Cyberkatz 1999

Battle at the T-Junction

     EPISODE THIRTEEN

"Kick it up a notch, baby," Melissa yelled. "They're gaining on us."

Kurt gritted his teeth and opened the throttle. He was experiencing an acute need for a stunt double. Controlling a monster motorbike on a mountain switchback in the dark in bare feet was too much for him to handle, especially with a smart-mouthed feline peppering him with advice.

Mel had hooked her tail into his belt loop and was facing backward like a talkative rear-view mirror. She had usurped the position of mission commander without the slightest empathy for the fact that her underdressed crew was freezing to death.

Even though the night was calm and relatively warm, Kurt could no longer feel his feet. His bare chest was a mass of gooseflesh, and his eyes were stinging. He thought longingly of his hockey bag in the back of the Trekker, packed with warm clothes. At this moment, happiness was a warm fleece shirt, wool socks, and a leather jacket.

Mel's commentary revolved around the need for more speed. Help was on the way, she assured him. All they had to do was avoid capture until they could make contact with her government forces racing to the rescue. There was no way of knowing if either of the headlights behind them represented any threat, but she was convinced that Ajax was right on their tail.

"Serve you right if I pull off and just say no," Kurt growled.

"-- and I'll bet you anything they contacted Ajax the minute you left the motel, if not sooner -- did you say something?"

"Never mind." A reunion with Ajax might be even worse than his current predicament.

On the final descent towards the ocean, Mel screeched that their pursuers were gaining on them. Kurt eased the throttle open. He had no idea how fast he was going, but it felt as if he were about to take off into outer space at any moment. How in the world was he going to negotiate the turn towards Tofino at the T-junction? Maybe he should forget the highway and just barrel through to the beach. At least then he would know if the cars following them had hostile intent, or just happened to be travelling the same road.

Before he knew it, they were at the stop sign. In a high-speed chase game, stopping, or even slowing down, was not an option. Left, right, or full speed ahead cross-country to the ocean?

At the last breathless second, he wrenched the bike to the right. His foot slipped and brushed against the pavement, bringing sensation back with a vengeance. Melissa slid off the seat and dangled by her tail, her claws scrabbling wildly on his leg. He grabbed for her, forgetting to keep the handlebar steady, veering off over pavement, gravel, grass, one bump, then another. Then he was flying, rubber squealing somewhere, Melissa's stream of advice interrupted, crashing to earth, unable to think or breathe.

"It's Ajax!" Melissa shouted in his ear. "Use the pistol!"

Kurt's shoulder grated and blossomed into fiery pain as he felt his side pocket. "Gone."

Melissa's communicator crackled with a noise that was neither feline nor human. "Try to stall him," she advised before disappearing.

Kurt rolled over and managed to raise himself to all fours. The motorcycle lay some twenty feet away, its lights still shining. Maybe, if he could get to it. . . .

Two feline shadows leaped onto the machine. Ajax and his contingent -- if it was really Ajax -- had already found it. There was nothing Kurt could do but run. Or hide. Neither seemed promising. Cats had night vision and keen smell, and could move faster than a human, especially an injured one. Who knew what their cybernetic counterparts were capable of?