Syn-En: Pillar World

by Linda Andrews

  “The Meek didn’t say you couldn’t have asked the women to agree to any changes you would have made.” His beautiful, impulsive wife had just leapt to the conclusion. “You know, if there’s a way, I will win this war.”

  A tear raced down her cheek. She brushed it away. “I know.”

  He also knew what he must do if they lost it. Filling his lungs, he leaned back. “Let’s see where we are.”

  Nodding, she accepted the change of subject. “Do you think we should wake them?”

  Using his authorization codes, he tapped into his crew’s cerebral interfaces. All were recovering from critical failures. Had the Meek rescued them after they’d already stood in line for the chariot? His circuits sputtered. If he couldn’t have them as allies, he hoped Christopher had been speaking in anger when he threatened to side with the Scraptors.

  The fermite/Meek and Scraptor combination would be unbeatable.

  “Do you think that I would have been able to ask if a woman wanted to carry a Meek baby?”

  Bei attempted to access the CIC. Static and emptiness. He ran a diagnostic on his systems to discover the conflict. “I don’t think you need to ask their permission. I think you could have just worked out a system that fit your beliefs.”

  “It doesn’t fit my beliefs that I could change a baby before it’s born into something other than it was intended to be.”

  “How do you know that it wasn’t intended to be Meek?” His systems were operating normally. So why had his access been blocked? Facing the helm, he scanned the buttons, toggle switches, and gumdrop lights. A black dot appeared at the end of the wormhole. If the Picaroon pilot didn’t wake soon, Bei would have to man an unfamiliar ship and controls.

  “Of course, it wouldn’t be intended. I would have created something different than a Human. I wanted superpowers; not to play God.”

  “Our child already houses one of them.” Or two. But the Meek had clearly stated just one of them had gone missing. “That was a natural evolution from what it took you to survive.”

  “If what they said is true.” Nell sniffled. “How do I know they didn’t monkey with my egg basket like the Skaperians did?”

  “Our children are Human.” Bei overlaid what he knew of the Skaperian manual systems onto the helm. Navigation. Engines. Auxiliary systems. This didn’t seem too complicated. “Doc confirmed it. Or do you think he’s siding with the Meek?”

  “Of course not!”

  Bei caught his wife’s reflection in the screen’s glass. “Will you get rid of them?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” Her toes curled over the edge of her seat. “I’ll protect them until…”

  “The end.” Just as he would her. “I recommend we don’t mention our encounter with anyone.”

  The Syn-En wouldn’t understand her inability to act for the common good, and Bei didn’t want anyone distracted from their ultimate goal. And he couldn’t find the recording he’d made. He had no proof.

  “Alright.” Releasing her legs, she stepped into her boots. “Looks like we’re almost at the jump gate.”

  The black dot grew at the center of the white and gray wormhole.

  Bei flicked a toggle switch. The com chimed. “This is Admiral York to the Nell Stafford. Our ETA is ten minutes.”

  “Bei?” Rome snapped in the com. “Is that you?”

  Bei glared at the com. Such a stupid question must be the result of inferior technology. “Given that you didn’t name your son after me, I don’t think there’s another Beijing York in the galaxy.”

  Nell chuckled.

  “Send your authorization codes.” Ugu snarled through the line. “It could be a trap.”

  The hair on Bei’s arms stood on end. An energy surge trickled through his body and the door to the WA opened. The room dimmed as Bei stepped into cyberspace.

  Rome’s avatar waited on the other side, a Torp in both hands.

  Bei lobbed his authorization codes at his Security Chief, then spoke the official set. “York-delta-delta-omega-nine. What the hell is going on?”

  Holstering one weapon, Rome opened the codes and inserted them in the authentication slot in cyberspace. “You’ve been missing for three days.”

  Nell gasped. “Three days?”

  “There are rumors you’d all been destroyed leaving Sentinel.” Rome sent a question mark attached to a picture of his wife.

  “Everyone is recovering.” Bei concealed his thoughts. He needed an excuse for the time delay. One that approached the truth. “We took some hits. Our men shut down to conserve oxygen. We made it to an asteroid and landed while Nell repaired the ship with her fermites.”

  There were so many holes in that story it didn’t bear thinking about.

  “You could have sent word.” Rome threw a lightning bolt at Bei. You have my wife onboard.

  The bolt scorched cyberspace near his pixelated boots. Who spread the rumors of our demise, when so few knew we had left? “Our communications were offline.”

  I’ve narrowed it to less than a hundred people. All came into contact with Omest before he left. Rome handed him a gift-wrapped box with the information. “How did you know where we’d relocated to?”

  Well, damn. Bei didn’t know how to explain that one.

  Nell flashed him a fermite compass.

  No one would believe it. Bei decided on an answer that wouldn’t short his logic circuits. “I thought I’d check the fallback positions, after the ship wasn’t at the rendezvous coordinates.”

  In cyberspace, Rome set Bei’s pants on fire. I’ll get the truth from you sooner or later, but for now, we have more important issues.

  Omest, the Picaroon, blinked and stretched in the pilot’s chair.

  One by one, Bei’s crew materialized in cyberspace. Keyes’s avatar ran to her husband, threw her arms around him, and kissed him.

  Ugu’s face appeared on the forward viewers. “Hurry back. Geunoc reports that a large Scraptor fleet has been amassing one solar system away from Plenipota. He thinks the Founders plan to attack his world and steal the Titanium.”

  Rome appeared next to her. “It looks like they’re throwing everything at us, including some new ships that we’ve never seen. It’s going to be a hell of a battle. A very big, big battle.”

  Bei just hoped it wasn’t the Alliance’s last.

  Chapter 22

  “Thank you, Nell Stafford.” Mumbai’s white teeth flashed against his cinnamon skin, and his black eyes twinkled as he brushed his fingers across Nell’s stomach. “These little ones give us hope, but you have saved our lives.”

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done.” Guilt was a bitch. Nell squirmed as if a thousand ants crawled over her skin. She blew her bangs out of her eyes but kept her stare over the Syn-En’s shoulders.

  Shouts echoed in the landing bay. Pyramids of missiles were unloaded from boxy cargo ships. Syn-En swarmed the beetle-shaped Starflights adding tons of projectile weapons to the turrets and aligning the crystals in the energy cannons. Civilians in black drove a convoy of torpedoes across the deck. Elevators moved the munitions from the bay floor to the docking stations along the Nell Stafford’s hull.

  Missing was the jocularity. Grim-faced Humans stocked the ships. Skaperian EmpShields, with their feathers braided in cornrows, gave dozens of Picaroons lessons on hand-to-hand combat. Plenipotans and Iseans practiced targeting on the oval simulators tucked into the far corners.

  Twenty species practiced triage on animated dummies, designed to mimic the species in the Alliance.

  Everyone was preparing for battle.

  A big battle for which the Syn-En and Alliance weren’t quite prepared.

  A battle she might have averted, if she’d accepted the Meek’s proposal. She had made the right decision, hadn’t she?

  Exiting the shuttle, Shang’hai stopped in front of Nell. Her pink dreadlocks were bound in a single ponytail at her ebony nape. “I was wrong. We did need you on the mission.” She swallowed hard before squaring her shou
lders. “I know it is much to ask after you saved our lives, but if you would still speak with Monty, I would appreciate it.”

  Monty? The name surfed aimlessly through Nell’s thoughts until it connected with Mechanic Montgomery Smith, Shang’hai’s lover. Nell smiled. Thank God her offer would take her away from the Syn-Ens and their gratitude. For a moment there, she’d almost wished Bei had told them of the deal offered and refused. Their gratitude already made her doubt her decision.

  “I’d be happy to speak with Smith.” Nell eyed the corridor into the lounge where her husband consulted with the Syn-En crew. She couldn’t take five more thank-yous without screaming. “In fact, I think I’ll go do that right now.”

  Shang’hai threw her arms around Nell and squeezed her lightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  After patting the woman’s shoulders, Nell ducked out of her embrace. “Please, don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything.”

  Really. She hadn’t.

  Shang’hai opened her mouth to disagree.

  Nell jogged down the aisle and leapt off the ramp onto the deck.

  Aliens and Humans alike called to her as she ran past.

  She hated that their faces brightened at the sight of her. She hated the hope that erased their fears. She was just a woman. One really, really old woman with a yellow streak that chose a bad time to appear on her back.

  Nell?

  I just need time alone, Bei. There’s no chance of me disappearing again. The Meek asked their question. Nell slammed the door on their wireless connection before he could respond. She needed to find a place, preferably surrounded by lots of other people who didn’t know her. Keeping busy would distract her. But first she needed to find Mechanic Smith.

  Turning out of the hangar bay, she sprinted down the short corridor leading to the elevator.

  Without breaking their conversations, crewmen grinned at her as she passed.

  She slapped on an answering smile. Her cheeks hurt from the pain of wearing it. Moisture dried from her teeth. Maybe her mother was right, and her face would stay this way forever. Drawing up short, she stabbed the elevator call button.

  A second past. Then five.

  Her leg bounced with impatience. The elevator didn’t usually take so long.

  At seven seconds, the bell chimed and the doors slid open. No one hustled out carrying supplies.

  Stepping inside, she jabbed the door close button.

  Bei had left the docking bay, heading toward her.

  She leaned on the button. Finally, the doors closed, shutting him out. She punched Mechanic Smith’s floor, then swept her finger over the others. If her husband wanted to find her, he could, but he’d have to wait until the lift made all those stops before getting access to the elevator. Childish, maybe, but he’d crawled inside her head and made her think she might have overreacted.

  The lift coasted to a stop. The button on the call panel blinked off and the doors slid open.

  Humans filled the corridor. In groups of twenty or so, they circled a biologic and Syn-En standing on mats.

  Richmond stood at the center of the nearest group. She demonstrated with a pointed stick how to block an opponent’s strike. Her brown eyes widened when she spied Nell. “Take over for me.”

  She tossed the rod to Brooklyn then squeezed through the onlookers.

  Nell swallowed despite her dry throat. “What’s going on?”

  Richmond’s ponytail slapped her shoulders. “It’s the most amazing thing. The biologics want to be like us.” She thumped her chest. “They actually are proud to have the Syn-En as part of the Human family.”

  “You’re teaching them to fight. Won’t that make them believe that the Syn-En can’t protect them?” Nell chaffed her arms and threaded through the groups toward Mechanic Smith’s workshop.

  “They want to protect themselves. They don’t want to be victims anymore.” Richmond’s steps were light despite the weight of her prostheses. “Many vow to die rather than be enslaved again. If they choose to die, then we will honor their request.” She glanced at the groups before leaning closer to Nell. “If our casualties continue at the same rate in the upcoming battle, there may not be many Syn-En left at the end of the war.”

  Nell’s stomach cramped. She wanted to vomit. She never wanted to see chocolate again. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “There are a hundred thousand enemy and not even two thousand fighting Syn-En.” Richmond held open the door to the workshop. The forest of equipment gurgled, bubbled, and puffed steam. “The admiral has forbidden anymore of us from being made.”

  “But I think I may have a solution to that.” Mechanic Smith stomped into view. NDA encased his body in armor. Swords overshot the guns in his hands by six inches. He stopped near an oxygen-scrubbing tower and targeted two different waste disposal units. “What do you think?”

  Nell swallowed her irritation. She thought it was crazy. The Syn-En could handle the Scraptors. “How did you manage to make it solidify?”

  “That took some doing.” Smith’s black eyes twinkled. He spun on his heel. His hair had been shaved from his ebony scalp. Blue and red light pulsed in the small cube at the base of his skull. “But I used you for inspiration.”

  “You created a brain box.” Shang’hai was going to kill Nell. Slowly.

  “Ingenious, right?” He grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Best of all, it’s reversible.”

  He pulled out the cube. The NDA beaded then ran in rivulets off his body. The silvery puddle shimmered before snaking under the edge of the curtain of dangling, severed limbs.

  “Where is it going?” Nell followed the silver tail.

  Smith rubbed his palms together. “The brain box works on every species we’ve tried so far.”

  Oh god, oh god. Nell bit her lip. The world had gone mad. When she said everyone must do their bit, she hadn’t meant fighting. She pushed aside the curtain of arms and stepped into the work area.

  The benches had been pushed to the side. Blue and red boxes blinked from the necks of Iseans, Picaroons, and four other species. Apollie guided them through the attack moves on a Scraptor dummy. Her NDA armor was speckled red with fake blood.

  The aliens’ NDA thinned into swords and axes to pierce chests then transformed into hammers to crush skulls as the drill continued.

  Apollie did a double-take before raising her hand in greeting. “Nell. You are back.”

  The Picaroon took her motion as an order. He brought up his sword and sliced off Apollie’s arm.

  Blue blood arced out of her stump. She fell to her knees on the grated deck.

  The alien stumbled backward.

  Nell rushed forward. She could fix her friend. She would. Glancing down, she felt her heart stop. The fermites hadn’t answered her call. Cold trickled down her back. The Meek couldn’t have taken away one of her superpowers, could they? She mentally launched into the theme song for Gilligan’s Island. A silvery haze grew from her hands.

  Smith skidded to a stop next to the featherhead. “Call the NDA. Order it to seal the wound.”

  “I’m trying.” The puddle grew around her and blood crept up her uniform. The NDA beaded.

  “Just hang on.” Nell pushed the ball of fermites at her friend. The atomic machines stopped inches from her hands. Why weren’t they working? They had to work. She scooped the fermite ball up as she passed.

  Richmond grabbed the severed limb from the pool of blood and pressed it against Apollie’s stump.

  Nell wrapped her arms around the cut flesh. Warm blood dripped between her fingers. Heal her. Heal Apollie.

  The fermites zipped in and out of the wound. The bleeding slowed. She pictured the NDA wrapping the cut like a bandage. Her battery alarm dinged. Fifty percent charged. She was using more energy with less results. If this trend continued, how was she to help the wounded when the real battle started?

  Chapter 23

  “Admiral,” Executive Officer Cassius Pennig spoke through the c
om system. “The Scraptors are attacking Plenipota.”

  Fatigue pulled at Bei’s systems. He checked his internal clock. The Skaperian and Syn-En leaders had been planning their battle response for the last ten hours. All of it around faulty intel.

  The enemy had attacked a day early.

  The Alliance’s primary and contingency plans would have to be scrapped.

  Leaning heavily on her cane, Ugu watched the new information obliterate perfectly good tactics. “Looks like we’re stuck with Plan B.”

  Omest, the Picaroon, rubbed at the red circles ringing his green eyes. “Plan B? But that’s projected to destroy all the new Slayer-class fighters.”

  “Better the fighters than our Alliance.” Rome pushed away from the wall. His eyes turned pitch black in his sockets. “Shall I ask for a volunteer to pilot the Slayers? “

  “I volunteer.” Pennig interrupted.

  Bei locked his facial muscles. Pennig had been the father Bei had never known to almost all of them. His loss could demoralize the entire Syn-En crew.

  “I’m tired of upgrades.” Pennig disturbed Bei’s thoughts. “If this pays the Bug-uglies back for what they did to Captain Amazon, then I’ll be riding the chariot in style.”

  Bei sucked in a lungful of air. The romance between his executive officer and the captain had ended before it had really begun. Could he allow the sacrifice?

  Omest stepped forward. A lock of black hair came loose from his head-molded hairdo. “The Syn-En shouldn’t be allowed to sacrifice so much. This is everyone’s fight. Everyone’s quest for payback and justice. I volunteer as well.”

  Ugu thumped her cane. “I, too, volunteer. War is for the young. Let my death be meaningful.”

  Why were the fools so anxious to die? Bei shook his head. “We stick with Plan B. Pennig has the best chance to survive it. Man your stations. Follow your orders. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

  “Let us pray that Human technology doesn’t fail us.” Ugu patted his arm as she shuffled by. “May the enemy’s blood flow freely around you, but not a drop of your own be spilled.”

  “To you as well.” The bubble engines powered up, stirring the hair on Bei’s arm. His sensors detected a slight oscillation. Shang’hai.