The Syn-En Solution (22 page)

Thanks to their upgrades, Syn-Ens can survive potentially fatal wounds.

Trained medical staff must prioritize repairs based on time and resources.

Always save many at the expense of a few,

no matter the personal attachment.

Basic First Aid, Syn-En
Vade Mecum

Chapter Eleven

Nell followed Doc down the winding corridor. Her fingers tightened around the crystal in her hand. The angles of it dug into her flesh before she relaxed her grip. She’d been so sure she’d find answers in the sarcophagus…

But it had been dismantled and the bigger pieces had been scattered across the deck of the cargo bay. The smaller floated in small clouds nearby. When she tried to look for anything regarding her true mission, the crew men and women with the atomic symbol on their blue uniform had blocked her access. Nell rubbed the chill from her arms. Judging from their hostility, she’d been lucky not to be dissected next to her sarcophagus. They’d only given her the obelisk-shaped crystal because Doc had insisted.

As if hearing her thoughts, Doc turned his head to look at her. “I am sorry you did not find any mementos.”

Sadness cut through her as she balanced the three inch obelisk on her shaky fingertips. Nell peered into the clear crystal. Prisms danced around the white hallway but no answers beckoned from the depths. She sighed through her mounting frustration. Playing with the stupid thing wouldn’t help save the Syn-En or solve her personal riddle. She needed answers. “Abracadabra. Alakazam. Show me my parents, family and friends. Something.”

Nothing.

“I find it quite odd that the data chip is blank.” Doc stopped at the end of the hall and pressed the up arrow, one of two buttons embedded in the wall.

“It’s just a crystal.” Nell curled her fingers around it as they waited for the elevator.

Doc slanted her a look, confusion glowed in his black eyes. “Its lattice structure makes it capable of holding trillions of terabytes worth of data. Of course, had it contained anything, the scientists might have held onto it.”

No doubt gloating as they kept it. Instead, all they could do was glower at her as they handed it over. Nell tucked the miniature obelisk into her pants pocket and patted it to make sure it stayed. “Did something happen while I slept? The second time, not the long sleep that brought me here.”

Doc riveted his attention to the wall in front of them. “We are about to be joined by more Syn-En.”

“You don’t like your relatives?” If they had relatives like Aunt Ola who smelled of rotten eggs and made nasty comments about everything and everyone in her midst, she could understand but Nell doubted that was the reason. The Syn-En were a tight bunch, a clan who depended on each other for survival and more. Obviously more than her telomeres had changed while she’d been out. The atmosphere had become grim and the attention she’d received had shimmered with violence.

“The circumstances leave much to be desired.” Doc shrugged.

Before Nell could ask for further explanation, the elevator doors opened.

Chatting in low tones, two crewmen in dark blue uniforms exited the square lift, smiling at Doctor Cabo. Their grins and easy banter wilted when they spied her. Mouths set in straight lines, the duo pushed into the hall. The one closest to her knocked her shoulder as he passed.

“Son of a…” Pain radiated from her socket across Nell’s chest. The impact of the man’s metal torso and arm spun her about until she slammed into the wall. Her head bounced off the panels, blazing fire down her neck and spine. Nell blinked back her tears and fought for a breath. The butthead had done it on purpose. “Ow!”

“Watch where you’re going, citizen,” the hulking soldier growled.

Nell bit back her rebuttal. When armored bodies met flesh and bone, armor won. She’d do well to stay out of their way or buy some metal repellant.

“Do that again, Denver, and I’ll have your implants.” Doc Cabo shepherded her into the elevator and stabbed the up button with his index finger.

“Skin addict,” Denver shot back.

Cradling her tingling arm, Nell leaned against the elevator wall. The cool metal surface dulled the pain. “I take it that was related to those circumstances you mentioned?”

Doc flashed his palm at her. The green beam scanned down her body as he crowded her into the corner. “We just received word that Earth has issued death warrants for all Syn-En. Some are upset.”

“Death warrants? But why? And why are they blaming me?” She came here to help, dang it. She really needed a little guidance here. Maybe then she’d be accepted.

Doc set his hand on her shoulder and Nell flinched. Bile burned her throat when he straightened her arm and moved the joint back and forth in its socket.

“Nothing broken, just bruised.” Doc tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered a second too long and Nell eased back. Doc allowed his hands to drop to his side. “The admiral will terminate Denver for his treatment of you.”

Hissing through the pain, Nell gingerly probed the throbbing area. “You’re kidding, right?”

Doc’s narrow eyes betrayed his annoyance. “Would you like me to scan again?”

Nell shook her head. Obviously, there was more to the story than signing the Syn-En’s death warrant for the Doc to get offended so easily. “Not about your diagnosis. I meant you don’t think Beijing would really kill that guy for running into me, do you?”

Doc’s features relaxed. “I know he would.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I can hardly feel it.” Despite what the Syn-En might think, Nell refused to have any blood on her hands. Straightening her arm, she closed her eyes against the static filling her head.

“I could give you something for the pain.” Doubt colored the deep timber of his voice.

“I think I’ve had enough meds to last a lifetime.” Staring at him, Nell shook her head and adjusted her weight when the elevator lurched to a stop. She hoped they reached the medical bay soon. If they encountered any more irate crewmen prone to accidentally bumping into her, the bruises would have her looking like a Holstein cow.

The elevator doors opened onto an enormous lobby. The wounded and injured sat or lay in neat rows on the floor. The pungent scent of disinfectant, burnt skin and blood caused her stomach to buck.

Nell wrinkled her nose. Hospitals smelled the same even in space.

“If you change your mind, just let me know.” Doc set his hand on the small of her back and ushered Nell into the room.

“Before I begin my candy striper duties, do you think I could search your computers for information on my family?” She surveyed the large room. Her gaze faltered on a kneeling man to her right.

Sharp pointy instruments replaced the top half of his fingers. The skin-like armor of his legs had splayed open like butterfly wings, leaving metal tubular bones and spaghetti wiring exposed.

Doc followed her line of sight, then washed the prostrate man with a green beam before turning his attention to Nell. “I doubt the CIC will be much help. We have no record of anything before 2025.”

Nell blinked. Her attention bounced behind Doc. Light glinted off the scalpel projecting from the medical man’s index finger before it danced in and out of the creases and openings in his patient’s body. Surprise and revulsion trickled through her. It took a moment to register that no blood sprayed their navy uniforms. “Are they operating on the floor?”

Doc cupped her elbow in his warm grasp and dragged her away from the sight. “Because many Syn-En upgrades don’t require biologic support to function, we don’t need to worry about inflaming the immune system.”

As if to punctuate his point, a slim woman gripped the thigh of the person lying in front of her and twisted. The leg snapped off with a sucking noise that reminded Nell of breaking the vacuum seal on a jar of pickles.

The amputee laughed at something the woman said and sat up.

Nell looked away from the legless woman. “What about privacy?”

Doc’s brown eyes narrowed for a moment. “That is not something Syn-Ens are accustomed to.”

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Nell glanced to her left. Rows of people sat motionless on the floor. Their odd stillness chilled her. Were they waiting for their turn to be operated on or was something else wrong with them? “Is that recovery?”

“No, their armor locked them in place to prevent further damage to their systems.” Doc Cabo guided her along a clear corridor between the clumps of people on the floor. “We’ll get to them eventually.”

In front of the statue-like Syn-Ens, an ebony skinned man sat cross-legged next to a pile of limbs. He opened the compartments of each, stuck his fingers inside then either tossed the appendage to his right or left.

While the pile on his right remained undisturbed, a woman quickly gathered the ones on the left, attached them to a hook and hung them on a circular clothes rack. Amputees hobbled over to the racks, skimmed the dangling legs and arms, before removing one and measuring it against their intact limb. If the selection fit, they snapped it in place and left. If not, they spun the rack and continued their search.

Nell shuddered. They searched the severed parts like she once shopped for clothes. The thought both repulsed and fascinated her.

“Cabo.” A woman strode toward Nell and the doctor at her side. Crimson stained the newcomer’s hands and flecked the white apron draped down the front of her body. While she talked to Doc, her green eyes locked onto Nell. “Orleans has a bleeder in room four and could use your expertise. The civie’s legs were crushed under a bulkhead. He won’t consent to amputation; rather risk his life than endure another tech penalty.”

Dragging Nell by the arm, Doc rushed down a corridor that followed a curving wall. “Such things don’t matter anymore.”

“Tell that to the civie,” the other woman answered.

Nell’s boot heels clicked against the metal floor as she hurried to keep up. Lungs heaving, she jerked free of Doc’s grip and leaned against the wall to catch her breath.

“I will.” Without a backward glance, Doc strode away. The woman quickly followed.

Nell gingerly probed her sore shoulder and muttered under her breath. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Guilt lashed her as soon as she spoke the words. Someone’s life hung in the balance and she sounded like a petulant three-year-old. She came here to help and she would. Nell glanced at the closed doors lining the white hallway. “Eeney, meeny, miney, moe.”

After glancing left then right, Nell crept to the fourth door. It opened when she neared, giving her a view of the cramped interior. Cloth-draped gurneys filled the rectangular shaped room. Nell shuddered at the human shaped silhouettes underneath. Other shrouded bodies stuffed four chef’s racks shoved against the far wall. Good Lord, it was a morgue. Just as she stepped back toward the hall, a clear football helmet-shaped form on the other side of the room caught her eye.

The sight stirred one of her new memories and data rushed in, for once unaccompanied by the voice of her mother/conscience.

“An imaging machine.” Shaking off her revulsion, Nell tiptoed into the room. The doors whisked shut behind her, cloaking the voices from the other rooms. Ears straining, she struggled to hear something, anything besides her breath rattling around inside her head.

From the corner of her eye, Nell detected movement. She focused on the body lying on the gurney near her right hip. Did that sheet just rise and fall? Sweat moistened her palms and her heart picked up tempo. Could they have shoved a person in a morgue that wasn’t quite dead? On instinct, she reached for the body.

Every zombie movie she’d ever watched replayed at hyper speed through Nell’s head. She curled her fingers against her palm and folded her arms over her chest as icy fear trickled down her spine. She stopped herself from turning around and running out of the room. “Zombies don’t exist.”

Her words trembled in the room.

A network of pin lights embedded in the ceiling buzzed, flickered then sizzled out. Nell’s tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. While the remaining bank of illumination spotlighted the helmet form of the imager, her feet seemed welded to the floor.

Was that a sign to leave or stay?

Gritting her teeth, Nell cast a look over her shoulder at the door then at the imager. Half way there. She slid her right foot forward. The imager was the best chance at finding those space parasites or whatever lived inside her head.

A low groan rumbled through the stillness.

Gaze bouncing wildly, Nell jumped and spun about, looking for the source. Her hip bumped into a gurney and something grazed her thigh.

She gargled a scream, backpedaled and batted at whatever touched her. Holding her breath, she glanced down.

A small, feminine hand dangled next to the gurney. Deep gouges scored the slim wrist and forearm, exposing the empty compartments and the metal rods that provided strength and support.

Swallowing the lump of terror lodged in her throat, Nell reached for the arm. A person with DTs would have shaken less. Steeling her resolve, Nell pinched the wrist and tossed it back onto the gurney. Her brain registered the warm, pliant skin seconds before the arm crashed to a stop next to the body.

Nell winced at the loud noise. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a soft voice whispered back.

Stumbling backward, Nell tripped over her feet. Corpses don’t talk. Corpses can’t talk. She landed on her rump with a teeth-rattling thud, her mantra playing inside her skull. Only a corpse who isn’t a corpse could talk. The twisted logic made perfect sense to her hysteria. Nell shoved her fingers in her mouth to suffocate the building scream and latched onto the glimmer of hope.

Not a corpse?

Spittle dripped down her chin before Nell removed her fingers and dried her skin on the sleeve of her green uniform. No brain scan was worth facing the talking undead.

“Have you damaged yourself?” the soft voice asked.

Quietly, Nell rolled onto her hands and knees. This had to be a dream. Nothing but a dream. Heck, maybe she hallucinated the whole spaceship-Syn-En thing. Maybe not getting the job had caused her to flip out and even now her body was safely stored inside a padded cell while her mind was locked inside her head. Something sharp pulled her scalp.