Syn-En: Pillar World

by Linda Andrews

  Omest rested his forearm against her jamb.

  Her heart bumped in her chest and she struggled to breathe. The Picaroons weren’t vampires. Vampires didn’t exist. What about bloodsucking aliens? So not helpful. Why couldn’t that part of her brain just shut up?

  “Ahh, Nell Stafford, Leader of the Humans, I have something for you.” Omest’s green eyes glowed.

  Swallowing the wad of fear lodged in her throat, she set her free hand over her jugular. She hoped her superpowers protected her from a vampire’s glamour. “You have something for me?”

  He smiled, revealing two rows of long, pointy teeth.

  All the better to bite you with, my dear. Stop it. Stop it. Her fingers dug into the pouch.

  Fabric swished in the hallway. Richmond and Brooklyn strolled by.

  Nell’s early warning system worked just fine. She wasn’t alone. She exhaled slowly. She could handle this. She forced her free hand to her side.

  Omest’s slim fingers disappeared into his black, long sleeved shirt. “It is a tradition on my world to offer a gift to those bringing a new life into the world.”

  Life. Singular. Not everyone had understood the Amarook’s diagnosis of a tangy aftertaste.

  Bowing slightly, Omest presented a silver box. Stylized flowers decorated the outside. Sweeping script added prayers for health, happiness, and enough food during the recipient’s lifetime. “For you and your little one.”

  “It is quite a lovely box.” Her hand trembled when she raised it.

  He chuckled and smoothed his widow’s peak. “The box is a trinket, but the contents are the finest my people have to offer.”

  “That is very generous of you.” There was more, and she would have to accept it. They needed the allies. Even creepy, horror movie ones. Setting the shake on the nearest surface, she reached for the box. Thank God her hands were steady. The metal was warm, the embossing smooth. Holding up the box, she examined it. No hinge or clasp indicated how to open it.

  The air twinkled around her fingers.

  The top slid open.

  Maybe the fermites did respond to her wishes. That never ended well in the genie movies. Tilting the box, she peered inside. Silver filigree swirled around a scarlet heart. Gold thread stitched a smaller green heart to the larger one. Gossamer webs of both metals spun into a clasp and unraveled into a delicate chain. “It’s beautiful.”

  Omest nodded. “I chose the symbolism of Earth.”

  “Thank you.” Light twinkled deep in the red crystal. A moment later, a spark appeared in the tinier heart, then both began to beat. The smaller one picked up tempo.

  “Those are your heartbeats—yours and your child’s. We crafted the stones from discarded medical equipment, and were saving it for someone special.”

  Tears pricked her nose. That was so sweet. She almost forgot he was a bloodsucker. “I—”

  “Don’t refuse it.” He flashed his palm. Scars crisscrossed the callused surface. “Please.”

  “Don’t you want to give it to someone else? Your wife perhaps?” She stroked the green heart. So precious. At her touch, the two beats separated into distinct sparkles. She dropped her hand and wiped it on her leg.

  A frown tugged at one side of his mouth. “My wife has ascended from this plane.” His eyes shimmered and the red around them deepened. “But she was quite proud to hear of Humanity’s registration. For my people, the Iseans, and others like us, your and Beijing York’s place as leaders in this Alliance has given us hope beyond measure.”

  “How so?” Please don’t say the baby, or the Syn-En’s fighting ability. Nell closed the box. Power pulsed under her fingers.

  “The Founders stripped my world of almost every natural resource, then left my people to die. But the need for revenge burned deeply in our breast, and we survived. We registered.” Omest’s fists shook at his side.

  “My husband and his men aren’t tools of revenge.” Stepping back, she set the box on the desk and retrieved her shake.

  He stayed at the threshold. Not that she expected any different. He was a vampire; he had to be invited in.

  “Not revenge. Humans will give us something too long denied to us. Something we thought never to have. Justice.” His fists loosened. “This is a just war. And by helping Humans to win it, we will have earned a place of respect among the others. We will no longer be the garbage collectors of the universe.”

  “Garbage collectors?”

  “We scavenged Skaperian technology and adapted it to register. We haul away the refuse of many worlds, remake it. Many species have extra food. So much that they throw it away.” His gaze fastened on her pouch.

  Guilt tightened her stomach. God, this was worse than those commercials to feed a family of five for a dollar a day. Should she offer it to him or would it offend him because it wasn’t blood? “We call it recycling where I’m from.”

  He shook himself. “Most of the items we can reuse, but others have polluted our world, making it imperative that we continue our trade. But few wish to purchase from us because of the taint. So we must use middle-merchants, and take a lower price despite the higher risk.”

  “Are you asking me and other Humans to act as your middlemen, or do you wish to eliminate them all together?”

  His lips pulled back in a feral smile. “Eliminate the middle merchants.”

  Okay then. Not much to say to that. She shivered and picked up a brick of chocolate cake, then pulled a long draught from her shake.

  “If Humans were seen to trade with us, then perhaps the others would follow suit.” He set his chin on his steepled fingers.

  “You’ve already set a precedent by volunteering to bring the items no one else had. I’m certain we could make it known that the Alliance is trading openly with you.” She offered her him the cake. “How I was raised, it was rude to eat when others didn’t.”

  He sniffed the air near her hand then wrinkled his nose. “Plant-based food doesn’t appeal to my species, but you must indulge.”

  Right. Vampire. She’d almost forgotten. Her stomach growled. Setting aside the shake, she peeled back the plastic and bit the corner. Cloves, cinnamon, and vanilla flooded her tongue. Spice cake, the next best thing to chocolate.

  Omest chuckled and eased into the hallway. “Anything you need, ask the Picaroons first. We still maintain our contacts among… our middle merchants. This war has only increased their desire to do business with us.”

  The door shut, hiding him from sight.

  Finishing her meal, she rolled his words around in her head. There was something off in that last statement. Something… Her yawn chased away her musings. It couldn’t be too important. Chucking her trash into the bin, she crawled into bed and collapsed. Her eyes drifted closed and she dreamed of bats carrying her on a platter to feed the Founders.

  Chapter 12

  “Bring the coordinates up on the star map.” Bei clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the 3-D projection to materialize above the work table. Nell’s dreams played out in their private connection, confirming she remained aboard. The fusion reactors thrummed through the bulkheads. The cramped four-by-four meter room stank of lubricants, sweat, and ozone. But at least it was secure and isolated. He accessed the cameras in the hallway, checking for spies.

  Nothing.

  He would find the traitor who’d handed the Syn-En dead over to the enemy.

  But first, he wanted the desecrated bodies of his men back.

  “Aye, Admiral, bringing up the coordinates now.” Commander Havana Keyes wrapped the fiberoptic cable connecting her cerebral interface to the ship’s mainframe around her index finger. Blue light pulsed back and forth along the line, then a green beam erupted from the glass bubble in the center of the table. Yellow, red, and white balls appeared before falling dark. “Sorry, I’m having difficulty slowing my processors to adapt to this archaic technology.”

  “Archaic?” Ugu thumped her cane. The impact thudded hollowly in the room. “That technolo
gy is decades beyond anything the universe has seen.”

  And nearly a century behind the Syn-En’s ability. Do your best, Keyes. Bei nodded to his communication officer.

  Breaking the Founders’ encryption had taken fifteen minutes longer than he’d expected.

  Every extra second shone on Keyes’s face. Frustration tightened the skin around her eyes and thinned her lips. Her curls were pulled back in a tight bun away from her oval face. “Bringing systems back online now.”

  A cube of three-dimensional space hovered over the table.

  Sitting next to Ugu, Apollie rested her elbows on the surface and leaned forward. Her pale finger poked through a yellow star. “Where are we in this display?”

  Keyes closed her black eyes. “I’m merging everything now.”

  Don’t start without me. Security Chief Rome jogged down the corridor dodging the civilian Human and Skaperian crew. A moment later, the door chirped.

  Bei authorized it to open. “Perfect timing.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Rome saluted with two fingers then glanced at his wife. Charlie is with PopPop Pennig. He sent an image of his six-month-old son drooling on the Executive Officer’s shoulders. Syn-En and Skaperians cooed at the baby on the bridge. One of Elvis’s pups growled and snapped at the boots of all who touched the child.

  Bei knew the infant wouldn’t distract his men, but couldn’t speak for the featherheads. He glanced at Ugu. The Skaperian leader probably wouldn’t approve of children on the bridge. He smiled.

  Keyes released the cable and stepped back from the projection. A green jagged line led from outside the display cube to smack dab in its center. “It’s not pretty, but it gets the job done.”

  “It’s very nice.” Apollie squinted at the stars. “I do not recognize any of the solar systems. Can you display their names?”

  Moving behind Keyes, Rome swept his hand across his wife’s bottom. “We didn’t find any identifiers on your charts.”

  Her avatar shook her finger at him in cyberspace.

  Bei suppressed a spike of jealousy. He would be with Nell as soon as he finished here.

  “Not a single identifier?” Ugu folded her arms and leaned back in her metal seat. “How can that be?”

  Apollie stood and surveyed the projection from another direction. “It could be Founders’ territory. We don’t have maps for deep in their protected space.”

  The Skaperians didn’t have maps for most of the galaxy beyond their territories. Bei gritted his teeth. And their intel for the area was nonexistent. His men would be going in blind.

  Rome pinged him. We’ve sacrificed more for the greater good.

  I’m tired of sacrificing. Bei rested his knuckles on the tabletop. This was the Alliance’s opportunity to gain the upper hand. Now, it looked like it would be taken away just as he reached for it. They needed a victory dammit. “Back out the map.”

  Keyes set her hands on both sides of the cube then slowly brought them together. The stars shrunk while the area beyond her grasp repopulated. The course the tracker had taken elongated then ended at a jagged edged orange mass. She flicked it. “This is where we destroyed the convoy.”

  Names appeared near star systems. A ghost ship materialized at the edge of space, displaying the Nell Stafford where she’d been nearly two hours ago. Her sleek hull curved and dipped in all the right places, hiding her armaments except for the projectile turrets forward and aft.

  “So, the base isn’t located in Founders’ space.” Apollie stroked her stomach.

  “What do we know of the area?” Bei eyed the Skaperian leader.

  Keyes released her hold and the image sprang back to full size.

  Ugu’s finger strummed the crystal knob at the top of her cane. Her aquamarine eyes glittered. “It was Founders’ territory at one time. But has been a dead zone long before the Skaperians declared their sentience.” She stabbed a gnarled finger at a red dwarf sun then the ice planets orbiting it beyond the habitable zone. “During the previous war, we would use the jump gates to meet with our suppliers to load provisions, fuel, and ammunition.”

  Bei rubbed his hands together. Finally, they had a break.

  “I picked up energy readings. They’re not of natural origin.” Keyes swirled her finger over, under, and to the left and right of the red dwarf. “Are these jump gates?”

  Ugu pursed her lips. “Possibly. It was a long time ago.”

  Time meant nothing to data crystals. And there was an entire room on this ship devoted to their storage. The Skaperian library just needed to be uploaded to the Combat Information Center. Bei ordered London and Ecuador to begin the process. The Syn-En CIC could handle the data and more, but time was at a premium. “Where are the records stored?”

  “Nothing was official. Logs were erased or omitted. We weren’t supposed to do business there.” Ugu sagged in her chair. Age lined her face with crooked paths of death and violence. “The Empress wasn’t to know that we needed help to win the war. No one knew. And we intended to keep it that way.”

  Bei rubbed his neck. His cerebral interface begged him for intel. Every implant and sensor in his body had been designed for war. Too bad the information hadn’t kept up with his upgrades. It almost made him wish for more Syn-Ens to induct. Almost. There was another way. A costly one, in terms of life and upgrades. “Rome, give me options.”

  “Zoom in.” The Security Chief directed his wife. “Since the Founders activated the tracker before they left the planet, we do have some information.”

  Keyes pinched the corners of the cube and pulled it apart. It stretched like taffy before settling in the heart of dark space. She marked two places with a green question mark. “These four are active gates, but these two residuals might be disused access points. Since we don’t need a gate, we could jump behind one of these and use them to mask our energy signal.”

  Ugu tucked her white feathers behind her ear. “I don’t think we should risk the Nell Stafford.”

  “Agreed.” Bei called up the status reports on the ships currently under construction. Nothing new would be ready for another three months, but several vessels had already been retrofitted. He cast the saucer-shaped craft on the display. “We have three choices.”

  “Plenipotan craft.” Apollie’s nostrils flared. “I do not trust the administrators. I believe they will hail you again during mission critical.”

  Rome rubbed his chin while his avatar ran his hand over the status report files. “And they’re already flapping their elephantine ears at losing one of their precious ships.” He selected two lime green files and replaced the Plenipotan’s ships with the contents. A spherical craft appeared next to the Syn-Ens’ beetle-shaped Starflight. “We could make do with these ones.”

  Ugu punched the rubber bottom of her cane through the Starflight. The enemy will have the weapon’s signature of your shuttle. And the cloaking skin hasn’t been applied to the Orizo’s vessel. You would be visible to the Founders’ sensors.”

  Bei swore under his breath. “Do we have any idea of planetary defenses?”

  Keyes’s eyes darkened to pitch. “If there are, their energy signature has melded with the background radiation.”

  Zero in on the planet. Rome dug his fists into his hips. The green path ended at the center of an icy world. “There has to be defenses. And I’m betting an underground base.”

  “Complete with booby traps.” If they mirrored the ones on the research facility on Surlat, Bei knew his men could deal with them.

  Ugu squinted at the environmental data near the snowball world. “One hundred-fifty degrees Kelvin. You better make certain the insertion team is not on the planet’s surface for long.”

  Rome squared his shoulders. “Syn-En can withstand twelve degrees Kelvin for three hours.”

  “Skaperians cannot.” Apollie’s mouth twisted as if she tasted something vile. “We hope to increase our tolerance once the NDA armor is finished.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Ugu waved away her subord
inate’s complaint. “What is this word, here?”

  Keyes enlarged the Human translation. “Sentinel.” She repeated the word in both the Founders’ and Skaperian’s language. “I don’t know what it means but the word was repeated often in the passcodes embedded in the tracker.”

  Bei grinned. “We have passcodes?”

  Rome rocked back on his heels. “They’re only good for another six hours.”

  “Damn.” Bei scraped a hand down his face. Just when he thought this mission wouldn’t be a clusterfuck. It would take four hours just to pilot the ships to their current location. Add in the time between the jump gates and travel to their target, the window was shot.

  Ugu grinned. Her backward joints popped and creaked as she rose. “If this is Sentinel then there is more than just your men’s remains to be retrieved. I may also have a way in that won’t raise any alarms, if you’ll permit another race to join us.”

  Lightning bolts sparked around Rome’s avatar. Oh, hell no. We don’t know who we can trust.

  It would be a way to rule someone in or out. Bei rolled the tension from his shoulders. “Who?”

  “Omest, leader of the Picaroons.” Ugu’s gnarled fingers tapped on the keyboard resting on the projection table.

  A pale, gaunt humanoid stared back at them with emerald eyes. Slicked back hair molded to his oval head, and pointy incisors were barely visible between his parted lips.

  Nell Stafford’s vampire? Rome’s avatar shook his head.

  He’s not bad looking. Keyes handed them information regarding the ETs and this one in particular.

  Rome glared at his wife.

  She winked at him. But he’s not you, dear.

  Bei glanced at his communications officer. She sounded exactly like Nell. Had she been taking lessons? He scanned the folders. Nothing caused his skin to crawl. But the ET would be watched, carefully. “Do you trust Omest?”

  “I knew his grandfather.” Ugu tapped in a few more keys. An older version of the Picaroon appeared next to Omest. “He kept the ship that I served on fully stocked.” A soft smile played with the old woman’s lips. “He was quite charming. I’m glad to see he led a full life.”