Did you spot it?
Cats attacking dogs - or in this case, wolves. It’s an indication of where I’m driving the series, and how it all might end. I’ll forewarn you, now, though - it might not be quite what you’re thinking.
Also, I’m curious to know if you saw a slightly different approach to narrative and structure in Killer Instinct.
You might not have noticed, but every odd-numbered chapter is set in space. Every even-numbered chapter is set on Earth. This was my attempt to balance two stories together with as equal weight as possible. We’re getting to that point, now, where the events on Earth are just as important as those in space. Again, an indication of what may (or may not?) be coming up next.
I enjoyed writing the sequences on Earth a lot. Hanging out with Jamie, his kidnapping and eventual integration into the RAGE group. It was a blast bringing back the other children to set them up for what lies ahead. I think what I loved most was the irony of RAGE’s actions. A large amount of humans get killed - most of them USARIC mercenaries - in the pursuit of rescuing animals. I find that dichotomy fascinating. We’re reading a lot in the media, lately, about extreme left-wing groups silencing the opposition and, in many cases, turning to violence in order to underpin their liberal values. To me, a healthy debate and actually listening will get society where it needs to be a hell of a lot faster than violence. So, all those mega chase and action scenes - in my mind at least - operate on higher plane than just outright action. In RAGE’s attempt to do good, they actually make the world a little bit worse.
They may find that they’ll pay a price for this by the end of book 6.
I’m convinced now, of course, that Star Cat will in fact conclude with the sixth book. I’m not one for outstaying my welcome, or milking an idea beyond its value. Get in, tell a great story, and get out - and leave readers satisfied and, preferably, wanting more.
The tentative title for Book 5 is EXODUS - but I’m not settled on it right now. What I can tell you is that book 5 is a much different beast to Killer Instinct. I consider Killer Instinct to be something of an epic action-fest, wrought with anger and darker in tone to the others. Exodus (if book 5 ends up with that title) will be a shift in gear, and will have you on the edge of your seat in a different way to Killer Instinct.
I hope to see you at the end of book 5 when it’s out.
In the meantime, please email me and let me know what you thought of Killer Instinct. I love hearing from you. And I love reading your reviews at Amazon.com!
Andrew Mackay,
Hampshire, UK
(September 6th, 2018)
***
Star Cat 5: Exodus
Scratch First. Ask questions later.
Click here to continue the adventure right now
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‘Star Cat: Killer Instinct (Book Four)’
Copyright © 2018 Chrome Valley Books
Written by Andrew Mackay
Edited by Ashley Rose Miller
Cover design by Kveather
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (or somewhere in between), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Acknowledgments:
For K
Also to:
My immediate family.
All the CVB Gang Members / ARC Street Team.
Jennifer Long, Adele Embrey, and Barrie, as always!
The members and admins of 20BooksTo50K.
Up next: Star Cat 5: Exodus
Star Cat: Exodus
Scratch First. Ask Questions Later.
Chapter 1
“People are often hesitant to punish themselves
to send a message.”
Pascal D’Souza
(2056 - 2111)
***
The Bering Strait
Tin City Harbor
(Northwest Alaska, United States)
“Mom, the light is hurting my eyes.”
“Just cover your face with your hand, sweetheart.”
Lydia squeezed her mother’s hand as they shuffled across the broken, muddied ground, “Keep moving forward. Cover your face.”
“Okay.”
The intense cold seeped through Lydia’s jacket and settled into her bones. The yellow bow in her hair fluttered around in the freezing wind.
A harsh beam from one of dozens of giant lamps blasted across twenty lines which housed hundreds of citizens of all sizes and ages.
Their breath fogged into the air as they waited to board the transport tanker in the dock.
The name of the ship adorned the side the citizens could see: EXODUS-23.
Lydia held her gloved hand over her brow and tried her best to walk forward. The harsh, churned mud, threatened to topple her with every step she took.
“Come on, move it,” an armed IRI guard yelled from the front of the line. “Forwards. Let’s go. Let’s go.”
The fifty people ahead of Lydia and her mother moved forward and prepared to board the bridge that would take them into the back of the vessel.
A fifty-foot tower loomed by the first line. The circular gantry at the summit housed five heavily armed IRI officials. Behind it, the control deck with a speaker system threw yet another light onto the line.
“The International Repatriation Initiative would like to remind all Russian nationals that they must present their Individimedia panels prior to boarding,” the speaker system threatened. “You will board two at a time at the control check-point.”
Lydia held her breath and tightened her shoulders together. She made the mistake of looking over her shoulder and taking in the severity of the situation.
Scores of coaches arrived behind her. Each one offloaded men, women, and children into the brutal, cold night.
The shivers set in. No attempt had been made on behalf of the officials to warm or comfort those who were about to board.
“Mommy, why do we have to l-leave?”
“Because, sweetie,” her mother tried through her chattering teeth, “We’re not welcome here anymore.”
Lydia tugged on her jacket zip and lowered it a few inches. She peeked inside to find two beautiful green eyes stare back at her from within the relative warmth and darkness.
The armed guard at the front of their line caught Lydia behaving strangely - fascinated with the contents of her jacket.
The guard lifted his machine gun to his chest, “Hey, you. What are you doing?” he asked, caring little about the discrepancy between his warm military gear and her simple jacket.
“I’m c-cold.”
“Shut up and move forward, come on,” he beckoned to the girl and her mother.
Lydia and her mother moved forward, behind a young couple who rolled up their sleeves for the guard.
The guard moved a small, black device to the young man’s Individimedia panel.
“Nationality?” the guard asked.
“Russian.”
BEEP.
He ran the scanner over the man’s Individmedia ink. A green light popped out from the central part of
the device. Satisfied with the man’s answer, he turned to the young woman.
“Let me guess. Russian?”
“Actually, no,” the young woman said. “I’m no misfit. I’m a national, but I’m not leaving without my husband.”
Lydia watched the guard lower the device and take the woman’s wrist. She flinched and tried to throw his hand away.
“No. Let go of me.”
“Citizen, please. Move out of the line and return home—”
“—I told you, I am not leaving without my husband.”
The guard armed his machine gun, thoroughly unimpressed with her behavior.
The young man tried for a smile, “We gave it our best shot, honey. It’s over. Go back home.”
“No.”
She moved the barrel of the gun away and leaned into the guard’s face, “You want my husband to go back where he came from? Then you’re taking me with him.”
Three guards came running over from their respective lines.
“We have a problem here?”
“Yes, she’s refusing to return home.”
Lydia felt a shuffling movement come from inside her jacket. She looked down and stroked the front pocket. “No, shh.”
“Meow.”
“No, Squiffy,” Lydia whispered at her chest. “Shh,”
Her mother looked down and bit her lip, “Get her to be quiet.”
“I can’t. She’s freaking out.”
“Jesus—”
“—Come with us,” the second guard said as he grabbed the young woman’s arm and wrenched her away from the front of the line.
The first guard ushered her husband onto the bridge.
“No, no, you can’t do this,” the woman screamed as the second and third guard manhandled her away from the line in full view of everyone. “Let go of me.”
“Honey, it’s okay,” her husband said as he stepped onto the bridge. “I’ll Viddy Media you when I’m back home. We’ll work it out.”
“No, no—”
The woman pushed the second and third guard out of her way and ran to the bridge.
“These bastards can’t keep us apart. I’m coming—”
“Citizen, stop,” the second guard shouted and swung his rifle at her. “Do not approach the bridge.”
The tower’s spotlight swung around and illuminated the woman as she stormed across the ground to her husband.
“This is your final warning,” the second guard yelled. “Stop where you are and return to the line.”
The civilians in the lines all turned to the defiant woman. Her focus trained on the bridge, she was determined to join her husband and break protocol.
“Open fire,” the first guard said.
The second guard aimed down his sight and squeezed the trigger.
“Oh, God. Don’t look,” Lydia’s mother covered her daughter’s eyes.
BLAM.
One shot was all it took.
The woman’s chest flowered out in a haze of red mist, catapulting her body face-first against the damp ground.
Executed in the blink of an eye.
Her husband gripped the bridge rail. He lost the ability to stand and screamed in agony, “No.”
The first guard looked at his colleagues, “Someone clear this collaborator away, please.”
“One shot, one kill,” the second guard said as he grabbed the woman’s ankles and moved her body away from the bridge.
The tower’s spotlight shone onto the lines as a malevolent warning.
“Listen up, misfits. If any of you misfit leeches try to break the rules we will have no option but to use extreme force. Let this brave moron be an example to you all.”
Those waiting to board looked up at the tower in disarray.
“Mommy? What happened?” Lydia said. “Did they shoot that lady?”
Her mother just about managed to speak through the cold and torment, “Y-Yes. They shot her.”
“Meow.”
Lydia and her mother moved to the first guard. He scowled at them and lifted his left arm.
“Individimedia, please.”
Lydia’s mother rolled her sleeve up to her elbow and showed him the three inked lines on the skin of her forearm.
“Thank you.”
The guard moved his scanner over the three black lines. The green light sprang to life, confirming her identity. He shuffled back and pointed to the bridge.
“Married?”
“Yes,” Lydia’s mother said.
“A Russian national, as well. Where is he?”
“We do not know. He went missing months ago.”
“Presumed dead? The only good misfit is a dead misfit,” the guard chuckled and stepped aside, “Okay, you may board.”
Lydia’s mother stepped through, only for the guard to hold the girl back.
“What about my daughter?”
“EXODUS-23 is an adults-only vessel,” the guard said. “Your child will reconvene with you at Naukan Harbor.”
Lydia’s mother didn’t have the energy to fight. She took a deep, frosty breath, and glanced at the guard’s firearm.
In the adjacent line, a couple’s child being ushered forward by an armed guard.
“Mommy?” Lydia asked. I want to come with you.”
The guard turned to the girl, “I’m afraid not, young lady. You’ll join the other juveniles on another boat in about forty-five minutes from now.”
Lydia’s mother crouched and looked into her daughter’s eyes, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You go on with the other children. I’ll see you when we arrive.”
A tear welled in Lydia’s eye and would have frozen if it weren’t for her rapid blinking.
“But I’ve never even been to Russia.”
Her mother felt the urgency of the situation punch her in the gut. Desperation set in, and time was of the essence.
“Sweetheart, please. Do as the man says.”
“I don’t want to go to Russia. I like it here.”
“Sweetheart. We have to—”
“—Come on, ladies,” the guard interrupted. “We have a schedule to keep. Let’s move.”
A pathetic smile crept across Lydia’s mother’s face. She stood to her feet and made her way to the bridge.
“I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Mommy, no.”
Her mother stepped across the bridge and made her way to the thousands of civilians in the back of the boat.
“Okay, that’s the last one,” the guard said into his visor. “Close the bridge.”
“Understood,” came the reply through his headset. “Drawing connection, now.”
WHIIIIIRRRRRR.
The steel railings folded down as they unlatched from the frozen ground and drew in.
“Mommy.”
The guard bopped Lydia on the shoulder and pointed at the far end of the shore, “Hey. Misfit. Make your way to the juvenile congregation area. Now.”
Lydia’s mother reached the back end of the vessel and joined the others. She waved at her daughter and tried not to get upset.
“MEOW.”
The guard looked down at Lydia in shock, “What was that?”
Lydia acted the fool and stood perfectly still.
“What was what?”
“That noise?”
BWAAAAAAARRRRRRR.
The icy ocean water drifted against the dock as EXODUS-23 set sail.
Lydia watched her mother disappear into the swathes of civilians about to make their way across the Bering Strait and back to Russia.
“That stupid noise coming from your jacket,” the guard snapped his finger. “What have you got in there?”
“Um. Nothing, mister. I sneezed. I have a cold.”
The guard wasn’t wholly convinced, “Hmm. Whatever. Just go to the juvenile line, now.”
“Yes, mister.”
Lydia’s eyes were fixed on the back of the boat at it moved away. She could no longer pick out her mother from the civilians. She trusted her
mother, of course. If she said everything was going to be okay, then that’s what would be happening.
The guard folded his arms and tried to snap Lydia out of her misery, “Hey, you. Misfit.”
She turned to him and blinked, “Yes?”
“Go on. Go.”
“Okay.”
Lydia wiped another tear from her eye as her jacket shuffled once again. She froze on the spot, hoping the guard hadn’t seen the unusual movement.
“Uh.”
“There’s something in your jacket,” the guard barked and moved over to her, “What’s in there?”
He grabbed the zipper and yanked it down the length of her body, “You do know it’s illegal to transport any goods or livestock during—”
He stopped speaking when he saw a bright green set of eyeballs staring at him from Lydia’s inner jacket pocket.
“Huh? What’s that?”
Blink. Blink.
The guard scrunched his face, “Is that a—?”
“MEOW.”
Lydia’s white cat launched out of her pocket and scratched the guard across the face.
“Yaaooowww.”
He dropped his machine gun to the floor and grabbed his face.
“Go, Squiffy. Go.”
Everyone turned to the guard as the cat hung by its claws from the man’s face. He kicked his hind legs against the guard’s neck, tearing the skin, ravaging the man as ruthlessly as it could.
“Grrrr.”
An elderly Russian man in the next line screamed, “My God. What the hell is going on here?”
Lydia acted fast. She crouched down and picked up the machine gun, but hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.
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