Syn-En: Registration (24 page)

The little girl bit her lip before nodding. Hands lifted her up. Without a backward glance she wiggled through.

Bei strode to the front. “Stay behind me until we reach the bug-uglies. Then I want you and you,” he pointed to the two pregnant women. “to wake the other children, get them down here and to safety.”

They nodded and shifted to the side.

In the tunnel ahead, the three Scraptors continued their beat-down of Alfred and Dietrich. Both men curled into a fetal position, bloody arms wrapped around their heads.

Bei marched forward.

Job and his wife headed two lines behind him. “Do you want a weapon?”

“I am a weapon.” Bei hardened his skin, felt the plates of his neodynamic armor clamp into place.
Spines at one hundred percent strength. Charge hands, lethal plus ten level.

One bastard would die with a touch. Bei’s energy levels plunged as the charge built in his armor. Not a problem. He’d recharge as soon as the bastards fired.

Three meters away, Scraptor One caught sight of them. He paused mid-kick.

Bug-ugly two and three turned.

Bei slammed his fist into the nearest face.

Armor caved into flesh. Bubble eyes burst in sprays of green goo. The charge arced down the Scraptor’s body in spasms.

Bei pulled free with a slurping noise and stepped over the corpse. “Finish that one off.”

Scraptors Two and Three dove for their weapons.

Job and his wife hurled their rocks, pelting the bug-uglies’ armor.

More projectiles flew through the air.

Bei took one stride. Then two.

Guard Three tripped, landed on his side. He came up with his rifle. Fired.

The shot hit Bei square in the chest, burning a hole in his woven tunic. Power levels zoomed up to seventy-percent. He leapt off the ground, closing the four meters between them. “Thanks, I needed that.”

Three scrambled backward, hit the elevator wall.

More rocks flew through the air, but some of the clan stopped to finish off the first guard.

Planting his foot on the Scraptor’s chest, Bei wrapped his free hand around the muzzle of the weapon. Heat blazed through his fingers as it discharged. He absorbed the shot, filled his power cells then shunted the rest down his body. His reed shoes caught fire just as the guard began to shake.

Foam spilled out between his mandibles.

With a twist, Bei yanked on the rifle.

The guard’s arm pulled free from the shoulder socket. A sewer stench followed the pulse of green blood.

Two more shots hit Bei. He turned to the last guard. “I hope you are more of a challenge.”

The guard fired again and again. The muzzle of his weapon glowed red.

Substandard weapons. Substandard armor. Who outfitted these soldiers?

Power cells fully charged, Admiral. You can tolerate only one-point-seven-five more hits.

How was he supposed to avoid a quarter hit? Another blast burned away the front of his shirt. His synthetic skin blackened. Leaping the two meters that separated him from the last Scraptor, Bei swung bug-ugly’s arm, hitting Three’s muzzle.

The shot went wild, streaked passed Bei in a flash of yellow.

A moan followed, then a thud.

Damn, one of the clan had been hit.

Three struggled to aim again.

Bei grabbed the weapon, increased his magnetic strength and tugged.

Three lost his trigger finger along with his rifle. The guard reached for the blade at his hip.

Bei punched him in the face, snapping his head back. Before the Scraptor recovered, Bei drew his arm across his neck. His hardened spines sliced through armor and flesh like a laser through fresh snow. Foul-smelling warmth drenched his sleeve. He dialed down his olfactory settings.

Shit! It smelled like the Scraptors rotted in their armor. He tore the remains of his shirt off and tossed it onto the ground. Pivoting, he checked the damage to the clan.

Job cradled his wife. A burn marred her shoulder.

Three others hovered over Dietrich and Alfred. Neither man moved.

Bei activated his first aid program. Green light shot out of the heel of his palm. Each man had broken ribs, bruises and burns. None were fatal. But if the beating had continued…

Footsteps sounded behind him. And behind them, Bei’s audio sensors picked up the sound of pounding feet. Lots of them. A hundred sets or more. He sorted through the noise, searching for his men. The baseline was too large to discern Keyes and Rome but he knew they led the pack.

More Scraptors? Bei dipped down and picked up the guard’s rifle. The spare digit slid off the trigger as his moved in.

Children ran in front of the two pregnant women. “Someone’s coming.”

“Get to safety.” Bei raised the gun, sighting down the hall. Enhancing his optics, he picked up shadows but not solid target. “Pregnant women next, then the injured.”

Rome bounded into the puddle of light. “Miss me?”

‘Bout damn time his men arrived.

His blond hair quivered. “Where the hell is my wife?”

“Here.” Keyes shimmered into view.

A very naked Keyes.

Men and women turned to ogle.

Rome grinned then scowled. Ducking his head, he tugged his tunic over his head. “What the hell? Why are you naked?”

Keyes rolled her eyes and pulled it on. “I had to sneak out. Unlike you, I didn’t want to draw attention to my escape.”

Job pushed to his feet. He set his hand on the weapon. “You follow the children. You get them to safety and register.”

Bei held tight. Syn-Ens protected civilians, not the other way around. “Your clan will be punished for this.” He jerked his head toward the mutilated Scraptor corpses. “I cannot allow that.”

“We can hold them off. Fight them, delay them, while you run.” A muscle ticked in Job’s jaw. His knuckles shone white on the rifle. “Give us the dignity of freeing our children.”

Rome rolled his shoulders. “I can stay. Just you and Keyes can register.”

Keyes shook her head. “If you stay, so do I.”

“Our baby must be protected.”

Job cleared his throat. “You’re from Earth, only you three can register. You all must go, so one makes it through. We got this.”

Rome clamped his lips together. Keyes folded her arms over her chest.

Bei sighed. The leader was right. Dead Syn-En wouldn’t help Humanity. “Move out.”

“Make them like you. Make it so no one ever enslaves them again.” His wife picked up the whip. “And tell them what we did today.”

Bei’s eye lubricant routine malfunctioned. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his vision. Why would anyone want their child turned into a cyborg?

Around him, the men and women gathered rocks. A few picked up the discarded whips and rifles. Two pulled knives from the Scraptor’s bodies and passed them around.

Bei released the weapon. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Finger here, aim and tighten.” Job pulled the trigger. Rocks exploded from the wall near the ore cart.

“Fuck, Bei!” Rome raised his arms to protect himself from the shrapnel. “Use your damn optical upgrades.”

Bei lowered the barrel of Job’s weapon. “You’ll do fine.”

Job nodded. “I take it he’s one of yours.”

“Yes.” Bei opened a channel in the cyberspace. Static blitzed his interface. “What was that?”

Rome scooped up a toddler then a small child. “My lovely wife has taken every system offline. I appreciate her breaking me out of jail, but I would have liked to be part of the action.”

Bei watched the last of the children lifted into the passage. “How many Scraptors are chasing you?”

“They’re not all enemies.” Red tinged Rome’s skin. “I kinda brought a few people with me.”

Job fanned his people along the tunnel. “You need to leave.”

“They’re not all bad people.” Rome crossed to the elevator and ripped the control box from the wall. “Of course, there’s plenty of bug-uglies behind them. The guys didn’t take kindly to having their time in the pleasure rooms suspended.”

Bei lowered his voice. “Keep your people in a staggered line, two by a gun. If someone is hit the other can pick up the weapon.”

“I’ll do my part.” Job repositioned his line. “You do yours.”

“Once we’re registered, I will find you.” Bei offered his hand.

Job looked at it for a moment before sliding his callused palm against Bei’s. “I’m at peace with finding my freedom early.”

Rome snorted. “Don’t be so anxious to ride the chariot.” He flipped open his arm compartments. Four small black rounds filled the space. “These are a little something I made. See that brown arch?”

An ache throbbed at Bei’s temple. His chief of Security had made bombs.

Rome pointed to the protruding rock above the ore cart with one hand while placing his round explosives into Job’s palm.

Job nodded.

“Once the bachelor squad is through, hit somewhere in that area and you’ll get a nice big boom. Lots of rock, screaming, destruction.” Rome smacked his lips. “Good stuff. Make sure the bug-uglies are under it for bonus points.”

“Rome.” Bei growled.

“What? I was bored.” He handed the other four to a nearby woman.

With his penchant for improvising explosives, it was a small wonder Bei’s friend ended up in the brig. A lot. “Move out.”

“Yes, Admiral. Certainly, Admiral.” Rome sealed his arm compartments while walking toward the exit. “Oh, and don’t drop them. The bombs are a little sensitive.”

Bei scrambled up the rock behind Rome and slid into the darkness.

***

The roof of the tunnel scraped Bei’s bare back. Flat on his belly, he pulled himself along. He’d been inside for fifteen minutes and still no end in sight. Rome’s bachelor squad had joined the Deutche clan two minutes ago.

The Scraptors arrived one minutes, seven seconds later.

Because of the draft, he couldn’t detect how much blood had been spilled. But he had heard energy weapons discharging. Lots of them. Far more than what Job and his people had.

He shouldn’t have left them to fight.

“Fuck me.” In a tumble of rock, Rome disappeared.

Bei stilled. Dust pushed past him. No. No, please, don’t let him have led children and pregnant women to a dirt grave.

“Watch that last step, Bei.” Rome coughed. “It’s a doozy.”

Bei reached into the darkness, groped along the ground and pulled himself along. Another two feet and he encountered air. Light filtered through the dust. No wonder he hadn’t seen the end. The tunnel angled at seventy-five degrees, trapping the light.

Bei dove into the opening and picked up speed as he slid down. The bottom curved into a scoop and spat him out on a floor. A marble floor. Dragging his hands on the tile, he slowed to a stop.

A hand appeared in his peripheral vision. Rome’s hand. Trace explosives hid under his nails. “That was fun.”

With Rome’s help, Bei rose.

Children napped in clusters along the walls. The two pregnant women hugged four toddlers, humming a lullaby as their eyes drifted closed.

They were not fit for travel. He couldn’t leave them. Yet, he couldn’t stay if he was to complete his mission.

Warped metal doors lined the corridor. ET’s blockish wingdings marred the walls. Fiberoptic lights glowed in the ceiling tiles. Perhaps he could find another solution. “What is this place?”

“It
was
a laboratory.” Keyes ran her hand over the raised letters on the door placards.

Rome sniffed the air and grinned. “Weapons?”

“Defensive.” Keyes moved to another door. “They were working on armor improvements.” She kicked the dust. “Long, long ago.”

“A weapon has been discharged recently.” Rome rushed to his wife’s side, caught her in his arms and covered her flat stomach with his hands. “You and my child stay close. There’s no telling how an energy weapon will affect that history making bundle of cells.”

Bei sipped the air, sorted the tastes. Definitely traces of energy weapon residue.

Keyes stroked his cheek. “My half of the cells can handle a little charge. But I’ll protect your half.”

Rome buried his nose in her hair. “Protect yourself, too.”

Over the scent of human, Bei picked up the faded stench of oil. His attention dropped to the floor. The weave of children’s shoes marred the dust covered marble. His, Keyes, and Rome’s bare feet.

Scraptor boots.

The skin at the base of Bei’s neck tingled. “We’ve got company.”

Chapter 27

Okay, Mom. I’d really like to stop playing opossum and get my inner warrior princess on.
Nell stared at her pink eyelids. A smooth floor supported her scorched back. She was in a lit room. Somewhere. How she got here from the tunnels, she didn’t know. Didn’t really care just as long as Scorpio stopped shooting her. Liquid trickled down her skin. Good lord, please don’t let the room be filling with water.

She didn’t want to drown.

She didn’t want to die.

You’re hardly in a position to play warrior, Princess.

Nell grit her teeth. Or she would have, if Mom hadn’t locked down Nell’s body.
Look, I appreciate your quick thinking. Slowing down my heart rate, breathing and… and everything, fooling them into thinking I was dead. But dead is only a good thing if you can get up and run screaming into the night.

Nell replayed the thought. Why did that statement sound like she was advocating to be a zombie? She mentally slapped herself. Since they shared brain space, Mom would understand.

I didn’t shut you down, per se. The failsafe is built into the cerebral interface. If it had kicked on sooner, you might not have sustained such considerable damage.

Yep, got that the first time.
The hundredth time was just overkill.
But if I don’t get moving, the bad guys could return and make me dead forever. Besides, I’m not anxious to reunite with Scorpio. He’ll probably bring along his friend, alien anal probe.

I hardly think they are interested in probing your waste tract.

How can you say that? You’ve seen the documentaries. Too many people have experienced it. There’s truth there. Somewhere.