Syn-En: Registration (14 page)

Bei didn’t plan to be hunted for an hour, let alone a day. “They’ll stop looking for us after the cave-in.”

Especially if a few Scraptor guards perished in it.

Job paled. “A cave-in?” His voice rose an octave before it dropped to a raspy whisper. “Have you lost your mind? You could take out the whole mine!”

“I studied the mine’s schematics and the engineering reports.” The real ones, not the ones shown to the investors. The Scraptor guards carefully documented all potential escape routes to the surface. “You’ll be safe, just keep your people off level two-zero-six.”

“You should use two-zero-nine, not six. Six will take you to the surface. Even if the Scraptor’s scans don’t find you, you’ll need food and water.” Job shook his head. “The zero-nine tunnels will take you to other mining systems. Some run under embassies. All of them have pipes that you can tap into.”

“Sounds like you’ve given escape some thought.”

“When the Surlat strain struck, many embassies were abandoned.” Job glanced at the door. His eyes narrowed when Abraham entered, and he lowered his voice. “There were rumors that Humans had survived the outbreak and lived there. As free people. For a while, one or two people would disappear from the clan, never to return. We’d hoped…”

Bei knew all about the double-edge of hope. “What happened later?”

“People came back. In pieces.” Job sighed, seemed to shrink in on himself. “The surface is dead. And the tunnels now hold no secrets from the Scraptors. There’s nowhere we could run.”

“Fourteen more shifts and you won’t have to run.”

Job pushed off the boulder. “Soon is not today. And if the Scraptors suspect you might succeed, they could move us to the far reaches of the Founding Five’s territory. It would be years before we were freed, if at all.”

“I’ll find you.” Bei handed him the bowl of half-eaten soup.

Accepting it, Job allowed his lips to curve into a smile. “You’re a good man.” His mouth opened and closed. “I don’t even know your name.”

A man, not a Syn-En. Bei sat up a little straighter. “It’s Beijing.”

“Like the village in the Orient?”

“You know of it?” Surprise spiked through Bei’s system. Just how long ago had the Deutche clan been taken?

Job threw back his head and laughed. He still grinned when he faced Bei. “Fourteen generations ago, my Earth ancestors set sail to Beijing. They intended to spread the word of God to the heathens, but found themselves captured by the Skaperians and sold as labor. Perhaps this is a sign that we have not been forsaken after all.”

“Perhaps.” Bei didn’t understand humans’ obsession with signs. Nell had… He shut down the thought.
Later. When his limbs bordered on obsolescence and his software could no longer be upgraded.

“How do you plan to cause the cave-in? The Scraptors only give us the explosives we need for the next section.”

“What’s given to us is carefully measured. What’s stored is not.” Bei had already calculated how many bricks he’d need to liberate from the munitions depot. Getting in and out would be easy, especially as a computer guarded the storage unit. He’d already accessed it once before the anti-virals had appeared.

“Just don’t get cocky and miscalculate.” Swirling the bowl, Job sauntered back to the main group.

“I won’t.” Bei saluted his back. He even knew how he’d fool the Scraptors. He’d switch his armor to camouflage just before the explosion and fool ET into thinking he’d disappeared in all the dust. Just like in those old video clips. Just…

Bei slid off the rock and landed with a thump on the ground. His arteries pounded in his throat. Those old video clips… Nell loved them, got her crazy ideas from them. Could she have… He opened his interface.
Show me the seconds before the
Icarus’s
explosion. Frame by frame.

It had to be there. Please let it be there.

Aye, Admiral
. The interface’s feminine voice sounded just a bit smug inside his head.
I believe this is what you are looking for.

A beam of light cut through the
Icarus’s
beetle-shape.

The energy weapon should cut at least a meter in front of the fusion reactor. The ship would have been sliced in half but wouldn’t have exploded. But was he seeing what he wanted, or reality? Only one way to find out.
Overlay ship’s schematics.

His interface complied.
The Scraptor’s energy weapon would not have hit fusion reactors.

The images marched slowly onward. The beam of light sinking millimeter by millimeter into his ship’s hull.
Come on, Nell. Come on.

The
Icarus
listed to the right, placing the bay doors out of the attacker’s visual range.

I believe this is when Nell Stafford ejected the fusion reactor.
The interface froze the frame and an arrow appeared in the ten o’clock position, highlighting a pyramidal shape that hadn’t been there, but could belong to a disconnected fusion reactor.

Once the scene began to replay, the
Icarus
dissolved from the frames.

Then the energy weapon hit the reactor.

Bei clamped his hand over his mouth. She’d done it! His beautiful, crazy wife had done it! He’d kill her for activating the cloaking device so late… Right after he kissed her.

I have deleted these three frames from the Scraptor’s database and have renumbered their footage.

Thank you.
Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the boulder. Nell was alive and free. Why hadn’t his interface told him earlier? But he knew. His damn programming kept disturbing thoughts out of a soldier’s mind during battle mode to help maintain focus and win battles.

And he’d found the thought of his wife’s death very disturbing.

Which was why he’d switched to battle mode. He’d outsmarted himself. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Computer, you don’t have to keep good news from me. Ever.

Aye, Admiral. Adapting subroutines.

Footsteps grew louder. Someone approached. Light steps, but sure of their placements. One of the children, no doubt. Bei restarted the data stream where the ship disappeared. It was a beautiful sight. He’d never get tired of looking at it.
Give me possible safe havens for the
Icarus
without her fusion reactor.

Analyzing.

“I’ve got your bread.”

He opened his eyes, scattering the image of the
Icarus
. “Hello, Ruth.”

Raising her hand, she held out a piece of flatbread. “I wouldn’t let Dietrich serve you. I wanted to do it myself.”

Bei accepted the round. Warmth seeped into his fingers. His sensors registered the contents. Flour with liberal amounts of pebbles and weevils. His stomach nearly opened up his chest and jumped out. No way could he eat it. “Still hot, I see.”

Nodding, she plopped down on the ground next to him. “And delicious.” She rubbed her belly and smacked her lips.

One brown bug wiggled out of the warm dough and crawled over the surface. He could squash the bug, but the girl needed the protein. He scanned the crowd.

The old man picked something out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. Others in the clan followed suit. Chewed while they laughed.

Bei’s enhanced optics identified the prizes as bugs.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Ruth grabbed her toes and rocked her body back and forth. Her eyes remained fixed on the bread.

Her hunger became an entity between them.

He handed her the bread. “Actually, I’d rather sleep. Since it won’t be as good cold, could you eat it?”

Drool bubbled in the corners of her mouth, but she shook her head. “It’s yours. You earned it.”

Stubborn little thing, but she had a code of honor. He could admire that, even as it irritated him. Well, then, there was only one thing to do. “Actually, I can’t eat it. Bread makes me sick to my stomach.”

Furrows appeared in her forehead. “But you worked so hard for it. You must want it.”

Bei swallowed a large slice of his pride. If pride was a tangible thing, his stomach would take days to digest it. “I wanted to impress your father. So he’d allow me to stay. Be part of your clan.”

“Ahh,” Ruth scratched her chin, a perfect imitation of her father. “I understand.”

Too bad, she really did. At least some childhood existed on Earth. He pushed the bread back toward her. “You eat this since it was your idea that made me work so hard.”

“Okay.” Her fingers trembled when she accepted the bread. Pulling off a piece, she caught an escaping bug between the folds and popped it into her mouth. She moaned as she chewed.

Admiral, I have the information you requested.
His interface patched in star maps, estimated fuel levels and damage inflicted on the
Icarus
.

His vision dimmed but he didn’t close his eyes.
Probable course.

Only one.
A dotted line crept across the map, leading straight to Erwar.

“I love bread.” Ruth cooed. “It’s so soft.”

Swear words flooded his head. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t curse in front of a child. But, dammit, Nell was here. On the planet. With him.
Has ET found her?

I have found no indication in any of their databases of her or the Amarook.

The feather-face would protect Nell with his life, his claws and his fangs. Unfortunately, Scraptor armor was designed specifically to mitigate any damage from an Amarook attack.

I haven’t looked for the ship using Scraptor technology as I do not wish to give her position away.

Don’t bother.
He knew where she was going, some place she’d feel safe. Someone she considered a friend. The Skaperian embassy. His plans would have to change. Again.

“Isn’t this just the best day ever?” Ruth tore the last bit of her bread in two.

“No.”

Her face fell and she squished the bite between her finger and index finger. “No?”

Bei patted her head. Sensors registered her malnourishment and stunted growth. “The best is yet to come.”

Nell was close, and he was going to find her.

Chapter 15

Nell stared at the pieces of computer parts scattered across the stone floor. Motherboards snapped in half, cables twisted and crystals cracked. Her only hope at communication destroyed. How could she contact the Syn-En fleet now?

Elvis whined and pressed against her left leg. “We’ll put it back together. Just like we do those jigsaw puzzles you have your young create.”

“No.” This was worse than those hated jigsaw puzzles. Even her trusty mallet couldn’t make these pieces fit. Plus, the parts that snapped together had crumbled. Bei could cobble together some semblance of a computer, but he’d been kidnapped.

She was on her own.

On Nell’s right, Ck’dow uttered a series of guttural clucks. Her mantis hands speared the floor, scattering chips into the mess. “Why did you tamper with the mainframe, Pet? You’ve complained for many solar cycles that you didn’t know what you were doing.”

Pet’s nostril’s flared and red stained his cheeks. “It’s just the communications relay. I should have been able to make it work. I keep this place powered, the lights on, the water running and the barrier up.”

The hair on Nell’s nape stood up. Either the man didn’t like being questioned, or he was hiding something. Probably both. Why bid for freedom, when you ruled a private kingdom?

Elvis flashed an image of himself chomping on Pet’s leg. “Taste or eat. Your choice.”

“Neither.” She appreciated the thought, but she could handle this. While she might not be able to MacGyver a radio out of the damaged parts, duct tape and bubble gum, she excelled at organization and prioritizing. As for the petty little tyrant, she’d managed a twelve man sales force. She pushed up her sleeves. “Let’s gather everything that is somewhat salvageable.”

Dropping to the floor, she sorted parts into piles. Good. Slightly damaged. And dust.

Pet added cracked boards and plugless wires to her good pile.

What an ass. Nell blew her bangs out of her eyes. She’d finish faster without his assistance, but then he might figure out she questioned his loyalties. If he thought she bought his act, she should be able to achieve her goals faster.

Ck’dow divvied up the items near her, using her arms like chopsticks to sort the questionable from the outright bad.

Elvis resorted her pile and set the useable parts out of Pet’s reach. “We shall need something to carry all of this.”

Raking the debris into a pile, Nell fished out a red crystal and held it up to the light. This one looked relatively undamaged. “Pet, what did you do with my things?”

“There.” The man pointed to the corner. An unhinged computer case leaned against a pile of black canvas.

Elvis flashed her another image of himself dismembering Pet.

So very tempting. Shoving the case aside, Nell shook her backpack free of the empty saddle bags and first aid pouch. Neat stitches closed the slash across the front of her pack. She peered inside. Empty. The jerk had stolen the contents. She tossed the bag to Elvis. “Where’s the stuff that was inside?”

A muscle flexed in Pet’s clean-shaven jaw. “I may have dropped a few things on the way.”

She set her fists on her hips. She might be blond but she possessed enough functioning brain cells to recognize a load of crap. “You dropped nothing. I walked behind you the entire time. Where are the items I packed?”

“Indeed.” Ck’dow nodded her triangular head. “You were most careful to keep everything inside the pack and head covering.”

And speaking of her head covering, Nell glanced around the room. Her helmet appeared to be missing as well. He better not have destroyed it or given it away. She’d need it for Mom to guide her to the
Icarus.

Pet leapt to his feet, crushing a good computer board before Elvis could move it out of the way. “I could trade those things for items we need.” His lip curled back. “She supposedly has a whole team with her. She must have other supplies.”