Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins (4 page)

Nell elbowed him in the gut. Her sword points melted back into fingers. “Amarooks aren’t the only thing that can be confined to the dog house.”

Her husband nudged her back. “Glad to see a touch of humor is calming you.”

She seriously doubted Elvis was being funny.

The air currents died down, but the shuttle hovered a foot off the deck. A door-shape melted off the curved hull and a white ramp rolled down.

Groat appeared in the dark opening. Red armor glistened in the lights.

Nell lifted her foot. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bei stayed her. “Let him come to us. He’s an uninvited guest.”

Four other Scraptors fanned out behind him. Each cradled a rifle.

Apollie sucked in a breath. “Weapons are not allowed during a consult.”

Nell snorted. The Paladin was a fine one to talk. She carried her own set of chef’s knives on her feet.

“Stand down.” Bei glanced at the Skaperian warrior. “Their weapons are powered down. In the second it takes to charge, we could kill them several times over.”

Nell curled her hands into fists. She mustn’t touch him when he was in battle mode. He would need his arms to fight.

Groat clomped down the ramp and across the deck.

His guard protected his ship.

The hair at Nell’s nape stirred. What in the world?

“Passive sensors.” Bei set his hand on her back. “Since their scans picked up nothing on the outside, they’re trying it again on the inside.”

“They won’t get anything.” Elvis plucked wiry peach-colored feathers from his muzzle. “The insides are coated with Amarook crystals. Their signals will bounce right back.”

Groat’s pinschers opened and closed. Fists swung from his hand appendages underneath them. He stomped to within five feet of them then stopped. “The Founders demand the immediate withdrawal of three thousand Humans from their claimed lands.”

Nell blinked. Oh, thank God. The Founders were demanding more people relocated, not accusing the Syn-En of smuggling. Her gut clenched. But they had demanded boarding rights on a technicality. Why? She clamped her lips together. Bei was in charge. He would handle Bug-ugly.

“Why not send us a communiqué?” Bei stepped into the Groat’s personal space. “Why stop our voyage and board my ship?”

“I thought the NSA flagship, the
Nell Stafford,
would be more impressive.”
Groat’s
mandibles retracted. Spit glistened on his spiky teeth.

Nell squeezed her eyes closed. She hadn’t wanted the ship named after her, hadn’t asked for it.

Bei bared his own teeth. “Many have underestimated Nell Stafford and paid for it with their lives.”

Groat’s eye stalks looped down. He swung his arm and opened his hand. A red crystal skipped across the metal-plated deck and skidded to a stop near the toe of Bei’s boot. “The planet where the squatters live is slated for purification in ten days. The regulations require a verified contact. If you cannot remove the vermin before then, their deaths are upon you.”

Ridges erupted along Bei’s arm, tore open his sleeves.

Good gravy, her husband wanted to slice and dice Bug-ugly. Setting her hand on his arm, she calmed his NDA. The ridges slowly subsided. “What planet?”

“Surlat.” After a nod in Nell’s direction, Groat pivoted and stomped toward his ship.

Surlat? Nell cast about in her memories but came up empty. “Why do I know that name?”

Stooping, Bei picked up the crystal. “Because that is the name of the virus that wiped out over ninety percent of life on Earth.”

“Not just Earth.” Apollie dug her fingers into the feathers on Elvis’s head. “The Surlat strain nearly eliminated all life in the galaxy.”

Elvis clutched the warrior’s leg and whimpered.

Groat paused on the ramp. “If you’re foolish enough to attempt a rescue, you would do well to take precautions. Our information indicates the virus has mutated again. It’s deadlier than ever.”

Ten minutes after the Scraptor made his demands, Bei strode into the ready room next to the bridge. Electronics hummed. Human fear and Skaperian determination hung heavy on the rectangular room. Two-thirds of the command staff were already seated around the shiny Smart-Metal table and peered at the consoles embedded in the silver surface.

Bei had a decision to make—rescue three thousand potentially infected biologics or stand by while they burned during Surlat’s purification by fire.

Data packets rocketed through the WA. Lightning bolts of anger and steel rods of determination broadcast the sentiments of his men. As for the others...

Bei searched the streams for his wife’s presence. Razor wire blocked her thoughts. Elvis’s doing. Only an Amarook’s telepathy could sneak past the improved Syn-En firewalls. Even the doberman antivirals trotted past the protected zone. What would Nell say about his decision? She would tell him. When she was nervous, her conversation ran nearly nonstop. And she was still upset. Clasping his hands behind his back, Bei faced the crescent-shaped table.

A silver Nell stopped beside him. She raised her chin. Data streamed on the view screens mounted on the wall behind her.

A noticeable show of solidarity and trust. After more than a year together, he should have expected it, but it surprised him every time. He hooked his pinky through hers.

Her skin faded to a sparkly peach.

To his left, two pale humans nodded. The couple, Karl and Erin, didn’t bother glancing at the information provided to them.

Bei’s skin itched. The couple had been picked up five months ago from a Founders’ planet. Blotches marred their pale skin where the pterodactyl-like Decripi had experimented on them. Once aboard, they had needed new eyes, prostheses below their knees, and a handful of internal organs. Others had fared far worse. Twenty-two had died in transit. Yet only these two had volunteered to serve the Neo-Sentient Alliance.

Nell believed they wanted to right the wrongs done to them by helping others.

Bei looked for signs that they were spies. And he’d been forced to include them on this council in an effort to bridge gaps between Earthborn biologics and those who’d been enslaved. He hated it.

Twisting her hand, his wife laced her fingers through his. “They’re ashamed that they can’t read well. Not a necessary requirement for a lab rat, you know?”

Bei cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t known, but he should have guessed. Even on Earth, education had only been offered to those who the government considered worthy. “Did you find someone to teach them how to access the young one’s learning modules?”

Someone discreet, who would allow them to keep their pride intact.

And Bei could monitor what they learned and accessed from the ship’s Combat Information Center.

“Yes, of course, I found someone to teach them.”

Next to the new humans, the ship’s chief mechanic, Montgomery Smith, flipped open the point of his ebony index finger. A radio frequency screwdriver emerged from the cavity. He pointed it at the human male’s temple. “Let me know when your vision clears.”

“Will do.” Karl bent his head and stared at the screen. “There, that’s good.”

Mechanic Smith’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin. “Next time they start acting up, let me know. A good mechanic beats a doctor anytime.”

The man shuddered. “I’ve seen enough doctors.”

“You’re safe here. The Syn-En will die before they allow anything to happen to us.” Smith’s smile collapsed. Silently, he performed the same repair on the woman.

She nodded her thanks then focused on her screen.

Nell squeezed Bei’s hand. “Montgomery is the one who told me. He wanted to make certain you wouldn’t object to giving them access.”

He glanced at his wife. “Why didn’t he come to me directly?”

“Apparently, everyone on board thinks we share a Borg hive mind. What I know, you know and vice versa.” Furrows appeared in her forehead. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No. I should have thought of it.” He shot a query to the CIC. Seconds later, a data packet popped up. He opened the two biologics’ educational progress. Seventh level education in five months since they started. Whatever the Founders had done to them, it hadn’t affected their intelligence. Next, he browsed their search history.

Like all humans the Syn-En had recovered, Karl and Erin had scoured the databanks for information about Earth, Nell Stafford, and the Syn-En. Then they focused on the entertainment recordings his wife had brought with her into the Twenty-Third century. These two had a fondness for black and white Film Noir. Nothing suspicious, yet his circuits refused to settle.

“Sorry to be late.” Chief Medical Officer, Doc Cabo cleared his throat. His eyes were pitch black against his tan skin.

Bei sensed his frenzied whirl through the WA, glomming onto anything even remotely linked to the deadly Surlat strain.

Just as Doc picked a seat opposite the two Humans, the doors opened again. Captain Pennig marched in alongside Chief Engineer Sydney Shang’hai. The captain hooked his booted foot around the chair next to Doc and connected his cerebral interface to the ship. Light pulsed along Pennig’s fiberoptic cables. He clasped his hands on the table and waited. The ship’s engines strummed underfoot, and a subtle shift indicated motion. “We’re heading out of the solar system, awaiting an official heading.”
The Founders vessel has parked its mammoth keister behind the gas giant. They’re watching us, Admiral.

“Very good.” Bei nodded. They both knew the ship’s inevitable destination, but their allies needed to have their say and their enemies needed to see the NSA’s unity.

Montgomery Smith patted the empty chair between him and Apollie. His black eyes flashed as he watched the engineer sashay closer.

Commander Shang’hai’s straight black hair brushed the shoulders of her uniform tunic. Color brushed her wide cheekbones. She sat in the reserved chair and set her hand on his thigh. Her attention focused on Bei.

In the center of the table, their Skaperian ally, Paladin Apollie jabbed at the screen to slow the scrolling. She rubbed her red eyes and flicked up the page.

Bei glanced at his wife. One ET ally was missing.

Nell sighed. “Elvis, show yourself or someone will sit on you.”

The Amarook shimmered into sight. “You have lost your sense of humor, Nell Stafford. I think it is because you haven’t any pups to call your own.”

“I have plenty of others to look after.” She dug her fist into her hip. “Now drop the subject before I pluck every feather from your head and change your name to Telly Savalas.”

“Humans can be so obstinate.” Elvis licked his palms before smoothing the black feathers out of his eyes.

After one final squeeze, Nell released Bei’s hand and moved to the side. She sent a burst of hearts and flowers through the WA from behind her cage of razor wire.

Bei’s avatar caught them and stuffed them inside his chest cavity. “As many of you have heard, the Founders have asked us to remove a population of three thousand Humans from one of their territorial planets known as Surlat.”

The view screen behind him filled with the grainy image of a blue and green sphere. Three other planets separated Surlat from its yellow star.

Bei shunted their destination’s particulars to the view screen by the picture of the planet. He didn’t bother reading the data. It was over a hundred and twenty years out of date. “The Founders plan to sanitize the planet in ten days. We can attain high Surlatian orbit within sixteen Earth hours.”

The screen blanked. A moment later, an icon of his starship appeared. A line of dashes led from it to the fringe of this solar system, where it twirled into a corkscrew indicating wormhole travel, and ended in another dashed line outside of Surlat’s solar system.

Apollie crossed her lanky, yellow arms.

Elvis’s disappeared in the fur covering his dog-like chest.

They were going to fight his decision. Tough. He knew his duty. Bei rolled a red crystal in his palm. The Scraptor hadn’t provided any intel, just a Trojan virus designed to infect the starship’s systems and transmit the information back to the Founders. Bei was insulted more than surprised. The Founders could not be trusted. “As you all know, the Surlat strain caused a pandemic nearly a hundred and twenty years ago. According to our Scraptor messenger, the virus is alive and well on the planet. He even hinted that it is just as deadly as before.”

He added the last bit for the biologics, Karl and Erin’s, benefit. Everyone else already knew.

The woman opened and closed the tool compartment of her index finger.

The man frowned at the screen. “But there are others like us,” he thumped on his barrel-chest. “that are living there. So this creature-thing can’t be that deadly.”

“There are usually some who are resistant to the virus.” Apollie’s fingers flew over the keyboard in front of her. A pie chart replaced the navigation map on the view screen. “Humans and Scraptors were the most affected by the initial infection.”

The slices representing the two species consumed nearly half the pie. The Skaperian wedge amounted to a third of the remaining portion. Four species out of the Founding Five amounted to a sliver. Had the Decrepi found a cure and not shared it? Or were these ETs special?

Bei pointed to the thinnest slice. “Why had the rest of the Founders escaped the Plague with so few casualties?”

Apollie glanced up. The beads at the ends of her cornrows clacked together. “Once the pandemic hit the third system, the Founders quarantined their ships and their worlds. The Accumla, Decrepi, Unadul and Municians didn’t leave their world for Earth decades. The Scraptors remained to enforce the Founders will. As the most exposed, they had the highest casualties.” A smile played with her thin lips. “They also brought the disease back to the Founders’ worlds. They did not escape unscathed. And given how much the Founders lie, these numbers could be severely underestimated.”

Given the hatred between the Skaperians and the Founders, Bei would process that statement with more than a kilobyte of skepticism. He glanced at Doc.