Bei dug his fingers deeper into the round ports of the tactical bay. After rebooting the Starboard thrusters and stopping the Starfarer’s spin, he’d powered off the hub and ordered a reboot in one second. “Disengage from the com system.”
Commander Keyes’s connection fell dark. “It was—”
The next wave hit. Metal buckled. Bei diverted energy to increase the magnetic attraction of his floor to him and his crew. His skin felt raw beneath his uniform as he slid along the wall. Sparks sprayed in white bursts from the hubs before the room went dark. Even activating his nightvision upgrades in his ocular implants made no difference. He couldn’t see a thing. Something banged loudly in the vicinity of his feet. He hoped it wasn’t the commander being hurled across the room. Focusing on his hearing, he listened for Keyes’s breathing. Nothing. Damn.
Tingles raced up his arms. Blue static electricity crawled over his armor, casting an eerie glow around him. A instant before the tactical hub hummed to life, Bei noted the change in the room. The Starfarer had stopped. So many dead and yet… His cardiac implant quickly compensated for the skipped beats in his heart.
They’d done it.
No synthetic enhancement needed. Data flooded into his cranial interface, now working properly. Emergency protocols quickly prioritized the damage and relayed implementation steps. Like the touch of a long lost friend, he felt the brush of other Syn-Ens in the fleet as captains, commanders, lieutenants and ensigns checked in through the wireless array.
A groan came from near his head before an identification ping bounced off his interface.
“Fricking implants.” Shang’hai’s voice growled through the darkness. She uttered a curse a second before he heard the scrape of metal against metal. “Sorry to miss all the excitement, Admiral. Stupid snap disconnect caused an emergency reboot. And humans think hangovers are bad.”
He pinged her back, a sign of his sympathy. Emergency reboots fried circuits engineers had forgotten existed in an effort to prevent an electric surge from liquefying a Syn-En’s brain. “I’ve restored life support in inhabited areas, but radiation is rising and unless we can get the shield up, we’ll die of exposure long before we freeze to death.”
“I’m connecting via the WA to engineering,” Shang’hai grunted. The soft rasp of a panel opening fluttered around the room. “Ninety percent of the hull is gone. Wardens are retrieving the larger chunks. Engines offline. Not responding to commands. Initiating manual override.”
“Starfarer’s com systems are down,” Commander Keyes hissed from his left. Light flooded the command deck emanating from her wrist. She set her detached right hand against the waistband of her trousers. “Stay.”
The fingers looped around her belt and clung to her flat stomach.
Bei grinned at the old trick used to disturb their human officers. Magnets had their uses, especially in battle when spare parts were needed and just lying around ripe for the picking. “I register four aft ships attached.”
“They also report the least damage through the WA.” Shang-hai appeared in a blue glow as she removed her twisted synthetic right leg and tucked it under her arm. Using the captain’s chair as leverage, she hauled herself to a stand then hopped toward the ladder access near the briefing room’s entrance. “I’ve asked them to focus a five percent venting at the Starfarer’s hull. The heat should quicken the Alloy’s return to its programmed shape.”
“Estimated time to restored hull integrity?” Bei found the emergency lights and powered them with the stored energy reserves. Orange light pulsed in the half-moon shaped room. It wasn’t much, but working by the light of amputated body parts had a negative effect on morale, especially among non-Syn-Ens.
“Thirty minutes.” Keyes snapped her hand back on her wrist. “Sorry Admiral, but the pieces of hull are everywhere and the wardens are having a hard time distinguishing them from the other debris.”
Bei’s forehead pounded from deciphering the data. “How many are lost?”
After clicking the bits of armor back into place over her legs, the commander rose to her feet. Pain pinched her orange cast features. “Twelve darts are no longer registering. But I count only sixty life signs among the field. I’ve diverted two wardens to retrieve the crews.”
Nodding, Bei decided against adding the additional deaths to the running tally. Syn-Ens could survive for fourteen days in open space, but they couldn’t survive any more rads than an ordinary human. A technical glitch no one had thought worth fixing. “Their radiation dose should be within tolerances by the time all are reclaimed.”
The ladder hatch popped open. Its lid clattered against the metal floor. Civilian Montgomery Smith stuck his dark head through the octagonal opening before clawing at the grates and pulling himself up. Although he had a gash on his cheek, he appeared unharmed. No doubt thanks to being strapped into one of the chairs in the Starfarer’s storm cellar with the rest of the crew that remained on board.
“I’ve checked the wireless array, sent some techs to repair the com system and thought I’d visit you all to see if anyone could use a good mechanic.” The Civie’s green eyes locked onto Shang’hai.
She tossed her leg at him. A smile curved her full lips. “Repair that after you see to the captain and I expect it to be returned to me. Personally.”
Bei raised an eyebrow at the invitation. Syn-En celebrated their survival with sex. Most humans, enhanced or otherwise, looked down on the practice, viewing it as proof of the low morals of lesser humans. Since he accepted the ritual with such ease, Smith certainly bore closer scrutiny. Not that Bei begrudged Shang’hai happiness, but the nine months on this mission punctuated the growing tensions between the Syn-Ens and the civilians.
Smith’s eyes glittered as he caught then stroked the shapely leg. “Aye, ma’am.”
“I’ll send you an engine update as soon as I get down there.” Shang’hai hooked her remaining leg around the opening, flopped on her belly then wiggled back into the ladder access. Her fingers fused together as they wrapped partway around the tubular ladder’s sides. After a quick glance down, she disappeared. “Look out below.”
Her warning echoed throughout the tube.
Using the armor to protect her hands from burning, Shang’hai would slide the four decks to engineering. Bei hoped one leg would be enough to stop her descent. He disconnected from the silent engineering port. Updates and request for intell on rescue operations clogged the WA. Com systems needed to be restored before panic set in.
Commander Keyes wobbled to the access hatch.
Syn-Ens didn’t limp. His communication’s officer had obviously suffered significant injuries. “How badly are you damaged, Keyes?”
At Bei’s words, Smith looked up from his place by the captain’s still form. He quickly set the damaged limb to the side and shrugged the pack off his back. His questioning gaze drifted from the commander to the captain and back again before settling on Bei.
Shuttering his thoughts, Bei met the civie’s gaze. The captain’s outmoded enhancements had overloaded in the second wave. All they could do now was wait until his human heart and brain gave up the fight.
“I won’t know that until I’ve finished the self-repair algorhithms.” The commander stumbled, hitting the ground with one knee before pitching face first into the floor. Blood oozed out of the cuts on her face before they quickly scabbed over. “I don’t think I’m supposed to walk with my face.”
Bei smiled. Leave it to his friend to find the humor in a bad situation.
Smith scooted closer, setting his hand on her back while he attached two alligator clips to the fiber optic cords dangling from her nape. His leads disappeared under the sleeves of his blue uniform. “Stop moving.”
“I have a job to do, Civilian Smith,” she snapped but stopped struggling.
Bei focused on resurrecting the targeting system. He kept meeting dead ends in the mainframe. The hair at the base of his neck rose. Only a physical cut could do that. Had the Starfarer take
n a physical blow from flying debris?
“So do I.” Smith tucked the commander’s hair behind her ears, allowing her to glare up at him. “You’ve sustained damage to your spinal column, severing most of your auxiliary connections. The only place you’re going is to the infirmary.”
Bei choked on his snort. Commander Keyes would die before going to the infirmary. His amusement faded as quickly as it came. Too many Syn-Ens were willing to sacrifice. Not this time. The commander’s subordinates could handle the problems. Already he felt them searching the decks looking for the manual tear. He sent the command overriding her mobility core. “You’ll return to duty after a medic and tech okay you.”
“But, I have to restore the com link.” A spasm curled her into a fetal position and locked her in place. Anger flashed in her dark eyes. “Admiral, I need to do my job.”
Ignoring her, Bei searched for Chief Rome’s signal on the WA. Where was security when he needed them? Bei switched his focus to the waiting tech. “See to the captain.”
Smith nodded, flipped open his pack, then leaned over Captain Penig. Slim ebony fingers danced over the older man’s torso before slipping into the white hair and tugging free the fiber optic cables. “Hey, Captain. I came to make sure you weren’t trying to get out of that fishing trip on Terra Dos.”
Captain Penig’s head twitched. Drool glistened in the corner of his mouth.
Bei watched the civie closely. If he so much as treated the captain with a picogram of disrespect, the tech would find himself at the bottom of the access shaft.
“I’m going to turn you now.” Smith gently rolled the captain onto his left side. Quickly connecting the alligator clips, the tech smiled at the readout on his arm. “No liquefied or scrambled brains, just a few burned out circuits.” The civie flicked back a fingertip and unscrewed the plate covering the back of the captain’s neck. “Guess you’re glad I insisted you try my upgrades, huh?”
The captain jerked again then lay still.
“No chariot ride for you, not until you’ve caught a fish.” A soft twang infused the civie’s voice. “It should only take me a minute to replace the leads, then I’ll see to you, Admiral. A man’s toes and face should point in the same direction.”
Bei leaned against the hub. The tech definitely needed a closer look. Captain Penig would live because Smith had done what other humans refused to do, upgrade the older Syn-Ens. Static filled the LCDs. Bei glanced at the white screen.
“Guess, I trained my crew pretty good after all if they got the com system up and running so quickly.” The commander craned her neck.
Ensign Faso’s smirking face filled the LCD. “Hello Syn-En. I’ve taken control of the ship’s com and tactical systems. If you don’t comply with my demands, I’ll use all the Syn-En life pods for target practice.”
Terrorist: An individual or group that uses illegal methods,
including fear and violence to obtain an end, usually at odds
with the established order. Solution: immediate termination.
— Syn-En Vade Mecum
Chapter Three
“What? Nothing to say? Did you even miss me, Admiral?” Burkina fixated on Bei’s face filling the square screen embedded in the cargo bay’s interior wall. Around her, wreckage from the fleet’s lost ships floated in the low gravity. The huge salvaged parts waited in a scorched metal and air slurry for refurbishing and reuse in another Syn-En project. Her motley band of twelve civilian lovers blended with the debris cocktail, hiding from the man on the screen. Cowards! Didn’t they realize their behavior would allow the Syn-En to subjugate the humans? Thank God, she had arrived in time to liberate the civilians.
“Burkina.” Instead of appearing upright, his head appeared horizontal on the screen, as if he were laying down. Obviously, the damage to the ship had been extensive and even the Admiral hadn’t escaped its effects. Wet blood pooled in the wrinkles at the corner of Beijing’s blue almond-shaped eyes and beaded on the patches of raw skin on his forehead, cheeks and right ear.
At Bei’s blank expression, rage surged through her veins. The man hadn’t even batted a mechanical eyelash when she’d threatened to kill all his precious soldiers. What would it take to get a reaction from the Syn-En scum?
“Which cargo bay are you hiding in?” the Admiral asked.
“I’m not hiding.” To her right, the magnetic field holding in the Starfarer’s atmosphere buzzed orange and red. She flinched as more fricking debris hit the ship. The sound reminded her of a bug zapper during the long Louisiana summers of her human youth. She’d see Earth again. She’d regain her citizen status. Just as the ship’s backup power system kept the atmosphere and her from being sucked into space, her human brain and heart stopped her from turning into a cyborg freak.
Too late, she realized she hadn’t denied being in the cargo bay. Even though she controlled the com, Bei would be able to track the signal. So much for Civilian Tim Smith’s computer expertise jamming the signal.
“If you report to solitary, I will not lengthen your sentence for insubordination,” the Admiral urged, his voice as bland as if he were talking about the weather.
“Never!” Burkina would have slammed her fist through the screen if the Admiral could have felt the blow. At least this bay’s floors had limited electrical capabilities. Bei and his minions wouldn’t be able to bury her under garbage by increasing the magnetic field in the floor.
That small fact kept Tim from paying a lethal price for leading her to the wrong cargo bay.
“If you make us hunt for you, your time in solitary will be longer.” The Admiral glanced sideways appearing bored with the conversation.
“You have no authority to sentence me.” Burkina clenched her hands, felt the plates of her armored skin buckle inside her fists. She opened her hands, to allow the NDA to smooth out. The ghostly white of the wormhole’s reflection touched the naked bulkheads and glowed on the dark ribs. Carbon dioxide, nitrogen and oxygen belched in clumps of fog near the severed conduits running above the com screen.
Fanned out behind her, her Civie lovers awaited orders like sheep. Sex and their rabid desire to return to Earth kept them under control, but their lack of initiative turned her stomach. She wouldn’t airlock the incompetent lot just yet. Especially since this little set-back would allow her a measure of revenge against the mighty Syn-En admiral.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.” Eying his broad shoulders, Burkina allowed herself a moment of regret that the cyborg hadn’t been controlled by sex. Of course, the freak had probably slept with half of his subordinates. The race’s promiscuity could be the only reason why he hadn’t appreciated her debasing herself to screw him. Now, he’d pay for the pleasure as well as his refusal to grant her a few simple privileges.
The admiral’s attention drifted toward the screen then away again. “Civilian Timothy left the bridge shortly after you. Obviously, he found and freed you from solitary confinement.”
Partially camouflaged in the floating mass on her left, Tim gasped.
Bastard. Again, Burkina resisted the urge to slam her fist through the monitor. So what if the admiral knew who had helped her escape. That didn’t make him superior. Nor did she believe the Syn-Ens had special means to communicate with each other. Of course, there was the WA, but that was only for emergency and for the year she’d been one of the ungodly few, it had never been activated. No doubt because the WA’s use was illegal and the Syn-En were fanatical in their adherence to the laws. Still, the Civies’ paranoia about such mythical Syn-En power helped her control them. She might even let on that Bei knew their names, in case any of them considered backing out. Add in her four decades as a citizen, and she was destined to lead this little coup.
Citizens commanded; Civilians and Syn-Ens obeyed.
The Admiral needed to be reminded of his proper place. All men did.
From the corner of her right eye, Burkina watched Tim scuttle deeper into the metal slush. She barely contained the urge
to grab him by the throat and smash his face into the camera over the com panel. The Syn-En should see their faces, know who they served. “I now control the communications and tactical stations.”
“Did you manually cut into the cables or merely take advantage of the damage?” A pulsing blue light illuminated the Admiral’s neck and his fiber optic cables wiggled like worms from the interfaces at the base of his skull.
Burkina shivered at the reminder of the cranium implants. At least, the doctors hadn’t rewired her brain, turning her into a monster. “I took advantage of your call to abandon ship to do a little remodeling.”
She smiled. Although his face didn’t reflect it, the knowledge that his own order allowed her to seize control of his prized ship must eat at him. She ducked as a flat chunk of floating metal skimmed her short black hair.
“Damn.” Swearing softly, Tim thumped the electronic status pad in his hands and crept forward. The low gravity muffled his footfalls. His elbow knocked another hunk of twisted debris in her direction.
She shoved the torso-sized piece into his gut.
Tim’s breath left his body in a vapor cloud. Rubbing his paunch, he slunk further into the cargo bay.
“Any more remodeling plans?” The Admiral’s eyes locked with hers.
Burkina snorted. Did he really think she was stupid enough to tell him? He was about to find out what citizens were capable of. Crossing her arms, she savored her revenge. “Since I am the only Citizen of rank on board, I hereby relieve you of command. All personnel will report to me and follow my orders.”
Before her eyes, the scrapes on the Admiral’s face disappeared.
His self-repairing armor even soaked up the spilled blood, no doubt sending the cells to be recycled. Proof of his inhumanity. “UN Resolution 2012R1221 Indentured Servitude For Repayment of Debts revoked your citizen status and all rights entitled —”
“I don’t need a citizen history lesson from you, Syn-En.” Their unnatural healing abilities also made the Syn-Ens undefeated in all their civilian-cyborg engagements. Burkina clasped her hands behind her back to still their trembling. She could heal like that, too, and she was smart. She’d win this skirmish. “Now as to my first order…”
The Syn-En Solution Page 4