The Syn-En Solution Page 2

  The chief tucked Faso’s stiff body under his arm and carried her feet first out of the room. “Hell Admiral, her confinement for the duration is the gift that keeps on giving.”

  Exiting the briefing room, Bei stepped onto the command deck, taking in his three man bridge crew, the fleet’s second in command and two civilians. He scanned the half circle shaped room and his crew. Ten steps could carry him to any of the work stations embedded in the hull, five steps to his chair in the center of the room. Panning from left to right, three Syn-En soldiers and the Starfarer’s captain manned the com, navigation, weapons and telemetry stations. Their associated LCD screens banded the room like a bank of dark windows. Overhead white lights shone harshly down on the soldiers.

  On his left, two civilians sprawled on the floor working on the fiber optic wiring of the empty science and tactical bays. Both frowned as the chief toted Faso, like unclaimed luggage, to the elevator tucked into the quarter moon space off Bei’s left shoulder.

  Next to the doors and connected to the communication’s hub, Commander Havana Keyes turned toward him. “Admiral.”

  She stroked the black fiber optic cables hanging from the knot of black hair restrained at her nape while her brown-eyed gaze skimmed Chief Rome.

  Commander Keyes and the chief’s sexual tension clogged the wireless array his command staff shared. Although the link was originally created to transfer data and orders during an emergency, the Syn-En had quickly learned to express their repressed emotions through the WA. These bursts of feelings not only allowed others to know how a particular soldier felt but also caused a sympathetic response in the recipient’s brains.

  Bei shifted as Rome and Keyes’s arousal wormed its way into his body. As soon as they set foot on Terra Dos’s lush landscape, Bei would use his authority to unite those two in marriage. Using the WA, he pinged both soldiers to get their attention. Save it for later.

  The chief smiled, flashing the gap in between his front teeth at everyone.

  Commander Keyes flushed.

  Their arousal melted into the background noise of the WA. One problem solved.

  Still grinning like an extinct baboon, Chief Rome stepped inside the elevator and propped Faso against one wall as the door slid closed.

  Bei strode closer to the two civilians. Would these two cause trouble over Faso’s confinement or did they view her as Syn-En? “Report, Commander Keyes.”

  After a fearful look in his direction, both civilians ducked their heads inside the workspace under the flat LCD panels.

  Even though they had no WA capabilities, news of Faso’s confinement would soon reach the civies. Good. It would make it easier for his men to discover those Faso’s mouth had turned against the mission.

  Commander Keyes cleared her throat and her dark eyes narrowed. Using only her fiber optic connection, she brought up images on the LCD in front of her. “The Ursa Minor is experiencing engine trouble.”

  Telemetry streamed down the screen next to dart-like ship plowing forward ten kilometers and twenty degrees starboard off the Starfarer’s stern. The three fins of her cylindrical hull glowed red against the white light of the wormhole’s interior. The Ursa Minor would soon lose steerage if she couldn’t find a means to dissipate the heat.

  Bei kept his expression blank, although he allowed a spurt of frustration to join his crews’ swamping the WA. Just for one day, he’d like to have no life or death emergencies. Eying the com screen, he strode to his chair. Restlessness filled him, making it impossible to sit down, so he stood and waited for his bridge crew to do their job.

  Despite nearly six decades of service, Captain Cassis Penig moved with ease and strength. He unplugged from the Starfarer’s telemetry station, stepped around the two young Syn-En soldiers, and jacked into the com system. He bumped in the Commander. “Is it major trouble or just minor?”

  A black curl escaped the bun at Commander Keyes’s nape and tumbled down her back. Humor lifted her lips for a moment before she sighed. “Their captain requests emergency docking under the safe haven protocol.”

  Captain Penig, the fleet’s second in command, ran his hand through the sprinkling of white hair fringing his age spotted head before tugging on the fiber optic cable connecting his cranial implant to the ship. “Ursa Minor reports total systems failure imminent.”

  Bei’s gut clenched. Of course it would be a life threatening emergency. Even nestled in the Starfarer’s mammoth wake and protected by her magnetic shields, the smaller ships endured more of the wormhole’s space-time riptides. They’d already lost twenty of their original eighty ships. Seventeen hundred people dead, but not in vain, the survivors would make it to Terra Dos. “Which docking bay has room?”

  Worry filling his green eyes, Captain Penig scuttled back to the telemetry station. “Bays one through seven are full. Eight through twelve can accommodate her.”

  Bei nodded. Clogged with salvaged wreckage, his men were trying to weld together into something space worthy. The project kept them busy during the long months as well as giving them a sense of control over their future. It was the only thing Bei could offer them, for now. “Bring the Ursa Minor into bay eight.”

  Captain Penig straightened his thin shoulders. Ignoring the glowing keyboard on the LCD panel, he relayed the instructions directly through his interface. “Bay Eight prepare for emergency docking, Orion class two ship. Bay Eight ready. Fire, rescue and medical crews en route.”

  Commander Keyes bracketed the Ursa Minor on her com panel with her tan hands as if to protect the ship. “Her fusion engines are running hot. Even with a boost, she doesn’t have enough thrust to close the gap.”

  Worry flickered over Captain Penig’s wrinkled features, but he set his jaw as he stared at the image of the failing ship. “She’ll make it.”

  Fear and doubt flooded the WA. Bei blasted the system with his calm determination, before taking everyone offline. No one needed a distraction.

  “Distance?” Bei yanked the finger-thick fiber optic cable from its channel along his spine. He plugged the nickel-titanium interface into the metal opening at the base of his skull before inserting the other end into the ort in his chair. The influx of information slammed into his brain in the image of files and video clips. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Bei called forth his avatar to sort the data into usable bytes. A digitalized version of himself popped up on the blue screen in his mind.

  Captain Penig’s jaw clenched. “Zero point four kilometers and holding.”

  “Ursa’s engines are nearing critical.” Commander Keyes twirled the end of her lock of black hair around and around her finger as her raw words festered in the empty space.

  If she blew, the Ursa Minor would take out the ships flying in tight formation around her. No more dead. Bei pleaded with the fates, God, some higher power while running his options through the mainframe, looking for anything to increase their odds. He’d have to close the gap, use the exhaust to slow his ship. “Vent plasma through the bow. Inform fleet.”

  The ensign at the navigation hub had his hands balled into fists as he fell back on his training and used only his fiber optic link to control the engines. “Aye, Admiral. Venting plasma through bow. Starfarer speed down zero point five. Zero point seven-five. One percent.”

  Captain Penig leaned closer to his monitor. The white and black image deepened the grooves of his face, aging him. “Wake ships decelerating. Distance between Ursa and Starfarer at zero point one kilometer.”

  Bei jerked as his avatar displayed his best option for rescuing the damaged ship. A forty percent chance the Ursa Minor would make it. He’d take it. Duty finished, the avatar nodded and dissolved.

  Commander Keyes’s fingertips bit into the com LCD. Her nails flashed white against her tan skin. “Plasma leak in Ursa’s port engine, Admiral. The Perseus is in her vent stream.”

  Penig nodded. “Perseus altering course and slowing.”

  Tapping his boot heel against the metal floor grates, the ensign
at the navigation hub barked, “Starfarer speed down five percent, Admiral.”

  “Maintain speed.” Tension bit into Bei’s shoulders. How many more ships wouldn’t make the rest of the six week journey? “Wardens, target Ursa Minor, use thrusters to bring her in range of grappling hooks. Authorization Omega-Alpha-Foxtrot.”

  “Wardens away. They got her, Admiral.” Commander Keyes’s white teeth flashed in her brown face as she grinned at the screen displaying the box-like barnacles clinging to the Ursa Minor’s hull. “Plasma contained. Her captain reports a hard fix.”

  Bei’s knees shook. Hard fix. Two Syn-Ens had sacrificed themselves to manually shove a plate of steel into the escaping plasma, buying their crew a precious tenth of a second.

  “Grappling hooks in place, Admiral. ETA of Ursa in Bay Eight in four, three, two, one.” Captain Penig’s weathered hands slapped the telemetry hub. “She’s in.”

  Sinking into his chair before his legs buckled, Bei breathed a sigh of relief. They had saved another ship and most of her crew. He opened the WA, basked in the jubilation for a moment as his avatar danced. Pings bounced off Bei’s interface, the Syn-En equivalent of a citizen’s high five. “Good job, everyone.”

  The news spilled into the Starfarer’s systems, lightening the tension.

  Captain Penig reached inside the slot beside the telemetry hub, swung down the narrow plank hidden there and gingerly lowered his body onto the utilitarian seat. He groaned and closed his eyes. Balls of light flowed from his interface under his white hair to the hub. “Updating course and destination arrival date with current speed and weight.”

  “Are you in a hurry to arrive at Terra Dos?” Smiling at his second-in-command’s eagerness, Bei noted the absence of one civilian tech from bridge. Using the WA, his avatar performed a diagnostic of the closed science hub. The digital man shook his head. Patched but not fixed. Such shoddy work was not acceptable.

  The captain stretched before crossing his arms over his thin chest. “Space travel has made me a little sick. It will be good to get on land and feel the air on my face.”

  Commander Keyes squatted next to the com hub and wrapped the lock of black hair around the bun at her nape. “Wardens have successfully returned to their dens, Admiral.”

  Bei nodded and unplugged from the ship. “Status on our engines.”

  The elevator door whispered open and Chief Engineer Sydney Shang’hai sauntered onto the deck. “They’re running hot. Some ham-handed ensign diverted the plasma in a rush instead of slowly.” Striding over to the ensigns at the navigation and weapons hubs, she placed a hand on both their shoulders. “Report to engineering.”

  Both young men jerked their fiber optic cables out of their respective hubs and jogged to the elevator.

  As the doors closed behind them, Engineer Shang’hai’s full red lips curved upward. “Poor kids. They had just completed tank maintenance when the call went out for volunteers to settle Terra Dos. Repairing the engines will reinforce the lecture they’re about to get.”

  “And they’ll learn from their mistakes.” Bei watched the remaining civie, still stretched out on the floor working on the tactical bay.

  Nodding, Shang’hai worked her fiber optics from her spiky pink hair then jacked into both vacated stations. “Even with my genius at work, the engines were never designed to do more than jump from Earth to Mars then back again. I’ll be glad to return to normal space.”

  After hanging the panel in place, the civie wiggled over to the science hub. His green eyes locked with the engineer’s brown ones.

  The sensors integrated in Bei’s armor picked up the civilian’s accelerated heart rate and the sudden shunting of blood to other pieces of the his anatomy. Had Shang’hai appeared on the command deck hoping for a little face time with the civie? Was Bei the only celibate person on his ship? He swallowed the bitterness.

  The first joint of the civilian’s fingertips peeled back to reveal an assortment of lasers, drivers and pliers. Shifting his lower body slightly, the civie removed the access panel near the floor and ducked his head inside.

  Bei pointed his index finger at the civie’s mechanical arm and read the identity chip embedded underneath the shiny alloy skin. Montgomery Smith. He’d turned to enhancements to pay his father’s gambling debts. Bei respected a man who gave up his own freedom so his mother and sister could keep their liberty. Still, the balance had been paid in full two years ago. The same time the civie had been assigned to engineering. Had the Chief Engineer’s Shang’hai’s considerable assets been enough to keep him, or was it something else? Something that would cause him to do the work of two men, while his comrade caused trouble?

  “Civilian Smith.” Pushing out of his chair, Bei walked the two strides to the civie’s feet.

  Smith sat up, banged his head and swore under his breath. Rubbing the red spot on his black forehead, he slid out of the bay’s guts. “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Where did your fellow civilian go?” Squatting next to the Smith’s splayed legs, Bei activated all his sensors, waiting to detect signs of deceit.

  Civilian Smith’s frown deepened the brackets around his mouth. “Tim said his plates were slipping and he wanted to go to the medical bay before the injured arrived. I offered to tune him up, but you know how newbies are. So used to doctors handling everything, they don’t think that a good mechanic is better than a biomedic any day.”

  Bei scratched the itch between his shoulder blades. Although Civilian Smith told the truth, neither of them believed the other tech’s story. What could the man be up to? “Find Civilian Tim and send him back here. Let him finish the repairs.”

  Accessing the medical logs via his WA, Bei noted the absence of anyone named Tim or Timothy. Where had the man gone? Bei woke up his avatar, handed him Tim’s photo and file to carry to security before pinging Chief Rome.

  Civilian Smith’s forehead wrinkled as he hid his tools behind his fingers. “I already finished the repairs, Admiral. Don’t know why Tim didn’t complete them before he left, but I could undo them again.”

  From the corner of his eye, Bei watched his men straighten. Had the missing man sabotaged his ship? Bei’s hands tightened into fists. “Find the civilian and send him to me.”

  The tech quickly replaced the panel and leapt to his feet. His gaze drifted to Shang’hai. Bei’s engineer had her eyes closed and her red lips clamped shut. With a sigh, the civie trudged toward the elevator. The doors opened at his approach. He entered, turned and stared at Shang’hai’s spiky pink head with hope in his eyes until the doors shut.

  Commander Keyes yanked her hair free of its bun and combed through her curly black tresses for another connection before jacking into the navigation system. “Admiral, the Perseus is drifting closer to the wall.”

  Despite being made of time and space, hitting the edge of the wormhole would be just like hitting cement only with less give. Neither the ship nor her crew would survive.

  The com LCD switched images. On screen, the Perseus’s saucer shape gleamed against the white glow of the wormhole. Plasma vented from the conical engines at the center of the radius. Bei considered yanking his own cable from his spine but decided against it. He would not micromanage his men. They were capable of handling a wayward ship as was her captain. “Does the Perseus know of the drift, or were the sensors damaged in the plasma spray?”

  “He knows.” Captain Penig closed his eyes to focus on his link. “But I’m sending him our telemetry and recommending a course correction of ten degrees starboard.”

  The com panel flashed black for an instant, then the Perseus’s captain’s haggard face appeared. The thin cables integrating his cranium interface with his ship glowed blue. Beard stubble sprayed across his tan skin, and bloodshot eyes hung heavy over his hooked nose. “Thanks for the data, Penig, but controls are not responding. That damn plasma stream fused the engines. I have a drift of one degree portside and not a hope in Hades of changing it.”

  Bei whipped out his inter
face. His hands shook as he connected with his ship. “Manual override?”

  The Perseus’s Captain shook his head and rubbed his nose. “Manual not responding. Evac underway. We’re slingshotting the Civies toward the Centari now. She’s in the best position to pick them up.”

  The com screen backed away from the ship’s captain’s face, revealing the Perseus’s damaged command deck. Sparks flew out of the navigation panel, igniting fires wherever they landed. Her ensign’s arms and legs flopped on the ground in front of the hub. A crewman yanked the connection free and scooped up the twitching figure.

  Another crewman aimed his fire extinguisher at the flames. “Temperature rising on decks three through eight. Fires close to main engineering and engines S1-5 failing.”

  “Get in the damn pod, Boston,” the Perseus’s captain snapped as he dropped to his seat. His legs trembled while power surged through his ship’s systems.

  Using the WA, Bei entered the Perseus’s systems. His avatar darted through the bridge computers looking for a means to regain control. A miracle would be easier to find. His avatar dug through bins of data. Come on, give me something.

  “All fleet ships shift portside,” Commander Keyes shouted though the emergency com while the Starfarer’s captain sent course corrections to the fleet.

  “Launch recovery shuttles.” Bei jerked as he felt the echo of the surges through the WA connection. God dammit. Not another one. Bei shut down the WA to all but himself. “Perseus cut your engines. We’ll tow you to Terra Dos.”

  Crimson trailed down the doomed ship’s captain’s pale cheeks. Electricity arced across his mouth. “Main engines are on fire, but the last of my men are away. Save them, Admiral, I’m taking the chariot to freedom.”

  Static blitzed Bei’s implants. His body jack-knifed as all sensors recorded the Perseus’s explosion and her captain’s death. Eyes open, Bei convulsed against the cushioned chair as his brain tried to reconcile the other Syn-En’s death with Bei’s own continued life.