Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins Page 9

  Holding their Lassiters with one hand, the medical corp activated the diagnostic beams in their wrists and swept the area. Two security guards scrambled up the nearest hill. One jogged down to the river.

  Facing her husband, Nell glanced toward the water’s edge. “What about the probe you sent? Does it show life signs?”

  Bei flinched. “The probe exploded.”

  “Are you alright?” She latched onto his arm. Her skin tingled; his sleeve glittered.

  “What did you do?” His eyes widened.

  She yanked her hand back. “Nothing. I… Why?”

  “The residual from the explosion is gone, like it never was.” He leaned closer. “It usually takes a day or two for the throbbing to fade when we’re connected to a piece of equipment that is taken out.”

  Doc slipped inside the circle of Syn-En. “It is possible that Nell Stafford can control the fermites the same way she manipulates the NDA.”

  Collapsing the handle of her scythe, Apollie joined their conversation. The beads on her braids clicked together. “She was infected with them before NDA was invented.”

  “Admiral.” Ensign Richmond vigilantly scanned the area, weapon at the ready. “The medics.”

  Eleven women and nine men stood in a double row. A woman with flaxen hair and green eyes stepped from the group. “We report no animal or insect life signs, Admiral. The area is also clear of microbial life.”

  “That’s not possible.” Nell shifted as all eyes turned to her. “According to the Discovery Channel, we need microbes to live.”

  Confusion melted from the medic’s face. “That is in keeping with what we believe, but we have run diagnostics twice on our systems. And each of us have reproduced the others results. This should be a dead world.”

  Nell glanced around. The field could be anywhere in middle-America, back when the Midwest existed.

  “Admiral.” The security Syn-En near the river shouted. “There are fish in the river.” The red-haired cyborg knelt in the crabgrass and pulled up a handful of mud. “Crustaceans too.”

  Doc and two medics hustled over. Green light shimmered next to the golden sun rays.

  Kneeling on the bent stalks, Apollie sifted dirt through her pale fingers. “Perhaps, the Founders method of sterilizing a planet works after all.”

  Nell blinked. “Then there are no humans down here for us to rescue?”

  “We have only the Scraptor’s word that there were three thousand humans.” Bei’s gaze locked with Apollie’s. “It could be a trap.”

  Apollie snorted. “Not a very good one. The Neo-Sentient Alliance knows we are here.”

  Bei shrugged. “And if we are massacred, then the NSA will have no choice but to sue for war.”

  “Or reparations.” Nell shifted closer to her husband. He would keep her safe. “The NSA is not ready for war.”

  Tossing aside her handful of dirt, Apollie stood and wiped her hand on her green Emp Shield uniform trousers. “I would wager the twenty-six of us could take on a battalion of Scraptors.”

  Nell mentally did the math and groaned. She was not a warrior, nor had she ever played one in a TV commercial. Her fingernails stretched into daggers. Okay, so she wasn’t completely helpless.

  Scratching his goatee, Doc loped back. “The fish eat some odd kind of plankton. It isn’t self-reproducing.”

  “What do the crustaceans eat?” She eyed the two medics wading into the river.

  “Fish poop.” Doc’s black eyes glinted with humor. “Want me to send you the documentary file?”

  “I’ll pass.” Nell shuddered. Had someone really made a movie about fish bowel movements? Probably, and she didn’t doubt her tax dollars had paid for it. “This is a little surreal.”

  “This should not be.” Bei set his hands on his hips.

  “We need to take up defensive positions.” Apollie reached inside her red-speckled breastplate for an etablet. “Since the Founders lured us to the planet under false pretenses, then we need to prepare for an attack.”

  Bei shifted so Nell stood between him and Apollie. “We can hold them off for thirty-six hours until the NSA ship America arrives.”

  Nell sighed. Their rescue depended upon a giant space luxury liner that moved with all the grace and speed of a pregnant leviathan. Running would be out of the question.

  Apollie pursed her lips. “The America hasn’t been fitted with weapons. She’s solely a transport vessel. Moving refugees between NSA recognized worlds.”

  “She has some weapons, and nearly sixty Syn-En.” Bei stared at his two Starflights.

  “Sixty.” Apollie fingered her scythe. “Then I hope the Scraptors send two battalions, or the fight won’t be even interesting.”

  Palming her face, Nell hung her head. What was wrong with the universe? Fighting should be a last resort, not an anticipated event.

  “Ensign,” Cracking his knuckles, Bei glanced at Richmond. “If our diagnostics return all systems normal, I want those birds in the air in five minutes. Standard grid flybys. I want every potential dirtside base identified. Once that’s done, I want you to switch to stealth mode on the dark-side of the planet and reconnoiter space. Find out how many guests the Scraptors invited to their wake.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Snapping off a salute, Richmond hustled to the shuttle she’d piloted down. Halfway there, she paused. “Portland?”

  The red-haired Syn-En tossed the two-foot long fish in his hands back into the river. “Roger that. I’ll take Starflight 1.”

  Medics swarmed the crew compartments of the shuttles. They slung packs on their backs and carried rounds of ammunition in hard-sided boxes. Apollie helped herself to two missile launchers.

  The com on Bei’s collar buzzed.

  “Admiral, you need to see this.” The Syn-En security officer on the hill pointed south.

  “Shit.” Cupping Nell’s elbow, Bei shouldered through the cornfield, dragging her behind him.

  She batted aside the razor-sharp leaves. “What? What is it?”

  “Apollie,” Bei called over his shoulder. “I think we’ll need your expertise.”

  The corn stalks bowed and scraped as the shuttles engines powered up. A soft hum rippled through the golden sunshine. The aft ramp clattered as it sealed shut.

  “Course laid in, Admiral.” Richmond’s voice whispered through Bei’s com. “I’ll send all information to the CIC.”

  “Roger that. Mission is a go.” Bei shoved through the last stand and leapt an irrigation ditch. He held out his hand to Nell.

  Pain burned up her thigh as she jumped across. Her boots sunk into mud when she joined him on the other side.

  He towed her up the hill.

  Grass slapped her ankles. Gnats swarmed her. “If there’s a pyramid over this hill, I’ll take back everything I ever said about the alien conspiracists.”

  Actually, she probably should anyway. According to Apollie, aliens had been diddling in human affairs since whenever people came into being.

  A shadow raced up the hill as the shuttles climbed in altitude. Wind rustled the crop behind them. She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the top.

  The medical corps swarmed the base of the hill.

  Apollie and Doc charged ahead.

  Bei sucked in a breath. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  Nell faced front.

  A mammoth black obelisk rose from the plains behind a thick patch of trees. It towered over the hills and soared twice as high as the mountain range in the distance.

  Holy shit. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “No. I would have remembered, if I had.”

  Apollie huffed to a stop next to Nell. Cases thudded to the grass. “That is an Erwarian pillar.”

  Bei snapped his attention to the Skaperian. “Are you certain the Founders didn’t replicate it?”

  “No one knows what it is made of. Outside of the Founders, no one has ever seen one.” Apollie held her hands in supplication. “But I can feel its power.”


  The hair on Nell’s arms stood up. The corn field rustled behind her. Turning, she watched the stalks unbend and stand tall once again. Okay, that was freaky even to the Queen of the Freaks. “Um, Bei.”

  “Admiral.” Richmond’s voice crackled over Bei’s com. “I’ve lost rudder control.”

  Portland joined in. “Same here. Dammit, the diags are coming back clean.”

  The shuttles circled a grassy field near the base of the next hill.

  Bei waited a heartbeat. “Reset controls.”

  “Helm not responding.” Richmond cried as Starflight 2 drifted lazily toward the ground.

  “CIC is forbidding me access.” Portland’s voice drowned in the static. Starflight 1 joined its twin on the grass.

  Bei swore softly. “Obviously, the Scraptors don’t want us to leave.”

  Nell jerked on their clasped hands. “I don’t think it’s the Scraptors. Look at the field.”

  As one, the Syn-En obeyed.

  Doc sprayed the field with his diag light. “It’s as if we were never there.”

  She licked her lips. An idea crawled out of her brain box. It was ridiculous. Crazy even. But it explained so much. “What if the fermites aren’t weapons?”

  Bei cocked a black eyebrow. “They certainly aren’t friendly.”

  “They didn’t kill us. They could have, but didn’t. What if the fermites form the basis of life on this planet? Like insects and things do on Earth?”

  “What life?” Apollie snorted. “We’ve seen nothing but fish and crustaceans. The Founders only create things for three reasons—profit, comfort, and conquest. None of those things apply here.”

  Nell refused to allow a perfectly good theory to be crushed by logic. “What about the Erwar? They left their pillar thingie; they could have left the fermites.”

  Apollie crossed her arms. The jewels on her vambraces sparkled in the sunlight. “The Erwar were energy beings. What need did they have for a physical world?”

  Bei set his hands on Nell’s shoulders. “The Erwar might not have needed a physical world, but Humans do.” He turned her about. “There by the tree line. We’re about to have visitors. Human visitors.”

  Shading her eyes against the sun, Nell squinted. Her stomach cramped and her muscles tensed. Where were they? Where were they? Motion near a gap between two trees snagged her attention.

  A dark head emerged from the shadows. Broad shoulders covered in yellow cloth followed.

  Apollie sighed loudly. “They look primitive.”

  Nell grinned. “They’re obviously quite evolved. Everyone knows primitive Humans wore animal skin bikinis and loincloths.” She darted forward. “Come on. Let’s ask them to take us to their leader.”

  Chapter 11

  Unspoken words formed a log-jam in Nell’s throat. Rising on tiptoes, she glanced over her husband’s shoulder.

  A handful of natives followed a gravel path down the hill toward them. Green corn swayed in the fields on either side. A light mist made the leaves sparkle like emeralds and subdued the sunshine with strokes of gray.

  Behind her, the rear ramps of the shuttles ground to a close. Four Syn-En and one Skaperian fanned out in front of her. The snub-nosed barrels of their Lassiter rifles stared with black eyes at the sky. Apollie’s beads clacked together in the stillness. Tension thickened the air worse than the humidity.

  A trickle of sweat snaked down Nell’s forehead. Swiping at it, she shifted to the side.

  “Stay behind me,” Bei growled.

  She hated when he knew what she did without even looking. “What is taking them so long? They’ve been coming down that hill for hours.”

  The man in the lead wore blue cotton trousers and a vest of bright red. A Gandalf beard squirmed over his muscular chest. Shells tinkled against the crooked, bone-white staff in his hands.

  Two young couples skipped behind him. Blood red trousers and blouses shimmered around the women. Indigo blue vests and knee-length shorts revealed nappy hair on the men’s legs and chest.

  “They appeared on that hill not more than five minutes ago.” Bei pinged her brain box.

  “Yeah, well, it seems like forever.” Serotonin filled her limbs with warmth but her mouth dried from the dose.

  “They should be cautious.” Standing on Bei’s right, Doc rolled his shoulders. The green diagnostic beam in his wrist flashed on and off before he clasped his hands behind his back. “They may never have seen a stranger.”

  “Yeah, well, that may be a good thing, considering what some people on the other worlds have been told.” Nell sidled to the left.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Apollie narrowed her red eyes. “You agreed to stay behind the admiral for your protection.”

  Nell hated those three words. If her husband and the Syn-En had their way, she’d be tucked safely away on a distant world—for her protection. “I can bounce bullets off my skin. I don’t think the leader’s staff will hurt me.”

  Not that she wanted to be beaten with a stick. Although between that and bullets, she’d take the stick. Her arms tingled. Glancing down, she saw watery sunshine wink off her fingertips. Dang it. Now was not the time to flash her inner metal.

  Bei pinged her brain box again. “Did you download the basic self-defense program?”

  She slapped her hand over the back of her skull. “I can feel you rooting around inside my head, so you know I did.” Not that she wanted to use it. Activating the program meant the real Nell Stafford stood on the sidelines while she unleashed her inner Jackie Chan. “What if these people don’t speak any of the languages in your repertoire?”

  “There are a million languages and dialects. I don’t think Humans would have invented a new one in a hundred years.” Apollie snorted. Sarcasm didn’t look good on the Skaperian.

  Medic Brooklyn and Security officer Richmond bookended Bei, Doc, and Apollie.

  On the side next to Doc, Richmond ducked her head. The teenage soldier’s hair formed a ponytail down her back, alongside her rifle. “If they do not speak any of the languages, then they won’t believe we are cannibals, or monsters, or baby thieves like some of the others. And they will accompany us peacefully.”

  “Silence.” Bei pinged Nell one last time.

  Instead of a flood of hormones, she sensed her husband’s presence in her mind. It caressed her thoughts before withdrawing, leaving her with a calming memory.

  The Syn-En assumed identical positions—arms loosely at their sides, knees slightly bent, and weapons at their backs. Apollie’s raptor claw retracted into her toe.

  Nell shook the traces of silver from her fingers. This was a peaceful rescue mission. No reason for anyone to get hurt.

  Except that people had been injured on other worlds. The Decripi had caused the refugees to stampede on Zeta-99. Fear had driven other people to jump to their deaths while holding their children on Omega-alpha-532. A hail of rocks and stones had greeted them on Silas, Leddon, and Roba. Too many had lived with their masters for so long, that hope had become synonymous with anger and fear.

  And the Syn-En had been their targets.

  Nell hooked her index finger through her husband’s waistband.

  He ghosted across her mind, but otherwise didn’t move.

  The white-bearded leader marched into the valley. His brown eyes widened as they skimmed the Starflights. When his attention shifted back to them, he lingered on Apollie then moved on. He smiled, revealing white teeth that had been ground down to nubs.

  The young couples with him, fanned out on either side. They, too, smiled. Their brown eyes crinkled as they bounced along the line.

  Nell counted seconds until she reached a minute. Then two minutes. Really, they were going to stand here and smile at each other all day. She jerked on Bei’s waistband.

  He pinged her, hard. “Hello.”

  His voice was soft, soothingly modulated, a snake charmer’s tone that betrayed none of his annoyance at her.

  She didn’t care, just so long as it accompl
ished their mission.

  Muscle rippled along his back. He raised one arm and flattened his palm against his chest. “My name is Beijing York.”

  The leader tilted his head to the side and blinked.

  Bei repeated his message in the Founders’ languages. One after the other until all five were spoken.

  The leader stroked his white beard and glanced at his companions. The men’s brows furrowed. The women shrugged. None of them said a word.

  Nell blew her bangs out of her eyes. It could take hours to find their native tongue if they didn’t start talking.

  Sweeping his arm toward the sky, Bei pointed south. “We are from Earth, the birth place of all Humans.”

  In unison, the five refugees glanced at the sky. The leader held out his hand, palm up, and caught a raindrop. The others stared at it as if they’d never seen it before.

  Water sprinkled Nell’s head, then pelted her hair. Great, it was starting to rain in earnest. She slipped between Doc and Bei and pointed to her mouth. “Do you speak? Any language? Any at all?”

  White-beard craned his neck. Water dripped off his aquiline nose and roped his beard.

  “Don’t be afraid. We can speak many languages.” She enunciated each word, stressed each syllables.

  The dark-haired girl on the right tapped the old man’s bicep. She pointed at Nell then her open mouth and moved her fingers in a shoveling motion.

  White-beard’s caterpillar eyebrows crawled up his forehead. He mimicked the shoveling motion.

  Bei’s shoulders shook and he chuckled. Doc snorted and Richmond giggled.

  “It’s not funny.” Nell poked her husband’s chest. “They think I’m hungry.”

  Soon, the pantomime rippled through all five members. The women turned away first and headed back the way they came. The young men followed.

  White-beard beckoned Nell and the Syn-En with a wave of his hand then trudged behind the two young couples.

  Nell hid her face in her palms. “We have to tell them that I’m not hungry.”

  The hair on the back of her neck stirred. Bei had opened the WA again. Brooklyn and Apollie turned to follow.

  “We will allow them to take us to their camp. There we should meet someone capable of speaking.” Bei cupped her elbow and guided Nell behind the two soldiers taking point.