Эндрю Маккей: Star Cat: War Mage

“Okay, in Jitsaku terminology, this known as taking out the trash ,” Bonnie rolled her shoulders and held up her fists.

“Taking out the trash,” Jelly repeated, somewhat confused.

Bonnie trained her eyes on the bag and prepared to deliver a vicious blow, “Okay, girl. Watch me very carefully…”

Over in Medix, Tripp, Tor, and Jaycee observed a bloodied, severed talon from the dead Shanta laying on a bed.

Manuel threw his beam across its shiny surface and projected the results onto a three-dimensional image via the E-MRI scan.

He floated over to the crew, “Just finalizing the data to check for things I consider to be abnormal .”

Jaycee turned to Tor and smirked, “He doesn’t mean you .”

“What?” Tor asked, failing to get the joke.

Tripp found the remark hilarious. He covered his mouth in a futile attempt to stop himself laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” Tor asked.

“I’m not, I’m sorry,” Tor cleared his throat, but simply couldn’t stop from laughing, “I don’t—Shut up,” He nudged Jaycee on the shoulder. The big fellow turned away and tried to suppress his laughter.

So, too, did Manuel, “Ahem, I’m sorry.”

“Even the damn computer is laughing at me,” Tor complained, “Right, that’s enough, I’m going to Pure Genius to get ready. Where I’m welcome .”

Jaycee shouted after him through his sudden fit of laughter, “Hey, remember. Put your Decapidisc on. I’ll be coming up to check soon.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tor slammed the door shut behind him.

Manuel and the two men burst out laughing, “Oh, my . That was funny.”

“I can’t breathe,” Tripp gasped through his chuckles.

Manuel cleared his throat and straightened his covers, “Okay. Can we concentrate, now, on the task at hand?”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” Tripp swallowed his churlish giggles and pointed at the Shanta talon on the holograph, “Benign bacteria?”

“Probably a coincidence,” Manuel said. “A Dodecahydrate, of sorts. Shares a lot of properties with chrome.”

“Chrome?” Tripp struggled to comprehend the data.

Manuel pointed his back cover at the results, “Yes. Some of the elements closely resemble potassium sulfate. As far as comparable elements go, that’s where it ends. It’s absolutely unique, otherwise.”

Jaycee thumped the sword-like talon’s surface and failed to produce so much as a dent in it.

“Impenetrable, too,” Manuel pointed out the obvious.

Tripp pointed to the second image on the E-MRI. A cluster of colored digital blobs, “What about the pink stuff?”

“The blood?” Manuel shook his body around, “Don’t even get me started on that . The make-up is entirely alien. A thorough Ames test recorded high levels of carcinogens.”

The chart displayed an array of red values and numbers.

“So Pink Symphony is cancer ?”

“In its current form, it’s far worse. Way more aggressive,” Manuel said. “The cell counts dial down. It’s more like an immune deficiency. Some evolutionary mix-up.”

“Great,” Jaycee kicked the bed, “And we’ve all got it?”

Manuel protested, “It’s not my fault, nor the bed’s. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Symphonium,” Tripp stood stepped away from the talon. “If it needs a name and we have to report back to USARIC, we’re not calling it Pink Symphony.”

“Why not?” Manuel asked. “That’s its own interpretation of itself. Besides, it hasn’t affected any of you Series Three units. Yet .”

Manuel’s flippant remark caused Tripp to burst with anger.

“I realize that, you dolt . But I refuse to call my illness Pink Symphony, okay?”

Jaycee went to hold him back, “Tripp, don’t get mad—”

“—I can’t go back home and tell my wife the reason I’m wearing a mask and can never breathe the same air as her again is because I’m infected with something called Pink Symphony ,” Tripp threw Jaycee back and stormed out of the room, “It’s called Symphonium . Manuel, record that name—”

“—But, Captain, I—”

“—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…”

“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.”