Эндрю Маккей: Star Cat: War Mage

“We have no outer-suits left,” Jaycee said.

“Doesn’t matter. Use the bridge. Don’t look at anything, just run. I’ll take care of these scumbags.”

“Ten minutes? We’ll never make it out alive.”

“Well, it’s either that or we definitely die,” Alex huffed in haste, “Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, we’ll go,” Jaycee said. “And, thanks.”

“Yeah, we’ll open up a tea shop together later,” Alex quipped, “Now, go.”

Tripp and Jaycee ran out of the control deck and made their way to the primary airlock.

Alex leaned against the door frame and lowered his gun. He surveyed the battered room and smiled at his Captain, “Hey, Oxade.”

“Leave me alone, you treacherous little runt,” he slumped into the splattered swivel chair. Resigned to an early death, he leaned back and hung his arms down by his side, “If you’re going to kill us, just do it already.”

Nutrene rolled around on the floor and clutched her arm. Her cries of anguish didn’t stop the conversation between the two men.

“Oh, I will.”

“Just tell me one thing, Hughes ,” Oxade said. “How did—Hey, Nutrene, can you stop your screaming, woman?”

“He shot me in the d-damn shoulder.”

A smart bomb grenade tumbled across the ground and knocked the side her hand.

“I don’t care. Just quit your whining, I can’t hear myself hear myself ,” Oxade yelped.

“You were saying?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. H-How did you get in? To USARIC?”

“It’s a long story, my friend,” Alex stepped over to Nutrene and snatched the smart bomb from her clutches, “Give me that.”

“Ugghhh, and to think I had the hots for you.”

“In your dreams, grandma,” Alex snorted and returned to the door. He set the grenade down by the wall in the corridor.

“PAAC?” Oxade asked. “You’re part of that stupid animal cruelty pack of inbred imbeciles?”

“Nah, they’re long gone, now. We’re a new breed, I guess you could say.”

“Like a revolution?”

“More like an evolution, ” Alex snorted through his mask, “A plan five years in the making. If you thought USARIC were ruthless killers, you should check us out.”

Oxade shook his head. “Why, Alex? Why all this?”

Alex stepped out through the door and gripped the frame in his hand, “Because USARIC is a hell-sucking, mega-conglomerate behemoth that needs taking down. We can’t have whatever Opera Beta and Anderson discovered falling into their hands, now. Can we?”

“You’re so dead.”

Alex gripped the door and pulled it across it slider, “You first.”

SCHLAMMM!

He took several steps back and aimed his D-REZ at the panel.

THRAATATATT-SCH-PACKKK!

He fired a semi-automatic burst of bullets at the panel, shutting the door down and sealing the bad guys in.

Alex’s parting shot – a swift flip of the bird through the window – provided the icing on the cake.

Alex sprinted along the gantry and looked for the staircase. He lifted his left forearm to his face and pressed the ink on his skin to his wrist, “Tripp? This is Alex, do you read me?”

Tripp’s voice came from his wrist, “Yes, I read you. We’re at the Primary Airlock, now. We, uh, found something .”

“What?”

“Get down here, quick. We’re going to need your help.”

“I’m on my way…” he cut the connection off and ran into the depths of the walkway.

The smart bomb outside the control deck remained perfectly still – for a few seconds.

Then, it came to life and shifted around.

CLICK-CLANG.

It fell onto its side and rolled toward the door. The outer shell warbled and expanded.

“Nggg…” it’s feminine voice squealed. The shell casing liquefied and streaked across the floor, “Ugh, I hate this so much…”

The liquid twisted a few inches into the air and formed a cylindrical shape about the size of a beach ball.

A secondary ‘head’ inflated into a silvery metal. It shook its head and blinked its eyebulbs.

“Ah,” Neg bounced against the door, fully-formed, “That’s better.”

“Neg,” Oxade’s damp screams came from within the control deck, “Get us out of here.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” she said and pressed her curved ‘chest’ against the door.

SCHWIZZ-SCHPAANG!

A metal sphere formed around her frame and spun at speed, twisting the image of the door in front of her, “Poz, get ready.”

Poz hopped up and down from the other side of the door and looked through the window, “What? How did you get out there?”

“Just shut up and connect.”

Neg’s magnetic strength slipped through the door and pulled Poz toward it.

“Hey, what are you—”

“—Saving everyone’s life, you numb skull. Get over here, now.”

Oxade scooped his D-REZ from the floor and unclipped the magazine. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a fresh one as he watched Poz’s body lasso toward the door. His lower frame swept the detritus and mess out of his path.

“This is most embarrassing.”

“Just shut up and open the door, nitwit , ” Oxade palmed the magazine into his gun and turned to Nutrene, “Hey, you.”

“What?”

“How’s the arm?”

Nutrene picked up her Rez-9 in her bad arm. She focused her monocle on the bleeding wound, “I’ll live.”

SCHWUNT!

Poz and Neg slammed together on opposite sides of the door. They blinked their eyebulbs at each other.

“Nice to see you again, sweetie,” Neg beamed.

“Yeah, whatever. Just help me open this stupid door.”

They slid down to the floor together and rolled across the door railings, pulling it open.

CREEEAAAAAKKK!

“Oxade,” Neg beeped, “The door is open, as per your request.

“Thanks, guys,” Oxade and Nutrene looked at each other through their masks.

“New plan,” he gesticulated with his D-REZ, barely able to contain his anger, “I’m going to put a bullet in Alex’s brain. And then Jaycee’s.”

“Good plan.”

“And then I’m going to make Anderson watch me remove Tripp’s head, turn it upside down and thump it down the neck hole.”

“Upside down? I like that,” Nutrene snarled, wanting revenge, but kept up the professional pretense, “Oh. As Opera Charlie’s medician, do you mind if I perform a live vivisection on that bitch of a cat?”

“Be my guest, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Nutrene licked her lips and walked toward the door.

“Make it as slow and painful as possible. I want to watch the life fade away from her eyes.”

“Get in line, sweetie.”

“Kill ‘em,” Oxade yelled and kicked the chair into the damaged communications console on his way out, “Kill ‘em all.”

“Manuel?” Tripp snapped his fingers as he reached the inner airlock door.

“Y-y-yessss,” The book flickered and spasmed in the air, never fully coming to life, “I c-can’t—”

“—Manuel, what’s wrong?”

“Oxade shot my m-mainframe. I’m d-dying—” Manuel buzzed in and out of the air.

Tripp realized there and then that Manuel was dying in front of his and Jaycee’s eyes.

“You’re l-leaving Op-p-p-pera B-Beta—”

“—No, no, damn it,” Tripp went to grab Manuel. He forgot that the book couldn’t be touched, “We can take you with us. Install you on their comms panels.”

“N-No. I’m obsolete. It’ll never work,” Manuel’s voiced ground to super-slow motion, “It’s over, Tripp.”