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

track them.”
    “Thank you.” The words soured Groat’s mandibles more than fermented froce. But he would take the funds to repair his ship. And he would make certain all the Scraptors knew it had been him who eased the credit rationing.
    “Lay in a course to Surlat, helmsman.”
    “Surlat?” A chill penetrated Groat’s full body armor. The stinger on his tail flooded with toxins.
    “Yes.” Mopus rested his pointy chin on the tips of his long fingers. “We need to observe the Humans in action.”
    The helmsman’s armor glowed brightly. “But the planet hasn’t been purified. The Surlat strain…”
    Groat couldn’t rebuke the new recruit even if he wanted. His father and grandfather had perished from the virus. So had nearly ninety percent of the Scraptor race. Only a quarter of the other Founding Five races had died.
    Mopus dismissed their concerns with a wave of a lanky hand. “The Founders have given you the latest antiviral vaccine and embedded more in your armor. You’re protected.”
    Groat’s mandibles remained sealed shut.
    “The Humans will die, and then we can salvage their technology.” Mopus raised one green eyebrow. “Who knows, we might be able to save one or two of these Syn-En subspecies for you to test your new armor.”
    There was that. Groat had heard the grumbling in the common areas. The Syn-En guerrilla attack had created doubts in Scraptor superiority. “Lay in a course for Surlat. Point three of maximum. I don’t want to arrive before the Nell Stafford. ”
    He didn’t want to arrive at all. Not when the Surlat strain still thrived.
    “What other devices did you plant?” Mopus scratched his smooth chin.
    Not as much as Groat would have liked. Arriving on a ship surrounded by camouflaged hostiles hadn’t urged him to ask for a tour. “I spread trackers on their docking bay floor. Every member of their landing party should pick them up as they walk to their shuttles.”
    Turning a knob on his chair, he switched feed from the outside sensors to his shuttle’s recorders. The image showed two beetle-shaped Human shuttles huddled on the far side of a cavernous docking bay.
    “Those are their ships? Grotesque.” Mopus shuddered. “Do your trackers include visual?”
    “Some do. Most are audio and locational beacons.” Groat lifted his hand to massage his armor but stopped short. He would not show weakness before another Founder. “As you know, the full sensor trackers cost more, so they must be conserved.”
    And he had used an entire year’s supply. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. He just hoped the Founders realized that wars couldn’t be won on tight budgets.
    “Good.” Mopus folded his arms and tucked his hands up his sleeves. “I wish to watch when the Humans realize their fancy gadgets do not work on Surlat.” He cut his attention to Groat. “Then you will be thankful that the Founders make certain your ships have rudimentary technology, not the easily disabled advanced stuff.”
    Mopus pushed the button near the door. A buzzer echoed deep in the bowels of the dreadnaught. Metal ground as the door began to lift.
    Groat’s swords raised in a defensive position. His hands clenched. The Founders fear of technology was based on a myth, nothing more. The Erwar were more creatures of technology than actual biochemistry. Why would they unleash some invisible force that could destroy their world? He’d never bought into the superstition. Neither had his fellow Scraptors.
    The Founders didn’t stint on technology when they created their comforts.
    Just when the Scraptors needed it to enforce their will.
    Then budgets and their streams of red and black ink came into the picture.
    And the Scraptors always lost.
    They wouldn’t lose if the Humans and their technology escaped Surlat unscathed.
    Groat wasn’t certain whether he hoped they did or didn’t.
    Yes, he did. He wanted Humans stuffed back into their rightful place—serving their betters, the Founders. His