Viddy media. One-one-eight.”

  “What, what is it?”

  “Commence replay,” Crain said. “This was broadcast about two minutes ago, which means we have fifty-eight minutes to act.”

  The membrane shimmied to life along the surface of the wall.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Maar launched into a tirade, but stopped talking when he recognized the boy’s face on the screen, “Is that Jamie Anderson?”

  “Yes, and it gets worse.”

  Crain lifted his palm up, which raised the volume from the membrane on the wall.

  A faceless Grace dressed in black stood in front of the R.A.G.E. text.

  “We are RAGE. Rebels Against Genetic Engineering, broadcasting on a frequency of one, one, eight. Viddy Media.”

  Her voice had been altered as she spoke. Her regular sultry, dulcet tones, warped into a bizarre electronic growl, like that of a large cat.

  “What the hell is this?” Maar asked.

  “Just watch, sir.”

  Grace continued, “The Rebels Against Genetic Engineering have a message for USARIC and their bottom line. Put your morals where your mouth is. Prove to the world, all twelve billion individuals potentially watching now on their Viddy Media, that you are who you say you are. That you have our citizens interests at heart. Come out from behind the shadows. We will afford you this opportunity.”

  Maar sat back in his chair and felt his heart turn to stone, “Oh no. No, no, no.”

 
“Keep watching.”

  Grace cocked her shot gun and aimed it at the back of Jamie’s face, “Kneel before us, like the three children you corrupted on the five-year anniversary of the Star Cat Project.”

  The boy burst into tears.

  “Jesus Christ, no,” Maar said. “What the—”

  “—You stripped these three children’s souls when you took advantage of them. See here, Jamie Anderson. An inadvertent participant in the wanton destruction and perversion of science. Why prolong the misery?”

  Grace moved the barrel of the shotgun to Remy’s head.

  “United Kingdom took part. You tantalized the Russians, as well. Remy Gagarin, whose cat you willfully allowed to be murdered at the hands of the winner.”

  “No, do not shoot me,” Remy blubbed. “It w-wasn’t my f-fault—”

  “—Shut the hell up,” Grace screamed, before arriving at Leesa. “And finally, a homegrown effort. From our own turf. The United States and Russia colluded. A confederation guilty as sin.”

  She pressed the barrel at the back of Leesa’s head.

  “No, this has to s-stop,” Maar stammered, feeling the fear of God enter his soul for the first time in his life, “Please, Crain. Tell me this didn’t happen.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Maar ran his hands through his hair, not knowing how to react.

  Grace pulled her gun away from Leesa’s head.

  “It is not us who are killers. It is you. USARIC,” Grace walked around the children and leaned into the replay. Her barren, skin-laden face all the more terrifying.

  “Maar Sheck,” she growled with a healthy dose of venom.

  Maar’s jaw dropped. He felt as if she had addressed him directly from within the bunker.

  “We know you’re watching, Maar. Everyone knows you’re watching from whichever cesspit you’ve chosen to run to. You can hide, but you can’t run.”

  Grace pointed at the Decapidiscs on each child’s neck and lifted her gloved, right hand.

  “You have one hour to release the non-human subjects from your facility at Cape Claudius. Arrange for a complete and utter shutdown of USARIC’s planned operations. If you do not agree to our terms, the children - your superstars and conspirators - will lose their heads.”

  Maar gasped and held his hands in front of his face like a frightened little boy, “Oh, God.”