Star Cat: War Mage Read online

“—Shut the hell up and do it,” Tripp felt behind his ear and exited the room in a huff.

  Jaycee looked at the floor in bewilderment, “Pfft, dude. Have a cow, much?”

  THWACK!

  Bonnie jumped in the air and scissor-kicked the punch bag against the ceiling.

  “Wow,” Jelly marveled at her friend’s strength. The bag swung back into Bonnie’s arms.

  “Okay, Anderson. You ready to tear it up?”

  “Meow,” she flapped her tail and made her way onto the mat, “Me wanna kill it—”

  In Pure Genius, Tor circled around Jelly, who sat crossed-legged in the middle of the cube. He slid his fingertips over the surface of his Decapidisc.

  “What’s that around your neck?” she asked.

  “Never mind that. Jaycee put it on me while I train you. I’m the communications officer and you have to do what I say—”

  “—Ohh, I know what it is. It cuts your head off.”

  “Look, I’m in charge, here,” Tor fumed. “Now, try that again. It’s not me wanna kill it, as you said. Incorrectly. It’s I want to kill it. Use the correct first person singular pronoun, please.”

  “I … want to kill?”

  “Very good,” Tor clapped his hands together. Twenty panels on the adjacent wall lit up. All but one displayed a variety of adjectives.

  Big - Small - Drunk - Sad - Fast - Mage - Elated - Drown

  Jelly licked her lips and pressed her claws against the tile underneath her legs. She began to read them aloud, “Big… Small—”

  “—No, no. I don’t want you to read them. I want you to tell me which one is the noun.”

  “Noun,” Jelly repeated. “Like a thing word?”

  “That’s right, like a thing word. Take a look.”

  She scanned each of the words and landed on the sixth one. She turned to him and tried her luck, “Mage?”

  “Well done, yes.”

  “That’s me,” Jelly clapped her hand-paws together. The ends of her infinity claws clinked together, reminding Tor of just how screwed he was if he ever got into a fight with her. He cleared his throat and snapped his fingers at the tile.

  The word Mage expanded, followed by a blank box.

  “Can you give me the definitive definition of the word mage, please?”

  “It is a girl God. Girl good with magic.”

  “I guess that’s accurate enough. Good work.”

  “Ha ha,” Jelly swished her tail in triumph.

  “Right, let’s try something a little more advanced…”

  4’2”

  The Fit Room

  Four hours later

  “This is quite advanced,” Bonnie walked around the punch bag and traced her gloved fingers around the canvas, “Jitsaku is all about harnessing your oppressor’s anger and using it against them. You think you can do that?”

  “I don’t care about my oppressor,” Jelly swiped at the bag and flung her infinity claws out, “I care about me. What does oppressor mean?”

  “It means the bad guy, sweetie.”

  “Not liking bad guys.”

  “You don’t like the bad guys, you mean,” Bonnie said. “Didn’t Tor teach you anything?”

  “Tor is a bad guy. He tried to kill us. Not wanting.”

  JAB-JAB-SWUNCH!

  Jelly smashed the bag with all her might. It flew past Bonnie’s face, lifting the ends of her hair over her neck, “Whoa!”

  “Sonofabitch,” Jelly muttered and thwacked the bag once again, this time with her right foot, “Come and get it.”

  Bonnie gasped. “Jelly! Where did you hear that word?”

  “It?”

  “No! The S-word.”

  “Sonofabitch?” Jelly said with a cute nonchalance.

  “Don’t repeat it, Jelly!”

  “You said it earlier when we started.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” Bonnie failed to recollect the incident. She shrugged and allowed her authority to remain intact, “Well, whatever. Just do as I do, not as I say.”

  “Huh?”

  “No, wait—” Bonnie corrected herself and thought over the phrase, “Do as I say, and as I do.”

  “Me confused.”

  Bonnie exhaled and closed her eyes, “Just don’t say that word again, okay? No swears, please.”

  “Jaycee and Tripp say rude words. One time, I heard Jaycee call someone a mother—”

  “—Right,” Tor held his Decapidisc in anger, “Let’s get this straight once and for all. Where and when to use cuss words.”

  A variety of colorful curse words appeared on the panels inside Pure Genius.

  “Okay,” Jelly leaned back on her elbows and started up at the bank of tiles. She clapped eyes on an eight-letter word she’d not seen before, “Tor?”

  “Yes, Jelly?”

  “What does dick… head mean?”

  The tile containing the offending word flashed as soon as the utterance left her mouth.

  “Oh, uh,” he struggled with the literal explanation, “It’s, uh, a stupid person? A bad word.”

  “Like a bad guy?” Jelly added with stern curiosity. Tor breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t have to explain why boys and girls were different.

  “Yes, yes, exactly. Like a bad guy.”

  A cheeky grin crept along her face. She eyed him with salacious menace and pointed her infinity claw at his face, “Dickhead.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a dickhead,” she said. “A bad guy. And I know what a dick is.”

  “That’s not funny,” Tor pointed to a four letter word beginning with "F’ on the next tile, “Okay, smart-ass. If you’re so clever, do you know what that word means?”

  She turned to it and took a deep breath, “I know how to say it but Bonnie and mommy said I shouldn’t.”

  “Good, I’m glad mommy said that.”

  “Also, she said that’s what you can do to yourself if you go anywhere near her again.”

  Tor punched the wall in anger, “God damn it.”

  “Umm, you swore, Tor,” she laughed at his anguish, “I’m going to tell.”

  “Please don’t—”

  4’7”

  Medix

  Two hours later

  “—Please don’t knock the cups off, honey,” Wool watched Jelly press her chin against the surface of the table, “I mean it. Try to resist.”

  Jelly looked at the five empty cups perched in a row. Her paws twitched, wanting to strike each one.

  Wool tested the cat’s obedience, “Do not touch those cups. Remember what you did during the Star Cat Trials—”

  “Miew,” the very thought of the needlessly violent competition made her thrash the first cup off the edge and onto the floor.

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to hold that in,” Wool said. “But you need to learn to obey orders, honey.”

  “I wanna knock ‘em all off.”

  “Think of them as fingers,” Wool said. “If that was me hanging off the side of the building, I like to think you’d help me back up.”

  “Mmm, no. My instinct wants me to knock them off. Make them fall.”

  “Ignore your instincts, honey. Just look at them. Exercise some mercy. It’s a valuable tool to master.”

  “Miew,” Jelly’s snorts of derision fogged up the side of the plastic cups, “No, no… don’t…” she whispered to herself, “Resist…”

  “Don’t do it, Jelly.”

  “Uhhh,” she growled and clenched her fists, “No, it’s no use.”

  Jelly tore into the four cups.

  SCHWIP-SCHWIP-SCHWAAP. Clunk.

  The final cup spun around on the floor, providing the perfect denouement to her failure of the task.

  “Sorry.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I wanted to. Rule number one. I get to do what I want, when I want.”

  “I see Tor’s classes are working,” Wool spat with sarcasm. She pi
cked the cups from the floor and returned them to the edge of the desk, one by one.

  “Mommy. Don’t make me do it again.”

  “You’re going to keep doing it until you learn to resist.”

  “But I want to,” Jelly huffed and stood up straight. She seemed taller than just a few hours ago. No longer a six-year-old, she resembled a half-cat adolescent of around thirteen years of age.

  Wool covered her mouth with shock, “Jelly?”

  “Ugh, what is it now?”

  “You’ve… grown.”

  “Yeah, so?” she complained like a typical teenager would.

  Wool pointed at Jelly’s buds pushing through the chest area of her shirt, “And not just in height, either.”

  “Mommy,” Jelly covered her chest with her furry arm, “Are you looking at me?”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Over to the wall, please. I want to record your height again.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Jelly stormed over to the wall, “I’m only going because you give me food. Remember that, bitch.”

  “Jelly,” Wool barked in shock, following her to the wall, “Don’t ever say that—”

  “—Don’t ever say I’m a damn Androgyne,” Tripp rubbed his face, looking at himself in the mirror, “Every time I wake up, I feel great. And then something reminds me.”

  The Rest and Recuperation room provided quiet solace during the crew’s preparation for impending doom.

  “I swear to God, I cannot go on like this.”

  The cavity in his head had been patched up using Baldron’s synthetic skin. He may have looked a million dollars, but deep down inside he felt a million Lira.

  He decided one, simple action could be undertaken to make him happy, “Don’t let me regret this. I never want to feel this way again.”

  He removed his thumb cuticle and squeezed it in his right hand. The sharp, curved nail heated up and sparked.

  “Let’s test those pain receptors,” Tripp angled his head in the mirror and placed the sharp end of his white-hot thumbnail at the logo on his skin.

  The heat scorched through the Manning/Synapse logo, burning through to his connecting neck rod.

  “Ngggggg…. G-God…”

  The flap of synthetic skin containing the logo peeled away from his neck. He held out his arm and turned the logo to the mirror.

  “How do we like me, now?” Tripp winced in the mirror, “Manning/Synapse… no more.”

  He dropped the flap of skin down the drain and hit the rinse panel.

  SWISSSHHHH!

  It gurgled down the drain, never to be seen again.

  “Ignorance is bliss—”

  5’1”

  USARIC - Weapons & Armory

  Two hours later

  “—but weapons are more blissful,” Jaycee unclipped a semi-automatic rifle from the wall and presented it to Jelly, “I’m not sure you’ve got the muscle strength to be able to hold this.”

  She held out her paws, “Let me try. I like guns.”

  “Be careful. It’s loaded,” Jaycee pushed it into her chest. She caught it and felt the weight.

  “I will.”

  “The D-REZ semi-auto. Three round burst. You can flip the lever on the side down for single shot, or up for continuous.”

  “Okay,” she fumbled with the gun in an attempt to get used to its weight.

  “It’s light, easy to use and gets the job done. That’s why I like it.”

  Her infinity claws didn’t get in the way as she gripped the gun in both hands. Jaycee lifted the nozzle away from his chest, “Don’t ever point your gun at the people you’re working with.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jaycee thumped the cabinet. A slit formed on the wall, producing a plastic handle, “Stand back, girl.”

  He yanked a blast sheet out. The USARIC logo stretched out across its surface. He pointed at its circular target and bullseye, “Now, see that little notch at the end of the gun?”

  She closed one eye and looked down the sight, “Yeah?”

  “Match it up to the red dot in the middle of the circle.”

  She did as instructed. Jaycee turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, Jelly. You’ve grown.”

  “Everyone’s been saying that. I’m a big girl, now,” she said. “Can I shoot it?”

  “Yes, wait a second. I’ll just take a few steps back—”

  THRAA-AA-ATT!

  The first bullet hit the red dot. The rest snaked their way up the blast sheet and popped a hole in the middle of the "A’ of USARIC.

  “—Whoa, Jelly,” Jaycee picked himself up from the floor and shook his head. “Never, ever shoot until I tell you it’s okay.”

  “But you said ‘yes’?”

  “I know I did, but I didn’t mean to fire.”

  Jelly thumped the side lever down and took aim at the blast sheet once again, “Well, you should be more careful next time—”

  “—You should be more careful next time,” Bonnie grabbed hold of the punching bag as Jelly waved the pain away from her claw, “You can’t just keep punching over and over again. I don’t care how angry you are.”

  Jelly squinted at Bonnie with evil in her eyes, “I was taking out the trash. Bonnie.”

  “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, young lady. You’re not getting so big that I can’t kick your furry little behind all over this place, you know.”

  “I can do what I like,” Jelly growled and licked her infinity claws. She spat the liquid on her tongue at the USARIC logo on the mat.

  “Ugh,” she winced, “Tastes like zinc.”

  “Never lick your wounds, sweetie. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Force of habit,” Jelly said. “And, strange things happen when I try to clean myself.”

  “What do you mean?” Bonnie asked.

  “Mommy said I have to use the bathroom like everyone else.”

  “Wool said that? Because you can’t fit in your tray, anymore?”

  “It’s too small,” Jelly tapped the side of the bag with her paws, “I have to stand in that stupid spraying water like humans do to clean myself.”

  “It’s not stupid, sweetie. It’s a shower,” Bonnie let go of the bag and took a few steps back, “It’s how we clean ourselves.”

  Jelly struck the bag with her claws, bursting the skin. A tuft of horsehair poked out.

  “It’s disgusting,” she said. “It’s more hygienic to use your own saliva and rub yourself down.”

  Bonnie giggled and pointed at Jelly’s paws, “Concentrate, sweetie. Remember, keep your left paw up, and wait for them to strike. One-two, duck, and upper-cut. Use your claws.”

  “One-two,” Jelly jabbed her left paw forward, “back, and upper cut,” she finished with a swish to the bag’s mid-section.

  “If you ever find yourself without a weapon, you’ll need to take them off-guard.”

  Jelly sneered at the bag, “Come and get me, bad guy. Step forward—”

  5’4”

  Medix

  Three hours later

  Wool ran her detached thumbnail across the wall above Jelly’s head. She looked up at her ‘mommy’s’ elbow.

  “Okay, step forward, honey,” Wool rocked to her heels and took a step back. A white light raced down the wall and hit the floor. It recorded the distance - five feet and four inches.

  “In the past twelve hours you’ve gained two feet,” Wool looked at her forearm and spoke into her wrist, “Time check, please.”

  The three black lines bent around and formed the current time on her skin - 20:00.

  “It’s dinner time,” Wool looked at Jelly, “You’re nearly as tall as I am.”

  “How tall are you, mommy?”

  “Five foot six.”

  Jelly extended her infinity claws and moved them from her own forehead to Wool’s.

  “We’re nearly the same height.”

  “That’s what I just said.” Wool experienced a sense of impending dread she’d never felt before. S
tanding in front of her was someone she’d grown to love. Quite literally. Adjusting to Jelly’s new height, the unthinkable crept through Wool’s mind.

  She was smarter, now, but her instincts and attitude remained the same.

  Could Jelly be trusted? Who’s to say she wouldn’t turn on her crew? The ramifications of Jelly’s progress - or evolution - were too terrifying to comprehend. None of this was lost on Wool.

  “Honey?”

  “Yes, mommy?”

  “Would you ever hurt me?”

  Jelly thought about her answer for a moment. Each second that trundled by perturbed Wool even more. Surely the cat should have said yes in an instant. The delay in answering was too much to bear.

  “B-Because, y-you know I’d never—”

  “—You’re scared, mommy.”

  Jelly hung her paws by her side and took some offense, “Don’t be scared.”

  “I j-just need to be able to trust you, honey. We all d-do.”

  “Why are you st-stuttering?” Jelly clenched her fists, thinking the woman was making fun of her.

  “I’m n-not.”

  “Y-Yes, you are,” Jelly turned her back on Wool and made for the door, “Feeding time. Are you c-coming?”

  “Yes.”

  Rest & Recuperation

  Space Opera Beta - Level Two

  Jaycee, Tripp, Bonnie, and Wool sat around the central mess hall table eating their stewed dinner from paper plates.

  Cups of fresh water and a large, half-full jug took place in the middle of the table.

  Dinah Washington’s What A Diff’rence A Day Makes provided the perfect background soundtrack for their dining.

  “I miss the taste of real food,” Wool held her hair back as she leaned in to slurp the stew on her spoon, “What is this, anyway?”

  “I think it’s essentially some sort of beef,” Tripp took a bite and chewed it around, “Mmm, not bad actually.”

  All eyes turned to Jelly at the head of the table, struggling with her spoon. Anyone who hadn’t met her would swear she was eighteen-years-old by this point.

  “How are you getting on, Jelly? Gotten used to the spoon, yet?”

  “My claws are getting in the way,” she complained and dropped the spoon on the floor. “I don’t like cutlery.”