The twentieth second rolled round, in time for the second boom.
Still nothing.
The audio wave’s visual bump representation slid off to the left and out of their lives forever.
The holovideo paused on Daisy the tiger.
The board members – and Dimitri and Maar – turned to Tripp for an explanation.
“So, this is the result. The message only gets a response from cats. Specifically, domesticated female house cats. We played the message to males and they didn’t respond.”
“Did you try any other lifeforms?” Maar asked.
“The investigation was, and still is, under embargo as per the Infinity Clause. Subsection twelve-point-eight, subsection three. If it wasn’t for that, I could have outsourced more—”
“—Okay, I’ve heard enough, Tripp.” Maar walked around the console and waved his hand across the image.
It rolled several thousand frames back to the start of the video, ending with a freeze-frame of Spooky’s confused face.
Maar cleared his throat, none-too-happy about the decision he was about to make. He addressed the board members.
“People of the board, USARIC finds itself in a rather invidious position. At once, we have a missing vessel with five of USARIC’s souls on board. Their whereabouts and state of wellbeing is unknown. We must presume they have expired. Dimitri?”
The board members looked to Dimitri in solemnity. He stood up and address the men around the cone.
“It strikes me that Tripp, here, has made a worthwhile discovery. The 2085 Bering Treaty stipulates that major advances be kept under embargo until such time as they are established as fact. Since we cannot establish any facts – about the well-being of Space Opera Alpha, the nature of the Saturn Cry or, indeed, if this cat revelation is a hoax – it must remain embargoed.”
Tripp pressed his hands together, hoping to convince his superiors. “Am I right in thinking if the board votes unanimously ten-to-one in favor of a decision, it will pass?”
“Correct.”
Tripp turned to the ten remaining board members. “People, you have seen the evidence presented before you. It sounds as laughable as it is silly, I grant you, but the fact remains that USARIC and its scientists and crew are stuck. Opera Beta is due to launch next year, 2118.”
Tripp clicked his fingers.
An imprint of Opera Beta appeared above the table. A brilliant-white, cone-shaped space vessel with a revolving cylindrical midsection.
“I am commander for this upcoming mission to Enceladus. We need answers. Not only to what happened to Opera Alpha, but also to the meaning of Saturn Cry. The question is, can you, in good conscience, allow my crew and I up there knowing that we failed to thoroughly scrutinize the opportunities present in my findings?”
The board muttered amongst themselves. Maar stepped forward with a great deal of sincerity.
“Be careful what you wish for, Tripp.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
The board members reached a conclusion quicker than Tripp was able to ask.
“Board members, I ask your permission for a temporary lift of Infinity Clause twelve-point-eight, subsection three. Ergo, you afford USARIC the opportunity to pursue this feline line of inquiry with regard to Saturn Cry. To make it public and, if the research should produce results, find the most suitable subject to join the Opera Beta crew and assist them in deciphering the code.”
All ten board members raised their hands, much to Dimitri and Maar’s astonishment.
Tripp breathed a sigh of relief. The board voted unanimously to kick-start the search for the first cat in space. A historic moment.
“Quite amaziant, Healy,” Dimitri chuckled, “You’re good.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER THREE
Do you own a cat?
If so, USARIC needs your help.
We are on the hunt to find the most suitable domesticated feline for the first ever cross-species manned flight into space.
Hundreds of thousands of participants are signing up their pet to USARIC’s Star Cat project.
The selected candidate will receive a lifetime of fully comprehensive insurance. Her owners will be awarded two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.
The entry criteria is simple and subject to official verification:
1: Your cat must be female.
2: She must be unsterilized.
3: Aged between three and five years.
4: Weigh between five and ten pounds.
Could your cat be the first feline in space? If she conforms to the entry criteria, and you wish to take part in this ground-breaking advancement in space exploration, please visit StarCatProject on all Individimedia channels and enter your pet today.
USARIC. The prowl is on.
Jamie watched the commercial on the one-thousand-foot screen that hung on the north-side of the arena. It resembled a proper sports stadium, about the size of a regular football pitch.
The logo for the Star Cat Project contained a furry paw with shiny metal claws encased on a titanium circle. The image revolved to cheering from at least fifty-thousand audience members.
Jamie and Emily sat in the participant gallery, surface level to the events that were about to play out on the pitch.
The commotion from the audience forced Jamie to raise his voice.
“Mom?”
“Yes, poppet?”
“What happens now?”
Emily pointed to a bank of metal cages being hauled to the west side of the arena.
“See that?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“The numbers go from one to fifty. Jelly is in paddock eighteen. They’re going to race.”
Jamie leaned forward onto the back of a little girl’s chair. Her blonde hair folded over the back and got trapped under his arm.
“Hey!”
“Oh, sorry,” Jamie said, lifting his arms. “I didn’t mean to.”
She brushed her shoulder and smiled at Jamie. “That’s okay.”
Jamie screwed his face and mustered up the courage to break the ice. “Is your cat taking part?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Cindee,” the girl said. “She’s number forty-four.”
“My name is Jamie. What’s your name?”
“Fiorina. Nice to meet you, Jamie.” She took his hand and yanked it up and down. Clearly, Jamie had never shaken anyone’s hand until now. In fact, neither had she. Both had seen adults do it a lot, recently, and it made them feel like a bit older than they were.
Fiorina’s mother smiled at Jamie. He returned the sentiment and leaned back in his chair.
“My cat’s name is Jelly, and she’s going to win.”
“Oh yeah?” Fiorina asked. “Like Star Jelly?”
“Yeah,” Jamie revealed, confidently, “She’s always running up trees and stuff.”
“Cindee does that, too,” Fiorina chuckled to herself. “We’ll see who is faster.”
Dramatic music rocketed out of the arena speakers as the lights dipped down. The commotion from the audience died down with it.
The arena’s mega-screen flickered, propelling a holographic title into the middle of the grounds.
“Welcome, people, to the Chrome Valley CV Arena. Please remain seated and ensure all Outernet devices are switched off.”
Emily looked at Jamie. “Show me your arm, poppet—”
“—but, Mom, I switched it off, already.”