WHOOOOSH.
Jamie clutched the door handle, swinging back and forth on the opened door.
“Agggghhhh,” he screamed as the tips of his shoes grated against the road.
Noyin pushed himself out of his seat and reached out to him, “Anderson, take my hand.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Rana looked over her shoulder and gasped, “Oh, for God’s sake.”
She slammed on the brakes.
The van’s tires screeched along the freeway, grinding the van to a sudden halt.
A MagCycle zoomed towards Jamie hanging from the door, “Ahh, no!”
Noyin grabbed Jamie’s hand and pulled him into the van.
The cyclist couldn’t slow down in time.
WHUDDA-WHUDDAAAA-SMASSSHHH.
The front of her MagCycle smashed into the door and whizzed into the air like a fat ninja star.
The cyclist lost control of the bike.
The underside of the cycle slid away from the strip, lost its magnetic connection, and slammed into the ground. The cyclist yelped as she went over the bars and hit the verge.
Scores of cars screeched to a halt behind the van and blared their horns.
“Damn it, Rana,” Sierra returned to her seat, “Drive. Now.”
Noyin pressed his elbow against Jamie’s chest, forcing him into his seat, “Bad move, Anderson.”
“Let go of me,” Jamie screamed.
“He’s hysterical, he’s flipping out,” Rana slammed her foot on the gas and spun the wheels of the van, “Do something.”
Sierra grabbed her stun gun from the vacant seat next to her and held it to Jamie’s forehead, “Anderson?”
“No, no, no, you’re going to kill me—”
“—Shut up.”
He screamed through his tears as he tried to fend off Noyin’s attempts to pin him to his seat. The boy’s efforts were going to be futile. He slumped in his chair and closed his eyes.
“Please, don’t shoot me—”
“—I said shut up,” Sierra lifted the stun gun away from his face and turned to Noyin, “Roll his sleeve up.”
“What?”
“I said roll his sleeve up,” Sierra spat. “We have a flight to catch and I’ll be damned if he kicks up a fuss before we get there.”
“Okay, okay,” Noyin grabbed Jamie’s left arm and rolled the fabric on his shirt along his forearm.
He stared at Jamie’s Individmedia Ink, which blinked and beeped back at him.
“Someone’s calling,” Noyin said. “Who is it?”
Jamie slowed his breathing to a near-halt, “My mom.”
“Nu-uh, not today,” Sierra pushed the end of the stun gun against the ink on Jamie’s forearm, “Sorry about this Jamie. You’ve given us no option.”
She bit her lip and hooked her index finger around the trigger.
Jamie’s eyes widened with utter terror, “No, no, p-please—”
SCHJUNT-ZWIPP.
The stun connector daggered into his arm and delivered several volts into his arm. He slumped back in his seat and passed out before sliding into Noyin’s lap.
Sierra took a deep breath. She took a moment to look at his face and evaluate her actions.
Jamie began to snore.
“I hate that they’ve made us do this,” she returned the stun gun to the passenger seat and sat back into hers. Noyin didn’t know what to do with the passed-out child on his lap. He looked at Sierra for some reassurance.
She took offense to his crap-eating looks.
“It wasn’t my fault. He tried to escape.”
“Sure. You did what you had to do. Right?”
Sierra wasn’t completely on board with his assessment, but needed to confirm her actions for the sake of her own sanity, “Right.”
Bedfont Air Force Base
West London, United Kingdom
The huge, mesh gate slid across and allowed the van to roll up to the booth beside the barrier.
Rana slowed the van down and rolled down the window, “Hey.”
The security guard stepped out of the booth, and noted the registration plate.
“You’re late.”
“I know, we had a bit of trouble,” Rana nodded at the side of the van and its missing door.
The security guard noticed the young boy snoring in the passenger seat, “Who’s that?”
“None of your business,” Rana said. “We have a scheduled take-off at nine forty-five.”
Sierra and Noyin smiled at the security guard like a pair of busted puppies, “Hi.”
“That’s just weird.”
The security guard took a paper from Rana’s hand and allowed them through, “Whatever. Have a good flight.”
The van crossed the landing strip, passing a dozen stationary aircraft at the edge of the field.
Rana pointed at a jet plane at the end of the runway, “We’re here. Are we waking Anderson up, or keeping him tame?”
Sierra smiled at Jamie’s sleeping, angelic face.
“No, we’ll let him wake up naturally. Let’s get on board,” she turned to Noyin, “Are you okay to carry him?”
He looked down at the kid and felt around his legs and arms, “He’s light enough. We’ll be fine.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to zap him again,” Sierra said as she climbed out of the van, “I’m not sure his puny little body can take much more punishment.”
Chapter 5
Control Deck
Space Opera Charlie - Level One
Jelly felt calm and at peace. The darkness didn’t disturb her in the slightest. She’d woken from her sleep but had yet to open her eyelids.
Silence.
What a crazy dream, though.
Something about a spaceship going through a vortex, scuppering their chances of getting back home once and for all.
Clink-Clunk.
The tips of her infinity claws hit something just as hard and cold as she was lying on.
She shifted her shoulders around which caused a grating sound right behind her ears.
“Huh?”
Her claws crept up her sides, along jagged sections of unfastened exo-suit.
Something wasn’t right.
A sliver of dulled light sliced across the darkness, revealing a blurred vision of swinging things.
“Uhm, uhm,” she croaked and coughed as the slit across the darkness expanded vertically. A bleary visual rendition of a place she knew reasonably well focused into view.
An oblong object peered from the right-hand side and looked into her face. It began to speak, but the voice was too dull and muffled to be understood. It appeared to be asking a question judging by the tone and brevity of the delivery.
“Whum? Whum-Bwar-Fwuhn?” the voice appeared to ask.
Jelly closed her eyes and shook her head.
Then, she opened her eyelids as wide as possible.
The ceiling whizzed up past her head.
The communications panel tilted into view and waved from side to side.
“Whum?” the voice morphed into crystal clear familiarity, “Whu—are you okay? Jelly?”
“Ugh, my h-head,” she muttered and sat upright on the ground, “Wh-what happened?”
“It’s not good, pet.”
Alex’s voice blasted through her right ear like an intense migraine.
She grabbed her ears and screamed, “Yaaooow. Miew.”
“Oh,” Alex grabbed her shoulders and examined her face, “Sorry, Jelly. How are you feeling?”
She moved her paws away from her head. Her eyes averted to his and then to the remains of the flight deck.
Space Opera Charlie appeared to be dead.
The emergency lights were on, as was the communications panel. Beeps and whirs from the mechanism underscored the intense feeling of unease.
Then, Jelly remembered where she was.
She grabbed Alex’s wrists and yanked him forward, suddenly feeling a mere quarter of the half-cat, half-woman she was use
d to.
“My babies—”
“—Yes, don’t worry, they’re—”
“—Where are my babies? Take me to my babies.”
Alex adjusted his face mask and offered her his right hand, “Here.”
She slammed her palm into his and rose to her feet. It took her a second or two to adjust to the awkwardly-angled ship.
It sat at a peculiar degree.
Most of the detritus, including shards from the shattered windshield, had slid across to the right of the deck and collected against the wall.
“Ugh, what happened?”
“We don’t know,” Alex stepped back and pointed at a perfectly still holographic encyclopedia suspended in the air, “We’ve asked Manny to run a sit-rep. We know we have oxygen for the time being.”
“Miew,” a tiny voice came from behind Alex’s bent arm. A brown kitten with a white “F” on its forehead.
Alex looked down with her and smiled, “Don’t worry, she’s perfectly fine.”
Jelly yawned. The fur-laden skin on her face stretched back, briefly showing her sharp fangs. Alex gasped - for just a split second, during Jelly’s facial stretch, she looked like a vision of utter hell and destruction.
“Jeez,” Alex said. “Warn me when you’re going to do that.”
She licked her mouth and swallowed, “Why?”
“You look scary when you yawn.”
“It’s not my fault,” she held out her infinity claws and nodded at her daughter in his arms, “Give me her.”
“Sure.”
Alex passed the kitten to her. She slid her right paw over her left and lifted the sleeping kitten up to her face.
“Miew,” it yelped, softly, as Jelly’s cheek pressed against hers.
Alex watched in wonder as mother and daughter shared a moment together. Jelly’s nostrils flared, pushing her whiskers out, as she inhaled her daughter’s scent.
“I love you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ve lost too many people I love, and you’ll never be one of them.”
Alex couldn’t help but smile. The sight was rather touching. He cleared his throat and dared to break the connection.
“What are you going to name her?”
Jelly rubbed her nose up and down her daughter’s face and inspected her paws for signs of damage or defects.
Everything was well in that respect.
Jelly focused her eyes on the kitten’s forehead, “F.”
“Eff?” Alex repeated with confusion.
Jelly turned to Alex. She still couldn’t see his face properly through his gelatinous mask, “Where are my other babies?”
“We don’t know. Jaycee has your second child, I think. I’m not sure where your youngest is.”
“Take me to him.”
***
Jaycee hadn’t wasted any time since waking up an hour ago after they’d landed. He was furious about not having any answers.
So, he did what any USARIC chief of weapons and armor would do - he ventured into his new spacecraft and located the armory.
On Space Opera Charlie, USARIC Weapons & Armory was a modest unit located on the third level. Modest insofar as it took up the entire level.
Close to ten thousand square feet of arsenal.
Jaycee marveled at the set up.
Rows and rows of every USARIC-issued firearm imaginable.
Jaycee stomped forward along the first of twenty-five rows like a kid in a toy shop with an unlimited gift card.
“Holy Moly.”
He didn’t know where to begin. He lifted his left forearm to his face and pushed his thumb across the ink on his wrist, “Tripp, man. Come in.”
“This is Tripp. Jaycee, is that you?”
“Yeah. Charlie’s laid on some serious party tricks, here. Level Three. You gotta see this.”
“See what?” came the response from the pinpricks in Jaycee’s wrist.
“You’re never gonna believe me if I tell you.”
“Oh shi—” the connection dropped out for a few seconds as Tripp spoke.
Jaycee reached the end of the chamber and unhooked a giant shotgun from the hooks. A serious-looking, dark-green shotgun with a tripod mount and dual-end barrels.
“Oh no. No, no.”
Jaycee set the huge device to the ground and took a step back. He inspected the side of the barrel and smiled as he read the inscription.
“K-SPARK II?” Jaycee rubbed his hands together, shaking the sound from his wrist.
“Jaycee?” Tripp blurted, his tone of his voice intimating that he was close to freaking out, “Oh, no. We’re screwed. I can’t believe this.”
“What’s up, my friend?” Jaycee kicked the foot-long lever on the side of the K-SPARK II and armed it.
What looked like a thick, blue vein lit up and shook the turret around, preparing to fire.
“Oooh, not yet. Not yet—”
“—Jaycee, man,” Tripp’s croaked, “Get to the airlock on Level One, now. Don’t tell the others.”
Jaycee took the command seriously. He kissed his fingertips and planted them on the side of his new toy, “Wait up for me?”
The K-SPARK II lilted, performing a subtle ‘nodding’ action and slipped into pause mode.
Jaycee turned around and hightailed it out of the chamber, “Did you say Primary Airlock, Level One?”
Tripp answered without haste, “Yes, yes. I don’t know what to do. Christ, I—”
“—I’m coming. Whatever it is, wait for me,” Jaycee lowered his wrist and ran through the door.
STOMP-STOMP-STOMP.
Jaycee’s boots slammed up each step that took him to the first level of Opera Charlie.
He gripped the rail and hoisted himself up in a mad dash to find his Captain.
“Tripp?” he hollered as he reached the final step and turned the corner, “Where are the damn signs on this ship?”
No indication of any levels or directions from one area to the other.
The ship wasn’t big enough to waste money on signage.
Jaycee bounded through the walkway and slowed down, taking in the clean surroundings.
Just one, long cylindrical tunnel led to what surely should be the flight deck and control room. If only he’d taken more care in remembering how he’d gotten to the second floor.
A three-pronged fork in the central walkway would take him back where he’d come from, or to Tripp at the airlock. Worse, it might lead him right into Jelly and Alex at the control deck.
He looked left, and then right, unsure of where to turn.
Then, he heard a sniffing sound coming from the second turn.
“Is that you?” Jaycee asked and peered around the bend, “God, I hope it is. I can’t find anything on this damn ship.”
“Yeah,” Tripp’s voice came from the far end of the second walkway, “I’m here.”
Jaycee glanced at the remaining walkway and pursed his lips, taking care not to alert anyone other than Tripp to his presence.
“Hey, what’s up?”
He turned another corner and reached the Primary Airlock. Tripp stood in front of the shattered, bloodied hatch in a state of near-catatonia.
“What the hell happened to—”
Jaycee stopped speaking when he saw clumps of thin film slung over the shards in the first airlock hatch. A string of blood slid down towards the floor.
“I d-don’t know wh-what to do,” Tripp said, on the verge of tears.
Jaycee squinted at the object laying across Tripp’s palms and gasped.
“Oh no.”
Tripp nodded, shaking tears from his eyes.
For the first time in his relatively young life, Jaycee had no words. He didn’t know how to react.
“I can’t even—”
“—What are we going to tell her?” Tripp whispered. “We can’t keep it from her, can we?”
“Can’t we?” Jaycee tried, hoping to avert certain catastrophe.
“Of course we can’t,” Tripp spat.
A dead kitten. Its torso lacerated in three sections due to its impact with the inner airlock hatch.
Now he knew what had caused the damage.
“It must have happened when we crashed.”
Jaycee’s heart turned to stone, doubled in weight and crashed through his lungs and into the pit of his stomach.
Jaycee mustered up the courage to speak, “What do we do?”
“That’s what I asked you.”
“I dunno, you fool,” Jaycee screamed back, before adjusting his voice, “I’m not a dead cat expert.”
Tripp lowered his hands and covered the ball of fur with his left hand, “You wanna take this and go back there and show her what happened to her baby?”
“Hell no. Who knows how she’ll react?” Jaycee asked, hoping his paranoia wasn’t shared by his Captain.
“On this occasion, I’m pretty damn sure I know what her reaction will be.”
“No arguments here. She’ll kick ten bells of crap out of us.”
Scratch-scratch-scratch.
A muffled ‘meow’ came from Jaycee’s crotch. He and Tripp looked down at his groin in confusion.
“What the hell is that?” Tripp asked.
Squeak-critch.
“You didn’t take Landaker’s genitals while you were at it, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t. Don’t be stupid,” Jaycee shook his head and double-took, “No, wait. It’s Jelly’s second kitten.”
He thumped the catch on his thigh.
WHUMP.
It opened up and revealed a shivering cat clutching at one of the dumb bombs.
“Whoa, whoa. No,” Jaycee slid his glove under the kitten’s back and tried to lift her out, “That’s not a toy, little one.”
“We told you about those damn grenades.”
It sank its teeth into the pin, trying to get back to the comfort of Jaycee’s thigh compartment.
“Come out of there, you little—”
TCHING.
The pin came free in the kitten’s mouth as Jaycee lifted her out. He and Tripp looked at each other in terror.
“Oh dear.”
Tick-tick-tick…
Star Cat The Complete Series Page 74