Star Cat: Exodus: A Science Fiction & Fantasy Adventure (The Star Cat Series - Book 5) Read online

  Contents

  Chrome Valley Books

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Acknowledgments

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “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.

  WHOOOOSH.

  The spotlight from the tower swung to the left and illuminated the guard as he struggled to tear the cat away from his face.

  A voice flew through the tower’s speakers, “Line eighteen? What’s going on down there?”

  “Gaaaah.”

  The guard grabbed Squiffy by his body and tore him away from his bloodied face.

  SPLOT.

  “Go, Squiffy. Go,” she called out as her pet ran to the shoreline.

  “Little girl?”

  Lydia swung the gun at the guard and threatened to shoot him, “What?”

  The guard opened his bloodied eyes and threw his hands into the air, “Put the gun down.”

  “No.”

  She hooked her index finger around the trigger and threatened to blow the guard’s head off.

  Everyone raised their eyebrows in utter astonishment.

  “I already lost my daddy. I won’t let you take my mommy away from me.”

  The guard affected a sympathetic face and tried to calm her down.

  “Kid, listen—”

  “—No. You listen,” she said. “I want my mommy back. I don’t want to go to Russia.”

  The guards on the tower aimed their rifles at Lydia. Dozens of tiny, red laser dots appeared around her arms and chest.

  “Misfit. Lower the firearm and surrender.”

  “No.”

  Squiffy bolted up
to the shore where the bridge had once allowed the civilians to board the ship. He reached the sand and dug his front paws into the sand.

  “Meow.”

  The moon hung in sky like a giant light bulb.

  “Squiffy!” Lydia called. “What are you doing?”

  “Open fire!” the God-like voice from the tower ordered.

  THRAAA-AA-TAT-A-TAAAAAT.

  Pangs of sand lifted into the air all around Squiffy. The bullets chewed through the ground, narrowly avoiding the end of his tail.

  He looked at the moon and growled before darting off into the water.

  SPLOSH-SPLASH.

  “Meow,” Squiffy yelped as he jumped into the water and swam after the ship.

  SPLISH-SPRISH.

  The bullets careened into the water all around him as he swam away.

  The first guard turned to Lydia to reveal that his face had been badly scratched.

  “Girl, they’re going to kill you. Put the gun down.”

  WVHOOOOOM.

  The tower’s spotlight strengthened on Lydia’s face, illuminating her breath. She didn’t know what to do next.

  The first guard’s colleagues arrived and did their best to talk the girl down.

  “What’s your name?” the second guard asked, keeping his grip on his rifle.

  A red laser sight rolled across her left eyeball, temporarily blinding her. She kept the first guard’s gun aimed at him.

  “Tell them to bring the boat back.”

  “That’s not going to happen, little girl.”

  “Tell them to stop shooting at my cat.”

  The second guard looked up at the tower and signaled a cut-off sign across his neck with his fingers.

  The red dots blinked off, one-by-one, from Lydia’s body.

  “What’s your name?” the second guard asked, glancing at a sea of frightened and confused civilians.

  “Lydia.”

  “Do you have a last name, Lydia?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “Voycheck.”

  “How old are you, Lydia Voycheck?”

  “I’m ten,” she said, clearly struggling with the weight of the gun.

  The second guard chuckled at her with disdain, “Heavy gun you got there, isn’t it?”

  “No. I can manage.”

  “Russian?”

  “No. I was born here. I am American, just like my mommy.”