Syn-En: Plague World: The Founders War Begins by Linda Andrews Read Free Book Online Page B

only thing that made it bearable.
    Fabric whispered. Light footsteps followed. Mopus. “You should demote that Scraptor, Groat. It took entirely too long to open a simple door. Such laziness. I thought you were preparing for war, not coddling budgetary waste.”
    “My men are ready for war. The equipment is lacking.” Groat focused his eyestalks on the forward porthole. The starlight appeared to be distorting around the Nell Stafford. No doubt, the ship’s external sensors were malfunctioning. The Human vermin would need to travel for another Earth hour before reaching the mouth of the wormhole. “Magnify the image of the enemy craft.”
    “Magnifying the image of the enemy craft, Commander.” The helmsman twisted knobs and pushed levers. The porthole blanked.
    No image reappeared.
    Mopus smoothed his green hair behind his pointy ears. A gold embroidered cuff slipped over his green wrists. More gold twined with the sapphire robe that brushed the dented deck. “Your men are hardly ready for war. He can’t even manage a simple task.”
    “It is not my men; it is the equipment. Maybe instead of sending political liaisons to each ship, the Founders could send repair equipment. It would be more useful.” Crossing the six steps to the helm, Groat banged his fist on the side of the boxy console.
    Static blitzed the screen. It cleared a second later.
    “Stop complaining.” Mopus flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “We are issuing new armor, aren’t we?”
    “And deducting the cost from the Scraptors’ pay.” Groat stepped closer to the forward screen. The stars around the saucer-shaped ship morphed into a halo. Others looked like flagean smears on a planet-bound windscreen.
    Mopus milked his long fingers in front of his custom made robes. “What is wrong with your viewer?”
    Groat’s insides condensed into a hard point. “I don’t think it’s my viewer.”
    One moment the Human ship glowed as bright as a star. The next, it had vanished.
    Where in the blackest holes of the universe had the vermin acquired such technology?
    The air fogged with Mopus’s malodorous pheromones. The politician must be worried to emit such a stink. The Scraptors were immune to such chemical control. “Where did it go?”
    Returning to his command chair, Groat shoved a lever on the arm, opening the air vents to full. His claws clacked in agitation. His tail swished. “Control your stink, Mopus, or I’ll ban you from my bridge.”
    Mopus’s green skin deepened to a shade of infected snot. His coin-slot nostrils flared. “Where did the Human vessel go?”
    “To Surlat.” Groat stilled his appendages. It wouldn’t do to give away the gaps in his intel. This war would need a Fleet Commander. He would be it. Two of his competition had already succumbed to unfortunate air scrubber malfunctions.
    “Do you know this, or are you guessing?” Mopus’s tilted eyes narrowed to slits.
    “They will rescue the vermin on the planet. I have studied the Humans’ behavior. I know how they act.” Groat clasped his pinschers behind his back.
    “Scraptors did not evolve meaningful intelligence.”
    Groat’s claws tightened, one nearly snapping the other in two. He forced them open. “Then you will be pleased to know, that on a pass under the Nell Stafford, we placed a homing beacon on her hull.”
    The process had been so smooth, he doubted the Humans had realized it. He tugged out a keyboard. The keys clicked as he tapped in the signal frequency.
    Four red dots flared on the stellar map.
    His armor itched. How could the ship be in four places at once? It just wasn’t possible. Unless… Unless the beacon had shattered, and the remnants reported their positions. The screen fuzzed with static then cleared. The dots shifted on the star chart.
    Mopus peered over the helmsman’s shoulder and frowned. “I will talk to the Founders’ board and see if we can jar loose some funds for repairs. We can’t destroy our enemy unless we can