Showing posts with label Linda Andrews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linda Andrews. Show all posts

Friday, July 25, 2014

SYN-EN: PLAGUE WORLD by Linda Andrews

SYN-EN: PLAGUE WORLD  by Linda Andrews

The Founders War Begins

Admiral Beijing York and his cyborg soldiers have been busy rescuing refugees since Humanity registered as sentient. Their latest mission takes them deep into hostile territory to Surlat, home of the Plague that nearly wiped out all life in the galaxy.

Their mission of mercy quickly turns into one of survival. For a dark secret will be revealed, igniting a war.

Can Bei save his wife and Syn-En family, or will they become the first casualties?

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Chapter 1

“Do these patches make me look like a Guernsey cow?”

Admiral Beijing York disconnected his fiber optic cable from the communications port by his chair. He didn’t need thousands of years of warfare tactics stored in his cerebral expansion unit to recognize a trap. Swiveling in his chair, he faced his wife across their cabin. His completely naked wife. His gaze roved over the peach-toned skin. Neo-Dynamic armor glistened like a silver Phoenix up her spine. The NDA wings emphasized the curve of her firm buttocks and the damage done to her by the Scraptors.

His circuits tripped and his coding scrambled. He’d almost lost her six months ago, when humanity had visited Erwar to register as sentient. The NDA had saved her life. Bei refused to process what would have happened to him if she had died. He never wanted to eliminate the Nell Stafford glitch from his programming. Never.

Across the square cabin, Nell’s reflection scowled at him from the mirror attached to their wardrobe. “I knew it. I’m a big fat cow.” She plucked at the silvery NDA/skin patch on her left hip. “Do you want to break the terms of our marriage?”

His cardiac sensors malfunctioned. Obviously, something serious was going on in that blond head of hers. He searched his memory files for a clue while closing the distance separating them in two long strides. The starship’s nacelles hummed underfoot but barely penetrated the tension in the cabin. “Our marriage is for life. If you’d wanted a term limit to our union, you should have said so fifteen months, two weeks, three days, five hours and six minutes ago.”

Her eyes widened. “What no seconds? I really am—”

“Fifteen seconds, sixteen seconds.” Stopping behind her, he combed his fingers through her hair and exposed the column of her throat. The silky locks sifted through his hand. “You are mine, Nell. Mine.”

Lowering his head, he kissed the pulse point directly under her jaw. Sensors embedded in the NDA comprising his skin registered her rising body temperature, the stutter of her heartbeat, and her spiking pheromone production. His body responded to her biologic coding. Bei had no doubt his reactions would be the same if he were just a man, instead of a cyborg.

With a sigh, she leaned against him. Her bottom cradled his erection. One hand held his head in place; the other stroked the seam where his prosthetic leg connected to his hip.

He turned off the internal alarms caused by the sensory overload. He really should create a mating failsafe. Even though he shut down his emergency protocols and prevented cascade failures with a thought, it was one less millisecond spent focused on Nell. They had so little time to themselves as it was. He refused to waste any of it.

Her reflection’s eyes grew heavy. “So this,” she gestured to the shiny patch on her hip. “doesn’t bother you?”

Bei raised his head. His blue eyes locked with hers in the mirror. She wouldn’t let it go. Time to bring in the heavy artillery. “Does it bother you that I am more machine than man? That my legs, arms, hands, and feet can snap together or apart like Twentieth Century Legos? That I have circuits implanted in my head, and my chest cavity opens up like some battery compartment in an ancient gaming controller.”

“No, why would you think such things?” She spun about, plastering her body against his.

Tight nipples and soft breasts pressed against his chest. His sensors recorded each point of contact. Every time they touched was the same but different. And down lower… When he sank into her, he would be in heaven. He locked his facial muscles, revealing nothing. “We both have NDA for skin. Why would yours bother me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Unlock your facial muscles, Beijing York. You are not allowed to use your cyborg mojo against me.”

Damn. How had she known? He unlocked his facial muscles. His lips twitched. “Cyborg mojo? I have basic programming, the same as any Synthetically-Enhanced human.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.” She poked his shoulder.

Tenth generation upgrades contained a lot of inertia. He didn’t move, but she did. Her body wiggled creating friction, heat, and a sensory overload. He set his hands on her hips, stilling the torture. “Changing the subject is a valid military tactic.”

She poked him again. “So is staying on point. Now, do these NDA spots make me look fat?”

That question was pure quicksand. He turned it around. “You are not fat. You are beautiful. Gorgeous.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Come to bed and I’ll show you.”

Without breaking contact between their hips, he walked backward, aiming for their king-sized bed.

She followed, clutching his biceps. “Then why didn’t you just say so?”

“I had just finished reviewing room assignments for our official and unofficial passengers when I looked up and saw you naked.” His heels hit the drawer fronts on the platform bed. “The rapid switch from one program to another created a lag in my physical response.” In all areas but one. That one responded eagerly and demanded action. “I couldn’t have spoken if my life depended upon it.

“As excuses go, that’s a winner.” A smile curved her lips. She set both hands on his chest and pushed.

Releasing her, he allowed himself to fall backward. He bounced twice on the mattress before sinking into the foam. “I’m willing to do anything to make it up to you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He crooked his finger. He would start with kissing her from the crown of her hair to her toes. As for the spaces in between, he’d— He cut his plans short. She hadn’t moved from the foot of the bed. He didn’t like this anomaly in the program. He didn’t like it when she was hurting and he couldn’t fix her malfunctions.

Sucking on her bottom lip, she smoothed the silver patch at her hip.

Bei scooted to the edge of the bed. “We’re isolated from the Wireless Array, Nell.” He could no longer join her in cyberspace and explore her intimate thoughts. “You have to tell me what is bothering you.”

“Does it feel different to you?”

He traced the curve of her ribs, brushing the soft skin under her breast. Her breath quickened. Moisture created a sultry fog over her belly. Closing his eyes, he stroked her hip. Her lower body advanced and withdrew with every touch. He called up the memory file containing frigid details to cool his body. This was about his wife’s needs, not his.

She shifted.

His hand drifted toward the juncture of her thighs. He locked his arm in place. “Aside from the lack of hair, your skin doesn’t feel any different.”

It should but it didn’t. His Chief Medical Officer hadn’t been able to figure out how the armor had merged so seamlessly with her body. She commanded it at will, reshaping it as needed, and her abilities didn’t stop there. She could interact with all NDA materials. He’d had synthetic skin since he was a toddler and could only perform a fraction of what she could.

Cupping his chin, she angled his face toward hers. “You’re not just saying that?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I mean it. I’d have to maximize my sensor sensitivity to the femptometer level to detect any change.” His hands glided off her hips to caress her bottom. “Given how attuned I am to you, the sensory overload would put me in an electronic coma.”

She pushed him back on the mattress. “Would there be a bed involved?”

“Yes.” He flopped backward and waited. Nell wanted to be in charge. He’d gladly let her. Even if her imagination threatened to short circuit his implants and upgrades. “But I wouldn’t be conscious.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Bending forward, she planted her hands beside his thighs.

“No. Definitely not.” Bei curled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her. Compression alerts flared in his palms.

She set her knee on the mattress. “You have entirely too many clothes on.”

“What are you going to do about it?” It wasn’t much of a challenge. She’d mastered the task of stripping him fifteen months ago. Although now he didn’t have to move.

She cocked an eyebrow. Lifting one hand, she swirled her finger over his belly.

His clothes melted and drained like warm water over his groin, down his legs and dripped into a puddle under his bare feet where they reformed into tunic, trousers, socks and boots.

“How do you like them apples?” She blew imaginary smoke from her fingertip.

He eyed her breasts. “I know something I like better.”

“I bet I’d like it better, too.” She set her other knee on the bed. The mattress dipped as she crawled up his body

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Bei enjoy the view. The brush of her inner knees and wrists against his skin sowed rogue electrical surges through his system.

She straddled his waist, teasing him. “I saw Doc today.”

“About your NDA?” Perspiration dotted Bei’s upper lip. She was going to make him pay for not answering her question. Using an arctic subroutine wouldn’t work either. The one time he’d tried it, she’d figured it out. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

She rolled her hips. A devilish glint blazed in her blue eyes. “He gave me the all clear.”

Bei would have to replace a few cerebral circuits if she didn’t stop teasing him. He unclasped his hands. One more minute. Just one, then he’d be on top. She’d not last thirty seconds before she started begging him. “I could have told you, you’re perfect.”

Snorting, she braced her palms against his chest. “I love that you think so.” She leaned over him and nipped his ear. “But I’m saying no more alien eggs in my Easter basket. We’re a go for a baby.”

Baby? He froze. The word surfed inside his skull. Baby? Baby. The word sank in, made connections. Adrenalin spiked his system. Springing up, he wrapped her in his arms then flipped her on her back. His mouth wouldn’t stop grinning long enough to kiss her. “Our baby.”

She nodded. “Little bits of you and me and…”

“And?” He shored up his smile. What else was there to worry about?

“NDA.” She sucked on her bottom lip. Moisture shimmered in her eyes. “It’s merged with my cells. It will merge with the baby’s.”

“Oh, thank God.” Bei sagged against her. His elbows dimpled the mattress, his forehead rested against hers.

She pushed his shoulder. “What do you mean thank God? Didn’t you want an one-hundred percent biologically human baby? Aren’t you afraid of technology penalties?”

“Technology penalties are a thing of the past.” Raising up a little, he smoothed her blond hair off her face. She’d taken his fears and made them her own. That world was gone. They’d created a new one. A better one. “And the only baby I want is the one that combines a little bit of you and me. As long as the NDA doesn’t harm him or her, our baby can sparkle and glitter all he or she wants.”

She searched his face. After a moment, she sunk into the mattress. “We could name him Disco Ball. He’d be the hit of the party.”

Bei didn’t bother sending a query for the term disco ball. His wife always referenced obscure Twentieth Century culture. Of course, she understood the reference. She’d been born decades before the century ended. Then she’d slept for nearly one and a quarter centuries before waking up naked on his ship. He loved Nell naked or clothed. He kissed her forehead, then her closed eyes. “Why don’t we name our child after your parents?”

She stroked his bare back. “I would like to name our son after you.”

He snorted. “I was named after some ancient city. Two ancient cities, in fact, that identify my Eurasian heritage.” And his designation as a second-class citizen, a Syn-En. Their children would be free and enfranchised. “I want them to have regular names.”

“Stafford was the name of the area my ancestors came from.” She scratched her nails along his ribs. “How is that different?”

In more ways than he could count and in all that mattered. He rolled onto his back. Having children seemed to complicate things, when it should have drawn them together. “Stafford has been in your family for centuries. I was given my designation when my parents gave me to the United Earth government to pay their outstanding debts.”

They had kept their other children; only he had been thrown away.

Rolling to her side, Nell threw her leg over his thighs. Her pale hand settled over his heart. “So that you could meet me.” She kissed his jaw. “So that you could save the Syn-En and her support crew.” She sucked his ear lobe into her mouth and nipped it. “So that you could save two alien races from a megalomaniac, liberate humans everywhere from slavery and medical experimentation, and help other species find freedom.”

She trailed a lazy finger down his abdomen and circled his belly button.

He held his breath as she explored lower. “I’m beginning to see your point.”

“Good.” She shifted on top of him and inched down his body. “Because it’s our pasts that got us here. That made you love me and me love you. That makes us an unbeatable team.”

He clasped her hips. “You can name the children anything you want.”

So long as he could start making them now and for the next nine hours and thirty-five minutes.

“Enough foreplay. Time to—”

The com embedded by the door burped.

“Admiral York.” Captain Cassius Pennig cleared his throat.

God damn it. Ten hours alone with Nell was not too much to ask. Bei held his wife still. “Unless you’re issuing an abandon ship, Captain, I do not want to be disturbed.”

Even then, he would stay in his cabin and finish making love to his wife. They had survived the destruction of a ship before.

Nell buried her face in her hands and chuffed in frustration.

Captain Pennig sighed. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you and Nell Stafford for an abandon ship, Admiral. I simply would have ejected your cabin and had you rendezvous with the rest of us dirtside.”

Damn. Bei released Nell. Warmth lapped at his toes. NDA crawled up his body.

Groaning, she rolled to the side but clasped his hand in both of hers.

He clenched his teeth as her uniform crept up her body, covering some of his favorite bits. “Report.”

“A Founders’ ship shot out of a wormhole not more than five Astronomical Units from our position. They scanned us and are now demanding to speak to you, Admiral.”

Curses in a hundred languages filled Bei’s head. “I’ll be on the bridge in three minutes.”

“Understood.” The com fell silent.

Shoving off the bed, he strode to the nearest computer port and jacked in. A thought released his avatar in cyberspace. The pixelated version of himself unlocked the steel, padlocked door to the wireless array. Lightning bolts interspersed the torrent of data flying back and forth. Images of extinct Dobermans materialized. Black eyes and spiked collars glinted. He patted their cyber heads. “Protect us from attack.”

The dogs multiplied into hundreds and patrolled the perimeter.

Nell rested her head against his shoulder. “Do you think the Founders will attack?”

“We’re stealing their slaves when we pick up the humans from their planets. More than one have mentioned the Founders are grumbling about the effect it’s having on their profits.” Disconnecting from the port, Bei wound the fiberoptic cable around his finger before stowing it under his black hair. Her presence was a caress in his mind.

“And we happen to have a hold full of illegally liberated extraterrestrials.” She kissed his back before hooking her thumb in his waistband.

“There’s no reason to suspect they know.” Bei double-checked the ship’s internal sensors. Nothing indicated the Founders’ probe had penetrated the deepest recesses of his ship. Not that he was willing to bet anyone’s life on it. Crew, escort all guest biologics to their safety stations. This is not a drill.

Acknowledgements flew in cyberspace. Most of the guests were already tucked neatly out of sight. His men worked to remove all trace of them. So long as the Humans they’d picked up didn’t blab about the stowaways, the Founders should find nothing to expose the smuggling ring.

Bei strode out of the cabin, his arm around Nell.

“What do you think the Founders would do if they found out?”

“The Skaperians think they will simply ask for reparations and a return of their property.” Bitterness flooded Bei’s mouth. The Syn-En had been treated better right up until the United Earth Nations ordered him and his cyborg soldiers exterminated.

“Reparations in what? I didn’t think anyone used money anymore.”

In the corridor, crewmen stepped aside to let them pass. Most looked straight ahead, a few glanced at Nell’s flat stomach.

“In planetary resources.” Bei picked up a discordant ripple in the Wireless Array. Smiley face emicons mingled with storm clouds of worry. His crew knew of Nell’s clearance for pregnancy and feared the outcome of this encounter. He sent a salve of determination on the turmoil. Captain Pennig and Chief Medical Officer Los Alamos Cabo added theirs to the mix.

Doc Cabo also sent a red faced emicon. Sorry, Admiral. I thought my files would be safe since you locked the WA.

Locked, but not disabled. After a lifetime of hiding their emotions, the Syn-En still weren’t accustomed to displaying emotions only expressing them in cyberspace.

Nell rolled her eyes and punched the call button for the elevator. “It’s not like they wouldn’t have found out anyway. They are our family.”

“Indeed.” Although, Bei would have liked to keep it to himself for just a bit longer.

The doors opened. A woman looked up. She blinked at the pair of them before stumbling from the elevator. “Excuse me.”

“Not at all.” Nell smiled and sauntered inside.

Bei’s systems flashed a warning. What was his wife up to? Her stream of thought contained more lightning bolts and pitchforks than thoughts. Following her inside the elevator, he leaned against the wall and pulled her flush against him. “What are you thinking?”

An ensign drew up short as the doors started to close.

“Take the next one.” Leaning back, Nell stabbed the close door button. Her blue eyes narrowed. “I’m thinking the next time we have five minutes together, there will be no negotiating, no foreplay, no nothing, but you and me, naked and not talking, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue traced the curved of her lips. She fisted his shirt and climbed up his chest.

The door opened.

He swallowed her groan. Desire steamed around him. He initiated his arctic subroutine.

Her jaw flexed. “Cheater.”

“Sometimes, it’s good to be the Syn-En leader.” He winked before escorting her onto the circular bridge.

“Yeah, well, it sucks to be the piss boy.” Crossing her arms, she grinned.

Referencing one of her favorite movies always calmed her and watching them gave him something to do while she slept in his arms.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Bei smoothed his features. Banding the circular hull, the forward view screens displayed the stars, planets and moons in front of them. Syn-Ens manned the com, navigation and tactical hubs behind him. Each cyborg, hardwired into the ship’s systems through the fiber optic cable embedded in their cerebral interface, controlled their stations with a thought.

Captain Pennig rose from the chair in the center of the room. Gray fringed his round head. Age yellowed patches of his NDA. Despite his years, his movements were fluid thanks to his ninth-generation prostheses. “They’re standing by, Admiral.” Bug-ugly doesn’t like to be kept waiting for a bunch of inferior humans.

The official log recorded only what was spoken. Commentary lived and died in the WA.

Then let’s keep him waiting a minute longer. Clasping his hands behind his back, Bei stood next to the vacant chair. “Which of the species is it?”

“Scraptor.” Pennig resumed his seat and uncoiled the nest of fiber optics at his nape. Blue light pulsed through the line when he jacked into the Combat Information Center.

“The jack-booted thugs of the universe.” Nell activated the medical hub.

Personal comments in the WA only, wife. Bei jerked his head at the recorders, a new requirement of the Erwar Codicils.

Nell stuck out her tongue at him.

He shook his head. Technically, she was duly elected to act as liaison between Humans and their allies. She was supposed to obey his orders. Of course, as his wife, she outranked him. And he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Bad things happened when they were separated. And the Founders were responsible for the latest. He stared at the screen. Bug-ugly doesn’t even begin to describe the Scraptors.

Pennig snorted. It’s a start. Besides, there are young ones in the WA. Other words wouldn’t be appropriate.

No, but they would be accurate. Report, all stations.

Nell clamped her lips together. Anxiety reported from our rescued people. Authorized life-signs show readiness for whatever.

Bei sincerely hoped whatever never happened.

Navigation and com reported all in readiness.

The Syn-En ensign at the tactical hub clenched and unclenched his hands. His Adam’s apple protruded from his scrawny neck. Founders weapons are hot. Ours are on standby.The ensign’s lips twitched. I can still beat them to the draw, Admiral.

Obviously, Bei wasn’t the only one to spend his down time watching old Earth video clips.Excellent job. All personnel await further orders. “Hail the Founders’ ship, Captain.”

The com beeped. Pennig’s hands relaxed on the arm rests. “Hailing ship.”

A red Scraptor materialized on the forward view screens. Onyx rounds glittered at the top of his eyestalks. Mandibles peeled away from razor-sharp teeth. “Admiral Beijing. How kind of you to keep me waiting only five Earth minutes.”

Bei shunted the voice print to the CIC for confirmation, but he didn’t need it. He would never forget the gravely inflection or the arrogance. “Groat.”

“I am flattered you remembered me.” Groat raised one mammoth claw to his bullet-shaped head. When he shuffled backward, the com zoomed out. The Scraptors resembled Earth scorpions. Hardened armor gave their eight limbs a segmented appearance. An oversized tail allowed them to walk on two legs and could inject their victims with poison from the stinger. Claws formed the top set of limbs, then human-like hands, and lastly limbs, ending in sword-sharp points.

“You made an impression, Groat.” All of it bad. Bei cracked his knuckles. “Since I don’t think this encounter is an unfortunate accident, why don’t you state your purpose?”

Groat chuckled. His human hand massaged his claw. “Soldiers like us have no time for social niceties.”

The Syn-En have nothing in common with that scum bucket. Period. End of discussion. Nell activated subspace scans. She overlaid them with information from their previous encounters with the Scraptors. Humanoid. Bipedal. Their internal anatomy was hazy, but their vulnerable points had been protected.

The energy weapon at Groat’s hip was an upgrade. Guess the little encounter on Erwar had an effect after all.

The tactical ensign seized the data. Sending information to engineering now.

Not so much as a muscle twitched while Bei waited.

Groat’s mandibles contracted. “I am invoking Section Ten, Article Sixteen beta of the Erwar Consortium policies and procedures.” His hand dropped to his weapon. “Prepare to be boarded.”

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

HEARTS IN BARBED WIRE by Linda Andrews

HEARTS IN BARBED WIRE by Linda Andrews

Historical Romance (Love's Great War)

Belgium is overrun.

Lieutenant Lucien Duplan is wounded and trapped behind German lines. To reach the Dutch border and freedom, he needs Madeline Thevenet—a woman who eases his pain but is destined to become a nun.

Aiding the man responsible for her parents' death is the last thing Madeline wants to do. But to get her young brother safely to Holland, she will do anything to avoid being caught by the Germans and tried for treason, including putting her heart on the line.

Madeline and Luc must stay one step ahead of the enemy. But the war around them is nothing compared with the battle raging inside. For honor and duty demand one action; and love requires another.

Love’s Great War: Belgium, 1914




Belgium

October, 1914

A shadow stretched across the yard before twilight snuffed it out. The distinct spiked helmet could only belong to a German soldier. Twenty-one year old Madeline Thevenet dropped her valise and raised her hands. Under three layers of clothes, her arms shook and her knees trembled. Please, Almighty God, don’t let him shoot me. Give me a chance to speak to Papa. To explain.

“Pew! Pew!”

She blinked. Pew? Guns didn’t say pew; little boys did. Her knees shook, not a soldier at all. Lamps glowed in her home’s window, cutting a patch of light in the yard and sparking off the liquid in the trough near the water pump.

The blunt tip of a stick emerged from the corner of the house and prodded the dim light. “That’s for King Albert. That’s for Queen Elisabeth.”

Her seven-year old brother, Mathieu, goose-stepped into the glow. The spike-tipped helmet tilted recklessly to the side. He raised the stick and his arms, as he alternated the parts of prisoner and soldier. “Don’t shoot. I’ll go back to Germany.”

A bark of laughter burst past Madeline’s lips. Her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground. Alive. Her brother was alive. Surely that meant her parents were too. Dead grass crunched under her knees and clung to the coarse wool of her skirt.

Her brother dropped the stick to his shoulder. Looking down the crooked ‘barrel’, he pointed the ‘muzzle’ in her direction. “What’s the password?”

“Mathieu.” She opened her arms wide.

“Maddy!” Tossing aside the makeshift carabine, he leapt the two meters separating them.

Her arms wrapped around him. Underneath his thin shirt and overalls, she felt the slide of bone. Her chest constricted. He was so very thin. Had he been sick again? She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled the scents of little boy, sweat and sunshine.

Home.

She was home. As long as her family was together, they could survive this invasion. They could survive anything.

Sniffling, she held him at arm’s length. Despite the dim lighting, she checked him over.

Roses bloomed in his cheeks and vitality crackled in his green eyes. “I’m glad you’re back, Maddy. My soldiers need nursing.”

“They do, do they?” Lifting the helmet by its point, she smoothed his cowlick. “Well, I hope they like needles because wounded soldiers need lots of shots.”

She poked his belly with her finger.

Giggling, he clasped his stomach and twisted away. “I’m not wounded.”

“That’s because you’re getting your injections.” She lunged for him again.

Batting her hands away, he danced toward the door. “I’m serious, Maddy. My soldiers—”

“Mathieu!” Her father trudged around the corner, dragging a vee-shaped wagon half full of wheat.

Madeline stiffened. She had known returning home wouldn’t be easy. But she’d hoped the war would smooth the way. Make her father see the importance of family.

And forgiveness.

Mathieu spun on his bare heel and bounced across the grass. “Papa! Maddy has come home to nurse my soldiers.”

Papa raised one muscular arm and pointed to the door to the house. Disappointment carved deep grooves in his round cheeks. “Inside, Mathieu. Eat your supper.”

“But Papa—”

“At once!”

Mathieu’s thin shoulders bowed. Without another word, he slogged across the yard and disappeared inside.

Inhaling deeply, Madeline rose to her feet and wiped her damp palms on her skirt. Words of apology and contrition stuck to her tongue. “Hello, Papa.”

Time counted in heartbeats.

He shrugged off the harness lashing him to the cart. Sheaves of wheat half-filled the vee-shaped bed. Stooping, he struck a match against the bottom of his shoe. The yellow light deepened the lines mapping his face until it disappeared into his pipe bowl. His eyes narrowed as smoke swirled around his head. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the match in the trough of water near the water pump. “You should not have returned home, Madeline.”

“I could not stay away.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she raised her chin.

Papa glanced to the left then right. “You were safe in Brussels.”

“But I didn’t know if you were safe, Papa.” She peered into the darkness, seeing only the familiar shape of the house, stable, trees and scrubs. Of course, the Boches were everywhere. The cabbageheads listened, oversaw and interfered in everything.

And Belgian traitors were only too eager to help the Germans.

She’d learned that at the hospital. Odd how she’d forgotten it, just because home looked the same.

“Now you care about your Papa?”

Her stomach plummeted to her knees. “I’ve always cared, Papa.”
But she’d wanted to have a life of her own. One in the city, without the constant drudge of farm work. One with friends and trips to the moving pictures, luncheon at a cafe.

“You’ve lied. Taken money meant for your dowry to the church.” Removing his pipe stem from his mouth, Papa jabbed it in her direction. “And you’ve had a nun, your own aunt, lie to cover your sinful lifestyle.”

“It wasn’t sinful.” She fisted her skirt in her shaking hands. Why couldn’t he see she deserved the same opportunity for education her older brother received before he’d died of the fever? “I was training to be a nurse.”

And she’d been the most promising in her class. Madame had said so, but then the foulBoches had barged across the frontier and ruined everything. The deep-throated cannonading rumbled in the distance, sowing Bible-black clouds on the blood-soaked sunset.

“I treated our soldiers, Papa. Our Jas.”

“That is the work of nuns.” Father’s jaw thrust forward. “For an unmarried woman to see men in such conditions is wrong.”

Madeline retreated a step. So many thought secular nursing could only be done by whores since they often saw men unclothed. But the school she’d attended was nearly a decade old, founded on the British tradition where secular nursing had been established during the Crimean war. Her school’s students worked at many respected hospitals and cliniques. “I healed men, women and children, Papa. Surely that is God’s work even done by one not of the cloth.”

“You will return to the convent in the morning. If you must do this God’s work, you will do so in the habit as is proper and not bring dishonor to our family.”

Return? Clasping her shaking hands in front of her, she stepped toward her father. “I cannot return to the convent.”

“Then you are not welcome here.” His voice dropped to a soft whisper.

She winced and studied her wooden shoes. She knew he loved her, knew he wanted the best for her. But her aunt had counseled her to follow her true calling. Her aunt had not foreseen this war. Or the yearning Madeline had for her family. In the poor light, she examined the mud caking her sabots. Bits of it flaked off exposing the yellow wood. “Please, Papa…”

“If you will not do this one thing for your family, then you are as dead to me as your older brother.” His calloused hands fisted. His leathery skin had the folds of a winter apple but his bald head shone like fresh picked fruit. A fringe of white hair crowned his head like fine lace.

“The Germans…”

“Are everywhere.” He cocked one bushy eyebrow. “Their rules apply here as well as Brussels. Return to those like you and do not return again.”

She blinked rapidly. The Boches loved their notices. The avis were posted on every post and spare wall still standing in the villages she’d passed. “The Germans closed our hospitals and sent everyone home. Only German nurses may tend the wounded and our injured soldiers have been sent to camps far away.”

He puffed on his pipe until the tobacco glowed like an angry red eye. “The Belgian Red Cross?”

“Is under the German boot heel.” She spat into the dead grass then shuddered. Herclinique had sent the wounded with the army before the city fell, but other nurses had told such tales of horror as the officers brutally inspected the wounds of the soldiers. “Even the convents and churches are not safe from the Boches. Between the refugees and the displaced sisters and priests, the ones that still stand are full. Please, Papa, let me stay.”

He closed his eyes and swayed on his feet. “We too have been distressed at what they have done to our men and women of the cloth.”

Hope fluttered inside her. She tucked a lock of hair underneath her head scarf. “Papa?”

“If you promise to return to the convent after our Jas chase the Boches back to Germany, you may stay until the enemy leaves.”

Could she make such a promise? Could she keep it? Blinking, she cleared her vision. She had no choice. She couldn’t leave her family now. “I promise.”
He opened his arms.

She fell into them. The sweet, spicy scent of pipe tobacco enveloped her. “Thank you, Papa.”

After kissing her forehead, he released her and picked up her valise. Throwing his free arm over her shoulder, he reeled her against his barrel chest. “We will speak no more of your lies. The village must never know.”

She held him close. Her tongue fused to her palate. She would not tell him about being asked to leave the order, about her unsuitability as a nun.

“We can use a nurse.” He steered her toward the door. “We are helping to provide for the soldiers.”

Madeline’s wooden soles dug into the dirt. She checked over her shoulder, clawed the shawl off her head to see the road. Empty. She could not have heard her father correctly. Her voice dropped. “You have Jas? Here?”

Papa jerked to a stop. The pipe clicked against his teeth. His chest swelled. “Yes. We have two who arrived the night before last. Gaston Cocard brought them before returning to his home. One is English. Calls himself Tommy. Can’t speak a word of French or Flemish. When we asked if he understood Walloon, he thought we spoke of the German sausages. Balloon.”

Freeing her, her father pointed at the star studded sky.

She looked up, searched for a zeppelin. Thankfully, no airship sailed the skies. She shook her head. What was she thinking? The danger was on the ground, hiding in her house. Didn’t her parents know that anyone aiding the Jas would be executed? Hadn’t they heard the stories and seen the proclamations? She swayed on her feet. “You have to make the soldiers go, Papa.”

“They will, once the others arrive.”

Others? More soldiers were coming? Her heart thudded heavily in her breast. The enemy could appear at any moment, could discover the hidden men, and could line up everyone and shoot them dead.

Papa patted her hand. “The two stragglers are wounded.”

A tremor traveled up her spine—symptoms of the war within. She could show her father her skills as a secular nurse, and maybe sway him into releasing her from her promise, or she could protect her family.

The Boches made it so she could no longer do both.

But how could she choose?

Papa drew himself up to his full height. “We will return these men to the King, to Antwerp. They will chase the Boches back to Germany.”

“Antwerp has fallen.” The news tumbled from her numb lips. She’d known when she’d left Brussels, but saying it made it real. Horribly real.

“Who says this?”

“It was in the newspaper this morning.”

“Bah.” Father waved his hand. “The Boches control the papers. The Boches lie.”

“The guns were silent in the west, Papa.” Horribly silent. She’d clapped her hands over her ears once the guns had stopped. There could be only one explanation. According to the papers, the Germans occupied the National Redoubt after leveling many of the outlying forts.

Some said King Albert had been taken prisoner. Others that he had fled to France.

Her heart would not beat if that were so. And she would bite off her lips before telling those tales.

Papa sighed, scratched at his fringe of white hair. “We must restore the soldiers to our king for his return. Then and only then will we have done our duty as Belgians.”

“You must not tell the villagers.” Madeline had seen what happened to those suspected of working against the invaders. From her window in Brussels, she’d seen men, women and children dragged across darkened streets to stand before a table of officers. While the drumhead tribunal proceeded in the cafe, a handful of soldiers marched into the alley. Always, always the Belgian followed them. Then came the volley of bullets and…

“The villagers are helping us.”

Her head began to throb. Every person increased their risk of discovery, of execution. She glanced at the house. Shutters thrown open. Kerosene lamps smoking in the windows. Anyone could see inside, which was why the Boches had ordered it so. Surely she could do something to reduce the risk of discovery. “I shall tend their injuries.”

“I’m very happy to hear that.” A man’s voice died in time for her to hear the distinctive click of a revolver.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

REGISTRATION by Linda Andrews

REGISTRATION by Linda Andrews

Syn-En Series Book Three

Driven from Earth, Admiral Beijing York led an armada of Synthetically-Enhanced human soldiers and its civilian crew to settle an alien world. Their new society is beginning to flourish when Bei is informed that no human, Syn-En or otherwise, can be free until the species registers on a distant planet. Determined to protect humanity, Bei and his wife lead an advanced scouting team to secure their liberty.

And an ancient enemy is waiting to intercept them. The Founding Five won't give up their favorite slaves or medical guinea pigs without a fight.

Now Bei must decide if freedom is worth the price when he may have to sacrifice everyone he loves to win.
 
  
Chapter 1

Fisting his chin, Beijing York drummed on the arm of his command chair. The circular bridge hummed with the power of the fusion nacelles on the lower deck. Sensors sent data in streams down the portholes and through the fiberoptic cable connecting his cerebral interface to the helm. The greenish glow of the magnetic shields seeped through the metal bulkheads–technology protecting weak biology.

A mirror of his own existence, his own body.

Bei’s drumming fingers curled into a fist on the metal armrest. Prostheses for arms and legs, synthetically-enhanced relays for nerves, neodynamic armor for skin, and a cerebral interface implanted in his fragile human brain to integrate everything.

A compression alert flared yellow across his senses and he relaxed his hand.

His human wife, Nell Stafford called him a cyborg——the best of man and machine.

Everyone else called him a Syn-En.

Synthetically-enhanced human. Always the humanity was last, tagged on as an afterthought. He and those like him had to fight to be considered equals.

So many Syn-En had died…

And still the journey wasn’t complete.

He had to travel to the planet Erwar to register like an extinct Earth dog. Only then would the Syn-En under his command, and the rest of humanity, be considered sentient.

Only then would all parts of him have universal rights and freedoms.

Only then…

A soft thump echoed through the crew quarters on the deck below this one and up the stairs into the spaceship’s bridge. The Icarus was small for an interstellar craft. She had two decks and a saucer-shaped bridge connected to her beetle-like body through a narrow stairway. The engines and cargo bay were on the lowest level and the crew quarters and galley on the upper one.

Not enough space when two of his men were at each other’s throats. Sound carried far in a tin can.

“I am not being unreasonable.” Frankfurt Rome’s growl reverberated against the Smart Metal Alloy of the hull, punctuated by the punch of his fist against a bulkhead. “I would have liked to have been consulted before you went ahead and made me a daddy-to-be.”

Bei winced. Obviously his Chief of Security had finished his two-hour sleep cycle and needed another twenty or thirty. Too bad the Skaperians, their new alien allies, hadn’t shared their stasis technology. Even Bei’s tenth generation auditory upgrades couldn’t block the Chief’s temper tantrum. Bei mentally made a note to retrofit the Icarus with sound dampening technology in the crew quarters.

Rome’s wife, Havanna Keyes snorted. “You would have said no.”

Bei shook his head. If his communication’s officer performed her job as badly as she fought this battle, he’d have transferred her twenty-nine days, three hours and six seconds ago.

“Of course I would have said no. I don’t want a weak, squalling, inferior human infant.” Rome vented his anger in a series of short raps. “It’s bad enough we have to defend them.”

Caution lights flared in the galley. With a thought, Bei increased the bulkhead’s sound deafening ability. He didn’t need Rome waking Nell. His wife needed at least eight hours of sleep a night. Something she hadn’t received since boarding, nearly thirty days ago.

Thanks to his two squabbling officers.

He could have stopped it with a simple order, should have. But his wife had forbidden him to interfere. Stripping his best friend of his limbs and hanging him on a hook in the cargo compartment wouldn’t be interfering, would it?

“This baby is ours, something only we could make. Together.” Keyes repeated her argument. “This is different than our assembly-line legs, arms, eyes and hair. Nothing else in the universe can create something like it. Nothing.”

A baby conceived by Syn-Ens.

The first since the cyborg soldiers had been created.

Something hot and fierce flashed inside Bei before his cerebral interface compensated. One day, he and Nell…

“I don’t want it.”

“Then you don’t want me. Consider our term at an end.”

Keyes’ words barely scraped Bei’s audio sensors and his artificial heart nearly seized. She was terminating her and Rome’s marriage? But they’d been together forever. The three of them had been inducted in the Syn-En Forces together. They’d stood together through innumerable technological upgrades as their humanity was literally hacked off them.

Soft footfalls slipped down the hallway. Fabric whispered then there was a thump on the lower deck. Keyes was heading toward the engine room.

“No!” Rome clomped after her. His bigger bulk landed harder and echoed through the ship. “You are my mate. Forever. Nothing could ever come between us. Ever.”

Bei sealed off the hatch between the decks. Maybe if he locked them in, they would work this out between them once and for all. And he would have blessed silence for the next two days to Erwar.

Soft footsteps emerged in the quiet.

Nell. Her walk, her touch and her scent were encoded on his subroutines.

She shuffled up the stairs and onto the bridge, yawning. Fatigue bruised the delicate skin under her blue eyes. Static electricity crackled in her shoulder-length blond hair and across the small camera recording their trip for posterity.

The documentary was Nell’s contribution——as if being a representative of the species wasn’t enough.

“Gene Roddenberry got it wrong.”

Gene who? Bei ran the name through the Icarus’s Combat Information Center. No one under his command went by the name, but he did find an entry under Twentieth Century entertainment. The man was dust by now. Bei relaxed in his chair.

“Space isn’t the final frontier. A man’s head is.” Crouching down, Nell released the lever locking Bei’s chair in front of the workstation and pulled him back. She reset the clamp and sat on his lap. “And even angels fear to tread there.”

Bei wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her in place. “Do you think Rome is wrong?”

Wiggling, she drew her legs up then curled against his chest. “No, Keyes should have told him he was going to be the baby-daddy. But it’s more than that. If that baby came out with mechanical legs and arms, Rome would be a proud papa. It’s the human part that has him scared.”

Not much scared Rome.

Not much scared many Syn-Ens.

But this was emotion, forbidden territory until the Syn-Ens had declared their independence. Now it was unwritten code. A proper response would take ages to perfect and write into their programming.

Wisps of hair tickled Bei’s chin. He smoothed the fly-away strands to the edges then unstrapped the headband holding the camera against her temple. “You think I should intervene? Send him some of those… What did you call them? Chick-flick files to speed up his adaption?”

She snuggled closer, pressed kisses against his jaw. “Chick-Flick movies. And not many men, even in my time, would go to see them.”

Her time. A hundred and twenty-five years in the past. Before the world had been FUBARed. Before her brother had volunteered to become one of the first Syn-En. “So, I should send the files to Keyes?”

“No.”

Her warm breath cascaded down the collar of his black uniform. His body tightened, preparing for the command it liked so much. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give it. Not with the fifth member of their crew unaccounted for.

The sneaky amarook could appear and disappear at will——usually at inconvenient times.

Nell looped her arms around Bei’s shoulders. “Elvis is in the building, or rather in the co-pilot’s chair.”

The creature shimmered into view on the seat next to Bei’s. Although similar to an extinct Earth wolf, Amarooks possessed six limbs–the four traditional paws of a canine and an extra set of slim arms and hands minus the opposable thumbs. Cobalt eyes burned under a mop of black feathers combed back, with one curl escaping in the human Elvis’s trademark do. Sleek black fur covered the rest of his body. “Golly Nell, you weren’t supposed to tell I was here.”

The voice came out of the medallion around Elvis’s thick throat. The translator changed the amarook’s telepathic thoughts into words, so everyone could communicate.

Nell had never needed the technology. The amarook’s leader had forged a mental bond with Bei’s wife, because of their shared experiences at the hands of the Skaperians. Sometimes it was useful.

Elvis’s nostrils flared. “Your mate is in heat, Nell.”

And sometimes the bond was damned annoying. Bei accessed power controls. Maybe he could shunt a small charge to Elvis’s seat. Not to hurt the feather-faced mammal, just get him out of the chair. Then Bei could shut the door and get a little alone time with his wife.

She flushed and pressed her face against Bei’s neck. “Human males don’t go into heat.”

Elvis sniffed the air again. His eyes narrowed and his ears twitched. “You are in heat.”

Bei’s fingers clenched. Nell wanted to conceive on this trip? He double-checked the artificial gravity setting as he seemed to float. His child. His and Nell’s. Unique in the universe. No way would he impregnate his wife on the bridge.

This deserved a bed.

“Elvis.” Nell shuddered on Bei’s lap. “You know, I’m on birth control.”

Birth control. She didn’t want his child. Bei’s oxygen levels depleted until he reset his breathing relays.

Red tinged Elvis’s muzzle. “No baby? But why? There are so few of you humans. And you are an extraordinary human.”

She blew the hair out of her eyes, but she was looking at Bei when she answered. “Doc says there’s still traces of Skaperian DNA in my egg basket. So until the Easter Bunny delivers a new batch of colored eggs, we’re waiting until I get a clean, human-only bill of health.”

Ah, he should have known she had a good reason. Bei kissed his wife’s nose then her cheek. His lips registered the dampness and salt on her skin. Only five months had passed since she’d awoken from her long slumber.

She still had nightmares from the ordeal and slept in his lap instead of in their bed, alone.

Even now, his sensors detected her elevated heartrate and excess adrenalin in her bloodstream.

“You’re safe.” He tucked her head under his chin. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Not ever again.

“Neither will I.” Elvis sunk deep into his chair, wrapped his bushy black tail around his behind and glared at the bank of windows. “We shall raise a strong, fierce daughter to gut all of humanity’s enemies.”

Whoa. Bei had forgotten the creatures were a bloodthirsty lot. “My child——”

Elvis held up his two hands. “Of course, a boy will be trained in the arts if you so wish it.”

And sexist, too. Bei set his hand over Nell’s flat stomach. “My child will be what he or she wants to be.”

“Training should begin as soon as possible.” Elvis shook his head. “It is bad enough that it takes many years for your species to be coordinated enough to weild a weapon without self-injury.”

Holding his wife tight, Bei rose from his seat. Now, his species wasn’t good enough for the feather-headed mammal? “You–”

“This is a moot discussion.” Clinging to his shoulders, Nell stood on tiptoe on the floor. “It’ll be several more months before I’ll be ready to even try for a baby, and Bei and I still have to negotiate terms.”

Negotiate? As one of the first Syn-Ens to have their forced sterility reversed, he was more than ready to go.

Nell set her finger over his lips before he could answer. “We’re going to have to figure out how to balance your role as leader of the new Skaperian-Amarook-Human alliance and change poopy diapers, ‘cuz there’s no way I’m raising the kiddies while you go off living the Star Trek dream.”

“What?” Bei ran her words through his com subroutine and still couldn’t make sense of it.

“We eat the poop of our young.” Elvis rolled out of the chair. His nails clicked against the metal deck and his pink tongue lolled out of his head. “And clean them too.”

Nell wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Elvis arched one feathered eyebrow. “It is most informative regarding the pups’ nutrition and health status.”

An ache stretched across Bei’s forehead. He accessed his memory banks, tried to find a logic pathway in the conversation. And failed. The base of his neck tingled. Well, no wonder. They were fighting half verbally and the rest telepathically.

Releasing Bei, Nell shook her finger at Elvis. “Don’t even think about eating my baby’s poop.”

Elvis’s tail wagged and his furry lips tilted into a smile. “As her Godparent, I will—”

The amarook yelped and clutched his head.

Go Nell! Hit the smart-ass canine where it hurts——his ego.

Nell paled and grabbed Bei’s arm. “There’s something…”

Her eyes rolled back in her head and her legs folded.

Bei scooped her up and activated medical protocols. Elevated heart rate. Rising blood pressure. Brain waves off the charts. He speared the feather-head with a glare. “What did you do?”

Elvis whimpered and collapsed. “Attack. Under.”

The amarook’s communication medallion winked from his chest.

Images and emotions exploded inside Bei’s head. Ugly arthropod-like creatures in black. Beautiful willowy creatures in shades of green.

And fear.

Lots of fear.

Bei’s mouth soured; his stomach clenched. The enemy was nearby. At the speed of a thought, he activated the alarm. Blood red light strobed the small bridge.

On the level below, Rome and Keyes jacked into the Combat Information Center. Their pixelated avatars joined him in cyberspace.

“I’ve got a ship off the starboard bow.” Keyes stuck her hands into the data-stream and pulled out what she needed. “Comparing identity against the Skaperian’s database.”

Rome’s digital blond hair stood on end as he combed through other data packets. “They’re building up power in their fore engines.”

“Shields at max. Energy weapons charging.” Although the connection to the CIC dimmed Bei’s vision, he could still see Elvis collapsed on the deck and Nell in his arms.

Both were stirring.

He had to get them out of here. One hit and the thin hull could rupture, yet he couldn’t leave his tether to the helm. Couldn’t afford to lose a nanosecond of response time. “Let me know if I can fire, Rome.”

Nell shook her head and blinked. “I’ll get to the safe room.”

Bei tightened his grip.

Setting her palm against his skin, she kissed his cheek. “You’ll do better without me distracting you.”

No! The last time they’d been separated, she’d been kidnapped by aliens and he’d been ordered to kill her. He activated his tactical programming and the emotional maelstrom inside him calmed. He set her on her feet. She would be safe on the ship. This wasn’t like last time.

“Don’t do anything suicidal.” Holding onto Elvis’s scruff, she staggered to the door.

“Shit!” Rome’s anger crackled in lightning bolts around his avatar. “It’s a weapon. They’re firing!”

A digital image of the two ships wavered in the Combat Information Center. Light shot from the enemy’s saucer-shaped craft.

At Bei’s command, the Icarus unleashed his first salvo. In the space between heartbeats, he waited to see the impact before making adjustments to insure the kill shot.

The energy weapon hit.

The Icarus bucked beneath his feet.

Then the EMP pulse blasted the hull.

It slammed into his circuits. Red alerts blazed to life. Pathways caught fire. Bei’s body convulsed before his consciousness gave up the fight.

He forced a total shut down, just as fatal errors initiated.

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