Star Cat: The First Trilogy (Infinity Claws, Pink Symphony, War Mage)

by Andrew Mackay

  "Port zed, four, zero, niner. Confirmed."

  "Understood, standby," Tor’s voice sped up and flooded Baldron’s headset, "Get out of there, good buddy."

  “Why?”

  “Trust me, there is literally no time to explain. We’re wasting time talking about not talking about it. Go, go—”

  "—Okay, I’m going."

  "Make sure that useless pile of mechanical puke doesn’t see you."

  "I’ll do my best."

  "You’ll have to do a lot better than your best, my friend," Tor switched comms to Jaycee, "Okay, Jaycee. On my command you will make contact with the lock. On a countdown of three. Do you understand?"

  "I understand."

  Baldron pushed himself out of the port and into the payload chamber. He grabbed the used canister and released it in the air a few inches from the door.

  Tor continued with his instruction, "Reconciling nuclear engagement. Make contact please."

  Baldron carefully planted the sole of both boots on the adjacent panel and pushed himself into the distance.

  Jaycee looked up at Baldron’s port but failed to see him move away. As far as he could see, the door was open and Baldron was still inside. His canister revolved around in the air just by the door.

  "Idiot."

  "Sorry, repeat? Jaycee?"

  "I wasn’t talking to you," he turned back to the bolt mechanism on the port, "Let’s get on with this. Open the damn thing, will you?"

  "Suits me. Contact established?"

  The bolt on the lock shunted out, offering itself to Baldron. He grasped it in his hand and cleared his throat, "Contact established."

  Streaks of sweat smeared up the inside of Baldron’s visor as he kicked himself away from the next column. The elevator doors loomed fifty feet in the distance. A minute or two from escape.

  Jaycee rolled his shoulders and prepared to open his port loader.

  "From three," Tor advised. "Three, two, one… and engage."

  SHUNT-SWISH.

  The port door slid down into the groove. Jaycee released the bolt and placed the good canister on inside it. "I’m in."

  "Good. Just holler if you need me."

  "I doubt I’ll be doing that," Jaycee huffed and pressed his feet to the ground. He held his right glove to his face and inspected the little finger on his glove. The ends slid apart and released a screw tip, "Here we go."

  He moved his glove away from his face and eyeballed the thoroughly worn canister, "Right. Let’s get you fixed."

  A giant fleshy limb with a razor sharp talon shot out from behind it and swiped at Jaycee.

  "Jeeeeeesus Christ," he yelped and grabbed the good canister by his knees.

  A second, third and fourth limb hugged around the canister, angry at having been disturbed.

  The vicious beast snapped the spent canister in two. A blast of gas slammed against Jaycee, pushing him out of the port loader.

  The good canister tumbled around at speed over his shoulder and clanged against a column. Jaycee unhooked his Rez-9 and aimed it at the creature, "Tor!"

  The creature jammed forward along the port tight walls. It wanted Jaycee’s blood.

  "Tor, do you read me?"

  "Yes, good buddy. I read you. How are you getting on down there?"

  "You son of a bi—" Jaycee drew his weapon.

  "—What’s wrong?"

  SNARL-SNASH! The creature’s six limbs rapid-gripped the edges of the port, one by one, and prepared to launch forward.

  "You know damn well what’s wrong—"

  "—No need for cursing, that’s just rude," Tor fake-chuckled over the comms, "Now, at this point you’ve probably got your gun aiming right at it, don’t you?"

  "You’re Goddamn right I do."

  "Yeah, just one thing."

  "What?" Jaycee trained his gun at the knuckle-headed midsection of the beast. It opened its mouth-like cave and screeched up a storm.

  "Bullets and zero gravity, my friend? You may as well just take a bath and drop a toaster in with you—"

  "—You’re a dead man, I swear," Jaycee released his finger from the trigger. He threw the gun at the screaming beast’s mouth. It caught it with deft expertize and munched away on it, breaking it in two. "You better pray it kills me."

  "I’ve already done that. Send my regards to Daryl and Haloo when you get to Hell," Tor smirked and cut the call.

  Baldron reached the elevator doors. He slammed the panel in a desperate bid to open them, “C’mon, c’mon.”

  "Landaker," Jaycee’s voice hurtled toward him as he frantically jabbed at the button on the wall.

  "Come on, please. Please."

  "You and your soviet boyfriend are dead men," Jaycee kicked himself away from one of the many columns, headed straight for the door.

  "Close, damn it. Close," Baldron rapid-hit the button, praying for a swift escape.

  Jaycee flew through the air and threw his hands forward. Baldron’s throat needed removing.

  The creature, however, was hot on Jaycee’s tail, too.

  "Baldron, don’t close that door," Jaycee shouted as he kicked himself forward, "Keep it open."

  "Comrade," Tor’s voice came through, "Close the door."

  "I am, I am," Baldron hit the panel over and over again, "It won’t close."

  "Stupid American-made crap," Tor failed to realize his voice came through Jaycee’s helmet, "Much like that big hunk of whale blubber."

  "What did you call me?" Jaycee screamed.

  "Oh, you can hear me?"

  "Yeah, I can hear you," Jaycee quipped, angrily, as he zipped towards Baldron in the elevator cage fifty-odd feet away, "Hey, dead man."

  "Who, me?” Baldron and Tor asked in unison.

  "Both of you."

  The creature gained on Jaycee. It had learned to propel itself watching the man’s actions. Worse still, it had six times as many limbs as its prey to do it with.

  Baldron elbowed the button on the elevator panel. The doors slid together very, very slowly, "It’s closing," He clapped eyes on the creature in the distance and backed up against the elevator’s back wall, "Oh, shiiii—"

  "—It’s trying to kill me,’ Jaycee threw his hands forward and opened his fingers in an attempt to grab the doors before they sliced shut, “Stay right where you are, you—"

  Too late - the doors were half a second away from slamming shut.

  Baldron’s face disappeared behind the closing doors.

  "I’m gonna tear the skull out of your head," Jaycee clenched his right hand made for Baldron’s throat.

  "I’m s-sorry, Jaycee—"

  SCHLAA-AAM!

  The elevator doors clamped shut on Jaycee’s wrist, "Gaahh," The severed appendage clanged against the wall and crashed knuckles-first to the ground.

  Baldron tumbled to his knees as the cage hurtled up through the elevator tube. Jaycee’s grunts and screams dissipated behind the outer door as he fought with the creature.

  "Hey, man. You there?" Tor asked.

  "Yes, I’m here," Baldron slumped to his behind on the floor and breathed a sigh of relief, "And Jaycee… isn’t."

  "Good job, comrade."

  "We’re so dead if that thing doesn’t finish him off—"

  The severed hand’s fingers and thumb fanned out and clench into a fist, punching itself to its fingertips. It crawled toward Baldron like a mad, mechanical spider with an opposable thumb.

  Thoroughly intimidated, Baldron kicked himself back against the far wall, "His hand. It’s his damn hand, man!"

  "What hand?” Tor asked. “What’s going on—"

  "—The elevator doors, they… they… cut it off. Oh, G-God, it’s trying to kill me—"

  The hand crept forward, threatening Baldron. sparks of electricity blasted along its trail of wires and metal dragging behind the destroyed wrist.

  "Please, no!"

  The hand quickly ran out of juice - containing just enough energy left to hold its middle finger up at Baldron as a p
arting salute.

  "Huh?"

  It splayed its fingers out and punched the floor with its palm, giving up the ghost. The white button on the wrist flap flashed, begging to be pressed.

  "Baldron? Give me a sit-rep, please."

  "It’s okay. I think it’s dead," Baldron quickly arrived at an epiphany, "Wait, wait."

  "What?"

  "It’s… not real," he grabbing the discarded appendage by the fingers and looked at the trailing wires and connectors.

  "Not real?"

  "No."

  Baldron slipped the glove from the synthetic hand, "Well, not human. Titanium. Special connectors, with heat-proof underpinnings."

  "Classic Manning/Synapse hardware, right?"

  "Right," Baldron brushed the tip of his thumb across the synthetic skin on Jaycee’s hand, "What do I do with it?"

  "What do you do with what?"

  Baldron pressed his shoulders against the elevator wall as it rocketed toward level one, "The hand, Tor. What do I do with Jaycee’s hand?"

  "What? The hand? Who gives a rat’s ass? Just leave it there. It’s the glove we want. For God’s sake, do not press any buttons on it."

  The Decapidisc slunk around Baldron’s shoulders, enabling a terrifying prospect, "Oh, God…. Oh, God."

  "What is it, now?" Tor asked, near ready to explode.

  "The button’s flashing on the glove. The disc is gonna take my head off—"

  "—It’s okay, it’s just in advisory mode,’ Tor mocked his friend for fun, "I need you to bring that ghastly, five-fingered contraption back to control right now. The elevator is making its way to Level One. Control Deck."

  Baldron tossed the hand at the wall and held the glove to his chest, "Are you sure we’re okay?"

  "As long as you keep away from that activation button, yes," Tor said. "Now, calm yourself down and meet me at control. We’ll take care of the others."

  "Okay."

  "And that stupid cat, as well."

  The elevator bolted skyward in a haze of spinning bulbs and lights.

  Medix

  Wool sat against the exterior Medix wall. She’d resigned herself to the only course of action available.

  Jelly’s muffled howls of pain muffled from within the room.

  "They’re not coming," Wool lifted her Rez-9 firearm in her right hand and looked at the safety catch. She pressed it down with her thumb, arming the weapon. Finally, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  "Forgive me for what I’m about to do," she pushed her heels into the ground and slid her back up the wall.

  "Wool," Tripp’s voice rumbled across the walkway, flying into her ears. She jumped in fright and opened her eyes, instinctively aiming her gun at the emptiness dead ahead of her.

  "Tripp?" Wool hollered, prepared to fire, "Is that you?"

  "Yes, it’s me and Bonnie.”

  Tripp crept around the corner with terrific trepidation, "Are you okay?"

  "No. I’m not okay," Wool thumped the door to Medix. The rectangular slab slid away from its casters.

  "Why have you got your firearm out?" Bonnie joined Tripp and readied herself to beat the hell out of whatever had upset her colleague, "What’s going on?"

  Wool peered through the transparent door’s window. An effort that proved to be futile; the surface had fogged up a storm, leaving only a blurry contour of slowing down on the bed.

  "She’s in there."

  Tripp made for the door, "Right, let’s rescue her—"

  "—No, no. I, uh…" Wool stood in his path and clutched at her Rez-9, "Something’s happening to her. Whatever that pink stuff is… it’s doing to her what it did to Haloo."

  Bonnie frowned and quickly grew angry with their predicament, "For God’s sake," she socked the wall with her fist and held her breath.

  "It’s over, Tripp," Wool sniffed. "She’s quarantined in there. Riding it out."

  An intense, guttural howl crashed from the other side of the door. Tripp looked down, barely able to soak in Wool’s distress. He reached into his belt and grabbed his Rez-9.

  "You want me to do it?"

  It was the least he could offer to do given the circumstances. Wool and Jelly had formed a bond that was better left on the happiest note available.

  "No, no," she wiped a pink tear from her eye, "Let me do it. Please."

  Bonnie tried to offer some sympathy. "Wool, look. It’s the best thing—"

  "—What the hell do you know about feelings, Bonnie? You’re just a lump of pretty metal, made by men for men."

  "How dare you," Bonnie protested. Her absence of mind neglected the fact that her follow-on statement would correct the wrong half of Wool’s accusation, "I am not made of metal,"

  "Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore," Wool turned to the door, ready to execute the monstrosity in the throes of its last breaths, "We’re all somebody’s bitch at the end of the day, aren’t we?"

  A wave of sobs crept through the crack in the door as Wool pushed it open, "Wait here. It’ll only take a second."

  Tripp and Bonnie lowered their heads and nodded.

  Wool allowed the door to slide shut behind her. She aimed her Rez-9 at the source of the whimpering with her eyes closed. The sniveling and gasps of anguish were impossible to withstand. All she had to do was pull the trigger, hope to hit a vital organ, and leave without seeing what she’d done. A blissfully ignorant act of mercy, to be sure, but a necessary one if Wool was retain any semblance of mental well-being post-execution.

  "I’m sorry, pet."

  "Wuh…" groaned a voice more human than she’d expected, "Wuuh…"

  In a rare moment of assurance, Wool lifted her eyelids slightly, keeping her gun facing the bed.

  "Huh?"

  "Wuh-wuh… Wooo… Luhh…"

  Wool squeezed her eyes shut for two seconds and then opened them again. She froze on the spot as if having seen God in the flesh.

  "Wool," came the voice once again, but lower in pitch.

  The surface of Wool’s eyeball reflected an orange-white thing. It kicked its legs forward.

  Blink, blink.

  Wool’s eyelids wiped the detritus from the surface of her eyeballs. This time, the fleshy, fish-eyed image reflecting back rolled over to its side and stopped crying.

  "Wool," the image said, "It… is… you."

  The gun slipped form Wool’s frozen hand and bounced against the white floor tiles beside her left boot.

  "I’m… c-cold…" the thing said in a reassuring, young voice, "P-Please?"

  Wool finally managed to close her jaw. The reality of the event burrowed through her mind. She wasn’t sleeping and certainly not dreaming.

  "J-Jelly… you… I…" Wool stammered, "M-My God…"

  Out in the walkway, Tripp experienced restlessness on a scale he’d seldom encountered. He’d expected to hear a gunshot by now. The desire to run in and assist his colleague was proving hard to shake off.

  Impatient, Bonnie paced around and clutched her belt, "What’s taking so long in there?"

  "I don’t know. I really don’t like it."

  "Maybe a few seconds alone with her?" Bonnie flicked her head up towards the ceiling and licked her lips. "Can’t say I blame her."

  "Seconds? She’s been in there five minutes, at least. I’ll give her thirty more seconds," Tripp held his forearm in front of his chest. He drew a pattern on the skin with his thumb tip. 00:30. The numbers counted down the moment his pressed his fingertip against it. "More than enough time."

  He needn’t have bothered setting the timer. The door slid open and presented a thoroughly relieved - and awe-struck - Wool.

  "Done?" Tripp asked.

  "Guys," Wool took a deep breath, near ready to cry with excitement, "Come in. Something… something—"

  "—Fantastic?" Bonnie chimed in with a healthy amount of flippancy.

  "Yes, yes," Wool beamed with teary delight and clapped her hands together, "My God, something fantastic has happened."

&nbs
p; Chapter 15

  Level One

  Space Opera Beta

  The elevator doors slid open. Baldron clutched Jaycee’s glove in his right hand, careful not to hit the white button. He stepped into the fluorescent-lit corridor and made for the Control Deck.

  "Tor, come in," he tried to unfasten his helmet, "Ugh, this bloody thing."

  "Yeah, good buddy. I read you. Are you on your way?"

  "Yeah, about sixty seconds ETA."

  "Good, I’m working on Manuel, now. You still got that fat idiot’s glove?"

  "Yeah, left his hand in the elevator," Baldron flipped the visor screen up and took a deep breath as he jogged along the corridor.

  "Whatever you do, don’t hit that button. It’s primed to go."

  "I don’t intend to." Baldron slipped off his helmet and tossed it against the wall. He thumped the flat, cold surface on his Decapidisc, "I just want this damn thing off my neck."

  "You and me both. Just get here, now."

  ***

  "Come get me," Jaycee waved his sparking, wrecked wrist at the creature. His legs levitated above his waist as he tried to wrench the outer elevator tube doors apart.

  The monstrosity screeched up a storm and swiped its two front limbs at him.

  "Nggg… c’mon," Jaycee failed to separate the doors. He pressed the fingers on his good hand through the slit but had no opposing force to wrench it apart, "God damn it."

  THRA-AA-APP-PP!

  Six of the creature’s elongated limbs wrapped around the column. It prepared to bolt like a jellyfish toward the elevator door and attack Jaycee.

  "C’mon, c’mon, budge. You stubborn slab of junk," Jaycee turned his body and thumped his boots against the door.

  The creature launched forward and squealed as it darted through the air. Jaycee looked over his shoulder and pressed his knees to his chest.

  "Come on!"

  The creature fanned out all twelve limbs and opened its midsection, like some perverse spider-cobra-flower.

  Jaycee’s eyes widened. The blasted thing was at least ten feet wide in diameter and about to smother him. "Wow."

  SCREEEECH!

  The talons at the end of each limb flicked out. The creature spun around and retracted all twelve of its limbs, creating a bizarrely beautiful spectacle.