The knowledge settled uneasily inside Bei with a familiar itching between his shoulder blades. The man made no attempt to mask his destination, which meant only one thing. Traps waited in the millions of kilometers between the Syn-En fleet and Terra Dos.
“All ships cut engines.” Entering cyberspace, Bei made his way to CIC. The Dobermans limped, but kept vigil despite the holes in their pixilated bodies. Telemetry reported all ships had complied with his orders, but the fleet still hurtled toward Terra Dos at eight thousand kilometers per second. Bei withdrew from the WA, choosing to send his orders through the com. “Emergency staff meeting in five minutes.”
Chief Rome’s image disappeared from the screen, leaving only his verbal acknowledgement. “I’ve secured the conference room on deck three. Commander Keyes is implementing a new encryption program so we’ll be able to include the fleet officers.”
Bei consulted the schematic. More of his men had gathered outside Starflight 2’s abandoned airlock. Not putting it past the bastard to sabotage the sensors, Bei ran a second diagnostic on the hull doors to confirm they were sealed and maintaining pressure. “Security Team you have a green light to retrieve the downed crewmen from the airlock. Sick bay prepare for incoming.”
“Aye, sir.” From behind Bei, Doc cleared his throat. “We’ll check for viruses before bringing them online.”
Bei cleared the com’s screen then headed for the door. “Join us in the conference room when you’ve finished.”
“Aye, sir.” Doc’s voice followed Bei into the hallway.
Cradling his rifle, Chief Rome pushed away from the beige wall, and joined the trek to the elevator at the end of the corridor.
Bei swore under his breath. He didn’t want company at the moment, but short of locking the other man’s armor, he couldn’t find a way out of the escort. “Say what’s on your mind, Chief.”
“Letting her go was the right choice.”
The right choice. Bei shook his head. He’d made the only choice. He hoped Nell didn’t suffer for it. Clasping his hands behind his back, he checked the clock in the WA, counting down Nell and the bastard’s arrival at Terra Dos. One hour thirty-seven minutes. The Syn-En fleet would be longer in coming, especially if they had to overcome traps.
Rome slanted Bei a look. “Of course, we’re not going to let the bastard have her for good. We’re just going to pick the battlefield.”
A fight involved action. Unless the Syn-En found a way around the bastard’s codes, Bei and his strike force would end up statues on the field of engagement. There had to be a way. He sent his command code to the elevator, arranging for it to open so neither of them had to break stride to enter.
“Nell’s a smart woman. She knows we’ll come for her.” Rome leaned against the mirrored wall of the lift as the doors closed.
Bei pressed the three button and the lift glided smoothly up. How could they circumvent technology, when the Syn-En were more machine than man? Boost the defender programs and virus watches? Hadn’t made a bit of difference the last time. So where did that leave him, besides ready to rip off someone’s head? Bei pressed the speaker button on the panel. “Doc, figure out how the bastard sent his code to decommission you, the crew, and Faso.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Doc acknowledged. “I’ll have someone bring me the head of the traitor. Oh and sir, every one of the comatose crewmen has been infected with viruses, Trojans and spybots. I, uh, apparently let them loose when I uploaded my memories of the attack.”
“Understood.” Releasing the button, Bei rocked back on his heels. The transmission would be heard by everyone on the ship. Already, he felt a stirring in cyberspace as his men began to hunt the renegade code and eliminate it. The clever son-of-a-bitch had attacked on two fronts, and tried to turn Bei against his own men. That would not happen.
Rome fiddled with the power switch of his energy rifle, switching it from stun to kill then back again.
The door opened. The overhead lights reflected off the corrugated metal wainscoting and lightened the burgundy paint. More children beamed from the LCDs adorning the wall at regular intervals. Bei moved forward.
Rome delayed their exit by setting his hand on Bei’s arm. “Admiral, if you’re going to do anything stupid…”
Bei smiled before stepping onto the tan carpeted hallway. Leave it to his cohort to ask to go along on a suicide mission. Then again, Bei also knew the chief was a bit nuts. “I’ll be sure to invite you along.”
“If this is about rescuing Nell, sign me up.” Shang’hai rounded the corner. A braid of white fiber optic cables trailed from her short pink hair down her back. She looped her arm through Bei’s as she fell into step. “I don’t want to miss the fun.”
Bearing to the left at the fork in the hallway, Bei spied the faux mahogany panels. His heart beat an irregular tempo before his interface compensated. Once his executive officers heard his news would they still be set on rescuing Nell, or would they demand her termination?
Without betraying his thoughts, he followed Shang’hai and the Chief into the conference room, and then stopped under the arched entrance. A border of carved rosettes topped the six foot tall paneling. Bei ran his hand over the gleaming, polished surface. Real cherry wood.
Chief Rome nudged Bei. “Check out the floor. If that’s not quarried marble from the European Consortium, I’ll eat my fingers.”
Bei glanced down. Black and gold veins infused the glossy white squares. Quarrying marble had been outlawed in 2083. Obviously, the Supreme Council considered themselves above such trifles as the law. “I think your fingers are safe.”
Bei inhaled a steadying breath and detected a hint of leather. His attention focused on the padded, high back chairs and their dark brown upholstery. His fingers sunk into the supple material as he pulled out the chair at the head of the long, oval table. Genuine cowhide, another forbidden luxury. His hands shook with anger. Once this mess was settled, Bei would send pictures of these accommodations back to all of Earth’s news networks and the backdoor codes to all the Council’s private files. Since the citizens viewed the Syn-En as little more than machines, it was apt revenge to turn their trusted machines against them.
Commander Keyes’s curly brown hair bounced as she finished running cables to the block of LCDs at the end of the table and caught Bei’s eye. “Just one last check and we’ll be ready.”
“Admiral.” Amazon Petersburg, captain of the America, walked into the conference room. When she held out her hand, the cuffs of her sky blue air support uniform rode up her thin arms to expose the coppery skin of her wrists. “Nice to have you aboard. On behalf of the fleet, I want you to know we stand ready to retrieve Nell Stafford.”
“Thank you.” Bei shook her hand before gesturing to the seat on his left. If those who had never met Nell offered their lives for her, how would they feel once they met her, heard her laugh or saw her smile? He set his palms on the wooden conference table to steady them.
XO Penig quickly entered and lowered himself into the seat on Bei’s right. Smoothing the fringe of white hair circling his pink scalp, he smiled. “Whatever it takes, we’ll get her back.”
Bei nodded and motioned for the America’s remaining three officers to sit, then watched Shang’hai and Commander Keyes take the remaining two chairs. The bank of screens filling the wall at the end of the rectangular room flashed blue then subdivided into quadrants, each filled with the executive staff of the fleet ships.
“Whatever it takes, Admiral,” each officer vowed as he or she signed on with their rank and name.
Chief Rome boosted himself onto the granite countertop of the wet bar to the right of the table. “The civilians are screaming for blood. They want Nell back.”
Bei stared at the five people in the room before facing the camera lens rising from the center of the oval table. “As you know, we’ve been infiltrated by this man. Since we don’t know his name, I’ll call him Bastard.”
Ignoring the keyboard tucked under the maho
gany tabletop, Bei entered the WA and retrieved the image from Doc’s memory clip. The spherical holographic projector dropped from a cubbyhole in the ceiling and displayed the man in three dimensions in the middle of the table.
“Bastard has a neural interface and is capable of overcoming our firewalls to incapacitate us. He’s killed before.” Bei brought up the crime scene photos from the Starflight 1. The decomposition exaggerated the violence done to the twelve corpses. Revulsion rippled through his men, transforming to anger when the display of Faso’s remains appeared.
XO Penig leaned closer to the hologram. His frown cut deep grooves alongside his mouth. “Didn’t they display heads on poles during the Dark Ages as a warning to others?”
Bei watched the faces of his men as they digested Bastard’s message. He relaxed when resolve settled over their features. The warning had turned into a challenge—one no Syn-En would back down from. Too bad, Bastard had his own allies. “Chief, perhaps you’d like to update us on your investigation.”
Chief Rome slid off the wet bar and paced the space behind Bei. The camera tracked his movements. “From what we’ve discovered, Bastard doesn’t have any synthetic enhancements. Or if he does, they’re biologically based. It’s important to note that none of his victims had defensive wounds. That includes Faso.”
Bei allowed the silence to stretch as each digested the new information. From the chief’s facts to Bei’s deductions was a big leap. Would his men take it? He couldn’t blame them if they didn’t. All he had to back up his theory was gut instinct. If only Bastard hadn’t erased Doc’s scan of Nell’s brain.
If onlys never won the war. Bei drummed his fingers on the tabletop. It was equally unlikely that his ‘proof’ would either. “I have reason to believe that Nell and this man were supposed to be paired together.”
Chief stopped pacing. Shock flashed in his eyes. “But she’s here to save us.”
“I believe she’s here to save whoever is on that planet.” Bei brought up the image of Terra Dos, now a small black dot against the yellow halo of the system’s sun. Next, he split the hologram and selected the appropriate image from Nell’s and his shared dream. While waiting for the file’s registration to be noticed, Bei allowed his officers’ astonishment to wash over him.
On his left, Captain Petersburg leaned forward. Her black eyes focused on the backward joints of the projected humanoids. “Isn’t that a dream file?”
“It is.” Bei increased the size of the numeric stamp so everyone could see it had once belonged to him.
Chief Rome crossed his arms and snorted. “You’ve been dreaming of ET when you’ve had Nell in your arms.”
Bei felt the doubts creep into the WA. Did his men think he’d lost his mind? Hell, maybe he had. Opening his cerebral protocols for those assembled, he dared them to find the flaw in his logic.
“They’re not exactly dreams.” Clearing away the image of the alien, Bei brought up the chart of his brain activity matching the time stamp of ET’s image. The graphs of his alpha and delta waves lay far outside the norm. “I’m being fed information through my cerebral interface. Or more accurately, I think the information was meant for Nell, but I picked up on it.”
XO Penig leaned back in his chair and rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “Do you have anything else to support this?”
“No.” Bei relaxed his features, knowing any show of emotion would erode his support even further. One by one, he met and held the gazes of those at the table. He recognized their fear and disbelief and felt the echo of their need to believe in Nell. Yet, he could not allow them to dismiss the evidence before them. Their lives depended on it.
The doors to the conference room snicked open. Grimacing, Doc strode to the chief’s side at the wet bar. “Sorry for the delay, but I have evidence supporting the admiral’s theory. While scanning Nell, I discovered more than just her cranium had been modified. Her reproductive system has begun to release eggs. There are thirty-two haploid chromosomes in each one. She’s a breeder, and it’s not of humans.”
Bei felt his insides knot. A breeder. Someone designed to seduce. Could Nell’s cerebral interface have seduced him, fed him codes much like the Bastard’s, only this time designed to get Bei to mate with Nell? Memories of their weeks together unfolded in his mind. How much of it was real and how much programmed? Bei gripped the wood table so hard, splinters fanned under his fingers. Could Nell be programmed to fall in love with Bastard?
Strands of genetic material twirled above the conference table. Two merged into the familiar double helix. “From here, I built a probable phenotypic expression of Nell’s altered progeny. It wasn’t until I saw the admiral’s dream that the predicted image made sense.”
The image of a backward jointed, double thumbed humanoid whirled above the table. The picture from Bei’s dream had a ninety-nine percent probability of matching the DNA’s expression.
Chief Rome picked up his rifle and set the switch to kill. “What’s wrong with their legs?”
“The joints are reversed, probably giving them superior strength, perhaps in response to a stronger native gravity.” Doc made the humanoid depiction crouch then spring. “Their strength would be comparable to ours on Earth.”
Chief Rome whistled through the gap in his front teeth.
Damn. Bei flexed his synthetic limbs. How much of that strength did Bastard possess?
Penig tugged on his ear. “You know, I’ve always wanted to meet ET.”
Captain Petersburg flashed her white teeth. “Do you think we should tack a ‘please’ to our demand to give us Nell or else?”
Bei relaxed as his men slipped into gallows humor. Although they had to know they faced a formidable force, none considered backing down.
Shang’hai laughed. “Hell, given that we’re moving in with ET, I think it’s only polite that we show our manners.”
Chief Rome snorted while flashing his energy rifle and knife. “Would they be the ones born in steel, plasma or projectiles?”
Bei waited until the laughing tapered off. He hated to ruin their good mood, but they were nearing the eleventh planet in the system. “We need to consider that Bastard’s flight has triggered a defensive net. His obvious destination doesn’t make sense unless he believes only they will arrive.”
Chief Rome grimaced and propped a hip against the wet bar. “Shit.”
Captain Petersburg tucked her black hair behind her ear. “We’ve no probes left.”
“Shang’hai and Keyes get with Doc and figure a way around Bastard’s cerebral blitz.” Bei nodded. He’d already accessed all available stores and knew exactly what was at his disposal. He also knew that the fleet needed to reach Terra Dos soon, if any of them were to survive. “As for the fleet, we’re going to do this the hard way. Nebula ships will guard our flanks. The Starflights and Orions will protect the America. Beagles will take point, sweeping every planet, asteroid and moon between us and our new home.”
After confirming their orders, the executive staff signed off and the block of LCDs went black.
Bei displayed the fleet’s telemetry through the holographic projector. Two dart-like Beagle ships broke away from the pack aiming for the tenth planet. “Radio contact every minute, Alpha Beagles. I want to know if ET laid out the welcome mat or crossfire.”
The Vade Mecum contains all the battle tactics
known to man.
Only the technology used to implement them will change.
Syn-En Vade Mecum
Chapter Eighteen
Bei paced the America’s circular bridge. The utilitarian space suited his mood and the mission more than the opulence of the conference room. Following the white, curving wall, he walked in a fixed orbit around the helm in the center of the room, mirroring the movement of planets and moons in the holographic projection above the helm. Squeezing and releasing his fingers in time to his steps, he chaffed at the passage of time. Six hours of creeping along the solar system like cockroaches waiting for darkn
ess before venturing into the world.
And they still had millions of kilometers to travel.
For a moment, his control failed and his thoughts turned to Nell. Was she well? Had the bastard hurt her? Could her neural link have turned her into an automaton, responding only to wishes of an alien race?
The sensors in his fingers tingled from the compression of his grip. He pivoted on his heel and joined Captain Petersburg and XO Penig at the helm.
The bright fiberoptic can lights overhead glared off the XO’s bald head. “Helium-3 won’t be a problem. That last planet had enough to power our engines for several lifetimes.”
Captain Petersburg pointed to the holographic image of a small moon orbiting a gas giant. “Neuron spectroscopy indicates this satellite is almost entirely ice.”
“So, that takes care of water and fuel.” Penig pinched his bottom lip in thought. “As for food… We could trade for supplies until we get on our feet.”
Captain Petersburg snorted. “That’s assuming ET is willing to trade, and thinks we have anything of value in return. Those are not odds anyone with a working statistic calculator would take.”
Bei watched the hologram of the planetary system. “We don’t have enough rations to find another world, nor room to grow anything to augment what little stores we have left.”
He focused on the fourth planet from the sun. Terra Dos. The Syn-En had no choice. They needed to live on that world, make it their own before starvation overtook them. “Judging from its orbit, we should be able to land in the Northern Hemisphere and plant crops right away. Our supplies should last until the first harvest.”
“If everything goes well.” Captain Petersburg frowned and tucked her hair behind her ears. “We’re soldiers, not farmers.”
She’d missed the obvious, the reason they were here. Bei shook his head. “We’re survivors.”
“Aye.” XO Penig set both hands on the metal lip of the round helm control hub and leaned toward the hologram projected from its center. “I’ve given you a list of civilians with agricultural experience. We lost the farming machinery when the Starfarer went down. Engineering is trying to come up with a plan to convert our ships into plows, reapers, harvesters, etc. It’ll take time to make the changes, since the ships are currently in use.”
The Syn-En Solution Page 26