Star Cat: Pink Symphony
Page 20
"Now, the other leg," Bonnie demonstrated by lifting her left boot next to her right.
Jelly let out cat-like whimper as she shifted her weight forward. Her right foot rocked sideways as she struggle to balance.
It needed to be done. Wool and Bonnie watched with great intensity.
"Miew…" she quipped with fear.
"Try, honey."
Her mouth quivered as she moved her right leg forward. She lost her balance quite out of the blue and fell paws-first to the ground. The bed rocked back and forth on its casters.
Jelly started sobbing on the floor.
Wool raced over to pick Jelly up under her arms, "Okay, that’s more than enough fun for today, I think."
"Oh dear," Bonnie sighed. "Looks like we’re gonna have to practice this a bit more, huh?
Wool laid Jelly out on the bed and fluffed the pillow, "Bonnie, I need to perform an enhanced MRI. Can you give us about half an hour? “
"Sure," Bonnie made for the door and blew Jelly a kiss, "Good luck!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
USARIC - Weapons & Armory
Space Opera Beta - Level Four
"Level Four," the elevator called out as the cage stopped at the outer doors, "Weapons and Armory. Have a nice day."
"Open the damn doors," Jaycee yelled at the ceiling, clutching his severed left hand. He kicked the cage in a fit of fury.
His boot connected with the Perspex panel, effectively scaring the doors open.
Jaycee stormed onto the sprawling metal gantry that led to Weapons & Armory. A ruthless determination to rectify what had happened swept through his body.
The clanging from his stomping boots echoed across the ground as he spoke into his radio mic.
"Tripp, this is Jaycee. Broadcasting on a secure frequency. Do you read me?"
A burst of static came through his ear piece. The device belonged to his helmet which he’d long since been discarded.
"Tripp, do you read—"
"—Jaycee?" Tripp’s voice crept into his ear, "Yes, this is Tripp. I read you."
"Tripp?"
"Yes, go ahead. Are you done with Engine and Payload, yet? I guess you must be if we’re able to communi—"
"—Tripp, listen up," Jaycee jogged along the gantry at speed, "We need to find Baldron and Tor right now. Have you seen them?"
"No, I’ve just got out of Medix. Why, what’s the issue? Where are you?"
"Heading for Weapons and Armory."
"What?" his voice indicated confusion, "Why?"
"I’m gonna tool up and kill them both."
"What did they do?"
Jaycee arrived at the door and slammed the palm of his severed hand against the open panel. The door slid open and allowed him in.
"Jaycee? Talk to me?"
"Yeah, I hear you."
"What happened?"
"They tried to kill me."
"But you have the compliance device. Weren’t they afraid you’d use it?"
"It’s a trap, man. They brought me down to E&P so one of those creature things could attack me. Baldron ran off with my glove. He’s got the Decapidisc detonator."
Jaycee arrived at the first weapons bay and kicked the door open in a furious rage.
"Tor’s on the control deck," Tripp said. "Baldron must be headed there right now."
Jaycee lifted a fresh K-SPARK shotgun from the holster on the wall and strapped it around his shoulders, "I’m tooling up, now, Tripp. Are you carrying?
"I’ve got my standard issue on me."
"It might not be enough," Jaycee grabbed two Rez-9s from the wall and slotted a fresh magazine into each one with extreme deftness, "Don’t go there without me, you’re outnumbered two-to-one."
"Jaycee, listen. I can’t let them loose on the deck. God knows what they’ll get up to with all the core commands and Manuel at their disposal.
"Do not go into control alone," Jaycee grunted into his mouth piece as he pulled open the second bay, "They probably think I’m dead. If so, who do you think is next on their hit list?"
An array of grenades and assorted explosive weapons and attachments glinted in the bay’s strip lights.
"How long are you going to be?" Tripp asked.
Jaycee swiped a handful of dumb bombs and planted his boot on the lip of the shelf, "Dunno, maybe a couple minutes."
"Jaycee, listen. Something else has happened. Something bizarre. To do with Anderson."
The side section of Jaycee’s thigh sprung open, providing a compartment to store four red dumb bombs and four black smart bombs.
"Anderson? What about her?"
He dropped the grenades inside and thumped the compartment shut with the side of his fist.
"I’ll tell you when we meet. You’re not going to believe me. Can you get to control in ninety seconds?" Tripp asked through the static.
"Sure thing," Jaycee reached into the bay and unfastened a yellow claymore from its housing. "Stay out of sight."
"Will do."
Jaycee lifted the claymore up in front of his face and pulled it apart like an accordion. Three additional claymores hung together across a wire, "Make sure it’s just you. No one else."
"Sure, just you and me."
"At the corner by the door," Satisfied, Jaycee collapsed the claymores together and clipped them to his belt. He looked at the first weapons bay and saw a second K-SPARK shining back at him.
He had an idea.
"I’m bringing another shotgun with me, this one’s floor mountable. Doubles up as a turret. Go to the deck, I’m on my way."
Jaycee wrenched the heavy artillery unit from the bay in his right hand.
"See you in ninety," Tripp said.
Jaycee gripped the barrel and cocked it in his strong, right hand, "Stay safe till I get there."
The Control Deck
Space Opera Beta - Level One
Baldron stood at the flight deck, looking at the controls. He’d placed Jaycee’s glove next to the yellow thruster lever. He looked at the view of Pink Symphony through the windscreen and felt the lip of his Decapidisc. His fate, until now, had been in the hands of someone who despised him. Someone who could have taken his life at the push of a button - one which Baldron was now in control of.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "One down, three to go."
"Three?" Tor looked over from the communications panel, "Oh, right. Yeah. Including that stupid cat."
Manuel hung still six feet in the air. His pages paused and flickering in mid-flip.
"How’s Manuel?"
Tor followed a small white line creeping across Manuel’s paused page, "Flushing to disk. Thirty more seconds and we’re in business."
Baldron turned to the glorious, opulent pink sky looming beyond the shield. The three suns closed together, the harshness of their beams subdued by a series of pallid, milky clouds.
"A century and a half ago we put the first dog in space. I still don’t know why we bothered."
Tor ran his fingers along the surface of his Decapidisc, "Because we could, comrade."
"I just hope Dimitri is okay. Those idiot Yanks have a habit of executing first and asking questions later. They have a history of it."
Baldron turned around and looked at Manuel’s holograph. It shimmied around and attempted to speak.
"Remember, Viktor. We may be the bad guys in the eyes of those on Earth. But we had no choice. The others died and we survived. We cracked the code," Baldron pointed at the window, "Now, we have the answer."
"We do. Now we just need to figure out what it means."
Manuel vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye. The book powered up and spread its ends out like a bird. Healthy and energetic.
"Ah, I’m online," Manuel beamed and tilted the top of his pages at Tor, "Good whenever-it-is, Tor. How are you?"
"I’m okay, Manuel."
Manuel slipped a few meters to Tor’s right and nosed in around his neck, "Why are you wearing a compliance unit?"
"We believe Jaycee has short-circuited," Baldron added as he approached Tor and Manuel, "We are unhappy that a series three Androgyne getting with insubordination like this."
"I agree."
Tor raised his eyebrows with surprise, "You do?"
"Absolutely," Manuel flipped to page 453, 770. "See, here? Infinity Clause seven, para one. No Androgyne unit may act against its humans. He is in direct contravention of this clause."
"Good," Tor breathed a sigh of relief along with Baldron, "Can you remove my Decapidisc please?"
"Certainly. Give me a moment," Manuel froze solid in the air.
Baldron and Tor smiled and high-fived each other.
***
Tripp peered round the corner wall and stared at the control deck door. He held his Rez-9 in flat in his palm, clocking the white indicator on the side - a full magazine.
"Please, God. Let us survive this one."
He squeezed the grip in his right hand, keeping the gun pointed at the ground.
A series of heavy footsteps clomped away behind his shoulders. He knew who they belonged to.
"You ready, man?"
Time seemed to grind into slow motion as Tripp laid eyes on Jaycee.
The man bounded forward with great purpose. Armed with two, heavy K-SPARKS, claymores and an exo-suit that could probably withstand an atomic blast.
"Jaycee."
"Catch," He tossed one of the K-SPARKs over to Tripp, who caught it in both hands and slipped the harness over his shoulder.
"Got it."
Jaycee flipped his visor down, ready for war, "Let’s give ‘em hell."
Tripp held him back, "Jaycee, listen. Don’t kill them. At worst, a little light maiming. We need them."
"But we can’t trust those scumbags."
"I know, but we need them."
"Need them? Need them to kill us the second our backs are turned?"
"What happened down at Engine and Payload?"
Jaycee held up his ruined wrist. A bent metal carpal extension protruded through the broken wires and connectors.
"What the—"
“Does this answer your question?”
“Yes.”
"—They need killing. So, let’s do it," Jaycee put a foot forward, only to be held back by Tripp.
"Jaycee?"
"Yeah."
"You’re an Androgyne?"
Jaycee spun his head to the right, no longer able to face reality. "I… I… just…"
"I had no idea."
Jaycee sniffed and held his elbow to his face, "I know you didn’t. How could you? Bonnie didn’t even know when she found out."
Tripp allowed Jaycee a few seconds to himself.
"If it’s any consolation, you’re as good as human to me. You know that, right?"
A pink tear trickled down Jaycee’s cheek, "I never thought it could happen to me, man."
"Why anyone, buddy?
"My entire life has been a lie," Jaycee wept quietly, "My wife must know. My kids—"
"—Jaycee, I know it’s hard to take, but—"
"—Every single time I go to sleep, I forget. I wake up the next day thinking I’m normal," Jaycee’s lips quivered. "I remember everything. Everything, except for the fact I’m not normal."
Tripp didn’t have the words nor the credentials to try and talk Jaycee down from his mire, “Hey."
"Yeah," he wiped the liquid from his face and half-laughed in pain, "Genuine tears, look. They’ve even got the salt levels right."
"I’m not going to try and tell you everything is okay. I can’t imagine what you’re going through."
"You have no idea what I’m going through. I just want to die. I never want to feel like this again."
"You’re a man, aren’t you?"
"Yeah," Jaycee sniffed.
"You have memories? A loving family, right?"
"Yes… I do."
"Then as far as everyone’s concerned, you’re a human being. What’s the difference?" Tripp placed his finger under the barrel of Jaycee’s gun and lifted up to the control deck door, "All that anger deep in your gut? Put it to good use. Focus it at those bastards in there."
Jaycee sniggered through his tears. The feeling of heartache and self-pity manifested itself into a whirlwind of pure rage.
Tripp could see the realization take place in Jaycee’s eyes, "That’s right, man. You fire up and take it out on the bad guys."
"I will."
Tripp gave him a harsh but friendly thump on the shoulder, "That’s the spirit."
"Thanks, man."
"Oww," Tripp waved his hand in pain, quietly, "Damn, your suit is vicious."
"Yeah, don’t hit me again," Jaycee cleared his throat and acted manly once again, "Don’t tell anyone I cried, okay?"
“Of course not.”
“Because if you do I’ll remove your skull, sand it down and give it to your wife as a souvenir cereal bowl.”
“That won’t work. She hates cereal.”
Tripp and Jaycee shared a moment chuckling. Certain death was on the horizon. Both men knew it, and elected to laugh right in its face.
"Okay, listen carefully. We’re not going in all guns blazing."
"No?"
"Nope," Tripp shook his head and scanned the door to the control deck, "I’m going in first…"
***
"Override compliance unit," Manuel’s voice came out of Tor’s mouth, "Decapidisc. Unit Two."
The lights on the disc shut off one by one. Tor stood mannequin-still as Manuel controlled his body.
"Oh, this is curious. This is what it feels like to be human?" Tor felt the neck hole unbolt. Both halves of the disc swung out, resembling a huge three shape hanging from around the back of his neck.
A sharp, purple light bolted out from Tor’s eyes, puking Manuel’s holographic book image into the air.
"Done! Whoa, what a rush," Manuel fluttered around in an attempt to acclimatize himself to his surroundings.
Tor’s blinked back to life and shook the dizziness away, "Wow, is it over?"
"Yes," Manuel shifted around in the air, applauding the experience with two of his pages.
"Thank, God," He caught his inactive Decapidisc in his hands and placed it on the communications panel, "Thanks, Manuel."
"You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me inside you, Viktor."
"What?"
"Your name. Viktor Rabinovich. I took the liberty to run a backup on your entire life in case you ever developed Alzheimer's."
"I didn’t give you permission to do that!" Tor fumed. "Erase it. Right now, please."
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
"—Dah, dah, I don’t wanna hear it. Erase all that data you stole from my head, please. At once."
"Certainly," Manuel paused for nanosecond. "Erase complete."
"Thank you. You’re out of your mind."
"I know, Tor. I was in yours."
"That’s not what I meant—forget it."
Baldron got thoroughly fed up with the friendly exchange. He pointed at the button on Jaycee’s glove and then to his own Decapidisc, "Hey, what about me? Get inside me and take this thing off."
Tor waved his hand across his face. An eight-foot holographic vector image of Opera Beta pinged to life in the middle of the room.
"Manuel?"
"Yes, Viktor?
"Stop calling me that. Call me Tor."
"Certainly, Tor."
"What’s the situation with Pure Genius?"
"The supercomputer is fully operational, now. Everything is well."
"Good," Tor ignored Baldron and pointed to the vector image, "Sit-rep report on all souls aboard Opera Beta, please. Engage coordinates, and show them in purple."
"Certainly."
"Comrade, please," Baldron pleaded, "Have Manuel remove this thing from my neck."
"Look, comrade. We need to kno
w where the others are, and I want to make sure Jaycee is dead—"
The door to the control deck slid open. Tor and Baldron averted their attention to the man entering the room.
A stern-looking Tripp Healy, complete with K-SPARK heavy artillery, "Hey, guys."
"Hello, Tripp," Tor clutched at his neck and stood in front of the opened Decapidisc nestled on the comms panel.
"Did you get those nuke thrusters replaced okay?"
"Yes, we did. Everything is… well."
"You’re starting to sound just like him."
"Who?"
"Manuel," Tripp smiled and nodded at the vector image of Opera Beta, "What are you doing with that, Tor?"
"Oh, I…" he stumbled over his need to lie, "Just working out if Pure Genius is up and running."
Tripp clocked Baldron’s nerves getting the better of him. He threw Tor a look of suspicion but kept his manner friendly and professional, "I see you managed to get your Decapidisc off?"
"It was hurting my neck," Tor held his breath and watched Tripp walk towards the flight deck. A swift change of conversation was required. "Um, where have you been?"
"Where have I been?" Tripp gripped the back of the flight chair and chuckled with faux confusion, "I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to report my whereabouts to you at all times."
Tor and Baldron just knew something was wrong. Tripp knew it, too, and decided to have fun with them. He clocked Jaycee’s glove in the corner of his eye but made out he hadn’t noticed.
"Where’s the big man? Was he helpful?"
Baldron gulped hard, trying not to sweat. His pores had other ideas, though.
"Y-Yes," he stammered and almost croaked, "H-He was—"
"—Why are you sweating, Landaker?" Tripp asked.
"This is unusual," Manuel butted in, "I’m detecting a lot more souls than anticipated."
Tor ignored Manuel and focused his attention on pleasing Tripp, "I’m… not. It’s just hot in here—"
Manuel activated himself and shifted around the room, "Tor, the sit-rep is available. But I’m afraid to report there are many more—"
"—No, Manuel, not now—"
"—Sit-rep? Souls?” Tripp stepped toward the vector image, away from the flight deck, "What sit-rep?"