Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins (32 page)

“Bringing gravity off-line in three...two...one.” Doc maintained his link with the ship. The ramp whined open. “I don’t know how long you have folks, so make the most of it.”

Nell’s hair drifted around her face. Unlatching the harness, she floated. “Is there atmosphere out there?”

“Yes.” Doc didn’t budge. “But you’re not leaving this shuttle. Admiral’s orders.”

Apollie pushed out of her seat and swam for the door. “That rule does not apply to me.”

Doc shrugged. “If I open it for you, Nell Stafford will sneak out then Bei will disassemble me.”

Nell glared at Doc. Not that it was his fault entirely; he was just following orders. Bad ones. Her arm shimmered silver. Guess her superpowers hadn’t deserted her after all. She touched the door. It liquified then melted into a puddle. “Tell my husband he might try asking me nicely to stay put instead of ordering you all to watch over me.”

Bei had his duty; she knew hers. With a push, she drifted down the stairs.

Apollie chuckled. “You are a born warrior.”

Doc squawked. “No. Dammit.”

Grabbing the rungs of the ladder, she pulled herself into the crew compartment.

Richmond blocked the exit. “Nell Stafford.”

“Either you get out of my way, Richmond, or I’ll melt a passage way through the hull and then the shuttle won’t be any use to anyone.”

Richmond’s lips thinned. A moment later, she thrust the rifle at Nell. “The Admiral says you should take this.”

Nell ran her hands along the smooth barrel before grabbing it. “Thank you. I’m sure I won’t need it.”

Apollie tugged her scythe from her belt. “The ship may have been boarded.”

“It has been.” Richmond headed for the bridge. “But the Bug-uglies were last sighted near the engine room.”

Right. Nell read between the lines. If the Scraptors had been anywhere close by, she would have been kept bodily from entering the ship. Pushing free of the shuttle, she entered the
America.
Green paint blistered the walls. Melted glass formed a glowing puddle on the bare deck. Burning bits of carpet floated between the ribs of the ship.

Doc shot past her and flattened against the wall. “This way.”

Nell pushed against the ceiling with her free hand. Warm paint clung to her fingers. She followed Doc straight for five feet then turned into another corridor.

Scorch marks lapped at the walls. Paint peeled away in strips. Black soot rimmed the edge of the blue, industrial carpet. The corridor tracked for ten feet before dead ending in another hallway. Smooth paint coated these walls. LCD televisions hung on the wall, rotating between bucolic landscapes and smiling faces. The low pile carpet ran for hundreds of feet in both directions.

Four Syn-En tracked along the corridor on the right.

Doc followed.

Light flashed in Nell’s peripheral vision. The hair on her neck stood on end. She’d been on the ship several times and never remembered seeing that before. She turned left.

“Nell Stafford.” Doc hissed. “Nell.”

Digging her velociraptor claw into the carpet, Apollie surged to Nell’s side. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” Nell dragged her hand along the wall to slow down. A red light blinked atop a swirl of metal. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Doc jogged up to them. “The children are the other way.”

He did a double-take and swore.

Apollie paled. “That is a bomb. A Scraptor bomb.”

Nell swallowed hard. “Can you defuse it?”

Doc reached for it but Apollie swatted his hand away. “We have to defuse them all at once. Taking only one out will set them all off.”

“All? As in more than one.” Nell pressed against the opposite wall.

Apollie’s hand shook as she pointed to the left. Another bomb blinked from the wall. And another.

Nell’s throat tightened. “How long do we have?”

Apollie pushed off the floor and swam down the hall. “We won’t know until we find the first one.”

Doc’s boots touched the floor and he ran. “Activate the magnetic properties of your NDA, Nell Stafford. You’ll be able to move faster.”

Faster away from the bomb or toward it? Fermites fuzzed the air around her. She might be able to help. Magnetic attraction tugged on her. She pressed against the floor and sprang forward. Raising her hands, she avoided cracking her head on the ceiling. Bit by bit, she got the hang of running in low gravity.

Fermites swarmed in a large cloud around her legs. Wisps broke off to surround the mines. She could do this. She had to do this. But not too soon. She had to find them all.

Ahead, Apollie ricocheted off one wall to bounce off another, then disappeared in a side corridor.

Doc surfed along the carpet before making the turn.

Slow me down, fermite buddies. Please slow me down. Please
. She skidded to a stop in front of the corridor.
Alright! Al
—

Two Scraptors lumbered down the hall. Behind them another mine blinked on the wall. This one had a timer. Five minutes and counting down.

The six legged Bug-ugly cracked his knuckles. “You need more than one braid to take me on, little Skaperian.”

The eight-legged Scraptor stabbed the walls with his sword appendages. “The war begins auspiciously. I will test my new armor on a sub-Human Syn-En and take Nell Stafford as a trophy.”

“Groat.” Ice water filled her veins. Of all the ships in all the galaxy why did he have to board hers?

Apollie deployed the rod of her scythe.

Doc’s arms transformed into serrated blades. “Return to the shuttle, Nell Stafford.”

The timer hit the four minute mark. There wasn’t time for a ‘my species is better than yours’ death match. Nell swung the rifle up, aimed for Groat’s eyestalks, and opened fire.

Admiral, the dreadnaught is moving into position
. Captain Amazon stood fully formed in cyberspace. Buttons ringed her, each a course of action waiting to be green-lighted.

Through the sensors, Bei watched the last of the modified fighters enter the dreadnaught.
Captain, lock onto forward armory and fire all batteries. Let’s see if we can cause the enemy’s ordinance to explode.

Aye, Admiral, locking onto Bug-ugly armory. Firing all batteries.

The
America
recoiled with each salvo
.
One. Two. The missiles concentrated on the forward quarter. Flames marked each hit.

Only one torpedo from salvos three and four breached the Scraptors’ countermeasures.

Waves five and six approached.

White balls blew out the bottom aft section of the dreadnaught. The battleship bucked. Cannons and debris hurtled through space.

Salvos five and six ripped into the dreadnaught. Puffs of light marked their detonations. A larger one bent the hull away from her bulkheads.

The dreadnaught fired. Handfuls of plasma cannons and torpedo tubes burst apart. But enough still worked to freckle the flaming background with ordinance.

All hands brace for impact
. Captain Amazon hit the alarms for the starboard side of the ship.

Damn, Bei hadn’t incapacitated the ship. He checked for his wife’s signal. Nothing. His software froze. Doc had used his medical authorization to lock their access to the WA. What the hell? He tamped down his emotions. He’d find out the reason soon enough.
Portland, bring us around. Let’s evacuate the biologics so the Captain can sound the abandon ship
.

Bringing her...
Portland paused.
Admiral, I’m picking up weapons fire near
Starflight 1’s
evacuation spot.

Get us as close as you can.
Bei set his finger on the rocket launcher. His armor sealed his skin, his lungs slowed to conserve oxygen. He amped the magnetic attraction to full.
Deploy the ramp.

Hatches sealed over the ship. Six Syn-En arrowed toward the opening. Bursts of light flashed to their right. Two Scraptors backed out of a destroyed corridor.

Bei didn’t need to run their identities through CIC. Groat and Tridit.
Take out the garbage.

The Syn-En opened fire.

Tridit whirled on his heel. Dents marred his armor and one eyestalk dangled at half-mast. Groat had no eyes and his left sword appendage dangled by a thread. They jumped off the gutted hallway.

A saucer-shaped craft rose from the tangled bulkheads and rescued them. They zoomed into free space.

Bei squeezed the trigger of the launcher. The rocket slammed into the flying saucer and exploded. Light danced along the energy barrier.

The saucer didn’t slow.

Bastards were getting away. Perched on the edge of the ramp, Bei reloaded.

The
America
listed to the side. Metal screamed. The energy barrier dissipated in a shower of sprinkles. Oxygen vented in a gust.
Go rescue as many of the civilians as you can.

Doc slapped his hand over Apollie’s face. The Skaperian squeezed her eyes closed. Blood bubbled out of a cut on her arm.

Slinging their rifles over the back, the Syn-En leapt from the ramp. Venting oxygen guided them to the ship’s interior.

Bei lowered the rocket launcher.
Where the hell was his wife?

As if hearing his call, Nell walked to the edge of the deck. Flickering lights splashed over her silver body. Clouds of glitter spun from her hands. They spread out in sheets.

He dove through it. His armor twinkled. Sensors registered twenty percent oxygen. He planted his feet against the wall with a hollow thud. “Nell.”

His wife’s lips moved silently.

“Don’t interrupt her.” Doc slung an unconscious Apollie over his shoulder. “She still has to disarm the bombs.”

“Bombs?” Bei scanned the ruined corridor. A light blinked in the passage.

“The Scraptors planted them everywhere.” Doc took a running leap from the hall. The shuttle backed up to meet him. “And they have to be switched off simultaneously, or else.”

Civilians crept along the ruined corridor. Adults carried toddlers. Teenagers carried newborns. Syn-En carried the injured. The
Starflight
extended its ramp to let them float up.

Bei sidled around his wife and slipped down the passage. The timer reported zero seconds remaining. A haze formed over the timer then everything dissolved, leaving nothing but wall behind. She’d done it. He wanted to squeeze her, kiss her.

Admiral, we’ve got incoming.

Bei returned to his wife’s side. The last of the civilians were boarding the shuttles.
All hands abandon ship. I repeat abandon ship. That includes you, Captain. Don’t give the Founders the satisfaction of another Syn-En termination.

Aye, Admiral. I’ve turned in my ticket for a chariot ride.
Captain Amazon shifted partly out of the CIC.

The last Syn-En jogged up the ramp.

Bei skimmed his fingers down his wife’s back. Silver bled into his hand.
Starflight 1 provide cover for ejecting life pods.
“Time to go, Nell. Everyone is safe.”

She nodded.

He guided her down the hallway to the ramp. The fermite ball condensed around them.

She staggered up the incline.

Inside the crew compartment, civilians squeezed onto the benches, crammed the engine room, and sucked in their breath to make room for them.

He swept her into his arms.
Move out, Starflight 2.
The ramp sealed shut.

A soft smile played with Nell’s lips. Peach color appeared through the silver coating “I did it. I exceeded my potential.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. Head lolling against his chest, she snored softly.

Overhead, the
America
rolled over from the latest volley. The shuttle dropped straight down to escape her death spiral.

Bei kissed Nell’s forehead.
Status of the dreadnaught.

She’s opening fire on the life pods
. Portland boxed up a file of their remaining munitions.
We’ll provide cover for as long as we can
.

Bei opened the file. They had another minute of armaments left.

A lot could happen in a minute.

“Is Nell Stafford sweepy?” A three-year old boy took his thumb out of his mouth. Spit glistened on the fingers he ran through Nell’s blond hair.

Cradling his wife closer, Bei widened his stance and adjusted to the turns of the shuttle. He needed to think of something radical, something that would convince the Scraptors to run. “Yes, she’s very tired.”

The hatch above the ladder opened. Brooklyn stuck his curly head through. “Alright everyone. Great job with the evacuation, now let’s disperse throughout the ship. Wounded stay down here. Everyone else report to their assigned spot.”

Bei pinged his medic. The last time he’d checked, Brooklyn had a piece of fighter wing sticking out his chest and his life signs were in the red.

Brooklyn tugged a toddler out of a woman’s hands and disappeared.
Your wife does some mighty fine work with those fermites, Admiral. Queens was doing his ham-handed best to patch me up, when Nell Stafford took over. She’ll put us out of a job if we’re not careful.

Glad to have you back on duty.
Bei shifted his hold.

The teenagers standing on the bench collapsed like an accordion, clearing space on the seat. A brown-haired girl patted the back of the baby she had on her shoulder. “You should set Nell Stafford down so the medics can tend her.”

Bei smiled as his wife taught him. “She’s just sleeping. Let the wounded use the space.”

The girl nodded and scampered up the ladder with the others.

The Syn-En emerged from the engine rooms. Each laid their wounded civilian burden on the benches. Doc, Queens, and Brooklyn slid down the ladder and landed on the deck. The two medics broke out the portable surgical units.

Doc sent the rest of the Syn-En upstairs to patch minor wounds. He ran his diag beam over Nell. “Sleeping. Nothing is wrong with her.”