Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins

by Linda Andrews

  “Maybe if she squeezed her fist the blood will flow.” Doc flicked the tube.

  “My blood’s not flowing?” Nell spied the needle sticking half in/half out of her arm. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she switched her focus to the tube. A licorice whip of pink, sparkly blood ended halfway between her arm and the reader. “My blood’s not flowing.”

  She tapped the line. The ribbon surged forward once. Twice. The blood disappeared inside the analyzer. The tube shot out with a pop. Pink dots dribbled on the table, ran in beads to her arm, and were absorbed by her sleeve. A spark shot out of the analyzer port. The screen cracked. The casing top rocketed to the ceiling. Smoke perfumed the air with burnt electrical parts.

  Bei folded the end of the tube, saving her blood, then removed the needle from her arm.

  She held the gauze in place with her finger and raised her arm straight up to stop the bleeding.

  “Try that again.” Shoving the spare recorder at Bei, Doc swiped the ruined one off the table.

  Its plastic body crunched then sprayed gray pieces across the floor. A circuit board spun until it hit a chair leg.

  Holding the end over the analyzer’s inlet, Bei squeezed a drop from the tube. The pink bead hit with a sizzle and hiss. A cursor blinked on the analyzer screen then smoke puffed from the seams of the medical unit.

  “I killed it.” Nell shivered. “What do we do now?”

  Doc slapped his hand on his bald, silver head. “I don’t know. Without the med units, I don’t see how I can make enough antibodies for everyone to fight the infection.”

  Bei plucked two spare batteries from the supplies. “I can maintain cohesion for another two hours, six minutes. What about you?”

  Cohesion? The word surfed across her skull but didn’t quite penetrate. Her husband couldn’t mean what she thought. He couldn’t be on the verge of coming unglued, could he? She bit her tongue to keep from asking.

  “Two hours, ten minutes.” Doc’s shoulders bowed. “I’ll take her sample to the shuttle. Maybe the shipboard lab will be a little more robust.”

  “I’ll have everyone fall back there, cut out the distribution lag.” Bei slipped another battery under his skin. “We’ll prioritize by time remaining.”

  Oh, no. Oh, hell no! They would not talk about dying. Nell slapped the table. “What about a transfusion? I’ll give everyone a bit of my blood. I’m type O. That’s a universal donor, right?”

  “Between the NDA and the fermites, giving anyone your blood would be akin to them mainlining nitroglycerin.” Doc pushed to his feet. Swaying, he braced a hand on the table. “I’ll head back to the shuttle.”

  He staggered from their table to the next one.

  Hustling to his side, Nell propped him up. “How are you going to climb the stairs in your condition?”

  Doc’s mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile. “I’m overriding safety protocols. Adrenalin hits will keep me going.” He shoved off her touch and shook his head. “Hey, that charge just gave me another five minutes.”

  “But—” She stalked after him. Stubborn pig-head.

  “Nell.”

  She glanced at her husband. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Bei wobbled on his feet. Soldier straight and tempered steel, determination blazed brighter than the light on his silver contours. “Gather the others. Meet us on the stairs.”

  She dragged in a breath. While they worked their way toward the shuttle, she’d find Davena. Maybe the oracle knew the key to getting the fermites to heal, to fix the mess the atomic pests had created. “I’ll meet you by the waterfall.”

  Turning on her heel, she pushed through the crumbling vines. She hated following orders, especially when he made her sit on the sidelines while he played with his life. What was the point of being a universal-class freak, if she couldn’t use her superpowers? She glared at her hands. Of course, her superpowers were currently on vacation, so maybe he had a point.

  Not that she’d tell him.

  He had a habit of gloating. She checked left then right. Closed doors crenelated the wall. Okay, if I were a featherheaded Skaperian and two scared Humans, which room would I choose? She could ask, but maybe her husband wanted her gone for a while so he could retain a little of his pride.

  Doc swore. Bei added to the string of inventive curses.

  Then again… She could make it up to his pride later. They needed a cure now. “Where are their rooms?”

  “To the right.” Doc’s voice shook.

  Spinning on her heel, she headed in the appropriate direction. Glass windows opened unto the kitchens. Tiles gleamed on the walls. Steel pots formed towers on open shelves and gleaming pans hung from racks. Stacks of sunny yellow plates stood sentinel on the far counter. Water dripped from the faucet. She paused. She’d turn it off later. Time counted down in mushrooming pustules.

  She reached for the chrome knob of the first door on her right.

  Another latch clicked farther down the hall.

  Leaning back, she eyed the corridor. “Apollie?”

  Fabric swished. A sliver of darkness carved up the white expanse of walls and blue doors. Someone was up.

  “Karl? Erin?” Nell jogged down the hallway, passed one set of closed doors. Two. Four. Six. She slowed at the seventh set, not even winded. The NDA or fermites? Either way she was grateful.

  The ninth door creaked open a little more.

  The hair on the back of her neck tingled. “Hello?”

  Someone coughed inside.

  She shook her head. She was being silly. The only ones here were Bei, Doc, Apollie, Karl, Erin and herself. She pushed the door open the rest of the way.

  A dark figure shivered on the bed in the center of the room.

  Nell stepped inside. “Apollie?”

  The door slammed behind her and the light switched on.

  Startled, she whirled about. Her heart played her ribs like a xylophone.

  Rayem leaned against the door. His white beard swirled like nimbus clouds over his chest. His pants and legs ended above his knees.

  She wasn’t lucky enough to be seeing ghosts. Deep inside her, she suspected he was the one Human not like the others. “You’re made of fermites.”

  He nodded.

  “If you’re going to continue your silent treatment, let me know. In case, you haven’t figured it out, my friends are dying.” She stormed to Apollie’s side.

  Braids lay like pretzels around her head. Pustules formed nobs on her pale face. Blood wept from her cracked skin. Heat radiated from her body.

  Nell freed a bead from an oozing scab. “Do you need water?”

  Apollie’s red eyes glazed over. Her lips were dry petals.

  “I’ll get you some water.” Nell skirted Rayem to reach the sink tucked into the corner. Berries rotted in a mug next to the cold water tap. She tossed the goo in the sink and rinsed out the cup. “Were there fermites in the berries, too?”

  “They are everywhere.”

  She filled the cup and screwed off the tap. “And they activated the latent virus?”

  “In your people, yes.” Rayem drifted closer. “Davena told you, violence had consequences.”

  “Then what will be the consequence to your kind?” Sitting on the bed, Nell dribbled water into Apollie’s mouth. “You’ve sentenced everyone to a violent death.”

  The paladin sucked greedily at the moisture.

  “We are not violent.” He laced his hands in front of his body. “We work with nature. We keep the balance”

  “You’re delusional.” Using the corner of the blanket, Nell dried Apollie’s cheeks. “We’d already been exposed and recovered, or were inoculated against it. You reinfected us, on purpose.”

  “You are not infected.” His hands were bound birds fluttering at the ends of his thin arms. “You are not sick.”

  “And it doesn’t help anyone. My antibodies were supposed to cure everyone, keep them healthy.” She tucked the blanket around Apollie. “But you and
your fermite friends blew up our equipment. Violently, I might add.”

  Rayem’s white caterpillar eyebrows kissed above the bridge of his nose. “You came expecting to become infected?”

  “Yes.”

  “You could have died.”

  “I was the best hope my friends had for a cure.” Instead, she would have to watch them die. Life sucked, then everyone but her dissolved in a fermite haze. Of course, the Founders would fix that once they sterilized the planet. Shrugging, Nell scooted off the bed. She’d give Apollie another cup of water, then start pumping her full of meds for the long slog to the shuttle.

  “You would sacrifice yourself to save your friends?”

  “Of course.” And Bei. She’d do anything to save her husband. Including… Her attention snapped to Rayem. “Why? And don’t tell me you’re just making conversation. This is some sort of test, isn’t it? How interesting is my potential?”

  Rayem smiled.

  Her skin crawled. “What do you want in exchange for allowing me to heal my friends?”

  “Is she your friend? Didn’t she try to kill you?” Rayem cocked his head.

  Nell refilled the cup. “Yes and yes, and we got over that last part. We’re not slaves to violence. We use it as a tool of last resort. Unlike how you use your fermites.”

  Rayem tucked his hands up his sleeves. Half of his thighs drifted away in wisps of glitter. “If we allowed you this cure, you could activate the virus in others, killing your enemies with a thought to keep your family safe.”

  “I would not!” She slammed the mug on the counter by the sink. “I lived through it the first time. I saw what it did. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  “Most interesting. Perhaps those with you would use it to such an effect.”

  “They wouldn’t. Bei and his men are more protective of life than anyone I’ve ever known. Besides, if I thought the Syn-en would ever unleash their inner psycho, I’d make sure there was no trace of the virus for them to work with.”

  “We shall allow your use.” In a cyclone of glitter, Rayem drifted toward the door.

  Nell blinked. Hope beat sharp wings inside her. “Seriously?”

  The fermites better not be Indian givers.

  “Yes, seriously.”

  She rushed to Apollie’s side. “How does it work?”

  “That is for you to decide.” The door swung open before Rayem reached it.

  Her jaw dropped. “Speaking in enigmas is one of the reasons there are no wizards left on Earth.”

  Rayem’s head floated like an untethered balloon. “Each oracle accesses us differently. Davena uses music.”

  Music. Okay. Nell cracked her knuckles. Music and touch. She set her hands on Apollie’s hip and shoulder. Touch was covered, now for the music. Her mind blanked, then a single song bobbed on the emptiness. It carried with it memories of doing homework in front of the TV, of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and of her family around her, keeping her safe. Oh, God. Not that one. If word ever got out…

  Apollie moaned.

  Fine. Nell knew when she was beaten. She hummed the words to Gilligan’s Island. Her stomach tingled then caught fire. Heat roiled through her, bubbled through her limbs, and poured out her fingertips. Save my friends, save the people, save Bei.

  Fermites swarmed down the hall and fell on a glittering blanket over Apollie. Her skin sparkled, cleared of buboes.

  Nell sensed the receding tide of the disease. She dug deeper, sending more healing fermites out of the sheltering mountain, to the Syn-En on the planet.

  Bei shouted, “Nell!”

  Her batteries pegged zero then registered full. She’d done it. Her friends were safe. A yawning chasm opened and she topped into it. Landing not in a void, but on a deserted isle with coconut cream pies, Bei, and a radio that never ran out of batteries.

  Chapter 23

  “Looks like your wife has charmed the fermites into working for her.”

  At Doc’s words, Bei glanced at his arms, wrapped around the stair railing. The liquid silver NDA gelled to flesh-colored skin. A light dusting of hair sprouted down his forearms just as creases marked the location of his joints. Follicles reactivated on his head, his energy levels spiked to normal, and his uniform emerged. “My wife is very charming.”

  But what had this new ability cost her?

  Bei glanced at the ground floor landing, then down at the communal dining area. Dead leaves, rotting fruit, and yellow vines dissolved in a twinkle. His cardiac sensors tripped. Fermites spread everywhere then nowhere. The last time she’d commanded them on such a scale, Nell had nearly succumbed to fatal errors. His grip tightened on the bannister. It bent to fit the curve of his palm.

  Sighing, Doc glanced at the long hallway leading outside. “I would offer to check on her while you try to contact the shuttles, but I know you won’t be satisfied until you see Nell Stafford with your own optics.”

  Damn right he wouldn’t, but he also knew his duty. Turning on his heel, he descended two steps at a time. His prostheses responded with ease; the magnified effects of gravity caused by the illness had vanished. When he opened a link with the WA, the dining area darkened. Everyone report in.

  Pixelated versions of his men materialized in cyberspace. Missing chunks in their avatars slowly filled in. All Syn-En were present, reported their infection, and their miraculous recovery.

  Doc’s goateed avatar ran around to each and double-checked their health status. What about Davena and… and the villagers? Are they recovering, too?

  Medic Brooklyn fuzzed a little when he divided his attention between the WA and the outside world. Looks like no one was infected, Doc.

  I’m not picking up any residual virus. Medic Queens bumped Brooklyn to the side. And the villagers seem to be doing what they usually do—baking, fishing, grinding corn, and swimming.

  Brooklyn’s avatar pointed beyond the realm of cyberspace. “I think she’s skinny dipping.”

  “Where?” Queens rose on his toes and peered over his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah. She’s naked.”

  Now, Bei remembered why he’d stuck the two twenty-somethings in the medical corps—they couldn’t get their minds off the female anatomy. Crossing the dining area, Bei sent a lightning bolt through the WA. It hit near their feet and sprayed them with sparks. The mission isn’t over.

  Both medics yelped and jumped back. Their presence in cyberspace solidified. Yes, Admiral, they chorused. Red auras encompassed them both.

  Security Officer Richmond Virginia covered her smile before ducking her head. We located the Scraptor Piece of Shit shuttle.

  A hologram filled the space between Bei and his men. Green velvet hills buckled the planet’s surface. Evergreens filled the valleys like pickets of bottle brushes. Rivers trimmed the edges of hills in blue and white ribbons. The black pillar jutted from the ground in the right-hand corner of the projection.

  Marching forward, Richmond poked her index finger near a waterfall. This is where you marked the position of the bodies. A green bubble floated just above the cliff. A line of red dashes led to the left, blue ones out to the right. Following Paladin Apollie’s assumption that the Scraptors came from the west, we began our search in these grids.

  A lattice of intersecting lines overlaid the topographical map.

  Striding closer, Brooklyn flicked his wrists. The image zeroed in on a hilltop twenty klicks North by Northwest. They didn’t even try to hide their ship.

  On the apex, a suppository-shaped shuttle listed to the right. Deformed landing gear accounted for the slant, not the terrain. Scorch marks blackened the cylinder’s sides and dents pounded the hull. Gaps appeared along the ship’s seams and gas hissed out the sides.

  Queens magnified the area again. And they should have hidden that piece of space junk, if they had a microgram of Scraptor pride. They do not take care of their tech.

  The assembled medics and security detail shook their heads. A red haze tinged the WA. The first lesson a
Syn-En learned was to take care of his tech, failing to do so often proved a fatal mistake.

  Reaching the hallway, Bei turned to the right. He’d bet his upgrades his wife was in the room with the open door. He shifted his attention back to cyberspace. With the display in his avatar’s hands, he turned the projection one hundred-eighty degrees. Queens and Brooklyn, take up positions here and here. Blue dots nestled in the pines. I want to know if they’re infected or recovering from the Plague, and when the ship is preparing for take-off.

  Aye, sir. We’ll be there in thirty. The two avatars dissolved but a pair of floating ears indicated that the duo still listened.

  Humming drifted out the open door. Voice imprint identified it as Nell’s. Occasionally, a word bobbed on the melody. Ship. Tour. Professor.

  The connection was obscure to the point of nonexistent. Had using the fermites damaged his wife’s sensibilities? Increasing his pace, Bei assigned the medics tasks then focused on his four security officers. Did you perform ground penetrating scans before your infection?

  Richmond grabbed a hilltop and pulled it toward her. The projection flew across the landscape. The Scraptor ship disappeared. The waterfall drifted past. She slowed ten klicks from the scene of the massacre. Tunnel entrances burrowed into the base of the mountains. Rising on tiptoe, she elevated the ground level above their heads. Your instincts about underground facilities were spot on.

  Gray and white blocks filled the spaces under the hills. Small cubes appeared at intervals along the long entryway.

  Richmond tapped the small rooms. I’m thinking these are pinch points in case the base is attacked or infiltrated.

  Bei’s avatar nodded. Who would attack the Founders this far inside their territory?

  Doc’s avatar became transparent. I’d like to meet the Founders’ enemy. Ask them to join our alliance.

  Bei shifted the brunt of his consciousness into the shelter and entered the room.

  Smiling, Nell stood next to Apollie’s bed. She swayed on her feet as she hummed. Fermites misted the room, ran in rivulets down the walls, and twinkled on the Skaperian’s body.

  Apollie blinked at him over the top of her blanket. “You’ve got to get her to stop.” She slapped her arms before wrapping herself tighter in the bed covering. “She’s removing my battle scars.”