Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins Read online

  Bei set his peach stone near hers. “Nell and I have decided it is time to start our family.”

  “Then I will ask the Meek for their blessing on your endeavors.” Davena beamed at them. “While you are trying to convince us to leave, you will stay in our most comfortable rooms and I will sample your chocolate.”

  Nell eyed the cliff-dwellings. The place had maybe sixty rooms. While the natives didn’t have three thousand people as Groat as said, there still wasn’t much room for everyone. Her comfy bed on the shuttle beckoned.

  “We accept.” Bei broke the heel of the bread in half and gave her a piece. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to explore your planet while we’re here. There may be other Humans to persuade.”

  Davena’s shoulders bowed. “You may explore, but we are the only ones to survive. The records state that we once covered the planet and now we are so few and our numbers are dwindling. We are failing the Meek.”

  Doc scooted his hand close to hers but didn’t touch her. “Maybe I can help you with that.”

  The oracle straightened. The air twinkled with fermites. “Truly?”

  Doc’s jaw worked up and down. A gurgling noise came out of his mouth before he blinked and reloaded his brain. His skin flushed red. “I mean, find a way to…to increase everyone’s fertility. Everyone’s.”

  Nell bit her lip to keep laughing. Doc would never be a Mata Hari. Good. She liked Davena, even if the woman was a stubborn knucklehead.

  Laughing emicons erupted in the WA.

  Davena set her chin on her steepled fingers. “But you will help us only if we agree to leave our home.”

  Doc clamped his lips together and glanced at the cliffs. “You can’t reproduce if you’re dead.”

  Bei wiped his fingers on his trousers. “Doc will help you if he can.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Doc jerked his head once.

  Nell tuned out the undercurrents of an argument brewing in the WA. They could hash it out. Her power levels were at a hundred percent and her skin shifted back to its normal pale color. Energy pumped through her veins. Eating real food had done her good. Should she return to their earlier discussion? No, why spoil the mood. They had twenty-four hours.

  Through the parted walls of the canyon, she spied the towering pillar. Heat shimmered through her, soft and comforting. “I want to see it.”

  She needed to see the writing etched into its side, feel its strength against her palms, and absorb its power.

  Davena rose to her feet. “It wants to meet you as well.”

  Chapter 14

  Groat sagged against the steering wheel of his shuttle. The metal hull creaked and groaned. Wind beat branches against his ship. He didn’t care. He’d made it down. Safely. Swiping at the sweat pooling at the base of his eyestalks, he straightened. “Scan for any sign of the virus.”

  Mopus claimed the Scraptors had the vaccine. But the stinky politician would say anything to farther his own ambitions.

  Groat cracked the knuckles of his hand. Recovering a data crystal packed with top secret weapons research would catapult anyone’s career. He splashed oil onto his arm. Why should Groat stop at Commander of the Fleet. Once he won this insignificant war, he would push for a seat on the Commerce Board.

  “Aye, Commander.” The recruit quivered in his new, pink armor. Shaking humanoid hands pushed the levers and twisted knobs. “Scanning for the virus.”

  Air whooshed through the vents. Groat inhaled the pungent ozone before manually adjusting the outputs. His new shuttle didn’t have these problems. But his grandsire had always said the older ships were better at landing on Surlat. He’d flown twelve missions to the planet before the disease had taken his life.

  Groat’s father had landed three times before the virus struck.

  Groat would not die on this miserable space rock. He had a bright future ahead of him. He crossed to the hatch from the bridge to the hallway.

  The console in front of the recruit burped. “No virus detected, Commander.”

  “Very good. Tridit, meet me in the airlock.” Groat’s joints liquified inside his armor. He would survive. He must survive. He entered the corridor. Spotty lighting cast the hallway into balls of light and pits of darkness. A half dozen doors hung askew in their rusty frames. Conduits rattled against the blistered ceiling. Holding onto the rail, he mitigated the wobble and shake in his limbs.

  One bulkhead door shuddered open. Then another. His boots clomped on the metal deck. His claws scratched the paint from the walls. The last hatch spat steam as it groaned opened. Water vapor pebbled on his arm. Cooling vents clicked and chilled air washed over him.

  He stepped inside the decontamination room before the door shut again. Steam belched and hissed until the air fogged with it. One dead Munician. Two dead Municians. Three—

  The overhead fan purred to life, chasing away the steam and leaving only the plip-plop of water.

  Starting with his eyestalks and ending with his boots, Groat shook off the water. Droplets pinged the pipes and shower heads. He picked up his tail and smoothed away the moisture. Damn, that decontamination solution dulled his armor’s shine. He rolled his shoulders. As Commander of the Fleet, he could requisition enough oil to bathe in.

  He cranked the wheel, opening the door to the airlock.

  Tridit, his second-in-command, stood with an extra rebreather in his hand. Dents marred his blood red armor, and he lacked the newest set of stabbing appendages. “I bet our stinky political officer is gnashing his perfect teeth that you disregarded his advice.”

  “The Humans will learn to fear us. I will not hide from them, when we have the right to this planet.” Groat inserted the oval rebreather in his mandibles. The thing wouldn’t prevent the virus, but it would slow down the infection, plus the built-in microphone would relay directly to their internal com. “Mopus has spent too much time coddling the weaker species. Diplomacy should only be used for stronger foes—to buy time until we conquer them. All others should be crushed.”

  He ground his fist in his hand. If Humans had been dealt with when they were pounding rocks and picking bugs off each other, he wouldn’t be risking his life now.

  Then again, he wouldn’t be on the verge of becoming Commander of the Fleet.

  He removed a projectile pistol and an energy gun from the rack by the outside hatch.

  “The diplomats are valued too highly.” Tridit threaded throwing knives in the strap across his segmented chest. “We do all the work. And yet, we are the least respected of the Founders.”

  Groat punched the button embedded in the hull next to the exit. “This war will change that.”

  Tridit grunted. “I’ll outgrow my armor before the Board risks bleeding red on the budget and approve a war.”

  The door retracted. Sunlight crept inside the airlock. Metal complained as the ramp slowly extended.

  Stepping from the shadows, Groat surveyed the landscape. A deep gash slashed through the forest floor, uprooting pine trees and shoving them to the side. Nothing moved. Any living thing was smart to fear the Scraptors. Not that fear would save them. “The Board won’t need much convincing. Since losing their favorite lab rats, the Decripi’s new medical advances have been set back a decade. The Accumula has seen their markets diminish by half as the Skaperian worlds are once more dealing cheap ore mined by humans. And the Unadul are bitching about the corruption of their art by invasive species.”

  Stopping next to him, Tridit exercised his pinschers. “The Founders like to complain. And complain. And complain.”

  “True.” The ramp creaked to a halt. Groat marched down it. In the valley, surrounded by tall trees, he couldn’t see the pillar. The pillar would help him get his bearings. “But, the citizenry are already complaining about the rising price of commodities. Since this is an election year, it won’t be long before the Board must listen.”

  “And offer promises they have no intention of keeping.”

  “We’ll make them keep them.” Groat scramb
led out of the furrow his ship created when it landed. His boots punched holes in the brown dirt as he climbed. His weight crushed the patchy grass. Veering left, he headed up an incline. “The citizens need to know the extent of this NSA threat. Scare them enough, and they’ll give us a bucket with bottomless credit.”

  “For that to happen, there would have to be an attack on one of the home worlds.” Tridit snapped off branches, clearing a path through the forest.

  “Not all Humans have left.”

  “That’s because some aren’t willing to give up their pets. And why should they? Property is property.” Tridit shoved over a sapling. “We never should have signed the Erwar Codicils.”

  “They’ll be rescinded after the war.”

  Tridit’s eyestalks swiveled on his bullet-shaped head. “How do you know this?”

  “Because I will be Commander of the Fleet, and you will be my second.” Groat paused on a rocky ledge. Over the splash of water, did he detect voices?

  “I heard it, too.” Tridit clacked his pinschers. “What do you say we begin the clean-up of the planet a little early?”

  Groat licked his lips and his blood pounded a battle cry inside his veins. His armor had yet to taste the enemy’s defeat. Still… “After we have the crystal, we shall celebrate.”

  Tridit’s appendages drooped. “What’s on this crystal anyway?”

  “Weapons information.” Spearing the mountainside to keep his balance, Groat scaled the rocky slope. “We both know that the Founders have done nothing but the minimum of research into new weapons since the Plague hit. They claim they’ve had to start everything from scratch. They won’t have that excuse when we return.”

  “And if they try?” Tridit hacked at the branches as they neared the top.

  “We’ll make a copy and begin our own research.” Groat’s mandibles peeled away from the rebreather. “We’re the Founders’ muscle. Nothing stands between us and them. And if we decide we don’t need them…”

  Tridit’s chuckle was dry as sandpaper. “‘Bout time someone realized that.”

  “Are you in?” Not that Groat doubted it.

  Tridit had an ambitious wife and three expensive offspring to outfit in their first armor. “I have a list of cowards who might not support you. As a show of my allegiance, I could eliminate their arguments.”

  “For the cause.” Groat slammed his fists on the armored shoulders of his fellow Scraptor.

  “For the greatest cause.” Tridit pounded back.

  The impact rippled down Groat’s body. What his comrade lacked in updates, he made up in strength. He cleared the last branch.

  Two Humans stood by the stream running through the clearing. A third leapt over the edge. A splash and cheer quickly followed.

  A Human male blinked before striding forward. “Welcome. I—”

  Groat speared him through the mouth. Warm liquid gushed around his appendage.

  The other Human, a female, screamed.

  Tridit pounced upon her. Limbs flew as he snipped them off with his pinschers. When he plucked out her eyes, she fell silent.

  Lifting the Human off his feet, Groat slashed and chopped a little at a time. Bone snapped with nary a protest. Flesh sliced off. Soft tissue shredded. Blood painted the grass and clawed red fingers toward the river. The new armor performed better than expected.

  Perhaps, he’d try it on the Syn-En before he left.

  Tridit punted the female’s head into the water. “I think they should join their friends.”

  Groat batted the larger pieces into the stream but left the sticky bits in piles on the grass. “Come. Let us finish our mission before we indulge ourselves further.”

  Chapter 15

  Bei paused at the edge of the meadow. Something was not right. He enhanced his vision. Fermites danced over the yellow and purple wildflowers, pollinating them in the absence of insects. A field of golden grain swayed at the black base of the obelisk. The top of the pillar nearly pierced the gray clouds. Rays of sunshine spotlighted patches of the field.

  Doc plunged ahead. Davena and Apollie followed close behind. After the three kilometer trek, Bei knew nothing about the biologics’ records, but far too much about Doc’s trepidation to seduce Davena.

  Pushing aside the sheaves of wheat, Nell stopped and faced him. “What is it?”

  “I thought I heard something.” He replayed his memory files and amplified the sound. His skin crawled at the lack of animal life.

  Releasing the grain, his wife stomped back to his side.

  He tuned her out and buffered against the sounds their group made. In the distance, he picked up voices and laughter.

  And a scream.

  The laughter and voices hushed.

  The scream continued, then stopped abruptly. A death sound.

  Bei’s armor hardened. Starflight 1 return to base camp. Starflight 2 rendezvous at the pillar to collect a very important package. Priority one.

  Both pilots acknowledged the emergency order and issued their ETA to the second.

  Ten minutes too long. In this field they could be picked off easily. His wife could die.

  Nell’s skin shimmered to silver. She scampered to his side and placed her back to his. “What is it?”

  “Someone is in distress.” He marked the time code and recalled his position. Activating the audio sensors in his NDA, he marked the general location then projected a topographic map of the probable area. Too many square kilometers to search. He pinged Doc.

  “This is like paradise. There’s nothing on this planet to cause distress.” Her fingers lengthened into blades. “Nothing except the colony, us and…”

  “Scraptors.” Bei finished her sentence just as the others emerged from the wheat field.

  “Why couldn’t the Bug-uglies wait the nine days they gave us to evacuate? What could be so important?”

  That was the question. Bei didn’t like the answers he formulated.

  Doc scratched his black goatee. “I picked it up as well.” He flipped open the compartment on his forearm and fingered the bandages, drugs, and assorted syringes packed inside. “I can handle one, maybe two patients until the shuttle arrives with more supplies.”

  Bei overlaid Doc’s assessment with his own. With their signals less than ten meters apart only the edges of the search area shrunk. “We need to find them. Fast.”

  Apollie gathered her braids in a single ponytail behind her head and bound it with a flower stem. “I know some Human first aid.” She wiggled her hips, shifting the equipment belt. “And I have more supplies.”

  The Skaperian could cover ground as fast as Doc. With a thought, Bei shifted his ocular implants to project the topography of the targeted area. “We’ll spread out. Ten meters apart and proceed to these hills.”

  The forest prevented him from detecting any Human or Scraptor heat signatures.

  “Wait!” Nell spun on her heel and faced him. Her bladed arms glinted in the sunshine.

  Bei swallowed the curse words on his tongue.

  She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t want to go with you. I may be willing to take on the evil elf, but I haven’t the skills to fight a Scraptor.”

  “Fight?” Davena’s caramel skin paled. “You have brought violence to my world?”

  After sealing his forearm, Doc rolled his shoulders. “The Founders keep their worlds with violence. This is their world and they want it back, without your people on it.”

  Retreating a step, Davena clutched the neckline of her black robes. “Surely these Founders wouldn’t…”

  “They would and more.” Apollie unhooked the sickle from her belt. Her raptor claws on her middle toes dug into the rich loam. “What did you hear?”

  “A scream.” Bei didn’t elaborate. He trusted the Skaperian would understand what was unspoken.

  Davena shook herself. “Someone is hurt then. I will go and—”

  As the blade melted away, Nell hooked her arm through the oracle’s. “We will stay here. You will
show me the pillar while we wait for one of my husband’s shuttles to pick us up.”

  “But…” Davena raised her hands to shoulder height and flashed her palms at the cloudy sky. Fermites formed a glittering haze around the two.

  Bei pinned his wife with a glare. She was at her most dangerous when she was being cooperative. “Doc has the training to heal your people. We’ll bring them back to you.”

  Or whatever was left of them.

  After making sure his rifle was secured, Bei gripped his sidearm. “Ready?”

  Doc and Apollie nodded.

  “Wait.” Nell blew her bangs out of her eyes and stuck her free hand in the hologram. “Davena, is there any place over here where your people might hang out?”

  Bei nearly swallowed his tongue. He should have thought of asking for intel, especially as his tech was proving unreliable.

  Davena’s jet curls bounced as her attention shifted from the projection to the horizon and back again. “There is a waterfall and pool where our unattached men and women like to court. They perform acrobatics to prove their worthiness as a mate.”

  A smile curled his wife’s lips. “Can you show us where this waterfall is, and what path your people might take?”

  Biting her lip, the oracle circled an area on the west-facing cliff. “The pool is here, and they would travel toward us to return home.”

  Nell released Davena, rose up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to Bei’s cheek. “Be safe. All of you.”

  Davena glanced at Doc before studying her bare feet. “May the benevolence of the Meek surround and protect you.”

  Fermites swarmed toward them at her blessing.

  Switching off his topographical projection, Bei sprinted across the field. His arms pumped faster, his legs kept pace. The grain field parted before him, clearing a path. Maybe the fermites had their good uses.

  Apollie sprang like a cricket on Bei’s right. Doc pushed his upgrades to their limit to keep up.

  Time counted down inside Bei’s skull. He monitored the Starflights’ transmissions, synced his internal clock to the shuttles’ ETAs. The ship’s transponders pinged his cerebral interface as they cleared the horizon.