Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins by Linda Andrews Page B

single bound.” The crown melted in her palm. Metal ran like warm syrup along her wrist before subsiding under her skin. She should have asked for a bigger crown.
    A soft whirring drifted on the air, and a cold breeze stirred her cheek. What in the world?
    “The back is opening, Admiral.” Apollie sprang from her seat and landed a foot from Bei.
    “No!” The human guinea pigs, Karl and Erin, scrambled down the ladder from the deck above. “We’re not sealed in quarantine. We’ll become infected!”

 
     
     
Chapter 8
     
     
    With a thought, Bei tapped into the shuttle’s Combat Information Center. The CIC opened a digital door, allowing his avatar to walk inside. A shadow danced in his peripheral vision, there and gone before he identified it. Data packets zoomed by on streams of light. Diagnostics reported everything working at a hundred percent efficiency. His shuttle never worked at a hundred percent. “Queens, Brooklyn, I want an explanation of the shut down.”
    “Aye, Admiral.” The two Syn-En medics nodded their dark heads. Queens rushed for the ladder at the end of the crew compartment leading up to the bridge. Brooklyn ducked through the door to the engine room.
    A cool breeze slipped through the deploying aft ramp.
    Nell turned her face toward the creeping sunshine. The wind stirred her blond hair and she inhaled deeply.
    Bei bit his tongue before telling her to stop it. His wife’s infection and recovery were the point to this mission. “Doc?”
    Doc’s goateed avatar popped up next to Bei’s. It tapped into the green health feed. Home, sweet home. His pixelated man plucked on the green line. Air intakes scooped up the atmosphere. I’m filtering sixteen cubic meters per second, Admiral. No sign of the virus.
    Bei doubted their luck would hold. Dirtside missions had a way of going fubar faster than a circuit relayed information. He buzzed the com for information on the second shuttle.
    Starflight 2 skipped across the top of the atmosphere.
    He opened a channel. “ Starflight 2 switch to manual instruments before punching through the atmosphere.”
    “Aye, Admiral. Switching to manual.” Ensign Richmond spoke softly into the Com. “Will target your LZ.”
    “Expect turbulence.” Bei copied his memories of the trip down and sent it to the fledgling security officer.
    Her shock exploded like a grenade through the CIC. Holy shit! She swiftly brought herself under control. “Copy that. Hitting atmosphere in three...two...one.”
    Static crackled across the WA.
    Bei sent a prayer that no one would die today and the chariot would return empty to the beyond, then pulled his attention inside his shuttle.
    The humans, Karl and Erin huddled at the base of the ladder.
    A green beam shot out of Doc’s wrist. Fanning out, the light swept over the two. “Accelerated heart-rate, vasoconstriction, and shallow breathing.”
    Thanks to his relationship with Nell, Bei knew the symptoms well. “Anxiety.”
    Doc nodded and switched off his diag beam. “No sign of infection. Come on, you two, let’s get you locked down.”
    Erin scampered up the ladder first.
    Nell inched toward the ramp. “Do you think the Scraptors lied about the infection?”
    Bei’s systems stuttered in their own display of anxiety. He grabbed the back of his wife’s uniform, stopping her from leaving the shuttle.
    Apollie adjusted her red-speckled breastplate. “If they thought the planet was clear of infection, they would have reclaimed it years ago.”
    “I’ve got nothing.” Doc shrugged.
    Bei swore softly. Nothing didn’t help. “What can you tell me about these fermites?”
    Apollie checked the knife in her boot. “Other than what I’ve already told you?”
    “Yes.” Bei’s memories automatically recorded. He could play them back anytime he wanted.
    “Nothing. We don’t even know where they come from.” Apollie frowned. “I never would have considered that might be causing the tech failure. There doesn’t seem