“Now you are angry at me.” The oracle studied her tapered fingers.
“I’m angry because the odds were stacked against me.” Good God, Nell could have failed. Then Bei and the Syn-En would have died. Add in the fact, Nell had been used like a tissue. Yep, she was a little torqued.
“I wanted to warn you, but I was forbidden to do so.” Davena milked her fingers.
“I understand.” This time Nell meant it. The fermites healed the dead, created zombie pod people, and basically mucked everything up they didn’t approve of. Only a crazy person wouldn’t do their bidding.
“Shall we send them on their journey to reunite with the Meek?”
Nell untwisted the pretzel of her words. No. She couldn’t mean… “You want to euthanize them?”
“Yes.” Davena smoothed Karl’s wrinkled forehead. “There is no purpose in their continued suffering.”
“Yes, but…” Nell tried to shrink-wrap the thought. Intellectually, she didn’t have a problem with such a decision. Terminal patients should have that right. But actually sending Karl and Erin on the journey was a whole other stack of pancakes.
Doc appeared with two more syringes. The doses were triple the previous ones. “I’ll do it.”
“You should save your medicines for the living who will need your treatment.” Davena hummed softly.
“Right. Because Syn-En medicine and everything about its use is wrong, because we weren’t a gift from the Meek.” He stormed away.
O—kay. Embarrassment heated Nell’s cheeks. “I’m sorry for that.”
“As you said, he is upset. We were both given a glimpse of a future that was to be shared only to have it denied us.” Starting at Karl’s feet, Davena laid a blanket of fermites over him. Soon, the twinkling blanket covered his face.
He stopped twitching. His breathing evened out. His skin turned a healthy pink and his lips relaxed into a half smile. Then he exhaled and was still. The analyzer flatlined before switching off.
He was dead.
It had been very peaceful. Certainly more pleasant than overdosing on sleeping pills, slitting one’s wrists, or gulping down car exhaust. Maybe Nell could do it.
Davena turned to Erin.
“Teach me.”
“If you are sure.” The oracle wrapped her arms around Nell and stood directly behind her. “Set your hands under mine.”
Nell complied. The scent of wildflowers surrounded her. Fermites gathered in a snowball by their palms then pattered softly around Erin’s body. They crept silently to the dying woman’s head. Warmth and peace blossomed inside Nell’s breast. She was doing a good thing here. The right thing.
Erin smiled as she passed away.
Nell’s fingers tingled as the fermites disappeared from sight. She rubbed them on her trousers. “What are the lyrics to your song?”
“It’s not a song.”
“Then what are the words?”
Davena smoothed the skirts of her robes. “Don’t let me mess this up. Don’t let me mess this up. And sometimes, I throw in a please and thank you.”
Laughter bubbled up Nell’s throat. The oracle always looked so calm, so self-possessed, yet she, too, was afraid she’d mess up. Nell threw her arms around her. “Thank you. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
Davena hugged her back. “Oracles aren’t supposed to doubt.”
“To doubt is Human.” The air sparkled. Nell glanced down at Karl’s disintegrating body. Soon all that remained were his prosthetic arm and legs from the knees down, a pair of eyes, an artificial pancreas and heart and… A square box. “What organ is square?”
“Square?” Stepping back, Davena turned. “I don’t understand?”
Nell bent over, reaching for the cube.
“Don’t touch it!” Apollie’s shout boomed off the walls. “That’s a Founders’ tracker.”
Nell jerked her hand back. “The Founders knew we were coming to Surlat. They requested it. Why would they track us?”
“It’s not just a locator beacon. You must contact the admiral immediately.” Apollie’s raptor claws extended and her vambraces powered up. “That device picks up auditory data, provides telemetry, and can tap into any computer.”
Nell sucked cold air over her teeth. Such a spy bug could do a lot of damage. “I’ll tell Bei the Scraptors may know he’s coming.”
“Tell them, the Founders know every weak point in his body and, I’d bet my breastplate, the new Scraptor armor was designed to exploit those weaknesses.”
Chapter 25
A soft rasp assaulted Groat’s ears. Someone was in the room with him and Tridit. Some coward planned to kill him while he rotted with the Plague. He drew in a ragged breath. Perhaps, he could die fighting after all. He opened his eyes.
The room sharpened in minute detail—the trails in the dust, the water spots on the concrete ceiling, and the sword limb sliding across the floor toward him. No one moved the limb. No one at all, but it kept coming.
Flattening his hands on the wall, he clambered to his feet, kicking at the approaching severed appendage. Toxins flooded his stinger. His armor locked into place but there was no enemy to fight. No enemy to see. Groat’s blood froze in his veins. The ghosts of the mighty Erwar. They were real!
Tridit perched in a niche. His red armor covered his frame, each segment perfectly aligned and shining like flame. Two pinschers levitated toward the empty sockets in his armor. He pressed deeper into his cubby, but there was no where to go. “Commander?”
Groat’s severed limbs floated off the floor. Each soared to the height it would attach to his torso. “I don’t think it means to harm us.”
Sweat trickled inside his armor. Could the spirit of his ancestors be protecting him? Did they, too, see the honor that he could do the family name and their race?
Tridit’s eyestalk bent into L-shapes and faced the wall. The pinscher claws sank into his joints. For a moment, bright white light filled the seams. It quickly faded and left only a smooth surface behind.
That light nagged at Groat’s memory. Where had he heard of that light before? “Eyestalks front. See if your pinschers work.”
He stiffened as his own limbs attached themselves to his torso. Heat filled the joints then a soothing balm swept over him. The light faded, leaving only a seal behind.
Raising his pinschers, Tridit opened and closed his claws. “They work better than when they were new.”
Groat tested his own set. Smooth, even movements. Three hundred sixty degrees of motion. No pain. And no itch. “Definitely better than when they were installed.”
Tridit leapt off the niche. The thud of his landing echoed in the empty, rectangular room. “What do you suppose the light means?”
“My grandsire’s logs are full of old legends. Legends of the light of the ancients.” The old warrior’s obsession had been one of the reasons he’d been relieved of his command and relegated to ferrying cargo to and from Surlat. Scraptors fought, trained, and enforced the collective will. Research belonged to the other Founders. History was low on their priorities.
There was no profit in it.
If Groat wanted to be named Commander of the Fleet, he had better remember that. Perhaps he should seal his mandibles shut. He reached for his oil then stopped. He didn’t need it. For the moment. He stabbed the wall with his newest appendages. Chunks of concrete sprayed the ground. Removing the rubble, he inspected the divot. Three inches deep. His armor worked perfectly.
For once.
“Commander?”
Groat snapped out of his reveries. What would it hurt to tell Tridit? His comrade already pledged himself to the cause. “The legends say the light is a blessing upon those favored by the spirits of the Erwarians.”
“Surlat was the capital of their galactic empire. And the Founders held the place of honor as their favorites.” Tridit clasped his claws behind his back.
“Perhaps the Scraptors were their favorite of all. Only warriors could conquer the known worlds.�
� But how far did the beneficence extend? Stooping, Groat picked the radio off the floor. “Recruit?”
“Commander.” The pink armored youth’s relief overpowered the static. “Have you healed as well?”
“The power and fury of the universe resides within me.”
Tridit paced the room.
“The Scraptors shall vanquish all who challenge the Founders.” The recruit repeated the appropriate response, then he whispered. “I can’t find the engineer. Not a trace of him, his armor, or his life signal. It’s like he’s disappeared.”
Groat’s armor crackled with unease. Could the Erwarians have demanded a sacrifice before they blessed him, Tridit, and the recruit? He would never be authorized to write a Valor in Battle letter for the fallen warrior. Technically, this mission did not happen, and the engineer’s mate would never receive her death benefits. A sour taste rolled over his pointy teeth. “Have you attempted to contact the Celestia?”
“Negative, Commander. I have been awaiting your orders.”
“Open a channel.” Groat rubbed his forearm. Mindless obedience served a purpose, usually the Founders. To survive in the Scraptor ranks, a warrior had to relearn a few things.
“Opening a channel.” The recruit’s voice disappeared in a void.
Groat pictured him manually switching frequencies to connect with the dreadnaught in orbit.
Tridit cocked an eyestalk. “The recruit is a rule follower?”
“Too soon to tell. But I’ll keep an eye on him.” If the recruit didn’t switch allegiance to his fellow Scraptors, his career would be short and violent.
Static preceded the recruit’s audible return. “Commander, Political Officer Argent wishes to speak to you.”
Groat bet the stinky Munician did. “Patch him through.”
“Patching through.” The recruit breathed heavily.
“Groat? Groat?” Mopus’s irritating whine shredded the silence. “I thought you were connecting me. Don’t you know how to do your job?”
Whatever Scraptor the green politico addressed didn’t answer.
Mopus would probably demand Groat write the warrior up for insubordination. Groat would, but the file would be lost before it left his battleship. One of the benefits of commanding such a derelict relic. Maybe the only one. “Mopus, you requested to speak with me.”
“Ah, Groat. I take this to mean the Founders’ new and improved vaccine has protected you from the Plague.”
Groat snorted. Mopus was wrong. The virus had scoffed at the vaccine. But to tell the truth would be to risk demotion at the stinky politician’s hands. Groat would not end up as his grandsire had. “We’ve recovered.”
“Excellent. Just excellent. The Decrepi will be pleased.”
“How will they know since we aren’t officially here?” Tridit rolled his eyestalks. Opening his armor, he removed his copulator and pissed in the corner. The acrid liquid stained the concrete.
Mopus cleared his throat. “Have you completed your mission?”
Groat cracked his knuckles. Reporting failure always had consequences. “The first two depots were empty. We are proceeding to the third data warehouse.”
Silence.
Groat cursed. Politicians didn’t understand that their timetable was not always feasible no matter how elite the soldier. As the Humans said, shit happens.
A long sigh blew through the radio. “You must hurry, Groat. We are detecting Human life signs in your area. We can’t have them finding those data crystals first, can we?”
Humans. Groat spit then dragged his hand across his mandibles. “I’ll retrieve the crystals.”
“And Groat.” Mopus’s whisper was a bed of gravel. “Leave no witnesses.”
The link was severed.
Groat attached the radio to his armor. “Let’s move out.”
Tridit strode out the doorway into the morning light. Scraptors did not hide or skulk, especially when a skirmish could happen at any time. “I wonder how my improved armor will perform against the Humans this time.”
“We shall find out.” Groat pounded across the floor. “And maybe this time we will test it on a Syn-En.”
Chapter 26
Bei knelt on the landing of Sub-level Four and set the electronic trip wires. Five levels of staircases spiraled around the atrium at the heart of the lab complex. Hallways radiated off the open space like spokes on a wheel. Darkness concealed everything. Water dripped through the cracks and the walls slowly crumbled, but the fermites quickly dealt with any rubble.
He hoped this vault contained data crystals. Their mission could not be for nothing.
His implants twitched but his hands remained steady as he aligned the laser. Pale light shone from the half-Watt bulb topping his index finger. Night vision painted the bare walls and risers in lime green. Anyone peeking over the balcony or standing at the guard stations could target the light and shoot him.
Sensors reporting all clear, Admiral. Ensign Richmond’s camouflaged armor made her one with their inky surroundings.
Even without his enhanced vision, he knew she knelt on his right with the energy rifle in her hands aimed at the upper floors. Standard Operating Procedure. Given the dust wasn’t disturbed at the lab’s entrance, I don’t think we’ll meet the enemy until we’re leaving.
If then.
Ninety-three minutes into the mission, Bei and the Syn-En had nothing to show for their efforts. Team Bravo had reported Charlie vault as empty. Bei had aborted searching their first targeted data vault after noticing the bootprints on the floor. An untried security officer and unknown intel payoff coupled with Doc’s warning about the Founders’ spy-bot, swung his actions toward discretion.
Bei switched off the light and night vision then rose. Thanks to the fermite housekeepers, the laser beam remained invisible. Let’s move out. Ultrasound turned the world into angles of white and gray surrounded by inky black. With his hand on the wall, he walked down the last flight of stairs.
Richmond ghosted behind him. The rasp of a boot heel gave away her fear. I think I would prefer to infiltrate an occupied complex.
You would have been able to practice more of your skills. Unfortunately, the fermites had cleared away every trace.
This emptiness is an electromagnet toying with my circuits. I’m imagining things that aren’t there.
Focus on what you see with the ultrasound. Bei’s fingers glided over a smooth surface. Glass. A gray bubble directly across the atrium betrayed the clear line of sight of yet another guard station. The Founders didn’t trust their citizens. He scanned the lab interior.
Tall benches carved up the rectangular room. Human-sized cages cast a net in the right corner. In the left corner, a large lamp hovered over a table with straps. A sole stool remained tucked under a work station. Behind glass-fronted cabinets, graduated cylinders, beakers, and volumetric flasks waited.
All this equipment is so low tech. Richmond whispered through the WA. What do you suppose happened to their technology?
I imagine the fermites dismantled it once it stopped working. A shame really. Bei would have liked to see the inside of the Founders’ technology. It might even give him a clue to their projects. His gut clenched. The best he might get out of this mission could be a training exercise for his men.
Alpha and Omega, this is Bravo team. Security Lieutenant Portland shimmered in cyberspace. Delta warehouse is empty. I repeat no joy at Delta site.
Understood Bravo. Fall back to exfiltration site and keep an eye out for Bug-uglies.
Copy that, Alpha. Lieutenant Portland lobbed a glowing ball through cyberspace. It’s all up to you, Omega. You’re our last hope.
Richmond’s avatar caught the ball and tossed it between her hands. I’ve got you covered, Bravo. We’ll find that Intel and repay Bug-uglies’ spying with a little espionage, Syn-En style.
Portland tossed a lightning bolt after her. Don’t get cocky, Ensign.
Who’s cocky? Richmond stretched the ball into a shield,
deflecting the lightning bolt. I’m determined. I want payback.
Yeah, well sign our names to the bottom of that requisition and see you at the exfil site. Portland faded out of the WA.
Stepping off the last riser, Bei leaped over a puddle of water and checked the map created during the shuttle’s flyover. Given the depth and geologic composition of the complex, his sensor resolution grew murky on Sub-level Five but the last warehouse should be down the South corridor. As a precaution, he swept the area with ultrasonic waves. Two hallways on the left had collapsed. That could account for the distortions on the map. He walked down the black throat of the South corridor.
Richmond hummed in the WA.
The melody stirred the fringes of Bei’s conscious. He’d heard that tune before. Nell had been humming it while in her catatonic state. What is that tune?
It is a theme song to an old Earth entertainment serial titled Gilligan’s Island.
Bei slowed as he approached the first guard station. Pockmarks in the wall and sharp metal rods on the floor revealed that the first booby-trap had been triggered. No point in quizzing the ensign over this trick. It was obvious. Stepping over the metal lengths, he scanned ahead for an electronic signature of more pitfalls. Does this serial contain a ship?
A boat, for traveling on the sea. Although why anyone would take such a small vessel on the ocean is beyond me.
No traps. He moderated his pace and continued to check. What is the premise of the serial?
Seven people are shipwrecked on an island and between drinking out of coconut shells and eating a lot of pie, they attempt to improve their situation in various manners. Usually the ideas are the brain child of one man.
The professor? Bei made a note to check out this serial while Nell slept.
Nell Stafford has made you watch it, too? I didn’t care much for the skinny biologic, at first, but after four episodes, I did want to know what happened next. So I watched the entire series and the movie events.
Chunks of the corners were torn away from the next guard station. What was the trap here?
Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins Page 21
